Work Out Get Away

I am going to be sick. That is inevitable. My stomach churns and my throat tastes sour. My head's spinning and dancing I am going to be sick. I close my eyes and that doesn't help. I open my eyes and that just makes it worse. I keep them closed. There is nothing for me out there. I have my little metal coffin of nausea and that's all I need. I am going to be sick, and nothing can change that fact. The air's going full tilt and it's nice, but it's not enough.

I am going to be sick and that means I can't take in any of the natural splendor around me. Greenery and lush, towering trees. I assume there are birds singing, a herd of deer grazing, a friendly pack of chipmunks waiting at our destination to serve as butlers. I don't know. My head hurts and I am going to vomit.

"We're almost there, baby," Louise says, "Just hang on."

I nod weakly and let my head rest against the seat. I hate driving. I hate cars. I hate every form of motion that isn't from manpower. I miss walking places. I miss running places. I exhale slowly like that will solve every problem I have. It won't, but it's all I can do.

Louise is not a good driver. Any driver that makes me feel this way cannot be good. Granted, she is still better than me, if only because she actually has a car. I like the bus. I like the train. I like walking. None of those things have such a bastard way of making me feel.

I want to watch the trees wave in the wind. I want to watch the world go by. I am tired of steel and glass and concrete. Such a shame. I like trees. In theory. I haven't seen that many of them in a good long while. I wanted this moment to be special and full of wonder. Instead, I am going to be sick. Louise jerks the wheel over a sharp turn and the little phone voice says that was the right move. We have about fifteen minutes to go. Thank God. I can probably hold on for fifteen minutes. I hope.

I burp and it tastes foul. It's going to be close. I count the seconds and there are too many of them. I focus on the cold wind from the air conditioning and that does help. Not a lot, but it does. She jerks the wheel again. That doesn't.

We come to a stop and that's the best thing that could ever happen ever. The wind has to shut off and that's bad, but I get to open the door and sprawl into the grass. There's a rock under my shoulder. That's still better. The air is cool. The sun hides behind the clouds. The wind rustles the leaves and a door creaks open. My eyes are closed, and I don't want to know about anything. Deep breaths and cool breezes and stillness.

Two things happen to me. I get a cool washcloth across my forehead. I get a poking foot in my ribs. I like the first. I don't like the second.

"Are you dead?" asks Saoirse.

"Yes," I moan, "Please let me rest in peace."

"I guess we can do that. Leave you for the mosquitoes. I bet they would be really happy with you."

I would be a good treat for the mosquitoes. And the flies. And whatever else wants to eat me while I lie here in the grass. I get another kick in the stomach and that does not help anything. I am dead. This won't revive me.

"Do you want some crackers?" asks Troy, "I have some crackers."

I shake my head and that seems to help. It's fading. I am still. I am whole. I am perfectly fine.

"Don't coddle her," Louise says, "She's a drama queen. She's playing it up for the sympathy points."

"Figured," says Saoirse, "I'm not picking her up."

Traitor. She is a traitor. I deserve to be picked up and carried like a princess. So does Louise and Saoirse and Troy. We just can't all do it at the same time, so we need to take turns. And it's my turn right now.

No one comes to save me but I am getting better. The washcloth helps and I slowly crawl to standing. Louise looks huffy and annoyed. Saoirse's more or less the same. Troy's concerned and that makes him my favorite right now.

We're at the cabin. Saoirse's cabin. Not forever, but for the long weekend. She doesn't have enough money to own it forever, but a weekend would be fine. And she said we could all come because she's nice like that. And I think spending a weekend alone on a cabin by the lake is an invitation for a slasher to come in and do some slashing. I am very slash resistant.

It is a nice place, if a bit run down. Troy and Saoirse got to share a ride up and they both look comfy. I can see the water from here, glass smooth. It reflects the forest and the clouds better than a mirror. The sickness is gone, and I am growing excited. I get to be excited to do nothing which is odd. I am doing nothing right now and I get to do more of it later. That's great. So much nothing. There's a grill and hammock and what looks like a thing for ladder golf. I could go for some ladder golf. Saoirse and Louise pair off for the grand tour.

The car beeps and that means I have to get the bags. Louise drove and I am simply better at getting bags. Troy helps because he is my new favorite. It's going to be weird for a bit, since some of my friends are meeting for the first time, but that's to be expected. I'm worried, but not too worried. Troy grins as he pulls the first of our prizes from the trunk.

"Isn't this a bit much," he asks.

"You drink beer on a lake," I say, "That's just what you do. And I got 2 of them because there's four of us."

"2 36 packs of beer. That's a lot of beer. 18 beers per person. Over like two nights. I don't think any of us are capable of that."

He does the math for me, and it appears that he is correct. That is a lot of beer over two nights. And Saoirse doesn't really drink. Troy and Louise can go knee deep, but not that often. I don't remember what happens when I drink, so I assume I'm amazing at it and nothing bad ever happens. I usually wake up next to a naked lady or two. Granted, recently it's just been Louise and the occasional Saoirse and Troy the one time. And now they're all here, so it can all happen at once and everything will be great. I'm a genius. None of this was my idea, but I am still a genius for accepting Saoirse's invite.

---

"Why are you putting baked beans on a hot dog?" Saoirse asks.

"What? It's a thing," Troy scoffs, "It's a thing where I'm from. You think everything from where you're from is cool and normal? Cause it's not."

She still looks at Troy's wonderful culinary innovation as if it were radioactive. I just eat my dog and go on with my life. Used to be a place that would put coleslaw and hot sauce on it near Papa Jams. Now that I think about it, it might have been Papa Jam's before they switched owners. I don't know. My food is good. Troy, like all worthwhile men, has culinary expertise in exactly two areas, grilling and breakfast. He has proven one and boasted of the other. He has promised pancakes tomorrow morning if he can walk.

Louise has her food, and she keeps tapping my foot. I tap back. She taps me again. Wrong foot, but then I get response as well. Wonderful. It's all wonderful. The insects drone in perfect harmony. Wavering and dancing and humming some beautiful testament to the coming night.

The cabin has space. A lot of space. Like a house's worth of space. I thought it would be one of those things where the closets technically count as separate bedrooms. But no, I am wrong. It has air conditioning. Weak air conditioning, but air conditioning, nonetheless. There's a TV too. On second thought, I don't even think it's a cabin at this point. If anything, it's more like a house. A lake house rented for the weekend. It has a hammock and a small dock for jumping off of. We'll do that tomorrow. I like this place. It agrees with me. It's a lot quieter in some ways and a lot louder than my place with Louise.

Louise looks to her plate and then to Troy's. It takes a moment for her to decide, but she mimics his plating and finds it to her tastes. Considering that my better half now has given the ok, I try it as well. Not really sure what I was expecting, but it works. Don't think I would do it again, but I'm glad I have the experience. Saoirse looks to all of us and makes no attempts to veil her hate. The insects drone on and on outside the screen porch. It's nice. There's a cold breeze coming off the lake and it excuses my hoody. Troy's rocking bare arms and that's nice. I can tell he's cold though. There's the prickling of goose pimples on his arms as they pick up his plate. Like a gentleman, he takes Saoirse's as well. Like a scoundrel, he refuses to take mine for whatever reason. I am still eating, but I would have appreciated the gesture. He appreciates the firm open palm slap on the behind I give him though.

"Are we starting that now," Saoirse asks, "kind of surprised it's taken you this long to start getting in the mood."

"The car ride kind of knocked me out of commission," I shrug, "And I didn't want to throw you and Troy in it together too fast. Your first time together and all. It deserves to be special."

"If you vetted him, then he's bound to be interesting at least. And if he turns out to be a complete and utter jackass, then you beat him up. I heard what happened at the club. I think you could take him."

"In my defense," he cries out from the other room, "I could at least break her hand as she punches me in the face."

"You would bruise my knuckles at best."

"Don't underestimate my thick skull. Anyone want to start on the beers?"

No one does, to my disappointment. I got those for everyone, and no one appreciates my consideration. They are also still warm. The fridge can only do so much so fast. Shame, but that's also a job for tomorrow. We could make a fun pyramid. Or a fort.

I'm thinking too many things. There are too many people here that I have seen naked. There are too many things I want to do to them all. So many contortions and positions and combinations, I cannot name them all. We have the cabin to ourselves, a safe haven from the prying judgmental eyes of the world. We can do whatever we want right here, right now. We wasted an afternoon lounging by a beautiful lake and a bit of an evening making wieners and beans. On second thought, I don't think the second half was all that much of a waste. It was good.

Louise's leg brushes up against mine, up and down, up and down. Then another joins and I think it's Saoirse's. I'm getting overstimulated and I love it. It's amazing. There's so much to do and feel and touch and poke.

"Am I going to be the only dishes slave," Troy asks, "Or is someone going to help?"

Louise shakes her head and Saoirse has the excuse of paying for the damn place. I guess it's me. I need some space. I want some space. I want to have the moment where we start to be complete. No distractions, no excuses, everything all perfectly aligned with everyone right where I need them to be.

I pull away and they both complain silently. Something is clearly wrong when I am the voice of reason for the moment, but I have no plan on how to fix it. They hate to see me go but love to watch me leave.

And I love to see Troy. Feels like ages since our first little tryst and I haven't seen him since. Busy with work, both of us. He had books to balance, and I had bookshelves to balance. He could come work with me and then we'd both get nice and hot and sweaty. Have fun in our moving truck in between stops and then come home to a naked Louise and a naked Saoirse and a cold beer and game on and burgers and I am turning into my father. Odd. I always thought I would turn into my mother. I guess I have time to switch back if I want, but I don't know. I'll try this for a bit. I sneak up on Troy and snake my hands around his stomach. I kiss his neck and rub all of me against him. He freezes in place like a poor little deer.

"You are very bad at doing dishes," he says.

"I am. That's why Louise does them at our place. I did them bad once on purpose, so I never have to do them again."

I rub against him a bit more and he feels all sorts of shapes against him. He is a bit nervous when my hips meet. It is nerve wracking to feel me anywhere, really. I push my breasts into his back and that makes him a bit less nervous. Or more nervous, but in a good way. He moves his hips back and that is a very dangerous game he is playing.

"Help me," he says, "And then we can play."

"But I want to play now," I purr. I move my chin into his shoulders and start kissing his neck. I glance down and he wants to play too. Loose shorts can only hide so much. His hair's getting nice and long and shaggy. I like it. I like the way it feels against my cheek. I like the way it feels when I move my hands through it. I don't like the way it gets in my mouth, but nothing is perfect.

To my surprise, he has gotten stronger. And faster. He is in front of me, facing me and he is pressing his lips into mine. No tongue. No fancy maneuvers. Just pressure and heat and I push back and make it ferocious. He is strong enough to escape this time.

"Dishes first," he says.

I am going to hit something. Not him. He does not deserve it. I did not get my way and that is a great injustice that demands beautiful retribution. I get nothing of the sort, other than a slow halfcocked urge on my crotch. I huff and pout and take up my task of wiping everything dry before setting them in a very fetching drying rack. The place doesn't have a dishwasher. I bump his hips with mine. He bumps back. We do the work. I get excited. He gets excited. I watch him get excited and he watches me get excited.

"Never thought I would like that," he whispers to me. I him and fill with warm smug glow. I am so much to like.

"Is that such a bad thing?" I say.

"Surprising. That's all. Not exactly what I thought I was going to get, and I got a lot more than I wanted. I came out here with all of you, right? I know what I am throwing myself into."

"Not really. You had a soft ball to start."

"Then I at least know I am throwing myself into something. Hurry up. Last one and I don't want to do anymore dishes."

I can break this dish and never have to wash it again, but then I would be in trouble. No trouble. No bad things. I put it up and pull him close. I drag him back to the rest of my growing gaggle. I need to find some name for the collective at some point. Gaggle works for now. We're wasting time.

"Vegas sucked," Saoirse sighs, "It was hot. Everything was overpriced. Saw the saddest thing where a school bus pulled up outside a casino and all the kids got off to wait for their parents at the slots. I did have a steak at the top of a casino. That was fun."

"Was the steak good?" Louise asks.

"Oh hell no. But it was a good view."

"What's this?" Troy asks, "You went to Vegas?"

"Yeah, that card thing I told you about on the way over. Anytime you walk out of there with more money than you walked in with is a good time, but between those two moments, a lot of bad things can happen."

I shrug. I've never been. I have no plans to have been. I like winters and snows and rains and trees. From what I know, the desert has none of things. Cactuses would be cool to see. Louise is also cool to see. She has her tank top riding up her stomach and sees no reasons to fix it. I have my spot next to her and Saoirse on the couch. Troy takes a moment and chooses poorly. He's so far away. He needs to be close.

I look to him, and he shrugs. He can't move now, otherwise that's kind of awkward. We three have our slowly entangling limbs and bodies. Louise takes over most of my stomach. She presses into my hardness and is not surprised. It's almost mundane by now. I am hard and ready as I always am, always will be there will be a time to deal with it.

"Get over here," Saoirse sighs, "No point in playing coy at this point."

"Cut him slack," Louise says, "He can be timid. Let him build his momentum up first."

"I'm not that timid," he mumbles timidly. He shuffles over though and that is nice. We all laze and sprawl over a too small couch. Louise and I work to get rid of some of the cushions. Despite on fondness for proximity, there is still a need for more space. The insects keep their song in an endless drone. A lone bird calls out. I think it's an owl. I hope it's an owl.

There's a foot digging into my crotch, softly working the flesh back and forth. I slip over it and close my eyes. My hands find a breast and roll it softly. My other hands find a thigh and it's a bit hairy, so that's Troy's. The breast is big and soft and heavy, so that's Saoirse's. There's a Louise over the rest of me.

We are all one endless mass of something simple. Sensation and warmth, skin on skin, muscle and muscle colliding and mixing. I almost don't even want to go any farther. I just want his part forever and ever. No such thing as week to end. No such thing as an on-call shift. I don't have trucks to drive or couches to move. Louise will be there because there are no humans to resource. Saoirse has no cards to deal or work to do. I don't actually know what she does, now that I think about it. And Troy will have no finances to finance. All of us together. The foot presses a bit harder and that moment of crystalized times shatters into the next. I want more. I need more. I will take more and more will be given from them. I grip a bit harder on everything I have and that spirals us all up. Saoirse starts griding against me. Troy spreads out and looks for his own harvest to reap.

Louise is the one who finally breaks the veil of cloth. She sheds her shirt and tosses it somewhere. We all watch her. She shines under the spotlight. It is all for her. Dark skin and curled hair in thick dreads. It takes in the light and swallows us whole. We fall into her in lavish devotion. I kiss her back and feel her strength shift and move and clench. My hands move to her bra, and I am the one to receive that wonderful honor. I fumble a bit, but it gets off and I toss it over to the soon to be pile of clothes. I am not the first one to get the other prize. Troy does, bringing his lips to her nipples. She hisses and sighs and moves her hips to coax me further. It's not needed but appreciated at least.

Troy's next and that's wonderful. Saoirse still has her breasts hidden and she is more concerned with herself. She massages and strokes and touches and tickles. She's practiced and clean, very eager to touch and roll and play with herself. Her hands are under her hem. I can feel the couch carry the motions she gives. They are good. Troy works Louise more with me as a base. I am the nexus of sensation. I am the core of the tangled knot. We can only be cut when it comes time to untangle.

Louise is fully naked, and everything is beautiful. Everything is for all of us. I am hard and pulsing under her rhythm. I am eager and over the edge. I can't find out how to undo my zipper. There are too many things in the way, too many bodies and limbs. I don't care. One of my hands finds a button. Another finds the zipper. I don't think it's mine.

My open secret snakes into its own freedom, parting elastic and ripping cotton. It is wonderful. The combined heat of our bodies serves to heighten my beautiful excitement.

"I missed that thing," Saoirse sighs, "It feels like years since I saw it. You've ruined me. It's the only one that can satisfy me anymore."

Troy chuckles through Louise and I feel it rumble through me. Good. He deserves some bit of confidence. He has three women to take care of. That is a herculean task, even with my help, and the start of it all is a good dash of confidence. I feel him rock and something else hits me. It's him. I don't think Saoirse can see him from here and I think we all deserve some clarity when that moment comes around. Louise twitches and I feel her throat clamp in remembrance. I don't think she's going to go for that on either of us today. I don't blame her. She has me to contend with.

I feel her arousal start to drip down my shaft. Troy remains an absolute gentleman in helping us line up. All that trepidation slowly drips away with more and more heat poured into him. He is here with us and that is more than enough for anyone.