Work Out Get Away

I huff and buck, letting her know that I can punish her in the best way possible later. She takes it in stride. Unfazed, completely. She has a lakeside view and a horizon to contemplate. Troy calls from inside. Food is ready and as much as I want the moment of nothing to last. I want to see if Troy has more talents hidden in him. Saoirse hops off and straightens everything out. I get a glimpse of her naked chest.

"Like, their first album was definitely worse than the mixtape," Louise says, "But that's a problem with production. They switched for their second."

"Should I still listen to the first then?" Troy asks. He, like a complete jackass, gets a good long bit of hangtime on the pancake flip. He lands it, like an even worse jackass. I hate that it impresses me.

"Louise, sweetie," Saoirse sighs, "Please don't infect him. I have a chance to have a friend that knows bands I know and you're taking that away from me."

"There is a very simple solution to that problem," she replies, "Like better bands."

"I refuse to do anything of the sort. Now, where's the syrup?"

Troy needs to be worse at more things. Like one or two at most, because he is already at dad levels of pancakery. Not going to go too far into the thoughts on that. I just enjoy the sweet breakfast and eye the lake. I think we all need to cool off before the next round begins. I finally have a reason to pack a swimsuit and I'll be damned if I don't get a glimpse of the others in the same.

---

"I hate lakes," Louise squirms, "I hate lakes so much. Why did I come?"

"It's not so bad," I say, "A little cold, but you get used to it."

"That's not it. It's squishy. Why is the ground squishy?"

I would prefer the term squidgy, but that's just semantics. And she's not wrong. The silt flows and pushes up between my toes. There are spots of gooey moss that certainly aren't pleasant, but the dirt parts of the bed are alright. Honestly, though, the ground is not the most important part of the lake. The water is. And it is simply incredibly. Cold, but beautifully cold. The best cold. The sun beams and will probably burn one of us at some point. My money's on Saoirse. She's snow pale on her little rubber bed basking in red fabric. I can't look at her too long. Partly because I'll go blind. Partly because of the way her breasts slip over her chest, straining the brass ring to its limit as it connects the cups. If I stare at that too long, everything on me is going to rip and tear. And then I'm going to do the same to her and we're going to have sex in a lake. Louise does have the spirit right now. I imagine lake water is not the best thing to get in sensitive places.

Saoirse sighs from her perch and slowly rolls over. Entering the water with a minimal level of disturbance. I watch the ripples carry out. She rises majestically, dripping wet and pert in all the beautiful places. A deep river runs through her cleavage and that is better than any natural wonder I have ever seen. She nudges the floaty over to Louise and she scrambles up like a drowning cat. Troy says nothing through all this, digging in the shed for something, anything. And I am also assuming he is trying to be a gentleman and not stare at the three beautiful women who want to be stared at. I don't think it's at the top of any of our priorities, but I certainly wouldn't mind. I also think I see his head poking out from under his trunks. I like that. I hope it is what I think it is because that is its own wonderful little surprise. Still have yet to take that plunge and I can't wait to shatter that barrier. His prize is a simple ball of bright red plastic. He holds it above his head in unabashed pride before tossing it to me. Saoirse is next and we have a game going.

Louise lies on her stomach and her ass keeps distracting me. One piece of blue and it hugs her well. I also think she's arching her back in a desperate attention to maintain her newly claimed perch. Or for our shared admiration. Her legs tense and flex and then calm down. She's found a good level of equilibrium and there she shall stay forever more. The water pools and runs down the lines of her body. I look away for a moment to catch the ball and throw it away. Saoirse loses her balance for a moment but emerges victorious and continues the movement.

"Are we doing take out for dinner tonight?" I ask the group.

"Nope," Troy replies as he gives me the rock, "Got steaks in the freezer. I have access to a grill, and I plan to do continue my incredible magic for as long as I can. Got some corn too. Guess where that's going."

"Good," Saoirse says, "I'm just glad that we have someone who can cook with this little gang now. Y'know, Rachel actually burned scrambled eggs the first time I stayed over?"

Troy snorts and I throw the ball a bit harder than I have to. He catches it just fine, but he stumbles. An odd angle and Saoirse can't quite compensate. Ball goes high and she dives. The top strains and bounces but remains strong. Troy smiles and I join in. I like this smile. There is just the right amount of smug snake in there.

"And that means you go first," Troy says, "So tell the class, how did you lose your virginity?"

Louise perks up and I choke down a surprised grunt. So bold all of a sudden, especially for a man in the midst of shrinkage underneath a pair of floral board shorts. Saoirse looks at him and holds back the god hand of slaps before looking to us. She sighs, exasperated.

"Explain," she says.

"That's the game," he says, "If you miss a catch, then the thrower gets to ask a question. You have to answer the question."

"And the reason you said none of that before we started was why?"

"Because where's the fun in knowing what's going to happen? Answer the question. Or don't. But if you don't all your friends will think your lame."

She's going to hit him, and I don't blame her. She should still answer the question, mostly because I think it's funny. She sighs again and that makes her chest bounce. She could keep doing that as well. Either option really.

"I was at a party my freshman year of college. I got to talking with someone and we both kind of went from there. I was drunk and so was he and it wasn't that great from what I remember. He bragged about it to his friends, and I never talked to him again because he was kind of a douchebag in retrospect. I imagine that is like the blandest cookie cutter version of that story. Rachel either lost it within seconds of her birth or proceeded to rampage through her high school once puberty hit."

"If you want me to confirm anything," I say, "then you know how."

She nonchalantly tosses it over her shoulder, staring me dead in the eye. I think that is a technical foul, but the referee is turning that vulpine grin towards me and giving a shrug. Fair ball, I guess. The red rubber bounces happily along a seadoo's wake. I did not get the ball and the question hangs unanswered, slowly growing more and more impatient.

"It was high school," I say, "So that part's right. I was on the volleyball team, and we shared the gym with the cheerleaders. I got close to one of them and she saw me changing in the locker rooms. That led to a weird talk and then a good talk and then ice cream and then the back of her dad's old truck. Took forever to clean it out and we burned through like 5 cans of air freshener so her parents wouldn't notice anything."

Louise paddles as fast as she can to retrieve the ball. Still not worth it to actually get in the water, but she now has a reason to engage with us. She wobbles and shifts and tries to keep her balance. Another wake comes and knocks her over. She yelps and I rush to her aid, laughing all the while. She clings to me and rides piggyback as I hand her the ball. She tosses it and Troy fumbles at the 5-yard line, like a fool.

"Standard question," she says, "Hit me with it."

He gets adorably nervous and shuffley as he retrieves the ball. Almost bashful. It works just as well as bold and cocky, just as well as perky and happy.

"Well, um," he says, "This is a bit awkward. I was a freshman in college and I got a bit drunk at a party. I talked with someone and it kind of went from there. She was drunk too. It wasn't that great, but I bragged to all my friends and then she ghosted me because I was kind of a douchebag in retrospect."

"Shut up," Saoirse says, "That's my story. You have to give your story. You're not getting out of this that easy."

He gives a stupid little grin and it's adorable, especially when he has one little dimple but not the other.

"Okay, you got me. RA in my sophomore dorm. He put on this big Halloween thing that no one but me showed up to. So, I kind of hung around out of pity, but it ended up in his room the next morning and he got really clingy afterwards and it was kind of weird. Let me smoke in my room for the rest of the year though, so kind of worked out really. Louise, your turn."

"Nuh uh. Didn't do the ball thing. So, I have no obligations," she says, sticking her tongue out.

I loosen my grip and she drops. I catch her before she falls, but I have the threat established.

"Fine, fine, just don't drop me. Highschool boyfriend who was super sweet and nice. He really liked cars and wanted to work in his granddad's auto shop. He was moving away, and I wanted to have that be our last memory together. And it was nice and sweet and he gave me a single rose before our date when it happened. He was very good and now I'm kind of sad. Can we go in? I don't want to be on the lake anymore. I want one of those beers and a nice lay in the hammock."

I grope her ass and that's not quite the lay she wants. She'll get that though and then so will everyone else. Saoirse gets the ball and Troy gets the floaty and I get the Louise. Her eyes dip down, and her hands move my hair out of the way. Her eyes are on my cleavage and the swell of fabric on my crotch. She moves her legs down and starts a terrible chain reaction that the cold water stems the worst of for now.

---

Louise is napping, dozing in and out of consciousness in the late day sun. I watch her sleep and try not to be weird about it. She looks cute when she's asleep. All of her tucks in and folds over, trying to make herself as small as possible. I tend to spread out and conquer any space laid before me. She usually finds knicks and gaps to squeeze herself into when the circumstances allow. A single dread drapes itself across her neck and lays between her breasts, rising and falling as she breathes. Something shifts in her and she snores for a bit. I laugh and go back to my idle pondering of the world.

The lake has people in it now, terrible, horrible people. Probably. I don't know. I haven't talked to any of them. They blast terrible factory pop from pontoons. One group has set up a trampoline in the water. A lone old man on a kayak has his fishing rod in the water. He hasn't caught anything, and I don't think he will. Too much activity for scared little fishies.

Despite all the activity, I like this. Again and again, that notion comes back to my mind. I like the water. I like the trees. I like the heat and cold and rhythmic rise and fall of the world. So much movement and motion and I all want is stillness. Louise's hands slip away from the nesting cocoon and drape over my shoulder. I kiss the back of her hand and she stirs back to full awareness. She yawns and it's cute. It makes me yawn and I'm not tired, but still, kind of what yawns do.

"Is it dinner time yet," she asks. I shake my head. Close, sort of, but not close enough. More like after school snack time and we don't have too many of those lying around.

She pouts and that's cute as well. I kiss her arm and feel her slowly shift. Her other arm drapes over my neck and she rests her chin on top of my head.

"We're going to the beach next time," she says, "Where the ground isn't squishy."

I reach up and stroke her neck. It takes a bit of fenagling, but I can kiss her from here and that's all the affirmation I need to give. I would like to go to the beach where the ground isn't squishy, because that's where she wants to go, and we could have fun there. I think it might be a bit of hassle to get Saoirse and Troy down there too, but that's a problem for later. She slowly pours herself out of the hammock to lay in my lap and rise slowly back to full awareness. Bright eyed and bushy tailed and eager for the next wave of wonderful sensation in her life.

She decides that she wants to wiggle her hips and start that particular train barreling down to off rails. I respond in kind, taking my hands to her chest and starting a gentle massage.

"You've gotten a lot gentler," she murmurs, "Our first time was insane."

"I think you've just gotten tougher," I say.

"Probably a bit of both honestly. When's the last time you broke a punching bag?"

"The bags have gotten tougher too. Rob's changed suppliers."

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say."

Just to prove my strength, I lift her up and spin her around to face me. All of that work, all that power and she just sat through an instant whirlwind. I lift her up and set her down. I'm excited. It snakes up my hem and under my shirt. I squeeze my length between our stomachs, and everything I am comes to her and gets her shuddering.

"Okay, fine," she sighs as she keeps the motions in her hips, rolling up her stomach. I reach over and grab her ass. Still mine. She knows it. I know it. I am going to make sure that the people across the lake will hear ger scream that fact all through the night.

She kisses me again and I shove my tongue against hers. She said it was all going soft. I want her to realize that is wrong. We start there. We start with flushed shivering tongues and greedy lips. We start with terrible pawing and rough motions. Her hands dig into my shoulders, Strong, she is strong. Not enough to move and shake and rend me, but strong enough. She could probably pick me up if she wanted to, but I beat her to it.

We roll and tussle and rise until I have her spread out and carried like a princess. It's her turn now and she giggles, kicking her feet and trying to keep me close. I sway and twirl with her, moving to the cabin and back into solitude. The couch and the bed and the table and the floor, so many places, so many positions, so many perfect little moments we can have together. And our other friends are there as well. They can come and stare and join us if they want. Louise shifts and shimmies and tries to make me drop her. I don't. Just a test and I pass. I shove open the door and see Troy and Saoirse getting rather close. I chuckle. I like it. It's fun. Everything's fun.

"Of course," Saoirse sighs, "Of course it's that time everywhere."

"It's like nap time but better," Louise says.

"I'm turning into one of you. Pretty soon, I won't be able to get up in the morning without getting fucking railed into the dirt."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Troy says, hand around her shoulders.

"It is. Because what am I supposed to do without you? Can't really bar hop and hope to get the same treatment I can get from any of you."

Troy uses his newfound boldness to massage her breasts, worshipping their weight and heft. Such perfect things and something in her clicks. She slips into the heat she fought against so uselessly. It had to work a bit, but it was supposed to be a loss. I like bold Troy. He's fun. And he could go back to nervous Troy at any point. He shudders as a hand goes to his leg, tracing that shape so similar to mine. Louise giggles again and I think we all have the same train of thought. It will carry us all into the wonderful derailed crashed, tangled and mangled and turned all topsy turvy.

We tumble into them, and everything is everywhere. I kiss something warm and get kissed in turn. It is wonderful. Bodies on bodies on bodies, all stroking and touching. I feel the weight of Saoirse's breasts on mine, pushing and shoving and rolling. I kiss Troy and then I kiss Louise while he kisses Saoirse again. It all swirls and churns into a heady elixir, rose pink and bubbling merrily under a rising heat. I feel him get more and more excited under my shoulder blades. I think that's where I want this all to go at some point. Roll the dice and draw lots until it all has its answers.

And I am on top of Troy once again, a wonderfully dense mattress of chest and stomach and shoulders to lay on. His heartbeat is calm and collected, strong and steady. But it's getting more and more frantic. He's getting more and more excited. We rub up against one another. Our hips move together, sliding up and down, up and down, knotting and swirling and pushing past one another.

He is big. I love that. I love that simple, incredible fact. He is big and I like big. I like the way it presses into my stomach, along my abs, smearing with his preseed. I do the same to him. I mark him and he marks me.

As much as I love Louise and Saoirse's play, there is something unique in going against something similar to me. He is warm. He is burning and coming to me and I have him pinned down until I want him. I kiss him again and he shoves his tongue into my mouth. I'm surprised. I love it. It fishes and conquers me, and I let it happen. I take his wrists and pin him down. He fights it and there is no small amount of pride as he struggles. He might be letting me win, but I doubt it. I think I have him and if I don't, I can certainly try harder. I keep my hips moving and he bucks in time. I feel his stomach stitch and crack and his deluge grows thicker. Mine responds and it burns us both so beautifully. I want more. He will give me more. I will take more from him.

I rise from him, and he starts to put it all together. I am eager, an unfamiliar heat in my stomach that I know how to stroke. My core twitches and clenches, bobbing my length up and down and hitting his chest. He bounces as well, striking my thighs. He knows. He knows and there is that same fluttering weakness in his stomach that always comes with someone rising atop another naked.

I love how far I have to go to get us in position. Probably fit a whole football field between us. I reach past his belly button as well and that gives me some incredibly fun ideas, but that's for later. This is for now. I find his tip and my hands help everything get where it needs to be. He helps. He helps so much, with those wide eyes and tight lips. I am ready and willing and for the first time in a long, long time, I descend.

Heat, glorious heat. That's what gets me first. Every nerve in my core is singing of glorious heat. He stretches and tears the muscles and flesh with no effort. I am opened by him and all I can give is utter gratitude. This is heavenly. This is ecstasy. This is everything I've ever wanted. I am only an inch in, and I have everything. Tis all mine. Every part of him. Every part of Louise and Saoirse. Every part of my own self. All given and taken and stolen and shared, snapped up and dived like the spoils of war.

I drop more and every hit collapses. Everything in me is blank and numb, a dying star growing cold and still. I drop more and it all tis soft tingles and sparks. I am just a conduit of gentle care. My body has given out. I am just able to take the edges of what I can feel. I am able to have the softest, blunt little knives scrape and cut me. My hands are on his shoulders. His are on my hips. He's trying to be slow with it. I am not. I want more. I want more of him and there is more of him. I drop another inch and I am halfway.

Louise and Saoirse grow quiet and watch us. I don't mind. Their gaze feels good on me, icing the numb and heating the tension. They feel good on me as I keep dropping. More. There is more. I have more. I am full and starving, ravenous and salivating. I buck and twitch as he rises in me. I feel him stretch me and it is glorious. I do this too. I have a wonderful little shock as I realize it. They know. Every woman I've known has had this. I do this and I have this done to me. Given and taken, that's all the world could be. No need for tally marks or ledges. There is no book to balance, because it will always be enough or not enough. I do not have enough, and I will take more.