You Know I Can See You, Right? Ch. 07byMacSwain612©
I was awakened early by a knock at my front door. I located the shorts that I had tossed off last night, dragged them on the went to the door.
"Who is it?" I asked, truly having no idea who could be banging on my door at 7:30 of a Thursday morning.
"Marianne." Came the sweet voice from the other side. "I am sorry to have wake you?" she asked.
I opened the door to the luscious sight of Mari standing there in a short frilly skirt, espadrilles and a loose man's dress shirt casually knotted below her breasts. Her cleavage made it apparent that no bra was in evidence. Her hair fell loosely around her gorgeous face. Her smile was radiant. I noticed that the day was dawning kind of crummy. The weather would be kind of overcast today it appeared.
Marianne was carrying a large parcel.
"Bonjour Cher. Ça va?" She said, making no move to enter without invitation. I immediately jerked aside and ushered her in. her head swiveled and her smiling eyes never left me as she walked past.
Moving into the room, see made obvious note of the mess of my nest on the couch.
"This was you?" she asked, curious. I nodded moving to take her parcel. "I thought to bring some 'PD'." I had used the acronym 'PD' as a substitute for 'Petit Dejeuner' which she thought was so very American. Who but an American couldn't spare the extra moments it took to say the entire phrase.
She settled into the mess of blankets on the couch and set her stuff on the coffee table. She unloaded a thermos of coffee, a bowl of obviously homemade preserves, some croissants, and a selection of sliced meats and cheeses. I turned and head to the kitchen for cups, cream and sugar.
We had both poured out cups of hot black coffee when she noticed the presence of Mom at the bedroom door.
"Salud Szhudy, Cheri." She said with that lilting French pronunciation again.
Mom emerged wearing one of my dress shirts. She had closed only one button, near her tummy that barely covered her puss, and let her breasts sway and play peek-a-boo as she came over towards us.
"Coffee?" she asked excitedly. "You are such a sweetheart." When she reached us I handed her my cup. Mari and I were both gaping at her innate sexiness in my shirt. She noticed us watching and moved to gather the shirttail in front of her, covering her pussy, which was actually not visible, anyway "What? Am I showing?" she asked.
"I can only wish." I blurted not thinking. Mari gave me a look. I handed my coffee to Mom.
"You two are very exciting." She said with a naughty grin. Mom and I exchanged uncertain looks about possibly exposing the intimacy of our relationship with an outsider.
Mom continued to hold the shirttail in front of her crotch as she sipped coffee from my cup. I watched as Mari slowly reached out and gently, but firmly, removed Mom's hand from the material.
"It is no problem? Yes?" she asked. "It is okay?" Mari looked to me with a sweet smile. "We enjoy to not mind?" Moms hand fell to her side and then moved to her hip, which created the impression that she was posing in my shirt; maybe she was.
I fixed myself another cup and then leaned back into the couch, blowing my coffee cool and sipping it. I watched as Mari and my mother shared a long meaningful look. Mom reached out and gently tucked a stray wisp of Mari's hair behind her ear.
"You are so beautiful." She told my 'girlfriend'.
I wondered briefly, whether Marianne was my girlfriend. We were friends to be sure, and we'd gone out, even made out, but the title of 'girlfriend' had not yet been bestowed. Mom must have been on the same wavelength, because she then asked,
"Do you like being Andy's girlfriend?"
At first Mari's eyes didn't leave my mother's, but her hand came over to settle on my knee.
"Very much." She replied. 'Well.' I thought, 'that's settled.' Mari then turned to look at me with a gorgeous, radiant smile. She leaned over close and carefully kissed both of my cheeks. "Very much." She repeated quietly.
Mari then returned her gaze to Mom.
"Do you?" she asked Mom. Mom seemed completely taken aback by the question.
"Do I what?" she asked.
"Do you like being Awndy's girlfriend?" Mari asked again. "Also?" she added.
"I don't know what you mean." Mom stammered clearly unsure of what was being asked.
"Well, I know you are Awndy's mother, for sure, but I see you ... together. The way you are so sexy together; lovers." There was a long silent pause. "Lovers, yes?"
I looked up at Mom who now wore the deer-in-headlights expression, as her eyes swiveled back and forth from Mari to me. I realized the longer it took her to protest, or even respond, reinforced the impression that we were, in fact, lovers.
"What are you saying?" she asked, panicked. "I don't know what you're saying."
Mom's hand returned to clasp the material in front of her pussy again. I watched as her body language expressed her desire to curl up, close off, cover up any impression that we were intimate. She looked really panicked.
Mari rose to her feet and gently took Mom's shoulders in her hands, preventing her from running away.
"No, no, no, ..." she soothed. "Is okay. Please. No. Is okay. It is beautiful to me, this love." They shared a long look between them. "Please, I cannot say what, ... I do not speak right, this, ..." Mari looked to me, pleading for help. I sat there dazed as well, I didn't know how to help. I think we had been found out.
Mom just continued to stare at Mari with a horrified expression. Mari took her coffee and set it aside, then pulled her into an embrace and just held her there. Mom stood there with her hands just hanging for a while, and then they came up and embraced her back.
I sat, watching them for a while, then realized that Mari's shoulders were shaking. She was crying. Mom looked at me with a confused expression, then took hold of Mari and stood her up looking at her tear-stained face. When asked what was wrong, it took a few minutes for Marianne to explain how unloving her upbringing had been. Her father had been abusive in Lyon where she was born, the youngest of 4 siblings. She had not been wanted and they never let her forget it.
To escape the abuse that their father rained down on them all, her mother had moved them to Nice to a distant relative's house. They were barely welcome there. Marianne had become the embodiment of her mother's disappointment with how her own life had turned out, and at 16 Marianne hit the road. She related how she had lived, moving from place to place, staying on peoples couches and sometimes squatting in abandoned buildings with other runaways. Sometimes stealing and sometimes working for a pittance, all within a few miles of the rest of her family. No one ever came looking, or even asked about her. She had been disposed of.
The local chief of the police had become her savior, who she came to know from the frequency of her visits to jail. When the weather had been too miserable and she could find no other place to stay, a petty theft was all it took to get her a warm overnight in jail. These petty thefts were always the same; stealing one beer from the same small store along the corniche.
The owner knew her and knew her situation. He would call the cops, while she waited, have her arrested and then, the following day, drop all charges. Mari had even worked in his store briefly, when she had turned 18. Flavian, the store owner, had become an unlikely, but lifelong friend. Mari had a very few friends, trusting no one. He had died at 78 the year before I arrived in Nice, leaving her crushed and more alone.
Mom had come to sit down on the couch, Mari between us and we both consoled her as this tale of woe had literally poured out of her in fits of tears. She had never been loved, or treated kindly, until she met Gerard and his mother. Gerard was the Maitre of the restaurant where Mari worked. His mother owned the restaurant and ran it after Gerard's father ran off with some Italian starlet, who had happened up from Cannes during the film festival 10 years before.
And now, Mari had met us, myself and my mother, two people so full of life and love for each other and for her, that she was filled with envy and fear. Envy for the relationship we shared and had all our lives, for the love we expressed openly for each other, for the support we gave each other without condition. But she felt a deep fear that she would never find that for herself, that we wouldn't accept her into our lives, and mostly that she wasn't worthy.
We were all crying throughout her tale, but at this last admission, the 'mother' in my mother finally broke down and she flung her arms around this lovely, young, waif of a girl and sobbed aloud. They held each other tightly.
Mari had never admitted any of this to me, but then we hadn't reached that point in our relationship; I guessed that now we had.
Finally I turned her to me and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Marianne," I said, pronouncing it in French, "J' vous aim, ton Cherie." I told her gazing into her wet eyes. She gave me a look that expressed being thrilled and distrustful all at once. I just held her gaze, which softened the distrust part and she fell into my arms. I held her for a long moment. "You are such a wonderful girl." I told her. My Mom echoed the sentiment, rubbing her back.
My mother shifted from rubbing her back to lightly scratching her back. Mari moaned at how good it felt. Mom adjusted her position to be facing her more straight on, which made her face me more straight on as well. Now I was afforded a beautiful view down her shirt; my shirt actually. When Mom reached down to work her hands under Mari's shirt to scratch her bare skin, Mari moaned louder and moved a bit so that Mom could pull her shirt up a bit more.
After a minute, Mari sat up, wiped her eyes, kissed me gently and then undid the loose knot at her waist. Mom helped her out of her shirt and there she was, topless, practically in my lap. Mom continued to scratch her back and she settled back into my arms.
I just watched as Mom's fingers scratched every inch of her back, her neck, shoulders and arms, then her sides and gently over the swell of Mari's breasts on either side. Mari's moaning was quiet, but almost constant. Her arms were around me and her hands had worked into the waistband of my shorts and she was, in turn, scratching my butt and hips. This slow, gentle, sexy contact went on silently for many minutes.
I just sat there happily wondering where this would all lead.
"Your coffee is coming cold." She finally whispered to me. She looked up into my eyes with a look of such contentment that my heart melted. We kissed, long and soft.
As I moved a bit the fetch my coffee cup, Mari turned completely and she gently took my mother in her arms and they held each other. I could just make out Mari whispering to her, in her funny English, how lucky I was to have the love of such a wonderful mother. And for her to receive the same back from me. She had only dreamed that such a relationship could exist, and to find one that did, and feel a small part of it was a dream come true.
"You are a part of it, sweetheart." Mom told her. "A big part of it." Mari backed up a bit, looking straight into her eyes, her bare breasts, tip to tip with Mom's, barely covered in my shirt. Mari leaned in, tentatively. Mom didn't move. She moved further and they kissed. I noted that both their eyes were open, but shortly both rolled closed as their kiss continued. There was no movement, no passionate tongues jabbing, no rolling of the heads and grinding of the lips, just the contact. The contract that Mari must have dreamt of her whole life, now made real.
Mari sat up and slowly, testing Mom, reached down and unbuttoned the one button holding my shirt on her. Mom made no move to stop her, just watched her hands working, shaking slightly. Mari peeled the shirt gently off her shoulders and then I watched them sit there nipple to nipple for a moment, then resume their hug. It was gorgeous. They stroked each other's backs and gently rocked.
A while later, Mari moved to get up. Mom reached for my shirt to cover herself but Mari took it from her. She stood and, taking my hand, moved me into the position she had just vacated. I held my mother's gorgeous nude body to mine, stroking her back, her hips, her bottom. Mom did the same to me, eventually working her fingers into my shorts and scratching my butt cheeks.
"I love to watch you." Mari whispered in a sweet voice. "Beautiful, yes?"
"Yes." My mother agreed and she kissed me, hard. Her tongue probed and I received it deeply. She was now trying to get my shorts down but I was sitting on them. Mari noticed and helped me to my feet.
I stood there and let my mother and my girlfriend work my underwear off me until I stood there nude and totally erect. They then settled me back onto the couch and into my mother's arms again. We kissed some more, the arousal palpable. I could see Mari out of the corner of my eye. She sipped coffee from her cup and she kicked off her shoes, then began working at the buttons of her shorts. All at once they flopped to the floor, revealing a complete lack of panties. She stood nude next to us. Mom and I both, at the same moment reached out to draw her closer. We were on such the same wavelength.
We continued kissing but held Marianne's silky skin tightly to us. She in turn caressed us both. It was heaven!
When we broke our kiss, we both turned to kiss Mari's soft tummy. I noted that Mari had a lovely patch of cropped, downy, dark brown hair above her pussy, but her lips were completely shaved; adorable. My mouth watered to taste her. I ran my fingers through it, like spun silk.
"Is okay?" she asked. I gave her a questioning look. She reached down and strummed her fingers through her hair. "Is okay to have hair there?"
"Of course." I told her beaming.
Marianne told me that she had noticed that Mom was completely shaved and wondered if that was how I liked it. I told that I thought it was beautiful either way. I said that Mom had shaved herself, I hadn't asked for it.
Mari came around behind me, sitting on the couch. She reached around and took tender hold of my cock.
"I love your cock, Awndy." She told me. Mom's eyes flicked down to where Mari was stroking me. "It is very hard. And big too." She looked at Mom. "You love it as well?"
"Well, ... It is very nice, of course, ... but, ..."
"Do you make love every day?" Mari asked her.
"What?!" she spit out. "What do you, ... How could you, ..." She was struggling to find words.
"Mari, we never, ... " I fumbled, trying to help.
"We're not lovers." Mom finally blurted. Mari sat up straight, confused.
"But, ... I thought that, ..."She made a move to get up quickly but I found her hands and held them, capturing her in place. "I'm so sorry, ..." she broke into a long apology in French that flowed so quick even I didn't get most of it. The panic in her voice though, was evident. She sounded embarrassed, and panicky, like she had kicked shit on us.
Mom quelled it by grabbing her face in both hands and shushing her.
"It's okay. It's okay." She told the girl. "Totally honest mistake, now that I think about it. Why wouldn't you think that?' Mari quieted. "Andy and I aren't lovers. At least ..." Her eyes came to meet mine. "... at least we haven't, ... not really. Not in person." She finally added.
"Come. We need a moment to regroup, I think." I grabbed my shirt and held it out for my mother, who stuck her arms in and buttoned that one button again. I held Mari's shirt out for her as well and tied the knot for her. I didn't bother with my shorts. I picked up the forgotten breakfast and took it to the table. The girls joined me and we sat and ate and took a long time explain to Marianne how this whole fucked up, wonderful, disastrous, exciting adventure began. Our story ended with Mari knocking on the door this morning.
"Merde." She whispered when we stopped talking. "Incroyable" she said gazing at Mom. "What an incredible, ... faute, ..."
"Mistake." I translated. "Or not. Maybe it wasn't a mistake after all. Maybe something more cosmic, that is driving us to be lovers." I shared a brief glance with Mom.
"Do you want?" she asked Mom. "I know you want!" she told me with a giggle, glancing, none too subtly, at my erection. Mom was thoughtful.
"Oui." Mom said quietly. "I think I do." She turned to face me full on, with a look that dared the future. My heart was pounding. "But," she turned to Mari, "what about you? Where does that leave you and, ... Awndy?" she added, mimicking Mari's pronunciation, smiling. Mari grinned as well.
"I think that I want ... Andy." She admitted with a glance at me, trying hard to Americanize her pronunciation of my name. Her eyes came fully to mine. "I wish for you, ... and me, ... to be ...." Her sentence remained incomplete, but the thought was complete.
We were silent for a time, each lost in our own thoughts. We ate quietly, mulling over the brave new landscape we faced. I got up, wandered to the window, cock swaying heavily. It was still very grey out, gloomy even. I felt that all the sunshine in the world was captured inside my little apartment, bright with promise, with these two sexy, half-naked, gorgeous women at my table. I turned to see both girls in identical poses, chin in hand as they gazed at me, their potential lover. I had a fleeting thought that I was in for it now. I felt my penis lurch a bit at the thought.
"So." I asked, "What happens now?" The girls looked at each other and fell to fits of nervous giggles. The air fairly crackled with tension. Anything was possible. "How about a shower and a drive up the coast?"
"Really?" Mom asked incredulously. "Two beautiful naked women here, that want you, and that's what you come up with?" she asked, half joking. I was thoughtful a moment.
"This is the start of something that I truly hope will last a lifetime, my gorgeous lovers. Both of you. I think we can wait another couple hours? Yes?"
After a bit of ribbing I headed for the shower.
"Join me? There's room. Well, maybe room for three. We can try anyway." As I entered the bathroom I glance back to see them both rising out of their chairs. 'Holy Shit!' I thought.
The water was scalding hot as I washed off quickly. Shortly the glass door opened and there stood my own mother, and my new girlfriend, beautifully nude and getting in the shower with me. Turns out there was just enough room for three, but not without a lot of 'Excuse me's' and 'Pardon me's' and giggling. They both took turns washing me and my aching cock and balls. I washed them and thrilled to the sight of them washing each other a bit.
"I love you." I told my mother and kissed her deeply. Then I turned to Marianne. She wore a panicked, but hopeful expression. I realized at that moment that, "I love you too. I love you Marianne." She was doing her best not to cry and masked it by grabbing me and kissing me so hard it hurt. Mom hugged us tightly.
"I do too, sweet girl. I do too."
An hour and a half later we were driving into Monaco in a gentle drizzle. Mom sat in the front seat with Mari on her lap. I didn't want either of my new lovers to have to sit in back. I was going to need a car with a bench seat, I told myself. We drove around town, pointing out the sights for Mom who oohed and ahhed, craning her neck this way and that. Truly a gorgeous little municipality.
We parked as close as possible and ran through the mist into a back alley restaurant that Mari knew. We sat at a small table in the window, knees touching all round, and ate a light meal and drank wine. We all felt that warm fuzzy blush of constant arousal and nervous anticipation.
We visited an art museum, mostly empty on this gloomy day. I let the girls wander off together and observed them leaning their heads in together, plotting I think. Boy was I in for it. I kept thinking. I couldn't wait. I decided not to push at all, but let them guide and direct the unfolding of our new relationship. I would be ready, willing and able for anything, but would leave the details up to them. I think they sensed it and the plotting continued.