Double Time
Chapter 69
“Without music, life would be a mistake.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols
I WENT TO CHURCH with Mom and Dad and Pey Sunday morning. I even managed to get up early enough to make pancakes and bacon before Pey came stumbling out of her bedroom to give me a hug. It might have been because I was a good child Sunday morning that Mom and Dad failed to mention I’d missed curfew last night.
During Rev. Davis’s sermon, I got to thinking about the meaning of ‘service’. The word was commonly tossed around now to simply mean ‘National Service’, as if serving two years for the country was all the service a person was expected to do. Rev. Davis talked about the difference between mandatory service and voluntary service, quoting the scripture that said ‘If someone forces you to go with him one mile, go with him two miles.’ I found myself falling into the mindset of my contemporaries, that the government shouldn’t have the right to force us into service. When Adrienne, Leslie, and Rosie left our table last night, they’d held eye contact with Joan, Rachel, and Livy. The six girls had put their hands together in the middle of the table like a football team in a huddle. Then they’d burst out, “Repeal 28!”
I was going to ask Em how she felt about that when she called this week. She was in the service. Would she be angry if the twenty-eighth amendment was repealed after she’d already served her time? Repealing the amendment wouldn’t be something done overnight, though. If they started the ball in action now, I’d probably still be through my service before the repeal was ratified. I started to realize how completely fucked up and contradictory my V1 opinions had been. Oh, I had a solution for everything. Making all kids serve for a year or two would teach them discipline and get us ahead of badly needed infrastructure repairs. Trading off free college seemed to be a good idea, but kids would come out of service with skills they could use to become productive citizens at once.
On the other hand, I’d been opposed to a lot of social services programs as wasteful and giving a handout to people who didn’t deserve it. I figured that was what churches and charities were for and the government shouldn’t be funding them.
But mandatory service undercut the very volunteer services that I thought should be responsible for helping the poor and homeless and immigrants and the sick. This government didn’t have charitable tax-deductible donations. But now the church could receive government grants for providing the same social services I’d believed should be provided by charities that I felt should be better regulated and not tax-deductible.
I felt a nudge in my side and stood up for the last hymn.
“It looks like you were out last night a little too late to stay awake during church,” Dad said. I started to protest and just shut my mouth. Hadn’t I told everyone V1 knew that parents needed to hold their children accountable for their actions? That’s what was wrong with the world. IMHO. We sang and left the church. It still felt odd not to have an offering.
After we’d eaten lunch at a Mexican restaurant, we went home and I went to my room to play my guitar.
I guess I played a long time. I looked up and Pey was standing beside me. I couldn’t remember what I’d been playing.
“Mom wants to know if you are coming out for popcorn and TV,” she said.
“Already?”
She took my left hand and looked at my fingers. I realized they were numb. They were red and swollen.
“You did that before… J, don’t die.”
“Oh, God no!” I said, setting the guitar aside and catching my little sister in my arms. “I’m a whole different person now, Pey. I’ll never do that again. I just had a lot on my mind this morning and I guess I got carried away playing. Don’t ever think that just because I get lost playing the guitar it means I’m going to go away. I’m not, baby sister. I’m not.”
I held her and rocked her for a few minutes and then carried her out to the living room. We watched a new video on Netflix and ate popcorn and drank milk and were a family.
The teachers were right back into the swing of things on Monday morning with the start of the second grading period. If anything, it seemed like they were piling on more homework than ever. I guess that’s how it always seems. Last year at this time, I didn’t have anything to do but sit at home and study. What a long way I’d come in a year.
I agreed with Mom and Dad to have a quiet family celebration of my sixteenth birthday on Thursday night. In return, I’d have all afternoon and evening to celebrate with my girlfriends who were planning a party and day of fun. Only Rachel and I knew that the first part of that day of fun was going to be between Livy’s legs. The thought of that made me clench my knees together as my cock pulsed.
Mom made beef stroganoff for my birthday dinner. That was always one of V1’s favorite dishes and my V3 mother was a better cook than V1’s. Peyton made me a birthday hat and I sat at the place of honor at the table while Mom gave me a huge serving of stroganoff. I was laughing pretty hard when Dad suggested that I might have another five or ten girlfriends by this time next year.
“You know, though, son, we love your girlfriends. It was much harder for us to make friends with the parents of Emily’s boyfriends than with the parents of your girlfriends. Maybe it was because all those boys were a kind of threat, but also Emily let it be known they were temporary. Your girlfriends have a kind of stickiness to them. We don’t worry about losing new friends when you break up.”
Wow! That’s more words in one paragraph than I’ve heard my dad say in a long time. As I looked back, though, I could see where he was coming from. V1 had a daughter and I looked at every boy she dated as a threat to her virtue and a threat to our family unit. It wasn’t as difficult with our son but I always thought that was just because we’d done it once before and understood childrearing better.
“Who’s ready for birthday pie?” Mom asked. I’d never been much of a cake fan and when I asked for a lemon meringue pie for my twelfth birthday, it started a new tradition of pie on my birthdays. Mom brought out an apple pie that had those brown sugar crumbles all over the top instead of a crust. I just love that one. My phone rang just as Mom brought out the pie with sixteen candles on it. I answered it and Em joined in singing happy birthday. I blew out the candles and talked to Em while Mom cut the pie and Dad dished ice cream.
“Happy birthday, J.”
“Thank you, Em. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. It’s only another week, though. I get a week’s vacation after training here. I’ll be home next weekend.”
“Really? That’s great! A whole week? Maybe I can cut school that week. We can run in the mornings and talk all night.”
“You know, others are going to want a piece of my time, too,” Em laughed. “And we have to save some time to be with the other girlfriends. Someone needs to teach me to salsa dance!”
“You bet! Em, that’s the best news ever!”
Em stayed on the line while I opened my presents. Pey gave me a keyring. I had a package from Em that included a nice pair of driving gloves. Mom had already promised to take me to get my driver’s license on Monday. I was blown away, though, when dad handed me a guitar case with a bow on it. It was heavy enough that I could tell it wasn’t just the huge case. I clicked open the latches and looked inside. The label on the lid declared that it was from Zaveleta’s. I recognized the instrument. I’d lusted for it ever since I saw it at Vinnie’s guitar shop where I took lessons. A classical Spanish concert guitar with a rounded back. I’d long ago—in V2—replaced the steel strings on my acoustic guitar with nylon strings because I was never interested in rocking out. I loved the soft mellow tones of classical guitar music. But having a real concert guitar was beyond my wildest dreams. This guitar cost more than $10,000!
“Dad! I don’t know what to say! It’s so beautiful!” I couldn’t imagine how my parents ever afforded an instrument like this.
“Just keep playing, son. Sometimes, late at night, your mother and I stay awake with our door open just to hear you play.” Mom and Dad were holding hands. That’s something V1 would never have seen. Pey got as close to me as she could.
“Can I sit with you while you play tonight?” she asked. There had been many times in the past few weeks when my baby sister had come into my room while I was playing and settled in to lean against me. Those nights usually ended with me carrying her into her bedroom and tucking her in. I just nodded, not sure I could say anything.
“So, what are your birthday words?” Dad asked, extending his phone with the record light on.
“I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m thinking I might want to do something service oriented. I don’t know what it is. I just think we need to take more responsibility for the condition our world is in.”
Dad smiled and clicked off the recording.
18 October 2019
Houston, we have a problem. I only realized it when I woke up this morning. Last night was magical. I sat and played for two hours, getting used to the feel of my new guitar. New to me. It was probably close to fifty years old and showed a few light spots where fingers had worn the finish. I needed to get used to the wider neck, the round back, and the gut strings. Every tone that I plucked from its strings just sang in our living room.
But that’s not the problem. It finally sank in that Em is going to be home for a week next weekend. Precisely, next weekend on Desi’s sixteenth birthday. Desi and I have played and fooled around so much that the idea of actually fucking on her birthday has taken hold and is a major event the whole pod is looking forward to. I think they all just want to know what it will be like for Desi to have me as a sex slave for two weeks. But I’m not going to start that servitude during the week that Em is home on vacation! Who knows how long it will be before I see my sister again?
So, what do I do now? This problem is going to need more than duct tape and WD40.
I ran Friday morning. I didn’t have to worry about school since this was parent-teacher conference day. Nanette picked me up at our usual time and I was surprised she took us out in the country where we’d had a long run a few weeks ago.
“All you have to do is keep up with me,” she said. “Don’t worry about your pace or what distance we are running. Just match me.”
It’s never been a problem to follow Nanette’s butt while we’re running. She’s even thinner than Livy, though not as tall. She is tight and lean and strong. I can well imagine that Livy will look a lot like her in fifteen years or so. Not a bad thing to look forward to.
I didn’t get to admire that view for long. Nanette wanted me to run beside her. We didn’t talk much other than for her to correct me a few times with “Match my stride.”
I recognized the final mile when we made the corner and Nanette picked up the pace. Talking was out of the question now. Matching her stride as she lengthened it was a tough one, too. My lungs were aching when we passed the car and she started to slow down to walk for half a mile before we got back to the car and got our breath back. She grabbed a blanket from the car and tossed it on the grassy berm.
“Stretch,” she commanded. We did side-by-side stretches and then I held her legs in the lower back stretch position with the obvious result that the tip of my new-found erection was just brushing up against the back of her thighs. I was looking down at her flushed face and slightly rounded boobs under the sports bra running top. I was tempted to push her legs apart and fall down on her as I’d done once a few weeks ago. Before I could act on the thought, she pushed me away and switched places. The stretches felt good and almost made me forget about the way she was rubbing my hamstrings while she pushed against me. She popped up and grabbed the blanket to toss it in the back of her car.
Just as I was reaching for the door handle, she grabbed me and spun me to face her. She pushed me against the car and brought her mouth to mine in a kiss that pulled my flagging attention back to full rigidity. She wasn’t content to just have it rise between us, she stood on tiptoes and ground her pussy against it. I automatically gave her some support by grabbing her rock-hard buns and pulling her to me.
“Happy sixteenth birthday,” she whispered as she hugged me and continued to rock her pelvis.
“Nanette…” She pushed away from me and held up her watch for me to look at.
“You just set a new personal best in the 10k and dropped well below the median for male runners in America.” I looked at the watch and it said 44:00.0. I wondered how the heck Nanette had managed our pace so perfectly. She didn’t give me any more time to think about it. She unstrapped the watch from her wrist and handed it to me. “Next time, make me keep up with you. Happy birthday.”
I was blown utterly away. My forty-year-old fantasy woman had just given me a tonsil reaming with her pussy grinding against my cock, drove me to a personal best running pace, and gave me a pacing watch as a birthday gift. Then she drove me home, gave me another quick peck and ‘happy birthday’, and drove off.
I was showered, shaved, and had breakfast long before Rachel arrived to go to Livy’s house. I knew I should do some reading in my History text but I grabbed my guitar and started playing. The gut strings were like silk under my fingers and I closed my eyes to let the music flow over me.
US History was an important subject for me. I was relieved to find that most of what I remembered of US History from my V1 life was still the same. The big dates were all there. The major players were who I remembered, though I was amazed at how much I’d forgotten of what V1 lived day after day. As I read in my history book, I was reminded of things. Right and left wings throughout history seemed to be slightly less extreme but not enough to prevent things like the Civil War or the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. Civil Rights campaigns in the ’60s had slightly fewer riots than I remembered, but it was not enough calmer to prevent the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.
The big differences seemed to be key elements in the formation of the country. The Constitution condemned slavery, but did not forbid it. It was a simple sentence in Article I Section 2 that I remembered as fundamental to the allocation of representatives for each state. I almost missed it and found my memories of history barely adequate to realize the phrase giving a representative to each state for three-fifths of all ‘other Persons’. I remembered debating that allocation in college when we were discussing a theoretical amendment to the electoral college. At the same time, importation of new slaves was banned in Section 9 immediately rather than the 1800s as I recalled.
A side-effect of the Civil War and the abolition of slavery was that Southern States received an immediate increase in representative allocation due to the near-doubling of their free population. The North-South divide was still alive and well.
The other major difference was in the separation of church and state. This was not a matter for the first amendment but rather was part of Article I Section 1 of the constitution. “All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives. No special class of citizens, whether Religious nor Noble nor Royal shall be granted special privileges by Congress nor any State legislature not given to all Common Citizens.”
And that was why there were no non-profit charitable organizations nor tax exempt churches in my V3 reality. As I played my guitar, I fell into a kind of meditation trance that let my mind wander through the far-reaching possibilities of what this meant. I needed to integrate my present reality with my memories and found myself replacing V1 memories with V3 history. If I didn’t do this, I would forever be acting and responding to a different set of rules than what I knew here.
By the time I finished playing and Rachel rang our bell, I realized I was systematically killing off a portion of my former self.
Livy was surprised when both Rachel and I showed up at her door and broke out in a grin a mile wide as she realized what it implied. We didn’t just rush into bed and fuck, even though I think Livy was hoping we would. At the same time, it didn’t take long for us to all get naked. Watching Livy and Rachel kiss and touch each other was going to give me a perpetual hard-on.
First, we got our date into a tub of dense bubbles that had a fresh clean scent. It wasn’t overwhelming like so many bath additives I’d experienced in V1. Those always seemed to make my eyes water. Rachel took charge of bathing Livy while I was relegated to the kitchen to prepare our tray of food. Rachel and I had spent time at my house cutting fruit and preparing dips, making little open-face sandwiches, and arranging chocolate truffles. We were trying to make Livy’s day as much like a high-class spa treatment as we could. It would simply progress a little further than most day-spas were prepared to go.
I poked my head into the bath to find Rachel in the tub behind Livy, massaging her scalp. She nodded that they were ready for the second stage and I ran to the dryer to remove warm towels and sheets.
Livy was dripping when I started winding the sheet around her body as Rachel dried her hair. When she was wrapped up like a mummy, I carried her to her bed and lay her carefully down and covered her with a quilt. We kept her slightly inclined so we could feed her tidbits of food and sips of tea while she lay confined in the sweat wrap. We interspersed loving kisses with the food.
“I just want to hug you and love you,” Livy said in a bit of frustration. “But I love being your captive. I feel like I need to just relax and let you do whatever you want to me and I’ll be happy.”
Before the wrap cooled too much, I began running my hands up and down her body, letting her know that we were in charge as Rachel fed and kissed her. Then we began the unwrapping. No sooner had the sheet been removed than I started oiling Livy’s back and massaging her. Soon, Rachel’s hands joined mine and we kneaded our lover into mass of jelly. I was hard as a rock and periodically, Rachel would reach over to stroke me with her oily hand, just as I reached over to oil her breasts or run a hand between her legs. Massaging Livy was also an act of making love to Rachel.
When we rolled Livy to her back, we knew our patience was not going to last much longer. We kissed and sucked her nipples before massaging them with oily hands. We rested Livy’s hands against our chests as we massaged her arms and shoulders. I could feel the tiny pulses in her fingers reflecting the squeezes she was giving Rachel’s breast. When we moved to her feet and began massaging up her calves and thighs, Livy’s legs fell wide open, too much of an invitation to pass up. I thought Rachel had been between Livy’s legs before but she seemed suddenly shy and motioned for me to go first.
I took a long lick from Livy’s anus to her clit and felt her shudder in her first small orgasm. When I lifted my eyes, I found Rachel had shifted around so her knees were on either side of Livy’s head. She grinned at me and I backed off a bit as she took her own lick from top to bottom. Livy shuddered again. Then Rachel and I kissed, both of us tasting of our lover and relishing the flavor. As we kissed, Rachel jolted back and gasped. I looked between us to see that Livy had risen to action from her languorous state and had pulled Rachel’s pussy down to her own lips.
Rachel straightened up above Livy’s face and pulled me forward, directing my cock to Livy’s blonde thatch. As soon as it touched her wet lips, Livy began to keen and shook her head between Rachel’s thighs. As I thrust deeply into her, all three of us began to mount to an orgasm. If not exactly in sync, we all found a fulfillment and collapsed together on the bed.
Our afternoon was far from over. We made love in every position we could think of, but Livy begged that we go easy on her pussy so she wasn’t too sore to run in the Semi-State Competition in the morning. We interspersed our lovemaking with more food and tea, manicuring and painting her nails, showering again and Rachel carefully doing Livy’s hair as Livy attempted not to get too agitated as she rode my mouth.
At five o’clock, after we’d cleaned up all our mess and the evidence of our lovemaking, the three of us set off for Joan’s where my official birthday party was about to start.
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