Double Twist
Chapter 193
“Between death and taxes, choose death.”
—Aaron Rubin, Financial Adulting
9 APRIL 2022
It’s almost nine and I just got out of bed. The second time. The first time I woke up, my cock was sandwiched between Donna’s ass cheeks, hard and ready. I nudged at her a little just because it felt so damned good and found she was ready as well. She opened her legs and I slid into her from behind. We don’t often make love in that position and the change was exciting. So was having Beca licking up my balls and shaft to tickle Donna’s clit. Just wow!
Once I finally got out of bed with my two lovers, I thought I’d get dressed and go for a run but Nanette caught me. She dragged me to bed with her, Brittany, and Sophie. Not like she had to try all that hard to get me to make love to my three wonderful wives.
It’s strange. They’re my wives now—or as close as current laws allow them to be. I have eleven wives—officially—but last night, Remas and Cindy were absolutely all over me. And each other. That was after I spent the day licking and fucking with Desi, Em, Rachel, and Livy. After all, we’re on our honeymoon.
And part of that was looking for a place to live. We actually found a couple of potential places. The big decision looks like it will come down to ‘rent or buy?’ We need to spend some time on our finances and figure out how actually being a plural domestic partnership works as opposed to owning a limited liability company where our patronage money and contract money is paid. I think Sophie is spending more time working with an accountant than she is dancing these days.
So, there wasn’t a huge amount of reaction to our concert for the president Wednesday night. Most of the comments on our feed were positive. The lamb entrée served after our performance was tasty and I didn’t feel like we’d been sacrificed to provide it. The recorded version, complete with the president’s introduction, went out Thursday morning.
Now we need to head back to Indiana this afternoon. The honeymoon’s over, as they say. The difference is that all those of us who aren’t yet in service will be living together now. Neither Brittany nor Cindy has to return home. I’m sure they will, just to keep relationships positive. But we live together now. I’m still trying to get my head around the idea that the eight of us living at Donna’s are married to each other. I still hear a whisper of the Old Man in the back of my head that wonders how I managed this without being thrown in prison. And then I slide into Cindy’s tight little pussy and he just fades away in the midst of cardiac arrest.
Well, I guess we need to pack things up and go home. What a concept!
I still wondered at the lack of response amongst our peers when we returned to school on Monday. It was like no one either knew or cared that we’d just done a concert at the White House. On the other hand, there were a few people who planted themselves at our table at lunch to talk about our wedding. Cellphones were out with pictures being shown of the ceremony, our apartment in DC, house hunting, and a few in the White House.
“I still can’t believe you did it!” Carol, our Vivaldi soloist, exclaimed. “All I have to do is look at the four of you together and my panties get all sticky. And then I think, this is only a third of you. Was that really a picture of Ms. Levy at your wedding? The teacher who fueled the fantasies of every boy who ever took her class—and most of the girls? And she’s your wife? Oh, God! What I wouldn’t do to put my face between those breasts!”
“We’ll have you over to dinner one night,” Cindy said.
“Yeah. You look really tasty,” Beca added. Carol just squeaked.
Of course, I didn’t think we’d really do anything with Carol, though I had to agree with Beca’s assessment. I could well imagine eating… Geez! I must be getting as bad as the girls!
There wasn’t time to dwell on either fame or sex. The spring concert was coming up on Thursday and even though neither Cindy nor I had solos, we still needed to rehearse with the orchestra. And even though Carol had the lead through the entire Vivaldi piece and David played with her through the third movement, I played the mandolin with her in the second movement. I wasn’t playing guitar at all in this concert, but rather mandolin and viola da gamba. That kind of pissed me off since I still considered myself a guitarist more than anything.
But I didn’t have time to get complacent. The week after the orchestra concert, Cindy and I would have our first official deputation assignment. We’d be playing a forty-five-minute senior assembly at Bishop Dwenger High School. I mostly knew them as competitors in cross country. We’d be playing at ten-thirty Friday morning the twenty-second and answering questions about the National Service reform. The following day, we were scheduled for a concert in Marion that would be a full two hours including intermission. This was a lot different than playing a live stream for subscribers who expected us to perform something new every time. We had a core of pieces we set and a group of pieces we played to expand on the core for different concert lengths. We were still experimenting a bit, but tended toward the livelier pieces, like our tangoes. Of course, we’d end each performance with our rendition of Mozart on Fire.
We were in high school and had homework. We had rehearsals. We had performances. And Nanette, Sophie, Donna, and Emily made it clear that what we didn’t have was a mother. We all had to pitch in and do the housework, cooking, cleanup, and maintenance. Maybe you think girls are naturally neater and cleaner than guys. If that is your opinion, you obviously haven’t lived with seven of them. It seemed we all had our own little obsessions. Even me. I hated it when the bathroom sink was left a mess. It seemed like I was constantly organizing bottles of lotion and makeup, wiping hair out of the sink, and cleaning hairbrushes. Emily shared some of my obsession, I suppose having developed it with me while sharing a bath while growing up.
Beca developed an obsession with having clear and clean kitchen counters. Even the toaster—which I would have just left plugged in on the counter—had a little garage she parked it in when not in use. Donna wanted clean sheets and towels more than once a week. Cindy hated dust as it made her sneeze when she was playing the flute. There was always a fifteen-minute period in the evening that the vacuum was running.
I was surprised that Brittany shared some of Beca’s kitchen passion. She loved to cook but never left a dish unwashed in the process. If she used a bowl to beat eggs for an omelet, then she washed the bowl while the omelet was cooking. It drove her crazy to find dirty dishes in the sink.
Those first two weeks of actually living together full time were filled with learning each other’s quirks and passions. I’m afraid as hard as we were working, our loving was mostly limited to cuddles and sleeping on each other’s shoulders.
“Jacob, have you reviewed and signed your taxes?” Sophie asked as we were preparing to leave Friday morning.
“Oh, yeah. I suppose I should do that. When are they due?”
“Today.”
“Oh, shit.”
“I’m not your accountant. I took care of the business taxes and coordinated with the tax man, but you have to file your own income tax.”
“Isn’t there some kind of family filing we have to do?” I asked. Shit! How were taxes for a plural domestic partnership figured?
“Not this year. We weren’t registered for 2021. That’s just something else we have to deal with now that we’re…” Sophie’s voice faded off and she looked far away. I wrapped her in my arms.
“Now that we’re a family,” I whispered in her ear.
“I never let marriage figure into my plans,” she whispered as I nuzzled against her neck. “I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to adjust. I do love you. All of you.”
“Of course you do,” I said. “We just have to deal with the messy parts as well as the fun parts.”
“Some of the fun parts are pretty messy, too,” she giggled, reaching back to stroke my cock. I pressed it against her as I hardened. “Do we have time?” she whispered. “Time to get a little messy?”
“Sophie, I always have time for you. I want you. I want your lips and your tongue. I want to caress your breasts. I want to part your legs and play between them. I want to hear you gasp your orgasm and call my name.”
“Here. Now,” she said as she worked at my belt. She fell back on the sofa and pulled her skirt up and her panties down. “Don’t wait. We haven’t much time. I haven’t felt you in me since the last day in DC. Part my legs and play in my garden. I want you now, Jacob.” By the time she’d finished her little spiel and parted her inner lips with her fingers, I had my pants around my ankles and was leaning forward to touch the tip of my cock against her wet entrance. “Push! In me, now!” I gladly obeyed and for five minutes we were a frantic mass of pounding wet noise. Her smooth pudenda sucked at my cock and I delivered a load I didn’t realize I’d been carrying. She screeched and I caught a glimpse of Cindy, Beca, and Britt standing in the doorway watching.
I fell forward on Sophie and we tried to suck whatever moisture was left in our bodies out through our tongues. Beca cleared her throat.
“Go! You have to get to school,” Sophie said. She pushed me up and I tucked my sloppy cock directly into my trousers.
“This isn’t over,” I hissed. “Not by a long way.”
“Talk to me after you’ve signed your taxes.”
The four of us headed to the truck and I was subjected to the girls giggling at me all the way to school.
It was the first time I could remember that I didn’t go to church on Easter Sunday morning. I couldn’t. Emily joined Mom and Dad. I went for a run. I alerted Nanette, but I needed to run alone. For a long time. I suppose I ran a marathon. I didn’t run it for time. I was gone nearly five hours. When I got back, there was food on the table and I was practically force-fed by my oldest girlfriend. Then she took me to the shower and scrubbed me thoroughly.
We went to bed. I went to sleep. Nanette cradled me in her arms and the last sensation I was aware of was one of her tears dropping on my head.
The next Friday, Emily, our logistics manager, met Cindy and me after second period and loaded us into the truck for the short trip to Bishop Dwenger. She had a Bluetooth earbud in and was talking the entire way over. Rachel was on the other end and they were testing their coordination. It seemed to be working well as a woman met us at the entrance and conducted us straight to the auditorium where we’d be performing. The school AV team had a speaker system set up that we could use to talk to the students but we wouldn’t be using amplification of any sort for the music. Emily would be monitoring the performance and we’d make adjustments before next week’s performances.
Music was only part of the performance, though. We paused three times to talk to the students. We weren’t just there to entertain. We were on a mission.
“How many of you have already turned eighteen?” I asked. Close to three-quarters of the 250 or so students raised their hands. “All excited about entering service?” There were a few groans and a couple of claps. “Cindy and I are so excited about it, we’re doing time for the service four months before we actually enter,” I laughed. “Seriously, I’ve been through every emotion as I’ve been considering the National Service over the past two years. I was really PO’d when my sister went into service three years ago. And even more when her manager tried to keep her from leaving at the end of her term. The more I dug into it, the more I realized how badly managed it was. And when I found out the conditions corps members lived in who were forced to work in the fields in California, I kind of went berserk. I made a comment to the National Service Review Commission to the effect that the president needed to do something, right fucking now.” There was a lot of laughter at my expletive. I saw a couple of the teachers shaking their heads.
“Fortunately, she didn’t hear that one. But the truth was we were working toward the same end and service reform is underway. I’ve met some of the people who are working on it and they are good people. Doesn’t mean they’re flawless or that things are all better now, but I’d encourage you to take your dream into the service with you. If you dreamed of becoming an artist or musician, take that dream into service. If you want to explore Mars, take that dream with you. If you want to play professional football… yeah. You got it. Take the dream with you. It’s no guarantee that your dreams will all come true. But the new National Service isn’t going to stand between you and their fulfillment. Take control.”
We played some more pieces and then there were a couple of questions.
“Are we all going to have to work in the fields?” a guy shouted out when I asked for questions.
“I don’t know for sure. A lot of us will, but the term of service at hard labor has now been reduced to three months unless you volunteer or show a particular aptitude toward agriculture. You know, I understand that a little. Look at how our grocery stores have changed in the past year. The cost of food has risen. Certain foods are now considered luxury items and the price of avocados has skyrocketed. Without the presence of National Service Corps persons in those fields, we’d be facing a serious food shortage in this country. Imagine that! A shortage!
“The problem is that long before there was a National Service—I mean think back to before the Civil War—providing food for our tables has been based on slave labor or its equivalent. When Lincoln freed the slaves, that only solved a piece of the problem. They were replaced with so-called paid labor. But labor has never been paid a living wage for picking cotton or hoeing tomatoes or harvesting corn. And since workers in this country refused to do tiresome back-breaking work for the wage that was offered, we found a way to import cheap labor and pay them even less. When that labor force dried up, we enslaved each other and were sent to the fields to do hard labor for less than minimum wage.
“You want to know what hasn’t happened? Profit margins for the seven large agricultural industry conglomerates haven’t dropped. I have been accused of trying to start a rebellion among the field workers in December—something that was thwarted by the president’s address and decisive action on New Year’s Day. But it isn’t a rebellion among the field workers that is most needed. It is a complete agricultural revolution. We’ve sent people into space. All the way to the moon. We’re contemplating the first manned mission to Mars soon. And you are telling me we can’t improve the process of feeding our own people? Get real. We have a dream and we will fulfill it.”
Cindy and I launched Mozart on Fire and wrapped up the session.
We could have gone back to school. We were gone from Bishop Dwenger before lunch. The ‘right’ thing to do would have been to make our last two classes. Even half of orchestra.
I asked Emily to take us home. She laughed at me and told us to have fun. She had her first bus run to make for the pre-school and kindergarten kids in an hour and decided to head for the depot. No one else was at home. We took our instruments to the newly dubbed music room where the exercise equipment was under the garage. Then I grabbed Cindy’s hand and dragged her upstairs. She was giggling and tried to tickle me as we got to our bedroom but I turned the tables and pulled her shirt up over her head, trapping her hands above her. She could neither see nor use her hands as I dropped her on the bed, unfastened her bra and started sucking on her breasts.
She squirmed all over the bed as I pulled her panties down under her skirt and dove face-first between her legs. I kept my hands on her breasts, lightly pinching and rolling her nipples between my fingers as I lapped at the sweet honey running from her vagina. Trapping her arms with her shirt over her head had ramped up her speed to orgasm significantly. When I probed her ass with a finger she went off loud enough to be heard by our neighbors, half a mile away.
I pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and Cindy grabbed my head, pulling me in for a kiss. She had a wild look in her eyes and as we kissed, she kept whispering, “More. More. More.” I was happy to give her more, but I wanted her naked now. This tender young body I’d been so protective of when we first started playing together, was now capable of driving me to distraction. I wanted her. I wanted all of her. And Cindy wanted to be taken.
I stripped out of my clothes so that I stood beside the bed naked with my erection jutting out at her. Cindy rolled toward me and devoured my cock, sucking it deep into her mouth. She gagged a bit when I hit the back of her throat and then backed off and plunged on again, swallowing the head past her epiglottis and into her throat. I wanted to fill her stomach with my semen but more than that, I wanted to fuck her.
I pulled out and rolled her to her knees before plunging my cock into her pussy and beginning my drive toward my own orgasm. All the while Cindy kept chanting, “More. More. More.” As loudly as she screamed this time, I was certain she’d damaged her voice. I pulled her hips back until I was as deep as I could get and plugged my thumb into her ass. The screaming orgasm was renewed and as her pussy grasped at my cock, I began to flood her.
The stream abated and I fell forward on her, rolling to the side and bringing her with me so my cock didn’t slip out of her. She was gasping for breath but I wasn’t sure she was conscious. Not at first. As our breathing began to even out, she pulled away from me and rolled to push me on my back. My cock was still at about half-mast and she swallowed it again, this time cleaning our combined fluids as she let me come to full erection in her mouth. As soon as she decided I was fully erect, she swung her leg over me and faced me. She drove her pussy down over me, collecting vaginal fluid and semen on it, then moved forward and placed the head against her anus. I was worried there might not have been enough lubrication for this, but as she gradually sat back on me and absorbed my cock into her ass, that fear was for naught.
I’d never grow tired of seeing Cindy in this position. I don’t just mean with her ass impaled on my cock, but with her sitting upright on me as she rose and fell and began flinging her head and arms about. I managed to reach and stroke her tits between gyrations. I managed to avoid being slugged as she flung her arms about. And I managed to completely fill her rectum as she threw her arms in the air like a runner winning a race and cried out her biggest orgasm of the day.
I caught her in my arms as she fell forward, definitely out for the count this time. Her butt was clamped so firmly around my cock that even when I began to soften, she held me in her depth. I petted her and stroked her hair, her shoulders, her back, her butt. Somehow, playing a concert had turned into tremendous foreplay for both of us.
We were still in that position with the head of my cock still clasped in her anus when our mates started getting home from school and work.
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