I’ll be honest about this. My mother and father like young women. They are in their forties, wealthy and very good looking. Mom can easily pass for no more than 35 and Dad has a lean, rangy look that is quite handsome. My mother was openly bi-sexual long before it became fashionable, and neither of them has ever felt compelled to hold the other back from sexual liaisons. They met when Dad was 19 and Mom was 21 and just married, but that ended soon, and the two of them established a household with a gorgeous dark-haired woman for the next two years. When that ended, each of the three of them explored their sexuality vigorously, Tina, the other woman, becoming almost exclusively lesbian, Dad bedding any number of very willing women, and Mom having affairs with both men and women as her heart led her.
I was born when Mom was 25, nine months after a romantic visit to Dad that rekindled their love but not an affair. Mom then returned to Tina, and spent eight years with her in relationship that I still don’t know all the details of, but which left her with rings in both of her nipples and through her clit hood.
Mom and Dad married on my15th birthday and have been very happy together since then. They have not taken a long-term lover, but there has been a glorious parade of sweet young things in and out of their bed for the past five years. I started college young, graduated early, and began my own career by the time I was 20, so I am a guest in their home when I visit, not a resident.
But I sometimes visit their bed too.
The first time I was with them both was the first time I was with my father. Mom and I had made love a few days before, at my instigation. It was blissful, beautiful and right. I love my mother, and she loves me, and the physical expression of that love was something we both wanted.
“What do you think if we included Buck in our play?” I asked Delcy as we lolled together in bed on the second day after we had first made love. I had begun calling her by her name in that moment, and I chose to use my father’s name in the same context: as a lover.
Delcy arched an eyebrow, and not just because I slipped my lips over her nipple and began to flick its ring immediately after asking.
“I’ve only been with one guy,” I told her, “and only once.” I wasn’t sure if she knew. She did know I had been with women. At one, anyway (though there were others). I was openly having an affair with her at the time. “I know Buck has to be a considerate and attentive lover, or you would not love him. I wonder if I might love him like that too.”
“Jenifer,” she said, lifting my lips from her breast, “I don’t know. That is a very big step. For you and me to be intimate is different.”
I sat back on my heels and looked at her. Delcy is six feet tall and wears her blonde hair long and flowing. When out in town, she draws admiring looks, as her figure is full and voluptuous without being plump. There, in bed, her full breasts were splayed across her chest beautifully, the white gold hoops in her nipples glinting softly in the afternoon light from the window. One long leg was draw up, wantonly exposing her pussy. There is no hair there, nor has there been for my entire life. Proud of her body, she has never been shy of showing it off, and I had seen her nude countless times before we became lovers. Now though, her lips with shiny with dew, the excitement I had brought to her as she and I touched. And nestled through her clit hood was a white gold ring that matched those in her nipples. I reached out my fingers and moved it up and down through her skin.
“Because he has a penis?” I asked?
Delcy’s back arched as she responded to my touch. “Honey,” she murmured. “Oh, honey!”