What followed can not be told entirely, as it seemed endless. At some point, I found a couple of candles in the kitchen and lit them as the sun set and the room darkened. They mounted and rode me, I mounted and rode them. I took turns giving each ten strokes at a time, each mock-fighting with the other for an extra couple of strokes. We did sitting, standing, against the wall, oral chains, even a little light bondage with Star's wrists bound behind her, blindfolded and gagged, and me pounding at her pussy from behind.
I came twice more in Chelle's pussy, once in Star's ultra-tight cunt, and once in her mouth. We fucked on into the night, up toward midnight, when the candles sputtered and burned out, the three of us ending up on the huge Persian rug in the front room, an oriental intricacy in black and royal purple and gold, with only the desk lamp for light.
The mad orgy concluded in a chain, with Chelle eating Star's pussy while I pounded Chelle's ass with my dick. The chain fired in sequence, with me cumming in Chelle's ass in a frenzy of force. Chelle, feeling the last bursts of my juice in her ass, came next, screaming in climax with her mouth on her daughter's cunt. That seemed to set off Star, whose orgasm broke her into a thousand shrieking pieces.
We all collapsed in a heap. We actually had reached a point where we could fuck no more without rest, without salving for our worn and beaten and stretched and depleted sexual parts. Star lay spread and half-conscious.
"Oh god," she said weakly. "Oh Jack. Oh Mandy, Mandy, Amanda-mandy."
* * *
BAM! Right between the eyes, the big picture suddenly clear and laid out in front of me. Amanda! Mandy! How could I not have seen? Amanda! Mandy! Or Chelle? Or what?
Twenty-some years before. Mandy, Amanda-mandy, and I had had a hot, hot, six-month "relationship", afire with the kind of passion you only get at twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. We'd broken it up at the end of that time -- fairly bitterly, over slights and cheatings on both sides. We both moved on, and I'd never seen her again.
Until now. Looking at her, I saw my Amanda-mandy, matured into something new -- not so much older, but a woman now sweeter and wiser. It had taken me a couple of years to get over her then, such was the intensity of our coupling. I'd heard she'd had a baby and had gotten married, and after that she gradually faded from my memories.
I rose quickly, suddenly wide-awake. "Mandy?" I said to her. "Mandy, it's me, Joe."
She seemed just slightly less surprised than I. "Ahhh, Joe, Joey," She handled the name like a delicacy from the sea. "I'd really thought it might be you. It looked like you, the way you moved around on the roof today. I told Star I wanted to stop in and introduce myself to you.
"I could make out some old resemblances, but you said your name was Jack, and I used an aka also; for the night I would be Chelle, Shell, something perfect washed up by the waters. Maybe it was just to protect myself in case it . . . je ne sais quoi. But god, lover, it's great to see you, to hold you and feel you."
"I don't know what to say either, Mandy," I said. "Same with me. I saw in you someone I knew but didn't remember knowing. Maybe too much time and travel have passed by. . . .
