And here's what happened: Tess pulled me by my t-shirt to the bed, leaned toward me, was the first to kiss me. I taste smoke and beer on her tongue. Then she pulls me further with her finger (it isn't hard; I go where she takes me) until I half fall past her and nearly onto my cousin. Whose hands find my face and framing me, looks at me, eye to eye.
This is a dare.
This is not a dare.
Behind me, Tess's hand on my back, sliding downward, then upward under my shirt. Her skin on my skin.
"Is this okay, Tommy?" Liz asks me. "Are you okay with you and me?"
"Yeah," I tell her. "I think so, Lizzie. I am."
And touch her.
I touch her face, her neck, the breasts beneath her t-shirt. Her ribs, hip, the outside curve of her thigh. Through clothes, she is under them, her skin, her self just a piece of fabric away.
While Tess, our chaperone, eases my shirt up over my shoulders. I lift briefly my hands away from Liz to let it happen and then return to her. I lift her t-shirt up and over her upstretched arms. Her breasts, bra-bound, rise and fall with the motion.
Thought of water running across her breasts, her nipples in moonlight.
While Tess, behind us, complains, "Jesus, as always with you two, I guess I'll have to undress myself."
I turn to her as she does. The freckled paleness of her skin beneath her t-shirt. Her bra just a couple pieces of black cotton over the tiny things beneath. With her nubbbed head, she seems boyish, dykey, strangely lovely. Reaches behind herself, unclasps. As, on my other side, does my cousin.
And we three collapse, each half naked, onto the bed.
I am washed by them into a sea of flesh, of breasts. I am touched, aroused, nurtured by these two women, these Irish girls. We perform the ungainly ritual of pulling off pants. The raising of legs, bum, the kicking off of sneakers, trousers. I am the only one wearing socks; I pull them almost off with the opposite toes. Tess finishes for me and at last we are naked, I'm back to ridiculously hard in their presence. There's a rich patch of auburn between one girl's legs. And Lizzie, my sweet cousin Lizzie, is shaved as promised. She is made of folds of flesh, pink cleft open to my hand. I touch the inside of her, she is damp silk.
And her hand touching, finally, my cock. Fingers wrapping, moving. I rise up, fall back on the bed, my head nestled between Tess's bony thighs. She moves above me, settles down across my face, says, choke-voiced as my tongue finds her, "Well, if you don't mind, if you you're not - oh god - otherwise distracted."
While below, another pair of thighs engulfs me and Lizzie's hand guides me inside her body, pushes down on me until I am buried in her. Tess's taste floods my mouth, I find the soft rich edge of her vagina, the hard nub of her clitoris, I feel her tendons and the sharp bones at the bottom of her hips as she squeezes me; and Liz, pitching forward, supports herself with a hand splayed on my chest and rides, pushing, taking me deeper into her than I could ever think possible. I am surrounded by her, my bottom half is lost in her, while my face, mouth, lips, tongue, taste, lick, explore Tess as she grinds down onto me.
When we come, it's a cascade. First Liz, contracting inside, around me, squeezing and squeezing me, then Tess falling forward into Lizzie's arms, who holds her as she shudders above and onto me, lifting the silky-sour bottom of her off me because the sensation is too intense, then coming back for more. And me, while my tongue, compliant, finds Tess again and delivers her to a soft diminuendo of pleasures, listening distantly as Lizzie tells me that now, Tommy, now, now, now, exploding finally into my sweet crazy, vulnerable cousin, whom I've always crushed on, whose breasts dripped water in the moonlight. A fierce, deep, unseen pulsing out of me and into her. I push upward, fighting gravity, trying, it seems, to reach some core of her before it's over and I'm spent and we are all a mess of flesh and legs and tangled arms and I am soaked with both of them. Which is when Tess, our chaperone, our instigator, our guide, our lover, rolls to one side and, detaching from my face, crawls slowly across the twisted coverlet to fall beside us and put her hand, like a mother's benediction over Lizzie's heart and another on my cum soaked, cunt soaked detumescent dick. And whispers, breathless, up to the ceiling, to us all:
Well, kids,
sure, that was almost normal, wasn't it, though?
