Archive-name: Family/sibcor12.txt
Archive-author: Michael Kalen Smith
Archive-title: Siblings - Connie Returns - Extended Family - 12

[NOTE: From Chap 11 of the "Siblings" novel; set 1977; he's 22, she's 21.



                  EXTENDED FAMILY  ("CONNIE RETURNS")



    Alex and I stood at the big window by Gate 29A and watched as the
brightly painted Aloha Airlines jet was hauled the last few yards up to
the telescoping walkway.  I was nervous and it showed.  My sister found
this amusing; she kept patting me on the shoulder and cooing such
constructive advice as "It's okay, Michael, it won't be long now...."  I
might have found her playful condescension annoying except that I
recognized my own silliness.  We were only meeting Connie Liang's plane,
after all.
    Fourteen months it had been since my brief, serendipitous affair in
San Diego with that tiny beauty and I hadn't actually seen her in all
that time, though she sent me snapshots regularly.  Connie and I had kept
in touch, just as we had said we would.
    I had always been a lousy correspondent before this.  I preferred to
simply pick up a phone and talk with someone in real-time.  Telephone
rates Hawaii-to-California made that economically unfeasible, so I
learned to write letters.
    Connie's letters to me arrived every three or four weeks -- usually
with extra postage because of their bulk.  A single letter might sprawl
across several kinds of note paper and lined tablets, in several colors
of ink: She was writing whenever and wherever she had something she
wanted to say to me, which I took as a compliment.  And she communicated
as beautifully, and as idiosyncratically, on paper as she had in person,
going on at length about anything in which she had an interest.
    I heard her opinions on Hawaiian politics, the best way to build a
sand castle, the personalities of the people she worked with in her new
job with the Museum of the Pacific in Honolulu, and why I absolutely
*must* read a certain book or see a certain movie.  And I heard her
thoughtful ruminations about life and the people in it, including me.
    I also heard about her sex life in some detail ... partly, I
believed, because she knew it would turn me on.  As she had told me in
San Diego, her enjoyment of sex was moderate in quantity but always
enthusiastic in quality.
    Letters like that seem to demand that the recipient hold up his end
of the exchange, so I learned.  My first discovery was that my high
school experience in journalism didn't help much.  My first few attempts
at literate replies were pitiful reactions to things she had said, but
soon I was initiating discussions and venturing my own opinions.  And I
began following her example by jotting a few paragraphs at odd moments on
a note pad I carried in my briefcase.  The thickness of my letters to
Connie began to rival hers.
    And I, too, included candid accounts of my sexual experiences, both
the casual flirtations I enjoyed with girls I met on campus and the
deeply emotional and satisfying relationship I reveled in with Alex.  I
was careful not to divulge The Secret, though.
    Naturally, I had related my one-night affair with Connie to my
sister, who -- predictably -- was both pleased for me and curious about
this girl I found so fascinating.  After I asked for and received
Connie's permission, Alex read all her letters and was impressed both by
her imagination and intellect and by her obvious charms, as evidenced in
those snapshots.  For I should mention that the photos Connie sent were
often of the "private" variety, featuring her very own self in very
erotic poses.  (I wondered who had taken them for her.)
    Soon, Alex began including brief notes and then longer missives in
my letters to Connie, and Connie answered with evident delight.  I felt a
growing conviction that these two wonderful ladies would get along just
fine, if we could ever arrange another meeting.


    Then the opportunity suddenly arrived, in the form of an invitation
from the Humboldt Museum at the University of California to the Museum of
the Pacific, to send someone for two weeks of concentrated training in
some arcane specialty of Polynesian anthropology.  Connie wangled the
invite for herself, on the grounds that being part-Chinese, part-
Japanese, part-Oceanic, and part-European gave her special
qualifications.  Then she called us that evening to say she would be
arriving at Oakland International the next Friday.  Alex was sharing the
earpiece and listening in; she beat me to it by insisting that Connie
would stay with us -- and no arguments!


    Now, here we were, waiting for the lady to deplane.  I had missed
her, for reasons of friendship as well as lustful memories.  I prayed
fervently that she and Alex would hit it off as well as I hoped.  And I
was nervous about this new turning point in my relationship with Connie. 
It *had* been fourteen months, all our correspondence notwithstanding,
and this wasn't an unexpected interlude in San Diego; I doubted we could
simply pick up where we had left off.
    Nor did I *really* know how my sister would react when she saw how
Connie so obviously affected me.  Alex knew I loved her, no doubt about
that.  And we both had had our flings over the years (including Alex's
"crisis of faith" in our relationship during her freshman year in
college).  But we were older now and this thing with Connie might be
different.  Or maybe not -- but I was still nervous.
    I spotted Connie walking along behind the velvet rope from the
passageway; she was scanning the crowd that was waiting to greet the
passengers but she hadn't seen me yet; being under five feet in height
has some disadvantages.  She was wearing tight, bright red shorts, a
sleeveless white cotton shirt, and white woven leather sandals with
heels.  All the colors contrasted nicely with her glowing sandalwood
complexion.  Her gleaming black hair swirled as she looked about; she had
let it grow much longer than it had been in her last photo, and she
looked younger than Alex though she was actually almost two years older
than me.  Alex saw her, too, and squeezed my hand.
    "Michael!  She's absolutely beautiful!" my sister whispered.  The
admiration in her voice didn't ease my edginess, though.
    Then I raised my hand and waved and Connie saw me.  Her eyes lit up
and her smile flashed as she wove her way through the crowd.  I was a
little hesitant in moving forward to meet her, and she saw it and slowed
to a stop.  She raised those expressive eyebrows in a question that I
wasn't sure I could answer.  Alex saved me by walloping me on the arm in
exasperation.
    "Michael?  Go and *kiss* her, you idiot!  She'll think you don't
want her!"
    That got us a few odd looks from bystanders but it broke through my
uncertainty.  I closed the distance between us and swept little Connie up
in my arms and swung her around, like in the movies.  She hung onto my
neck and laughed that tinkly laugh I remembered so well.  When I set her
down she kissed me so vigorously I heard a ringing in my ears.  Only now
was I realizing just how *much* I had missed her.
    When we came out of our clinch, Alex was standing close to both of
us, grinning ear to ear.  She hooked her arms through mine and Connie's
and we found ourselves in a warm three-way hug.  Then Alex put her arms
around our so-welcome visitor, and squeezed, and bent to whisper
something in her ear, I couldn't hear what.  Connie beamed and whispered
something back.  Obviously, I wasn't going to be let in on this one.  But
my relief was profound. 

                             *  *  *  *  *

    When we got back to our "lost" brownstone on the margin of the
Berkeley hills, I lugged Connie's bags up the steps while Alex gave her
the standard tour, upstairs and down -- together with a mock-stern
warning that she would not tolerate our guest thinking of this place as
anything less than her own home for as long as she wished.  Watching them
interact so easily, I knew for certain that any fears I had had of Connie
complicating the relationship between my sister and myself were
groundless.
    Neither Alex nor I had ever had more than a very few close friends
-- our preference as well as a practical necessity -- but the two of them
were already behaving as if they had known each other all their lives. 
Maybe that was inevitable; anyone about whom I felt so strongly almost
had to rank highly with Alex, as well.  Our minds functioned that
closely.
    Our bed was full-size, elderly but serviceable, with wooden posts at
the corners.  My first thought had been to let the girls share it while I
unfolded the double-width sofa/futon downstairs in the living room.
    Connie flatly refused the offer, pointing out that she was part-
Japanese, after all, and smaller, and probably in better physical shape
than I was.  She would take the futon and we would keep our own bed.  And
if this was really "her own home," then she would sleep where she
pleased, so there.  I threw up my hands in surrender; I already knew that
trying to argue with a decision she had made was pointless.
    It was only about nine in the evening, but Connie's internal clock
insisted she had been up several hours longer than that.  We had planned
on a light supper and early to bed, to let her adjust.  But after supper,
the girls became so engrossed in their first face-to-face conversation in
the bedroom that after an hour or so I finally gave it up and unfolded
the futon for myself.  I hadn't worn pajamas in years, so I just stripped
down, flung a spare sheet over my body, and dozed off within minutes.
    I was awakened in the dark by the presence of a warm body cuddling
up to mine and the feathery touch of long fingernails drifting across my
cheek.  It was Connie, wearing a very short, bright yellow nightshirt --
obviously intended for a much younger girl, since it had a portrait of
Bullwinkle on the front.
    I looked over at her and registered the soft smile she gave me. 
Then it dawned on me that Alex must still be in the bedroom, asleep. 
This wouldn't do.  As much as I might desire Connie, I wouldn't do
anything behind my sister's back.  I took her hand and opened my mouth to
explain, but she laid a finger across my lips.
    "I know what you're thinking, Michael, but you don't have to worry,"
she whispered.  "Alex suggested I come in and claim my futon ...
actually, she ordered me to!  I understand now why you love her so much. 
You were worried that I might come between the two of you, even without
meaning to, weren't you?"  She saw the embarrassed admission in my eyes.
    "You shouldn't have worried, you know.  Michael, you *must* know how
much she loves *you* -- it's in her eyes and her voice every time she
mentions your name.  Didn't you know that?  Maybe it just takes an
'outsider' to notice."  She smiled again.
    "And she knew you'd react like this!  She said to tell you to
remember 'the station wagon at the drive-in' ... whatever that means. 
But she knows how much San Diego meant to both of us and she wants us to
get reacquainted, she really does.  I don't understand why you haven't
married that girl, Michael!"
    I couldn't answer that one, not truthfully, so I kissed her instead. 
It took a long time to finish and it still wasn't long enough.  Then
Connie sat up and pulled the shirt off over her head.  Her small, perfect
breasts were as lovely as I remembered, her belly still concave, her skin
still smooth and soft with flat athletic muscles rippling beneath.
    She pulled the sheet off me and lay down again and I turned onto my
side to face her, letting the palm of my hand glide down to her waist,
over the gentle swell of her hip, and along her perfect thigh.  She moved
even closer to me, lying on my arm, nuzzling her head under my chin and
raking those nails lightly across my chest.  When I moved my hand around
to cup one buttock, she shivered and made a little sound in her throat. 
Her hands glided down my body and found my cock, already half-erect and
twitching.  She curled one hand around the shaft, squeezing a little, and
cupped my balls with the other.
    Strangely, I wanted only to prolong this tender foreplay.  Neither
of us was going anywhere for awhile and I felt entirely at peace.  If it
was possible to love another woman even half as much as I loved my
sister, and at the same time, then Connie was the object of that love.
    I was sure now that Alex must have some inkling of how my affection
for this little Aphrodite had grown during the past year, and that she
was pleased, rather than threatened by it.  Connie would never do
anything to disturb what Alex and I had; I was now quite certain of that.
    But it still felt a little strange, perhaps because I loved Alex so
deeply both as a woman and as my sister.  Connie wasn't someone I had
grown up with; I had met her fully matured, sexually and intellectually,
and I was still discovering marvelous things about her.  If ever it came
to a choice between the two of them, Alexandra was the only contender ...
but if there was any fairness in the world at all, that would never
happen.
    After awhile, my trapped hand wrapped itself in that long, thick
hair as my other fingers brushed through the small, silky triangle above
her cunt.  She bent her knee to give me access and rubbed the head of my
penis slowly across her breastbone.  Her nipples had hardened and were
drilling into my ribs.
    I eased one finger into her cleft and down the shaft of her
clitoris, finally plucking the center of her like a guitar string.  She
jerked a little and gasped, and then laughed silently into my throat. 
Her thumb rubbed across the opening in my cock, in retaliation.
    I removed my hand and eased her onto her back, and she spread her
legs for me and stared deep into my eyes.  I stared back, nose to nose,
and marveled at what I saw there.  I painted her lips with my tongue and
kissed her again as I gradually entered her.
    We took our time, as we had with our foreplay, moving slowly with
each other, shifting position slightly to create the maximum friction. 
Her knees flexed and moved up and down the sides of my ribs while her
hands wandered across my back.  I kissed her long eyelashes and her
cheekbones and the tip of her nose ... and she mimicked every move.
    Then she gradually increased the tempo of our lovemaking, locking
her ankles high on my back and urging me to thrust as deeply into her as
I could.  Several times, I could feel my climax building and I
deliberately slowed my pace just enough to prolong the pleasure.  I could
tell by the changes in her breathing that Connie was also holding herself
back at each plateau.  We were both sweating freely now, but I felt like
I could continue this exquisite experience forever.
    Finally, after what must have been thirty minutes of continual
motion, I could stand it no longer and I began thrusting more rapidly. 
Connie hugged herself to me and bent her head back, hair sprawling above
her face.  Neither of us made much sound, not tonight; it simply wasn't
needed.
    And when I jerked hard against her several times and came in a
blinding rush, she strained against me so that I felt the tremors
rippling through her body.  We froze in position for perhaps ten seconds,
holding our breaths, savoring the perfection of the moment.
    Then, finally, I eased my weight down, trying not to smother her. 
She let her knees splay to the sides as she gulped deep breaths.  Her
hands moved to my head and her fingers combed shakily through my hair. 
My cock was still buried in her and neither of us was in a hurry to
remove it.  Her lower body jerked in reaction to my post-orgasmic spasms
and she laughed quietly.
    "Michael," she whispered huskily, "do you remember what I said
before about love?  How I was kind of afraid of it?"  I looked down at
her as she licked her lips in hesitation.
    "Maybe I shouldn't say this -- maybe I have no right to, with Alex
in the other room -- but I can't help it anymore.  I think I love you.  I
mean, I love what we have together.  I guess that includes both of you,
doesn't it?  I wouldn't have thought I could share a guy with another
woman and be glad of it, but I think that's what I really mean.  Oh, I
don't really know *what* I mean...."
    She seemed genuinely puzzled and I had no idea what to say.  Could I
possibly be this lucky?  Or was it selfishness?  Jesus.  What I felt for
Connie was stronger than ever, and not just because my cock was still
inside her.  Maybe what I felt was love, too.  But it was a different
sort of love than my deep devotion to Alex.  But that didn't make my
feelings for Connie any less strong.  But, but, but....
    I carefully withdrew from her and caressed her face and smoothed her
hair.  "Connie, if it's really possible to love more than one person at a
time -- *really* love -- then I think I'm in love with you, too.  I don't
know.  I know that the feelings I have for you are stronger than I've
ever felt for anyone except my -- except Alex."  My near slip decided me:
I had to tell her what she was getting herself into.
    "There's something you have to know, Connie, something about Alex
and me that no one else has ever known...."  I swallowed hard.  All my
carefully developed reflexes fought against divulging what I had to say. 
But Connie smiled that warm smile and again put her finger to my lips.
    "I think I know what you're leading up to.  When I called to tell
you about this trip, I'm afraid I discovered I had misplaced your phone
number.  But I had your address, from your letters.  So I called
Information and gave them the last name and the street address -- and the
operator said he had *two* listings for that name at that address,
"Michael" and "Alexandra," and which did I want?  Then he corrected
himself and said it was actually the same phone number, so it didn't
matter."  She gave me a searching look.
    "I could only think of two explanations.  One was that you were
married and hadn't told me.  But I knew you too well, by then, to think
you'd ever cheat on me, much less on your wife.  And you said once that
you'd known her 'all your life'.  The other explanation...."  Then she
paused, wondering again if she was correct in her conclusion, not wanting
to shock me if she was wrong.  I saved her the worry.
    "You're right, Connie: Alex and I are brother and sister.  It's The
Secret."  I pronounced the capital letters.  "It's been very hard for us
the past ten years, getting used to the idea of being in love and keeping
everyone else unaware of it."  I sighed, relieved that she knew.  "Does
the fact that you figured it out and you're here anyway mean you aren't,
uh, revolted...?"
    "You forget, I'm an anthropologist by profession.  I imagine I can
accept almost any manifestation of love that two people can find for
themselves.  Look at me, here with you!  No, I'm not 'revolted'.  I'm
even a little surprised to find that I'm not particularly bothered by it. 
Theory and practice can be very different."  This conversation was
becoming oddly scholarly, considering the circumstances.
    "The two of you have never been able to tell anyone about your
feelings for each other, have you?  When we all feel more comfortable --
when you two are comfortable about my knowing your secret, I mean --
would you, if you want to, would you tell me about it?"  She touched my
cheek and seemed amazed at the tears she found there.

                             *  *  *  *  *

    We lay for awhile longer in our warm embrace but neither of us was
ready to sleep, not now.  Eventually, I climbed to my feet and lifted
Connie to hers.  She clung to me and I stroked her and hugged her yet
again.
    "We have to talk, don't we?" she said somberly.  "All three of us, I
mean."
    "Yep.  And we should do it now.  Somehow, I doubt that Alex is
asleep."
    We walked into the bedroom still naked, arms around each other.  As
I expected, Alex was sprawled on her back, hands tucked behind her pillow
and eyes lazily half-open.  The sheet came only to her waist and her
naked breasts jiggled in the way I loved as she scooted up into a sitting
position.  Both of us must have appeared apprehensive because Alex gave
us a fond smile and held out her arms.
    We climbed onto the bed on either side of her and she pushed the
cover down so all of us could be comfortably naked together.  My sister
looked uncommonly pleased with herself, as if she had personally
engineered my reunion with Connie.  Then she took the other girl's hands
and interlaced their fingers.  It was an affectionate gesture of
acceptance and I began to relax.  This was going to work.
    Alex looked Connie up and down, taking in her smooth, trim diver's
body, and the lustrous black hair floating around her shoulders, and her
suddenly shy smile.
    "Connie, when I first saw you at the airport, I told my brother you
were absolutely beautiful -- my exact words -- and I understood why he
was so taken with you."  Connie and I exchanged glances at the words "my
brother" and Alex didn't miss that, either.  Her smile became even warmer
and softer.
    "Yeah, I knew he'd tell you: He had to.  I know how his mind works
and he's not capable of lying to someone he really cares about."  Her
face became more solemn.  "Do you love him?"
    Connie studied my sister's face and nodded slowly, and swallowed.
    Alex was blinking tears and at first I didn't understand.  Then she
squeezed Connie's hands, and gulped, and said "Thank you!  I'm so glad!" 
She quickly pulled the smaller girl to her and hugged her tightly as they
overbalanced back against the pillow.  Connie was sobbing quietly with
happiness and relief.  I knew my face was trembling with the pent-up
emotion of the moment as I sat there cross-legged and gazed at the only
two people in the world whom I cared about.
    We spent the rest of that first night sandwiched together on the bed
and we all seemed to take turns being in the middle.  Once, when I rose
to half-wakefulness, I found Connie stretched out along Alex's other
side, her leg cast loosely over my sister's thigh; their hair was a
tangled auburn-and-black puddle spread across the pillow.  My arm was
flung across Alex's midriff, my fingers brushing Connie's hip.
    I knew I didn't deserve to be as happy as I was, and I knew there
would be problems if we really did undertake to establish a three-way
partnership.  I knew I would never lose Alex ... and I hoped I wouldn't
lose Connie.  Our public deception would become more complicated, even
after Connie returned to Honolulu.  But we could deal with all that as
the need arose.  I stroked Connie's flank once, lightly, so as not to
waken her, and drifted back to sleep.
    We slept in the next morning, which was Saturday, and when we
finally began to stir I found myself in the middle of the sandwich.  I
turned my head and my nose brushed Alex's cheek.  I nuzzled her ear and
spoke as quietly as I could.
    "Sweetheart, you are, without exception, the most wonderful woman in
the history of the world."  I meant it, too.  "I'm still not quite sure
what happened last night -- but I know you're the key to it.  Thank
you...."
    I turned her face with one fingertip and kissed her, long and slow. 
I thought back over all the years we had struggled together to nurture
this love between us and I tried to communicate those memories and my
love through my lips to hers.  We not only understood each other's
desires, we accepted and shared them.  Alex seemed to melt into my body. 
How could two people, even siblings and lovers, be any closer?
    My sister opened her eyes and raised her head just enough to peer
across my body.  She smothered a laugh and pointed with her chin.  I
turned to see what was so funny.  Connie lay on her back with her neck
arched, her eyes screwed tightly shut, and her lips puckered in a
cartoon-kiss.
    "Hey," I said softly as I hugged her against me.  "We don't do that
here."
    She kept the pose but opened one eye and batted her lashes at me. 
"Nue?" she inquired brightly through pursed lips.
    "No.  We do this."  I buried my free hand in her hair and descended
on that full, inviting mouth, kissing her as thoroughly as I had Alex. 
She, too, seemed to melt against me, returning the kiss with tender
single-mindedness.  And I felt my sister's long fingers softly caressing
my shoulders and neck.  Alex was sending me a message I understood very
well: This is the way it should be, she was saying.  Accept it and don't
worry about the future.
    When the lengthy mutual surrender between myself and this miniature
goddess with the ancient eyes finally reached a satisfactory conclusion
(we had to come up for air), both girls sat up spontaneously and reached
across me to each other.  Slender hands moved over new territory,
touching hair and cheeks and collarbones.  Then their lips joined, each
woman wanting and needing to communicate her emotions directly.  They
leaned closer so that their nipples brushed together.
    Their kiss was tender and beautiful and, watching them silently, I
discovered a new array of emotions I'd never felt before.  They were so
different in so many ways and I wondered if I was the bridge between
them.  Each was undeniably heterosexual, yet the closeness of their
bodies and the fusion of their lips and the writhing of their tongues
seemed obvious and entirely natural.  Each girl spread her hands across
the other's breasts, each ran her fingers through the other's hair, and
the kiss went on and on.
    I understood that this was a first for both of them -- and that what
they were sharing didn't extend to other women.  It was unique between
themselves ... and I was a part of it, too.  Finally, slowly, they parted
and settled back on folded knees, blinking at each other in amazement,
and smiling, and weeping silently.  They held tight to each other's hands
across me and I was careful not to interrupt the moment.
    "Michael and I have always had each other," Alex began slowly.  "But
there's never been anyone else we could really share ourselves with. 
We've become like one person over the years, Connie.  And it was so
lonely, sometimes, being shut out of the world by ourselves.  But now..." 
She couldn't finish so I completed her thought -- which, of course, was
also mine.
    "But now there's you, Connie."  I gently stroked her thigh, and
Alex's.  "Now there's two of us ... or three, however you want to look at
it."  Alex swallowed and nodded agreement.  "You're like the third leg of
a tripod, Connie -- giving us a stability we never knew we needed.  Until
now.  And we *both* love you for it."  My mind was leading me down a new
pathway even as I spoke.
    "Remember, in San Diego, you said you were distrustful of
commitments because you weren't sure if you could love only one person? 
Now you don't have to be afraid.  Love us both and let us both love you
-- that's twice as much love as any 'normal' person is likely to find."
    Both of them were watching me and listening, and the bed was
becoming damp with tears.  I sat up, cross-legged, and put one arm around
each girl's shoulders.  They did the same, interlocking all three of us
in an embrace of acceptance and understanding.  Three heads touching,
three pairs of hands clutching, three bodies, each leaning against the
others -- one person in three forms.  It was what we all desired, now
that we began to comprehend what had happened.  We might be physically
separated but never again would Alex, Connie, or I ever be alone.

                             *  *  *  *  *

    The next two weeks were glorious.  I taught my two sections of
freshman American history and worked on my dissertation.  Alex went off
to her job at the PR firm and struggled to get new copywriters to produce
coherent English.  And Connie soaked up the intricacies of Polynesian
anthropology at the university museum.  And then we came home and
immersed ourselves in each other.  Alex and I had found a third dimension
in our lovemaking, and Connie had twice as much exploring to do.
    That first week, we were hesitant and careful, edging our ways into
this new arrangement.  Connie would hover above me from behind,
sheltering me with her shining, raven-black curtain of hair, and offering
her nipples to my lips so I could suck them into quivering rigidity --
and at the same time, Alex would crouch astride my cock and fuck herself
into a panting sweat.  Each of them would watch the other's actions and
their arousal would redouble.
    Then Connie would lie on her back, knees raised behind her elbows,
while my cock plunged into her marvelously tight cunt -- and Alex would
keep both her middle fingers busy teasing our assholes in counterpoint. 
The plethora of sensations was astonishing.
    We let the urge take us as it would.  More than once I was roused
(and aroused) in the middle of the night by a warm, wet mouth fastened on
the head of my penis.  It might last only a few minutes and then we'd be
asleep again -- but, ah!  What dreams!
    Connie was a natural tease, in an entirely playful and extremely
erotic way.  She also liked a little social danger with her sex, as I
discovered later that week.


    Thursday was the off-day at the museum and she had come over to meet
me in front of Bancroft Hall so I could walk her on a tour around the
campus.  It had rained earlier so I wasn't surprised when she showed up
in a mid-thigh red oilskin slicker, buttoned up over tight jeans and
heels too high to be practical.  Being so small, though, she'd had years
of experience navigating in high heels, and they certainly suited her.
    As we walked, I noticed male heads turning as we passed, students
and faculty both.  Connie was always aware of her effect on men and took
great delight in it.  In this case, since the lady was with me, I very
much enjoyed showing her off.
    When we passed a small grove of redwoods, Connie led me beneath them
and stood with her head tilted back, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at their size. 
Then she took me behind the trees, out of sight of the sidewalk, and
coaxed my head down for a kiss.  That was fine with me, and I slipped an
arm around her and ran my hand over her ass.  The cleft between her
cheeks was very obvious to the touch -- and I suddenly realized I hadn't
felt any pockets or belt loops.
    Connie giggled into my mouth and took my hand in hers and guided it
between the snaps on the front of her slicker.  There was no shirt and no
jeans in there, only Connie.  I stepped back in surprise and she demurely
raised one side of the raincoat to show me where her homemade denim
leggings stopped, at the tops of her thighs.  Just as well I hadn't
offered to hold her coat!
    We continued our stroll a bit longer, but the vision of Connie's
gloriously naked body moving under that oilskin made me incredibly horny. 
Finally, we stopped and sat on a bench a few yards off the path.  Connie
put her hands in her coat pockets ... but they were in almost to her
elbows before it dawned on me that the pockets must be bottomless.  I saw
movement under the oilskin in her lap, one hand reappeared, and a moist
fingertip left an aromatic spot under my nose.
    "Any inspirations?" she asked, and the smoke began to drift from
beneath her lashes.  The front of my slacks were in danger of a puncture. 
I put my left arm around her shoulders, very innocent to any passers-by,
and slid my right hand into the vacated coat pocket.  Her fingers met
mine and led them down between her thighs.  She scooted her ass forward
on the bench a few inches and spread her knees as much as she dared. 
Then, as she spread her labia, I inserted a finger or two and went slowly
to work on her cunt.
    The challenge, of course, was that she absolutely could not lose
control -- but it was a close thing.  I flicked my fingertip against her
swollen clit and she gave a tiny jerk and bit her lower lip.  Her gaze
never left mine, and as I moved my finger up and down, and in and out,
and 'round and about, her eyes became all pupil.  When I felt her pulse
quicken and heard her breathing accelerate, I fastened my mouth to hers
and sucked as strongly as I could on her tongue.  Her reaction was the
same as it had been in the hotel pool in San Diego.  She moaned and
clutched my sleeve and her cunt muscles spasmed.  Even her long tongue
vibrated.  In a sense, she came in my mouth.
    We had to sit a few minutes longer while she collected herself.  And
when we finally headed back to the car, I had to hold my briefcase
awkwardly in front of me, to hide the stain on the front of my trousers.


    So far, all our three-way sex had actually been two-way with a
sidecar.  That Friday evening -- the one-week anniversary of our darling
Connie's arrival -- the action began to even up.
    We discussed (very briefly!) what we should do with Saturday, the
first opportunity we'd had for all three of us to be together all day. 
The unanimous vote was that we would not leave the apartment, even to
eat; we would put the answering machine on automatic pick-up; we wouldn't
even bother with clothing for the day, unless it served an erotic
purpose; and, for at least 24 hours, we would indulge ourselves and each
other until we collapsed from sexual exhaustion.  Saturday would be
reserved for love, sex,... and experimentation.  We slept that night all
in a heap on the bed, like puppies.  Caresses and kisses were exchanged,
but they were relaxed and undemanding.

                             *  *  *  *  *

    Alex and I had been so utterly comfortable in each other's constant
presence for so long, we no longer consciously thought about it.  But
Connie's welcome addition to our private world required deeply-rooted
psychological realignments.  And we tried to go about it systematically.
    Connie's first fascinated questions about our relationship were
still hesitant.  She didn't want to embarrass us or overstep some unknown
boundary.  We managed gradually to convince her that were NO boundaries
-- not for her.
    We volunteered experiences of joy and of pain that we would never
have confided to anyone else, even if we had been an "ordinary" couple. 
We recounted the fears of our earliest adolescent relationship, when we
didn't understand what was happening to us.  We remembered our first,
tentative sexual encounters, and we held hands and got sentimental as we
described for Connie our discovery that we were in love.  We laughed
about our high school escapades and our experiences with others, now
fondly remembered, and how we had often sat up late to compare those
experiences.
    Alex somberly told of the few dates gone wrong, by which she'd had
to learn not to trust everyone as much as she trusted her brother.  And I
looked away when my sister told Connie about the time I had rescued her
from a brutal date and had come frighteningly close to committing murder
in my rage at her physical mistreatment.  I still felt queasy when I
remembered her bruises.
    Some of Connie's questions had an academic tinge.  Quite apart from
her new emotional involvement, she was trying hard to understand the
foundations and everyday dynamics of our two-body mutual orbit.  And that
led us to try to explain ideas and feelings we had simply accepted
before.
    This whole process, this unveiling of our most private selves to
another, developed a therapeutic component we hadn't realized we needed
-- and we were grateful.  And Connie, though surprised, amused,
sympathetic, indignant on our behalf, and professional, by turns, was
never judgmental.
    All this was spread through our long evening hours together during
that first week, and by Friday Connie knew more about the two of us than
any "outsider" ever had, including our late parents.  Alex and I also
knew, without having to ask, that Connie would unburden herself to us, as
well, when she thought herself ready.  But not tomorrow; Saturday was to
be time-out for fun and games.


    There was very little clothing to put in the wash by Saturday night
-- mostly bed sheets.  Connie wore a short woollen pullover when she got
chilly, which kept her upper body warm enough but also emphasized her
firm, bare ass and her small, triangular pubic patch.  Alex achieved the
same effect with a cropped tee-shirt.  Being a warm-blooded creature, I
simply remained naked and enjoyed the peek-a-boo scenery ... when I
wasn't occupied in rearranging it.
    We had fruit for breakfast,... with extra juice.  We found that
Alex's pussy would accommodate twelve grapes, while Connie could hold
only nine.  Tasty, too.  And watching a peeled banana moving slowly in
and out of Connie's cunt did wonders for my appetite.  But I had to take
the girls' word for it that a cock tasted better with smooth peanut
butter than with chunky.  We knew such games were pretty silly -- but
what did we care?  Anyway, it was at that point that we reached a level
of genuine three-way participation.
    I lay sprawled on the floor with my head cushioned in Connie's lap
while Alex licked the last of the peanut butter from my cock.  I loved
the satiny feel of Connie's skin.  I wondered if it was an "Asian" thing. 
Alex's thighs were also soft and smoothly muscular, and I had always
loved stroking and kissing them, but the texture was somehow different.
    I turned my head and kissed Connie's flat belly.  Her fingers, which
had been exploring my eyebrows, moved to touch my lips; I kissed them,
too.  Having begun, I decided to kiss her all over.
    Curling my arm back around her hips, I shifted onto my side so my
tongue could reach toward the secret part of her.  I explored her short
pubic hair with my mouth; like the cascades that framed her face, it was
absolutely black, and absolutely straight, and absolutely beautiful.  It
felt so soft under my lips.  Connie wrapped an arm protectively around my
head and sighed.
    Alex had paused in her ministrations when I moved my hips.  Now she
pushed my knee up out of her way, moved my balls forward with her nose,
and buried her face in my crotch, licking and nibbling that nameless
region between my genitals and my anus.  Which led me, in turn, to urge
Connie over onto her side so I could crawl face-first up into her pussy. 
The scent of sex she was already beginning to produce was delicious. 
(I've never understood why women wear perfume for the presumed benefit of
their men when a woman's natural aroma can be so intoxicating.)
    I carefully traced the folds of her cunt lips with my tongue and
watched as the tiny muscles around them flickered.  She had hooked an
elbow behind her knee to give me full access to her -- no effort at all
for someone as trim and athletic as she was.
    Then Connie's pelvis jiggled about and Alex simultaneously paused in
her nibbling.  I peered out to see what was happening and found the three
links of our bodies closing into an unbroken chain.  Connie was moving up
Alex's legs practically hand over hand and my sister was doing her best
to help.  In a moment, all three of us lay in a much closer circle, each
with one knee propped in the air and a head burrowing eagerly between a
twitching pair of thighs.
    Alex moaned softly and stretched as Connie's pointed tongue entered
her cunt; it had been several years, I thought, since any tongue but mine
had explored that passage.  My sister began to suck at my balls, which
was a sensation always guaranteed to stiffen every hair and organ on my
body.  I gently pushed back the cocoa-tinted sheath at the peak of
Connie's cunt and sucked noisily at her protruding clitoris.  The energy
we were creating ran round and round the circle, gaining amperage with
each lap.
    My hands were squeezing and caressing her firm little bottom and I
remembered something else from our night in San Diego.  I left her clit
(which brought a small, muffled protest) and blazed a trail with the flat
of my tongue back toward the brown pucker that encircled her asshole.  A
few seconds later, my sister's tongue followed the same route back
between my legs to the edge of my rectum.  It couldn't be a coincidence:
I was sure Connie's tongue was rimming Alex's hole as well.
    Around the ring of corrugated muscle I went, zeroing in on my
target.  This was an oral variation Alex and I seldom got around to, and
the sensation was not only unusual but sublimely erotic.
    We were synchronized, now, like torpedo bombers over a hidden
submarine.  Our tongues moved faster and faster and then, all at the same
moment, plunged into the depths beyond the rim.  My cock was rigid and
straining but I was already beyond the point of mere orgasm.  The strong
thrust of my sister's tongue into my ass seemed blurrily to be the result
of my own assault on Connie.  I hoped the girls were experiencing
something similar.
    Instead of just darting in and out of that beautiful opening, I
continued to probe with my tongue as deeply as I could, which surprised
me in a dim sort of way.  This sort of thing was right on the esthetic
edge of what I would ordinarily be willing to do, but I was aware only of
the intense sexual pleasure I was giving Connie and receiving from Alex,
and I didn't want it to end yet.  Alex's tongue continued to writhe madly
in my ass, too, so I assumed Connie was doing the same service for her. 
The spark of electricity jumped from each of us to the next, tripling our
shared ecstasy.
    When we finally collapsed, I hugged Connie's hips tightly and kissed
the vee just below her breastbone.  Alex held my aching penis and rubbed
it against her face until my climax broke through and fountained semen
across her flushed breasts.  And I could see Connie's hands sliding
shakily up and down my sister's thighs.  It was a long time before any of
us was able to change position.  Or wanted to.

                             *  *  *  *  *

    After we recovered and were able to stand upright without
assistance, I excused myself for a bathroom break.  My lower body was in
turmoil and I ended up hunkered on the can for half an hour.  When I
emerged, feeling several pounds lighter but much steadier, I followed the
sound of low feminine voices to the kitchen.  It didn't sound like an
ordinary conversation as I peered through the crack between the door and
the frame before entering; I didn't want to interrupt anything
unnecessarily.
    Alex was sitting on one of the straight, ladder-back wooden kitchen
chairs, feet flat on the floor, knees spread.  Connie sat astride her lap
facing her, legs dangling behind the chair.  Her arms were draped loosely
about my sister's neck while Alex's hands stroked her hips.  Their voices
had dropped to a murmuring chord and I wasn't sure whether they were
speaking actual words or only exchanging the meaningless cooing sounds
lovers make.
    Connie leaned slowly forward and licked lightly at Alex's upturned
face, finally fastening on her mouth.  My sister made long stroking
passes with her hands, moving from the smaller girl's shoulderblades to
the out-thrust curve of her perfect ass.  I simply stood and watched,
spellbound.  They were beautiful, very sensual women, and I had an
intensely personal interest in both of them.  Watching them make slow
love, I felt like a privileged audience of one rather than a peeper.
    I considered joining them but quickly decided against it.  I'd had
Alex's caring and love all to myself most of my life, and Connie and I
had shared that memorable night in San Diego without my sister's
presence.  It was only fair that they have as much time together as they
needed, just for themselves.
    Their kiss ended very gradually as Connie hooked her heels on the
chair rungs and lifted herself up until her shimmering breasts were level
with Alex's eager mouth.  My sister cupped those shallow globes in her
hands and flicked her tongue around first one nipple and then the other. 
Then she picked one as her favorite and began milking it with her lips.
    Watching, I felt a "ghost" tingle in my own functionless nipples;
Alex had given me that same treatment on occasion and I knew quite well
the mini-spasms it caused.  Multiply that by all the nerve endings in a
woman's breasts, I thought, and it was a wonder Connie wasn't creaming
all over Alex's stomach.
    Actually, Connie had arched her neck back and was pulling Alex's
face against her body with both hands.  She was also balanced on the
chair rungs with her knees half-bent; her legs trembled visibly and her
ass muscles clenched and moved with the tension.
    Eventually, even Connie's physical stamina gave out and she settled
with a plop on Alex's thighs.  Her nipples, which I had *never* seen in a
fully relaxed state, seemed to have extended another half-inch.  The two
girls embraced feverishly, hands moving everywhere, kissing whatever they
could reach.  Even Connie's little-girl toes were wiggling and I thought
I heard her whisper "Oh, God...!"
    My benign voyeurism had pumped up my cock as stiff as a post.  I
didn't want to waste such a rousing hard-on by masturbating but I
couldn't stand my present condition much longer.  I was on the point of
opening the kitchen door and fastening myself to the first female who
came within reach, when the two girls hopped up from the chair and
hurried up the back stairs toward the bedroom, hand in hand.
    I stepped into the vacant kitchen and inhaled the estrogen fog; the
room smelled like a cathouse, pheromones all over the place.  I could no
more resist following my two lovelies up to the bedroom than I could
resist breathing.
    When I got there, Alex was already on her back on the bed with
Connie in a '69' position above her.  My sister could barely reach the
smaller girl's crotch, but by propping up her head on both pillows she
had managed it.  Her fingers were spreading Connie's soft folds.  It was
difficult to see what Connie's lowered head was doing, behind that veil
of hair.
    I settled as quietly as I could in the old overstuffed chair in the
corner.  At least I didn't have any clothing to get rid of.  Alex saw the
movement from the corner of her eye and smiled in my direction.  We
locked smokey gazes and she raised an inquiring eyebrow.  Did I want to
join in?  I blew her a little kiss and shook my head.  I would watch for
awhile and that was all right with her, too.  My cock was still stiff and
I took a grip on it where my sister could see.  She grinned and returned
her attentions to her present partner.
    Connie's hands were busy now, and I guessed she was parting the
folds of flesh, clearing the way to her own target.  Her head moved lower
and Alex's toes curled.  Not to be left behind, Alex lifted her head a
bit and began plowing her tongue up and down the length of Connie's
gleaming cunt.  Connie pushed her crotch as low and as far back as she
could without losing mouth contact herself.  In seconds, both women
sounded like they were slurping hot cocoa, sucking and licking and
moaning, as clouds of steam seemed to rise from each end of this
two-headed beast.
    My reaction was as spectacular as it was predictable.  I was getting
a cramp in my arm muscle from jerking myself off so energetically.  I
didn't want to come yet -- in fact, I was forming a plan for that.  I
watched the two heated bodies squirming on the bed and fought to maintain
my own control.
    The time came, though, as the girls were reaching a fever pitch,
when I knew it was now or never for me: Move it or lose it time.  I got
up, cock still in hand, and moved closer.  Alex had had an orgasm, I
thought (though you can't always tell with a woman, even when you know
her *very* well), and was doing her best to bring Connie off along with
her.  Neither of them had any special lesbian inclinations -- they were
individuals making love -- and I was a little surprised they had reached
such a level of expertise so easily.  (On the other hand, what did I
know?  Perhaps women are simply more subtle and articulate lovers than
men, by birth.)
    I stood at the foot of the bed, behind my sister's head, and she
paused and reached back to stroke my leg.  I climbed onto the mattress,
knees on either side of Alex's head -- and Connie's calves -- and ran my
hands gently over Connie's back to get her attention.
    "Connie, love, I have something here that's badly in need of a
home...."
    She raised her head enough to murmur "Do it!  I'm not used to this;
I think I need it, too!"  She wiggled her ass a little for emphasis.  I
held her hips and urged her back toward me; I didn't want to topple over
and crush them both.  Connie bent her knees more, laid her cheek against
Alex's belly, and gripped the backs of her thighs.
    As I stropped my cock on the margins of that little brown cunt, I
felt Alex's lips nibbling at my balls -- an extra added attraction.  Then
I slid into Connie's warm, juicy vagina and her spine straightened.  I
tried to move slowly but it was a struggle.  Alex had propped up her head
again and was slurping in my scrotum while her hands roamed over my legs,
my hips, my ass.  The physical feedback was electric.
    It take long for either Connie or I to reach the brink of orgasm,
but it wasn't like we had launched ourselves from a standing start.  I
held her hips more tightly as I jerked once, then twice.  Connie was
gasping for breath as she climaxed.  It was a wonderful feeling but I
quickly found it wasn't quite over.
    I became aware that Alex had worked her hand up between my groin and
Connie's ass and was trying to get her fingers around my cock as I pulled
back for another ejaculation.
    "No -- gimme ... I want it, too!  Please, Michael!"  The vehemence
of her demand made my cock twitch.  So I left Connie's luscious cunt and
my loving sister pulled my sticky cock down and engulfed it with her
mouth.  It was already hypersensitive and her tongue swirling around the
head made all the nearby nerve endings jitter wildly.  I hadn't finished
emptying my balls and Alex saw to it that not a drop of my semen was
wasted, swallowing rapidly as it jetted against the back of her throat. 
Then she flicked the tip of my cock with her tongue and that released a
final torrent.  She sounded very pleased with herself.
    When Connie coasted down from her orgasm, she crawled off Alex and
cuddled up to one side of her; I did the same on the other side and we
hugged and kissed and stroked each other in lazy weariness.  We passed
several hours like that -- sated, happy, totally at ease with each other. 
Toward dusk, we crawled out of bed and made our way, arms around each
other, to the bathroom.  After our jubilant orgy we all were badly in
need of a shower.


    When I was house-hunting, back during that summer before Alex's
freshman year, a bathroom with a larger-than-usual shower was high on my
list of desirable features.  It narrowed the prospects considerably, but
our time together under the hot spray was important to us both.  A major
factor in taking a lease on this mis-located brownstone was that it *was*
older than most apartments and houses I had looked at.  The bathtub was a
claw-footed monster big enough for a mast, a rudder, and a crew of six. 
The important thing was, it was easily large enough for three people who
were on very friendly terms.
    Connie arranged the Mickey-and-Minnie vinyl shower curtain and
cranked up the hot water while my sister and I readied a stack of thick
towels and got out the big sponges.  The sides of the tub came up to my
knees when I stood on the outside and I had to give little Connie a
steadying hand while she climbed in.  She flipped the shower lever on and
the bathroom instantly filled with clouds of steam; no wonder the
wallpaper was peeling at the upper corners.
    We were too beat for much horseplay, but gentle, quiet loving under
the torrent of hot water was another matter.  We all soaped each other,
paying special attention to body cavities and protuberances.  Alex laid
her head back against my shoulder and we kissed, long and slow, while
Connie carefully lathered up my sister's breasts and belly.
    Then we double-teamed Connie, covering all of her tight, smooth body
with suds while she basked happily in the attention.  Then the girls
stood back-to-back, entwining their arms and letting their soap-slick
buttocks slide against each other -- and I enjoyed the exquisite
titillation of cupping my sister's sweet, taut breast in one hand and
Connie's smaller, springier breast in the other.
    Finally, both my "best girls" moved in on me, each sucking one of my
nipples simultaneously.  Then there were four nipples fluttering against
my cock, my ass, my legs -- everywhere they could reach.  It wasn't
really a matter of sexual arousal -- we were all aroused to some degree
all the time, now -- but of giving each other tactile pleasure, and in
that we were certainly successful.
    We hit the sack early that Saturday night -- much earlier than we
had expected to.  We were young and full of energy and hormones, and any
of us could have jogged from the UC campus down to the Bay Bridge without
difficulty, yet we had exhausted ourselves in only twelve hours.  And
that's the best way to do it, I thought, as I floated off to dreamland
with my arms around two beautiful women and their heads snuggled against
my chest.

                             *  *  *  *  *

    The next morning, sitting at our kitchen table with the largest mugs
of coffee we could organize, we discussed what to do with the remainder
of the weekend.  We could simply repair to the bedroom and no one would
vote it down, but I wanted to show off the two lovely ladies I had been
blessed with.
    So I proposed we go into the City, stroll around Golden Gate Park
and the Palace of Fine Arts, visit Coit Tower and Mission Dolores -- the
usual sights, but the most dramatic.  The spots Alex and I knew showed
off San Francisco at its best, the places we returned to again and again
ourselves.
    Then the cocktail hour at the Top of the Mark, on Nob Hill, followed
by dinner at Donatello (if we could get reservations).  My sister and I
were aficionados of Northern Italian cuisine and Connie -- no surprise --
was a seafood junkie: Donatello was one of the best restaurants in the
City for both.  Expensive, but worth every penny -- and this was a very
special occasion.
    The weather in S.F. that afternoon was glorious, comfortably cool
but sunny and dry.  The frisbee-freaks thronged the park and young lovers
huddled under the trees.  The girls wore their warm-weather best and drew
attention everywhere we went; walking arm in arm with them, I basked in
their reflected radiance.
    Alex, with her long legs, had chosen a pleated minidress that
reminded me of a cheerleader outfit.  It was dazzling white, as were her
low heels, and showed off her tan nicely.  Connie preferred a blazing red
miniskirt cut straight and slim and a black sleeveless top -- her
favorite colors.  She also wore low heels; San Francisco isn't a
high-heel city when you're walking and hopping on and off cable cars. 
But both women carried large purses in preparation for the evening and I
was carrying my basic blue blazer and my sister's white jacket over my
arm.
    By 5:00, we had seen the sights on our list and Connie was mentally
comparing Honolulu's cost of living with that of San Francisco.  Even
coming from the Islands, she was visibly smitten with the City by the
Bay; it's hard not to be.  San Francisco can be dirty, dangerous,
decadent, and demoralizing -- but it's also exhilarating, intoxicating,
and romantic, and (when conditions are just right) so heartbreakingly
beautiful that I can't imagine *anyone* wanting to live anywhere else.
    We strolled into the Mark Hopkins and split up at the rest rooms on
the 2nd Floor.  When we met on the Mezzanine a few minutes later, Alex's
walking shoes and ordinary pantyhose had been exchanged for white patent
heels and smoky gray hose with a seam up the back, and she was wearing
her linen jacket.  Her freshly-brushed auburn mane shone.  Connie had
changed to high red heels that matched her mini; over the black top she
now wore a short gold lame jacket that contrasted electrically with her
thick black hair.  And I had put on my tie and blazer.
    We went up the elevator to the Top with several other couples and I
was aware of the curious/envious glances of the men -- especially when
Connie laid her head against my left shoulder and took a possessive grip
on my arm, while my sister interlaced her fingers with mine and touched
the back of my hand to her lips.
    We spent a delightful hour sipping our drinks on the outer ring of
the Top, watching the City rotate past; we were in a curved booth so
that, again, I could have the pleasure of a girl on each side of me.  We
all three held hands on the table top and talked quietly about this
marvelous new triangular relationship that had come into being so
suddenly.  We must have caused considerable gossip among the waiters.
    When Alex made a hip-swaying journey to the powder room, Connie and
I squeezed each other's hands in delight and barely suppressed our glee
at the surreptitious glances she got from other patrons of both sexes. 
When Alex returned, she said another woman not much older than she had
tried to pump her (diplomatically) for information about our little
threesome.
    "I just smiled and told her we were both your devoted fiancees," she
said straightfaced.  Nothing would do, of course, but that Connie make
the same trip, whether she needed to or not.
    "She's still there," Connie reported on her return.  "She asked me
if we were both really engaged to you."  She poked my gently in the ribs. 
"She couldn't understand how two women could share the same man without
being jealous of each other.  I just told her you were such a world-class
lover, we were always too exhausted to worry about it!"  She could barely
stifle her giggles.
    Then it was a short walk across Union Square to Donatello, where we
stuffed ourselves with veal marsala and scampi, and wine from the Esti
vineyards.  We swore to each other that we couldn't eat another bite ...
until the pastry cart came around and we fell all over the chocolate and
orange and hazelnut concoctions.
    Our waiter that evening was a young Genoese named Pietro who
confided that he was really an artist -- but one must earn a living,
Signori!  I could spot a closet romantic a block away (takes one to know
one) and I asked him if he thought it was possible for a man to be
genuinely in love with more than one woman at a time.
    He smiled broadly at the three of us.  "Of course, Signori!  But it
can be a terrible problem: Does one man *deserve* the love of more than
one woman in *return*?"
    I looked back at him more soberly.  "Pietro, it is indeed a terrible
problem, and a heavy burden.  Such a fortunate man must strive very hard
to be worthy of such a rare gift."
    I looked into Alex's eyes and then Connie's, and then I had
temporary difficulty seeing anything clearly.  Both of my darlings leaned
over and kissed me on the cheek at almost the same moment.  Even Pietro
looked a little misty.  He also got his largest tip of the evening.

                             *  *  *  *  *

    The second half of our two-week odyssey of discovery was a little
different.  The starting gun had fired, the first sprint was past, and
now we found ourselves settling in comfortably and naturally for the long
haul.  We worked during the days, went out most evenings to introduce
Connie to our favorite haunts around Berkeley (and to show her off -- "an
old friend of ours" -- to some of our acquaintances), and spent much of
each night making love.  The sex wasn't as frantic, now.  Instead, we
refined our techniques with each other and made all the reassuring noises
and gestures that new lovers make.
    I enjoyed falling asleep with a woman I adored and a female body I
constantly lusted after cuddled up to me on each side.  I would wake once
or twice each night and lie there listening to their breathing and
delicate snoring, and I'd fall in love all over again.  Often, Alex's arm
would be draped across my chest while Connie's arm crossed my body from
the other direction a few inches lower.
    Wednesday night, I woke gradually from an enormously sexy dream and
found both of them quietly licking my quivering cock from both sides at
once.
    "It's just us," Alex whispered.
    "Thank God for that,..." I murmured and simply lay there, indolently
enjoying the attention.  I repaid both of them Thursday night by very
quietly and gently sucking at each girl's tits until she was moaning in
her sleep.


    Saturday was a sad day in spite of the joy we took from simply being
together.  It would be our last day and our last night together, at least
for awhile, because Connie had to be on her plane at 10:30 Sunday
morning.
    None of us felt like carousing as we had the previous weekend. 
Without any real discussion, we spent the day quietly and domestically. 
We made sure all of Connie's clothing was gathered up from around the
house, and was washed and packed.  We collected all the books and
souvenirs she had acquired in to two short weeks and packed them in a
couple of cartons for direct shipment.  And we made ourselves more and
more miserable in the process.  When Monday morning came, Connie wouldn't
be there with her broad smile, her dancing eyes, her devious puns.  She
wouldn't be there to stand on tiptoe and kiss each of us good morning. 
She wouldn't....  Hell.
    In mid-afternoon, I was standing at the bedroom window staring
morosely out at the gray sky, when Alex stuck her head in the door and
beckoned urgently.  She looked worried.  I quickly followed her down to
the living room and discovered Connie sitting on the big, old overstuffed
sofa, the one that had been in Alex's room when we were young.
    She was huddled against the back cushion with her legs drawn up
protectively and her arms hugging them.  Her face was pressed down
against her knees; her cascading hair hid almost all of her from view. 
It wasn't until I saw her shoulders move that I realized she was crying.
    "She won't talk to me, Michael."  My sister looked at me anxiously
and urged me toward her with one hand.  Whatever had upset Connie was
upsetting Alex as well.
    "I don't think she wants talking," I replied and went to the small,
huddled figure.  Curled up in a ball like that, she seemed not much
bigger than a child, never mind that she was older than me.  I wasn't
quite sure what to do, either.
    I sat carefully next to her and leaned close, and I heard her
muffled sobs.  They made my chest ache.  I gently stroked her head and
let my hand linger on the back of her neck, a warm presence she couldn't
ignore.
    "Sweetheart, what is it?  Connie?  Please tell me what we've
done...."  I spoke softly, as I would to a child.  I was sure we *hadn't*
done anything to upset little Connie -- and I was pretty sure she
wouldn't let that question go by.
    She finally raised her head and looked at me; her lovely eyes were
swollen and red and the knees of her jeans were soaked with her tears. 
Her mouth was contorted with something like anguish.  It was a few
minutes before she could regain some measure of control but she still had
difficulty speaking.  She *did* seem like a little girl.
    "Oh -- it -- it wasn't -- anything -- you did, Mi-- Michael!  Or --
or Alex.  I -- I *love* you guys!  I just -- I just -- don't want to --
to go *home*...!"  And she broke down again and buried her face in her
hands.  I glanced over at Alex, holding her clenched hands under her chin
in sympathetic pain, and she moved around to Connie's other side.
    "Connie, darling, we love you, too!"  My sister seemed on the verge
of tears herself as she took the other girl's hand.
    I could think of only one immediate therapy.  I slipped one arm
behind Connie's knees and the other around her shoulders, scooped her up,
and set her on my lap.  She buried her face in my chest and her small
frame shook with renewed sobs.  I put my arms around her and held her and
rocked her a little, making hushing sounds and stroking her hair.
    It might have looked silly to an outsider, but it worked, over a
period or ten or fifteen minutes -- and it dawned on me quite suddenly
that I had used the word "Outsider" in my mind in its old sense of
"everyone but Alex-and-me."  Connie had become fixed in my thoughts as
one of "us."
    She snuffled and gulped and blotted her eyes on the hem of her tee
shirt.  Then she saw the large damp spot on my shirt and made a "huh"
sound, which was as close as she could get to a laugh.  She didn't look
embarrassed at her loss of control; she knew that honest emotion, even as
intense as this had been, was never anything to be ashamed of in this
house.
    "I thought I could get through today without losing it."  She looked
sadly at the two of us.  "But it just hit me all of a sudden that I won't
*be* here tomorrow morning.  God, I want so much to stay here with you --
or take both of you with me.  There *has* to be a way for us to stay
together!"
    I cupped her chin in my hand.  "Sweetheart, we *will* find a way. 
It'll take a while and I have *no* idea *how* we'll do it -- but we will. 
I promise you, Connie: We'll find a way."
    I hadn't noticed that Alex had moved over until her arms circled my
neck from behind and I felt her cheek press against mine.  She was
sniffling a little, too, as she kissed my ear.  She reached out and
touched Connie's cheek and added, "Now that we've found each other,
nothing's going to keep us apart.  Not anything, Connie."


    Since Connie's gear was organized and ready to go, the three of us
spent the rest of Saturday pretending Sunday would never come.  There was
a Bogart mini-festival on TV that evening and we lounged around in
various configurations and watched "Casablanca," "To Have and Have Not,"
and several others.  We popped popcorn and fed it to each other.
    Connie sat in my lap like a kid, with her head leaning against my
chest.  I lay with my head in Alex's lap -- my favorite spot in the
universe for many years.  Connie and Alex propped each other up on the
sofa while I sat on the floor with my back to the furniture and massaged
the bare feet they draped over my shoulders.  We made an effort not to
feel there was any hurry.
    That night, we went back to the simple formulas.  Alex and I made
love in the tried and true missionary position.  As many times as we had
fucked over the years, the desire in each of us was as strong as it had
ever been.  As I reached a gasping climax, Connie lay beside my sister,
kissing her long and soulfully, nibbling at her ear, and holding her
hand.
    A little while later, I lay on my back with Connie impaled above me
as Alex licked her breasts and her ears and stroked her sweet ass.  Then
the girls lay side by side, kissing and caressing each other's bodies,
while I lay behind Alex and stroked and petted them both.  And I tried to
think of a way for all of us to remain together that wouldn't require
someone's career to be sacrificed.
    Sunday morning we laughed and joked to cover the somber mood.  We
got Connie to the airport and sat around holding hands and smiling at
each other until it was time for her to board.  At the last minute, as
our emotions threatened to unravel again, we indulged in another
three-way clinch, as we had two weeks before.
    Connie hugged both of us tightly and then said with fierce
resolution, "You guys start shopping for a larger bed.  By this time next
year, I'll be back -- to stay!"
    And as Alex and I stood at the observation window and watched the
plane taxi out of sight around the corner of the terminal, we hugged each
other and managed to hold back most of the tears.  We were sure we could
find a way to reunite our new family.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted
elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.
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