Constance and Her B&B Pt. 03

The days following our sunny afternoon in the woods were a succession of crises interspersed with mad bouts of loving. The women treated their project assignments as an excuse to get horny and gang up on me. So, of course, I would sit in my attic room trying to write, but horribly distracted by mental reruns of the latest wrestling match on Connie's bed, which always ended with bodies being clutched tightly in my arms, cunts squeezing mightily, and voices making little breathy noises that overcame me with lust and a flood for them.

An autumn rainstorm swept in from the Pacific, making a bog of the work area, so that Tina's brother could not get his equipment near the site until it dried out. The county building department spent a week grilling Camille about the remodeling plans, trying to apply obscure rules about upgrades that would require the whole house to be gutted. It was only after she threatened to bring in people from the National Trust for Historic Preservation and go to the newspapers that they backed down.

Tina was a dynamo, taking charge of the kitchen project and swearing a blue streak when we found ancient asbestos insulation in the walls and around an abandoned stove flue. She pushed me against the wall and hissed, "We are not getting asbestos in our lungs. That big word starting with an M is a bad way to die." She disappeared to town and came back with masks, jump suits, acres of plastic and rolls of masking tape. Connie and Camille were exiled for a day as the two of us stripped and bagged and ran the special vacuum like crazy.

A very hard scrubbing in a very long shower was required afterwards. She complained that fibers might have gotten on my penis and sex would be outlawed. With her back against the tile, I growled and lowered her slowly onto my stiff shaft. She batted my head, giggled and screamed loud enough for the others to hear and come running.

They pulled open the shower door and she said, "You better look at this, he may be contaminated with asbestos fibers!"

Constance was outraged. "You two report to the spa immediately. What a mess you have made in here."

The contaminated item was abused by six hands and three mouths. It tried to find an available pussy, but they said, "Later." I lay back in the warm water, closed my eyes, and let them talk past me.

"It's only two weeks until Thanksgiving. How are we going to make holiday dinner for guests in a tornup kitchen?"

I held up my hand without opening my eyes. Constance asked, "What is your hand up for?"

"I will buy everyone holiday dinner in town."

"Hmmm. This must be part of a plot to get more sex from us." I was dragged to the big bed by my ear, and shoved into the middle. "Someone entertain him while I fix drinks."

Camille pushed asbestos girl and me together and lay on us. "There are damn few clients who would clean that mess out of the kitchen like you did. With all the bio-hazard rules, it would have cost ten grand for a contractor to do it."

Tina nibbled on a Camille boob, and I kissed her on the lips. The naked serving wench arrived with drinks and we made suggestive hoots.

"Make room, or you'll get none of these."

Camille sipped deeply and said, "Why don't we rent one of those rotisserie barbeques and use mesquite chips with the charcoal. Roast turkey, Texas style. You could charge extra."

I put my drink down and rolled her into my lap where my teeth could fasten themselves properly. "Arnie, you stop that. I'm getting super horny with all your antics."

Constance punched me. "Yes. Writers in residence are supposed to have better manners." She shoved Camille out of the way and smashed her boobs into my chest, followed by her lips on mine.

"Damn. The owner is out of control again."

I couldn't figure it out, but the four of us wrestling around on that big bed, swearing, pinching, licking and kissing was more fun than a barrel of monkeys.

I collapsed, breathing hard, my arms around Tina. "That was a helluva project you pulled off today, girl."

She rammed a knee into my crotch. "You better not try to push me off on other guys anymore..."

"How come you like this older guy who can't do much more than write?"

She wiggled herself into a really tight clinch. "Don't you dare make me cry. Be nice and say you love me."

There was a terrible hiss in my other ear, "Tell her!"

"I do. I really do. I'm in love with three incredible women and don't deserve any of you."

Camille stood at the side of the bed, pink and breathing hard and looking as sexy as a woman can. "You just keep saying that, and giving us orgasms, and we will take care of the rest."

"Shit. This is too much." I relaxed and settled for kissing the side of Tina's head that wasn't hiding in the crook of my neck. My hands rubbed on her tough behind and she clenched it as she mashed her mound against me.

I didn't realize we were napping until Constance pinched the tip of me and said, "Dinner is served on the patio." Before I could move, she leaned over and licked it as well. "Tina, we better not damage his equipment."

It was a very balmy night for the coastside and we sat around in tees and shorts. I poured a good red to go with the store bought prime rib. Constance and Camille toasted Tina and me, "Here is to our asbestos heroes. Let's hope there is no more of that."

On Monday morning, Tina and Camille were up early and disappeared to town for school and work. Connie and I snuggled with a cup of coffee, and pretended we didn't have a lot of work ourselves.

I nuzzled her neck and whispered, "I sure like the rooming house you are running."

"Arnie, are you really going to marry me and make babies?"

"What kind of a question is that to ask a novelist trying to get into the meat of his new book?"

She sniffled on my chest. "Why on earth are you crying?"

"Being with you has turned this place from a millstone into a joy. I am crying happy tears."

"Hey, all I did was discover this incredibly beautiful passionate woman who took me into her marvelous castle in the redwoods and demands sex every day."

"Be quiet, you goof ball. You are supposed to be thinking up dastardly deeds by monstrous villains. Don't be sappy with me."

She wasn't sure what was going on as I eased us out of bed, but screamed bloody murder when I bent her over the bed rail and plunged firmly to my root.

"Damn, the villain is in the story, not in my pussy!"

My hands were at work and her body responded nobly. We took our time, enjoying the loving. After I attacked two stiff nipples she swore and kicked into high gear, bucking her ass into my front and driving me deeper. I called her a slut and a tramp and slapped the tough globes. At the last minute, already in climax, she pulled off, grabbed me and sprayed us both as he erupted.

In the shower, arms around my neck, she said, "That's what you get for calling me passionate."

"You are pretty liberated these days, sexpot."

"I know. It's all your fault. Now go upstairs and write."

There was a respectable pile of yellow sheets when I heard the stairs creak and sat back to watch the neighborhood raven in my redwoods out the window. A warm hand cradled my head as the other placed coffee and a muffin with jam on the table.

I eased her to my knee. "You are good for my writing. The villains are running roughshod over our poor country women."

She leaned back. "My grandfather used to tell me tales about Prohibition days. There were nasty types around with guns."

"Was there really a bunker in these woods?"

"Yes. If you need a run, I will show you the remains."

"Mostly, I need you." My hands crept up under her shirt.

"I'm supposed to be angry about that rude sex this morning. You beat my ass and I came like a firecracker." She wiggled and I tightened my grip on her breasts, licking under her ear.

"Which comes first, the run or me?"

I stood us up, raising the shirt over her head and applying my tongue to high, firm tits.

She wrenched away, laughing, "Very naughty. Writers must have discipline!"

We were walking out of the house when the noise of tires crunching on gravel reached us. "Wait, I'll come too!"

A moment later, she rushed up and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize maybe you needed a private run?" Her eyes were staring at Connie's flushed face and chest.

"Get your running clothes on and hurry!"

We were in a clinch when she came back. "You both are bad, making me feel left out."

We each took a hand and ran through the woods, singing. It was a marvelous sunny day and our spirits were high. Tina tried to punch me and I threw her over my shoulder, going full tilt down the trail. "Stop! You'll trip and kill us."

She settled for a piggyback ride, asking, "What has got into you?"

Connie replied, "I'm taking him to the remains of the bunker. He says he needs color in the novel."

She dropped down and looked at us. "I've figured it out. You had good sex and are running it off!"

I wrapped my arms around from the rear and squeezed. "Just a little more color for my collection."

They shouted and ran ahead.

After thirty minutes in the woods, I was completely lost when we came around a corner and were in a clearing with a hole in the middle. I walked to the edge, seeing a jumble of timbers with water in the bottom. There was charcoal blackening on most of the wood.

"Originally, I think it was dug for a weight scale for logging trucks. The moonshiners found it and stored inventory. When pursuit was hot, they hid underground with their booze. Finally, someone squealed and the feds burned it."

They leaned on me, hot and sweaty, as we looked in the hole.

"What about the gunslinging women?"

I was elbowed. "You think any self-respecting moll would crawl down there? Not a chance."

"So, no company for the villains in my story?"

"Not here. There was a cabin on a ridge off the road over to 101. A view and a proper bathroom! Six bedrooms. Six very small bedrooms. Not a lot of sleeping going on."

"You are making that up?"

"My uncle told me he heard about it from his great grandfather, who was a guest! Said after Repeal, the woman who presided moved to town and opened a popular gift shop. But she would never talk about her past!"

I headed us back and told them, "You are in charge of weaving that into our novel."

A hot shower felt good and I took three beers to the deck, where the sun was welcome. Constance and I had shorts on, but Tina insisted on being the naked nymph of the day, holding out lotion to us for application.

Covering my shorts with her towel, she sat in my lap and complained, "You have made me terribly horny. First seeing you fresh from bed, and then running through the forest getting all sweaty."

"I probably can't even get it up."

She pulled my hands to her slippery boobs, and plunged her tongue into my mouth. She knew I knew she was hot stuff, and her attack was working. The nearest redwood was twenty yards away, and with a giant roar, I had her against the trunk in a leaping run. She howled as my small tree trunk drove straight up and into the fine cunt, scraping tender flesh on the coarse bark. Hands beat futilely on my head and shoulders.

"Yes! More. You awful man. You shaggy beast of the forest!"

I carried the limp body back to the deck and deposited it in the owner's lap.

Connie whispered in her ear, "That was a fine fuck, will it hold you for a while?"

Tina squirmed around, fine tits rubbing on other fine tits. "He is so awful and I love him so much!"

I gathered her up again and walked us through the house to the big bed.

Someone poked me from sleep, "What about the novel?"

I pulled her to the bed and attacked her lips while my hands undid buttons and zippers.

"We had a writing conference in the woods. I got a lot of useful ideas. But after we showered the poison oak off, I was attacked..."

Camille crouched over me, licking and sucking the well used cock back to life. I smiled at her and pinched a perky nipple. "I suppose something has got your juices going too?"

She said nothing until well settled on me, my hardness gripped fiercely.

"I was at my desk, trying to be a productive architect, when I looked out at the glorious sun and said to myself that there was probably bad behavior happening here. So I finish a set of important drawings, put things in order and drive to my new adopted home. Sure enough, there are the two of you in bed sleeping it off." She leaned down for a long, wet kiss.

"Where is the proprietor?"

"She left a note saying she is doing the shopping"

Surprisingly, Tina was still out of it by our side. I rolled forward and stood with Camille in my arms, walking to the stairs and up to the sunny garret. I laid her out on the bed and admired the pale slender body with modest breasts perched on a muscled chest and broad shoulders. Her eyes were dark and beckoning.

"More." The legs slowly opened to reveal pink sex framed in black hair. My cock did the growling for me, jutting hard and purple toward her.

"I'm last, aren't I?"

I let the silence grow and answered, "But not least."

She smiled, flexed her hips, and said, "Show me."

Of the group, she was the most nervous about our arrangement. Tortured herself wondering about complications. Three women couldn't just give themselves to a guy, could they? I saw the flicker in her eyes, and went to work. A missionary plunge and busy, exploring strokes until she found herself coming, arms thrashing and hips returning my thrusts.

I drew back, taking her body with me and bending it over the iron bedstead in the slanting light. The cunt was well lubricated, but I worked it hard from the rear, complaining she hadn't shown me a proper climax. Before it arrived, I could feel her body tensing, freezing, and then releasing in a long drawn out cry.

I stood us in the window, one hand on her breast and the other firmly buried between her legs.

"You are a remarkable woman, Camille. You keep uncovering new depths of your body to me. If we were pack wolves, you would be my female partner, strong and dominant in your own right." My teeth worried her neck and she shivered.

"Arnie, loving you is so strange and wonderful. I've run across brutish males before, but your strength is different. It's as though my body is a violin and you are sawing the bow on my strings, drawing out incredible melodies, showing your mastery at every moment."

We turned into each other and she cried gently on my shoulder.

Connie and Tina found us, back on the bed, sitting together in the dying sunset.

"Tina, there was more than writing going on up here."

They sat on either side for quiet moments. No one said anything as the sun slipped behind the trees, gone for the day.

Camille and I held hands trooping down the stairs behind the others, feeling funny at being naked, although not sure why that should be.

She asked me to wash her hair, and I happily obliged. There were lots of tender kisses until she finally said, "This is so foolish. How could I get carried away like that? You've made me feel like I'm back in school caught up in a first love affair."

I toweled her, whispering, "Love affairs aren't so bad, are they?"

Her hand reached to pinch me. "Until they end badly!"

We entered the kitchen in terry robes, ready to help with dinner. I went over to put an arm around Connie and Tina and said, simply, "No bad endings."

They looked at me and echoed, "No bad endings?"

Camille laughed, "We are having a love affair and he says there will not be a bad ending!"

They descended on me. "Why, of course, there are no bad endings at this house!"

Dinner was quietly gay. And humorous. Connie opened a bottle of the precious Cabernet, and we drank deeply, squeezed into the only corner of the kitchen not yet demolished.

I laughed, "We are pretty silly, aren't we? Sitting here scheming our novels and our remodel and our writer's colony?"

Connie pointed a finger at me, "Just for that, you are to go into the parlor and make a fire. We will bring dessert."

I knew one of them had to have my lap, so the other two could snuggle closely. Tina and Camille held bowls as I settled Connie and spread the blanket.

She fed me spoonfuls of ice cream as one guy and three women relaxed before flickering flames in the cozy parlor.

"Will the novels get written if we continue to live this lovely story of a guy and his women, hidden in the redwoods?"

"Tina, you are having a romantic crush!"

Camille leaned over for a kiss, "So am I!"

Constance sat up and straddled me, stiff breasts poking out her blouse. "It didn't start out that way, but this has been a day for romance and loving! I am so mushy, I could melt, just like this ice cream!"

I grabbed empty bowls as they collapsed on each other, and marched to the kitchen with giggles behind me. Back in school, indeed.

Later, in bed, I manhandled the delicious bodies, declaring, "We are having so much fun that we actually are going back to work tomorrow. Thanksgiving and guests are only two weeks away."

I was slipping into sleep when a soft voice said, "Arnie, we are going to declare 'mush' days every so often..."

Rain was loud on the roof when we woke in the morning. The cold storm had a chill in the house that made us curl into each other under the covers. I crawled out and said, "Stay there and plan the work to get us ready for guests."

In twenty minutes, I returned with a full tray of breakfast, eggs on very hot plates surrounded by juice and toast and jam and strong black coffee.

They had been busy and I was programmed to be lead carpenter of the kitchen renovation, concentrating on helping the plumber and electrician do their work, and then closing the walls with sheetrock and wainscoating. Camille declared, "If you apply yourself, it will be ready for Thanksgiving dinner!"

* * *

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Connie was welcoming guests as Tina and I frantically prepared dinner. In the bedroom was an authentic butler uniform, which I was going to wear for cocktail service. The weather was cooperating, with late fall sun, although the fluffy clouds could darken to rain with little warning.

Camille, after doing a great job supervising and gophering the kitchen work, was absent for the holiday entertaining her aunt and several cousins.

Tina bumped me, "Novelist to carpenter to sous chef. I like that, Arnie."

"My pleasure, Madam. Would you like your martini on the rocks or straight up?"

She giggled. "Still trying to get gin into the innocent girls, are you?"

My hand was on Tina's behind when Connie came bustling in and said, "Please! Not when we have guests. This is a decent house."

She tilted her face up and got a kiss from each of us. "We are going to be full, can you believe that?"

Looking at her lists and checking the brand new stainless refrigerator, she said, "Arnie, can you make a quick run to town? Here is a list of things we have to have for a full house of guests."

I kissed the back of Tina's head and said, "She is in her element. The perfect hostess, and organized as well."

Tina backed into me, "That's a fine woman you're betrothed to."

I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, "I'm holding a fine woman who will be betrothed herself one of these days."

She spun away. "Go do your errand before you make me cry."

In uniform, I was enjoying serving the guests when Connie ratted me out. There was a round of applause for the writer who was acting out one of his characters. I bowed and announced that dinner was served.

The first course was abalone soup, with fresh abalone from the local market, which only occasionally offered the delicacy. I poured an Alsatian Reisling to go with it, with the slightest touch of sweetness. The potage was out of this world and the nine couples were so impressed the conversation was hushed.