Foursomes and Moresomes Ch. 01

Getting sent out of the house actually suited me fine because it let me get away from the kids and work on my hobby for some "me" time. Next to my three wives and four (soon to be eight) kids, I have two other babies.

I call the first of them "Candy"; she's a 1965 Corvette Roadster in fire-engine red with a white convertible top. Under the hood is a 350 fuel-injected small block and M21 close-ratio 4-speed manual transmission that's as smooth as silk. When I bought her, she was a little run down, but I rebuilt her from the ground up and added some modern amenities like satellite radio, GPS and seats with good lumbar support. The numbers don't match, the engine's not original and she's got a lot of miles, but that's not the point.

She drives like a dream and was built to go cruising. Candy turns heads and draws many admiring stares. At car shows, the snobbier Corvette owners—with their 400 original miles and stock engines that have been babied in a climate-controlled storage facility for the last forty years—turn up their noses, but we keep moving along. Cars are made for driving, not sitting in a garage as a show piece.

My wives are that way, too. We'd rather go out and have fun than worry what other people might say or think about us. None of them are drop-dead gorgeous, but to me, Katie, Leah and Melinda are the most beautiful women in the world. They're not as "perfect" as those magazines would have you believe, but I wouldn't trade them for anything . . . Certainly not some trophy wife who only eats rice cakes and celery!

My other baby is where Candy was about four years ago. She doesn't have a name yet, but she's lean and mean. I stripped her down to the frame and have been restoring the 1970 Chevelle convertible to better-than-original condition. She's also red, but has black racing stripes and I'm fitting her out with polished chrome everywhere. When I bought her, she had an after-market 350 under the hood, but I lifted it out and dropped in a 454 LS6 for a little extra power. I am in the process of putting in a 4 speed automatic transmission with a slapstick shifter, and I think I'm going to have to beef up her rear differential to keep the frame from twisting when I drop the hammer at the drag strip.

If Candy is my cruiser, this other car is going to be my racer.

When we built the house, the girls pretty much had run of the place. I had a little bit of input, especially when it came to the building part, but just about everything inside was planned and decorated by the girls. They wanted things to be "just right". If you've built your own house with a woman, you know what I'm talking about. Now try that with three of them. Your best bet is to say, "Yes, dear" and then just do whatever it is they tell you.

However, when it came time to build the guest house, it was all me. It's a two-story building with a small living space on the upper level and a garage/workshop on the bottom floor. Since the ground around our house slopes as you go around back, there are entrances to both levels that don't involve any steps. On one side downstairs is a shop for all my tools including a woodworking bench and space large enough to work on something as big as a bookshelf or a couch. On the other side is my car garage (there is another four-car garage underneath the main house where we keep our daily drivers); I have two bays, one where I keep Candy in from the elements (I don't think her top has ever been up), and there's a shop-grade hydraulic lift in the other one.

The Chevelle was on the lift, although I only had her about four inches off the ground; high enough that I didn't have to bend over too much to work on the engine. After mowing the lawn earlier in the day, I was tinkering around, mostly just to kill time until our company arrived.

I vaguely heard the door open and close. The footsteps I recognised as Melinda's.

"Hey, sweetheart," she purred softly.

Looking up, I was presented with a most luscious sight. My wife was wearing a knee-length A-line skirt and a white button-down blouse. Her hair was pulled back, but I didn't really notice it. The top five buttons were open, and her magnificent breasts were spilling out. Those pillow-soft orbs were just barely held in place by a bra that seemed like it was ready to burst at any second.

She sauntered over to me. Her hips swayed and her breasts bounced with every step. Melinda walked around the car as I hunched over the engine block. She made sure to strut seductively and flash her shapely legs and voluptuous curves.

"Hey, yourself," I replied, fully aware that I was being seduced. Or rather, I was about to get jumped. For the record, that's not a complaint; I'm just sayin'.

"Whatcha working on?" she asked, pressing against me. I could feel her breasts on my back.

I shrugged. "Just checking the vacuum lines."

Her hand ran up my back and settled on my neck. You know the spot: its right at the base of your skull and if you hit it just right, it will make your entire body shiver. Melinda has always had a knack for finding that spot with the first pass.

"I have a problem," she whispered.

"Oh, really?" I asked coyly. "And what might that be?"

"You know how we all have something to do each day? I'm having trouble today." Her mouth formed a slight pout.

"What are you having trouble with, Honey?"

I almost creamed my shorts when she stuck her tongue in my ear. "I can't cum."

"Why can't you cum?" I asked when my voice returned.

"It's kind of hard to explain," she whined before maneuvering herself between me and the car. I leaned in and kissed her. "Maybe you should take a look at what's under the hood."

"Right away," I said with a smile. I was wondering if we were going to play "mechanic". Quickly cleaning my hands off on a rag, I dropped the hood on the Chevelle, then lifted Melinda so she was sitting on the grille. Her feet rested on the bumper. I love big American cars. Almost as much as I love big American girls.

Melinda leaned over and pulled my face into her breasts. I could have suckled on her nipples forever, but she had other ideas.

Leaning back, she pulled her skirt up, showing me that she wasn't wearing any panties and the plug that was nestled securely in her ass . . . just as she had been instructed. Her pussy was shaved bare. Her labia were swollen with excitement.

I looked down at my wife and saw her unbuttoning her shirt. My cock was hard and I didn't know if I was going to make it through the preliminaries.

"I've been trying and trying all morning," she whined. "And I just can't cum. Please help me."

"Play with your tits," I grunted, reaching for the hydraulic lift controls. She began to knead her big round tits as I raised her and the car up.

When her pussy was level with my mouth, I began to kiss the insides of her thighs. The sweet smell of her sex was intoxicating. Two of my fingers slipped into her easily.

"Please eat me," she moaned.

"Please eat what?" I teased.

"Eat my pussy," Melinda implored me desperately. "Eat my hot little cunt."

I smiled to myself then dove in between her legs with my tongue. At first, I debated whether I should tease her for a while or if I should do the swirly thing she taught all of us that's pretty much guaranteed to bring a woman to orgasm very quickly.

"Right there," she groaned. "Oh, yes! . . . Fucking eat me!"

With her legs resting on the bumper, she began to buck her pussy against my mouth. I drank down her juices which were running freely.

Her knees began to quiver.

Glancing up, I saw her fingers pinching her nipples through her bra. Her head rolled from side to side.

"Don't stop . . . don't you dare stop," she gasped as I sucked hard on her clit. "Oh, that's it . . . that's it . . . eat Mama's pussy . . . I'm about to . . . Here I cu—"

I pressed my tongue flat against her clit and she let loose with a primal scream. I lapped at her pussy, trying not to let a drop go to waste.

She gasped for breath, her body convulsing with waves of pleasure.

Smiling to myself, I let Melinda down from her orgasm slowly. She continued to shudder with every breath. The insides of her legs were coated with cum. As was my face.

The only sound in the garage was her unsteady gasps. I waited until they became somewhat regular, then reached for the control for the hydraulic lift.

Melinda jumped slightly as I lowered the car back to its original position, about four inches off the ground. I pulled her so she was once again sitting on the hood of my car.

Her legs were wobbly. Her pupils were dilated. Her magnificent breasts spilled out of her blouse. Taking her hand, I led her around the car. I opened the door and climbed into the back seat.

As I pushed my shorts and boxers down past my knees, Melinda climbed on top of me. We weren't supposed to be doing this, but in that moment, I didn't care.

I love being inside my wives right after they've had an orgasm. Especially Melinda. Even after two children, her pussy is still as tight as it has ever been. Despite all the fucking it's taken, I'll never tire of it.

She lowered herself down on top of me. We both let out a low, throaty moan.

"How long do we have?" she nibbled on my ear.

"Forever," I whispered. She looked into my eyes and I knew no other man would ever have her again.

Melinda laughed gently. "No, silly. How long until Mimi and Geoff arrive?"

"A couple more hours," I guessed.

"We'd better not take too long," my wife said, her voice sultry. "We have to get cleaned up so no one finds out we've been bad."

"Oh, you've been bad all right," I smacked her backside playfully. As I filled up her pussy, I could feel the plug in her ass pressing back against me. "I think you'll need to be punished later."

"Oooooooh," she purred. "Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks!"

"I plan on it," I promised. She leaned in and gave me a deep kiss. We made love in the back seat of the Chevelle. Long and slow.

It's a good thing we were well away from the main house. She screamed like a banshee when she came. I just prayed, calling out God's name. A lot.

When it was over, we looked into each others's souls and promised our undying love to one another.

*************

We were washed up and clean when Mimi and Geoff arrived. Katie and Leah were joined by Melinda and the girls finished cleaning the house. I showered out in the guest house and tried not to look like the cat who ate the canary.

The girls were all wearing loose blouses and skirts. The four kids were traipsing about with the promise of new friends on their minds. I gave everyone a hug and a kiss. The little ones got a tickle or two. The big girls each gave me a handful of their backside and a quick feel if no one was looking.

I was in the kitchen helping Katie make dinner when our guests pulled in.

Melinda called for the kids. We all went outside to greet Mimi, Geoff and their kids. As they got out of their car, Leah rushed out to greet them with warm hugs and kisses.

We introduced everyone, which takes a while when twelve people are involved. Both of my old high school friends looked just as vibrant and happy as when we had last seen them just a couple of months ago.

Only now when I looked at them, all I could picture in my mind's eye was watching them fuck. Because that's what the four of us spent our nights doing each time they released a new video.

I helped with their bags. Even though they were only staying for a long weekend, there was plenty of stuff to bring in.

Our four children hit it off right away with their two. Kaylee is the oldest at five, although their daughter Tiffany is only a year younger. Their son Jeremy is almost three, just like Bryan. Gwen and Gabi are only a couple of months behind.

We had talked to the kids about our guests and how they were special friends we had grown up with and that they needed to be on their best behaviour. Or we tried to. Sometimes, talking to two year-olds is like talking to a dog. Only the kids talk back every now and then.

I went back to the kitchen while Melinda and Leah gave Geoff and Mimi the five minute tour. Katie corralled the kids as best she could.

The rest of our evening was spent reminiscing and catching up. The kids disappeared into the downstairs play room as the adults rotated through in pairs to keep an eye on them. Only Katie and I were exempt from watching the little ones, and that was because we were in charge of cooking.

Mimi was as strikingly beautiful as always. It wasn't long before Katie and I found ourselves alone with her.

"Thank you for doing this for us," she said, pouring a glass of wine for herself. Katie and I both declined.

"We're not doing this for you," Katie shot her a mischievous smile. "We're doing it for us."

The two girls shared a look. Their eyes seemed to smolder. It's hard to explain. On one level, they were sizing each other up. On another, they were promising each other great things to come.

"Did you follow our instructions?" Katie broke the silence.

"Yes," Mimi replied evenly.

I jumped when Katie struck her across the chest. For just a second, Mimi seemed to recoil, like a cat about to retaliate. But then she remembered her place.

" 'Yes', what?" my wife said firmly.

Mimi's eyes dropped submissively. "Yes, Mistress."

"Prove it," Katie said, her voice not relenting.

I could tell Mimi was both loving it and having a hard time as she turned around and bent over. One hand went to brace herself against the counter. The other flipped up her skirt.

A red buttplug stuck out of her shapely rear end. And a matching vibrator was buried in her pussy. She wasn't wearing any panties.

"How long have they been in?" Katie asked. Her hand reached out and gently caressed Mimi's firm backside.

"Since this morning, Mistress," Mimi replied softly.

"Very good," the redhead patted her approvingly. "Where is the control?"

"In my purse, Mistress."

"Get it for me."

Mimi stood, her skirt falling back down. She took one step before Katie struck her across the ass with the metal spatula in her hand.

"No, slave!" she thundered, striking her again. "You do not walk when I give you a command! Slaves crawl!"

With a look that was something between abject terror and absolute pleasure, Mimi fell to her knees and crawled on her hands and knees over to the kitchen table where her purse was.

Katie and I exchanged a wicked glance. My redheaded wife was once the most demure and sexually unadventurous of the four of us. But over the last eleven years she had awakened and embraced her sexuality. She reveled in pleasure, both giving and receiving.

Of my wives, Leah is the most sexually submissive. In our everyday lives, Melinda is clearly the alpha female of our group, but in bed, she can be either the top or the bottom, depending on how she feels that day, although she likes the rough games the least. Katie loves to be in control. When we were still two couples, she and Leah complimented each other perfectly.

We're not into super-hardcore BDSM, but we like to play some bondage games every now and then. When she gets into one of her moods, Katie rules the roost among the girls. The other two call her "Mistress Katya" and they alternately hate and love her creativity in bed.

I'm a lousy sub. We tried it once or twice and it's just not something I could ever get into. I think that was part of the charm of this adventure for the girls. Geoff would let them . . . no, he would beg them . . . to do things to him that I would never allow.

In turn, Mimi says she is a lot like Melinda. That is, she often likes to be in control, but sometimes wants to play the other role. In that, Geoff cannot do. Like Leah, he just doesn't have it in him. So we made a deal.

The girls would get to have their way with Geoff, and I would get to have my way with Mimi.

Not a bad trade, huh?

Mimi slinked back over to us, the wireless transmitter for the vibrator in her mouth. She lay it at Katie's feet, not daring to look up.

"You learn quickly, slave," Katie said, showering a bit of praise on her new sexual toy. Katie bent over and caressed Mimi's cheek. Her next words even sent a chill through my spine. "Remember your place, Yesmine, and I will reward you. Cross me and you will beg for mercy."

A flash of anticipation and pleasure shone in Mimi's eyes. Her mouth practically started to water and I could almost smell her sex creaming. "Yes, Mistress."

"Now go back downstairs and spend your last hours as a free woman," Katie said, drawing Mimi to her feet.

Her legs shaking, Mimi walked to the door that led downstairs. She gave us one final look. It was part frustration. Part exhilaration. Part anticipation. Mimi jumped when Katie pressed the button on the control. The button that started the vibrator buried within Mimi's pussy. Then she turned and went down the steps, her long dark hair waving as she tried to keep her balance.

"Do you really think they've really gone a week without fucking?" Katie mused, the remote control turning over in her hand.

"I'd say so," I chuckled. "Considering that she almost came all over our kitchen when you smacked her tits."

"That was pretty hot, wasn't it?"

"Hell, yes, 'Mistress'," I said, my lip curling up into and pernicious grin.

"I should make you call me that all weekend."

"We've been through that already," I took a step towards her. Her body stiffened for just a second, then she folded into my grasp. I snaked one hand up behind her neck and pulled on her hair. Katie gasped and stuck her chest out, her throat exposed for me. I bit her just behind the ear. "Haven't we?"

"Yes, Master."

*************

A little while later, the twelve of us were sitting around the table just off the kitchen. The kids had their choice of mac and cheese or what the adults were having. Only Kaylee opted for the "grown up" meal: grilled chicken Caesar salad.

Eating is always an adventure in our house, although with two extra sets of eyes to watch the kids, things were a little easier. We talked and laughed with our friends. Tiffany and Jeremy were smart and polite. Our kids were generally good.

Soon enough, the children asked to be excused. Kaylee and Tiffany took their plates to the sink; we would clean up after the little ones. We all adjourned to the downstairs play room; not all of us were finished eating, but the space down there is large enough that we can keep an eye on everyone and the kids won't feel like they are cooped up somewhere they don't want to be.

The six adults talked about things adults usually talk about: money, jobs, vacations, etc. Much of this conversation we had when we met up in Georgia, but now Mimi wanted to know more about us, especially Leah.

My brunette wife is a local celebrity of sorts. One of the reasons we settled in Asheville is because of the thriving community of artists. She is a painter of some local renown and because our lifestyle permits it, she owns a gallery that features not only her own work, but other local artists as well. In addition, she has a recurring art segment on one of the local television stations and is a part-time reporter for them as well. She used to work full-time, but like the other girls has cut back lately owing to the pregnancy.

Katie couldn't keep her eyes off Mimi. There seemed be an electricity between the two of them. Everyone else at the table saw it, too.

"So are you guys happy to almost be over the 'terrible twos'?" Geoff asked when his wife excused herself from the couch.

"They actually haven't been too bad," Melinda said. "Kaylee was worse at their age."

"Really?" Geoff's eyebrow shot up.

"These three are actually pretty good. Bryan is the most laid-back kid you'll ever meet," my wife explained. "He has his moments, but all in all, he's a lot like his dad. He just goes with whatever flow he finds. We've only had Gwen and Gabi for a little over a year and I think they've finally adjusted to life with us."