Loving Claire Pt. 05

Joyce pushed him down on the bed and provided kisses as she removed his trousers. "The ladies decided you and I should be part of the new concrete house, with our own little apartment."

She stood, dropping the summery dress, under which there was only bare skin. "You have your choice of a quick swim in the lap pool, or a leisurely lunch with Elliot and the others, or you may have me!"

George was not totally dumb. "When do we need to return?"

"Your assistant said that you are good for at least two days."

Pulling her into his lap, he growled, "So, actually, I get all three of my choices..."

His erection was thrusting eagerly upward between them and Joyce realized her Dean was enjoying the surprise and enjoying being back in control.

"George, you can't right now. The women are coming through that secret panel over there in moments!"

She had hardly finished telling him of the problem when his cock was invading her, along with the arrival of Claire and Elise.

"Oh, he is being bad. I am filled with cock!"

Behind the clients in the narrow passage were Aimee, and Annette, with Fergie in her arms.

George was providing gentle upthrusts and Joyce was blushing pinker and pinker in response.

Aimee asked Annette, "Young one, you are learning the uses of the pied a terre?"

"Oui, Madame, although usually the woman being entertained is the mistress, not the spouse."

Everyone laughed and Joyce's body chose that moment to give up a wailing orgasm.

"Oh no, this is so embarrassing!"

Claire marched over and kissed both of them. "It is no such thing. You are properly christening this fine little space. Since you are busy, we will just continue through the other passage to the pool and you may join us when sufficient loving has occurred."

Joyce pounded on George's chest and stated emphatically, "No mistresses at this location." She pulled him over her and said, "Now, fuck me properly."

A hard yank on my cock brought me back from pleasant daydreams. "Elliot! Why are you lying there? We have duties. You can chase pussy another time!"

Distantly, we heard "Maman!" as Fergie was taken into the shower with his mother.

A little later, as I pummeled the clients, a still damp Aimee handed my son to me. He was starting to walk and liked to stand on my chest and practice his dual vocabularies. "Papa, breakfast?"

I hesitated, petite dejeuner always seemed awkward, so breakfast it would be. "Oui."

In minutes, we were all out and dressed. The quartet plus one, now with its own LLP with offices in Fairfax, was in motion for another busy day.

One of my contributions to raising Fergie was dealing with his breakfast and the accompanying mess. He especially liked colored Cheerios and sat in his high chair segregating them by color. Those whose color he liked today went in his mouth. Those on the bad list went on the floor with a giggle. I waged guerilla warfare, putting Cheerios from the floor in my mouth and making "like" noises. This didn't work for long, because he realized we were having a game and he yelled, "Papa, yes!"

On sunny mornings, we took an after breakfast walk to the horses. Right now, he was still on my shoulders, but soon would be walking outdoors. Recently, Aimee had taken him from my arms and placed him on the saddle in front of her. After a few moments of bewilderment about the large animal he was on, Fergie yelled and gurgled in happiness. The kid was born to ride, I thought.

"You are still okay about collecting Juliette?" Aimee had a seminar talk to give in Berkeley and had delegated her mother's pickup at SFO to me. Actually, Grand-Mere and I got along fine. She told me my French was atrocious, and I threatened an instant attack. She and Fergie were completely bonded, and chattered in French at a mile a minute.

"At least," she said, "he has command of his mother's tongue!"

Looking at my brilliant and passionate wife, I nodded. "Enjoy your talk. Juliette and I will manage."

She reached between my legs and squeezed. "You keep this in your pants. The last time she was here, she almost got an Elliot cock treatment!"

I pressed her against the nearest wall. "She is a widow and free to join with whomever she pleases. What are my instructions?"

"You are so bad. How am I to know? You already keep three women happy."

I had a sudden idea. "I will make you a deal. When, after sufficient gin, she makes a move on me, I respond with male aggressiveness, but in her ear, I whisper, "The other women insist on watching!"

"Oh merde! She will have a fit. Forty-six years old and riding a big cock in front of her daughter and friends?"

"What about Annette? Have you been doing her behind my back? You are going to subject three Porteneuve women to your awful lust?"

I turned her back to my front, taking a firm grip and whispering, "Speaking of cocks, any more teasing and you aren't going to Berkeley, you are headed back to the bedroom!"

Annette came around the corner and saw what was happening. "Elliot, she must go. I am riding with her."

I gestured the sweet young thing to us. "Le chat, she accused me of lusting after you!"

"That is nice to hear. My boyfriend at home has dumped me. Will she allow Annette to be your little kitten?"

They were both after me, hissing and laughing and pulling my hair between kisses. I paddled behinds and sent them to the door.

Eventually, I was out the door myself, headed west to Olema for a client visit. A young guy who had inherited a fabulous piece of property overlooking the ocean from a bluff, wanted to talk about a concrete structure set into the ground that had some architectural integrity and did not ruin the view for others.

Elliot, I said to myself, you are reaping the rewards of hard work and good luck. Others might be jealous, but is there something wrong with that?

The voice in my head said, "Stick with what you know. Do good architecture. Let others worry about moral judgments."

I came around a curve to see crashing surf on a bright sunny day. There was a big smile on my face.

The End.