Marilouise Ch. 03

'Drea was busy as we walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Baby," she said, turning away from working the bowl of eggs she was whipping with a fork, taking the two steps to me and kissing me, a kiss that would have promised things to come, and to cum I suppose, if she hadn't been wearing a steel belt.

"Good morning, Honey," she said, turning away from me to take Lulu into a similar kiss.

I watched as my wife molded her body against my daughters and ran her hands up and down Lulu's big back to wind up on her ass, squeezing a little before releasing her and saying, "Sit, now, let 'Drea feed you."

We sat then, Lulu and I, facing each other across the kitchen table.

"No," 'Drea said, smiling and pulling out the chair in the middle of the long side of the small table, "You sit here, Master of the House."

I moved as she directed, and recognized from my occasional forays into erotica that she had set it up so our threesome would be in the FMF configuration with the male, me, in the honor position between the two women.

It hit me, and I chuckled.

"What?" Lulu asked.

"I was just thinking how amazing it is to be sitting here with you two and the only stitch, if it can be called a stitch, of clothes between us is a steel chastity belt that my wife says will stay on until I knock my daughter up," I said, snorting between words because the humor, the insanity, the surrealism, and the pure fantasy of the situation was getting to me.

She giggled.

'Drea said, over her shoulder as she pushed the lever to start toast toasting, "Should I get dressed?"

Before I could say, "No," Marilouise asked, "Should I get dressed?"

I laughed then. Residual alcohol and pot were part of it, of course, but down at its core was the pure, unadulterated joy as I looked into the future.

I stood and went to 'Drea, smiled, got to my knees, kissed the roll of her muffin top where the belt cut deeply, looked up and said, "Please, don't get dressed."

She giggled, patted my head, and turned back to her cooking.

I knee walked to my daughter, took her hand, turned it over, kissed her palm, looked up, and said, "Please, don't get dressed."

She giggled and said, "Welllllllllll, if that's what you really want."

"Sit," 'Drea said as she started setting breakfast on the table.

I chuckled, sat, and had what has turned out to be the single most interesting conversation of my life.

Without trying to recreate the dialogue, it was this -

Andrea had always wanted children. When we were dating and starting to get serious about our future, one of the things that had cemented our, well, our bond, was our mutual interest in a big family. I had started with a basketball team as the goal. She upped it to a baseball team, and then we settled on a football team with some substitutes as a distinct possibility. But then, when Marilouise came along, there were complications. A placental abruption almost had me burying both of them, and only our proximity to the local hospital saved them. The emergency Caesarian Section brought Marilouise safely into the world, all eight pounds, nine ounces of her. But afterward, in one of those accidents that happen from time to time, an infection developed, got away from the staff, and when we left the hospital, my bride had a hysterectomy scar to match her C-section scar.

So, rather than a team, we had a solo star.

Marilouise, it turned out, shared her mother's maternal instinct. She knew, from her first period and the budding of her breasts that followed, that she was born to have babies. "I'm a natural brood mare," she said, standing and doing a slow turn showing off her big tits and wide hips, "and I want the best man I know to be the father of my children," she finished, kissing me. Lulu and 'Drea had talked about it in that serious way of mothers and daughters, and when 'Drea knew Lulu was set on this course, she accepted and supported the decision.

Here I was then, bracketed by two women, and both wanted me to start fathering children on my daughter. It struck me as a mighty fine idea.

But more than that, they read the things I wrote under my nom de porn, David Witheld, and said they were anxious to try it all.

My dick stirred, thinking about it, as I wiped the final residue of bacon grease from the plate with my triangle of toast as the blotter.

I grinned, stood, my incipient erection showing my interest, and held my hand to my daughter.

"You, Bride-o-Mine," I said, patting 'Drea on the ass, "can join us when you're done in here."

Back in the bedroom, I stood Lulu on the rug at the foot of the bed and just looked. On that level that had taken videos of her in race cars, at gymnastics meets, on prom night, and at graduation, I was still taken with the young woman at whom I looked. She was so different from that bundle of sinew and energy that could make a tumbling pass that defied gravity, it was like I was looking at a completely different being.

And in a way, of course, I was.

This was a young woman, not my little girl. She was, as you might read in one of those romance novels my grandmother had devoured by that shopping bag full, "In the full bloom of youthful womanhood."

She stood, proud and calm, as I just looked at her, taking her in. Last night was still a bit blurry. There had been a lot of pot and alcohol, and this morning I was still a little muzzy with leftover, unmetabolized residue of last night. But now, with a full belly, coffee, and a night's sleep, I could appreciate my daughter.

And she was worth appreciating. Cute rather than pretty, with her round face and her button nose, she had blossomed after she quit training several hours a day. She had filled out, and filled out nicely. There was a hint of a second chin forming, a suggestion of fat pads on the back of her arms, and the tiniest bit of, well, "pudginess" is a good word, to her fingers.

Being a male, though, it was her breasts that drew my eyes. They were big enough that they sagged under their own weight, and as I watched, her oversized areolas tightened, pushing small, almost boyish nipples forward.

I held my arm out, forefinger pointed at the floor, and twirled it in the universal "turn around" gesture.

I wondered how my skinny little girl had become this voluptuous brood mare.

She was right, of course. She was very obviously made to have children. I pictured those big hips as she got well into her second trimester spread, and remembered that Andrea hadn't been as big across the beam, as they say, as she was now until the hormones really kicked in, preparing her to give birth.

"Okay," I said, moving behind her and pressing against her, tracing the shape of her waist with my palms until I cupped the softness of her incipient belly just below her belly button, "you're beautiful and we'll make beautiful children."

"Now?" she asked, giggling, leaning back and tilting her head to the side, offering her neck to my lips.

"Lulu," I said, and she turned suddenly, stopping me with a finger to my lips.

"Let's talk about that," she said, smiling.

"About?" I asked around the finger on my lips, not understanding.

She met my eyes, very serious now.

"Call me Mary," she said, "or even Marilouise. But don't you think Lulu is a bit much for us now? It makes me feel like you should strap me into a quarter-midget or video me at a meet and, Daddy, I don't think I can bring this big ass," she patted her hips, "around on a roundoff/back handspring combination any more."

"Lu..., Mary, I didn't know..." and I trailed off.

She smiled.

"Daddy," she said, and kissed me, one of those kisses on the lips that only a lover, not a daughter, would ever give. "I've thought about this a lot. Try this experiment."

"Experiment?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "an experiment."

"Okay," I said, curious now, "what's the experiment?"

She grinned.

"Say, 'I want you, Mary,'" she said.

I smiled, gave her my most "soulful" gaze, and said, "I want you, Mary," and I meant it.

She kissed me, that intimate, man-woman or even husband-wife kiss.

"Now," she said, "say, 'I want you, Lulu."

I chuckled because I understood. Lulu was my pet name for her, but it was the name I gave my little girl when she was struggling with things like "basgetty" and had absolutely no chance at something like linoleum or aluminum. Even her name gave her trouble, coming out as something like Mahloo, which I, of course, turned into Lulu.

"I want you, Mary," I said, smiling.

"Oh?" she asked, "And what do you want, Daddy?"

I indulged her game for several minutes while she had me saying things that were more and more graphic.

"I want to fuck you, Mary," I said and she smiled.

"I want to knock you up, Marilouise," I said, and she squirmed prettily.

"Once you're knocked up, Mary," I said, "I want to fuck you up the ass."

Things like that.

"And I want all of that, Daddy," she said, "so let's get started."

She crawled up onto the bed, giving me a wonderful view of that big ass and tidy pussy before she laid on her side, patted the mattress, and crooked her finger, beckoning me.

I crawled up, slowly, stopping to kiss her hip and inhale her womanscent before stretching out beside her and kissing her, a true, lingering, man-woman/husband-wife kiss.

We made love like that for some timeless time. The kisses were full of passion and desire. Her body felt soft and round under my hands. That wonderful womanscent of her excitement filled my nostrils and saturated my olfactory system.

But I didn't get hard. I felt the tingling and a slight swelling, but I didn't come erect.

I was in the arms of a beautiful, and she was beautiful right then, her face flushed with her excitement, her hair a mess, her eyes big and full of desire, woman, but my damn body wouldn't get busy.

She giggled softly and pushed me away enough to meet my eyes.

"It's okay, Daddy," she said, reaching down and touching where I was soft, "we know what to do."

I suppose I had a funny look on my face, and she giggled before calling out, "Andrea, a little help, please."

She must have been waiting in the hall.

As soon as Mary had the words out, Andrea came into the bedroom and got into bed, her hand on my hip and her breasts against my back. The warm steel of the belt felt odd, but oddly sensual.

"Let your fantasy go," she whispered, nuzzling my neck at my hairline.

"Let your fantasy go,' Mary, I was thinking of her as Mary now, whispered, kissing me.

I was living my fantasy. I was the meat in a sandwich between two beautiful women who love me and who I love.

But my damn dick stayed soft.

"Welllllllllllllll," 'Drea said, "I know how to take care of that."

Her hand moved slowly down my back until I felt her fingertips lightly trace my perineum, that space on my body between my asshole and my scrotum.

I felt my skin tighten as she raised goosebumps along the way.

But I stayed soft.

I felt the pressure and knew what was coming as her thumb found my anus and began slowly penetrating me.

There was that secret pleasure men don't acknowledge. That little rush that I always thought the urologist recognized as he pulled the glove up with a snap and then checked my prostate.

"There we go," 'Drea said, using that same tone she used if Lulu managed to get the spoonful of pureed carrots in without wearing it or when she made it through the night without wetting the bed.

I felt the tingle in my groin getting stronger and my erection start to grow.

"That's good, Honey," she said, that wonderful thumb gently massaging me, bringing me to full erection, "Now use your mouth to get Mary ready."

Part of my mind thought, "This ain't one of my stories."

But I didn't hesitate as I kissed my way down Lu... Mary's body, and buried my face in that thick muff.

She was hot and thick and salty. Her pheromone-laden scent filled my lungs, and I got a little high, as if I had smoked some very good pot.

"That's right, Baby," 'Drea was saying, her thumb giving me just enough pressure to make me hard, "get her ready. We need to knock her up so you can take this fucking belt off of me."

"How long," I asked, pulling my face away from my daughter's pussy and turning to face my wife, "have you two been planning this?"

She smiled her happy smile.

"A couple of years now," she said, "Since I realized I wasn't going to talk her out of it."

"Like I had to do a lot of convincing," Mary said, smiling.

'Drea laughed and said, "Just lie back and spread your legs, girl. I think I have him about ready."

Mary giggled, said, "Yes, Mommy," and rolled onto her back. She grinned at me and pulled her knees back until they touched her nipples, offering herself in the most complete way a woman can offer herself.

"Go on, David," 'Drea said, "Give her the gift. Start that baby we all want."

It was a bit awkward since 'Drea and I had to move together in a unit so she could keep her thumb busy, stimulating me, keeping me hard.

But we managed.

My 50-year-old body might not be up to this sort of exercise, but 'Drea's thumb was the perfect encourager.

"That's right, Baby," 'Drea said, using her left hand to guide me while her right thumb kept stimulating me.

"That's right, Daddy," Mary said, adjusting her hips slightly to accept me.

I believe that this was when our daughter was conceived, on my first morning in my new family, my wife's thumb up my ass, stimulating my prostate, and my daughter telling how much she loved me, how anxious she was to have our baby.

"Hold still, both of you," 'Drea said, "let me take care of you."

I settled onto Mary, my lips finding hers, the kiss a lingering thing full of love and joy but no urgency. There was no hurry. I think we all felt that. This was perfect intimacy, a sharing among the three of us that none of us wanted to end.

I was reveling in what 'Drea was doing inside of me, but also in the light touches as she caressed my back. But above all, it was her soft words of encouragement and love that got to me so deeply.

I was reveling in the sensation of Mary under me, surrounding me, her kisses so tender and loving, the first rush of passion past. She was whispering "I love you, Daddy," over and over, her breathing getting harsher as her pure desire for my seed grew.

I had an instant to wonder how my wife got so damn good at this. While Mary and I shared our kisses and our whispered "I love yous," 'Drea took me to the edge and held me there. I was so hard I was throbbing, I could feel each heartbeat in my cock, and she held me there, her thumb gentle, her fingers light.

When I came, with Mary hissing "Yessssssssssssssssssssssss," it was that perfect instant that every man recognizes. It was that moment of purest pleasure, the point where ejaculation starts, and from there, every man knows it's downhill. But this time there wasn't the sudden hard contraction of tiny muscles, the hard squirt that signalled the end. I didn't "squirt" into her, I poured into her, and it kept going on.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't move.

My entire being was reduced to the sensation as I filled my daughter and then felt her overflow around me.

'Drea's voice barely registered as she said in her best bedroom voice, "That's right, Baby, fill her up with the Gift. Give her that baby we all want. Don't stop yet."

This was beyond the physical pleasure of sex. Hell, this was almost a religious experience, although I had eschewed religion years before.

This was a perfect merging of three people in love.

And it WAS love.