It's been a while since my last installment. Life, distractions, the Universe and stuff. You know. But Jamie and The Crew and I are back. And naked as usual. Most of the time. This chapter builds on the previous ones, so you'll probably want to review them. Naked yourself, if logistically possible.
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I knew my mother had already been and gone when I woke up. There was a sheet and blanket pulled up and over me, just like when I was six. My stereo had been turned off along with my reading and writing lamp. The clothes I had tossed aside when I walked through the door the night before had been folded neatly and laid on the ottoman, along with my Mud Hens shirt which I clearly remembered hanging on one of the moose's antlers over the fireplace...just to jerk her chain. The notebook I'd left lying open on purpose for her to read was closed and back on the stand beside my recliner. The empty Rolling Rock bottle was missing, as was the left over twenty dollars from Clam Shak. It was her money after all. She knew I wouldn't keep it, especially after my dad roped her into that sucker bet over Hannah.
She had even made coffee. Her empty cup was in the sink. The rest was waiting for me when I got up. I estimated the time to be ten in the morning or thereabouts. Sunlight was streaming through the east side windows. I didn't bother showering. Yet. I just relieved myself, grabbed some coffee and went outside. My morning wood showed no signs of subsiding, but I was still too fuzzy to care. Mom and Sharon were laying out a late breakfast or a snack of some sort at the picnic table under the willow tree. Nibbling and chatting. Naked as me. Big surprise.
Whenever I see them together, especially nude, I'm amazed at how much they look alike. Facial features. Quirks in their expressions. The wave of their hair. The big full breasts. The way their hips flare gently out from a narrower waist. Even the shape and display of the folds that usually stand out like the outer edges of floral petals from the crevice of their mons. The dark brown edges which match the variegated dark brown of their nipples. My mom is shorter and thicker in build, but both are gorgeous...to me...and neither has sags of any kind anywhere. Not even the little tummy paunch that some women begin to develop approaching age forty or so. The degree to which Scooter resembles them is amazing. Taller than my mom, shorter than hers, with adorable breasts that are by far the smallest of the three, but still stamped from the same mold.
They waved and motioned me over. I checked my cock and stayed where I was for a while. Content to watch them. I wasn't quite awake enough yet for human interaction anyway. I leaned against the door jamb, sipping and savoring my first caffeine of the morning and waiting for it to kick in. Enjoying the feel of the sun on my skin and the background sounds of the birds and the farm animals.
I stepped back inside long enough to refill my cup before finally joining them under the willow. They knew I'd surface eventually. There was a coffee carafe on the table along with a plate for me. Sharon had made up an oatmeal cake with coconut caramel glaze and prepped a big bowl of fresh chopped fruit from the garden orchard. Two of my major weaknesses. Each of them soundly kissed me good morning and wrapped me up in happy boob crushing hugs. Each smiled, pretending to ignore their casual contact with my still swollen member. Our family is like that. I thought back to the short busty Vicki in Rochester. She would fit right in.
We sat at the picnic table and ate. They were discussing the canning progress and wondering if Dad would be up for sweet corn and BBQ ribs for supper. He was still sleeping. The ride from New York, even when treatments went well, took a lot out of him. He wouldn't get much of his stamina back for week or more.
For the most part, I simply drank coffee and ate and woke up, half listening, picking up details on doctor's reports I hadn't yet heard. When their conversation turned to Sharon's descriptions of Oscar and "that adorable little Kelly", I refilled my cup from their carafe, grabbed another piece of cake, and stood, thanking Sharon for breakfast and Mom for picking up. I had no intention of letting myself get sucked into where that one was probably going.
As I turned to walk away, Sharon called, "So Jamie, when are we going to get to meet the Grape Girl?" Too late. Her eyes were on my cock. It jumped. My mother stifled a snicker.
"I'm going back to the barn now," I stated firmly. "I've got some calls to make before I wash all the highway bugs off the Buick."
"Be sure to call Laurel and let her know you're conscious," Sharon laughed. "She phoned the house twice this morning already and I told her to let you sleep in."
"I thought she'd call my phone," I said. "I didn't hear it ring."
"Oh, I was reading your story and you were sleeping so soundly I turned the ringer off so it wouldn't disturb you," Mom admitted. "And as for picking up, it takes forty-five seconds. You almost never wear clothes. Why you drop them and leave them lay where they fall is simply beyond me. Just because you live in a barn..." I was walking away so her voice trailed off, but even after I got back inside my barn house, I heard a few random phrases, spoken more loudly for emphasis. Something about "that poor moose" and "Hueys spraying chemical", and "Colin bet me twenty dollars that..." and "a cluster of grapes for goodness sakes..." I needed more caffeine!
Scooter picked up on the first ring. "Jamie, thank God. I've got so much to tell you. What are you doing today? Can you talk if I come over? Or can you come over here? I don't want to talk on the phone. I missed you so much. You won't believe what's going on. Can Marcie and Petey and I come out to the farm. Bobbi's missing. Is Uncle Colin OK? We won't bother him. I promise. Is my mom still there? Why weren't you answering your phone? We didn't want to bother you in Rochester. We've been looking all over and need your brain."