The morning after my orgy with the missionaries I was sore. My pussy was sore from being fucked again and again by their big cocks, and my legs, my arms, my shoulders, even my back was tired and sore from all of the exotic positions those boys had bent me into as we screwed. "My god, what an afternoon!" I said as I rose from my bed and stretched. Then I laughed. "That sure beats being depressed about my husband's death."
I felt good. Really good. I had tried Hervé's seduction technique and it had worked. It turned out that all I had to do was ask, in the right sort of way. Of course I realized that not everyone was going to be as readily available as Alex and Andrew were. But, nonetheless, Hervé's approach had worked, and I was certain I wanted to try it again.
I didn't hear from either of the boys for two weeks, and frankly I didn't expect that I would hear from them ever again. But to my surprise one afternoon the doorbell rang, and when I opened the door there was Alex. Was he back for more, and if so where was his wingman? It turned out he wanted something different that proved to be very interesting.
We exchanged pleasantries and a brief hug that he pulled away from before I could take it any further.
"I was wondering if I could ask a favor," he said.
"Sure, what?"
"Well, my girlfriend is coming to visit next week, and she needs a place to stay."
"I didn't know you boys could have family visits during your mission?"
"Ahhh . . . We aren't supposed to, but . . ."
"I know," I said. "Don't ask me about the rules. Just ask me about what I need. Right?"
"Uhh . . . yeah," he responded with a smile. "Something like that."
"And how old is your girlfriend?" I asked. "This is Laura, right?"
"Yeah, it's Laura and she's 20."
"Do her parents know about this little visit?"
"Oh god no. They would have a fit. They don't like me. They think I'm too much like Andrew."
"Oh, so you're the good twin and Andrew is the bad twin?"
Alex grinned broadly and nodded his head. "Most people think so," he said.
"But not Laura's parents?"
"No. I guess not."
Then he went on to explain that Laura's parents thought she would be staying with her cousin in Oakland, but they wouldn't be calling to check because even though Laura and her cousin were good friends, the two groups of parents were not on speaking terms.
He launched into a description of why the two sets of parents weren't on speaking terms, "See, Laura's mother used to date her cousin's father. Then he married her sister, but he was still secretly meeting Laura's mother on the side until her father found out and then . . ."
I stopped him. "Too much information," I said (and too many pronouns, the English teacher in me thought). "I just want to be sure that she can come here, and the police won't be looking for her as a runaway or a missing person."
"Oh no problem. Laura and I have it all thought through."
That had a dubious ring to it, but I was hoping the arrangement would end up with me having another round of sex with Alex or Andrew or both of them, and besides, after everything they had told me about Laura, I kind of wanted to meet her. My lust was overcoming my good sense.
"How long will she be here?" I asked.
"Only three days."
"Okay," I said, trying to sound as reluctant as I could, which was a little hard because I kept thinking about how good the sex had been with the two brothers and hoping this would be an entry into another round with them. It's always amazing how easily lust can overcome good sense.
We spent a few minutes talking about the logistical details. When she would arrive, how she would get to my place from the Oakland airport, when Alex was going to be available to see her, and how sneaky he would have to be to get away with it.
Finally I asked, "Will Andrew be here?"
"I don't know for sure. I haven't told him."
"Oh, I see." More avenues for difficulty, I thought. Still, I wanted to meet Laura and who knew, I might wind up in a foursome with Alex, Laura, and Andrew. That thought made my pussy twitch.
Alex was beginning to fidget. He looked at his watch and said, "I have to go now. They'll be looking for me if I don't show up."
"Okay, get going," I said.
I followed him to the door and as he stepped through it, I reached out and swatted him on the fanny. He turned and looked back, "What was that for . . .?" he started to ask but stopped abruptly when he saw that I had both hands under my tits and I was holding them out to him. "Oh . . ." he said blushing. He paused for a moment and then said, "No, I really gotta go." Then he was quickly out the door, on his bike and headed off down the street.
"My, my, my," I said to myself. "This will be interesting."
* * * * * *
It was about 5:30 on the following Tuesday afternoon. I was standing at my kitchen sink looking out the window when I saw an Uber car drive up. A young lady got out and took a small carryon bag from the driver. As he drove away she stood at the curb fiddling with her cellphone, presumably to confirm the charge for the driver.
"Right on time," I said aloud (I had gotten over my depression, but not my habit of thinking aloud when by myself). "So this is Laura."
She was on the porch by the time I got to the door, but I opened it before she could ring or knock.
"You must be Laura," I said.
"Yes . . . and you're Alice?" she had a sweet soft voice. It was just lovely.
"Yes, please come in."
As she stepped through the door I was wondering just how much about me Alex had told her. I'm sure she was wondering the same thing. Alex knew a good deal about each of us that I was sure neither of us would voluntarily share with a stranger.
My first impression was that this young woman was drop dead gorgeous. Not in the movie star glamorous style. She was the girl next door. The one that makes men's heads turn wherever she goes. She was about five-five or so. Her thick, lustrous hair fell not quite to her shoulders with a soft curl. It framed her face beautifully. The color was a soft brown with shades of blonde and pale red. She had big round eyes with thick lashes and neatly shaped eyebrows that were the same shade of soft brown as her hair. Her large round eyes were . . . I guess I would call it hazel. They were almost green. Her make up was subdued but just perfect. I could see why the boys had fallen for her. She was one of those women who men fall in love with before they ever get past their first look at her face.
She was carefully dressed in a tan skirt that fell to just a bit below her knees. It wasn't tight, but it still accentuated her round soft-looking ass. What I could see of her legs below the skirt were perfect, not fashion model emaciated, but muscular and shapely all the way down to her low heels. She wore a creamy lightweight blouse that looked like it should be translucent, but wasn't (I don't know how some fabrics do that—hinting that they will let you see what's beneath, but showing nothing but perhaps shape). The blouse beautifully draped her good-sized breasts that stood high and firm on her chest. It was open at the neck, but not so far as to be anything but tasteful.
Over all the effect was gorgeous—not Marilyn Monroe gorgeous, but as close as she could get to it without slipping into the tawdry look that Hollywood uses to sell films today.
I led her into my living room and said, "Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?"
She sat on the edge of the couch leaning forward just a bit, her knees tightly together and turned to one side. Now I could see a demure string of pearls peaking out from the opening at the neck of her blouse.
"Please," she responded to my query.
"I have iced tea, cola, and I think some lemonade," I said. Then after a pause, I added, "Or if you would like, I also have some white wine."
She pursed her lips for just a moment as she considered her response. Then as she reached her conclusion she discreetly licked her upper lip with a quick flick of her tongue. My god, I thought. Even her tongue is beautiful.
She smiled and said, "I'd like that. A glass of wine would be nice. It was a hectic flight."
As I started to the kitchen, I said, "Oh and there is a washroom down the hall on your right if you want to freshen up."
I heard, "Thank you," as I left the room.
So, I thought, as I opened a chilled bottle of wine and retrieved glasses from a cabinet in the kitchen, she looks like the good little girl her church wants her to be, but . . . maybe not. Perhaps she is just like the boys. Mmmm. I hope so, I thought, although at that point I was not at all sure what I was hoping for beyond something hot and sexy involving the boys . . . or if not the boys, maybe just with Laura. Oh that's a nasty thought I told myself as I carried the wine and glasses from the kitchen. Should I try to seduce her? Another opportunity to try Hervé's technique? But she's barely older than the kids I teach at the high school, I told myself. Still . . .
When I returned from the kitchen I set the wine and the glasses on a coffee table, poured a glass for each of us, and took a seat on the couch at the opposite end from where Laura had been sitting.
Laura returned a few moments later and resumed her seat at the end of the couch opposite me. She kicked off her shoes, picked up her wine glass, and took a long drink.
"Oh that's good," she said. "I wish we could have wine at home." She pulled her legs up and tucked them beneath her. I could see more of her thighs than before. They were as shapely as her lower legs.
"Your family doesn't drink?" I asked.
"Not permitted."
"You mean by the Church?"
She nodded.
