Dear Dirty Diary Ch 11

Dear Dirty Diary,

I woke up the following Saturday morning with a terribly stiff back. Doug and Louise were already working on the enclosure for the hot tub we all missed so much. Since neither of my lovers was around to soothe my aching muscles, I had to look after myself. I stretched and limbered up without much success, so I took a hot shower then returned to try my special back exercises. I spread my bath towel across the middle of the bed then kneeled on it. I bent over, placed my hands flatly on the mattress. I crept up with my knees to curve my spine back as tightly as I could, closed my eyes and held my position until the pain faded away. After a few minutes, I pushed myself up off my elbows then did several rolling crouches forward and back to finish loosening up my lower back.

The harder I pushed, the more I felt my breasts sway forward and back, so I peeked over into my vanity mirror to see what they looked like. As I pitched back and forth, I studied the dynamics of my body in motion. When I crouched back, my hanging globes would surge forward then thrust apart slightly. When I rolled forward, my dangling boobs would swing back and thump against my ribs and when I over-compressed a squat, I could feel my bum touch down on my heels. After a few minutes of observation, I noticed an exploitable pattern of body motion.

I put on my robe and slippers and zipped down to Louise's in search of some items in her toy bag. I quickly returned with two pairs of eyeglasses cords, a nipple sucker and her long, wide-flanged base dildo. I slipped off my bathrobe, attached one end of each cord to my clit ring. Devilishly delightful thoughts swept through my brain as I tickled my button fat with excitement. I tickled a nipple then sucked it up with the bulb. Then I popped the sucker off and snared my doubly bloated teat with the glasses cord before it could shrink back down. I repeated the procedure on my other nipple with the second cord. I climbed back into bed, sat cross-legged and I tickled my favorite tender bit nicely erect.

Trembling with anticipation, I KY-lubed Louise's dildo, worked its knob just into my vagina then squatted down so its suction cup base dangled between my heels. I squeezed my heels together to grasp the dildo then let myself drop gently upon it. I felt the exaggerated folds of the foreskin washboard through my vulva. I bent over, touched my palms down on the mattress then crouched tightly back into my exercise position. Slowly at first, I surged back and forth on the dildo and when I loosened enough to slurp, I picked up the pace. The harder I thrust, the further my boobs swayed, but what I envisioned just wasn't happening. I tied a small knot in each cord then tried again. By the third try, I could feel that the cords were in perfect tautness and I realized the reward I was seeking.

Each time I crouched back down on the dildo, my boobs slapped against my rib cage and each time I lurched ahead up on the dildo, my breasts heaved ahead, pulled the cords taut and tugged my little ring. The sensations were so heavenly perfect and easy to achieve. Lurch backwards and pussy gets stuffed! Lunge ahead and tender bit gets jerked! In ten or eleven rocks, I had my bodily momentum perfectly synchronized. Ever the wide-eyed voyeur, I watched the perfection of it all. The slap of my breasts, the slurps of my pussy and this snorts from my nostrils all combined to make music to the ears of this horny housewife. Nine or ten minutes of the best exercise ever created left me with flushed cheeks and chest as I reached my crescendo! I was loose in the joints, loose in the pussy and ready to cut loose in the hot tub. I longed for those effervescent bubbles to tickle up the undersides of my floating breasts once more. To feel the pulsating power of the jets pummel my pussy into orgasm after orgasm like they did at the Marina was just the incentive I needed to get me into my work clothes and back down working in the basement.

We had beautiful sea-foam green flooring laid on the playroom floor. We had my exercise-bike room walls dry-walled and painted. Louise had just finished installing wardrobe mirrors on the head and both sidewalls of my private little workout domain as well as behind the hot tub. All that was really left was to finish the wiring and plumbing then install the plastic vapor-barrier wall Doug had constructed.

Be calm, my tingling pussy. Just a few more days and your exquisite abuse will return, my love.

In the days that followed we finished off the recreation room. During our celebratory dinner together, we agreed that Amy and Michelle's visit suggested other girlfriends out there might enjoy our house. We decided to advertise in lesbian magazines to entice readers who live within a five-hour drive of the house. We concluded that a catch phrase to publicize our lifestyle should be within the ad. Doug, of all people, rhymed out loud: Girlfriends in love? Curious and Alone? Our Secret's this haven, where you'll feel at home.

Simple and right to the point, we placed his motto in every ad, just above the phone number.

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The week after the hot tub was commissioned into service, the three of us agreed that we should have an Open House to announce the official opening of Our Little Secret. Louise invited the local Business Women's Association, the local Press, the Better Business Bureau and all her old girlfriends and school chums from Philipsburg. After the departure of all the business people in the late afternoon, we three were left with a dozen or so women, who weren't at all anxious to go home. Congratulatory wine bottles were opened, pizzas were delivered, toasts were made and card games were started. Euchre was the game of choice and four tables of cackling women had poor Doug's head in a spin. He kept their glasses topped up and their tummies full of pastries and chocolate as the party raged on.

In between hands, Louise offered a special tour of the basement playroom to whoever was interested. Like a Girl Guides leader, Louise led the entire group of delightfully tipsy women downstairs. Doug showed off his carpentry, Louise showed off her dance floor, with its mirrored ceiling ball and powerful sound system, and I showed off our brand new two passenger hot tub. In less than five minutes, two of Louise's friends had stripped down to their underwear and were lounging in the hot frothy bubbles.

Except for one little dear who wandered into my workout bike room, the other women were all dancing the "Hustle." Once inside, Sophie lifted her skirts and was pedaling merrily to the music. About the time the music stopped, her face became flushed and she appeared a little woozy. Doug offered to help her down off my bike to give her some fresh air. As she dismounted, a loud rattle noise rang out, and out of my bicycle seat, that shimmering wet spring-mounted dildo of Q's whipped back and forth. First there was a hush of concern as the way was cleared for wobbly-legged Sophie. But jouncing back and forth, the dildo beaconed all that saw it like a giant index finger welcoming them in. First one, then another entered my inner sanctum. Some squeezed Doug's contribution to my exercise routine, some slapped it back and forth, one bent down and sniffed it, but on a whole, the most of Louise's friends just raised their eyebrows a little then smiled knowingly to each other and filed back upstairs.

Eventually returning upstairs, I found everyone embroiled in fevered conversation. The spokeswoman for the group suddenly said, "We're all agreed then?"

The women all nodded in accord and she continued, "We, the Richelieu River Pirates Women's Support Group, give our blessing to Louise's new endeavor and welcome Louise's special friend Laura into our fold. We hereby submit that a weekly get together and games night be initiated and held here each week. We feel that our association could prosper within this grand old house and feel that our lives could all be enriched by the inventiveness of its unique staff."

All faces looked to Louise for a reply. I suppose the smiles on Doug's and my faces helped her answer come quickly. With a mock stern expression, Louise began, "We have a business to run here and I don't want all your foolishness annoying the paying guests, so I guess we'll have to make it a mid-week ritual then."

From then on, every Wednesday night thirteen women arrived at 7 pm for a hen party beyond all rhyme and reason. Everyone brought wine, goodies gossip and their libidos to the card tables. About 8:30, Sophie (who always arranged to be the odd player sitting out), quietly went down towards the washroom. The card playing continued without her, but during any hush in the raucous conversations, the clickety-click of my exercise bike echoed up though an old air grille in the corner of the dinning room. We listened intently during each lull and as the room grew quieter, unmistakably lewd squishy sound and the pants of impassioned breathing came from below.

Poor Doug! After about ten minutes of fevered pants, whimpers and moans I'd send him down to make sure she was OK. Returning back to the dining room, wobbly-legged and blushing madly, she unabashedly would announce to the next low-scoring that the bike was all warmed up and ready for action. Excellent players would deliberately blow an entire game to ensure their fifteen minutes on the bike. During refreshment breaks, talk would often center on riding and breathing. As the weeks went by, small talk lessened and ears craned to interpret each exerciser's unique bodily sounds. Between hands, critiques and technical suggestions were issued to improve upon rider's performance skills.

For a while I was concerned over my husband's feelings about having horny drunken women invading his domain each week, but he adapted quickly to the situation. Rather than hiding up in our apartment, he made our games night into his Jacuzzi night so he would be close by to anyone needing assistance. He became so helpful he was given honorary membership in the Richelieu River Pirates support group. I thought this novel and cute, but when he offered to adjust the handlebars crotch mirror for each of the ladies, I got more than a little concerned. I knew damned well that he loved every minute of it.

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Dear Dirty Diary,

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Louise advertised in Cornwall, Messina, Montreal, Plattsburg and Burlington newspapers and had brochures printed for the Cornwall travel bureau and outlet malls. Erin and Michael suggested they should put adds in This Week back home to draw people we knew down for visits. Within days of their ad, I received a request for lodgings in my own email address for the third weekend in September from some Whitby people. Given directions for our shortcut through the States, two weary twenty-something women arrived at our door shortly after lunch. We tried to contain our excitement as Louise welcomed our very first guests.

Louise registered Amy and Michelle (of the same last name) and showed them the guest rooms. The sisters chose the first room because they thought it might be quieter. An hour or so later, they came down to the kitchen more refreshed appearing and asked for some coffee. While I perked some, Louise gave them a tour of the main floor. Doug followed his nose down to the freshly brewed coffee, where Louise introduced he and I to our guests. As we sipped together at the dining room table, the two young women peeked at us frequently and whispered back and forth. They nodded eventually, complimented Louise on her coffee and then asked for refills.

Amy nudged Michelle impatiently until she looked directly at me and began, "You're not quite like we pictured you to be. You're thinner and softer looking than I pictured you. Amy figured Louise would be butchier than she is and we both thought Doug would be fatter and have more hair."

The three of us must have look utterly confused, so Amy continued: "Your ad in the paper caught my eye where it said about "Your hosts, Louise, Laura and Doug", and when I showed it to Michelle, she recognized your email address. We talked it over and thought it'd be neat to meet the people who stole away the last of our innocence!" Michelle looked at me as she said "I'm the one that emailed back your diary before we handed in your computer to the police."

Oh my God, I didn't know whether to hug her or run for cover, as the phrases " Damn you Laura!" and "Yours Hatefully" came to mind. Louise blushed, realizing who they were and what they knew about us. A numb sensation in my thighs signaled me that my legs were squeezed together way too tight. After a short period of uncomfortable silence, Doug began to pry with measured tact.

He began, "And how have the brothers dealt with your loss of innocence?"

Michelle replied, "Had a certain gullible person not decided that bald was beautiful and showed it to her drunken fisherman husband, who in turn loudly announced it to his drunken twin brother, who also discovered that bald was beautiful, they'd have never known about us."

Amy retaliated with: "You knew what was in Laura's journal long before you let me take it from you and start reading it! And it's not my fault that our perverted husbands spy on us kissing and groping each other. It's your husband that came up with the idea of having us do Show and Tell all the time!"

Louise interrupted their squabbling with, "Ladies, Ladies, regardless of how this change in your lives came about, has it been such a bad thing?"

Amy cooed, "Oh no, our husbands insist upon doing everything together and now Michelle and I have more to do now than sit around, get liquored up and bitch about them."

We all looked to reserved little Michelle for her views on the matter. She cautiously began, "I felt terrible after our first fling but after a week or two, the physical side-effects of my little lamb being sheared began to rule my every waking minute. Every time I walk or climb stairs, those pleasantly tickling sensations made everything else seem much less important. To make a long story short, now I spend so much time playing with myself or enticing someone else to play with it, that I've lost touch with my morals. I was brought up by a Sex is for making babies, mother and here I am now, doing all these Not for making babies, things with my sister-in-law, of all people, and I'm just at wit's end!"

I asked her if Amy was much of the problem, to which she snapped, "No, I'm the problem! But she sure doesn't help my guilt feelings much." I suggested from my experience that her sexual desire might lessen if she let her bush grow back in, to which she replied: "We've tried that and it helps, but every time we're alone together, we agree we miss the tickles. One thing leads to another and the next thing we know, we're naked in bed and massaging in skin cream after shaving each other's stubble."

Louise interrupted and asked, "Doesn't Amy have similar reservations about your affair?"

Amy answered "Sometimes, but when we try to clean up our act and be good little wives, whenever Michelle's lush body gets within touching range, I get right out of control and we're back at each other again."

Douglas, the Logical, suggested, "You know Michelle, you could push away Amy's advances if you really want to end your affair. As a child I was molested several times by my homosexual cousin, but I ended it eventually by refusing to play his games in spite of how good they felt and how much I enjoyed them."

To no one's surprise Michelle confessed, "It's not always her that initiates the games and as you inferred, it's really hard to say no to something that feels so good." Tears started to form in Michelle's reddening eyes as she stammered out, "I'm just beside myself and don't know how much longer I can live with my guilt, so I'm here to get answers. You people are old enough to be our parents and shouldn't you know better than to mess with tradition? And how do your kids cope with your sexual preoccupations?"

I cleared my throat, summoned up the strength of my matured convictions and told her that our children had been raised with Doug's liberal views on sexuality, were taught absolutely everything as teenagers and were allowed as much freedom as they needed, provided they used disease prevention and birth control methods. I also pointed out that had she not pried into the most private document in the computer they kept from my stolen van, none of this would ever have become an issue. I told her she should have known better than to open Pandora's box and now she had to live with what she had learned.

"But how did you all get so perverted?" Michelle asked in desperation, to which Louise replied, "In this household perversion can be defined only by its members. Our guidelines are simple. If it feels good to someone and no one feels pain, it's not perverted!"

On the offensive, Doug began, "Has Amy ever really hurt you?" When she shook her head, No, he continued, "Then nothing perverted has happened since you've lost your innocence and the only real hurt is to your conscience, your Mother's Conscience, am I right?" The poor thing looked at him in sad submission and then he uttered this outrageous Dougism: "So basically your mind is confused because fate has forced you to discover, in the prime of your life, that women are much better at pleasing other women and now that your lust is unleashed, your mother's conscience is making you feel guilty about feeling so good! I believe the only solution to Michelle's dilemma is to sit she and Amy on one living room sofa, park Louise and Laura on the other couch. Put on some nice girly music or video, talk with my ladies, appreciate their happiness and observe the love that took them forty-eight years to discover. In the meantime, I will go upstairs, put on my headphones and listen to some Jimmy Buffet."

Doug stood up, turned his back to us and then sang out: "We are the people your parents warned you about. We are the people, you just can't figure out. We are the people, who love to twist and shout. Shake it up baby." Another chorus of "We are the people" faded away as the silly ass did the rumba upstairs to the beat of a steel drum band only he and I could hear.

Terribly embarrassed by Doug's flippant statements, I tried not to make eye contact with the girls, but "Could we watch an Andrew Blake video then, pretty please?" came out of the grinning mouth of Amy. On a coffee and sugar enhanced high, she was something to behold. Her short curly auburn hair framed her radiant smile and I just knew it could be a long afternoon. "See, I told you it'd be all right!" She squealed and planted a hugely erotic kiss on a bewildered Michelle's lips.

Feeling completely responsible for Michelle's dilemma, I began a heart to heart talk with the girls. While Louise got her tape, we talked further of love and commitment but above all I stressed that they please themselves first and never feel guilt for doing so. When I pointed out that in polls, over half of open-minded female college students in North America would seriously consider an affair with another woman, Amy told me that they lived together all through their college years. I told Michelle to ignore her mother's puritan values and enjoy her elite status as a truly liberated, educated woman blessed with an inquiring mind. Amy asked if a lesbian relationship could override maternal instincts.

As Louise loaded her tape in the VCR she replied, "I've had affairs with several women over the last twenty years and while maternal instincts popped up occasionally, most of the time they were nowhere to be found in bed with the women I knew."

With that, perky Amy patted Michelle's knee, grinned and said to her, "No matter what then, it's you and me forever, Roommate."