Underthings

"C'mon, Janus," Sophie's Southern accent sounds like windchimes, delicate and inviting. "You can' do much about that roof jus' standin' there all day." Bales of hay rustle behind me as Sophie tosses them indoors.

I turn around. "For Pete's sake, Sophie, can you at least stack them up properly? Have some pride in your work!" My brow twitches. Despite being inside the barn, I cannot escape the sun's glare penetrating through my straw hat. Sweat soaks through my clothes, adding weight to my pants. My threadbare suspenders barely keep them up, and I habitually have to tug them up out of fear that one day my straps'll rip, my trousers collapsing around my ankles.

Sophie pays no mind to what I have to say. It doesn't matter. I take in a new view, a more enticing view that momentarily distracts me from my labor. Sophie's stiff cotton skirt barely sways as she organizes the bales into a neat, nearly mountainous pile. She's covered up to her neck, with slightly puffy shoulders. Her dress is snug around her narrow waist and sculpted arms. She's got the body of a farmgirl underneath, svelte and thick and strong. But she's not like Marie, whose back is turned to me. She stands outside unusually quiet, except for a low, lyrical hum, a normal habit when she works. She nails the beams through the underbelly of an upturned table I've built.

With each pound of the hammer, her plump ass bounces. Her backside is far more prominent than Sophie's slender behind. Unlike Sophie, Marie hates being buttoned up. She scratches her just below the curve of her bottom. No doubt her bloomers have irritated her skin, which is unsurprising in this sort of heat. Her skirt's loose and worn, and her blouse is rolled up above her elbows. Her beige vest hugs her curves, making her voluptuous body all the more inviting. Yet peppering my delight at the sight of my pair of wives are the echoes of a crash behind me. I spin around and watch in horror as a part of the roof I've been trying to mend all morning has caved in. Shattered wood rains down at the far end of the barn. Clouds of dust and debris fly upon impact.

I'm about to storm over towards the mess, Sophie urges me to wait. "We'll go over in a minit.' Jus' you rest. Look at you! So exhausted."

I do as I'm told. I pull up the pants hanging loose around my waist, and return to my Sophie. We join Maria outside, who still continues to bang nails through the beams. I'm close enough to Sophie to admire her dress, growing excited by the sight of the white petticoat peeking out from underneath her mauve-colored skirt. The feel of the dampened cotton boxers clinging to my thighs makes me stiffen. "You don't understand, Sophie. A storm's coming soon. If I don't get that roof fixed, the hay's going to sour."

"You worry too much, mi amor," Maria says from over her shoulder, still focused on her task. "That's why the roof's falling apart. You need to relax, baby. It's the only way to work."

"How can you be so sure?" I ask, my arousal mixing with anger. Not angry with Maria, but at myself for such a poor repair job. "You haven't been the one up there, toiling through the heat. You have no clue what it's like for me."

"Enough!" Maria's voice booms. It's enough to make me jump, turning around to see passion enflame her cheeky face. She stands up and marches over to me, her skirts dancing wildly around her shapely legs. "We are your wives. Your stress is our stress. And between you and me, mi amor, I am in no mood."

Sophie cautiously exchanges glances between the both of us. "Now, you two." She's softer, her voice creamy, rich. "I think I know what's the problem here."

Whenever she says that, an excitement runs through me. I know what she's going to suggest next.

So does Maria. Her harsh glare transforms into one of mischief, like I've done something bad. "You're right. There is a problem. Our man here is tense."

I chuckle nervously. "Ladies, I'll be fine." Why do I always object in the beginning? I guess I doth protest too much. The quivering between my thighs wins out in the end. As my cock twitches, it rubs against the wet cotton underwear, further stirring my arousal. "The roof won't fix itself. You two prepare my lunch. I'll be hungry when I get back."

"You're not hungry for food, mi amor. Besides, why you need to go back so soon? You're still so tense." She's the youngest of Sophie and I, but she speaks with the experience of a real woman. Maria leans forward and fingers my suspender strap.

I slap her hand away. Even the slightest touch could expose me, expose how I really feel. But it's too late. One of my suspender straps tear. The right side of my pants collapse below my hips, and because my pants are worn so loosely, it hangs low enough to uncover my boxers. I soon feel the faintest breeze winnow against my wet cotton underwear. Behind me I hear the women giggle.

"Now look what've you done," Sophie says to Maria. "You're goin' to have to fix his clothes ag'n."

"Oh really?" She grabs my shoulder and spins me around, showing me off to Sophie.

The exposure shocks me into a state of excitement that can't help but show. The erection juts out from between my thighs, the underwear sheathing my cock. The fabric drapes from it like an artificial layer of skin, allowing some comfortable space for my member to protrude uninhibited. I've never gotten used to such a feeling.

Maria wraps her hand around my erection. "Let's go, mi amor. I'll fix your suspenders... as well as the hammer inside your pants." She leads me by the cock against the wall of the barn.

Sophie follows. She's tall enough that her bosoms come to my eyeline. Her chest is well-endowed, even more so than Maria, and enhanced by the corsetry hiding underneath her dress. My penis wobbles, rasping against my underwear. She fondles the suspender strap still intact, teasing it off my shoulder until it falls over the edge. The trousers drop. Pang of humiliation knots my stomach. Even worse, the embarrassment hardens my flesh beyond pleasure.

Sophie kneels down to get a closer look at my erection. "Janus, I've never seen you so excited." She blushes. "Do we arouse you, my husband?"

"Yes." Her cleavage, glistening from sweat, makes me breathless.

Maria notices. She bends down and whispers something in Sophie's ear. I can't quite hear what she says, but Sophie's eyes widen. "I don't know if I can," Sophie says.

Maria shakes her head. "I'll show you." She takes Sophie's hand and guides it under my boxers. Soon I feel Sophie's soft touch teasing my head. It's the first time she's touched me like this before; usually she's so shy. But with Maria behind her Sophie's gained some of her confidence. Their hands disappear inside my wet underwear. Maria's grip is firm and resolute, while Sophie is timid and gentle. "You see how excited he gets?" Maria asks Sophie.

Sophie nods, the feminine glean in her eye growing sultry. Seeing her this way, sensing their combined control on my member - my body convulses. My penis throbs in their grip, pouring just some of my juice over their fingers. I moan.

Maria's hand slides out. Her fingers glisten with my pre-come, but she doesn't care. She stands up, while Sophie continues to massage my penis, unaware of what Maria does next. Maria can tell I've been eyeing Sophie's cleavage. "You want a show, papi?" She slowly lifts up her skirt, revealing the first stiff layer of crinoline underneath. It excites me. "You want to see more?"

"Yes." I eagerly reach out to touch the multiple layers of skirts. "Please."

"I like when you beg for it." Her smile widens. She teases me with the second and third layers, lifting them up ever so slightly to reveal a hint of her loose, lace petticoat. It's sheer enough that I can make out the details of her bloomers. Maria stands next to me. She takes my hand and guides me underneath her dress. She forces me to grip her inner thighs. My fingers are barely inches from her lips; the heat exudes from her sex. The feel of Maria's cotton bloomers, the final barrier, leaves me breathless.

Sophie's breaths are short and shallow.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

"My... corset..." Sophie stands and, in one grand sweep, lifts her myriad skirts. I catch a glimpse of her frilly, loose bloomers, her legs sheathed in a pair of white, thick stockings. She leans against me. Sweat thins her bloomers enough so I could feel the taut muscles in her buttocks rub against my thighs. "Will you help me out of my corset, husband?" Sophie invitingly sweeps her wheat-blonde locks over her right shoulder. Is she as excited as I am? I reach underneath her shirt, my fingers brushing against the tempting lace knots. My hand continues to carome around her cinched waist. The boning bends like a bow against her contours, the satin material tight and stiff. Her constricted body's desperate to take a bigger breath. The way she shifts and moves in discomfort, her ass squirming against me, causes me to convulse, and release yet another stream of spunk.

Sophie gasps.

"I... I'm sorry," I whisper. My fingers fumble to loosen her ties from underneath her blouse, not at all as dexterous as I should be for the task. Despite my climax, my boner remains protruding from my loose shorts. Sophie's legs are parted, my penis sticking straight up from between her open thighs, lifting her multiple skirts like a pitched tent. My come acts as an adhesive, gluing the starched boxers to my penis. As I tremble, the slight rub of the underwear against my sensitive skin makes my erection feel endless. How much more can I take?

Maria bends over. "Looks like you need some help, mi amor." Her hand yet again disappears underneath my boxers. Then I feel her cradle my balls. When she gives them a gentle squeeze, pre-come oozes from the tip. "My God," she says. "You must have been

really

stressed."

I can't talk. Between Sophie's tight corsetry and Maria's hand, my energy is simultaneously exhausted and enticed. After what seems like an eternity, I untie the knots in her laces. Sophie finally takes a deep breath, her midframe expands.. Her swollen breasts fall naturally from their cups, appearing firm and heavy underneath her blouse. I unwrap the corset from her body and let it fall to the floor. Excited, my hands can't help but grasp her bosoms, feeling the impressions of the corset branded into her milky skin. She falls back against me, her head resting on my shoulder. Her angle provides me with a better view of her breasts, my hands like pairs of spiders crawling over her nipples.

Maria's hand moves up and down my shaft. While the sensation alone drives me insane, just seeing her hands inside my boxers is enough to make me unload. She feeds my every desire, my every insatiable urge. My idle hands explore Sophie's body, moving out of her shirt and below her skirts. I touch her wet bloomers, wetter at the junction of her shapely thighs. Upon my first delicate caress, Sophie moans in my ear. I massage her legs, the heavy cotton resisting my touch. Sophie begs me to keep going. Never has she been this demanding. Maria knows this, and snickers with mischievous delight.

We continue until I can feel myself explode. I press Sophie's bloomers against her clit. Overcome with desire, my other hand frantically dives underneath Maria's skirts to fondle her pussy. Her bloomers are soaking wet. Maria continues to watch. "Yes, papi," she whispers. "Make us come." Aroused, she rubs against me. We quicken our movements, the three of us entrenched in a collective glow of ecstasy. I can feel the tremors in Sophie's body, the jiggle in her breasts as she's close to climax. It encourages me to come as well. Our bodies joined in pleasurable union, her come spills into my hand, and I come into Maria's. I convulse violently against the wall, but I never once forget about Maria. The twitches force me to rasp her clit even harder. She falls onto my shoulder, moaning. Her deliciously wet sex throbs against me, her orgasm hard and enduring until, finally, she takes a deep breath and relaxes.

We all collapse onto the grassy floor. Too tired to talk, and with not much to say, we remain in each other's embrace. In a moment, I close my eyes.