Late the following Saturday, I found myself, once again, at Phoebe and Rosalind's house. Clad in boxer shorts, and nothing else, my body was completely hairless from the neck down. My skin had barely recovered from a withering session with Marta, Rosie's favorite Brazilian wax specialist.
I had a bad feeling, that Monday, when entering the hair removal clinic she had sent me to. Marta, the technician, was a middle-aged Russian woman who almost certainly had been a powerlifter. She did not ask me any questions, since Rosie had already briefed her on exactly what to do. This consisted of removing every hair, no matter how small, from my entire body, including around my scrotum and ass. It also included anal bleaching, which was the rudest surprise of all. Although, to be honest, by that point in the treatment, I was in so much pain from Marta's ruthless ministrations that I was beyond caring.
Adding insult to injury, when Marta first saw my penis she had said, dismissively, "Eh, my hosband's was beeger," needlessly answering a question nobody had asked.
Days later, in their living room, Thorn was walking around me in a circle, inspecting the meticulous Russian's handiwork.
"Marta really does do such good work, wouldn't you say, Pet?"
"Yes, Miss Thorn."
True to her word, Thorn increased the intensity of this session. She herself had switched to a red version of her costume, which was otherwise the same as before. Pet was completely nude, save her dog collar, and was presently waiting patiently on her hands and knees. She was facing away from me with her legs spread, providing a clear view of her vagina and anus. Unlike before, Thorn had attached a leash to the collar, and I could see the flared end of a butt-plug in her ass. Thorn kept it inside of Pet all night, only removing it when my dick needed to occupy the same space.
The dick in question was pointing straight out, both from anticipation of what was to come, and a backlog of sexual frustration. Unlike the previous week, Phoebe had been too tired all week to suck me off. Although I had gotten myself off instead, there was no comparison to having oral sex with my best friend, and I felt correspondingly horny. My boxers were extended in front of me, making an embarrassing tent. Thorn pointedly ignored this obvious protrusion, and, from there, events proceeded largely as they had before. I was shackled and placed under the sheet, and Thorn directed the two of them as they penetrated their holes with my condom-clad dick.
Thorn did have three major surprises for me. One was that the enormous ball-gag that I had worn last time was replaced with a similar-sized gag that also featured a short, wide dildo extending upwards from my mouth. Although still covered by the sheet, as last time, both women were able to grind their vaginas on it at various points throughout the night. In Pet's case, she was forced to rub on it by her mistress, and in Thorn's case, I think she just wanted to dominate me a little more by smothering my head with her pussy. Several times that evening, while Pet was riding my dick, Thorn used the mouth toy to get herself off, drenching my face with her cum each time.
The second surprise was that, after I had come inside Pet's vagina and ass one time each, Thorn squatted over my midsection and peed all over, the powerful jet of odorless fluid saturating the sheet completely, and accumulating a puddle under my butt. While turned around, so that she couldn't see, she directed Pet to remove the sheet, remove the condom, drink the cum from it, and then herself pee all over my exposed genitalia, too. This last part was, according to Thorn, intended to "clean the toy up", although none of us really believed that.
Most surprising of all, though, was that after Thorn dismounted me, having just had me come inside her pussy, she made all three of us take Viagra. For me, the idea was to make sure I could get hard for longer. In the case of the two women, I found out later they'd done some research on the Internet, and had discovered that it had a similar effect on their vaginas as well, causing increased blood flow and intensity of experience.
Our session lasted over twice the duration of the previous one, and by the end I'd come three times in Pet's ass, twice in her pussy, once in Thorn's pussy, and three times in her ass. Even after all of that, I had a Viagra-driven erection that would not die down, so Rosalind left the room while exhausted, sweat-drenched Phoebe sucked me off, swallowing two loads before my dick finally went limp for the night.
As on the previous Saturday, the night ended with a pow-wow on the couch. All three of us were wearing bathrobes, and I was pleased to find out that they had bought me a larger one since the previous session; last time I'd used one of theirs, and it had barely covered my nakedness. They had also, thoughtfully, bought me a toothbrush, so I could freshen up my mouth. Both women were being affectionate and loving with each other, and were going through which parts of the evening they'd enjoyed the most.
"The best was that butt-plug," Phoebe said, "that sucker really stretched me out. I couldn't believe when you'd put it back in right after his dick. Fuckin' brutal!"
They double-checked with me whether I had had fun too, and all I could do was grin stupidly. Shortly before I headed for home, Phoebe went to the bathroom, and Rosalind took the opportunity to ask me, in a hushed tone, "Does Phee seem off to you, Jason?"
"I think she really enjoyed things tonight, if that's what you mean. I'm not sure I've ever seen her any happier."
"No, it's not that. I mean yes, I do agree she had fun. It's just, she seems... off."
"Well, now you mention it, she does seem extra tired. Even considering what the three of us were up to. And she was too tired for us to do our oral sex thing all week too."
"You mean your throat fucking?" Rosalind said, ribbing me for being needlessly delicate.
Before we could finish the discussion, Phoebe returned, yawning.
"Time to hit the hay, y'all!" she said sleepily.
* * *
The following Tuesday afternoon, after putting in a few hours of work on my thesis, I took the bus to an expensive cafe near Rosalind's work. The two women had asked me to meet them there. They wouldn't tell me what it was all about, and I was nervous that they were going to inform me that our sexual adventures were going to come to an end for some reason.
They had already been seated, when I arrived, and a pretty, well-dressed hostess showed me over to their brightly-lit table. It was next to a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looking onto the bustling street. After exchanging greetings, they both stared up at me with trepidation. They were more nervous than when they'd proposed our crazy sex sessions in the first place. My stomach felt like it was falling through the floor; it appeared my worst fears were about to be realized.
"Um, Jason," Rosalind started. "We kind of have something to tell you, and it's sorta embarrassing, and hopefully you won't--"
"I'm pregnant," Phoebe cut in.
I must have had the world's worst poker face, at that moment, because both women were visibly taken aback by my reaction.
"You look... relieved?" Rosalind asked.
"I thought you were here to call off our Saturday sex sessions!"
"Oh, God no!" Rosalind said. "But, I guess I'm surprised you're not, upset or something? I mean, Phee's pregnant!"
"Sorry, I was so sure you guys were going to 'break up' with me," I said, making air quotes with my hands, "it hasn't really sunk in yet."
My initial reaction, to be honest about it, was to get an erection. This seemed wholly immature, though, and I did not tell them about it. The first useful thought to cross my mind, after this spontaneous reaction, was that it felt odd to have gotten my best friend pregnant. Our relationship was, other than the crazy quasi-sex, no different from the Platonic friendship I would have had with a male best friend. I sat silently for a full minute, keeping my mouth shut to avoid saying anything dumb.
Gradually, all of these thoughts and emotions were swept aside by an up-welling of concern for Phoebe's well-being. I was not sure that she ever wanted to get pregnant; of the two of them, Rosalind had seemed far more likely to be the one to choose to carry a child. Granted, this notion was based on cultural stereotypes rather than any direct knowledge of the two women's feelings.
"I think," I said, at last, "I mostly just want to make sure you're okay, Phee."
I took her hand in mine. Both women relaxed visibly.
"Thanks, Jason, you're such an amazing friend. I am actually okay. Surprisingly okay. I definitely never thought this would be, you know, a thing for me."
"I was always the one who was going to have a baby," Rosalind interjected, "But I kept putting it off. I was scared I guess. And, honestly, now that Phee's pregnant, I've realized it's not actually something I would be comfortable with, after all."
Phoebe took her guilty-looking wife's hand.
"It's a little scary for me, too," Phoebe said, "but I am going to go ahead with it, and I... to be honest, I'm looking forward to it more than I would have expected."
There was momentary pause as her words sunk in.
"Look, Jason, I'm not going to pretend to ask for your approval here. It is my body," she added.
"Of course!" I said.
"But I would like your," she continued, "support, if you'll give it."
"It would mean a lot to her, and me too, for what that's worth," Rosalind added.
"Phoebe," I said seriously, squeezing her hand and taking Rosalind's as well, "I will support both of you in any way I can, as much as I can, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart."
Rosalind and Phoebe started to cry. A stray drop even rolled down my cheek. The three of us hugged across the little table and were silent for a few minutes.
"Just to be clear," Phoebe said at last, "we don't want you to be Dad. This going to be a strictly two mommies situation."
"That's fine!" I said, then added, "But can I be Uncle?"
"Yes, you can be Uncle Jay," Phoebe said with a smile.
"I'd like that, too," added her wife. "Also, and I guess this is getting ahead of ourselves, could you be with me at the birth? If it's okay with you, of course, Phee?"
"Fine with me," Phoebe said, in mock exasperation. "It's not as if he hasn't seen my junk already."
With this, she gave a pointed look at her blushing wife. The waiter, who had been hovering discretely, came over to take our orders, and we passed a pleasant hour chatting with each other. Now that the big reveal was over, I felt happier and happier as the minutes rolled by. Then a thought struck me.
"So hang on a second, ladies," I said, "how did this actually happen?"
"Didn't your parents teach you about the birds and the bees, Jason?" Rosalind asked sweetly.
