Things heat up.
There's group sex but for those of you worried about such things, there is no MM sex. The group sex that occurs is fully embraced by all involved. There's no jealousy, just love and enjoyment. I hope most of the folks enjoying the story up to now are okay with that.
I forgot to thank LarryInSeattle for editing the last chapter. So, a belated 'thank you' for that chapter and another for editing this one.
Enjoy.
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Jess finds Jon sitting on the end of the bed. It appears he was waiting for her. He rises and holds out his hand. She takes it, squeezes it, hard. A bit of the joy she's come to love returns to his eyes. A wisp of a smile, faint as a high cloud on a long summer's day, flits over his lips. She kisses him, quickly, hoping to trap the smile on his mouth before it disappears.
He leads her to the bathroom and begins to fill the tub. It's not designed for two but it's large and Jon is not a large man. Jess is petite without looking small; she gives off the aura of a much larger person. Jon continues to be awed, at how compact the real Jess is, compared to the Jess that resides in his mind, and his heart. He helps her out of her clothes and then his own.
They kneel in the tub. They've showered together but Jess knows, on some deeper level, that this is different. She is hushed, feeling as if she's in church. They bathe each other silently. She leans over his legs. He reaches beyond her and opens the tap, cups handfuls of warm water to wet her hair. He shampoos her hair, cups more water, rinses. She does the same for him. They hold hands as they step out of the tub, feeling not only cleansed but blessed.
He dries her hair, combs it, as she kneels in front of him, his half-hard cock dangling in front of her eyes. He kneels Jess stands, tends to his hair. If the cold tile is hard on their knees, they don't notice. The world is reduced to the sight, the feel, scent of each other. Finished, Jon drapes the towel neatly over the edge of the tub and kneels with her. They hold hands, foreheads touching. Their breath mingles in the space between their faces. Their heartbeats begin to alter rhythm, Jess' slowing, Jon's speeding, until they beat in time with each other.
Jess swears she can hear the whisper of his thoughts, inchoate, unreadable, but there, just beyond her understanding. Perhaps she's correct. It's hours later when they rise from the floor. There's no popping of knees, no limb has fallen asleep.
They walk hand and hand to the bed. Jon kneels on the bed and holds Jess' hand as she stretches out beside him. He sits astride her thighs and leans forward, pressing his body to hers, his face buried in the side of her neck. Her arms go around his shoulders; her fingers play along the sharp ridge of his shoulder blades and skate up and down the bumpy ridge of his spine.
Outside of their embrace the world continues to spin as the moon and stars slip across the sky.
He moves; she opens her legs, making room for him. His hips move forward; their bodies connect. Her arms and legs pull him close, as close as it's physically possible for two individuals to be. He doesn't thrust. Their bodies do not move. They empty their minds of everything except the places where their skin touches.
She imagines her pussy caressing his cock and muscles previously either unaware of, or beyond her control, obey her thoughts. Jon tightens muscles behind his balls, relaxes. He rests his forehead on hers. They breath each other in. Their eyes are open, too close to be in focus; the hazy outlines of their faces are all they see. Like the beat of their hearts, the pulsing of his cock and the caresses of her cunt fall into rhythm.
His seed, is drawn from his body. Her orgasm flows out of her as his cock fills the emptiness inside. She accepts his offering; her acceptance enlarges him. He gains more than he's given. They lie in each other's arms, not sleeping but not quite awake. When he rolls off her, he turns his body, his head at her feet. Jess, unthinking, moves to straddle his head. She lowers her mouth to his resurgent cock as she lowers her cunt to his mouth.
They've given a gift to each other, transformed the gift, and now they return it to each other.
As the sun rises, they move into each other's arms, pull a thin sheet over their waists, and fall asleep, having spoken not a single word.
***
James opens his arms to his wife, intending to comfort her, quench her tears, but when her mouth finds his, grief is burned to ashes by the heat of their desire. Hands intertwined, she mounts him, lets her weight fall on him, needing the feel of his cock, and his love, to drive the sadness from her heart. He obliges. They cum together, a rare occurrence. Gloria collapses atop him and they lie, finally, as still as their children next door. James tightens his arms around her as her tears dampen his shoulder.
***
Caitlin lies on her side, watching as Travis undresses. She opens her arms to him. She loves this position, sebek el heub, "love's fusion". Contrary to the common misconception, love's fusion is not from the Kama Sutra, but from The Perfumed Garden, a monograph on sexuality, among other things, written in the twelfth-century by one Sheikh Nefzawi at the request of the ruler of Tunis. Travis, understanding her as no other man ever has, lies beside her. Her top leg goes over his side; she guides him home with her hand. The position ensures a slow sensuality, faces perfectly aligned for equally slow kisses. She rolls back, exposing her breasts and tight nipples to his touch and his mouth. She cums before he does, as is often the case. That's one of the many things she loves about her husband, his knowledge of her body and its rhythms and the mastery of his own. She cums, fingers clenching at his shoulders. With an ease born of intimacy, he changes the intensity and angle of his thrusts, keeping her orgasm edging along, not letting it fade. As he feels the pressure building in his belly, he finds her clit with his hand, a nipple with his mouth. His timing is impeccable. He gives himself to her as her orgasm roars back to life, filling her mind and body with a silent white light.
***
Gloria wakes to bright sunshine and the soft, not quite snoring, of her husband. It takes her sleepy brain a minute to locate the reason for the stone of unhappiness lodged in her chest. She slides from bed. James stirs as she eases her body from under his arm, then falls back into sleep. She slips a bathrobe on and pads out to the patio, curious as to whether her early rising daughter is up. The kids' patio is empty. She scans the beach but sees only a few early morning runners. She crosses to the patio. The drape is not pulled. She tells herself not to, but she peeks through the gauzy sheer panel hanging over the door. The stone in her chest swells; it's hard to breathe. Jess, eyes closed, lies on her side, sleeping. She's naked, vulnerable. Jon is behind and above her. His chin rests atop her head, his mouth is slightly parted, one arm is draped over her neck and shoulder, his hand cups her breast as if to protect it, protect her. For a moment she sees them, not as her children, but as the young lovers they have become. The stone shatters; her lungs fill with air. She covers her mouth, muffling a sob, as she hurries from the patio. She stands where the ocean meets the sand and lets the surf lap over her toes, struggling to bring herself under control. The breeze lifts the hair from her shoulders as she lifts her face to the sun.
Caitlin wonders, not for the first time, how she and Travis became so entangled, so quickly with the Vandermachs. She knows the answer, she finds them intriguing, interesting, and charming, despite the unhappiness hanging over them. She has not been lying, she really would prefer them as friends, but she doesn't deny that there is a large part of her that would love to have them as both lovers and friends. She shakes her head, amused at herself, when she realizes by 'them', she means James and Gloria as much as she means Jon and Jess. She frowns at herself, finding it necessary to clarify, even if she's the sole member of the conversation, that she doesn't want to have sex with all four of them at once, Jon and Jess or Gloria and James, but not all at once.
How weird would that be, even if weren't all fucking at the same time, we'd still be fucking the parents and their kids! I mean the kids aren't kids, gross, but still
, she thinks to herself. She told herself she was going to eat at the breakfast buffet by the pool. The fact that she would have to walk past the Vandermach's rooms is incidental. However true that may have been, she alters course when she sees a distraught Gloria rushing towards the beach. For a moment, she is terrified the woman is going to dive into the waves, PICC line, infection and all, but Gloria stops at the water's edge. Woman's intuition or a simple coincidence causes Gloria to look over her shoulder as the young woman approaches.
Gloria turns towards her; Caitlin opens her arms. Gloria accepts the offer and lets her friend and her doctor, hold her while she weeps.
Gloria pulls away and before Caitlin can react, kisses the woman.
***
James' return to sleep is short-lived. The sound of the patio door opening and closing wakes him. He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, then rolls to feel the warmth his wife has left behind. He misses her. He misses his children, the children who boarded the plane.
Why? They were constantly at each other's throats. I very nearly stayed behind this year, unable to bear the thought of another two weeks trapped between the snaps and snarls and forced togetherness. Isn't this version of my children preferable
