Games

This dinner is the first time we've all eaten together. Ms. Larson sits at the head of the table, of course. To her right are Julie and Delilah, while Lauren and I sit to her left. The table isn't like one of those crazy long tables you see in movies where they show a hundred vikings all eating at the same stretch of wood, but it could comfortably fit fifteen or so people. Yet we're all clustered down at one end. Ms. Larson, when asked about it, explains it's half for show, and half for when she actually hosts a dinner party.

"Do you host parties often?" I ask.

"No, not regularly. Maybe one or two a year? Most of the time they're some sort of fundraiser or charity event."

"And do they all have to be naked?" I continue the obvious line of questioning.

She chuckles in response, and makes a point of looking both me and my sister up and down. "The kind of people who come to those things would never agree to that. When I have one of those parties, you students are either confined to the second floor, or requested to be out of the house for the evening."

"You just kick us out?"

She nods, "I would rather your ever present boner not interrupt my attempts to fund a new initiative."

I raise a finger to protest the use of the term "ever present" but realize she's pretty much right. Even now, eating dinner, I'm still chubbing up a little bit from the three naked women around me. And that doesn't even count the gorgeous older woman who looks better in a sundress than most women do naked. "Ok, that's fair," I reply, and go back to my pasta.

"What about the other kind of parties?" Lauren asks, picking up where I left off.

"Hmm?" Ms. Larson shifts her eyes to my twin with an appraising look.

"You said most of your parties are fundraisers. That implies that sometimes they aren't."

Ms. Larson smiles at Lauren, and tilts her head forward. "The other kind aren't necessarily 'parties', but I might have a friend come visit for a day or a weekend."

"And does that friend wear clothes?"

"Usually not. Sometimes they do, but anyone who's a friend who is staying here will know the rules. And they abide by the rules. And yes," Ms. Larson raises her hand to cut off Lauren's next question, "those times, you're allowed to stay. In fact, some of my friends might prefer if you stay."

This makes both Lauren and I blush. I wonder if her friends have joined in on the casual sex environment that has been brewed here. She's rich, I wonder if any of her friends are famous, like an actress or a singer or something. More likely, however, it's a billionaire white guy in his 60's. Not quite as sexy.

"I personally prefer the big charity parties," Julie says with a grin, "gives me a chance to cook something exciting. Or make a ton of cute little appetizers and hors d'oeuvres and snacky food." I can't tell if she's being genuine or sarcastic, but I'm leaning towards her really meaning it. "Plus," she adds, that gorgeous smile growing, "all those wealthy folks like to slip into the kitchen and give me a very sizable tip."

Lauren and I look at each other. She giggles first and then I join her. Julie gives us a look, which makes even Ms. Larson giggle along with us. "Not that kind of tip! Dirty minded little rascals," she wags a finger at us. "I'm paid exceedingly well, and have no complaints on that front," she reassures her employer, "but an extra ten thousand or so is always appreciated."

"You're getting paid?" Delilah asks, looking hurt. Then she breaks into a big smile. "I'd honestly do the job for free, but the ridiculous salary helps."

"You shouldn't have said that," Ms. Larson muses, "Now you're gonna be paid in nothing but food, housing, and orgasms." Delilah squirms at that, wiggling back and forth on her seat. "But if I know you as well as I think I do, that's not really a problem, is it?"

Delilah shakes her head, while Julie just smiles and rolls her eyes.

"How long have you worked here, Delilah," Lauren asks, continuing to take the lead with conversation, and working to steer us away from further talk of Delilah's orgasms. I wouldn't mind seeing another one of those, to be honest.

"Seven years," Delilah responds with a grin towards Ms. Larson. "I was... not in a good place. And Ms. Larson gave me a way out of that. It was originally just supposed to be a year long employment, enough to help me get on my feet and get back to being in charge of my own life." The way she looks at Ms. Larson seems to be the look of either a devoted follower or a lover. It's likely both, and from the short time I've spent with Ms. Larson, I can't blame her.

"She's the best maid I've ever had," Ms. Larson looks at Delilah with pure appreciation. It's clear to me that despite the dominant and submissive relationship they have, with Delilah's subservience to Ms. Larson going far beyond employer/employee, there is genuine affection between them. They are friends, confidants. Or maybe I'm making all of this up and these are the baseless observations of a horny 18 year old boy. I'm generally a good judge of people though, it helps when making a movie to be able to get the most out of your actors.

"What did you do before this, Delilah?" I ask, giving Lauren a chance to spend some time shoveling pasta and chicken into her mouth. Most of my food is gone now anyway, only a few bits of pasta and two--three if they're small--bites of bread left. I'm trying to savor it though, I imagine a chef like Julie doesn't want to make the same stuff very often, so I'm trying to do the math in my head of how much pasta to pile on the bread, and how much to eat on its own when the bread is gone.

"I did a lot of stuff," she replies, "Immediately before this job I was unemployed for a while. But before that, I worked for a professional cleaning service, I was an office administrator, I was a babysitter... The list goes on for a while, none of them lasting very long. Nor were any of them really enjoyable." As she's talking I feel something brush against my leg. I shift back instinctively, but the object follows me.

I look down and see a dark brown, perfectly smooth and pedicured foot. I look up and see Julie smirking in my direction, a playful look that fits her well. I shift back forward, and her foot slides up against my leg again. Her toes splay apart and almost grip my shin, making their way up and down my leg. I shiver at the feeling and shift my chair even closer, earning a look from Lauren, confusion in her eyes. She looks down and sees Julie's foot on my leg, and an eyeful of my cock. A blush spreads across my sister's face and she quickly looks up to focus on her food again, clearly accepting what is happening enough not to interrupt.

"Well I'm glad you're here," I say, my voice a little choked as Julie continues to tease me with her foot. Her soft skin is electric against me, making me melt from the inside out. She is divine. Truly a beautiful, erotic force of nature who knows exactly the effect she has on me. It's only my second day here and I'm falling hard for the chef and more than ok with that. I'd do anything if she would continue to smile at me like that.

"I like getting to work for Ms. Larson," Delilah continues, oblivious to the fact that only half of my brain is working right now, "and meet all the students that come through here. And obviously, the sex is good. I have an incredibly high libido--"

"Some might say too high," Ms. Larson cuts in, and Delilah grins at her in response.

"I wouldn't, but some would definitely say that. Anyway, I have a high libido and usually at least one of these college kids is down to fuck me. And that's not even counting what Ms. Larson does to me. Still, three times a day minimum to keep myself sane, but the nudity helps and keeps me turned on to make it easier to cum." She's so matter of fact about her sex life and her apparently near constant masturbation. It's intimidating but also admirable. I suppose I have unintentionally been very open about my sex life since I got here. Everyone at the table knows about Lauren and I masturbating together and what happened with Julie afterwards. And none of them seem to care. Well, I guess Julie and Ms. Larson think it's hot. So they care a little bit.

"Don't you get like... sore from getting off that much?" Lauren asks quietly and inquisitively.

I'm also very interested in the answer, but my focus is snatched by Julie's foot leaving my leg and pressing gently against my cock. She traipses her toes, painted black, along my shaft and presses down, putting a bit of pressure on both my cock and my balls. It's a strange sensation, and not one I would normally seek out, but receiving it from Julie makes me enjoy it more. I scoot forward an inch or two in my chair, pushing my cock against her foot wholeheartedly. I see her eyebrow raise across the table and that fucking smile returns. God yes.

"Not really," Delilah says, "I don't go at it for a really long time every session. I know how to make myself cum as quickly as I want, and I just aim for that release whenever the need arises. When I'm allowed..." she looks over at Ms. Larson who returns the look lovingly. Oh. That is an interesting aspect of their relationship I hadn't been expecting.

"You're normally allowed," Ms. Larson purrs, as if the rest of us aren't there. Hell, I'm barely here, with the feel of Julie's foot gliding down my genitals until she is lifting my hardening cock with her toes. It's a tease, only a tease, there's no risk of me cumming or getting too worked up, but it's enough to make my cock slowly rise to the occasion. With how quickly even this is getting me erect, it's almost like I haven't already had two powerful orgasms today. But my body doesn't understand the concept of rest.

"Uh," Lauren starts quietly, "what do you mean by 'allowed'?" she asks. It's not an overly complicated word, but Lauren and I are both incredibly inexperienced in the world of kink. All of our sexual experience, outside of maybe a kiss or two, has happened in this house. Being "allowed" to cum, and that psychosexual ramifications of such a concept, are beyond our scope of understanding. I had a very short crash course in Ms. Larson's office when she stopped stroking me until I said the right words. Opting into that, and actively wanting to be denied is still confusing, however. The point is to enjoy yourself, and then cum, right?

"It means--" Delilah starts before Ms. Larson cuts her off.

"It means that Delilah gets off on being controlled, and on giving up agency over her body sometimes," Ms. Larson reaches out a hand and gently places it on Delilah's hand, squeezing it affectionately, "And sometimes she knows that if she lets me decide when she gets to finish, when she gets to have that orgasm she's chasing, it will be all the better for her."

Delilah nods in agreement, a rare blush coloring her pale cheeks. She must enjoy this aspect of their relationship, otherwise she wouldn't do it, and Ms. Larson doesn't seem the type to force that sort of thing on someone. After seeing her start openly masturbating by the pool, though, I hadn't thought anything could embarrass her. Maybe she's just not used to having it explained to teenagers so matter-of-factly.

"That doesn't scare you a little, Delilah?" Lauren asks. Or at least she says something like that. My mind is going hazy as my cock hardens under the assault of Julie's foot expertly toying with me. I wonder if she is trying to get me to cum. I don't think I'll be able to, not from this, but it's certainly distracting, and oddly pleasurable. I've never been one to really be into the whole foot fetish thing, but something about what Julie is doing to me is enticing. I let out a quiet grunt, hopefully too quiet for anyone to hear, and slowly grind my hardening cock against Julie's upright foot, humping it slowly under the table.

"No, I trust Ms. Larson with my life. That includes my orgasms. And I know she trusts me to tell her if I truly need something that she's denying me." Again she looks at Ms. Larson so lovingly that you would think they were married.

"It's a give and take, for both of us. I'm not 'in charge', I'm just the dominant," Ms. Larson explains. "She is giving up control to me and I appreciate that because we both enjoy that. But if she ever asked to not be my little, pathetic, orgasm addicted toy, I would understand and that would be that." Lauren and I both blush at the lewd description of Delilah, both of us still getting accustomed to the casual vulgarity. It's a drastic change from the muted, conservative home we grew up in.

"Oh, ok," Lauren says, clearly still trying to wrap her head around the concept. I wonder if she is interested in something like that, on either side of the table. Hell, I don't even know if I am. "Uh, good for you two then. I guess. That's..." She keeps talking but I focus more on the feel of slowly, subtly humping my cock against Julie's foot. Why does this feel so good? I'm not actually fucking anything. Not sliding my cock into an orifice, or between my hand. Just humping. Grinding my needy virgin cock against her foot with desperate intent. And then her foot is gone and I involuntarily whimper quietly. Julie gently bites her bottom lip and smirks at me, raising an eyebrow as if to say "See?"

"Darling," Ms. Larson is saying, responding to Lauren, "we all have our things that we enjoy that others might not. You haven't discovered yours yet, and that's ok. You will eventually. Delilah's is turning herself into a drooling, needy toy," Lauren flinches slightly more than I do at the term, but to be fair my mind is still heavily focused on Julie, who has pulled her foot away and has left me hanging, "Who knows what yours might be. Either of you, really," Ms. Larson's eyes flit over to me, including me in the lesson. I'm already well on my way to learning that I don't know nearly enough about what actually turns me on.

There's a silence then as Lauren and I slowly finish our food. I'm throbbing erect, my cock twitching with an intense need to cum and find relief, but relief left me and is sitting on the other side of the table grinning at me like a demon. Soon enough though, everyone is done eating, and my cock is even starting to slowly drift back down to flaccid.

That's new.

"Leave your dishes, I'll get them tonight," Julie says, rising from her chair like an uncoiling cobra. "The kitchen is my domain anyway," she makes a motion at Lauren when my sister moves to get up and help, gesturing for her to sit back down.

"Don't you dare," she says with a grin, "I get paid too much to just cook. Besides, you'll do plenty of dishes while you're here, no need to start on day two." With that, the brown goddess begins to gather up plates and dinnerware, not making any indication that she's apologetic about the teasing footplay we had shared. Not that I think she's apologetic or even has anything to be sorry for. She's just a delightful tease.

"So," Ms. Larson says, looking at Lauren, Delilah, and I, "I'm in the mood to play a board game this evening. I'm open to what we play, and if you two are willing to join me that would make me very happy," she grins at us, a smile of genuine welcoming and excitement. None of the sexual tension that I'm used to experiencing with her. She just wants to play a board game with us. Naked.

"Hell yeah," Lauren says, nearly jumping out of her seat. I'm a little slower to get up, on account of my still somewhat aroused state, and by the time I'm out of my chair, my twin is scurrying from the room, her cute butt bouncing as she bounds out of the room. Ms. Larson looks at me in surprise and I shrug a response.

"She likes board games," I reply, "And we don't really get to play them much at our house. Mom and Dad don't..." I trial off for a moment, thinking about how Lauren and I would be thrown out of our house if we got caught doing any of the things we had done in the last two days. Everything from my skinny dipping to masturbating together to the fact that we had kissed. A full, real, beautiful kiss. "Uh, Mom and Dad didn't have much money, so we didn't have many board games. But our friend Adam had a bunch, and Lauren was always begging him to play with us."

"It's cute," Ms. Larson replies, watching Lauren scamper away. "What does she like about them?"

"I think she enjoys examining how the rules interact and finding the best way to get her preferred result from within the constraints of those rules."

She arches an eyebrow at me as we walk towards the stairs, following the quickly retreating footsteps. Delilah is following behind, letting us have our conversation, but clearly indicating she will be joining us. "That was very insightful," she muses.

"I know my sister," I explain, as if that clears it up. Then, under the withering gaze of Ms. Larson, I elaborate. "I think it's one of the things she enjoys about acting. As a director, or a writer, I can be behind the camera and tell her 'Hey, Lauren, I need to feel this emotion for this scene', and she can take that rule and figure out the best way for her to bring it to me while still making it her own."

"Hmm," our matriarch smiles at me. "That makes sense, I think. She's a good actress." I hadn't been expecting to hear that. Not that Lauren isn't a good actress, she's amazing, but I'm not sure how Ms. Larson would know. Apparently my surprise is evident on my face, because she chuckles. "I saw your application tape. Both of them, really. Her acting reel and your directing reel." She's quiet as she forms her next sentence and I let her think without interrupting as we climb slowly to the third floor. "You have a certain way of looking at things. And people. You get to the soul of the subject." I blush at this, for the first time in this house it's not for a sexual reason.

"Thank you," I squeak to her.

She nods, "I think you'll do good work and make things worth watching." It may be the highest praise I've ever received, if only because I can sense how genuinely she means it.

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't. I just walk alongside one of the most beautiful women I've ever met in silence. Memories of her jerking my cock earlier today flood my mind. In my head, part of me instinctively refers to her as "Mommy". I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. I'm sure she would love to know that, but that's all the more reason to keep it to myself for now.

When we get to the game room, Lauren already has a box out and is reading over the rule book. She's sitting on a cushioned chair with her feet tucked up under her bare butt. I smile at her. This is something I've seen often: she gets excited about a game, and immediately gets sucked into the rulebook.

"Good choice"," Ms. Larson says upon spying the game Lauren has out. It's Battlestar Galactica. I haven't seen either version of the show, but I remember Ms. Larson saying it was her favorite game. Lauren seems to have remembered that too.

"If it's your favorite, it must be good," Lauren replies absentmindedly without looking up from the rules.

Ms. Larson slinks over to a chair opposite Lauren and pours herself into it. The dress she's wearing flows perfectly around her body with every movement. She is sexuality incarnate, beauty personified, and nearly upsetting to be around. And she's about to play a board game with us and really seems to be the most interested person in the group.

"So, how does this game work?" I ask Lauren, settling onto a chair next to Lauren, while Delilah happily drops down next to Ms. Larson.

Between the two of them, though Ms. Larson does most of the heavy lifting, they explain the rules to me and we get going. It's a complicated game, primarily cooperative but with a hidden traitor mechanic that is fun to navigate. It takes me and Lauren several turns to really pick it up and start figuring out the deeper strategy behind the game, but once we get there, we lock in quickly. Lauren has a devilish mind for deceit, another point in her favor when it comes to acting, but it makes any game that involves lying to others difficult to play with her.