The Tableau That Is Lisa

Chapter Two

The next week

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All persons engaging in sexual activity in this true story were at least 18 years of age, when, all those many years ago the events in the story took place.

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This is a continuation of "Lisa's first time". I have just awakened with a splitting headache. In my bed, naked, sheets on the floor. Intertwined with Jamie, also naked. Her face and mine matching glazed donuts.

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But my plan was still perfectly logical. I loved George and George loved me, just not in that way yet. Since my eighteenth birthday I had been dressing in exactly the way that George had said he thought made me "even prettier". I had been helping more with our younger brothers. Doing all the cooking which I kinda liked, and the cleaning up which I did not. Now that Jamie was eighteen as well, and she seemed more likely than ever to be amenable to my scheme to get her together with George, I dropped all pretense.

Having accepted the role of cook, I decided that grease splatter was ruining my clothes. Fortunately, there was a simple solution. I would disrobe completely before donning Mom's apron to cook. If George was in the room, great I did so right in front of him. Often when he took notice, he would politely excuse himself. This required my following him out of the room while asking absurdly silly questions about the meal I was about to prepare. This show was for him after all.

Ever the gentleman he gave me an old pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt to cook in. Alas, the pants were too big to wear. But I did trim the bottom of the tee-shirt, so my pussy and my ass played peek-a-boo as I walked. I started having memory problems, I kept forgetting to get a clean towel before taking a shower. Forgetting to get dressed before leaving my room. I mistook one of his shirts for my sleeping shirt and managed to lose all my panties. (See, I am wearing your clothes, that means I belong to you.)

Best of all, after the boys went to sleep, I decided to lay down on the carpet in front of him on the sofa as we watched TV. I positioned myself so that he could clearly see up my backside. See my ass and my pussy that was getting wet just thinking about what I was doing. That scene made me so very wet, I hoped that he could see the moisture, smell my vaginal secretions. George was kind and polite, a gentleman. He wasn't stupid. He asked me to join him on the couch. So, I did. I snuggled up very close to him and positioned myself and his shirt, so that he could just see a bit of the gift I had waiting for him.

He put his arm around me and asked me if I had forgotten anything. "Nope, I have everything I need right here." He pointed out that I did not seem to be wearing any underwear. I told him that it wasn't an oversight it was a conscious decision of a grown woman. I asked him if he liked what he saw, he lifted the hem a little and told me that my pussy was every bit as beautiful as the rest of me. But that I should think about myself, more than him right now.

That I was six months from going to the U of T. He knew that I had been accepted, that he had no doubts that the other two schools I had applied to would say yes as well. I told him yes, I had thought it through. In language that sounded just like Mom, honest, clear, precise and to the point. I told him that it didn't mean it had to be forever, although that's just what I wanted, as I said the words. I was the clear voice of logic and reason.

It was a logical, rational means of coping with the fact that we were both going to leave soon, and that there were not appropriate suitors for either of us. That I love him, he loved me. That he always put my interests first, even now when horny little him was being offered some "downright purdy" pussy. I asked him to be my first boy. So that I would always remember that I was initiated into adulthood by the person whom I cared most about on this earth. Whom I had absolute trust in.

We agreed that it was a healthy release from our pent-up sexual frustration. Making love with someone who loved us for the people we really were. People whom always had our best interests at heart. It was beautiful.

I am sure my first time with Jamie was beautiful too. We were just both too drunk to remember it. Neither Jamie nor I remembered any details of the first time we made love. We just woke up the day after our birthday. (Sorry Mom, Jamie's birthday has been our shared birthday ever since.) We woke up covered in each other's pussy juice and neither of us saw it as wrong.

So, when I went down on her, and she returned the favor to me in the early morning's light. We probably were not very good at it, but that did not matter. We were both grown women who knew exactly what we were doing, who we were doing it to and for. Jamie and I loved each other as friends, sisters by choice, lovers.

Blessed are the pure of heart for they will see God. -Matthew 5.8

Man looks at the outward appearance. God looks at the heart. -First Samuel 16.7

This is how I know, in my heart, that I am a good person. I am not oblivious or stupid. I know that I could have cashed in my chips, so to speak. Continued a sweet Sapphic twosome, Velma and Daphne. But what about Fred Jones. I mean George. He was out there too. He deserved to feel like I did, and like Jamie did when we played together. I had to get him into our two, cum, uh come, three some.

So, I made my offer perfectly clear on the sofa that night. George accepted. We sat, we snuggled, he put one arm around me, and played with my exposed pussy with the other. It was as if a beautiful dream had come true, his gentle touch on my most sensitive flesh. I came, and then I blew him. My first taste of penis, and I was lucky enough to get the world's best one. Attached to my dream boy.

In my fifty-nine years I have only sucked on two dicks, each one about fifteen thousand times. But only two. I am such a lucky girl, they are the world's two best. Why would I need more. The two penises that planted their seed deep within both Jamie and I giving us our children. Best of all, George's was my first.

He went down on me, and I came again. It was Friday night. Mom and Dad were not due back until Tuesday. We slept, once we were exhausted enough to sleep, for the next two nights in Mom and Dad's bed. Saturday morning George stood behind me to block our brothers and Jamie's view, and fondled my ass as I made our breakfast in my, his, peek-a-boo tee and Mom's apron. Later he ran his hand from bottom to top along my slit as he brought me a fresh towel as I turned off the shower, "just in case I had forgotten".

The boys were out riding their BMXs or something that 'kids' did. (How would I know, heck I had been an adult for like two months now.) He started to pick me up. He lifted me, still wet from my shower, and gently sat me on the vanity. He opened my towel in front of me and his eyes were the eyes of a child opening the best Christmas present ever. He kissed my cunt, and I started to gush. He gently sucked on my labia, he flicked my clitoris with his tongue and tried to suck my nectar as if he were a hummingbird.

After I had come. He gently stroked my pubic hair with the hairs on the back of his hand. He asked me if it was the same as when Jamie did it. The same... Not... Is one... Or the other... Better... Are they the... Same... He knows... What does... This mean... I rarely care what other people think. But George is not 'other people'. I looked at him. He looked at me in a way only he can. Where he looks past my eyes and into my soul. Then he kissed me so deeply. It was not a problem.

I dropped my towel, and naked as a jaybird, led him by the hand to my room. Jamie was doing some homework sitting on her bed, listening to music on her headphones. Wearing panties and a tee-shirt. I knew how she felt about George. She had told me how "perfect" she thought he was. When I had hinted that they might be "perfect" together, she demurred. It was just tragic, the deprivation of her childhood left her feeling deeply flawed. Jamie saw herself far differently than George or I saw her.

I walked over to her and slowly lifted her tee-shirt up over her head. She stared at me. But made no move to stop me. In fact, she wiggled her ass a little to help me. I reached down and unhooked her bra. Again, while staring into my eyes, she moved a tiny bit to facilitate its removal. I took George's hand again and led him to sit on the bed next to Jamie. He stared at me, and at her, and back to me. I took Jamie's left breast in my hands and held it caressed it. Then I guided his head to it.

Saying, "she wants you, she wants you to touch her as you touch me, but she is too shy to ask."

He looked through her eyes and into her soul as he does to me. Jamie made the tiniest movement shaking her head 'yes' a tiny fore and aft movement of maybe a quarter inch, smiling, crying happy tears. George took one breast to his mouth. I sat down next to her on the right and took her other breast. Our first three way.

We played 'Brady Bunch', George was Mr. Brady, the first few times Jamie was Mrs. Brady and I was Alice. I kept both Mr. and Mrs. Brady happy as they hid from their children and rekindled their romance multiple times before Mom and Dad got home. The head of the FCC likely would have had a fatal coronary had he seen that 'lost episode'.

As the clock ran out, we did the considerable laundry and tidied up the master bedroom. George had to move back onto the couch. He had kindly vacated the boy's room, to give them some space, sleeping in the master bedroom except for those few days Mom and Dad were home. Then he crashed on the couch. We would play again soon, and Jamie got to be Alice after Mom and Dad were on the road again.

But that is another story.

Lisa Ann