My wife and I have birthdays ten days apart. This year I
decided to do something special to celebrate. Janey’s
was the previous Monday, mine the upcoming Thursday, so
for this weekend between I developed a plan.

By the time I’d finished with the preparatory part I was
feeling physically beaten. Hustling around town in all
the Friday after-work traffic, and then the arrangements
with the kids nearly fell apart. Man, I don’t know. It
was all set up that they’d be staying overnight at our
friends’ place. Their kids and ours get along fine, and
we’ve had this reciprocal agreement for well over a
year. If anything, we were owed a few sleepovers.

I get there, they put up a stink, start hemming and
hawing, and in the end ask for a baby-sitting fee. A
stiff one. In cash. In advance. Some friends! I added to
my mental lists. Tonight: hit the bank machine on the
way home. Tomorrow: lose the friends.

My plan entailed either a nice dinner out, or else a
nice dinner in. I had the cash in my wallet and the
goods in the fridge. I’d leave it up to Janey what we’d
have to eat. For dinner, that is. Dessert, well… I had
this vague vision of donning our birthday suits and
partying all night long. With no interruptions, or the
hint or possibility of interruption.

We live in about the tiniest house imaginable. Any
smaller and it’d be a pioneer cabin on the prairie. It
seems fairly common that a couple’s first child is
regarded as a miracle of sorts. But I save that
designation for our second one. I mean, the big miracle
was that we ever managed to find the moment of privacy
to mix together the vital ingredients. There was talk
for awhile of having a third, but it never amounted to
anything but talk.

By the time I got back from dropping the kids I was in a
pretty sour mood. It would have been so much easier if
my sister the super-Aunt had been able to take the kids.
That was the original schedule, but then she’d begged
off because of some last minute plans of her own. Shit,
now I’d have to be getting up at dawn to get the kids
before our friends sold them on the baby market.

Needless to say I was not happy to see the car parked in
front of our house. That would be Sheila. What was she
doing over? The thing about my sister is that she never
just popped in for a minute. If she came in the door she
stayed in the door for hours. Janey and Sheila can just
yack and yack and yack.

I should be glad that the two of them are such fast
friends, but that’s always been a given. They’re the
same age, a year older than me, and they first met their
freshman year in college. I’d heard great tales of Janey
more than three years before I met her. Sheila brought
her home for Thanksgiving their final year, and I just
happened to be home from my university as well.

Janey snuck into my room and jumped my bones the very
first night and I’ve been an addict ever since. It
wasn’t until after we were married that Janey let it
slip that she’d been badgering Sheila on my account for
quite awhile.

So Sheila, is there another one like you at home, but
with a dick. Oh my, he’s cute. I think I’ll take him! So
much for all that nonsense about chance, fate and free
will. Shooting fish in a barrel, that’s how I was
landed.

I get along great with Sheila. There’s always a bit of
that Bossy Older Sister Syndrome. And the confusion of
growing up. First I was in love with her; she was the
perfect idol. Then she turned into a yucky girl and I
loathed her. Then she turned into a yummy girl and I
entered a period of vague lust.

Now that we’re all grown up we have one of those rare
sibling relationships. It’s not the shared history and
blood that binds us. I like hanging around with her
because I genuinely like her.

Not that any of this made me any happier to see her
sitting in my living room. Sitting and sitting in my
living room. After a brief greeting, the two of them
continued chatting away. As though I hadn’t come in.
They were hogging the sofa between them, which left me
to sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs. Buy some
comfortable chairs, I noted. I seized a pause in their
conversation to say just that. “Hey Janey, how about we
go out sometime and buy some chairs designed to be sat
in?”

She graced me with a blank look, gave a quick shake of
her head, then answered, “That sounds good, honey.
Whatever you say, Ray. Whatever you want.” And then they
went on talking about other things.

Well, what I wanted had nothing really to do with chairs
except as props. Anytime the talk veered towards a
subject that might allow me to enter in with a comment,
my comment was brushed aside and the conversation
quickly steered elsewhere.

I sat around trying not to be too grim, but eventually I
was fed up. I took to my feet and stood there for the
longest time without being noticed. Eventually I poked
Sheila’s knee with the toe of my shoe.

“Hello! What are you doing here anyway? I thought you
had plans for tonight.”

“I do,” Sheila responded crisply.

Oh, I was in a pissy evil mood. “Oh yea? What? You gonna
get laid or something?”

“As a matter of fact,” she leveled a very cool gaze at
me, “that’s exactly what I intend to do. All in good
time.”

“What’s your problem Ray?” Janey came to her defense.
“If you’re in a bad mood, why don’t you stuff it in your
pocket and go away.”

I gave up. I shrugged and left the room, heading into
the kitchen for a beer. There were some snorting sounds,
and then peals of laughter behind my back.

I stormed off down into the basement to work on my
project. Cellar is a more apt description of the space.
It’s squat and chilly and damp, but it’s all mine. I
have a workbench down there, with tools. I’m a
woodworker, or a sculptor, or something. I don’t have
any artistic pretensions, I just need a title to define
what I do. It involves a large hunk of tree trunk, like
a chopping block, that was one of the deluxe features
that came with the house. I never felt like summoning
the strength or friends to help me lug it up the stairs
and outside. Since then I’ve added to it. Scraps of
boards, nails. Some artists use brushes or chisels.

Me, I got a hammer. It’s hard to say exactly what I’m
making, or if it’ll ever be finished. I have my doubts.
Its purpose is pretty obvious. When I’m about to boil, I
come down here and blow off steam. The therapeutic value
of banging nails with a hammer. I envision the day when
I stand back and see it as complete, and then I’ll haul
it up and mount it out in the yard. Already I’ve given
it a title. “My Anger, Dispelled.”

Of course when I consider the likelihood of the day ever
arriving when everything in life makes me go kissy-
kissy, the chances seem better that eventually I’ll be
dead and some poor realtor will have to deal with this
nice little house with a nightmare in the basement. Too
big to fit through the door, too heavy to lift, and
impossible to dismantle. I use very serious nails, and
slather the wood first with a real mean hide glue.

I went at it for about twenty minutes. Bang bang bam!
Then I’d hear little female footfalls on the
floorboards, chatter and laughter echoing in metallic
haunts down through the ductwork. Bang bang BAM! A
screech, a shriek, a chair being shifted. BANGBANGBANG
bam. Murmurs in stereo, than a single piercing giggle.
God damndamndamn DAMN! I wound up running out of scrap
wood.

Though I wasn’t any happier, all the tension had flowed
down my arms and into my creation. I took a few steps
back. Lookin’ good! In the current stage it suggested a
few possibilities to me. Birthday party time! I washed
my hands in the little utility sink I’d managed to
successfully install down there. From there I planned to
go upstairs and straight out the front door, wordlessly.
Take a small walk. Grab a decent bite on the way and
wind up at Hed’s, the only bar where all my real friends
ever hang out.

I knew in advance how that would turn out. If I went to
Hed’s with a friend or two, we’d walk in the front door
to discover that everyone in the universe I knew was
there. The bartender would wave at me madly and have
what I wanted ready before I got to the station. The
jukebox would be playing exactly every song that I
wanted to hear.

I’d hardly dare to put a quarter in the pinball
machines, because I’d wind up playing for half an hour
off the one coin. All the atoms of tiny round tables
would drift together as our crowd created a brand new
element. There would be several intriguing people I’d
never met so thrilled to meet me as I charmed them with
my wit and intelligence. Beautiful women would stand up
to refresh their drinks, turning first to ask if they
could get me another.

When I went up alone, I would enter through the back
door so I could have a clear view of everyone there.
Invariably there would not be a familiar face in all the
place. I would be virtually invisible to the bartender,
who would be surly and forgetful. I could slip my life’s
savings into the jukebox and never hear a song I’d
played. A game of pinball would be all three balls
instantly gone through the gap between the flippers.

I would remain Mr. Hydrogen, at my tiny table wherever
in the room, sitting unbonded. Not only would no one
talk to me, but no one would even glance my way. Between
my second and third drink I would have the usual
epiphany: why are you sitting drinking in a bar full of
people you don’t know? My standard recourse would be to
have another round, deciding then to either finish up
and leave or answer why not?

I was about to depart on what would certainly rise to
the upper reaches of the list of my most dismal birthday
celebrations. Just as I was turning to leave I was
caught by the last piece of wood I’d hammered on. It
stood straight out, pointing at me like an index finger.
The stance was almost accusatory, but really there was
something so kinetic about its placement that it seemed
more like a nag frozen in mid-wag. Then the whole piece
spoke to me. Duh, dumb fuck, you’re going in the wrong
door!

I nearly wept on the spot. It was the best present I’d
ever received.

I took the stairs in bounds, stopped in the hall to grab
a coat from the rack, then composed myself for the quick
waltz through the living room to the front door.

I stepped in the room and froze. Janey and Sheila were
basically where I’d left them. Janey had slid down the
sofa a bit while Sheila was kneeling on the floor in
front of her like she was tempting her with new shoes.
But there weren’t any shoes. The shoes were like the
rest of their clothes, tossed and scattered around the
room. The pair of them were absolutely naked, and
Sheila’s head was burrowed between Janey’s wide-spread
thighs.

Janey gave me a glazed sort of look, a big smile
slurring the words, “Happy Birthday baby, whyn’t you
come join the party!”

Sheila looked up with a glistening face long enough to
say, “We’re just reliving the glory of our college days.
Too bad you never visited. Janey’s told me plenty about
what a talented tongue you have.”

With that she returned to Janey’s crotch, while lifting
her own rump higher, widening her thighs, and exposing
the inflamed parts of her treasure nest. Her hands
retreated from Janey’s labia to her own, spreading her
lips in imitation. In a narcotic whisper Janey crooned,
“Help yourself, baby, it’s an open invitation.”

By then my nose was stuffed full with the smell of ripe
pussy. I was instantly intoxicated and on the floor,
scooting forward and turning on my back as I placed
myself between Sheila’s knees, grabbing her ass and
pulling her flowering lips down towards mine. There was
a golden chalice brimming with nectar, and I was
thirsting for every drop.

It was hard to say which movement was more frantic, my
tongue licking her lips or her cunt rubbing against my
mouth. I heard some muffled words from far away that
sounded like Suck my clit! so I did. There was an
intense groan followed by screams that I felt resounding
back up from the very floor joists. That would be Janey;
Sheila was still on the journey. I grabbed the cheeks of
her ass with both my hands and kneaded them like plump
hunks of bread dough, pulling her down, down, my tongue
lashing back and forth from slit to clit.

Right as I felt my reward beginning in the clenching of
her thighs, a pair of hands started peeling off my
clothes, the fingers lingering, tracing sexy lines on
every square inch of my revealed skin. While a small
hand grasped my big cock, a pretty voice whispered like
a breeze through trees, “Mmm, yea, suck your sister’s
cunt. Doesn’t her pussy taste delicious?”

That it did, and then much more so as Sheila let go,
screaming and creaming all over my face. Janey plunged
her mouth down on my cock, taking it all the way down
her throat, pulling back up to just the head, sinking
down and up and down and up. I wanted to tell her to
slow down but there was no way for the words to leave my
mouth. Fortunately Sheila then slowly shifted around.
And then there were four hands, two sets of lips and a
pair of tongues lightly covering every surface of my
cock.

They were teasing me supremely but I didn’t mind. I
still had Sheila’s sex nudging against my mouth. I left
her clit alone to come down from its hypersensitive
state. My tongue had plenty enough to occupy its time,
leisurely lapping up the spill of her juice. But once
they started giggling together, I lashed my tongue out,
tickling and licking her clit, nibbling it with my lips,
working them together to suck her off like crazy.

The assault caught Sheila by surprise and she simply
exploded. There was no time for grunting and moaning,
she went straight off howling. I seriously thought she
was going to fracture my skull. As nice a way to die as
any, I supposed. She rolled off me gasping and panting.
Janey looked down at me while stroking me with both
hands, her eyes two big supernovas, exclaiming only,
“Amazing. Fucking amazing!”

I thought so.

Janey rose up on her haunches, straddling me, then sank
down, fucking me very, very slowly, her eyes gone to
slits, a wide thin smile on her face. She leaned over
and kissed me deeply as Sheila began to stir, then she
lifted herself off me. Sheila moved over and gave my
glistening cock several long cat licks.

Janey bent down and seized each of us by an arm and
announced, “Enough of the cake, let’s move into the
bedroom and go for the icing.”

They each grabbed me by the hand as we started off down
the hall. I hung back a little, then Janey looked back.
“Isn’t that cute? He’s checking us out.”

Flustered I muttered, “I feel like a hick in Paris. All
the sights are so-o fine.” I withdrew my hands and
caught up, letting my hands slide down between each of
their rumps. Cupping, squeezing, my middle fingers
trailing up into the lushness of their labias. “I do
believe I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Sheila reached over and gave my jutting cock a squeeze.
“You still feel incredibly alive to me.”

Janey teased, “You will wind up in heaven, but so far
you’ve barely started on the way.”

They pulled down the covers then pushed me down in the
middle of the bed, clambering in on either side of me
and rolling my legs wide. I thought, breathlessly, that
they were both going to go back to scaling old Knob Hill
together again, but instead they just snuggled up
against me. I had a thigh wedged between each of their
thighs. Simply lying there like that felt exceptionally
nice. Three mouths sharing one kiss. Then Janey raised
up on her elbows and scooted up a little, with Sheila
quickly following.

“Look,” Janey giggled, “I’d say he’s in titty heaven.”
Well, that was an accurate assessment. There was all
this soft flesh contrasted with stiff nipples rubbing
against my chest and brushing across my face. I wound up
with a breast in each hand while they crushed the other
two together so I could get both nipples in my mouth.

I added a note to my general list: buy a bigger mouth! I
was going wild having two different types of breasts in
my face at the same time. It was like being a little kid
and discovering chocolate ice cream–it didn’t usurp
vanilla as a favorite flavor, instead expanding the
sheer pleasure of ice cream about ten-fold.

“Watch this,” Janey told Sheila. “Ray just loves this.
It drives him crazy.” With that warning she slipped a
hand between Sheila’s legs, returning with fingers slick
and fragrant. She smeared the cunt sauce on Sheila’s
nipple while Sheila reached down in imitation to double
the pleasure. Whoa, shit! You can get ice cream hand-
dipped or soft-serve!

Crazy? Did someone say crazy? The word didn’t begin to
describe the way the circuits in my brain were frying. I
could hear them popping and hissing. There was stinky
smoke billowing out my ears!

Finally Sheila moved up and around, murmuring something
about wanting to get better acquainted with that big
fuck stick. That was fine with me. In all the excitement
I’d almost forgotten about it.

No one can say I wasn’t brought up right. When someone
gives you a present, you tell them thank you as soon as
possible. Poor Janey looked like she was a little tired,
her bottom sort of sore. I pulled her up figuring my
face would make for a very pleasant seat. She sat down
with a big sigh.

Knowing I’d be in close quarters, I exaggerated the
motions of my tongue and lips. Oh, thank you, thank you
thank you thank you thank you! It didn’t take her long
to squeal You’re welcome. The whole while Sheila had my
cock in her mouth. My sperm was a string of
thoroughbreds anxiously waiting to run the Derby. The
starting bell kept clanging away, but Sheila would never
quite let the gates lift.

Janey slung herself off me, then crawled over to where
Sheila had rolled away on her back. Sheila had her legs
bent and spread. Janey reached down with her hands and
gently parted my sister’s plush pink gates. I lay there
watching in a stunned state. “Wake up, Ray! I think
Sheila wants you to fuck her now.” Sheila smiled and
swiveled her hips in agreement.

That was enough of a wake-up call for me. I got up and
approached on all fours. It took me forever to cover the
distance. The bed seemed to have lengthened to the size
of a football field. There’s something about the sight
of a woman willing, wanting and waiting that makes time
slow wa-a-ay down.

Finally I reached my destination, parking my hips
between her thighs. No doubt I could have slid right in
without assistance from either of us, but Janey seemed
to take particular delight in playing the tour guide,
grabbing my cock and slowly, leisurely rubbing the head
all up and down Sheila’s eager parts. “Put it in,
Janey,” she groaned, “for godsakes, put it in!” Janey
complied lovingly, ending her double tease.

“You be sure to do her good,” she patted my ass while
putting her tongue in my ear.

I always pride myself on doing it good. Pride, of
course, coming as it does before the fall, I kept myself
from doing it too good at first, not wanting to fall
that fast. Sheila just locked down, her gaze on mine and
her limbs around me. She never said a word, and made not
a sound, not even when her mouth gaped open so wide her
eyes were squeezed shut. An armory was exploding inside
her, silently. Her entire body went totally tense,
slowly melting away into complete laxity.

Sheila grabbed my head and began covering my lips with
nippy little kisses. “See,” she panted, “I told you I
planned to get laid tonight!”

Dumb me and my astonished face as it dawned on me. “I
was set up!”

Sheila pulled out from under me, then rolled over,
displaying a new angle to her charms. “Let me set you up
once more.” I grabbed onto her hips as she snaked a hand
back to insert me inside again.

Janey pulled her fingers out of her cunt long enough to
scoot over for a closer look. “Oh god, Sheila, you
should see how sexy this looks. So hot! His big purple
cock sliding in and out of your red hot twat! Come on
baby, pump her, pump her pussy, pump her pussy full of
come!” Janey had her free hand on my balls practically
yanking them off while Sheila’s cunt clenched at my cock
as she went off wilding again. I really had no choice in
the matter. I picked up the pace, slapping against her
ass, and started blowing a great big load.

I wasn’t even quite finished when Janey pulled us apart,
rolled Sheila on her back, then dove straight in for the
delights. Sheila stretched her arms out long towards me,
“Come here and let me have a taste too!” She took my
cockhead in her mouth, taking down the dwindling
pulsations, and then began licking my entire shaft
clean. She didn’t allow me the chance to get properly
soft. Once I was raging full again, she sort of batted
us both away. “Now I want to watch you fuck Janey.”

I moved up behind Janey, grabbing onto her lovely ass as
I slid my way in. Sheila came around beside me, trailing
her fingers all over us. “Oh Janey, you’re right, this
is such a beautiful sight.” Then she turned to me, “But
I know a way to have an even better view.” With that she
slid underneath Janey into a classic sixty-nine, except
that she had a cunt stuffed full of cock for her mouth
to play with.

We played with each other like a symphony, the movements
rising and falling for what seemed like hours until the
final climax, when we three crashed together, the triple
crescendo rattling the window panes and sending bits of
plaster scattering from off the walls.

We all drew up together in the bed for a mighty cuddle,
one of them having stepped up to turn out the light.
“Happy birthday!” Janey and I cooed at one another,
turning in unison to croon, “Birthday happy!” to Sheila.
Fingers slowly stroking and toes sort of kissing sent us
off to sweet sleep.

When I eventually woke up, my head was buried beneath a
pillow the way I usually wind up sleeping. I probably
wouldn’t have woken up so soon, but my morning erection
had wound up in a softly sucking mouth. I lay there
drifting in the luxurious feeling. No one ever quite
like Janey to drive my cock crazy.

I could sense that we were alone, though when Sheila had
gotten up to go I couldn’t tell. I do sleep very
soundly. I was thinking a nice blow job would be just
perfect before I had to get up to go fetch the kids.
Without warning my wet cock was alone in the cool air,
but then it was sunk deep in the cushy warmth that no
mouth can duplicate.

The pillow was stripped away from my face. But it was
Sheila gazing down at me with asterisks in her eyes.
“I’m so happy to have gotten back together with Janey,”
she whimpered, “but I’m ecstatic to have finally gotten
together with you.”

“Where is she?” I managed to ask.

She reached over to the night stand and retrieved a
note. Ray, it read, I’ve gone to get the kids. Will stop
at my folks and stay for a late-ish lunch. Fuck her good
again, and again and again and again!

Love, Janey.

“What time is it?” I gasped.

“Why, I’ve just sat down to breakfast,” Sheila grinned.
“Next is brunch, then lunch promptly at noon, which’ll
probably leave plenty of time for an early afternoon
snack. No reason to wait for birthday parties anymore!”