TWENTY-THREE Excursion
ZACHARY
If anything can make me believe in divinity or a higher power, it’s having my cock buried up to the hilt within Sadie. It’s like being delivered from all the negativity in the world. Like living through a religious experience. And it’s not any secret that I’ve been with fewer lovers than either Dom or Jerome. But Sadie approving of my performance—especially after I thought I might’ve let her down—fills me with relief.
I might’ve even kissed her feet in gratitude if I’d had enough wherewithal after coming so hard to accomplish the feat.
This is the second time I’ve sunk into her tonight, but she’s up for it. Shit, she’s even demanding it. Right after she gave Jerome a blowjob so potent that he acted as if he might teeter to the floor—and climaxed on top of Dom just like she did me—she scooted onto her back and waved me over again.
“After this, I want you, Jerome. Then, Dom, if you want me again, you can have me.”
And once I pushed myself in, she gazed up at me in welcome. I never would’ve imagined myself open to sharing a woman like this, but now that I have, I’m savoring it. Savoring her.
I’m no longer concerned about us guys being against each other or making physical contact. I think all of us are straight, not that it matters. The main thing is that I don’t need to be all uptight about any of this.
I can just go with the flow.
It’s so much better to let everything unfold, to allow Sadie to be what she really is: in charge. I’m in her hands right now. We all are, and I’m enjoying how freeing it is. Besides, Not only is Sadie all warmed up, she’s so sopping that sliding my cock inside her is like stepping into a jacuzzi at precisely the right temperature.
Warm.
Safe.
Totally dope.
Yeah, I know part of that slippiness is from Dom, but part of it is also me. And even if it wasn’t, I’m receiving the benefit so why complain?
She wants us all again, so I’m making this time count. I can go for so much longer this time that I have no problem making her orgasm twice in quick succession. I’ve learned what she needs and use that to my advantage.
I’m going for another one from her, my head down, my lips plastered to her neck, her breasts against my bare chest, when she wraps her legs around me. She clenches down, not only with those legs but with her pussy, climaxing again, and that’s all she wrote for me. I pour myself within the depths of her with as much gusto as I did the first time.
Breaths are still sawing in and out of us when I roll off her, and she motions for Jerome to take over. He does, not even bothering with waiting for me to get completely out of the way. He simply fucks her as her hand rests on top of me. I turn on my side, taking that hand. Dom clambers back up on her other side, weaving his fingers into her hair, and it’s like the three of us are having her at the same time.
Making love to her at the same time.
Literally, we’re not, but somehow, it still feels that way.
She comes at least twice more—damn, I’m so tired now that I’m losing count—and Jerome’s bellow announces his second of the evening. Dom goes again, and my eyes shut of their own accord. I’m conscious of everything that’s going on. I hear it, smell it, feel it. We’re all sweat-slicked, all high on life, high on her. But it’s only after she and Dom are finished a few orgasms later that I realize that Jerome’s attempting to snag my attention.
I open my eyes to see each of them standing at the side of the bed while Sadie dozes in the center of it.
“Come here, man.”
I lug my exhausted ass up and instantly see what he means. She’s lying there prone, legs still loose and wide open, the white streams of our combined come trickling out of her and onto the sheets. My cock gives a reenergized twitch at the sight.
Really, dude? Aren’t you satisfied after all that? We’ve been doing this for hours now.
“Why is that so hot?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“I know, right?” Jerome says. “I’m half erect again. And that’s without a single milligram of Viagra.”
He is.
So is Dom, who shrugs. “She’s beautiful and full of our seed. Something primal within us really likes that.” Dom might not seem like the most intellectual among us, but the man’s making a lot of sense. “But we can’t let her sleep like that. Let’s clean her up.”
He kisses her lips until she stirs, then murmurs something about taking care of her.
She sits up, looking both debauched and adorable with her hair tangled and all over the place, her lips pinker than normal and swollen. Dom helps her up, and the next thing I hear is the shower. I wonder if he’s in there with her.
Probably.
Meanwhile, Jerome and I change out the bedlinens, so Sadie doesn’t have to worry about any wet spots. Of which there are more than one.
Finally, the sheets are fresh, and Sadie and Dom steal out of her bathroom smelling like her fancy soap and shampoo. He even stations her at the seating area off to the side and brushes out her hair. Once the four of us are dressed for some heavy sleep time, we all tumble back into the bed, all of us huddled together without regard for who’s touching who.
Our heads hit our pillows even though the sun is rising outside.
And I don’t remember much after that.
––––––––
AS TUMULTUOUS AS THEmonth of December was, January seems to have turned things around. Sadie takes us all snowboarding, even though she sometimes struggles to maintain her balance. We keep to the bunny slopes, falling more often than we stay upright at first. I get the hang of it, and so does Dom, but for as built as Jerome is, he’s a bit of a klutz on the snow.
That’s when he shouts out something I’m stunned to hear.
“I’m a reader more than an athlete. We can’t all be jocks like Zach over there.”
I don’t know whether to be flattered or astounded. Either way, I nearly plant myself face-first into a snowbank again.
With Maxine there during the weekdays, we tend to conduct our activities on the more PG-rated side of things. We’ll hang out in the living room by the fire. We’ll watch movies or shows in the home theater. We’ll pester the house manager as she prepares meals in the kitchen. Or at least, I do. That’s kind of our thing.
Every week or so, I’ll call or Zoom with Mom and Dad. Today, it’s a call. And right off the bat, I notice that Mom’s sounding worse, even if she’s cheerful in spirit.
“Are you having fun on your New Hampshire excursion?” she asks, her voice a rasp.
Neither of my parents know what I’m truly doing here. They think I’ve accepted employment at a ski lodge for a tidy sum. They never heard about the Fans4You incident, either. I might’ve grown up with them as my legal guardians and beloved caregivers, but it’s been a while since I felt like their carefree kid.
“I am. Got to snowboard the other day.”
“Sounds exciting,” Dad chimes in. “At least it’s not all work and no play.”
“Nope,” I say brightly. They seriously have no clue. But that’s on me, of course.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. They have enough to fret about with Mom’s numerous doctor’s visits and their dwindling finances.
“You guys need anything? I could send you a care package with New Hampshire stuff in it.”
“Ooh, that’d be nice,” Mom says at the same time as Dad replies, “Not necessary, son.” Then he backtracks.
“Unless you’d like something, Heidi.”
“I would. We’ve driven through there, but I don’t remember if we stopped to actually smell the roses.”
“We did,” Dad reminds her, sounding cautious. Mom doesn’t recall things like she used to. “Remember that pear orchard? And the pumpkin patch with the cornstalk maze?”
“Oh, yes.”
Yet I can tell from her tone that she’s faking it. She does this a lot nowadays. Falsifies her memories so Dad and I won’t worry.
We still do.
But all I can do is what I’m doing. I’m saving every dime Elegance deposits in my account for them. Though I guess I need to ask Sadie what might be around here that would be appropriately touristy enough to mail them.
As soon as I ask her, she knows just the thing.
“We could go to the Market in Meredith. It’s only about an hour and a half away, and the roads should be clear now. They have all sorts of mugs and stuff your parents might like. And I’ll stick one of our bottles of wine in, too. They come from all over, but we have plenty from right here in New Hampshire.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” I double check with her. I don’t want to raid the stores that her deceased mother and father collected.
“Not at all. We can go tomorrow.”
I’m a talker most of the time, but as Jerome drives us away from the chalet and across the most rural area I’ve ever been to, I say virtually nothing. I’m too caught up in what lies right outside this SUV’s windows. Forest for as far as the eye can see and mountains that change in elevation so that rivers and lakes become visible in the valleys.
It’s gorgeous.
Sadie’s been playing some music in the background up in her shotgun position when she turns to me.
“All right, Dom is the strong and silent sort. Jerome is a reader and gets contemplative. But you? Why aren’t you jabbering all our heads off?”
I’d be offended, but she’s not wrong.
“I’m just...” I gesture towards all the majesty surrounding us. “Taking in all the natural beauty.”
“Never took you for the crunchy granola type wanting to live in the woods,” she teases, her eyes twinkling. It does me good to notice this. To reflect on how sunny her mood’s been lately.
Even the mention of her parents when we discussed her family’s wine cellar didn’t cause any alteration in her. In fact, she’s wearing a knit cap with a poof on the top. So, I figure turnabout is fair play.
“Never took you for the cute little poof on a beanie type.”
She reaches up, her slender fingers feeling out the poof as if she forgot it was even there. “That’s Win’s fault. She sent it to me from Iceland.”
“Win?”
“Winter Corsair. My best friend.”
“You have a best friend?” Jerome glances at her with wide eyes. “Why is this the first time we’re hearing about her?”
In a Dom-like gesture, Sadie lifts a shoulder and lets it drop, not bothering to make eye contact as she rearranges her left hand. “I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to keep her a secret. We chat over text and email all the time. She’s part of the reason you three are here.”
I blink at her. “Really? How? Did you tell her about us?”
Suddenly Sadie peers up at me, reminding me of a deer caught in the headlights before the expression fades. “Yes. It is a unique situation, after all.”
“True,” Jerome picks up the discussion, and whatever bizarreness I picked up on passes.
Maybe I imagined it.
Besides, the Meredith Market has a myriad of kitschy souvenirs perfect for my needs. There are cards in the shape of pine trees, stickers of every shape and size, postcards featuring lots of local sights, stuffed black bears, a ceramic teapot covered in bright autumn leaves and tons more. Mom would have a field day in here.
I just wish Dad and I could come back and visit this shop with her in tow. Hell, I could carry her in piggyback style. She never weighed much, and in her increasingly frail state...
Well, I’d rather not think about all that. I’m not playing dumb. I realize that MS doesn’t currently have a cure and that her treatments are becoming less and less effective. But I’m not giving up on her. Not ever. If I hadn’t come across Elegance, I would’ve begged, borrowed, or stolen whatever necessary to get Mom the medical care she requires.
The gift she needs the most is for this shit to go into permanent remission.
The thought of her wasting away into nothing is excruciating.
“Hey, man, I found a fridge magnet shaped like New Hampshire state with covered bridges on it. Do they like campy?” Someone asks me. Jerome.
But, no. Or at least she didn’t used to.
She used to love minimalist and simple decor. Classical styles because she’s a class act. That’s what Dad has always said. He’s right, too. She is a class act. Abruptly, my throat closes up, a knot in it the size of a fist, and the only thing I can do is abandon the store without explanation.
It’s only as I’m inhaling that frigid outside air that I’m able to calm down. It’s Sadie who catches up to me, but I don’t look at her. Instead, I stare at a sign advertising the market’s homemade ice cream.
“If you aren’t finding what you like, we can switch stores.”
Sadie is being kind. Way too kind. It’s making my throat hurt worse.
“Not...Not necessary,” I croak like a fucking bullfrog.
“Zach...” She grips my shoulder, but I can’t take it. I jerk away from her, requiring some space. It’s only when I hear her gasp with obvious pain that I whirl back around to find her sprawled over the gravel-littered parking lot.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I scoop her up. She’s not crying or making any sort of agonized sounds, but I do detect blood on her knees at the same instant that Dom and Jerome step outside to discover us.
And that’s how I find myself in the unenviable position of hovering over her like some slack-jawed brute.
Fuck me.