I was just beginning to appreciate the stand-up threesome we were having when Lindy whispered to me, “Let’s go to the bedroom,” separating us from the complaining Carolyn who staggered off to collapse on the double bed in the living room. We tried the bedroom door but it was locked. “Shit!” cursed Lindy. “Already in use. But that’s okay,” she said after a moment, “c’mon,” and pulled me by the hand back into the living room and into a long, L-shaped closet. She locked the door from the inside and put the key in my pocket as she undid my belt and pulled down my pants and underwear. The dim light from a vent window at the back of the closet made her smiling face visible enough as she held my stiffening pole in both hands as if it were a rare gift. “Care’s out of it tonight, Nick. But I’m not gonna let you go as easily! Before Mom gets here, I need a coupla more tastes!” she said.
“In a closet?” I asked, simultaneously amused and confused.
“The bedroom’ll be free soon. I just can’t wait,” she said as she slipped her warm, moist lips over my prick. I groaned, raised my head heavenward and thought, Jeezus, the women in this family love cock! I was only partially correct. The women in Lindy’s family loved sex in many forms, and obviously selected their men as tools of pleasure. I could hardly object, since over the past months I’d come to see women as mere toys for my own sexual exploits. Besides, I hadn’t yet had a blow job in a musty French closet, so I acquiesced to being used as an implement for Lindy to practice on while developing her rapidly-improving oral talents.
The bedroom was eventually free, and Carolyn joined us in bed in the early morning, very hung over. She hadn’t gotten laid after the party, being passed out, and during the night it had been good to have Lindy alone, away from her roommate, since the latter had been merely a tasty distraction for me. And even though I could see that the two girls’ brief foray into bisexuality the previous night might benefit me in the short run, I was restless and impatient, piqued by Maureen’s visit just hours away.
I checked into the local youth hostel, stashing my pack and other belongings in a locker, showered, and set out to see the picturesque university town, with a plan to join Maureen for dinner with the girls. When I met them in the hotel’s restaurant, she gave me the standard air kiss on each cheek, then I was seated across the table from her, with the girls facing one another on opposing sides. “Well. Tell me all the nasty gossip you kids have stirred up in the past weeks,” she said, looking directly at me.
I shrugged, and the girls started chattering away about their classes and social lives. Both of their hands were busy under the table, groping at my thighs, but at least they didn’t embarrass themselves, or me. Maureen informed us that she would be catching tomorrow’s train – leaving midday Sunday – for Rome. And since the girls would be in classes all week, I suggested that she and I travel together. She’d reserved a single sleeping berth, and I could ride as I always did in a six-person compartment, using my Eurailpass. At the end of dinner she kissed us all and asked that I walk the girls home, saying she’d see me the next day. That was for the benefit of the girls, since she also pinched me on the butt. I took that as an invitation and escorted the young ladies to their place, yet refused to go upstairs to their apartment, knowing that – if I did – I wouldn’t be able to escape their clutches ’til morning. Then I hurried, trotting back to Maureen’s hotel.