Chapter 2: Family Day By The Pool
The pool deck was blinding after the kitchen. Jordan crossed it on bare feet, still naked, still hard, and the sun laid heat on his shoulders like a hand. Behind him came the sound of seven pairs of feet and none of them hurrying.
"Loungers," Katherine said. "The wide one in the sun is his. The rest of you arrange yourselves."
Maren claimed the space at his left hip before the towel was even down. Vanessa took his right. Between them they pressed him flat onto the padded surface, and the vinyl was warm under his back, and above him there was nothing but blue sky and the white edge of the umbrella Vanessa snapped open without asking him if he wanted shade.
He didn't get shade. Katherine tilted the umbrella back with one finger.
"Sun on him. I want him golden by dinner."
Celeste appeared at the foot of the lounger holding a bottle of oil, amber and thick, and she warmed it between her palms while the whole deck watched. "Sunscreen first," she said. "Then we work him over properly."
It started at his ankles. The redhead, Priya, took one foot, the small blonde took the other, and the oil went on in long dragging strokes, up his calves, over his knees. Four hands. Six. He lost count as more joined, and the oil slicked him shin to hip, and every stroke pressed his thighs wider without asking.
"Relax," Maren said, close to his ear. She'd oiled her own chest; when she leaned over him her breasts dragged across his ribs, leaving hot slick trails, her hard nipples catching on his skin. "You're stiff. Not there. Everywhere else."
"I'm lying in front of nine people."
"You're lying in front of your family," Katherine corrected, settling onto the lounger beside his head. She'd pulled her silver hair loose from the bun and it fell heavy around her shoulders, and she was naked in the sun, and the gold band glinted as she reached down to touch his jaw. "Breathe, Jordan."
Vanessa's hands came around his cock. She'd oiled hers first; the grip was molten, and she stroked him once from base to crown, slow, watching his face do what it did. "Still hard. Good boy. You've been hard since the table."
"He came inside you like twenty minutes ago," Maren said, indignant, and she slapped Vanessa's wrist away and replaced it with both of her small hands stacked. "I'm next. I called it."
"You didn't call anything. You asked a question."
"'Who's next' was a question with an answer, and the answer is me."
Katherine sighed through her nose, the sound of a woman who had heard this exact argument for twenty years. "You'll share. Both of you, on him. Celeste, the oil."
Celeste poured a cold line of it down his sternum. He arched off the vinyl before he could stop himself, and the deck laughed, warm and low, and then there were hands everywhere. Maren straddled his thighs facing his feet and worked the oil into his stomach with both palms, dipping low enough that her wet slit brushed his abdomen every pass. Vanessa took his left arm and drew it out straight and stroked oil from his shoulder to his wrist, then pressed his hand flat against her breast.
"Hold on to something," she said.
The milk came back into it the way everything came back into it, as Katherine's idea. She nodded to Celeste, and Celeste knelt over his chest from the head of the lounger, knees bracketing his shoulders, and let a thin stream fall straight down onto his oiled collarbone. It ran in the oil. The whole deck smelled of coconut and jasmine and warm skin and the faint sweet iron of it, and Priya caught a handful from Celeste's breast and smeared it over his chest in place of lotion.
"Sunscreen SPF is pointless," the small blonde said, "but this feels amazing."
"His chest is a serving board now," Maren said, delighted, and bent and licked a stripe through milk and oil up his sternum, and her tongue was hot and her bob swung against his skin.
His cock lay against his own stomach, slick, flushed dark, twitching every time a breast or a thigh dragged across him. Vanessa looked down at it and then at Maren over the length of his body.
"Race you," Vanessa said.
"That's not fair, you're bigger."
"Then you'd better start."
Katherine lifted two fingers and the deck went still, because her stillness was a law. "No one rides him yet. First we finish the oil. Every inch, front and back. Celeste, flip him."
They flipped him. Eight hands, one motion, and Jordan landed face down on warm vinyl with the sun on his oiled back and the whole company looking at his ass. His face burned hotter than the sun did.
"Oh, this is the good part," Maren said.
The oil went on from his shoulders down, thumbs digging into the knots at the base of his neck, palms gliding over his spine, lower, over the flex of his glutes, and no one avoided anything. Priya kneaded one cheek and pulled it gently aside and poured a slow ribbon of oil down the cleft, and he made a sound into the towel and everyone heard it and nobody pretended they hadn't.
"He likes it," the blonde said.
"Of course he likes it." Katherine's voice came from directly beside his head. She'd moved her lounger flush to his. Her fingers slid into his hair, scratch light at his scalp. "He was raised by women. He knows how to be handled."
The hands kept going. Down his hamstrings, the backs of his knees, his calves, his feet, until he was boneless and gleaming and half drugged on sensation. Then Maren's oiled hand slipped between his thighs from behind and wrapped around him where he hung, and he jolted, and her breath went shaky against his shoulder blade.
"Van, come feel how hard he got from the back."
"I can see it."
"Feel it."
There was a pause, then Vanessa's longer fingers joined Maren's, both of them stroking him from below through the gap of his thighs, oil and milk and precome mixing, and Jordan fisted the towel under his head and breathed through his teeth.
"Mom," he managed, "this is."
"This is family day," Katherine said. "Yes."
"Turn him over," Celeste said. "He's done."
They turned him again, and the sun hit his front, and his cock stood up against his stomach, darker for the heat, a fat bead already at the tip. Maren and Vanessa looked at each other across the length of him.
"Rock paper scissors," Maren said.
"We are not deciding this like children."
"You got the table. I got the table. Fine. Van got to finish in her. So." Maren swung a leg over his hips and sat down on him without entering, just settling her slick folds along his shaft, sliding herself up and down the length of him slowly, torturously, her skirt gone, tank top long gone, the gold heart pendant hanging over his chest. "I'm on top, so I win. Van, you can hold his hand."
"Move over, Maren."
"Make me."
Katherine watched her two eldest girls grind their contest into her son's hips, and she reached for the pitcher of iced tea someone had brought out, unhurried, sovereign, and poured herself a glass.
"Ladies," she said. "There are seven of us and one of him. Nobody wins by sulking. Nobody wins at all. He has all day, and so do we, and the lounger fits two if you're determined."
Maren looked down at Jordan. Her pupils were blown wide, and her hips kept their slow maddening slide.
"Two," she repeated, and reached back to grip him and notch him against her entrance, soaked, trembling with want. "Van, get over here."
Vanessa didn't argue. She swung a leg over his chest and knelt behind Maren, her breasts pressed to her sister's back, and between the two of them they guided him inside. Maren sank down with a long broken moan, and Vanessa's hand slid around to spread her open where they joined, two fingers rubbing her clit in tight circles.
"Both of you," Katherine said, settling back on her lounger with her glass. "I want to watch my daughters come together."
Maren rode him fast from the first, all urgency, her small body slamming down on his cock while Vanessa held her from behind and whispered filth into her bob-covered ear. Jordan reached up and found Vanessa's hips, gripping, and she looked down at him with hazel eyes gone dark.
"Feel her squeezing you?" Vanessa said. "That's what twenty years of watching you did to me too."
Celeste knelt beside his shoulder, and Priya beside her, and the six friends closed in around the lounger in a tight warm circle, hands moving on their own bodies, on each other, everyone facing him. Jordan turned his head and found Priya's nipple an inch from his mouth, leaking freely now, and when he closed his lips on it her milk let down hard, flooding his tongue.
"Oh, God," Priya gasped, and her free hand flew between her legs. "He's got my milk going. I'm coming, Celeste, I'm coming right now."
Her orgasm hit loud and shameless, hips bucking against her own fingers, and her nipple pulsed in his mouth in little sprays that overflowed his lips and ran down his jaw. The blonde next to her went at the sight, then another, and suddenly the deck was loud with it, six women moaning and shaking around him, and the milk came with it. Celeste's breasts gushed when she came, twin white arcs that splashed across his chest and across Priya's shoulder, and the small blonde aimed her own at Celeste and they soaked each other laughing, slick and white and shining in the sun.
"On each other," Katherine said, her voice gone rougher than usual. "That's it. Cover each other."
Maren broke first of the three on top of him. Vanessa's fingers worked her clit and her walls clamped down on his cock in hard rhythmic squeezes, and she cried out with her head thrown back, and her own nipples, swollen from watching all afternoon, let go. Milk sprayed in thin streams over his stomach, over Vanessa's arms, and Vanessa looked down at it hitting her own skin and groaned deep in her chest.
"That's my girl," Katherine murmured.
Vanessa was last. Maren slumped off him, trembling, and Vanessa took her place, mounting him facing his feet this time, and she rode him hard, one hand braced on his thigh, the other pinching her own nipple until it sprayed with every bounce. Milk ran down her ribbed stomach in white rivulets, pooling in his navel, and her breath came in ragged hitches.
"Twenty-eight years," she gasped, "of keeping you safe, and now I come on you in front of everyone." Her hips stuttered. She came with a shout, thighs clamping his waist, milk arcing over his chest, and Jordan gripped her hips and held on.
He was close. Everyone could see it, his cock dark and throbbing where Vanessa still sat on him, and he couldn't breathe for the pressure building low in his spine.
"Up," Katherine said.
Vanessa lifted off him with a wet sound and a last shaky exhale. Katherine set her glass down and stood over the lounger, naked and silver-haired and utterly certain, and she swung her leg across his hips and took him in one hand.
She sank down slowly, and Jordan forgot the sun, the deck, the seven women watching. His mother was hot and slick and tight around him, and she rode him with the same unhurried control she brought to everything, rolling her hips in long deep strokes, her full breasts swinging heavy over his chest, already beading white at the tips.
"Mom," he said, and it came out cracked.
"Hush. You belong to us today, and I'm collecting." She leaned down and her hair curtained around his face and she kissed him, open-mouthed, slow, her hips never stopping. "Watch my girls come all over you and then take your mother. You can manage that."
He couldn't answer. Her walls gripped him on every stroke, deep and squeezing, and she picked up the pace until the lounger creaked, her breasts slapping against his milk-soaked chest on every downstroke. Celeste leaned in and milked her aimlessly toward his face, and Katherine opened her own mouth over his and let a stream fall between their lips, and he swallowed it while she fucked him.
"That's it," she breathed against his mouth. "That's it."
Vanessa and Maren had wrapped around his left side, four hands on his chest and stomach and thighs, and the friends around the lounger were touching themselves and each other again, milk spraying in small white pulses whenever someone tipped over. Priya came on Celeste's fingers and soaked Celeste's wrist. The blonde caught another woman's spray across her own breasts and shuddered apart from the sight alone.
Katherine's composure finally cracked. Her rhythm broke into short hard thrusts, her head tipped back, silver hair streaming, and her nipples let down over Jordan's chest in thin white jets that matched the stutter of her hips.
"Jordan," she gasped. "Come with me. Now. Inside your mother."
He came apart. His orgasm ripped up through him in long blind pulses and he emptied into her, hips bucking off the vinyl, and Katherine cried out above him and clamped down around him, milking him, her whole body shaking, milk running down over both of them and pooling in the hollow of his throat. The deck was a wall of sound around them, women coming and coming and milk arcing through sunlight, and nobody moved to stop any of it.
Katherine stayed seated on him through the last waves, her forehead resting against his, both of them sweating and slicked white.
"Well," she said finally, breathless for the first time all day. "Dinner's at seven. Someone start the grill."