AUNTS IN HIS PANTS (MOM TOO!) free porn video

by Oediplex 8==3~

His two aunts discovered his big tool, and he drilled mom too!

[My thanks to Robbie for the first edit pass and Bill Morgan for the excellent second edit, true OediPals both. God and my regular readers know I can always use it!]


The Sisters Savoy they were known as, when they had their nightclub act. They sang and danced and told funny stories about growing up triplets. They were each as beautiful as the other, even though they were never that famous. I broke up the act you see, when mom became pregnant with me. That bulging belly broke the symmetry of the three and they never got back into show biz after that. Susan, my mother, married my dad, a local hardware store owner. Shortly after, Aunt Sylvia wed a rich man, who died when his private plane went down, a few years back. Aunt Sally hitched her wagon to a long distance truck driver, who was seldom in town.

Dad worked day and night to make the family business profitable. So often, I was the only fella available when any of the three women needed a man, even when I was just a youngster in his teens. By the time I was out of high school, a tall muscular youth of nineteen, I was helping pop at the shop. The family in-joke was that the kid (me) had a ‘big tool’. I mean, I knew I was fair size, from the locker room at school. But I didn’t realize that this had been the source of chuckles ever since I was born, until I overheard the three sisters talking one day in late spring.

Sally: My, Susan, your boy is getting so big; he’s taller than his dad.

Sylvia: Well, he’s got more muscles than even your spouse, Sally.

Mom: He used to work out at school, but with all the heavy lifting down at the store, he needs those strong arms.

Sylvia: I bet another of his muscles is nice size too!

Sally: You mean his calves? I’ve seen him in shorts. Great buns! (She giggled.)

Sylvia: NO, I mean . . . you know what I mean, you used to change his diapers as well, Sally.

Mom: Girls; that is my son you are talking about!

Sylvia: So have you gotten a peek when he comes out of the shower?

Mom: Maybe...

Sally: Tell, how long is he now?

Mom: Sal! I’m not going to...

Sylvia: Oh! Come on Sue, we all did his diapering and noted how well endowed he was compared to other infants, so I’m sure that holds true still. How long?

Sally: Wouldn’t you have to see it hard, to tell the important measurement? (She giggled again.)

Sylvia: Yes! Have you seen him hard, how big was it?

Mom: I never...

Sylvia: You always were peaking at dad's. I bet you did.

Sally: You sure got a gander at our hubbies' at the lake, when we all went skinny dipping that time. You like to look at dicks, don’t you Susan! Don’t deny it!

Mom: He’s my boy…

Sylvia: A man now and you’re evading the question, which means that you know the answer. Tell!

Mom: It has to be over seven, maybe eight inches. (They all broke-up into shrieks of laughter.)

For the record it’s eight and a quarter, when I am my hardest, but I was born with it so I don’t brag, just a fact, like my brown hair and hazel eyes. My other muscles took work to develop and I am proud of them. They continued the conversation on the topic of my equipment.

Sylvia: Well, I guess that he has the biggest tool in the whole store then!

Sally: When did you get to view the boner of your ‘big boy’?

Mom: I accidentally started to go in his room when I thought he was out. He normally has music or the TV on. The computer was on, but muted and he was looking at porn. He didn’t realize I was there, but I could see a side view and God; was he beautiful and such a hunk. He takes after daddy.

Sylvia: Daddy took after you, did he ever corner you?

Sally: He had me in the tool shed once. I had to try that stick of beef once, just to see. You know how curious I am about sex.

Mom: You and Daddy? In the tool shed?

Sylvia: Oh! Don’t be so shocked, I tried him down in the basement, when mom was gone on that trip out West. Dad always wanted to have us three girls. So he got two out of three, twice with me and once with Sally. That’s three times for the triplets, he averaged it out.

Mom: Four.

Sally: I knew it! I knew the horniest of us couldn’t resist letting daddy into her pants once!

Mom: Three times, truth be told. (Now she giggled.)

Sylvia: So that makes, let’s see, three into seven...

Sally: Well if you want to do the math, I’ll make it easier and throw in the two times we did it in Oldsmobile’s back seat. Didn’t you ever wonder why the ice cream was melted when dad and I went to fetch it?

Sylvia: And none of ever knew about the others until now. We were supposed to share everything, no secrets among the triplets. Remember?

Mom: We did share, daddy that is, only one at a time. I was scared mama would find out, so I didn’t dare let on.

Sally: Me too.

Sylvia: She knew, and was glad that the horny old bastard was letting her off the hook sometimes. She got tired by the time we had turned 18 and started to mess around with our father.

Mom: When did she tell you that?

Sylvia: At his funeral. We were sitting together alone when you both were looking at him in the coffin.

Sally: That all ended when we were twenty-one and they let us go on the road with the act.

Mom: Then mama had to put up with the old goat once more. I hope she liked big cock. I sure did! (She giggled.)

Sally: Me too.

Sylvia: Me three.

Mom: Well you girls keep our hands off my son then!

Sylvia: Who us?

Sally: Going to keep him to yourself? I thought we three Savoy sisters shared and shared alike. Isn’t that our rule?

Mom: So are you saying that your husband is available?

Sylvia: Never around enough for Sal, much less anyone else. How about the hardware king?

Mom: The hammer in his pants is a ball-peen, round at one end and flat at the other, not much good for getting nailed I’m afraid.

They all went into hysterics then and the party broke up. But it was a very illuminating conversation. It turned out that their chat had unexpected consequences subsequently, as I will relate how I got to use my ‘tool’, just like grandpa managed to do.

Aunt Sally like to garden. She ordered some seed and fertilizer and a hoe that I delivered. Working with Aunt Sally in her flower bed turned out to be a dirty job indeed!

Aunt Sylvia liked to go to charity events. She requested that I go with her to a society fund raising soiree. Accompanying Aunt Sylvia and dancing with her turned out to be a ball doing escort service!

Mom was outraged when she found out. But the other two convinced her that just like with grandpa, she could have her share too!

Comparing mom to her sisters was a study in contrasts, despite the fact they were triplets.

I don’t blame Grandpa for desiring his daughters, for years I have had a yearning for my mother. By proxy, that yen extended to my aunts since they were all but clones of mom. However, while when younger - especially for their act - they deliberately tried to be as identical as possible, now days though they were less concerned about triplication, as they termed it. Sally wore her hair in a short page-boy or variant, Sylvia went to the hairdresser’s once a week and always had had coif of one sort of another. Mom wore her chestnut brown hair long and straight, like when she had been my age, or sometimes in a ponytail.

I discovered other variations of their hair styles in more private places, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I was a little stunned by the revelations of what my inadvertent easedropping had divulged. Not so much shocked as bemused and enlightened to the workings of the inner circle of the threesome. Who knew that they were such naughty nymphs in their younger years? Clearly they were still rather saucy in their mature stage as well. I had had no inkling as to their familiarity with my ‘tool’, much less mom having had a peek when I was pumping my prick. I wondered if any or all three had any ideas about trying out my love muscle.

I wasn’t a virgin. The locker-room scuttlebutt had gone from the guys’ envy to the girls’ ears, the way high school gossip spreads across a campus. I had no trouble getting dates. Particularly the gals, who were looser with their charms, and morals, were eager to go out with me. I tended to have steady girlfriends though, where our relationship went for long months. While at the moment, I was between ladies; my last sweetheart was with me for over a year, until she left for college. Now, between working at the store and most of my buddies either off to school or having jobs, my social life was pretty much in hiatus. I was getting horny, since I was not getting any lately.

My thoughts returned to that raunchy chat. Jeez! What was that about the three couples skinny-dipping at the family cabin at the lake? Had they done more than that? I couldn’t conceive that they had, though at the moment new scandalous information would not be surprising in light of the incestuous trysts the trio had with their dad. Grandpa Savoy had long ago bought a fair size stretch of lake-shore some hundred miles north of the town we live in. He had a lodge built for the family to enjoy summer stays at and for hunting during the season, a retreat we still had for our extended family use. That the privacy of its isolation allowed for some sort of hanky-panky was not unknown, even I had taken some girlfriends up there. But the six; aunts, uncles and parents, naked and splashing - and did any swapping go on? It was not like I could ask.

So for a few days I had the chance to mull over this new and salacious information, and contemplate the auspicious insights to my closest female relatives. Then Aunt Sally dropped by the store and put in an order for her spring planting needs. Her garden was her pride and she loved working to raise flowers and a few vegetables and herbs for her home. Since her husband, the trucker, was away often, this kept her occupied during the warmer months. In winter she sewed, knitted, crocheted, did hook rugs, and any other hobby with fabrics or yarn you could think of. She wasn’t lonely, since there were garden clubs and sewing circles. But she sometimes could use a man around the house. Dad learned early on to avoid that trap; he was busy enough with the store. But he had no problem is sparing me to help.

Thus I found myself pulling into her driveway with a load in the back of the pickup; sacks of fertilizer, packets of seed, and boxes of seedlings and a new hoe. Dad was wise to her schemes. So when she said she needed to do the rototilling of her garden, I was the handiest man to be enlisted, to be the Mr. Muscles of the moment. I didn’t mind though, Sally was perky and funny and always provided plenty of beer and homemade snacks to feed a hungry helper. Now though, I saw her with a fresh perspective. Those loose blouses that were never buttoned up all that high, so that you could look at the ‘buttons’ inside, from the side, as she never wore a bra for gardening. The view of her firm and fair breasts was titillating, and while I would never get fresh with her, those yams were yummy to glimpse.

As well, while we worked in the soil, she would bend down, even get on her hands and knees to weed or plant. The baggy shorts she wore were providing a gander at her thighs and hips, the pale skin of her rear was quite on display from the angle I had. Her ass was quite attractive, and now that I had been cued-in to her curiosity about things sexual, it was arousing to think about her and grandpa ‘in the tool shed’. In fact, I developed a nice boner from such contemplation. Thank God I had the rototiller to hide my erection, or so I thought. But once or twice I thought Sal was peering sideways at me with a little smirk of a smile. I wasn’t sure, but if we had been contemporaries, I would have suspected she was flaunting her charms and flirting.

The plot she was working was finished for the day, after we had spread a couple bags of ‘all-natural fertilizer’, i.e. sanitized manure, over it. I had not expected to be drafted into service, and while I was in work clothes, I had not brought a change of shirt and jeans. Sally insisted that she run my duds in the laundry machines in her basement, while I relaxed afterwards with a beer, even take a shower. She was quite firm that I get cleaned up there at her place, since she did not want me going home smelling like ‘shit’, her word. I was glad for the break from the store and chores at home, even though I probably worked harder at Sally’s. But she made it seem like fun.

She brought me a beer to drink before I went in, and that got chugged. Then she followed me upstairs to the bathroom with two more and told me to strip, hand her out all my clothes, underwear also. “Enjoy your suds while you suds-up!” she spoke to me through the door, as I hid behind it giving her my smelly apparel. I got the impression she wouldn’t have minded peeking in. I downed half a brew and jumped in the shower and lathered up. I was just doing my hair with shampoo, eyes shut, when I heard the door open. It never occurred to me to lock it. I thought that perhaps she was bringing me a fresh towel. Then I sensed another body in the spray with me. My aunt giggled that girlish giggle she had given, when speaking about my buns.

Speaking of which, she was now grasping as she clutched me in an intimate naked hug. I rinsed to clear my vision and beheld the tan and fit form of my mother’s sister. I put my arms down around her waist, but then thought ‘what the hell’, and lowered them to her haunches as well. She tilted her face to mine and the look in her eyes said plain as day, “Kiss me”. So I did, and her tongue wiggled in between my lips and Frenched me. Her nipples scraped their hard points against my chest. She was not shy, as she reached for my growing stalk. The gardener knew where she wanted that planted, in her bush and wanted my seed. “Hoe, hoe hoe!” said the rakish fellow, as he squeezed her melons.

Sally handed me the soap and I understood that she wanted me to be dirty and wash her too. All over. What a delightful handful that squirming female proved to be, as I slipped my palms over her skin. I touch everywhere, including the mons and the clit and even her anus. She squealed as I discovered ticklish spots and gasped as I groped her gash. She got in the act and lathered my length of manhood even as I was fingering her hole. Then I inserted a second digit and began to move them back and forth within her vagina, front to back, with them as deep as I could stick them up and in. This resulted in my aunt rolling her eyes back and open mouthed cumming at least twice.

She recovered while I held her up to keep her from falling, as her knees had gone weak. She dragged me out of the stall, so fast I hardly had time to shut the water off. Sal, took the half beer, giving me the full one, as we stood dripping and nude on the carpeted floor. I was still hard as oak. She drank the half in quick gulps as I popped the other and quenched my thirst, but we were both hungry for what was next. In all this, not a word had been said, now Sal spoke, “Ready?” I nodded. She got down on her hands and knees, like she was weeding, with her ass pushed out at me. She wanted it from behind that was clear. I knelt between her legs and looked at her hips. Two little roses, one tattooed on each bun were there.

My gorgeous and steamy aunt looked back over her shoulder; she knew what I had espied. “Rosy cheeks!” she explained. I chuckled at the in-joke. Mom always had said that Sally had a good complexion and ‘rosy cheeks’ from working in her flower garden. But I now knew that mother was referring to more than her sis’s face, when she quipped the phrase. Well, it was time to plow. I took my instrument and slowly pushed into the furrow that was presented to me. Then I slipped my cock back and forth as I gave Sal what she needed. Her husband was hardly home, and she got too little physical loving from the trucker, that was obvious.

What a sight, her butt being on the skewer of my lance, like some lamb being roasted. How so right it felt to be lunging in her cavity and showing her my ardor. Mighty tight, the twat that thrust back at my prick, her pussy seemed a perfect fit as it automatically adjusted to my measurements. This was good, this was hot, this was my aunt and she was a great lay. If I was her husband I would find work closer to home and have this woman fucking me every day! I gave her the best I had, I worked that cunt with my spear for I don’t know how long, but finally she was cumming and cumming. I reached around and held her tits as I drove hard into her to allow my own release.

I felt my balls literally jumping as they swayed and thumped on her pudendum, while the stream of semen flowed like a garden hose within the humid haven of her hole. Her own emulsions frothed out too, like some sort of milky sap, then my spume back-flowed and dribbled out. We slowly settled to the rug and tried to catch our breath. “Don’t you dare tell your mom, or Sylvie, about this! And for being such a good nephew, I’m going to have you over for some nice eggplant parmigiana and to ‘water my roses’ when you’re here.” She giggled; then paused. “I think that your clothes need to go in the dryer by now. Get a few more beers and meet me in my bedroom.” Her mattress linens were floral prints, and we lay in her ‘flower bed’ and made love again.

When I got home, dinner was just being set out by mom, dad was already at the table. Mom asked where I had been. Dad answered for me and said he had sent me over to Sally’s with the stuff she had ordered. Mom raised an eyebrow and commented that it didn’t take all afternoon to make one delivery. I explained that I had been drafted into service to do the rototilling.

“Oh ‘Drafted into service ’?” Asked dad with clearly a double entendre intended. Mom shot him a look, that meant ‘don’t you dare spill the beans about my sister, mister!!’

Mom then commented, “There was quite a bit of sun today, I hope you didn’t burn, Honey.”

Dad, still with the gleam of deviltry in his eyes, said with a straight face (but his tone indicated that he was still having amusement by sniping about his sister-in-law) wisecracked, “Well, as you always say, gardening flowers made Sally’s ‘cheeks rosy’.” I remembered that dad had seen Sally (and Sylvia too for that matter) in the altogether. Had that been during the day or night? He must have known about the tattoos! That’s why he was making with the smart-mouthing!

That realization struck me and I felt my throat choke a chuckle back down. If I hadn’t just finished my swallow of soda I would have sprayed it out, like the comedians do when they make the gag to show a big surprise. As it was, an odd little sound escaped; just enough that my mother looked at me askance; but said nothing. I did catch her out of the corner of my eye making a ‘cut it’ gesture to pop with the flat of her hand drawing across her neck. I excused myself for a moment and made my escape on the pretense of having to wash my hands. I got control of myself and came back.

I spoke in a normal tone, I wanted to insure that my folks knew that I might return to offer more help to my green-thumbed aunt. “Aunt Sally said she wouldn’t mind if I was to work for her some more, now and then. She said I could water her roses.” It just slipped out of my mouth, like soap in wet hands. I didn’t think about what I had just said, until I saw that mom was doing a slow burn. Then she threw down the towel she was holding, and stormed out of the dinning room. I looked at my father and frowned. I still didn’t directly connect the phrase that Sal had used to the previous conversations, but then dad spoke again.

He had a serious look, but I could see that he was trying to not laugh. He wasn’t sure I understood what had made mom angry or not. I might be innocent, or guilty, he wasn’t sure. However he just shook his head, and said, “Son, Sally doesn’t grow roses.” Then it clicked, she had said, “I’ll let you water my roses”, which was quite a provocative promise of more sex to come, at the time. When I had quoted it, I thought it was a good cover. But instead, I may have let the cat out of the bag that I had my aunt’s pussy in the sack! Mom came back after a few minutes and acted like nothing in the last ten minutes had happened. Dinner was good, but quiet, unusually so.

Then a week later, Aunt Sylvia came by one evening. She had a favor to ask her favorite nephew, that being me. In fact, I was the only child of the three sisters. I knew that Sylvie and her husband had decided not to have kids. He was older, it was his second marriage and he had two by his first wife. They were in another state and got a sizable inheritance when he died, and would receive the bulk of the rest when Sylvia passed, since there were no other heirs. Sylvia was on friendly terms with them, but they were not her kids. Sally had a bad miscarriage and was unable to conceive after her operation. Mom and dad wanted more than just me, though it never happened for some reason.

Sylvie had an important charity ball to attend, but her usual escort, since my uncle had been gone, was going to be out of town. She thought of me because I had some dance lessons and was good at the waltz, foxtrot and could ‘boogie with the best of them’; her words. Besides, I was old enough now to have champagne and there was my tux left over from the proms, just hanging in the closet gathering dust. So I was all set if I wanted, if I would be so kind, “I’ll make it worth your while,” sultrily entreated the most elegant of the three sisters Savoy. How could I refuse? I wondered if I might get as lucky with Sylvia as with Sally; and had they talked? ‘Make it worth my while’ sounded not only promising, but perhaps a bit like a proposition!

I dressed in the tux at Aunt Sylvia’s house (small mansion) where the limousine was picking us up. I came down the curved stairs first. Then Sylvie made her entrance. She was wearing a designer dress, a black number made of a material that clung to her every curve, which were all over and in all the right places and proportions. The front and back were symmetrical, with an opening like this (), which ran from breast bone to just below the navel and from the shoulder blades to just above the split of her buns. The sides had smaller similar but narrower gaps that ran from the outer edge of her breasts to the top of her hips. It was held together and up by inch wide straps over the shoulders. The lower part of the dress had knee-high side slits to allow freedom for dancing. It was stunning.

We arrived and found our table, a mix of younger well-to-do and middle-aged wealthy, but nice folks, friendly. The music was quite varied, even if the orchestra did favor the slower rhythms. There was plenty of wine and great hors d’oeuvres. I enjoyed Sylvia’s company as she was a vivacious and witty woman who loved her life and had the charm to enchant others with her joie de vivre. We had a great time. The thing I liked the most though, was dancing with her. Dancing close and slow and putting my hands on her, smelling her perfume, her body pressed against mine. Being so near, I could tell that the dress was the only covering of her pulchritude, and there was no hint of panties, or thong either for all I could perceive. Just thinking about that made me begin to swell in my pants. I had to loosen my tie as things warmed up.

Eventually, my tumescence was full and upright. Still Sylvie pressed with her legs and abdomen against what she must have felt hard on her tummy and thighs. It was like she expected it, enjoyed it, had planned it and was getting a thrill from my condition. I certainly didn’t mind the soft cushions of femininity pressing on my chest. I took off my jacket so that there was less between us. Sylvie looked me straight in the eyes as we tangoed with verve and flair. The sparks were definitely zapping from our contact and it wasn’t static electricity! Then came a slow waltz and we were quite tight together, my manhood pressing and rubbing on the bump of her mons as we swayed.

After that Sylvia grabbed her purse from the table and took out a check, beckoning me to follow with a crooked finger. I grabbed my coat and obeyed, using the jacket to hide my still protruding erection. She went by the head table, dropped the bank-note in the big glass bowl for donations and we exited out the hall. She fished out her cell and made a call, within a minute the limo was there to pick us up. In the back of the long sedan, she rolled up the dividing window for privacy. She half turned to me and taking my hand furthest from her, placed it on her thigh. I turned toward her expecting a kiss. Instead, she said in a soft husky voice, “This is what you have done to your Aunt, you naughty boy!” She moved my hand up to her crotch.

As I had surmised, there were no panties, nor a thong, all I felt was bare bald pussy and a wet slit. She continued, “If I had to sit down, after that last dance, I’d have a very telling wet spot on my tush when I arose. We were too public to have that happen. As it is, now that I am sitting, this gown will need a trip to the cleaners!” Then she kissed me. Can she kiss! Even without the tongue her lips made a marvelous tender mushing on my mouth. When our oral digits danced it was a sensual ballet of slippery squiggles, an art of knowing the inside of the other’s face. Meanwhile, my hand was rubbing the squishy place she had shoved it, and she loved it.

Nor were her fingers idle, as she was stroking my boner through my pants. It was a short drive back to her home, so we didn’t undress until we were through the front door. Sylvie just unhooked the front clasp at the top of her dress, and shrugged off the straps. It fell to her feet and she was like Eve before the fig leaf (but after having tasted the apple)! She drew me by the hand to the living room and picked up a remote. With some practiced button pushing the lights dimmed and romantic music started to play. Then she stripped me like mom had done when I was little and tired. Only I was not tired, even after the wine and fancy food, and I certainly was not little; you know where I mean!

When I was down to my pants puddled at my feet, I shed my shoes and stepped forward, now Adam - sans leaf also. She gathered me into her arms and said, “Let’s dance a little more.” I put my arm around her waist to lead, and moved slow to the music, my bare cock against her clean pudenda. But of course, she really was the one leading me, down the garden path, just as Sally had done in her own salacious way. My pre-cum dampened her mons, my shaft was grinding the greased groove of her womanhood and we shuffled on the shag carpet not moving much from where we started from, most of the motions was at our pelvis level.

Finally I just stopped moving my feet and hunched my hips, so that my hard-on was sawing at her notch, it was planing over the nub of her clit and her head tilted back in an open-mouth gasp of passion, her tits lifting and making the perfect target for my sucking lips. She then came forward and pushed me so that I lost balance and went back on my ass. That was as she wanted; for she straddled me as I stretched out, her dripping center hovered over my prick and she reached down to guide it to her pussy. It happily was a solid awl to puncture her tissues, slicing up the cavity it widened in her body. That heated snug casing was fabulous, as Sylvie sank and rose upon the handle of my masculinity.

My hands went to clutch her bosom as the pendulous mams hovered over my torso. I gave a gentle pinch to the protruding flesh that was in the middle of the rosettes. My aunt’s pelvis rocked back and forth, to and fro. “That’s right Baby, just let mama do all the work for us. Did you ever want to do this to your mom, kiddo? Be honest, tell Aunt Sylvie the truth, don’t you have a lust for your own mother, somewhere deep in your loins?” My surprise at her words made me speechless for a moment, but my libido answered involuntarily as my dick lurched and my hips thrust, as the spice of that even more sinful incest spiked my pike.

“I knew it!” cried Sylvia in triumph, not at my expense but in delight at her insight as to what secret lust lurked within her sister’s son. “It's okay, Darling, that streak runs all through the family. You’re just the next generation of Savoy degenerates!”

“But, I always had a hankering to hammer you too, Sylvie!”

“Of course, you did dear boy, and I bet that goes for Sally as well. We three are like the triple scoops of ice cream on a banana split; you want to have the whole she-bang. And your banana is doing so nicely in my split! But stay put; I like to ride in reverse too!” With that she made a practiced maneuver and actually turned around on me with my penis still up her vagina, to face the other way. Away she went up and down some more. I was looking at her fine posterior, an ass to be proud of on any woman, when I made an observation that hit me like a thunderbolt. There on her hindquarters, in the exact same spots, were two tattooed flowers; same as Aunt Sally’s but a different bloom, and blue not red.

“Sylvie, you’ve got flowers on your tush too!” It’s funny how fast the mind can work sometimes. I had blurted out the line about ‘watering Sally’s roses’, and possibly spilled the beans about our making love. Clear as if she were in the room, I heard Sal say, ‘Don’t you dare tell your mom, or Sylvie, about this!’ I immediately tried to cover my rear about the intimate discovery I had made with both of them and added, “Uh… two blue flowers on your buns.” I hoped that Sylvie had not caught the barest hesitation that was the millisecond I took, as all that flashed through my brain. “When did you get those?” The question was a diversionary tactic. It failed, but in an unexpected way brought more revelation!

All the while the exquisite sensation of our fucking was continuing full out. She laughed as her derri? bobbed upon my dick and felt like warm butter that gripped me like a rubber glove. Her Kegels were highly trained I realized as she bounce on my boner, the interior muscles of her sex surrounding my manhood. Before answering she shuddered, and a fine coating of perspiration broke out over her whole back. That was her first cum. She dismounted and pulled me over to the couch where she slouched so her hips hung on the edge of the cushions and I knelt between her thighs, then plugged in for more action. “New Orleans.”

I had lost track of the conversation, with the switch of positions, but her next words brought understanding to my lust fogged head.

“Those flowers on my rump are bluebells. I used to have a favorite pair of slacks which I wore constantly. My sisters even teased me about them. So when I got my tattoo, I made a pun about my pants, they were a cobalt blue color, bell-bottoms.” I looked slightly befuddled as I fucked her. “Blue – bell – bottom, bluebells on my bottom, get it... oh! Yeah! Just like that, more – harder yess! YESS! AHH!” She came again.

“Damn! I can’t believe how turned on it makes me that you got the hots for your mom. You naughty boy, I’ve caught you out!” I was confused about what she meant, though now I understood about the in-joke of Sylvia’s tattoos. “You’ve been peeking at your mom’s ass, haven’t you? Or did she show you? No, Susan wouldn’t be so bold. So you had to see her butt sometime when she didn’t know. Was she sleeping naked on top of the covers and you peeped? Yes! You wanted to see mommy naked because you lusted after her and want to fuck her so bad! That is soo exciting, I’m cumming again you dirty nasty little boy!!” And she did, twice.

I wasn’t sure why my lechery for my mother was a turn on for my aunt, but it seemed to get her off quite nicely. I was happy to be doing the honors. I was getting close myself now to blasting in her pussy. I was vaguely aware in my jumble thoughts while working on my own orgasm, that it must mean that mom had a set of tattoos, like her sisters did, on her own ass. What Sylvia guessed about my feelings was true, even though I had not had the pleasure of spying on my mother’s naked body in such luscious circumstances. My current paramour was indeed a fair substitute physically for my maternal parent. I began to fantasize with the inspiration that my aunt’s words incited.

Sylvia could tell that I was beginning the rush to the rumble, the pace quickened and I gripped her legs harder to gain leverage to sock my raging rod into her genitals. Slap-slap-slap went our flesh clapping together as I beat her with my club of love, our crotches smacking. Her tits were jiggling with the banging as I pounded away at her pussy. “Think about fucking mommy, fuck your mama!” she urged me. That pulled the trigger and I was engulfed in the reverie of screwing mother.

I cried out my thoughts and deepest desires and most secret of lusts. “Yes, mom Susan fuck me! I love you mom, I need you! I have to... I have to...”

“Yes, Baby! Cum in mama, squirt it all into mommy’s tummy. Do it, Darling! FUCK ME! FUCK ME NOWW!”

We were cumming together, mom/Sylvie and me, a wild and chaotic pistoning in her cunt by my out of control cock. Son was slamming into aunt/mother with all the energy that had been withheld for so long, wanting to give my parent the love she had given to me. But in this wonderful physical way that brought her and I together and provided such a grand pleasure to our united bodies. I made “uh-uh” grunts and “ah’whoo” wails as I release the load that had waited to fire from my balls into the receptacle of her loins. I felt my prick pulse in big throbs of gushes, in the burning wetness that held me and drank the flow that streamed through the tube of meat planted in her.

At last we rolled off the sofa and onto the floor hugging one another, still connected for moments, until withered and well satiated, my tool lost its insane fury and retreated to be its softer self. I think we fell asleep like that, for the next thing I knew, the faintest light was glowing through the curtains. With the movement of my waking, Sylvia stirred as well, and we struggled to our feet. Both of us were a bit rubbery in the knees as we staggered, holding on to one another, and found our way to her bed. We kissed and she managed to pull the sheet over us before we drifted off to dreamland again. I sort of remember my last thought before unconsciousness, what was the type of flower my mother had on her tush?

When we finally woke it was about ten in the morning. It being Sunday, the shop was closed and I didn’t have work. My parents had expected that we might get out of the dance late and that I’d spend the night at my aunt’s. What they were not going to find out was that we came home from the ball relatively early and screwed long and hard. I balled my relative, I was both long and hard, and I spent the rest of the night sleeping in her bed. That was not going to slip out, the way I had almost slipped up about Sally. I still was unsure if the aunts had talked, or if each was independently seducing me. Not such a difficult task either time. Sylvia ordered a brunch delivered. I went back to my house in the afternoon.

Mom wanted to hear all about my evening at the gala. So I told her a sanitized version of the event. Then I made an error in judgment. “Aunt Sylvie showed me her blue bell-bottoms.” I could see that raised mom’s suspicions, but it was true. I continued. “You know; the pants you and Aunt Sally used to kid her about? She still had them hanging in the closet and brought them out to show me. Told me how she used to wear them constantly, as they were her favorite clothing, back in the day. She even tried them on, they were a little too tight. And they split!” This made mom burst out in a fit of laughter.

Mom wouldn’t have thought it very funny if she had known that her sister had not been wearing underpants at the time. It left her whole crotch open and exposed. I took advantage of the situation and took my aunt right there on the bed. She was bent over and she lay prone on her stomach getting fucked by her nephew, still in Adam’s un-attire. I put it through the split fabric into her crack and fucked her in her blue bell-bottoms, while her bluebell bottom was held inclined to give full access to my fat tool. It was the best cure for a hangover I ever had!

I then asked mom if I could get a tattoo. That got her eyes narrowed and I knew she was wondering where that idea had come from and if any hanky-panky HAD gone on between me and her sister. But she decided that she was not going to ask and open that can of worms just yet. So she answered, “Not until your old enough.”

“I’m nineteen, almost twenty, I’m old enough.”

“No, you have to be older.”

“Twenty-one?”

“Twenty-five.”

“That can’t be the law?”

“It's my rule, your mother’s rule; that’s a higher authority than the law!”

“But you got a tattoo before you were twenty-five!” Whoops! Me and my big mouth again.

“WHO told you about my tattoo?” She was angry, maybe that I knew about the fact that she had a tattoo, but more likely thinking that I knew the intimate details about her decorated derri?.

I bluffed, “Uh… dad mentioned that you had one in an unmentionable place which he didn’t mention where.”

“Your father knows about where it is, of course, but not when I got it. Did Sally tell you about… mm… what age I got it? Or was it the other blabber-mouth aunt?”

“It was a while back and I don’t remember which one it was, but they just said that the three of you got them on . . uh . . in New Orleans while you were doing the act. Since I was born when you were twenty-four, that means you had to be about twenty-two or three. ‘Elementary, my dear Watson!’ I quipped the quote.”

“Oh, uh . . . yeah that’s right. And no, you’re not getting a tattoo until you're twenty-five and have grown out of that silly notion! End of discussion.” Well it was at that point, I was just glad to have escaped from the ‘Susan inquisition’ on aunts and private matters. Me and my damn big mouth!

It wasn’t until next Friday that I really upset the apple cart. I was home waiting for dinner, I had set the table and dad would be down soon from changing his clothes. I had a pad of note paper that we kept by the phone and a pen. I was drawing. Mom came in, saw what I was doing, and looked over my shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Oh, that’s just a design I was working on, for my tattoo.”

“What is it?” she puzzled at the big X with flames rising from it.

“Well I wanted something masculine. I can’t very well get butt-rcups.” Mother flushed slightly, and I just had to push my luck. “I’m going to get one on each side.”

“I don’t get it, and you’re not getting them until you’re twenty-five Mr.!”

“It’s easy. It’s a kind of a pun.” I paused to see if she might catch on, but I was too subtle. Me and my big mouth. I explained, “Hot crossed buns!”

Mom stood straight up like she had been jerked by a string on the top of her head. She looked at me with the most peculiar expression and suddenly I realized that I had really torn it this time. She didn’t know the details but she was certain that either one or both her sister’s had sex with me. She walked back into the kitchen. I just sat there mentally kicking myself. Dad appeared a few minutes later.

“Where’s your mother?”

“In the kitchen, she’s upset.” Dad went after her to find out what the matter was. I figured he’d be steamed too, when he found out. But he reported she wasn’t there. We looked all over the house for her but didn’t find her. Dad determined that her set of car keys was missing and got on the horn to Sally, no she wasn’t there. Same with Sylvia. Sylvia called back a few minutes later and asked to speak to me. When I confessed what conversation had taken place shortly before mom disappeared, she let out a big sigh. Then she told me to get ready, she was picking me up in half an hour.

The horn on her sporty Beamer honked thirty-five minutes later and I came out to ride with her. I told dad only that Sylvie and I were going to look for mom. Sally was in the back seat as well. I rode shot gun. Sylvie hit the interstate and headed north.

Leaning forward, Sal asked Silvie, “Have you got the medicine?”

Her sister nodded and I wonder what that was about, but instead asked, “Do you know where mom is?” Medicine sounded ominous.

“She’ll be at the cabin. She always goes there when she is totally pissed off, or very upset, and I’m sure she’s both.”

“Can’t blame her,” spoke Sally.

“OH! For God’s sake, Sal, she knew this might happen. When she started talking eight inches, like dad, she knew. She even warned us; but what did she think was going to happen in THIS family? Considering the past transgressions? Sorry kid, but while part of the conversations might be over your head, you're going to have to trust your aunts, or should I refer to us as your lovers?”

I decided that too much shit had hit the fan already and being open and honest with these two . . lovers would be better in the long run, if things were to get smoothed over with mom. Besides, if they knew that I knew, then it would be easier to pour oil on the waters, if they weren’t so afraid that I’d get splashed with things that stained our familial history. So I told them I had overheard the conversation a couple of weeks back and knew enough of what the trio of troubled troubadours had tried to hide, and the trysts they had with grandpa. That was a relief, to everyone, from then on for the rest of the trip, I was regaled with reminiscences of their freewheeling past on the road and how they took their liberation to a very heady high.

That was the medicine. Sylvia had an ounce of primo with her with, some joints already rolled. Before we arrived we did a couple of doobies to help keep calm in the face of storm Susan. Sure enough mom’s car was parked by the lodge. We went in. When she saw the three of us, she got red, and then looked each of us in the eye so that we saw how hurt and angry she was. Then she just collapsed onto the overstuffed sofa and broke down into tears. We pulled chairs in front of her and Sylvie brought out the medicine. At first mom shook her head, but Sally took the lit joint, took a puff, passed it to me. I took a toke and passed it on to Sylvia, who took a hit and held it out to mom again. This time she accepted the J and sucked a lot of smoke then she had another hit. After her third hit, Sylvie muttered the standard Bogart line and took the doobie and passed it around again.

I could see mom starting to loosen up some. Sally said, “Sue, your son knows about daddy.”

Before mom could freak out again Sylvie jumped in and spoke, “He overheard that conversation we had, when we all found out that we had been holding back from each other all these years. Nobody told him, he didn’t intend to hear our secrets, but there it is, out now between the Sisters Savoy and our only child among the three of us. He doesn’t think any the less of you, or us.”

“Sue,” Sal reached out and took her hand and at the same time stuck the joint in mom’s mouth to keep her quiet. “You know that what we did; wasn’t the first time incest has happened in our family, not with me, or Sylvia, or you. And that won’t be the last time it happens with me, or our sister, or your son... or you.”

Sylvia said softly, “I think you’re more upset that we had the lad, and you think you can’t; because you’re his mother. But parent and child didn’t stop you and pop, did it? You’re the most beloved and belusted of your boy. He wants you. You want him. Don’t you Sue?”

Mom nodded a little and took another big hit. My cock was getting hard. This was a development I had not foreseen on the way to the lake!

“Look, he’s getting hard just thinking about the possibility of you and him!” Sally pointed out.

“He wants to see your tattoo. How about we show him his mother’s art work?” Sylvia started to unbutton mom’s blouse. Sal reached down and took off her shoes. My aunts were seducing my mother for me! Sylvia took off mother’s shirt and Sally unzipped mom’s skirt. Mom lay back as the clothes were pealed from her one by one. At last, her bra was unhooked by Sal and I saw the wonderful pair of mom’s mams I had always dreamed of. Sylvia turned her over as mom lay lengthwise on the couch so she was on her tummy. Then she pulled down the panties and there, just like the other sister’s were two purple flowers, tulips. I bent over and kissed them.

Then I began kissing my way up mom’s spine. If the moment hadn’t been so tender and moving, it would have been funny to see my aunts getting me stripped as I kissed and kissed my mother’s back. She was still face down and couldn’t see the face of the son being denuded by the other two. She lay calmly and waited until I had come to her shoulders. As she turned back around, my shirt was helped off and we were naked in each other’s presence, certainly for the first time since I had been a toddler. Now I was a man and she a woman, I was hard and her pussy glistened. I moved over her onto the sofa and she spread her legs. Everything seemed to be slightly in slow motion, and I was taking my time not rushing this special moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my aunts stripping, but I really only had focus on mom and her beautiful body. She has a full bush, the furry triangle spread as I neared. Sally had a small ‘landing-strip’ patch, and Sylvia was clean and bald. I found mom’s au natural state the sexiest of the three. But I was not saying a word, only acting, being the lover she had waited for since her last time with Grandpa, I imagined. Her arms rose to embrace me, I let myself down on her, my big tool resting on her thatch even as my weight was on my elbows. I kissed her two lips. Then Frenched her, as my dick began to rub, to find the soft wet slot midst her labia. She raised her legs to help me center, then I was skidding the slick path that led to her hole with the pole that would fulfill her and fill her full.

Then down – down I went, sliding into the heated depths; up – up the hot tube of tissue that enveloped me. Tight, so that I could feel every millimeter of progress I made of penetration, because my mother had practice in making my dad’s dick seem bigger, so my mighty missile benefited from squeezing muscles that mom applied out of habit. My prick was super-sensitive from the buzz I had on; from the knowledge that this was the ultimate vagina that I had lusted after. In short, my full length was provided the greatest fuck in all my eight inches and score of years, or in all my twenty years and 210 millimeters, I had ever had the pleasure to score. I bet it was the best balling that old couch had ever hosted as well!

They say an artist is only as good as his tools. Well, my tool was doing damn good! I sawed in mom’s box with my cock, I hammered her cunt with my hard-on, I screwed her twat with my driver, I drilled her hole with every bit of energy I had. We went at it like we were in a porno film, one that had slow-motion at times, and then back to regular speed. The variation in pace was keeping things from climaxing too early, yet we couldn’t help ourselves in our hunger for one another’s bodies. So it was a balance of desire and prolonging the exquisite physical excitement unleashed and running rampant. Meanwhile adding to the sheer dirty, nasty and sinful milieu, if not melee, were Sylvia and Sally naked, seated right close to us side by side, and diddling each other’s pussy while they watched!

“He’s fucking her! He’s fucking his mom!” Sylvia was letting out her turn-on about my lust for mom verbally, her excited tone pitched higher than usual. “Look Sal, they’re doing it, mother and son having sex finally, like they always wanted to. Oh God, that is so hot!!”

Sally also was commenting from the inner demons that possessed her, “Just like daddy, he’s fucking just like daddy; with that big dick, that beautiful handsome huge cock! It’s all the way in her, Sylvie, it just can’t stop plunging so deep and hard and all the way, all the way in!”

But while I was only peripherally aware of my aunts and what they were burbling, mom was in my ear with her own rant of crazy lust. “Yes, give it to me, your wonderful hunk, your special meat, that mighty muscle I have craved for so long. Ever since you started to have pubic hair I had a hankering for the dick dangling between your legs. And when I saw you beating-off and all erect I got so hot that I soaked my panties, just thinking about if this ever happened. I somehow knew it would. Just like with daddy, I couldn’t resist the temptation. I realized that I would fuck you if I ever got half a chance. And now, you’re doing it, we’re doing it and I love it, I love you; I love my sisters for bringing you here and getting us together. Did you know that, that mommy wanted to fuck you? Fuck her BIG boy?”

I was spurred by her words; I went in to overdrive and slammed into her vagina so that I was knocking against the cervix every stroke. I needed to release my cum at that very center so that my semen might gush into her womb and impregnate her. Sylvia had informed me that she had her tubes tied, right after being married, as they didn’t want kids. Sally had her operation and was unable to get knocked up any more. But as far as I knew, mom was still fertile. I had wondered about pop, if he had a low sperm count or what was the story about me being an only child? But if mom still had viable eggs I was out to fertilize any that were in place for my swimming wrigglers to reach. It was was animal, it was emotional, it was the fundamental drive to reproduce, there was no thinking – just the mating instinct.

I began to cry out the words that Sylvie had first released from me, “Yes, mom, Oh YES! Susan fuck me! I love you mom, I need you! I love you mom, so much, so much! I have to... I have to.... fuck you, I have to fuck you! I have to... I... I have to cum... CUM IN YOU NOOWWW!!!”

Mom answered my orgasmic outburst, “YES!! Baby, do it to mommy, do it to me, give me your cum, shoot in me, shoot in mommy all your sweet sperm! OH! YES! I FEEL IT! I’M CUMMING TOO! MOMMY’S CUMMING WITH HER BOY!!”

Both the two on the chairs were wriggling and writhing around as they were triggered by the lewd scene they were witness to. Then we all were gasping for air and sweat poured off four people like we had just come in from a rainstorm. “LAKE!” yelled Sylvia.

“LAKE!” Echoed Sally.

“LAKE... Laakkee!” my mother took up the chant and drew it out as a long squeaky call as she struggled to get up. I gave way and saw my aunts headed out the door toward the water, in the twilight. Mom was close behind, but she was dragging me along by my hand, the arm nearly pulled from the socket the first jerk was so unexpected.

But I understood in a flash that the steamy overheating from that wild sexual saturnalia could be best refreshed by the, “LAKE!” I shouted as I ran holding my mom’s hand and first Sylvie, then Sal, then mom and I together jumped off the side of the dock; mom just missing Sally. The water felt perfect. For about three minutes as we treaded and floated in the six to seven foot depth. Then Sally started to shiver and began to walk out toward the shore. The rest of us followed and when we were standing there on the grass, dripping again, but cooled now and beginning to dry in the warm air. We looked at on another and I realized that this was a very unusual event the four of us there together naked and knowing that I had had sex with each of them.

In fact, it then occurred to me that two had been having fun while mom and I had screwed. It did not seem like that was the first time they had done that sort of thing, they were too practiced. That was an area for inquiry, knowing my aunts and mom also being the fallen angels of the salacious Savoy household. There were other questions that the skinny dipping reminded me of too. But for the moment we were headed back inside, once there the towels and blankets were broken out. But none of us got dressed. Nudity seemed to be a standard mode of fashion at the lodge. Certainly sex had been a common activity, that had to be a given, knowing what I been privy too about the trio of wayward women with me.

Back at the cabin, several more joints got rolled, while drinks were procured as well, the sisters Savoy knew how to party. We settled down on the furniture, Mom and Sylvia on the sofa and myself next to mom, aunt Sal sat in one of the close by chairs. With another joint making the round and beer for me and mom, screwdrivers mixed for the aunts, I thought the time had arrived I could ask some questions. I began with what I had seen my aunts doing, my curiosity bursting. “So, I guess triplets... uh... help each other to... uh” the words just wouldn’t come out and not seem prudish, which I wasn’t obviously.

“You mean help each other get off?” Sylvie; always to the heart of the matter and never shy.

“Yeah,” I grunted.

“Oh, when you’re triplets, or I suppose it goes for twins too sometimes, playing with your identical sibling is almost like masturbating.”

“Only when one of you is doing it to the other, it’s even better,” mom explained. Then she reached over and lightly pinched Sylvie’s nipple and her sis reciprocated; like some medieval painting I once saw. “You should see the sisters Savoy in our daisy-chain!”

“It blew my husband’s mind!” said Sylvia.

“Mine’s too” declared Sally.

“Mine three,” chorused mom.

“Was that when you all went skinny dipping, or another time?” I had to ask about that.

“That’s right; we mentioned the orgy, when you overheard us talking about... lots of things.” Sylvie chuckled.

Mom was not quite as amused, but Sal smirked and said, as she held in a toke, “About your long dong!”

“It wasn’t an orgy,” mom explained and took a hit, then drank a swallow of brew before she blew it out.

“It was Sylvia’s idea; she got your mom and me to agree to her plan.”

“See, my husband, in fact all the boys, after a while,” Sylvia began, “were a little curious. We all got married in our mid-twenties and after a few years of family get togethers, seeing their wives and their clones at the same time, the guys were wondering if the three of us were identical in certain ways, sexually to be blunt.”

“It’s not as if they were wondering if we like the same kind of pizza, or preferred romances or mysteries. But did we screw the same? Did we dig cunnilingus or fellatio, did we cum the same way, make the same sounds?” Sally elaborated.

“It wasn’t blatant questions, but subtle hints of interest. One day we, your aunts and I were comparing notes on our hubbies, and the topic came up.”

“Whereas, I suggested that we have a little shindig up at the cabin and settle their questions.”

“So you swapped partners, had an orgy. Did that happen often?”

“NO!” Mom took a deep breath and calmed herself down. “No, we did not swap, but we did skinny dip, so all the guys got to see that there wasn’t much of a difference between the three of us, physically.” Sylvie lit another doobie and gave it to mom after she took a big inhalation, mom toked and gave it to me; I had a hit and passed it to Sal.

“The idea,” Sylvie explained, “was to answer their questions and douse any lust by showing them that they had made the best choice of the three for themselves. That each had gotten the right woman for him.”

Sally passed the J to Sylvie and continued illuminating the strategy. “They saw the tattoos of course, and our bodies naked, but when we all screwed it was with each of our spouses.”

“To put them in the hot and horny mood though, we did our triangular daisy chain. That really got them raring to go!” laughed mom, now looser and she chugged the rest of her beer.”

“So,” Sylvie took up the narrative, “Each of the couples were fucking in the room here, I was on the couch with mine, Sally rode her hubby on the rug and your mom sat on your dad’s dick while he was seated on one of the chairs.”

“How did they reach the conclusion they got the best of the three of you for their wife?” I pondered, since that was not obvious to me.

Mom got up. “Come here for a minute, Honey,” she said to me going over to a framed something on the wall. I followed her. “See this? Remember that thing?” It was three hand prints of the triplets from when they were little girls. On one piece of paper, about six by eighteen inches horizontally, a row of right hands in red and blue and green. “We did these when we were in first grade, the teacher thought it would be cute to have all three together and daddy framed it. Which is which, can you tell?” I looked. I had seen it before of course, but it was background, like the fish over the fire place, which Grandpa had caught and had mounted. But the meaning was not much beyond my general knowledge until then.

I shook my head, and mom continued. “Of course not right off the bat, no one can tell the difference between us three, if we don’t want them to. Especially when we were younger.” She held out her hand, the palm facing me. “Look, now study my lines. Now which one is my hand print?”

I looked at her hand and back at the three prints in the frame on the wall. “The red one, the lines split, just like on your palm.”

“Right!” She took her seat and snatched the joint from Sylvie. I resumed my seat as well. Mom sucked smoke; then passed me the J as she exhaled. “See, that’s what our husbands all discovered that day we had our little . . . uh . . . perhaps ‘saturnalia’ would do as a description. They realized that while we looked the same outside . . .”

Sally spoke, “Except for our tattoos of course.”

“That we were all quite different in many details, especially when it came to sex,” finished mom.

“Except for liking big dicks like daddy’s and yours, of course!” said Sylvia reaching over and handled my member, it grew a little more. The thought of their erotic wingding with the six having sex all at the same time, even if not all together or swinging was touching up its tumescence already.

“But we couldn’t tell them about that. In fact, as you heard, we hadn’t even told each other about our flings with our pop.” Mom said with a wistful tone. She absently took a hit. I grabbed the doobie as I was buzzing good but this was blowing my mind.

Sylvia made the point clear. “Remember, that we all had been married by then for several years. So each of us knew what our partner’s turn-on’s were and what made them tick sexually. The others were not treating their spouses with the kind of TLC that made each of the couples’ screwing unique. Thus, they concluded that their wife was the right one for them. Plus what man could stand the challenge to his ego, that his gal was not the fairest of the three, or should I say hottest sex kitten.”

“Exactly. Your dad still thinks I’m top-cat in the pussy department, just as you have a special spot for me in your heart too, Honey.” mother put a cap on the matter.

“Tell me about the tattoos, I’ve seen all three by now, but what’s the story about when you got them.” Sally got up and retrieved an old album from some shelf on the far side of the room. She gave it to Sylvia who searched through it, but mom seemed to know what they were looking for and flipped to it right away. I was handed a blow up of a photograph of the three of them out of the scrapbook.

“Mom explained, “This is from when we had a gig in New Orleans, at the height of our short career in show biz. We visited during Mardi Gras and had these tee-shirts custom made for us. That’s just before we got the tattoos, so you could tell one from another of us, if you were that intimate. Also, so we couldn’t pull the classic switcharoo, where one girl substitutes for her sister on a date, and the fella can’t tell the difference. We used to do it sometimes in high school to a new boy, if the other sister changed her mind about going out with him. It didn’t quite work so well after the guy got to know you. Too many details to keep straight about previous dates.”

“But when Sylvie snuck in and did a switch with a guy that Sally really liked, that was ruled out of bounds. So that no one of us could ever pull that off in the future, ‘cause when it's husbands that’s a whole different 'ball' game, we made a pact. We would get small tattoos of flowers on our lower buttocks so that any man who got us in bed could be sure of which one he was screwing. Sally got the roses, like her tee-shirt. See in the photo? That set the pattern, I got the tulips and Sylvia the bluebells. So Sally had ‘rosy cheeks’, Sylvie had bluebells on her bottom, like her favorite blue bell-bottom pants. With me, ‘kiss my tulips’ meant you can kiss my ass!”

In the picture of the trio they looked so alike that no one could have figured out who was who. But they each had a different tee-shirt on. Sally’s was beige and had two roses, the stems crossed so that the blooms were situated over her breasts at the spots where her nipples would be. Underneath in Kelly green letters it read:
IT’S FUN TO BE POLLINATED!

Sylvia was in the middle, it had to be her because you could see she had on her infamous blue bell-bottoms. Her shirt had a pair of bluebells placed in not quite so risqu?ashion. Hers was light blue and read in bright blue lettering:
WANNA TOUCH MY PETALS?

Mom’s purple tulips were straight stemmed, but like