Celebrity Fun Disneys Prinzessinnen
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PalimpsestChapter 49 free porn video
"There's so much to be thankful for I could go on for hours," Bill mumbled. "Since one involves filling vacant spaces in our tummies, I'll be brief." The large group chuckled. "Also my newest daughter Margie, one of several new daughters to bless me, will be filling in the large circle of my blessing with what she calls the innards.
"As many of you might have noticed, I'm not the fittest among you. It's a burden to me and my family. And yet just being amongst you speechifying in the warmth of this loving home makes me choke up with thanks. I want to thank my lovely wife and daughter for bringing me here. It wasn't an easy trip, and I imagine they were very glad to arrive at this remarkable house as was I.
"Only when we entered here did I begin to understand why this Thanksgiving would be unlike any other. Why essentially it needed to be here. Being greeted by Marta, Joe's beautiful betrothed, and welcomed into the embrace of this unique family began registering the purpose of our coming down here. Of course Roger and Joe not being among the greeters seemed odd. It seems they were being greeted in a much more intimate fashion. And soon my wife found a similar greeting. To put it frankly, this house is saturated with sex, and I for one couldn't be more thankful. Thank you Harold for bringing my wife the kind of loving she's needed. I know it's strange, but believe me, I appreciate it deeply.
"Aside from the odd entanglements in various beds, the greatest embrace I found occurred first with Margie. She as sister/wife to several amazing women asked Helen and I to accept her and them as daughters. Our agreement brought her such joy it lit up the room. Again the reason needed time to fully become apparent. With each sister/wife learning of my wife and me accepting them as daughters, Margie's joy became theirs. Most memorably Mary refused to release me from her embrace and kisses. I didn't mind at all." The group laughed.
"I'm thankful to have my family all here, an expanded one at that. It's great seeing Carol with my son again. She's like a daughter to Helen and I, among many daughters. I have a feeling both Roger and Carol give thanks for being here together.
"Anyway, we should all give thanks to Joe and Marta for bringing us together this night, for the love they exude infecting us all, for the warmth of loving hearts filling this big house, and last but not least for the feast Joe cooked for us."
"Amen," shouted the throng.
"Thanks Dad," Margie stood, sniffled and smiled. "Ahem." She performed the old joke of unrolling a yard's length of paper. "I just wanted to say a couple things." Everyone groaned and chuckled. "Being the second youngest," she smiled at George, "and by far the smallest, I have a unique perspective, looking up at loving smiles instead of straight on or downwards. Napoleon had his horse. I have a chair." She stood on it. "Whoah, so this is what it looks like from Roger's perspective. No wonder he's so dizzy. Just kidding sort of.
"Seriously, what brings us here to this house in the boonies under a blanket of snow that keeps getting thicker? Is it a dare to see if Joe can out cook Mom? Let's hope the rookie's got some talent. But being Joe, he had to feed at least three times the mouths to really show off. Even Marta made herself scarce in fear of some kitchen explosion, turkey and dressing flying everywhere, not to mention the mashed potatoes. No.
"Is it an excuse to get a weekend off and get out of the house and have someone else doing all the work for once, cooking and cleaning and making the beds? Maybe. Probably not.
"Did you hope you'd be ending the evening playing children's games like musical chairs around this huge table? You didn't.
"No, we're here to share love. There's too much of it to be broken up into three or four families. It had to be here with us all together. Sisters and daughters and mothers and sons and fathers and brothers all together. Until this evening, many of us here can't recall a gathering of the family meaning anything joyous. I for one hated Thanksgiving. Mary too, and she didn't even have an attempt at it. Marianne got sent packing before last year's celebration. Debra's family couldn't afford the luxury of flying her to Arizona and until recently she didn't think she wanted to. Marta was afraid she'd leak her problems or Mom and Dad could tell. Some of us had better luck. L's parents never shirked on love and respect and we welcome them here. Joe's parents shared their love with not only their children, but Carol as well. Their presence, along with Marta's family, brings the feeling of the warmth of hearth and home to this gathering, and I for one couldn't be more thankful.
"I was lost and now I'm found sayeth the spiritual Amazing Grace. How true it feels standing amongst you. This is home at last and this is family. I am utterly grateful and amazed and full of the gracefulness of loving souls. I feel saved, rescued from the wilderness I crawled and begged through my few years on earth not realizing I held to a path that brought me here to be warmed and cuddled and nourished and made healthy and happy and whole. I'm no more the strange lost wild child. My family cares for me, listens to me, loves me, and I care and listen and love them, every one of you. I think it's true for all of us, especially those of us to be ceremoniously bonded tomorrow. I know for a fact Marianne has been on a similar lost journey, and I believe Mary and Marta have as well. Debra too. That we met, with our loving brother/husband Joe as the catalyst, feels like a miracle, a prayer made flesh, a profound blessing, I'm trying to put into words how thankful and full of joy I am, we are, for Joe and Marta and all of you being here at this moment. I'm trying, but it's impossible. As a writer, it's discouraging, the only thing that is tonight. Oh well. I love you. Happy Thanksgiving. Let's Eat!"
"Amen to eating," said Roger, for which he got a slap on the arm from Carol and smiles and chuckles from everyone.
Amongst the myriad conversations between people that had been strangers before the feast, a gentle wash of voices ebbing and flowing like a quiet beach, as the food passed from hand to hand and portions forked or spooned onto plates, Joe brought Margie to his familiar lap and Marta pushed her chair to be near them. "That was beautiful. You're beautiful, Little One," Joe murmured just loud enough to be heard.
"You did us proud, my love," murmured Marta.
Each kissed her after their praise. Margie's smile glowed. "It's easy getting sentimental," she responded. "I'm losing my edge."
They laughed. Joe whispered, "You will always have those dark places in the soul. We all do. If you want you can borrow mine."
"Maybe later. I'm way too happy." She hugged Joe and Marta and bounced off his lap and onto her chair. Food piled onto her plate soon filled her mouth and stomach. She ate more than anyone else.
At one point, her mouth full, she told Joe, "You did good."
Though Harold had provided the kitchen with enough space in which hired caterers could finish up their quality foods for large dinner parties, thus two ovens with room for a turkey each, Joe still needed to keep one turkey in a warming pan, and though he continued basting it, it ended up drier than he'd have liked. He made sure the out-of -towners got the better turkeys. With enough gravy, and he made enough to fill a large puddle, it tasted fine. Using his mother's recipes for the feast, time tested over generations, and being a vigilant cook, everything tasted like home even in its abundance.
Pie making delayed by Marta's mysterious departure ended up completed when dinner began, even with Margie's and George's assistance prepping the apples, so the apple and pecan pies needed time to cool. Groans and belly rubs conveyed the diners' need to wait on desert, so, like everything else, timing couldn't have been better.
Joe, Marianne and Margie removed the plates and the carcasses, one in front of Joe and another Marta's dad and the third Joe's mother, the older two standing on ceremony as the family carvers. The three also removed the remaining food and brought everything to the kitchen.
Marta carried carafes of coffee to the table, both decaf and regular, and two choices of aperitif, Armagnac and Amaretto. Everyone, even George, either flavored their coffee or had a snifter of the alcoholic beverage.
Then, as the three plate removers washed and dried and packaged the leftovers, Marta offered cigars to the guests. Everyone but Joe's parents accepted the nearly black lengthy cigars. They retrieved their coats. Mary got the fire well fed in the hearth. George and Leo volunteered to clear away the snow on the open patio, and soon it filled with bodies and smoke and conversation.
In the kitchen, Marianne complained about the two men she caught staring at her everytime she glanced their way. "The only thing to do is spend the night with Leo," she concluded. "At least he's unattached. Why the old goat Harold ignores your mother, our mother, is beyond me."
"So you plan to hang with Marta's brother and make the old guy jealous?" asked Margie disapprovingly.
"I don't see what else I can do."
Joe asked, "Do you want to sleep with Leo?"
"To tell you the truth, I'd much rather be with you guys. But I suppose the bed will be crowded and you'll have your hands full and other parts equally occupied," she caressed his groin.
"L and Mary will sleep with Patti and Pussycat if she decides to come here. Marta will probably leave my penis for others to enjoy since we made love most lovingly last night."
"You know I'm an avid voyeur," Margie spoke. "If I need Joe inside me, I'll wake him in the middle of the night for my own needs." They chuckled.
"It's just ... annoying. It's more to prove a point," Marianne decided.
"I don't like it," Margie said. "It'll probably distract Dad more."
"You're forgetting what your best at," Joe pointed out. "Talk to Harold. Talk to Leo. Nip it in the bud."
"You're right!" exclaimed Marianne. "Of course it's the best way. Why didn't I think of it?" No one spoke letting Marianne answer her question. "I'm annoyed by their attention because they're in our house, my house, where my love lives and because I'm not seemingly in an exclusive situation with you or my sister/wives, they figure I'm available or hope I am. That doesn't make your dad's stares any more forgivable. But Leo..."
"You could do worse, Sweetness," Margie presented. "He's nice and he's young and he's a good looking man."
Joe supported Margie. "Except for a feeling he saw you as a prostitute the night you slept together, which maybe you projected..."
"No I don't think so. Once we decided to do the dirty deed, all talking ceased and he expected an easy lay, like he intended to get his money's worth or something. Of course an all nighter would have busted his bank account."
"But it didn't start that way," Joe reminded her. "I saw you two behaving like contemporaries, sharing culture or what have you. Sex obliterated what had made sex happen. Maybe his initiation into the physical and then his youthful vigor and relentlessness ended the talk. I imagine you gave him pleasure he never experienced before. Not building up to it, but jumping in the deep end immediately, you gave him what you brought to the night, the skills of a well practiced sex worker proud of the pleasure you bestow and without any intention of expanding on it, of developing it into a loving relationship. However, being young and inexperienced and a man, he thought you two had made love. Now he looks at you wondering why you left and why you don't come up to him and kiss him and snuggle against him and talk, beginning another memorable evening."
"Hunh," Marianne vocalized thoughtfully. "So you think if I bring conversation into the sex, I might feel less like a professional and more like a fun friend?"
"You have to be up front though," Margie suggested. "Like you said, he doesn't understand how our relationships work here. He needs to see any intimacy you share with him comes from a place of fun and friendship and not of love and devotion or being exclusive."
"It's weird. As good as I am getting men all cushy and comfortable and feeling good about themselves, when I build it up too far, which doesn't really happen in an hour, but over time like with Leo or especially your dad, I can't seem to find the brakes, their brakes because I've been pressing mine the moment I get that vibe they're falling for me. It makes me wish I could give them a touch of my skill whatever it is: empathy or just really good listening. They'd see who I want to be with, and it's not them, at least not in the sense of living with them and sharing a life."
"Tell them, Sweetness," said Joe. "You don't want to because you're afraid of hurting people. But it hurts them when they misunderstand. With the skills of a chess player you move them towards comfort and nourishment of the soul using each question as steps to the goal. This barrier, this fear of being hurtful prevents you from seeing the following moves and how eventually they put a man in a better place both in terms of understanding their relationship to you and letting you be comfortable with them."
"Makes sense, my love. Thanks." Joe and Marianne hugged.
"We'll finish up, Sweetness. Go mend bridges."
"Are you sure?"
On tippy toes, Margie whispered into Marianne's ear, "It's time the scullery maid seduces her master." They giggled. They kissed cheeks. They exchanged their love. Marianne winked at Joe and bounced away.
Joe smiled confusedly. "What did you say?"
"Just this my love," Margie answered, hopping into Joe's arms and kissing him soundly. Breathing into his ear wetly, she whispered, "I'm not waiting until the middle of the night. We can finish these later."
Joe revealed his agreement by carrying her in his arms through the dining room and up the stairs and into her room, closer than his. She started getting heavy. Those that saw the giggling and kissing young lady carried by the big man mostly showed amusement. J's wife had to be made to understand the situation with the adult and under aged teenager both by her husband and her daughter. Patti grimaced, loosening up when Mary whispered, "You just wish it was you."
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