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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ye Olde Pickup Place 8/9 {Thinking Horndog}(ScFi BBW MF MFF MMF/F D/s oral anal ir rom)
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Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2012 22:10:05 -0400
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A Swarm Cycle Story.  Chapter 8 of 9.
<1st attachment, "Ye_Olde_Pickup_8.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Ye Olde Pickup Place
Part: 8 of 9
Universe: The Swarm Cycle
Summary: Some unguarded words at a favorite watering hole lead to some long-
term relationships.

Keywords: ScFi BBW MF MFF MMF/F D/s oral anal ir rom

Ye Olde Pickup Place

Chapter 8

Ronald:

	That became the operating model.  Jackson would wander over once or
twice a week, usually when we were planning to go out somewhere, and fill in.
Sometimes, he would get lucky -- usually with Bridgette.  We continued to go
to Frederick's with the guys and what Chet, in particular, didn't know about
Jackson's comings and goings didn't hurt him.  Once everybody got
comfortable, I pushed things a bit, because it was my job, and that brought
us to a certain Thursday night when the girls, more or less relieved of the
pressure of having to pull down as many hours as they could handle, were both
off...

	We'd gone dancing.  It was Ladies' Night at the club we went to and
the girls loved to dance -- and I did, too, when I didn't have to hunt down a
partner.  Girls seem to fall into two camps -- the ones that don't want to be
touched and the ones that do -- and fortunately, my girls fell into the
latter group.  I guess the first group would be really small if you said they
NEVER want to be touched, but there is a large group that insists upon being
picky about it and making you get signed permission slips and such.  That
group varies in the amount of restrictions imposed, but I didn't have any,
effectively, and neither did Jackson since we were both on the 'active
lovers' list.  It didn't seem to matter to the girls if one of us put his
hand on her ass or not -- in fact, they seemed to enjoy it, rather than
trying to set limits.

	Anyway, when we got home nobody was boozed up but everybody was hot
-- and the girls got naked as soon as we came through the door and Jackson
and I weren't slow to follow.  I dragged Bridgette across my lap on the couch
-- deliberately selecting her in order to equalize things a bit -- and I
started rubbing her pussy.  She got juicy pretty quickly -- as usual -- but I
was propping my thumb on her bung and it started winking and I got interested
and started rubbing it...

	She got quiet, so I looked up from her ass to catch her expression.
Her eyes had this glow to them, and she whispered, "Please?"

	"Looking to pull booty duty?" I jibed -- and she just nodded, her
eyes on mine.  "Well, that would be interesting, I guess," I mused.  "You've
done it before, obviously."  I got another nod.  "What do we need?"

	"Well, I ought to be clean, but it isn't absolutely necessary,"
Bridgette replied.  "I went a while ago, so I shouldn't be packed or
anything.  Some lube and a rag to clean up with are probably the minimums."

	"Get 'em," I decided.  "If you seem messy, how long will that take to
fix?"

	"Twenty minutes?"

	"I guess that takes the spontaneity out of it, though, huh?"

	"Yeah..."

	"We'll try it without."

	"Try what?" Beatrice asked.

	"Going in through the back door," I amplified.

	Beatrice frowned.  "Sis?"

	"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it!" Bridgette retorted, shooting
off toward the bathroom.

	I pursed my lips and eyed Jackson.  "Don't get tied up in anything --
I might need help."  Beatrice thought about frowning -- visibly -- but she
decided to see where things were headed.

Bridgette:

	One of the great things about Ron is that he gets it.  Sis is hot and
willing and she loves him and she'll give him anything -- but she's
inexperienced.  I, on the other hand, have been there and done that -- and
enjoyed a lot of it.  So while Sis was flinching at the idea of having her
ass invaded, I was looking forward to something that I'd learned to enjoy
years before and never expected to be able to do again!  Ron understood --
but I didn't realize how well until I got back from the bathroom...

	I crawled back over his lap and handed him the rag and the lube and
he waved at Jackson and said, "Come over here and keep her pussy happy while
I open her up."  There was a time in my life when I was more practiced -- and
took enemas regularly -- and would have just knelt up, but Ron was right to
take things easy -- it had been a while.  Still, it was like riding a
bicycle, especially with Jackson sticking his thumb in my pussy and hooking
his index finger over the hood of my clitty and wiggling it!  I didn't worry
about Ron's fingers at all and I opened right up, just like the bad old days!
Ron went, "Hmmmm, not too messy," and pretty soon he was pumping two fingers
in my butt -- and it felt GREAT!  We went for a couple of minutes like that
and I started charging up for a cum -- but Ron stopped and said, "Get up,
Babe -- don't lose my fingers, now!"  I stood up gingerly and Ron waved at
Jackson as he got up with me and said, "Toss the couch cushions on the floor,
will you buddy?  Then stretch out -- you're nice and hard, right?"

	Jackson gave a gravelly chuckle and said, "Like stone!"

	Ron said, "Good!"  Then he looked over at Sis and said, "Go get a
kitchen chair, Hon."  Sis went off, perplexed -- and I have to admit I was a
little confused, too!  She came back in a minute, though, and Ron said, "Pull
up a seat -- close in -- you get to play, too."  Then he turned to me and
said, "Climb on Jackson's cock -- he gets the front side and I get the back!"

	I was ready to sing!  I'd been doubled before -- several times, in
fact -- and I'd only fantasized about it the night that Ron brought Jackson
into the family, never expecting that we would actually GET there!  I stepped
up and settled over Jackson's cock -- which is a nice one, by the way, even
if it isn't QUITE the anaconda that Ron has swinging!  Ron's fingers were
still deep in my ass as I bent forward to settle over Jackson, with his cock
deep in my pussy!

	THAT didn't last!  Ron pumped his fingers in me a few more times and
then he pulled them -- and replaced them with the blunt head of his cock!  It
hurt a little to start -- it always does -- but I get this mindset and the
pain and the pleasure mix and it isn't a problem.  This time, it wasn't,
anyway, because Ron took it easy.  Oh, he kept up the pressure, but he didn't
jam me; it took nearly thirty seconds for him to pump himself all the way to
the root in me.  With two cocks in deep, I figured we had everything in place
that was going to be, but Ron looked up and told Sis, "Pull the chair in
close and slouch so your sister can eat your pussy!"  Beatrice's eyes got as
big as saucers, but Ron said, "Now, Babe!  This is as close as we can get to
making your sister airtight with only two guys.  You can do it!"

	Sis yelped, "Isn't this incest or something?"

	"Can she get you pregnant?" Ron shot back.  "Can you get HER
pregnant?"  Sis shook her head.  "Then it isn't incest.  Do it!"  Sis scooted
up, looking down at me nervously, but I grinned up at her and brought up a
hand to beckon her, so she shrugged and popped her eyes and pushed her pussy
at me.

	"Time to party!" Ron announced, and he and Jackson started working on
a rhythm...

Ronald:

	There was a moment there when I thought I was going to have to spank
Beatrice, but she stopped bucking before I could get irritated.  Then we were
stroking and it was turning out that Bridgette rocking back onto us was
probably the best method of handling things, so I waved for Beatrice to cross
her legs over Bridgette's back and anchor herself to her face.  Beatrice
found a way to ride the chair on her own and I started looking for my own
pleasure instead of trying to direct things.

	Two people having sex works pretty naturally.  Three people having
sex requires rhythm.  Four people having sex... Well, you get the idea.  I
have trouble multi-tasking -- but I've learned that women sometimes don't.
Don't ask me how they do it, but by now I've seen numerous examples.  At the
time, Beatrice couldn't have kept it going, I don't think -- but Bridgette
had been wild and free and crazy and had operated without limits -- and the
little challenge I presented her with was familiar, a remembered pleasure, so
instead of worrying about it, she embraced it joyfully -- and took us ALL
along for the ride!

	I'm pretty sure Jackson grunted and spewed first -- but Beatrice was
starting to arch herself, rubbing her puffy, wet cunt on Bridgette's face, so
SOMEHOW, I held out until she let out a screech and started jerking and
shaking!  Then I lit off, delivering a semen enema just as Beatrice let up on
her sister so Bridgette could howl, "YES!  BREED ME!  BREED ME EVERYWHERE!"
Her asshole started rippling and I thought I was going to double up -- and
Jackson croaked, "JEEZUS!" and started pumping again from below.

	And that was the FIRST act...

	After that, Jackson and I were in for the long haul; we rode
Bridgette hard, but she was right in there with us.  Beatrice let up on her
face, but Bridgette panted, "Put your feet up and raise your ass!"  Beatrice
did so and Bridgette stuck out her tongue and started probing Beatrice's
asshole with it when she came forward off her stroke.  Beatrice's eyeballs
got big and she started rubbing her pussy and before you know it she was
making squishy sounds and moaning and having a gay old time!

	Bridgette's ass must have rippled around my cock six times before I
got that tingle that signals the final lap again.  Jackson started grunting
and puffing and I tried to tune things, but Bridgette panted, "Spank my ass!
Beat me!"   And when I did it, she clamped down and things got intense FAST
and I let out a roar and painted the inside of her colon a second time!
Bridgette let out a howl and crested and dragged Jackson over the top again,
too, leaving us ALL wasted!

	After dropping forward onto her back for a moment, I pushed myself up
to the vertical because I could feel her arms shaking.  Bridgette tugged my
arm so I leaned down and she whispered, "She's ready -- stick a finger up her
ass."  Beatrice was pulling her clit and one nipple and whining and lost in
her own world, looking for an orgasm, so I grabbed the lube bottle and
greased my middle finger and, totally without warning, buried it in her ass
to the palm!

	Beatrice's eyes bulged and she sucked in half of the air in the room,
then she let out a shriek that would wake the dead and started convulsing!
The chair wasn't made to take it so she fell off, causing my finger to pop
out, but it had done its job, anyway.  I pulled out of Bridgette's ass,
releasing a minor mess, and went over to make sure Beatrice was okay while
distractedly wiping my cock with the rag.  Beatrice lay on her side trying to
get her eyes to uncross; Bridgette surged up and said, "See, Sis?  Booty duty
is FUN!"  Then Jackson pulled her down to suck face for a while.

	I got mostly clean and settled in a chair and pulled Beatrice onto my
lap -- just in time to see little Alan come into the room, rubbing his eyes.
"What happened?"

	"Nothing, son," I replied.  "Go on back to bed.  Aunt Bea was having
too much fun and let out a yell.  Sorry we disturbed you."

	Alan took in the scene and said, "Okay," a little petulantly, and
staggered off to bed.  I gave Beatrice a little push and she went off to make
sure he was settled.

	About that time, Jackson muttered apologetically, "Hey, you know,
things got going and I forgot..."  He looked sheepish and I realized that in
our hurry to hook up, we hadn't given Jackson time to put on a rubber.

	I eyed Bridgette and said, "Does it REALLY fucking matter?"

	Bridgette shrugged.  "At least this time I'll know who it is..."
Grinning, she leaned back down to kiss him -- and that was the end of it for
a moment.  Then she came back up, though, eyed me and said, "Beatrice is
another matter -- you know that, right?"

	"Yeah," I agreed.  "Jackson does, too, don't you, Buddy?"

	"Yeah.  Don't rush me, though..."

	"She won't.  She'll police herself," I told him.  Bridgette nodded
agreement.

	"She's not a total slut like I am," Bridgette said quietly.  "She's
never gone all-out and played the no-limit game.  She can -- and maybe she
will -- but she isn't ready yet -- and she's in love..."

	"You're not, though," I retorted, knowing better.

	"I have... diminished expectations," Bridgette replied.  "But my men
know how to make my day, and I can't ask for anything more.  That was GREAT!"

	I grinned at her.  "I'm sure we'll do something like that again.  Why
don't you guys hit the shower and clean up?"  Bridgette nodded and got up off
Jackson and pulled him to his feet and they waddled off.

	Beatrice came in and crawled back into my lap.  "I can't believe we
did that!"

	"Hon, your sister is a wild child.  She's been out there, going for
the gusto, trying it all, fearless and without shame.  It didn't end all that
well, but the opportunity is back and she's going to want to enjoy herself
freely.  If you'd been where she's been and done what she's done -- and been
free to enjoy it, believing that it was what your man wanted you to do -- you
would want to do it again.  I don't know if I can support the extremes that
Bridgette's first man pushed her to go to, but I hope that you can learn to
get away from the limitations that others will try to place on you and enjoy
yourself as freely and shamelessly as she does, worrying only about what I
think and want."

	"I want that," Beatrice exclaimed ardently, gazing up at me.  "I want
you to be proud of me."

	"If you're a happy little slut, I'll be more than pleased," I
replied.

	"I'll never be little!" she retorted, but she smiled impishly.


	Three months went by, not uneventfully.  It took less than a week for
Beatrice, thoroughly prepared by her sister, to kneel up before me and ask to
have me take her anal cherry.  I was thorough but careful and she got
seriously into it, confirming that orgasm was possible that way, although she
decided that Jackson's cock was a little better suited to her back hole than
mine.  In fact, she made a habit of offering anal to Jackson, part of the
draw for both of them being the fact that no rubber was required.  Jackson
took to kidding her, referring to her as 'BeeUTTress' as an inside joke.  At
one point, I thought to intervene, but Jackson said, "No, don't bother.  If
one or both of us wasn't getting off, things would be different, but we are,
so leave it alone -- it works."  Of course, it got left up to me to explain
to Alan that Aunt Bea wasn't going to deliver a baby from her butt...

	I moved out of my apartment and that freed up money -- which
translated to more free time for the girls, among other things.  Nights when
one of them worked, I tended to eat at Frederick's, with or without the guys;
nights when neither of them worked, we tended to eat out, with Jackson in
tow.

	Toward the end of the three months, I sat the girls down and said,
"Okay, let's take a look at things.  Is either of you being neglected?"

	Beatrice looked at Bridgette, got a head shake, and said, "No."

	"When I moved in, the finances got better -- am I right?"

	Bridgette answered this one, "Yes.  A lot better."

	"Both of you have shared a bed with Jackson on more than one
occasion.  How bad has that been, exactly?" I queried.

	"Jackson's sweet," Bridgette declared, and flicked a glance at
Beatrice, who nodded.

	"If Jackson wasn't paying separate rent and utilities for a place
he's using two or three nights a week, the standard of living might go up
again around here," I opined.  "Does he press you for a fuck every time he
crawls in bed with one of you?"

	Bridgette snorted.  "I press HIM sometimes!  Sis?"

	"He's good about it," Beatrice agreed cautiously.  "And he's pretty
good, too, I guess..."

	"... When you have to settle," I finished for her.

	"Yeah."  Beatrice looked a little guilty.

	"Banishing him to the couch is always an option," I pointed out.

	"I wouldn't do that," Beatrice insisted.  "It isn't necessary,
anyway.  Besides," she blushed a bit, "I've changed my mind a couple of
times."

	"So if Jackson was to move in, you two would manage to suffer in
silence?" I pressed.

	"Something like that."  Bridgette grinned a little.  Beatrice nodded,
displaying her usual reticence.

	"Good.  I'll brace him with the idea," I announced.

	Jackson paid for an additional month of rent while we tried it out,
but it worked.  I started looking around for us a slightly bigger place, but
there didn't seem to be any hurry.  Time passed and things settled in, and I
knew it was going to work when one night I was using Bridgette for a mattress
after another breeding attempt and she held up a finger and whispered,
"Shhh!"

	I lurched up.  "What?"

	"Listen.  That isn't anal."

	"You can tell?"

	"She makes a different noise when she's taking it where it belongs,"
Bridgette announced.  "She's making that noise now."

	"There is a rubber in there, then..." I ventured.

	"Well, sure..."  Bridgette rolled her eyes.  "Once she's had one for
you, she'll loosen up -- but not before.  I play Russian roulette with
Jackson, myself -- we're using the rhythm system.  If I'm ovulating, he gets
to wear a raincoat.  He's good with it."

	"It's gonna work, then," I decided, settling back down on her.

	"Of course..."  Bridgette grabbed my ass and pumped me against her.
"Come on -- you aren't done!"  She was right -- I hadn't shut down -- so I
succumbed to her demands and took off again.  It's a tough job being a stud,
but someone has to do it...


	There had to come a time when the change in living arrangements
surfaced.  It took a while, but one Tuesday night Chet said, "Hey, Jackson, I
went by your place yesterday and it was vacant.  When did you move?"

	Jackson flicked a glance at me.  "I dunno.  Officially?  It's been a
little over a month, I guess."

	"When were you gonna say something?" Chet pressed.  "Where are you,
anyway?"

	"I didn't figure I needed to make an announcement," Jackson replied
blandly.  "Nobody hangs out at my place."

	"We might now, if it's nicer," Chet declared.

	"I doubt it," Jackson replied.  "Ron's sharing his place."

	"But Ron's living with the sweathog sist..." Chet's voice trailed
off.  "Oops."  He had the grace to look guilty.

	"Chet," I said lightly, "I was going to get you one of those
skeletons that hangs in the doctor's office for Christmas so you had a
girlfriend, but I can't find one with a pussy."

	Chet glared at me and turned to Jackson.  "Which one are you
fucking?"

	"What makes you think I'm doing either one?" Jackson replied.

	"You're fucking something," Chet declared, suddenly positive.  "I
hadn't put it together, but yeah, you're doing one of them.  Bridgette,
right?  Beatrice is all ga-ga over Ron..."  He shook his head.  "Doesn't ANY
of my friends have standards?"

	Bridgette had crept up on us, unseen, during Chet's latest rant.
"Poor Chet," she murmured in mock solicitude, patting his cheek.  "He
pretendeth that real women meet not his requirements -- and in truth, they do
not, because his shank is short and he requireth every millimeter.  He
twisteth his blow-up doll into a pretzel to obtain the boon of unimpeded
access..."

	Chet turned purple.  "You fat bitch!" he snarled.

	"Tsk, tsk," Bridgette chided, "Thou canst dish it out, but thou canst
not take it...  Hast thou an exposed nerve, there, then?"  She swayed off.

	"You bought that one," Pete opined.

	"She doesn't know the size of my dick!" Chet snarled.

	"She didn't -- but she does now!" Pete shot back.

	Chet was pissed the rest of the night -- but the subject of Jackson's
living arrangements was closed -- at least in earshot of Jackson or me.  It
soon became clear that Chet was talking out of school to others, though --
things started drifting back our way.  Chet's assumption that Jackson was
doing Bridgette only fired the imagination of others, who began drawing
other, more accurate assumptions regarding our living arrangement -- and I
began to worry...

	One guy in ten was going to be actively jealous of Jackson and I
sharing a couple of women -- most would merely express admiration.  But this
wasn't the good old days, if there ever was such a thing; this was the Swarm
era, so, naturally, assumptions got made.  Poor Jackson wasn't convincing as
sponsor-grade material, so that put the crosshairs on MY back -- and they
were unwelcome!  Things had been humming along just fine...

	Chet, to his credit, pooh-poohed such things -- at Beatrice and
Bridgette's expense, naturally.  "So Ron latched onto a couple of porkers who
otherwise would never have seen a dick," he declaimed, "That doesn't mean
that Ron has the score -- he just stumbled onto something.  It isn't like
they're babes or anything -- I mean, jeezus!  They're a pair of fucking
elephants!  Ron just doesn't have any standards, you know?  And Jackson --
well, he couldn't catch a woman with a butterfly net, so sloppy seconds
probably look pretty good, you know?"

	Problem was, a lot of people knew that Chet lived in his own little
world and that he was regularly unable to see situations that were right in
front of his face, so he wasn't the perfect source for a demurral.

	Jackson and I downplayed it, of course.  "We're just roommates --
cost of living and all that," was the official line, with "No need to get
wild, imagining things that aren't going on..."  Of course, imagination
probably came close to the mark...  We got enough comments that I began to
seriously worry.  What if some jackass said something to some OTHER jackass
who said something to yet another...  Our circle of friends, coworkers and
acquaintances didn't include any obvious Earth First sympathizers, being
largely military-related, but there were going to be holes out there...

	As much as I hated the idea, I went out and got a carry permit for my
.45 caliber pistol.

	Frederick's management liked the arrangement -- it meant that they
could call both of my girls in when things got heavy and no one would
complain too loudly over the price of a babysitter.  Since the bunch of us
tended to show up on those nights, anyway, it all seemed to work out.


	It must have been the computer show -- nothing else really could
explain it.  There were plenty of sponsor-class guys around, but they were
all in boots -- but the Confederacy had made a deal with the government not
to poach half of the military for their armed forces so we would have
something on the ground when the Swarm came, so many of them were ineligible.
That still left a lot of discharged vets like me and some retirees, but I
think they stayed away out of courtesy -- it'd be a pain in the ass to be at
a pickup and be theoretically eligible, but only get to wave bye-bye because
you were in boots -- even if that kind of thing DOES go with the job.  But
one Thursday night the girls were working and the guys were gathered for the
after-work get-together, a bunch of guys came wandering in from the nearby
hotel -- and forty minutes later, as they were getting up, we got the
announcement...

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