CHAPTER XXIII
I don't know if it was by chance or on purpose, but when we sat down to dinner I was placed between Sole and Marga (Sole to my left and Marga to my right), with Javi in front of me. As little as I had talked to them until then, Sole hadn't given me a bad impression; but Marga seemed unbearable from the start. They were the classic girls of daddy, although Sole hid it a bit more and you could still have a reasonably extensive conversation with her; Marga, on the other hand, was so caught up in her ladyboy, her jewelry, her father's house (the best in the world) or his boat (the best in the world), she had no more to give. And if that wasn't enough, she always asked for confirmation of any of her stupid phrases from her father, mother, brother, or sister.—Wow, how strong!—was her first exclamation after we sat down.—The cutlery of Aunt Merche is identical to the one you bought in Portugal, isn't it, Mamuchi?
—They're very similar, but not identical,—replied her mamuchi Maite, with a tone that revealed how little she also liked this daughter who had been assigned to her without being born or giving birth.
—I would say they're identical.
—When we get home, you'll see the mangoes are different.
—No, if you say so it must be true.
—Will dinner be served soon?—asked Javi, more concerned about his stomach than anything else, despite being placed between Bea and Luci.
—Don't be so impatient, son,—scolded papuchi Santi.—The boy seems to have the solitary. He thinks of nothing but eating.
—He already has someone to resemble,—interrupted Merche, who had sat down next to my father, looking at her brother with a sarcastic smile.
—Finally Pet appeared with an enormous soup bowl on a silver platter and began serving in the order they should have indicated, starting with The ladies and ending with the gentlemen.
—Ugh!—Marga puffed as the first spoonful of soup approached her mouth—. This is burning, isn't it, Javi?
—It's fine for me—replied the addressed one, swallowing without hesitation.
The truth was that Marga was right and the soup was hot as hell. There was nothing to see but the smoke rising from each plate.
—Take it from the edges—advised Mamuchi—. You'll see it burns less like this.
—Etiquette rules—indicated Sole, addressing me—state that during meals, the napkin should be placed on the thighs.
And without being short or lazy, she took my napkin, unfolded it, and put it in its designated place, but taking advantage of the action to palpate well my crotch, with special attention to the main part that stood out there.
—That's not how it is—hastened to correct Marga.
And using the excuse to rectify the way her sister had placed my napkin on me, she also performed her own palpations on the same bulge, which was already starting to protrude more than usual due to all the fondling.
Less Javi, who had refilled his plate for the second time while the rest of us were still halfway through our first, the conversation began to liven up and each person chatted with whoever was handy. Luckily for me, Marga had found a vein of resignation in her own Mamuchi, who sat to her right, and she told him all about the wonderful things she would buy on her next trip to Monte Carlo. Beyond that, Santi joked with Luci, who laughed heartily at his uncle's jokes. Bea was the only one keeping quiet, as Javi went off on his own and my father, who sat on the other side of him, devoted all his attention to Merche.
Sole, who was left-handed for better use of both, did not stop bothering me with her right hand.
—Do you mind if I touch it?—she asked in a low voice.
—I don't mind... It's just that here, in front of so many— People, I think it's not the right place or time. —Don't you see everyone is very busy talking to the person next to them? It's sure no one will notice. —Even so, I still think it's a bit bold. —Do you let me or don't you let me?—it was almost an ultimatum from her part. —If you have that much interest...—I ended up surrendering—. But try to do it discreetly. And the left hand of the right one started to caress me well, the more than awake rooster, who wasn't singing but was stretching his neck very well. It started above the napkin, then below it and finally, when the thing had already become a decided package, it didn't go off the beaten path. —What a good tool you're wasting!—she whispered to me again. And with a skill that showed she wasn't handling her first male zipper, she opened the zip and let out the good tool, pampering it with gentle caresses that made it grateful, stretching even more to offer more surface for such kind and delicate attention. I was trying to hide as well as possible the progressive numbness taking hold of me and tried to keep a face of circumstances that didn't reveal what was happening inside me. Luckily, Sole was right, and none of the present seemed to see beyond their noses, absorbed as they were in their own conversations or activities, like Javi, who wasn't stopping eating. The reappearance of Pet carrying what would constitute the second course of the menu (pheasant, according to someone I heard say), gave me a little relief, because Sole momentarily stopped the increasingly active massage she was giving me. But the relief didn't last long, because another hand that wasn't Sole's, but Marga's, began to give me similar treatment, with even more intensity if possible, without her being the least concerned about Pet's proximity and the possibility of surprising her in the middle of faena. And it's that she adopted such a rhythm that the movement was transmitted to her entire arm.
—What in the world is wrong with you, Marga?—Maite asked, slightly alerted.
—Nothing, mamuchi—I replied without flinching—. I'm scratching my knee.
There were some moments of small confusion when Sole decided to resume her task and bumped into Marge's hand, which she thought was exclusive to her competition. The two maintained a slight riffle and finally seemed to agree and alternate. And I, meanwhile, was trying to maintain the proper composure and attack the piece of pheasant that had been assigned to me with the greatest naturalness.
—Oh my daughter, you're going to skin your knee!—Maite exclaimed in one of the moments when Marge was responsible for masturbating me.
The masturbation was being championed. The one who didn't hold the cock was dedicated to caressing my testicles and between the two they were making it impossible for me to maintain my composure and naturalness.
At a given moment, I couldn't help but let out a contained oath from my throat.
—Is anything happening?—Merche inquired—. Don't you like the pheasant?
—The pheasant is delicious. What's happening is that I've bitten my tongue.
—If you don't like it—you hastened to intervene, Javi—, you can pass it to me. I love it.
That war without quarter that the two sisters had declared against me was turning into a more ferocious battle by the minute. I couldn't remain quiet in my chair and every time they looked at me. Because of passing so well, I was having a pretty bad time. And the case is that both Sole and Marge were eating peacefully while I was struggling to get a piece of meat to my mouth. Not even dared to drink water for fear of spilling all the contents of the glass, despite having such a dry throat that it even hurt to swallow.
—Oh, my lentil!— soon Sole was sliding my cock off, which belonged to me at that moment and suddenly getting up from her seat.
What's going on? Maite asked, interested.
It just fell out a contact lens onto the floor, Sole explained. I think it fell under the table. Please don't move, or you might step on it. I'm going to try to find it.
With great care, Sole got down on her knees and slowly disappeared under the table.
Stay still, please, she insisted again from her hiding spot.
I'll help you look for it, Marga volunteered.
It's not necessary, Sole rejected the offer.
But Marga was already under the table too.
Four eyes see more than two, she pointed out.
And what I soon concluded is that two mouths suck more than one. I didn't know when it was Sole or when it was Marga doing it, but one and the other were swallowing my cock to the root and making real hell with it.
These kids are weird tonight, Merche commented, without her tone of voice giving away whether she suspected what was happening or not.
Or have you bitten your tongue again? Bea asked, as I let out another stifled groan.
No. This time it's my lower lip.
If you don't like the pheasant, Merche insisted, just leave it. Pet can prepare something else for you.
Give it to me, Javi said, who had already had his fill and was passing the time eating crusts of bread.
Pussy, I do like the pheasant! I replied, not sure if I was angry or just a result of the alteration those two suckers were causing in me.
With great effort, I managed to get another piece into my mouth, and that seemed to distract the other diners from their interrupted conversations, which they resumed.
What a yummy thing! I attributed the pheasant with the reason for my exclamation, although it was actually something quite different. blowjob. For me, Sole was the most skilled of the two.
—It's unbeatable!—I kept singing the praises of the roast every time I couldn't repress the effects of those lips and tongues.
—It's not that great, my son—Merche commented, satisfied in the back of her mind that I showed so much enthusiasm for the served meat.
—Of course it is—I affirmed. And, as exactly at that moment my orgasm occurred, the praise succeeded with even more fervor.
Sole was the one who took the bull by the horns and the one who swallowed every last drop of semen that they ripped out of me. Then she passed the baton to Marga, who took care of leaving me completely clean.
—It's done!—I heard Sole exclaim.—I found it!
Marga returned my cock to its case, closing the zipper and quickly retreating to take her seat again. Sole took it a bit more calmly, pretending she was putting on her glasses in the corresponding eye, which was never known if it was the left or right one. And finally everyone could stretch or contract their legs as they pleased, since no one had dared to move even their feet while the anguished search lasted.
—Did you know your cum is of the best quality?—Sole whispered once everything returned to normal.
—How do you know?—I asked in curiosity.
—I've tried a few and yours is the one that tastes the best to me.
—Maybe it was because I still had the flavor of pheasant in my mouth.
—That has nothing to do with it. I can very well distinguish one taste from another.
—If you say so...
A brief pause occurred before I loaded up again.
—you have a tool of great merit.
—What do you mean?
—I mean everything. From top to bottom. I'd say it has the ideal dimensions. If I had to choose one as a prototype, I'd choose yours without hesitation.
—I don't think it's that big of a deal.
—Do you know what's most surprised me?— I have no idea.
— I would say you've been screwing someone recently... maybe Luci.
— Why do you think that?
— Because of the amount.
— What amount?
— It wasn't poor, but I expected a more abundant ejaculation.
— That's because I'm trying to ration myself. You never know what might happen and that's why I like to always have some reserve for cases like the one that just happened.
— Are you trying to take my leg?
— Depending on which leg you're referring to.
— We ended up laughing and diverting the conversation to less hot topics, as a result of which Sole seemed much better to me than at first and even seemed more drinkable than I had deduced at first sight. Her mouth, especially after tasting her skills, caught my attention: her lips were plump and imagining them tracing my cock from start to finish almost made me get hard again.
— We were both fooling around when the most awaited moment arrived. Pet appeared with a huge two-tiered cake, crowned by the 20 lit candles that testified to Bea's 20 years on this earth.
— Everyone stood up and we sang Happy Birthday while Bea struggled to blow out so many candles in one breath, a task she successfully completed and which earned her a closed ovation from all present.
— The cake was so excessive that, despite Javi's bloating, almost half of it remained when everyone was already more than full.
— And the party really got started. Everyone moved to the living room, the music started playing, and the first bottles of whiskey, rum, and gin made their appearance. The floodgates were open for everyone, regardless of age, and only Luci and I settled for soft drinks. The reasons behind Luci's decision I don't know; mine were due to my commitment to Maite. After so much publicity and fame for being a wild one, I didn't want to look bad and knew too well that the alcohol was not my best ally for the occasion.
The first to launch into dancing was Merche, who of course chose my father as her partner. Santi took his good mulatta and I thought it most correct to choose Bea, since it was after all her party. Javi ended up pairing off with Luci and Sole and Marga didn't have any other solution but to console each other for the time being. After that, we would keep switching partners so that no one could complain about being worse attended than another.
—What did you bring with Sole during dinner, eh? —Bea shot at me as soon as possible.
—I don't know what you're talking about —I tried to play dumb.
—How predictable is the lentil trick...!
—Was there a trick?
—More like a trap... I'm saying it because of the final stampede. Do you prefer we call it an overeating binge?
Maite came to get me out of trouble and put me into another perhaps worse one. She had been quietly approaching us and, when she got next to us, proposed the first partner switch that Santi accepted with enthusiasm and which I didn't resist either.
—Do you know how we're going to do it? —Maite approached me while pressing her generous breasts against my chest.
—Are you referring to the demonstration?
—Santi will end up half-drunk and as soon as we go to bed, he'll fall asleep like a log.
—Do you want me to get into your room?
—It won't be necessary. I'll be the one getting into yours, which is right across from it.
—I don't think my father will stay here all night. And if he leaves, I'll have to go with him.
—That's already taken care of. Your father and you will spend the night here... Well, that's a bit relative. What I mean is that you'll be spending the night here.
—but...
Maite silenced me by putting her right index finger in my mouth, gave me a wink from a master coquette, and, pressing herself closer to me, let the music guide our movements...
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