[[[-IF5-P10.TXT-]]]
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Island Fever 5: Family
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 10: "Predecessor"
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-*- Tuesday, March 22, 2016 -*-
-*- Sandvika, Norway -*-
Healthy rays of sunshine spilled in from the majestic and
grand picture window here in our bedroom, and I blinked my
eyes back against the morning light. My body felt invigorated,
fresh and ready, for whatever the day may have in store. I
turned and found Devon asleep next to me on her stomach, the
sheet pulled back, revealing the smooth, luscious expanse of
her back. I smiled and traced my hand down its length, then
finished with a gentle, loving kiss upon her shoulder.
Nothing.
Devon, I had learned over the years, was a deep sleeper.
It was kind of endearing, actually, because I could lightly
hug and kiss on her at random points throughout the overnight
hours without any real fear of waking her up. It was a tad
late in the morning, 9:17am, but I ultimately decided to let
Devon sleep a bit longer and make some coffee for us. But,
where were the other ladies?
"Doughnuts and bagels are here!" a voice called from beyond
the closed door to the bedroom. Then, a very stocky dog with
short, stubby legs pushed open the door to the bedroom with his
snout and greeted me with his big, brown eyes.
"Hello, Shredder," I said quietly to the family's main dog.
He sort of whined, then Trish - the prior voice - appeared
from behind him by sticking her head through the doorway.
"Just got us some breakfast from _Fattigmann_ - the best
doughnuts and coffee in town! Come out and have some!"
Trish then tilted her face to the side and flashed me a
dazzling, picture-perfect smile. "Oh, and happy birthday."
"Thank you. But... where is Jackson? He's not with you."
"Lindsay and Alison are taking care of him," Trish said,
referring to our five-week-old infant son, before smiling yet
again. "Come join us for breakfast." And with that, Trish
disappeared and went bounding down the staircase.
I pulled on a t-shirt and slipped into a comfortable pair
of sweat pants. "Devon," I whispered. "Hey, sleepy girl."
Shredder was up on the bed now, wagging his tail as he stared
down at Devon. She was definitely one of his favorites in
the family. "You awake? Let's get a bite to eat."
Devon's only response was to curl onto her side and pull
the sheet tighter around her waist. Adorable. Well, okay.
Looked like I would be going to breakfast alone. After
running my fingers through my tousled hair to try and corral
it, I exited the bedroom and slowly made my way downstairs.
The first person I saw was Kristanna, who straightened and
turned at the bottom of the steps when our eyes locked. She
flashed me a lazy smile and mused, "Well, look what the cat
dragged out of bed. Good morning, baby."
"Are you calling Trish a cat?"
Kristanna flashed a silly grin. "Well, Trish does seem
to be of the cougarian persuasion."
"Cougarion?" Cougar? Trish was a cougar? I chuckled at
the thought and closed the distance between us, meeting my
precious Kristanna with a quick and simple good morning kiss.
"Happy birthday, Jeremy," she offered, again smiling. How
many times would I hear that phrase today?
"How are you feeling?"
"Better after the homecoming party yesterday," she nodded.
"Actually, a lot better. I really needed something fun like
that." She paused, then added, "Ariel just fed and of course
went right back to sleep, while Kaden is playing with Pamela
and Piper in the dining room. They are all coloring at the
table. I was coming to wake you and Devvy."
"Devon is still sleeping," I frowned. But then, I smiled.
"Ariel in the nursery, or is someone watching after her right
now? And how long have you all been awake?"
"Amy," Kristanna breathed. "Ariel is napping and Amy is
keeping an eye on her for me until I get back. And I've been
up since six this morning. So has Pamela. You and Devvy
were the last two to wake up, Jeremy. Well, I guess Devvy is
still sleeping. She was up really late last night."
Curious, I needed to ask this question after what took
place between them in the kitchen as I watched the events
unfold from the voyeur room last evening. "Any update on
Lindsay and Alison? Did they fess up?"
"Oh, Lindsay did," Kristanna nodded. I was referring, of
course, to not only the passionate round of kissing that the
two sisters shared, but the fact that Lindsay brought Alison
to orgasm with her hand and fingers atop the kitchen counter
last night. Not only was our relationship and marriage truly
polygamous, but now it also had a dash of incest involved.
Great, huh?
"After they went to Alison's room last night, I guess her
and Lindsay stayed up and spoke for about four hours," my
wife continued. "Lindsay says last night sealed it for her.
She loves Alison and wants her in the family."
"Doughnuts are here!" I again heard Trish call out, but
this time it was from a distance. Probably the dining room.
Kristanna smiled. "Bagels too." She loved bagels.
I grinned at the 26-year-old and reached for her hand,
then began guiding her toward the aforementioned dining room.
When we got there, Kaden, my 19-month-old son with Kristanna,
was reaching for one of the white bakery bags on the table.
But Trish snatched it away at the last possible second,
saying, "Sorry, kiddo, but no doughnuts for you until your
Mommy or Daddy get here." Then, she noticed us. "Oh, hello
there. Shall I give Kaden a white doughnut?"
"Make his day," I nodded.
Kaden used both hands and literally tore into the powdered
slice of Heaven. It quickly got all over his face, too.
Then, I felt a little person tugging at my leg. It was Piper,
my 15-month-old daughter with Pamela. She looked up at me
with the cutest, brightest eyes, and I could not help but to
reach down, pick her up, and then hug her to me.
"Hey Piper," Lindsay said, suddenly appearing in the dining
room and literally talking into her ear. When Piper looked
alert and interested, Lindsay went on, "Do you know what today
is? Today is Daddy's birthday. Can you say, happy birthday,
Daddy? Say it. Oh, I know you can say it." Instead, Piper
was quiet, but wide-eyed as she listened intently to Lindsay.
"Can you believe it, Piper? Daddy turns _100_ today."
"HEY, HEY, HEY!" I scolded Lindsay, holding back a laugh at
the same time. "I'm not _100_! I'm 42." Ahh, the difference
in our ages - mine and Lindsay's - again. It never failed to
come up at least a few times per week. "Don't go telling
Piper something like that. She may believe you!"
"Happy birthday, Jeremy," Lindsay mused, before sharing a
slow, sensual kiss with me. "Oh, one for you too, Piper!"
She pecked Piper's lips and stole a kiss from her as well.
This morning ritual - a full round of kisses and/or hugs -
was something that I would never grow tired of.
Pamela, though, was eyeing me intently. "It's so hard to
look at Jeremy's glowing, masculine beauty right now because
I can't see past that rat trap of hair he has atop his head."
"Rat trap!" Kristanna giggled, as several of the others
joined her in unison. "I like that!"
My own eyes wide, I ran a hand through my hair yet again.
"Does it really look that bad?"
"Oh, it does," Pamela told me, being overly dramatic. "It
is bed-head at its absolute worst."
"What a tragedy," Kristanna agreed, pouting. "The level
of empathetic awkwardness I feel looking at that hair makes
my tummy hurt." Umm, really? Kristanna was certainly unique.
She could come up with a memorable one-liner at any moment.
Where they originated from, though, I really had no idea.
"Wait a minute," Trish said, shaking a finger at Pamela.
"Did you just say Jeremy has... glowing, masculine beauty?"
"I did!" Pamela confessed, laughing.
"Why is it so flipping hard to find a chocolate in a
chocolate box?" Scarlett miffed as she too, entered the
dining room, carrying a small container in hand. Less than
two weeks from her due date, Scarlett and that pregnant belly
of hers looked more beautiful to me than ever before. It
really seemed as if Scarlett was ready to pop at any second!
"I ate enough chocolate yesterday at the party to last me
through the end of the year," Trish frowned.
"Just poke your finger through the bottom of each one,
Scar-Scar, until you hit paydirt," Lindsay suggested.
Amy laughed. "Remember last night? At the end of that
chocolate binge we all went on, I got a fortune cookie that
read, _Be careful. You are easily tempted._"
"And thus marks the only accurate fortune cookie ever
seen," Lindsay theorized with a smile.
"Pics or it didn't happen," Pamela said to Amy.
Not a coffee drinker at all, Trish was busy slicing fruit
in the very next room at the kitchen counter. A healthy and
trendy type if there ever was one, Trish was going to make a
morning smoothie for herself.
"You'd think that with all the cool, high-tech gadgets we
have in this house," Trish called out, "we would have one of
those machines where you didn't have to cut the fruit at all."
"You're livin' the struggle, Trish," Pamela deadpanned.
"Don't I know it."
Trish opened the lid for the blender and tossed in the
requisite slices and chunks of fruit. A dash of milk later,
and the blender was spinning. Eventually, Trish poured a
glass for herself and saluted the others. "Cheers."
When Alison entered the dining room, seeming very shy and
timid, all adult eyes immediately drifted to her. Everyone
was well aware of what happened last night between Alison and
her sister, Lindsay. Everyone knew that they had kissed
repeatedly, passionately, and Lindsay brought Alison to
orgasm. And that they later hugged and cuddled in the same
bed like newlyweds and ultimately fell asleep together.
Obviously not wanting her sister to be one bit scared or
intimidated around us, Lindsay helped ease her anxiety by
stepping forward and kissing Alison flush on the lips.
Trish bit her finger and smiled at the exchange, while Pamela
let out an audible gasp. When Lindsay slipped her tongue
into Alison's mouth and began exploring, Kristanna turned
toward me and had the biggest, healthiest grin.
"Doughnuts?" Lindsay asked Alison once their kiss was done.
"Yeah," she simply responded, her eyes glazed over.
Being bold myself, I moved toward Alison and kissed the
side of her head while gently patting that perfect, little
ass of hers through the denim jeans she wore. Oh, it was
tight as a drum, and felt so damn good under my touch. Alison
held in a breath, her mouth agape as she stared at Lindsay
with wide eyes in the process, then yelped and jumped when I
gave that ass a swat - a little love tap - with an open palm.
Alison's eyes flashed up to meet mine just for a moment.
She blushed crimson, instantly, and then lowered her eyes. I
vividly recalled Alison's discussion with Lindsay last evening
where she conveyed her little punishment fantasy that involved
me putting her over my knee and spanking her. Thus, the swat
on her ass. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come?
"Let's get you something to eat," Trish said to Alison,
mentally disheveled now, wrapping an arm around her shoulder
and guiding her to the nearby table.
"Have some hjortetakks!" Kristanna chirped.
"Huh?" Alison returned.
"Don't mind Krissy," Pamela advised her. "That's Norwegian
for doughnuts. She loves confusing others with her language."
"They are called futimonbuckle, too!" Kristanna offered.
"Hush, you!" Pamela sniped at her.
"I brought home all sorts of doughnuts, and even some
bagels for Krissy if you like them instead," Trish said to
Alison. "Vanilla and maple glaze, some doughnut holes,
buttermilk bars and a few other types. Whatever you want."
Everything looked appetizing to me, but I ultimately opted
for two doughnuts which oozed with a filling of whole, ripe
strawberries from sweet, biscuit-like shells. That, along
with the fresh coffee Trish also brought home, hit the spot.
"You really need to do something about that hair," Pamela
later suggested to me.
Kristanna nodded, clearly in agreement with her on this.
"Your hair has its own gravitational pull today."
"I could feel its aura when I was down here, Jeremy, and
you were still in bed," Amy chimed in.
Scarlett was giggling. "Looks like he stuck his finger in
a light socket about 20 or 25 times over."
"Oh, stop it," I chided them, finally giving in to the
playful teasing. "Fine. I'll go comb my hair."
Before I left the dining room, however, I grabbed two more
doughnuts and a cup of coffee. If Devon were finally awake,
or she would wake up soon, she would certainly appreciate me
bringing them to her. I could never exclude her from this.
Along the way to the bedroom, though, I felt greedy,
tempted to devour one of the croissant-style doughnuts myself.
Buttery soft and airy, I knew the doughnut would practically
pop as I bit into it, and then collapse into a delectable
half-moon just halfway through. But I resisted, constantly
reminding myself over and over that these were for Devon -
and not me. It was a tough, rugged struggle, indeed.
When I returned to the bedroom, Devon was still sprawled
out across the mattress, naturally, and asleep. She aided
Kristanna throughout the overnight hours when both Kaden and
Ariel were awake, each throwing a massive fit, while I tended
to Jackson with Trish, and later Dani Grace with Amy. That,
plus the fact that Devon had gone to bed late anyway, meant
that she had every right to still be sleeping this morning.
I leaned over and snuggled Devon close to me, then placed
kisses along her shoulder and neck. When she let out a deep,
groggy moan and rustled, I smiled at her and whispered, "Hey,
Devon. I brought you doughnuts and coffee. Wake up, sweetie."
But I was not going to press her and force the issue. So,
I simply set the cup of coffee and both doughnuts upon the
nightstand next to the bed. They would be there whenever she
finally woke up. Although, Devon hated her coffee cold.
"Stay away from those doughnuts," I warned Shredder,
pointing a menacing finger at him as he sat at my feet.
Shredder seemed to get the message, then I turned and began
peeling off my clothes. Instead of combing my hair, I had
decided to just get my daily shower out of the way. My hair,
tragic as it may be, would be taken care of in the process.
As the hot water fell in cascades across my skin moments
later in the adjacent washroom and shower, I closed my eyes
and sighed contently. Indeed, today was my 42nd birthday.
There had been so many twists and turns throughout my life
since I was born on March 22, 1974 - highs and lows, joy,
despair, happiness, anger, frustration, even heartbreak -
but I would not change any of it. Why? The road, the path
I had taken in life, as rocky and as turbulent as it had
been at times, ultimately led me to where I am today.
Married to seven gorgeous, alluring women, with a little
forbidden fruit girlfriend, so to speak, on the side. Oh, I
had plans for Alison, and they were multiplying daily. But
I also had six precious children, with a seventh due very
soon in Scarlett's son-to-be, Dylan. What more could life
provide me? What more could I possibly want, or even need?
Each year, my birthday presented a unique and interesting
challenge to the ladies. I had specifically told them, time
and time again, that I did not want them to break the bank
in purchasing the _perfect gift_ for me. Because quite
honestly, I was the type of person that if I ever wanted
anything, I simply went out and bought it myself. It was
tough to get something for me as a gift that I would find
useful or helpful because, chances are, I already had it.
The thought counted, of course, but there was no need to
simply waste money by literally tossing it down the drain.
Plus, I was not much of a material person. I had my fun
gadgets and toys, yes, but I did not thrive on them. I would
tell the ladies every year to keep any gifts for me simple
and unique. There was no need to spend a fortune on me.
Last year, for example, the best gift I got - by far - was
from Trish. Somehow, she had managed to find every first-run,
original broadcast of every game - regular season, playoffs
and Super Bowl included - of the 1981 Cincinnati Bengals, and
gift them for me in a Blu-Ray DVD boxset. Originally from
Cincinnati and an avid sports fan, I had followed the Bengals
for my entire life. Although they lost the Super Bowl that
season to San Francisco, getting to see every play from every
game - at a time when I was only seven - was quite rewarding.
But what about this year? What gift would turn out to be
my favorite? Which wife would give it to me? There were
lots of possibilities, needless to say. But at the moment,
if I had any say in the matter, I believe the best present
that I could possibly receive would be little Alison's ass
served up on a platter, ready for me to sink into, and enjoy.
I mean, why not? That was definitely what I desired most.
In the shower, within my mind's eye, I began to picture a
fantasy scenario with Alison unfolding.
"Over my lap, Alison. Now."
The lovely, naked 19-year-old obeyed, and I watched with
great satisfaction as her harp strung, golden hair cascaded
down around her face as she got into position and, even
better, her perfect ass, all smooth and tight, was offered up
to me. I rearranged her hair to fall over her neck, so that
she and I could have eye contact when I wanted it.
"You are going to get a good, long spanking now, Alison,"
I warned her, losing myself in the dream sequence taking
place within my imagination. "Much like your sister, God
only knows that you deserve it." Whimpering under my control,
Alison nodded her head as I gently tapped her backside with
my right hand. "Prepare yourself, Alison."
As Alison took a deep, gasping breath, I began to spank
her with an open palm. Not hard at first, but slowly. The
sound of hand-slapping-ass reverberated throughout the room
as her lesson on how important it was to please me continued.
Right cheek, left cheek, middle, right thigh, left thigh. I
made sure to pepper her all over.
As I thought may be the case, Alison was wincing and
crying out a little by the end of those very first five. I
could also feel her pussy's wetness dripping onto my thigh.
I then decided to administer five sets of five swats each,
using the same cadence and locations from the initial group.
In the fourth round, Alison started to struggle, and I had
to hold her down with my left hand. My cock, tucked away in
my shorts, was hard, straining against her belly as watching
Alison take her punishment like a good girl truly aroused me.
By the middle of the fifth and final set of five, Alison
was still struggling, but also crying out, full throat. Her
ass was blazing red; it was, quite simply, on fire. But, this
was what she wanted, right? Alison wanted me to spank her.
When the final set was done, I brought my hand to Alison's
quivering backside and caressed it gently. She was already a
massive train wreck, having took 30 heavy-handed blows from me.
Her body was literally vibrating and convulsing under my touch.
"We're just getting started, Alison," I told her.
"Oh, God... oh, please..."
Still lost in my mental reverie as I took the shower, the
scene transitioned within my mind and I was behind Alison on
the bed. I lifted her left leg, so that I could put the head
of my cock at the entrance to her pussy. Then I used my
opposite hand to gently grasp her throat, underneath her chin,
demonstrating to her that all of the control belonged to me.
I squeezed, but not hard at all. Just enough to remind her.
I started thrusting into Alison in slow, gentle strokes.
"Lick that pussy, Alison."
Also with us on the bed was Lindsay, who was reclining
back, her trim, slender legs widespread and her sweet pussy
no more than six inches from her sister's face. Alison
nodded, then began making little sounds of pure submission
as she did her best to give Lindsay pleasure with her lips
and tongue. It proved difficult, though, because now I was
having my way with Alison, taking her fast and furious, my
hips slamming violently against her with every new stroke.
Still, I expected Alison to orally service her sister.
Lindsay was all smiles, her beautiful face beaming with
love, as I continued to push in and out of Alison even more
vigorously. Alison planted a series of desperate kisses and
sweeping licks upon Lindsay's pussy, ready for her climax.
I plowed my way into Alison one final time and we came
simultaneously, gasping and grunting in sheer ecstasy, knit
together with Lindsay in the writhing mass of our loving,
yet highly unconventional family.
In the shower, back in reality, my mind and its vivid
imagination had literally detached itself from the rest of
my body. It was quickly brought back, however, when I felt
a pair of soft hands on me from behind within the spacious
shower stall, accompanied by a luscious, friendly giggle.
"God, Jeremy!" Devon gasped at me, laughing, her eyes
drifting down toward my hard, burgeoning cock. "Rubbing
one out in the shower, huh? You still find it necessary
to whack off when you have eight women who would be more
than happy to do it for you?"
"I... uhh..." Devon had definitely caught me off-guard,
directly in the middle of my daydream involving Lindsay and
Alison. My next order of business was going to be taking
Alison in the ass, in that dream, but reality seemed much
more enticing at the moment. After all, reality was real.
Obviously awake and well alert, Devon was completely and
gloriously nude as she stood before me in the steamy shower.
I wondered whether or not she had noticed the coffee and
doughnuts that I left for her next to the bed. Regardless,
Devon was still giggling, finding it quite humorous that she
had caught me red-handed (or full-handed) in the shower.
"Were you thinking about something?" she asked, curious.
"Doing something to one of us? Maybe two of us? Because my
God, Jeremy, you really seemed to be into it."
Devon was the type of woman that any normal man would want
to cuddle up with and spend the rest of his life with. There
was nothing more wholesome and amazing than Devon's pretty
face, inquisitive blue eyes and gorgeous smile. She was damn
near impossible to resist, with a body that looked like it
was designed by the best engineers in the world. Devon was
the prototypical all-American blonde cheerleader that nearly
all of us have fantasized about at one point or another.
Everything about her was amplified ten times over now, too,
because she was soaked, glistening with water in the shower.
And, thanks to my imagination regarding Lindsay and Alison,
I was really riled up at the moment. Devon, in fact, caught
me at the perfect time. For her, yes, and especially me.
"On your knees," I told Devon in a strict, dominant tone,
that mindset carrying over from my prior daydream. With pure
submissive tendencies of her own, Devon dropped to my feet
without a second thought - or any hesitation whatsoever.
Instinctively, she placed both hands together behind her
back. Doing so showcased the quickening rise and fall of her
lovely breasts and the slight flinch of her stomach as her
nerves began to react to the situation.
"What were you thinking about, Jeremy?" she timidly asked
yet again, clearly wanting an answer. "Was it Alison?"
"Open," was all I told Devon in response, my cock, thick
and hard, jutting toward her ripe, luscious mouth. I combed
my fingers throughout her luxurious tumble of free-flowing
hair and then fisted it, all the while brushing the swollen
head of my erection back and forth across her lips.
Devon trailed her hands up my thighs and gripped the base
of my shaft with her right while fondling my testicles,
already tight and full of need, with her left. She opened
wide and engulfed the length of my shaft, her tongue swishing
about, then began bobbing with confidence and rhythm.
"Good girl," I breathed. "Just like that."
When I glanced down at Devon's face, I almost came right
then and there. She looked so precious taking my cock, her
mouth stretched and agape, those eyes sparkling with desire.
The air was electric between us. Devon, aroused as well,
hastened the slide of her mouth and pumping hand.
I audibly groaned, my fist tightening in her hair. "This
is what you wanted, yes? Just yesterday, Devon, you were
telling me that you and I needed to hook up together. You
were even whining a bit, saying it had been too long."
She pulled her hungry mouth from my cock only long enough
to pant, "Yes! Yes, Jeremy!"
"Women who whine need to have their mouths stuffed," I told
her teasingly, sharing a very lewd viewpoint.
Then she was on me again, sucking, licking and pumping my
shaft with her hand.
"Good girl," I praised, the dominant side of me quite
pleased with her efforts. Devon always had been truly quite
ravenous when it came to sucking cock. "Open your mouth.
Relax your throat. I am going to fuck you now, Devon, and
you are going to swallow every last drop. Do you understand?"
One hand on her head and the other cupping underneath her
jaw, I began to thrust. Short and shallow jabs at first,
Devon was quick to adjust to the newfound tempo. She gasped
and choked and I thrusted into her a little deeper, a little
harder, extracting what pleasure I could from her.
Devon's eyes watered as I jammed myself so far into her
mouth that I butted up against the back of her throat. She
gagged again, but I did not care. Devon liked this; she
could handle it without any serious issue. I simply thrust
in deep again, growling long and low, her hands clutching and
rubbing at my pumping hips.
Abruptly, I stopped. I caught my own breath and pulled
almost entirely out of her mouth. Only the very tip of my
erection remained at her lips. Devon opened her mouth wide,
frantic with hunger as I shot thick jets of semen over her
tongue and into her throat. I yanked her head back with
force, full of fierce pleasure and pride, so I could watch
as she swallowed me, every drop, exactly as I told her.
Was there a better way to start off my birthday?
When I released my conqueror's hold on her face and hair,
Devon actually fell over to her hands and knees before me,
gasping wildly, trying to regain her breath. Still, she
reached up with her right hand and cupped my testicles,
twiddling away on them, wanting to give me more pleasure.
When Devon looked up at me, her eyes were blurred out from
all the excess moisture, but she did not blink or flinch.
I gathered my senses in the aftermath of orgasm and gently
stroked her hair. Devon was my wife; she was beautiful, and I
loved her with all of my heart. She was no less important or
vital to my happiness and the success of our unique marriage
than any of the other women in our life. Even as the water
continued to rain down on us from above in the shower, I
dropped to one knee and kissed her cheek.
"To answer your question," I quietly said, "yes, I was
thinking about Alison when you walked in on me, and caught
me, my hands... full." I could have told Devon that I was
fantasizing about her, but why lie? I had never lied to any
of my seven wives and found no need to start now.
"When are you getting back with Alison and resuming what
you and her started on your wedding night with Scarlett?"
"I don't know, but hopefully soon," I answered, before
letting loose with a knowing smile. "You want to be with
Alison too, don't you?" When Devon nodded her head, I did
the same. "You've never been able to resist a pretty girl,
have you? I bet Alison drives you crazy."
"She does," Devon admitted.
* * *
At ten minutes after three o'clock that afternoon, I sat
with Kristanna, Devon, Trish, Lindsay, Amy, Scarlett and
Alison, with five of the six kids also in close proximity, on
the floor of our spacious recreation room on the lower level
of the mansion. We were surrounded by a variety of cookies,
brownies, empty ice cream bowls (with a fully-stocked freezer
conveniently nearby) and an array of awesome candy toppings.
There was a pitcher of iced tea and, of course, Trish's
favorite, cherry _Kool-Aid_.
All of us were waiting.
For Pamela.
Who we often waited for, because she was always late.
"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Trish said with
trepidation, eyeing a small tray of scrumptious chocolate
chip cookies that seemingly had her name on them. "After
all those treats we had yesterday... more today?"
Lindsay patted her wife on the wrist sympathetically.
"Oh, don't worry about it, Trish. Indulge yourself."
"Just think," Scarlett said with a grin, unafraid to chew
on and munch down a brownie at the same time. "In just six
days, it will be Devon's birthday. We get to have another
round of Amy's dessert and chocolate paradise next week, too!"
"OH MY GOD!" Trish huffed at the mere thought. "More
chocolate! I'll spend the entire month of April killing
myself in the gym, trying to atone for my chocolate sins."
Of course, Trish's resolve crumbled. She easily gave into
temptation, popping one of those cookies while the others
looked at her and snickered in unison.
Of course, they were just as guilty as she was.
And then, like the Tasmanian Devil from the cartoons, a
blur of twirling blonde hair burst into the recreation room
and came to a sudden stop just before us. Pamela, with
Piper hitched in her arm, was breathless. "Sorry for being
late, but I could not help it. Traffic was terrible."
Amy shook her head. "Traffic is no excuse for being late.
Still, we love you anyway."
Pamela grinned and set Piper down, then easily slid under
Kristanna's outstretched arm and found a comfortable, cozy
position next to her on the floor. At the same time, Piper
came rumbling over to me for a spirited hug.
Pamela's brown eyes were bubbling over with excitement as
she surveyed everyone in the room. "So, let's get this
birthday party started, shall we?"
"Where exactly did you go on your errand?" I asked Pamela.
Around 12:30pm, Pamela insisted that she had to leave with
Piper for about two hours, but would not tell me why. I
thought it may have something to do with my birthday, but
something seemed fishy and out of place here. That thought
was multiplied as when she sat down next to Kristanna mere
seconds ago, Kristanna whispered something into her ear, and
Pamela nodded her head quite vigorously. All the while,
both ladies were looking squarely at me.
Kristanna and Pamela, like usual, were up to something.
They were keeping a secret, perhaps hiding something from me.
I would learn what it was eventually.
"I just had a few things to take care of," Pamela told me,
her voice conveying pure innocence. "As I said, sorry I was
late getting back. But I'm here now."
Trish's own eyes were wide and bulging as Amy wheeled the
triple-layered, red velvet birthday cake into the recreation
room. "I'll be in the gym working these calories off for
the rest of the year," Trish said in defeat.
"How in the world did you get 100 candles onto that cake?"
Lindsay screeched at Amy, which caused several of the others
to laugh. Meanwhile, I found no humor in it.
"I'm 42, Lindsay. Not 100."
"No, no," Kristanna said to Kaden, holding him back. "No
cake for you yet, wild man. Daddy needs to make a wish and
blow out the candles first."
Kaden struggled and tried to break free of his mother's
grasp, desperately wanting to sample some cake, so Pamela
lent Kristanna support by curling an arm around him from
behind. "You're gonna get burned by the candles if you get
too close, Kaden," she advised him. "You don't want to get
burned, do you? It will hurt. A LOT." Of course, Kaden
did not see things that way. Upset, he threw a tantrum.
After making my wish (40 more years with all of these
women together in my life) and blowing out the candles, I
began to open birthday presents from the various ladies.
Fortunately, they heeded my advice, having not broken the
bank in buying me anything overly expensive. At the same
time, everyone enjoyed a slice or two of cake (Kaden too).
Kristanna got me a hand-made oil portrait of her and all
of my other wives, sitting and smiling together as a group,
looking pure and wholesome. Alison was missing from it, but
I figured the painting was ordered and then made well before
it was decided that she would join our family. Still, I
loved the portrait. It was beautiful, and would look nice on
the wall in my private office.
One of several thoughtful gifts from Devon was an exquisite
hand-made model of the U.S. space shuttle Ares V which
dismantled into six tequila shot glasses, a measure, side
burners for salt cellars, and a base for lime wedges. A very
unique way to drink, though I did not favor alcohol at all.
Still, it would make a nice ornament for my desk.
Forever on her health kick, Trish got me a portable air
purifier and said it was to be used in the voyeur room.
There were no windows in the voyeur room for ventilation, and
Trish seemed certain that setting this device there would do
nothing but good. She was right, of course.
Scarlett purchased, among other things, a _Tag Heuer_ dive
watch made of stainless steel as a gift for me. This was
actually a wonderful present, as my previous dive watch was
damaged during our trip to the island last year. In a few
months, when the weather warmed up, I had every intention of
going scuba diving off the coast of Norway - something I had
yet to do - with my two trusty sidekicks, Kristanna and Devon.
They were certified divers and, just like me, loved the ocean.
As for the watch itself, it looked wonderful on my wrist.
Lindsay and Alison collaborated together and came up with
a great gift for not only me, but a guest of mine as well -
_fighter pilot for a day_. There was an aviation school in
Oslo that specialized in allowing normal civilians, such as
myself, to take control of an authentic military grade
aircraft and actually fly it (with the help of a skilled
instructor) and engage in simulated firefights with another
jet in the skies over the North Sea just off the coast. What
normal man would not jump at the chance to participate in
flying combat maneuvers that were guaranteed to be safe?
The particular aircraft that I would get to control? The
_SIAI Marchetti SF-260_. The guest that I should invite
along, at least according to Lindsay and Alison? Mike, my
good friend and personal pilot for our family jetliner. Mike
was an ex-fighter pilot in the U.S. Air Force during the Gulf
War and had been itching to get back behind the controls of a
military combat plane in recent years and feel that rush one
more time. Inviting him along was an excellent idea, indeed,
and something I planned on doing next time he and I spoke.
Mike would fly another aircraft opposite of mine, and we
would engage in simulated dog fights high above the ocean.
I looked forward to locking onto his plane with my sights,
tagging him, and sending him to the doldrums of defeat!
Once the gift giving portion of the birthday party was
complete (or at least I thought it was), Pamela stepped to
the center of the room and called for everyone's attention.
Her focus, however, was fixated purely on me.
"Jeremy, I speak for everyone in this room when I say that,
without a doubt, you are the most wonderful man in the whole,
wide world," Pamela began. "But sometimes, we forget to tell
you just how much we all appreciate you, and how much we love
you. We forget to show you. You do everything for us, yet
never ask for anything in return. That is amazing."
"Just yesterday, for example, you vacuumed out and washed
Trish's car. Not because she asked you, but because you felt
it needed to be done. You noticed Scarlett was having a bad
go of it earlier - she is nine months pregnant - so you offered
to give her a back and foot massage. Kristanna has had a very
rough stretch here lately, too. She was upset during lunch,
crying, worrying about Ariel. Yet you held Kristanna's hand,
kissed it repeatedly, and promised everything would be okay.
Like always, you were able to convince her."
"Most of us are tired, busy, dealing with all of the kids.
Yet you are always there, asking what you can do to help.
Volunteering to take away the burden, so we can relax and
catch our breath for awhile. Yet the heaviest burden of all
is on you. You are the one with six children, not us. You
put more on yourself in order to make our lives easier, when
it should be the other way around. Your love for us, your
dedication, comes through every single day. Your children -
Kaden, Piper, Dani Grace, Jackson, Kaylee, Ariel, even Dylan
who isn't born yet - are lucky to have you as their father.
In fact, there isn't a better father for them out there."
"You always open the door for us - your wives - like a
true gentleman," Amy offered, her smile golden.
"You're the most honest and down-to-Earth person I've ever
met," Devon said. "And I find that incredibly sexy about you."
"You go out of your way, Jeremy, to make sure that everyone
around you feels loved and as comfortable as possible."
Trish nodded at Scarlett, agreeing with her, before turning
toward me. "You never talk down to servers, bartenders or
even the baggers at the grocery store. You treat everyone you
come across, Jeremy, as you'd like them to treat you."
Kristanna smiled. "You compliment all of us on a daily
basis. You kiss us nonstop and make us feel warm, special."
"You kiss away our tears, too," Pamela grinned.
"You are a wonderful father for our children," Lindsay
chimed in. "You love each of them to no end and will give
good example to them so that they will grow up and become
good people. I am so honored to be your wife. We all are."
"Love is too simple, too common of a word to describe our
feelings for you," Amy explained. "We love you, Jeremy, but
the thought and feeling runs so much deeper than that. So
much stronger, and so much more intense."
"We ADORE you," Scarlett insisted.
"I adore you," Alison confessed to me, smiling shyly.
"Happy birthday, Jeremy," Trish swooned.
"Happy birthday," Kristanna nodded.
"Happy birthday," Devon, Lindsay, Amy, Scarlett and Alison
all said in exact unison. Wow...
"So what we wanted to do, Jeremy," Pamela commented, "was
to come up with something - a present - that would make you
feel as happy as you make us feel on a daily basis." Pamela
paused, gauging my reaction, then smiled again. "No, we did
not spend extravagant amounts of money on a gift for you.
The perfect gift for you, in fact, required little expense."
She chuckled outwardly. "And before you get your hopes up,
no, it is nothing sexual. No fantasy dress-up and roleplay
games, like last year's birthday."
"Although, we did consider it," Lindsay admitted, giggling.
"Trust me, Alison would look SUPER HOT in one of my naughty,
little cheerleader uniforms. I would still be the captain of
the Suck Squad, but Ali could be the HEAD assistant!"
With those words, Alison was blushing a crimson red. And
my cock was stirring about within my trousers. Go figure.
"I know you're curious about that errand I had to run
earlier," Pamela said, my interest level suddenly piqued.
So, the mysterious trip did have something to do with my
birthday after all. "Piper and I went to Gardermoen," she
added, referring to the international airport in downtown
Oslo. "We had to pick up a very special guest and then
brought him home with us." When Pamela motioned at something
beyond my shoulder, I turned, and my breath stalled.
It was my father. He was here!
Suddenly, five camera phones were pointed at me from the
various ladies and recording away as I rushed over to my
77-year-old father and gave him a heavy, heartfelt embrace.
Holy Hell, Dad was here! How was that even possible? This
was indeed a surprise, a shocking one at that, but what
better way to top off my birthday than a visit from my father?
Dad, who I had not seen since my brother Steve's liver
transplant in Cincinnati late last year, was supposed to be
here for my wedding with Scarlett that took place nine days
ago. But he was ill at the time and, coupled with the fact he
lived in California, we did not think it would be wise for him,
at his age, to travel on a 5,500 mile airline flight to Norway.
So we canceled his trip because of his illness, though he did
watch the wedding on a live video feed over the Internet.
I had secretly fretted in the days since about how many more
opportunities I would actually get to spend time with my
father. Honestly, that fear had been going on for a decade
now. Would I ever see him again? Was this it? That was a
reoccurring thought that played over and over in my mind every
time he and I had gotten to spend any amount of time together
in the recent past. My wedding with Scarlett was a lost
opportunity for me to see my father... until now.
"That's your grandpa!" Kristanna said to Kaden, a camera
phone in one hand, her other arm wrapped around our son, with
tears just running down her face. Likewise, several - if not
all - of the other ladies were becoming a little emotional at
the sight of this unexpected reunion. "Kaden, that's Daddy's
Daddy! Your grandpa! Just like Grandpa Kristoff is my Daddy,
Grandpa Dale is Daddy's Daddy. Go give him a hug."
When Kaden walked over, I picked him up and us three men
shared a triple-decker hug. Dad may have been 77, but he
looked really good. He was healthy, walking several miles
each day along the California coastline while enjoying his
retirement. Best of all, he said that the flu bug which hit
him so hard for three weeks straight was now all but gone.
Apparently, Kristanna and Pamela were the two that made
this reunion possible. After failing to attend my wedding
with Scarlett, Kristanna called my father a few days ago and
asked if he was feeling any better. When he said he was,
Kristanna suggested that he fly to Norway and surprise me on
my birthday. "It would be the best gift ever for Jeremy,"
she explained to him. Dad needed no further coaxing. Pamela
put together all of the travel arrangements for him.
So much of how I see the world and treat others has to do
with my father and the way he raised me. A tireless depot
manager for an automobile parts distribution warehouse for
45 years, I learned the value of hard work and patience from
Dad. He was always there when I was growing up, teaching me
to love the outdoors (hiking was and still remains his
favorite past-time), movies (anything with Charles Bronson in
it was must-see for him), music (Little Richard was solid gold
in his eyes) and the beach. How many times had I gone scuba
diving and snorkeling with him? Dad loved to talk to strangers
and learn about their lives. He loved history and politics,
had a massive rock collection, and a strange sense of humor.
Trust me, it was _very_ strange.
And Dad was the only person from my immediate family who
had fully accepted and embraced the life that I had chosen
to lead. Instead of questioning my reason for having seven
wives, perhaps criticizing it, Dad was totally cool with it
(unlike my mother, my sister (Di) and oldest brother (Dan)).
Dad always had been supportive of me and whatever decisions
I made. He trusted my judgment and had told me, time and time
again, that if it made me happy, go for it. And Dad meant it
too, because every time he interacted with each of my wives -
his daughter-in-laws - he was warm and gracious toward them.
Dad knew how happy all of them, as a group, made me, and he
treated them with the respect and dignity that they deserved.
Dad did not even have any objections to the possibility of
Alison joining our family as a bona-fide sister wife as well.
"Just don't tell too many people about it," was his wise
suggestion. "Especially your mother, Di or Dan."
Dad was here because it was my birthday, yes, but one of
the very first orders of business for him was to introduce
himself to his three newest grandchildren - Jackson, Kaylee
and Ariel. He was actually here this past August following
Dani Grace's birth to meet her, but had not been back since.
When Dad picked Jackson up and bounced him in his arms for
the first time, Trish and I explained that our precious son
had been diagnosed with torticollis, a muscular abnormality in
his neck and shoulder that caused his head to tilt slightly
to one side. Jackson was undergoing treatment, we said, and
with each new trip to the chiropractor, Trish and I hoped it
would be his last. Jackson was getting close to being cured.
Lindsay was all smiles as Dad cradled Kaylee and told him
how special, and how wonderful, of a daughter she was to us.
Lindsay even told him that I once said if I could be just
half the father he was, all of my children would grow up
happy and right, and be pointed in the right direction.
Lindsay also spoke briefly about her own father, who was no
longer alive, and how much she missed him.
But Dad seemed to be on a whole different plateau when he
was introduced to Ariel for the first time. Just seven days
old, yet four born weeks premature, Ariel was so very small
and fragile, and Dad took great care in handling her. To
him, Ariel was a miracle baby. A gift from God. She was
actually awake and responded quite favorably to him!
When Kristanna handed Dad a bottle of infant formula and
suggested he feed his youngest granddaughter, who was hungry,
I had never seen such a smile from him. He was glowing; on
cloud nine. It was a memory that I would cherish forever.
"Three generations of awesome!" Kristanna proclaimed,
looking at my father and yours truly, as well as Ariel.
"I'm so happy you're here to visit Jeremy!" Lindsay mewed,
overcome with raw, positive emotion.
Best of all, Dad said he had no set timetable to return
home to California. His live-in girlfriend, Dawn, was still
in Los Angeles, working, but Dad was quite adamant about
staying here long enough to at least witness the birth of
Scarlett's child, Dylan, who was due in less than two weeks.
I told Dad that he could stay as long as he wanted. If
it was up to me, that would be forever.
* * *
"Can you embarrass me any more tonight, Dad?"
That was the question I asked him at the dinner table
several hours later, a smile upon my face, after he conveyed
the story of how my name - Jeremy - was given to me.
Dad told my wives and Alison that he originally wanted to
name me Jeremiah (yes, after the bullfrog). In the 1970's,
there was a popular song by the musical group Three Dog Night
called "Joy To The World". Its opening lyrics consisted of
_Jeremiah was a bullfrog / Was a good friend of mine_. Dad
loved that song, apparently, and wanted to name me Jeremiah.
"He does sort of look like a bullfrog," Kristanna teased
me, giggling.
My mother wanted to name me Scott, or David, but Dad was
steadfast in wanting me, for all intents and purposes, to be
associated with a bullfrog for the rest of my life. Sensing
that this may not be such a good thing, Mom came to a
compromise with him, and they settled on the name _Jeremy_.
"Ribbit! Ribbit!" Kristanna continued to chide me.
Moments earlier, Dad explained how I used to be fascinated
with the pots and pans in the kitchen. One of my nicknames
as a toddler was Pots Mike (Michael was my middle name), and
the family room, where I often played, was called Pots Town.
And my favorite companion as a baby and toddler, he told
everyone, was a little rubber figure of a man named Gucker.
My God, I had not heard that name in at least 35 years. I
used to carry Gucker everywhere I went, he said, and would
cry and scream at night if he was not with me in bed.
"Awwwww, Gucker!" Pamela laughed. "How sweet!"
"We need to find Jeremy a Gucker and get it for him next
year on his birthday!" Lindsay chortled.
"And Jeremy was in love with Amber [Last Name] when he
was in grade school, a girl who lived two doors down the
street," Dad continued, only embarrassing me more. God,
Amber [Last Name]? Talk about another blast from the past
that I had all but forgotten about! "When he was six, he
asked Amber if she would marry him when they both grew up.
She said yes, but only if he had babies with her."
Kristanna had a scowl, albeit a playful one, as she glared
at me in mock displeasure. "Amber, huh? Your first love,
Jeremy?" She began giggling. "If this Amber chick ever
comes within a hundred mile radius of you, she'll regret it!"
The 26-year-old nodded her head and implored sternly, but
with a grin, "The E-K - the Evil Kristanna - will reappear,
and I'll terminate her ass!"
"She moved away when I was eight," I recalled. "Haven't
seen Amber since. You have nothing to worry about, Krissy."
Over a decadent birthday dinner consisting of grilled pork
tenderloin, accompanied by carrots, butter and fresh dill,
sauteed spinach and pesto filled zucchini, not to mention
potatoes with cream and cheese, we all stayed at the dining
room table until 10:00pm that evening and simply talked. Dad
shared story after humiliating story from my childhood, many
of which I had forgotten, but some I never even knew about.
Oh, and he told jokes. Lots and lots of bad jokes.
"Jeremy once played one of the Three Wise Men in a nursery
school play," was another memory Dad shared with the group.
"He and his two partners had to walk around the stage in a
circle before giving the gifts to Mary and Joseph, who were in
the middle. As Jeremy walked around, he suddenly stopped, and
ripped open the present himself. Then he threw it down and
had a temper tantrum, because nothing but paper was in it."
"When Jeremy was in first or second grade, he came home one
day from school and told his mother and I that he had learned
all about testicles in class. We were concerned, obviously,
and asked exactly what he meant. Jeremy said he learned that
an octopus has eight of them. He meant tentacles, obviously."
Dad clearly had a very long and taxing past 24 hours,
flying commercial from Los Angeles to New York, then to
Copenhagen and finally Oslo, with layovers mixed inbetween.
I was upset that Pamela just did not have Mike and his crew go
pick Dad up in Los Angeles on the family jetliner, and bring
him here in style. He would definitely return home on it.
But by 10:00pm, Dad was pretty much done for the night. I
escorted him to one of the many luxurious guest suites located
in our mansion which would, in future years, serve as private
bedrooms for each of the kids as they grew up and matured. We
shared a few private words and I reiterated how overjoyed I
was that he had actually decided to travel here to be with me.
With us - me, his seven daughter-in-laws and six grandchildren.
This was, by far, the best birthday present that I could have
possibly received. And I owed it to Kristanna and Pamela.
* * *
As for my wives and Alison, I originally planned to spend
this night alone with Scarlett. She and I were going to make
amends for the after-wedding party for two that never really
happened, but Scarlett was feeling tired and sluggish herself,
and opted to wait until another night. Poor Scarlett; she had
been through a very rough pregnancy and would be so glad once
our son, Dylan, was finally born. Two weeks, give or take?
I strongly considered pulling Alison to the side and asking
her if she would like to explore that spanking fantasy of hers
that she conveyed to Lindsay last evening about me. Either
that, or perhaps Alison could suck my cock for an hour or two?
An ultra slow, generous blowjob, where Alison could learn and
then practice on those all-important deep throating skills.
Hell, I had no qualms with Lindsay watching us, or joining in.
I could cum over their smiling, dazzling faces simultaneously!
But, Alison opted to retire and go to bed early that night
herself. Oh well. I figured I would get my chance with her
soon enough. And I, needless to say, could not wait.
<<<- End of Chapter 10 ->>>
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"Island Fever 5: Family"
(c) 2016 JeremyDCP
- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
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