Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Partying Big
Part: 3 of 5
Universe: Partying Big
Summary: A female co-worker asks a shy guy to help keep her from being ragged
on at a family function -- but it turns out that there's a little more to
it...

Keywords: MF MFF FF oral ws

Chapter 3


	Despite Cassandra's efforts, I really didn't feel clean until I'd
showered; after more or less presiding at the ladies' brunch, I excused myself
and took one.  By the time I was out and dry, most of the women had headed
back off to Mimi's parents' place to start on preparations for day two of the
barbeque.

	Mimi took me there and plopped me on the couch in front of the TV,
where the baseball game was on, with another Bloody Mary.  Mimi's dad looked
up and smiled tolerantly, "You had quite a bit yesterday."

	"The girls kept plying me with liquor," I replied.  "I'm on guard
today."

	"You're still here today," one of the husbands observed, bouncing a
six year old boy on his knee.

	"Yeah..."  Given what I knew about the situation, nobody was more
surprised than me.

	I don't do baseball, as a rule, so I couldn't discuss stats; I just
watched the game.  Nobody complained.  Over the next hour or so, eight or nine
women wandered in from the direction of the kitchen and either beamed or eyed
me warily -- all of them from the married subset of the family except Polly.
Polly was Cassandra's sister -- the one that got the looks in the blonde,
fair-skinned branch of the family.  The day before, Polly had been with Ray --
who was conspicuous by his absence.

	Like a lot of the others, Polly didn't say anything -- she just looked
at me -- but in her case, it was an extremely lengthy examination.  Mr. French
finally looked up and asked her, "Something wrong, Polly?"

	"No," she said shortly.

	"Why are you giving Pete, here, the evil eye?"

	"It's not evil," she protested, "I just can't see how Mimi picked him
out."

	Mr. French turned an eye on me.  "Is that how it is?"

	I took a slug of my Bloody Mary to gather my thoughts, then said,
"Well, Sir, that's really up to Mimi.  I'll abide by her decision in the
matter, whether I want to or not."

	Mr. French eyed me for a moment, then grinned.  "Somebody give you
Women 101 at some point?"

	I shrugged.  "It takes two to tango, Sir.  I'll dance until she gets
tired of having her feet stepped on."

	"Huh," Polly grunted.  "If she's that dumb, I can count ten other
women who'll line up to take over..."  She eyed me.  "Maybe I know why, now."
Turning on her heel, she headed off.

	Mr. French eyed me.  The husband with the boy on his knee eyed me.
Every OTHER male in the room eyed me.  "You seem to have made an impression,"
Mr. French said carefully.

	"Probably no one is more surprised than I am, Sir," I told him.  I
turned my attention back to the TV; eventually, they all did, too.

	Twenty minutes later, Mama French came boiling through the door with a
plate of baked goods -- and despite the fact that I was halfway across the
room from Mr. French, I got the plate right after he did.  She didn't move on,
either -- just stood there, smiling until I backed up and said, "Thank you,"
with a brownie I really didn't want in my hand.  Even then, she was slow to
move on.  This was in direct opposition to the day before, when I'd been
greeted VERY warily and watched closely from a distance; I think the late Ray
fared better.  "Mimi says you like chocolate," she burst out when it appeared
that we had no more reason to be in each other's presence.

	"Mimi is right, as usual," I replied, wondering where Mimi would have
garnered such information.  Probably Mama French just made it up...

	It didn't keep her from beaming at me before finally moving on -- and
handing the plate to one of the husbands to pass to the others.  I wondered
just how obvious THAT was...  Mr. French noticed, for sure.  Rising, he
speared me with a look, "Let's go start the grill."

	I knew when I was being summoned; I swigged the remains of my Bloody
Mary (coughing on some pepper that had dropped to the bottom of the glass) and
followed him outside.

	He made a production of squatting to check the gas tank connections
and turning on the valve, then punching the igniter as he turned on each of
the burners -- then he turned to me.  "You want to tell me what magic spell
you just cast over Emily?"

	"Emily?" I asked blankly.

	"Mimi's mother."

	"Oh."  I hadn't gotten her name the day before -- just Mama...
"They're up to something, Sir -- those women.  I'm a victim."

	He pursed his lips, eyeing me, then nodded.  "Yeah, that sounds about
right.  From the looks of things, unless you run real fast, I'll be welcoming
you into the family."

	"I'm a slow runner, Sir."

	"Glad to hear it."  He got out a brass brush and worked over the
grilles; our conversation was over.  We went back inside and he stuck his head
in the kitchen, "Ten minutes."  Then he waved me back into the living room and
I resumed my seat on the couch.  About half of the distaff males eyed me with
one expression or another on their faces; the other half ignored me and
concentrated on baseball.  I pretended to be fascinated with the stuff.

	Ten minutes later, Mimi stuck her head through the door, "Pete, Honey,
would you come here a minute?"

	I gathered my glass and clambered up off the couch and waddled into
the dining room.  A half-dozen of my poker buddies from the night before were
standing in various positions in the room, eyeing me, and another half-dozen
of the already-marrieds were leaning around the kitchen door.  Mimi took my
glass and handed it to Trina, then asked casually, "What did Daddy want?"

	"He wanted to know if I was up to something."

	"What did you tell him?"

	"I told him it was a big female conspiracy.  He's familiar with such
things," I grinned.

	"What else did he say?" Mimi asked, eyeing me sidelong.

	"He asked me if I thought I could run fast enough not to get caught.
I told him the truth -- I'm a slow runner."  That got me pushed against the
wall while a pair of ten thousand volt lips mashed themselves against mine.  I
launched a tongue and grabbed a big double handful of ass and worked hard at
holding up my end -- and apparently did a respectable job, since Mimi lost her
breath.  When she backed off, it was only far enough to whisper, "That's my
ass you're squeezing!"

	I grinned and whispered back, "Are you sure?  Maybe it's mine..."
That got me another lip-lock.  After that, though, she broke out.  "Go back to
your game, you animal!" she exclaimed, clearly trying to pretend that my
advances were unwelcome.  I glanced around; nobody was buying -- including
Mama French, who was somewhat scandalized.  Aunt Betty was grinning from ear
to ear.

	I looked penitent.  "Don't I even get a refill?"  Trina glanced down
at the glass she was holding and took off like a shot, her oversize ass
swaying.  I had to hand it to her -- she managed to be graceful despite it,
doing these little swinging jinks that got her past the slow-moving females in
the kitchen door without any apparent collisions.  Ninety seconds later she
was back, still hustling.  We'd kind of hung out in tableau while we waited,
nobody really moving much; Mimi was pretending that I was a brute for
squeezing her ass, and everyone else was basically waiting on Trina.  When she
solemnly handed me the glass, I cocked an eyebrow at Mimi and leaned down and
bussed Trina on the lips while deliberately squeezing a big handful of her
ass.  This elicited a startled gasp from Mama French and a cackle from Aunt
Betty -- and I'd never seen anyone with their heart in their eyes until I got
a look at Trina's as I backed away.  I turned and headed back to the living
room, deliberately ignoring the general uproar behind me, knowing that it was
generally favorable.

	Two minutes later, Mimi swayed in and plopped -- rather heavily -- in
my lap, bracing herself against the couch arm.  I limited myself to a quiet
"Oof!"  Mimi got glares from various quarters for her clear invasion of 'man
territory' -- but no overt action.  Mimi leaned in and whispered, "You set
expectations in there -- Trina is gonna be Hell on wheels -- and the others
are all gonna be lining up for sugar..."

	"It's your fault," I countered, "for pretending to be outraged at
having your ass squeezed a little."

	"How do you know I was pretending?" she asked, eyeing me sidelong.  I
just returned her look.  "Okay, so maybe I was -- did you have to set the
whole place on it's ear?"

	"Your aunt seems to think I need to deliver on expectations," I
whispered.

	"Well you can disappoint THEM a little, as long as you don't
disappoint ME!" she whispered back.

	"Have I?"

	"No.  But be careful, okay?  Trina..."

	"...Needs lovin'," I finished for her.  "I'll be careful."

	"Okay."  She kissed me on the cheek and swayed out.  I became aware
that Mr. French was eyeing me in amusement.

	From there on, the day proceeded fairly smoothly.  Without anyone else
trying to bump up my alcohol consumption, I controlled it easily, staying just
lit enough to be loose and easy and not freaked by the crowd of people.
Couples and families started punching out at about five o'clock, headed home;
we headed out a bit later, since we were only going to Aunt Betty's and she
needed to back out of the party first.

	Mimi and I walked into Aunt Betty's living room at about eight o'clock
to find about eight of the female relatives gathered there, plus guests --
Cassandra, Polly, Trina, Annette, her friend Trish (a Goth chick), Michelle,
her girlfriend Lily, Irene, her friends Leticia and Kenya, Elaine, Aunt Kate
and, of course, Aunt Betty...  I swept my eyes over that mass of feminine
flesh and the first thing out of my mouth was, "Um, look, there's only one of
me..."

	Aunt Betty laughed out loud.  "Well, four of us have had you -- but
Mimi's an exception.  On the other hand, you don't know who you've had and who
you haven't, do you?"  She grinned maliciously.

	"You're right," I agreed.  "But I still have limits, anyway..."

	"We'll see..." Betty argued.

	"Well, I wasn't here last night," Mimi's Aunt Kate declared, "and I
hear amazing things..."

	"I'm sure some of them are fairy tales," I replied.  Aunt Kate looked
like she had fangs.

	"I've already seen ample evidence that you're no fool!" Kate replied,
eyeing me.  "Some jerk-offs would be selling wolf tickets about now...  Your
head doesn't seem to have swollen too much."

	"The visible one, anyway," Betty chuckled.

	"I also hear you like titties," Kate pressed.  "Are you just a tit
man, or do you have other interests?"

	"I, uh, take the whole woman into account," I stammered.

	"So," she turned around and indicated her sizeable butt -- and age
probably helped make it one of the larger ones present in a group with asses
larger than the median.  "What about this?"

	"I've learned a whole new appreciation," I replied, "although I always
considered Mimi's to be an asset..."  There was a titter generated by my
inadvertent pun, but Mimi beamed.

	"So," Kate pressed, "is there anyone in this room you wouldn't fuck?"

	I let my eyes sweep the room.  "At the risk of being thought of as
less than picky, no.  You all meet my standards."

	"We don't seem to have isolated your standards," Kate jibed.

	"And you won't," I shot back.  "They're highly individualized and very
subjective.  Even I can't express them cogently."

	"How about if I asked you to rank them?" she pressed.

	"Put them in order of preference?" I asked, blinking in surprise.
Flicking a glance at Betty, I asked, "Wouldn't that be counterproductive?"

	"It would," Betty agreed.  "Let's not go there, Sis."

	"Wait!  There's a method to my madness!" Kate insisted.  "He can do it
on paper -- but I want to see the results.  We'll burn it, after."  She looked
at her sister.  "You should see them, too -- you may not have such a high
opinion of him, after."

	"I'm officially against it," I grated.

	"All the more reason," Kate replied.  "You're a silver-tongued devil,
you are.  I want to see behind the curtain!"

	"Auntie!  You're SO wrong!" Mimi erupted.  "Tell her, Aunt Betty!"

	"It took a half gallon of alcohol administered over a five hour period
to get him to open up!" Betty asserted.  "He's only doing this well because
he's comfortable!"

	"He could have strung you along..." Kate insisted.  Mimi rolled her
eyes.

	"Fine!" I snapped.  "But I'm gonna want blood for this!  AFTER you
wipe the egg off your face, I'm gonna figure out something for you!  And if it
hurts someone..."  I was royally pissed; this kind of thing could do
tremendous damage!  The whole idea, as it was given to me, was to boost the
girls' confidence -- you don't do that by pointing out losers...

	"My, my!  Temper, temper!" Kate retorted.  "Fine!  I'm not worried!"

	Two minutes later, I was sitting on a barstool with a clipboard on my
lap, trying to figure out how not to telegraph who was where on the list.
Some of it was going to be easy -- and some of it was going to be a bitch!

	The top:  Mimi

	The bottom:  Poor Cassandra.

	Number Two:  Annette.

	Next to last:  Lilly

	Number three:  Elaine.

	Third from bottom:  Polly.

	Number Four:  Michelle.

	I changed my mind, erasing Elaine and replacing her with Trina.
Elaine moved to Number Four, and Michelle to Number Five.  Damn, this was
hard!

	Number Six:  Trish.  I'd probably have to explain that.

	Number Seven:  Kenya.

	Number Eight:  Irene.

	Number Nine:  Betty.

	Number Ten: Kate.

	Number Eleven: Leticia.

	I looked over it again; in order, it was:

	Mimi
	Annette
	Trina
	Elaine
	Michelle
	Trish
	Kenya
	Irene
	Betty
	Kate
	Leticia
	Polly
	Lily
	Cassandra

	I let my eyes sweep the group, grimaced, and moved Polly above Leticia
-- the black girl was just too skinny for my taste.  I thought about pushing
her below Lily, but Lily repelled me with her in-your-face lesbianism.  I
picked up Kate with my eyes, "Get a lighter."

	"Betty?"  Kate turned to her sister, who turned up a long-barreled
grill lighter.  The pair of them crossed the room to peer over my shoulder.
Kate glanced at the top of the list and grunted," No surprise," -- then she
shut up.  She scanned the list and glanced here and there, looking more and
more thoughtful.  "Let's take this outside," she suggested.

	"Why?" I asked.

	"Because I want to know why," she replied.

	"Where?"

	"Outside that window," Kate replied.  "Girls, turn on some music, and
don't go too close to the window -- but we'll want to be able to see you all."
She nodded at her sister, "Come, Betty."

	Moments later, we were standing in the gathering dusk, peering in at
the girls -- who were looking back nervously.  "This charade is NOT a good
idea!" Betty declared.

	"Maybe not," Kate replied, "but he's too good to be true!  Even if he
can order them, I can catch him if he tells me why..."

	"Fine," I grunted.  "Let's get this over with."

	"Trish isn't family," Kate kicked off.

	"That's a criterion?" I retorted.

	"No, but..." Kate cocked her head.  "Why is Trina where she is?  You
did erasures..."

	"She's... needy, I guess.  So is Trish.  The Goth thing is a dead
giveaway."

	"So is Cassandra," Kate observed.  "From this, it appears that you
don't like blondes."  I didn't argue.  It also turned out that they were
shorter and wider and, well...

	"You know, except for the black girl, they're almost organized by
height," Betty noted, then amended herself, "WE'RE almost ordered by
height..."  She cast a look at me.

	"I'm amazed at my position," Kate muttered.  "Here I am ragging on
you..."

	"I like moxie," I shrugged.  "You're just trying to protect them.
Besides, there's nothing wrong with your rack from where I'm standing -- OR
your ass!"

	"Kenya?" Kate queried.

	"This isn't about race, is it?" I asked.  "You asked for a list based
upon straight appeal."

	"What's wrong with Irene?"

	I shrugged.  Irene was working hard at being dykey -- it was part of
why Kenya and Leticia were there in the first place.  "Presentation," I
replied, shrugging -- meaning the boyish hairdo and the tattoos and piercings.
"There's no reason she can't move up -- question is, would she WANT to?"

	"Ah."  Kate nodded.  "You might be surprised.  Ever hear the quote,
'Methinks the lady doth protest too much'?"

	I nodded.  "Distinctly possible."

	"What if I told you that you could only fuck the bottom five?" Kate
asked, eyeing me.

	"You're all in zone -- I said so.  I'm not changing my mind based upon
this."  I tapped the clipboard.  "I note that YOU are in the bottom five...
and five is a stretch."

	Kate smiled.  "Is that how you're going to punish me?"

	"You agree, then, that you're to be punished?" I countered.

	Kate flicked a glance at her sister.  "Back to Trina..."

	"No.  The list stands," I said flatly.  "I've explained Trina -- as
best I can, anyway.  She brings out something in me -- maybe she wouldn't if I
just met her on the street..."

	"And Trish?" Kate eyed me.

	"Same thing, to a lesser extent."  I stuck out my hand.  "Lighter."

	Kate tried to forestall Betty, but she made the pass.  Trying to light
the thing with one hand and hold it with the other gave Kate an opening to
snatch it -- but Betty wrestled it out of her hands and held it for me to
light, holding her off until it was burning merrily.  "Enough is enough!  Sis,
you KNOW you failed!  I know you failed!  Even HE knows you failed!  Now
stop!"

	"Okay, you're right," Kate admitted.  "I thought by bringing him out
here and making him justify positions, I might pull off a miracle and get my
ass out of a jam, but I failed.  I apologize, Pete.  You win."  She cocked her
head, suddenly coquettish.  "What are you going to do?"

	I didn't have an answer.  "I'll let you know when I've gotten my next
dose of inspiration," I grunted.  "Right now, I have no idea."  I waved a
finger, "I CERTAINLY don't want that list given out!"

	"No, you're right -- that would break things," Kate agreed.  "Let's go
in."  We moved to the entry and as we came through Kate announced, "Mea culpa!
Okay, girls -- you were right, and I was wrong -- he's the real deal!"

	"Hooray!"

	"Now what?" I wondered aloud.  "More cards?  Adult swim?"

	Betty pursed her lips.  "That worked last night, but I don't know what
it accomplishes today."

	I shrugged.  "Well, it's fun..."

	Betty grinned.  "There is that!  I don't think cards are necessary,
but how about a swim, everybody?  Naked Marco Polo with Pete as permanent
'it'?"