I heard Mark's car crunching on the gravel around 4:30 on Thursday afternoon. The sun was still high and strong and I was out by the pool with a cold beer and the latest Spenser novel. I almost wished they'd been stuck in traffic; I hate being interrupted while reading Parker.
I trundled myself out of the chaise lounge and wandered across the semi-landscaped yard to meet them. I've got three acres, but only one was cleared. The house sits in the middle of that. Most of the property is as it was before cars were discovered. The local wildlife also knew it was a safe place. A couple of huge hares were standing on their hind legs to see who the intruders were.
The little circular driveway is surrounded by brush, so I heard the car doors opening and closing long before I saw the first signs of their arrival – in this case, Dolores, the 15-year-old. She was carrying a duffel bag and one of those pouches that holds cassette tapes.
"Hi, Uncle Dan!" She was still very pretty, with a mischievous smile that brightened dark rooms. All long legs and auburn hair…she was going to be a beauty. She was showing that first glow of blossoming into womanhood, and there were some outstanding secondary sexual characteristics asserting themselves under her NKOTB tee-shirt. She'd inherited her Puerto Rican mother's complexion and smile; she got her blue eyes and hair color from Mark.
"Hi, Dolores! Glad to see you! Need a hand?"
She giggled. "No – but Mom does."
"What do you mean?"
More giggles. "You'll see! Where should I put these?"
"Just drop 'em in one of the bedrooms downstairs. Your choice."
I stepped through the brush into the little clearing that is my one and only concession to cars on the property. Parked next to my van was Mark's Subaru.
"Hey, Mark, Kate, Penny."
All waved and grinned abashedly and I soon saw why. Kate's seatbelt clasp was stuck and she and Mark were trying to free it. Which reminded me: Between the two of them, danger lurked in every mechanical device. Penny was sitting stolidly in the backseat, biting her lower lip and trying not to laugh as she watched the fun.
When I saw the cause of the problem, I did bark out a quick laugh, which I immediately tried to cover by clearing my throat. Somehow, Kate had managed to buckle the snap with a piece of her pretty, lightweight printed summery dress caught in it. Naturally, the first time she'd moved more than a few inches, it had ripped a sizable portion of the dress, exposing a sizable portion of her torso.
"Don't you dare laugh, Daniel," she warned, eyes bright with mirth. "This is serious business."
"I can see that."
Penny coughed. She was going to lose it in a moment.
"Did you say something, honey?" Mark asked. He was kneeling on the driver's seat, bent over the imprisoning buckle. He raised his head to look at Penny and, of course, banged said head on the roof of the car.
"Say, Mark – why don't you go down to the basement and get my red toolbox so we can free the prisoner of fender here."
Rubbing his head, he nodded and said, "Good idea, and, oh, yeah, great to see you." He started to offer his left hand – he was rubbing his head with his right – realized his malaprop, switched hands and in the process smacked himself in the eye. Same old Mark.
We managed to wait till he was a decent distance away before breaking into muffled guffaws.
"'Prisoner of fender'?" Kate repeated. "I'll get you for that!"
Penny scrambled out and around. "Want to take a crack at this?" I asked.
She looked at me with that look only a kid can give an adult. "Are you kidding? I've got both their genes. I'd probably blow up the car."
"Watch your mouth, young lady!" Kate barked, but there was no bite in it.
"It's more fun watching this," she replied.
"Want a kid?" Kate asked me.
"How much will you pay me?"
"I don't know. What's hamburger going for these days?"
I was working at the buckle, very much aware how close my hands were to Kate's rather abundant breasts, which were straining at the flimsy bra exposed by the injured dress. Their finances may have gone to hell in a handcart, but her figure was better than ever.
"Got it," I announced, feeling the little snick of the release.
"Praise be!" Kate said, grabbing the strap.
"Wait! Don't – "
Too late. She was so eager to be freed of her bondage that when she ripped the strap off, she also ripped away most of the top of her dress.
"At least you made it out alive," Penny offered cheerfully. She was taking bags out of the back seat.
Kate looked down at herself as she stood. "Damn." Then she shrugged and rolled the torn material around her waist. "Oh, well, I suppose it actually covers more than my swimsuit."
"Oh?"
Mark called from the house. "Hey, Dan – I can't find any red toolbox!"
I didn't tell him there wasn't any red toolbox.
"It's okay, Dad – she's sprung!"
Kate gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for having us."
"My pleasure, babe. I like being surrounded by women who run around in their underwear." I grabbed a couple of the bags and noticed, for the first time, that Penny had been growing since the last time I saw her. She had become more than a pretty little girl; she was a beautiful, budding adolescent. Her slightly curly hair was the color of gold, and she wore it shoulder-long. Her eyes were a pale blue. Her complexion was fair, but too warm to be pale. And she'd inherited the best of the bone structures of her mom and dad, which was saying a lot. She was going to be an absolute knockout when she grew up.
Mark came out to help with the bags and stared at his wife's braencased tits. I hung back with him as she and Penny preceded us toward the house. He was staring at his wife's sleek back and the firm, rounded twitching of her ass in the remains of the dress. He was shaking his head.
"Don't worry about the dress, Mark. It happens."
"Oh, not that. It's just that every time I look at her, it's like the first time. She just gets more and more beautiful. I am one lucky sonuvabitch."
"Amen to that." We started toward the house. "Where's Bonita?"
"She's waiting in the apartment for Irene. Keep her company on the way out. They're taking the Long Island Railroad. Should get here around nine-thirty. They'll probably be yakking all the way."
"They keep in touch, eh?"
"And how. Every time Irene gets a flight assignment in the Northeast, she calls and they gab."
"Flight assignment?"
"Oh, yeah – Irene's a flight attendant."
We climbed the five wooden steps to the side door. Dolores was walking around the living room, investigating my collection of books and tapes in the alcove next the fireplace. She was wearing a swimsuit under her tee-shirt, now, and her long legs flashed and tensed as she shifted and bent. The bottom of the suit didn't cover much of her ripe little ass. I cautioned myself not to respond to the sight, but did anyhow, of course. I settled for reminding myself to behave.
"Where do you want to bunk us?"
"I gave the girls first choice of the bedrooms down here. You guys get the one on the left, upstairs."
I heard the bathroom door open and turned to find Kate striding toward us. She had put on her swimsuit and pulled a pair of denim shorts on over the bottoms. I knew she was wearing the bottoms because the outline was visible under the very tight shorts. And she'd been right – the bra hid more than the white Lurex top.
Mark's breathing had shortened. "Hey, honey, help me put these upstairs?"
She looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Sure." She took one minuscule makeup bag from her husband and sashayed past us. We both stared for a moment before Mark began to follow, his eyes fixed on his wife's gorgeous butt.
"Mark?"
He shook himself and looked at me.
"Be sure the door is closed. Noise and all that."
He grinned and blushed like a school-kid. I'd stayed with them once when they were first married. At first I'd thought there was a malfunctioning air-raid siren nearby. Kate was a screamer.
I deposited the other bags right there in the living room; they could sort them out. Then I noticed Dolores. The ceiling of the main floor goes all the way to the roof for half its width and Dolores was watching her mesmerized father follow her sashaying mother across the balcony to the bedroom.
Penny came out of the bedroom and saw Dolores looking up. "Where's Mom and Dad?"
I heard the bedroom door close. Dolores just nodded toward the balcony.
"Oh, jeez," Penny said. "Everybody into the shelter!" She put her fingers into her ears and headed for the sliding screen doors to the rear deck and the backyard beyond, lean legs scissoring beneath the thigh-length jumbo tee-shirt.
Dolores followed at a more leisurely pace. She was shaking her head.
"What's the matter?"
"I never knew old folks could get it on so much. None of my friends' parents do it so much or so loud."
I stepped onto the deck and closed the screen door behind us. "Your folks are very much in love."
"And lust."
I laughed. "That, too."
"Gives me hope for my old age," she said and grinned.
"Old age? Hey, your dad's only a few years older than I am." I was trying to kid her.
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you're single and do stuff. You're – well, you're not like a parent."
"Not that I know of."
We stepped off the deck onto the cool grass and headed toward the pool.
"Is it okay if we swim?"
I looked out at the yard, where Penny was investigating the bird feeder. "You have to," I said. "Unless the pool gets churned up, it solidifies. Can't have that."
"Uh-uh. Can't let that happen." She walked a little bit ahead of me and slowly peeled her tee-shirt up. The blue lurex or spandex bottom covered maybe two-thirds of her butt. Hard, creamy ass flesh clenched and twitched in front of me for the next three or four steps, during which she completed the de-tee-shirting. Her hips were slightly flared, her waist was taut and the top of her suit was no more than a narrow band of very tightly stretched blue across her shoulder blades. She shook her chestnut hair back and suddenly turned to face me.
"Hold my shirt for me?" She thrust it at me.
"Uh…sure."
She smiled again, this time slyly. "How do you like my suit?" She slowly turned this way and that. Yes, her secondary sexual characteristics were superbly developed. About a handful (and I've got big hands), they were firm and jutting, even within the not-quite confines of the stretch top.
Which is to say: She had great tits.
"There's not much to like," I said. "And I like it."
Just then we could hear the first distant wailing from the house. It went louder and higher and then there was a shriek – and the wailing resumed.
Dolores's eyes were half-closed and her nipples were hardening. She shook her self, turned and jogged toward the pool. A moment later, I heard the splash. I strode slowly ahead, the tee-shirt in my hand. Penny awaited me at the gate.
"She's gotten to be such a flirt."
I looked down at her, found her looking up at me, beautiful face expressionless and utterly devoid of guile. The top of her head was barely even with the bottom of my ribcage. We stepped inside the fencing. Dolores's splashing pretty well covered the screams from the house.
"Most pretty girls flirt," I said. "It's usually a phase."
"I know. It starts when they take first deliveries on the flirting equipment." She picoted, watching her sister. "She's already had some re-orders delivered."
I went to my chaise lounge and sat. She followed and stood beside me, still watching her sister. Dolores seemed to be trying to swim the length of the pool underwater on a single breath. She was almost making it.
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"
"A little." She pulled the big tee-shirt off and stood in her own two-piece, which was considerably less flashy and more modest than her sister's. "But I'm only eleven." She smiled brightly. "I think I'll do okay. What do you think?"
Eleven? She had tits 14-year-olds would kill for. Penny was an early bloomer. Her legs were still a bit skinny and she had no hips, but her breasts were already forming nicely and proudly, and her little peach of an ass was something I could have cheerfully take a big bite out of – if there was any skin that wasn't taut as a rubber ball.
"Yeah, you'll do okay. Go swim."
"Sure!" She whirled, whooped and leaped.
Had she glanced at my crotch, quickest of snatched glimpses, just before turning? I wasn't sure, but I was glad I was wearing a jockstrap and swimsuit under my shorts – or else there'd have been no concealing the hard-on there.
I grabbed the remains of my now-warm and flat beer and drained it. This was going to be one helluva trying weekend – and Bonita and Irene hadn't even shown up yet!