Family dynamics
The house is not a joyful one. Four are OK, but somber. One is miserable.
Living alone, is simply a bit lonely most of the time and crushingly lonely on occasion.
Living with a wife is putting your entire life in the hands of another and that, in retrospect, is a dumb thing to do, at least it was for me.
Living with mistresses eschews the loneliness. There is no crushing loneliness, ever. But it is not all happiness and roses either. Right now is a prime example. There is no way to make all of these gals happy all the time and there are times when it is just impossible to make one happy at all.
The last time it was Jelou who was souring the punch bowl for all. Now it’s Myra who is depressing us.
Must I make her miserable? Must I tell her, ‘no’?
No, I could violate my own concept of right and wrong. I could put a very young teen into a cauldron of sexual congress and hope for the best. But it would likely screw the kid up for life. Why would I want to risk that? I would not have done it with Jelou, but she was hardly an innocent.
In my estimation Myra and Alida are being selfish and showing a disregard for the long term welfare of the child. But maybe it’s not even Alida. Maybe it’s just Myra. I need to speak with Alida again.
I send her a text suggesting we talk. I get a cryptic message back saying she is busy and will get back to me.
Right now, I am sitting in the Sala with my brandy and jazz. Nina Simone is singing Mood Indigo. Jezryl, Vieve, and Jecim are playing Tong-Its and devouring chips. Myra is doing something on her phone. I don’t know what exactly, but she looks like she might be using Facebook Messenger. We have finished supper and the kitchen is clean.
Life is not an all-day orgy. Nor is it filled with action like a Hollywood movie. How could it be? We live something of normal lives in many ways. One of them is a school girl. One works six days a week. Three function as housekeepers and it keeps them busy throughout the week, though not as much as when there were just two. My car gets washed more often now, and the garden is being attended to more these days.
This is not a sex den. It is a home. A place to find safety, caring, and stability. And that remains true, even if there is a cloud hanging over us. Things may not be uproariously fun filled right now, but no one is at risk. Life continues on.
The gals have in the past couple of weeks, placed personal items in drawers in my bedroom. The choice of what to put in has been a personal one for each of them. The fact that all have done so has made Jelou very happy. Even Vieve has placed things in the room, though I have not been with her yet.
The health checkup I sent Vieve to get, didn’t reveal anything critical, but she did have some small things that needed attention and we have put off sexual congress until her doc gives her a clean bill of health. I expect she will get that in a couple of days. She knows I am waiting for her. I have been teasing her. She likes it.
When I initially sent her away, before she met Kenneth, I thought she would never have a place here. I was wrong.
The brandy in my glass, well it is a snifter, but that sounds pretty pretentious at the moment, is nice and warm, but not hot. The flavors and aroma are amazing. I just can’t fathom why all the Filipinos I know take it over ice. It makes no sense.
Anyway, I am enjoying it, and the music. Jelou sits down next to me, but on the floor. She is not saying a word. She rests her head against my leg. One of her hands begins stroking the inside of my thigh and calf. So now, as I sit on this comfortable chair, drinking my brandy and listening to Cyrus Chestnut playing Grandmama’s Blues, this young girl leans on me and caresses my leg.
I have just being thinking that this place is not a sex den and then Jelou comes over to me as if to argue the point in a fairly convincing manner.
OK, so maybe a caress is not sex, but it sure is sweet and sexy. No one else is taking any notice. Not that they should. My hand rests on Jelou’s head, my fingers play with her hair. My head lolls back with eyes closed, on the chair’s high cushioned back.
I am thinking that I need to be careful with this one. I suspect she is attaching to me in a manner that might make no sense to anyone but her, but may be incredibly intense, nevertheless. If so, I need to take care not to break her heart. I owe that to her. Monogamy or not, things happen in life. This is one I sure as hell didn’t expect.
I’m drifting now. An intensely rhythmic Afrocuban piece by Mario Bauza called El Manisero is playing. I’m swaying to it in my head. I feel my zipper being pulled down and my slacks unbuttoned. I ignore it.
Jelou has fished my limp dick out of my boxers, which offers little resistance and no obstacle. She is stroking me, gently and now slowly as Ernie Walls’ sax cries out sweetly and slowly, the tune, Company.
There are moments, you just really do ask yourself, can life really get any better than this? I am not sure it can. Jelou has her small hands on me. They are warm, soft, caring, and comforting. I feel warmth that cannot be from her hands.
Ah, it isn’t. I sense her lips graze my dick. They barely touch. It is playful. But while I was rising to the occasion before, this seems to have pushed me into a new phase. I am quickly and seriously rigid. Jelou’s touch is now firmer, and more demanding.
My body is not responding to a fourteen-year-old. It is responding to Jelou, a girl who is mine and may always be that. Age is a meaningless measure now. It was a meaningless measure in some ways when I met her, but in some ways it was very much a cause of my concern. Now, it is not a matter of even casual consideration.
Jelou might be sixteen, or twenty-one, or forty-one. It makes no difference to me. I suspect it means nothing to her. She is not on the street, not needing to worry about tomorrow, or her future. She is living her future. Her stomach is no longer in knots.
No, it is not in knots, but her mouth may soon enough become a receptacle for my cum, unless she removes that mouth from the task in which it is currently engaged.
The music has moved on. I think we are listening to Brubeck’s La Paloma Azul. Its lilting marching cadence is a pretty good match to what Jelou is doing to me right now. It’s funny but my mind wanders to Chick Corea’s Spain. Could Corea have gotten a little inspiration from the Brubeck piece? How can I be thinking about that as Jelou has me going so strongly?
Damn. I think she has decided she needs to center my attention a bit better. She has my nuts in a vise like grip and has my full attention now. She is sucking hard. I am getting close. Is this what she wants, tonight? I will be lying with her later. She is not cheating anyone else of a treat.
I decide to not worry about it. This is her choice. I will go with it. I think my brief worry has lengthened my staying power. If she expects to get me off, she will have to work a bit harder now.
She is trying but I am not so close any more. I reach down and pull her up, bring her face to mine, and bring her in for a good long kiss. I have opened my eyes and while I am kissing Jelou, I see Myra standing back but just glaring at me. I whisper in Jelou’s ear that we will finish this in the bedroom later. She bites my ear and whispers back, You better!
Jelou is lying over me as I sit on the chair in something of a partially recumbent form. I look up at Myra, who asks, You trying to prove a point?
Excuse me?
You do this to show me why Alida not be here?
Ah, no. I did not encourage this. It was Jelou’s decision, completely.
Talking to her back, Myra asks, Lou why you do this?
You want your niece to see what we do here?
She would not if you do it in the bedroom! Why you do this here?
You do things here before. Jezryl tell me this. Why everything change for you and your niece? You not like it? Why you here?
Myra storms off. I am about to speak a bit harshly to Jelou, when Jecim speaks up and says, She right. Remember when you kick us out last time? Myra try to change things here. This the same. Jelou do right. We not do as Myra want this time. This time if someone leave, it is Myra, not us!
Jecim is speaking loud enough for Myra to hear her. That is not by accident. Three minutes later Myra is back in the room. She walks back to me before asking, You kicking me out?
Do I need to?
She shakes her head and walks off.
The card players return to their game. Jelou, who is snuggled next to me, just snuggles in a little tighter. I here because this your world. I not want it change. I not let it change. Jezryl, Vieve and Jecim, we not let it change. We make sure this is true.
I am not sure anyone can prevent change, sweetheart. It is part of life.
No. We not allow this. You will see.
I am somewhat flummoxed. This girl has known nothing but change all her life. She has never really known stability. Why does she think she can assure what she has never known? Her desire is sweet and understandable, but completely unachievable.
Do I tell her that? No, sometimes it is best to keep the mouth firmly shut.
Eventually, Jelou and I leave the card players and Myra downstairs and enter my bedroom. My partner for the night is neither worried, nor excited. She is assured, calm, and seemingly happy. This fourteen-year-old is happy to be going to bed with a sixty-seven-year-old man. Say it like that, and it makes no sense. Say Jelou is retiring for the evening with the man who has brought peace, safety and stability to her life and it begins to be comprehensible.
We’re not in a hurry. She showers, I shower. I reenter the bedroom, and she pats the mattress next to her. Pardon me for seeing the mindset of a wife in a female so young. But she is self-assured. She knows she belongs here and that all is as it should be.
I get into bed next to her, now completely naked. She leans over and bites my earlobe before whispering, I start where I stop before, and she giggles, before she rearranges herself and takes me orally.
I am soft at the moment, but Jelou’s attentions remedy that. Soon enough life returns to the old soldier. As it comes to attention, Jelou pulls up, and gets on hands and knees, wiggling her ass, and giggles. I don’t have to be a genius to figure this out.
Getting behind her I center the old man behind the maiden and plunge in for a visit. Damn, does she ever feel good on my shaft. The feeling of intimate warmth radiates through my body. It is a feeling that never, no matter how many times I experience it, ever leaves me with any feeling other than one of, ‘what took you so long to get back here?’
At this moment, I want all time to stop so that the feeling never has to end. And, at this moment, my body tells my mind that this is love. It’s not, of course, but that is the lie our body tells us each and every time. It is why there are so many bad marriages, I guess. Too many times we believe the lie.
I know better, but for now, as I experience Jelou this way, this most intimate of ways, I hear my body’s lie and for these precious moments, I believe the truth of it.
Once I cum, I will return to my senses, but not now. Now I am heartsick that I cannot plant a seed in this girl and hold her and our child close to me for the decades to come.
I feel me. I feel her. I feel us. Us, as one, living, breathing, and united. We drive on, experiencing a bliss as our bodies push toward culmination.
She is grunting, gripping, leaking, moaning, and slamming her bottom into me. I am grabbing her tits, her belly, her clit, grunting and growling as I slam repeatedly into her cunt.
She is small and I far larger, but it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that which we are engaged in.
The bed is shaking but the concrete floor and walls will deny the evidence to the outside world.
Now she is talking to me. Rolie, please, please Rolie. Give it to me Rolie. Rolie, oh Rolie. Yes, yes, oh, yes, please. Now Rolie, now, please, now.
And now it is, as I cum deep and hard inside her. I am exhausted. Spent. She wiggles her ass, Again? And she giggles.
I can’t help but laugh which causes my dick to shake a bit and causes Jelou a momentary gasp. But I am done and I flop down next to her on my back, pulling her close to me for a kiss.
The room is silent except for the sound of the aircon.
Jelou is happy and satisfied. Satisfied not merely because she has cum and felt my cum, but because this wasn’t a stolen moment. It wasn’t something we need to hide and deny. It is a joyous affirmation of her membership here. It is proof of her belonging. And now, rather than needing to scurry off and act like nothing has transpired, she can relax under the sheet, next to me, secure in the knowledge that all is right with the world, even if tomorrow is a school day and one in which her schoolmates will all be virgins and have no idea of what her life is like. They don’t need to know. And that is as much for their good as it is for hers. She is aware that she has grown up way too fast. She is happy that they didn’t have to do so.
In no more than five minutes Jelou is asleep with an untroubled heart.
Morning is a school day and Jelou is out of the bedroom and off to school early. Myra has also gone to work by the time I am downstairs and pouring my first cup of coffee.
Roland, we argue about Myra. What you going to do?
OK, Jecim. Why are you arguing?
Me and Jezryl say you tell Myra to go. She not right here. Vieve say, you must not do this. She say Myra stay so long as she good to you and want to stay. We say, she bad to you, now. Vieve think she not.
Jecim, I know Myra is unhappy. She has made that very clear. But she hasn’t changed anything here because you don’t allow it. Correct?
Yes! See she bad!
No, she is unhappy. If she had succeeded in changing things, she would be bad. But she hasn’t, because you three know better than to allow this. I am not happy with Myra and I think it would be better if she goes but I will not kick her out if she has not done any damage.
But she not want to go!
I know, and I am honestly confused about this. She has a job, an intact family, and so I never really understood why she was here other than the fact that she was a bit of a sexual rebel. But maybe there is more to it. I do think she enjoys girl-girl sex. Jezryl, what do you think about that?
It true. She like it. Hard to get it and have a man. So this place good for her. But she miss her sister. This a big problem for her.
I agree with that assessment. It’s a big problem for her. And that means it isn’t my problem. I don’t want to take ownership of her issues. Let her sort it out. I will do nothing so long has she doesn’t cause problems for me. If she chooses to make problems, then she has made the choice to leave but needs me to do it for her. It’s a far less lethal version of ‘suicide by cop.’
Look girls, all of us, each of you, will be unhappy from time to time. I can’t start kicking you out because you are unhappy. That just makes no sense. We all need to have the space to know we can be unhappy and still safe. Am I clear on this point?
Vieve visibly brightens and says clearly, Yes. Very clear. You right.
Ah! That was the message she needed to hear, loud and unambiguously from me. She has heard it, and her faith that she is here for the right reasons has been reinforced. I can see it in her eyes as they bore into mine.