She murmured something. I couldn't hear her, so I kneeled
between her splayed legs and said, "What was that, sweet girl?
What'd you say?"
"She'll tell you, Billy, but first she's got to be relaxed.
That phone call scared her. Is everything all right?"
I nodded and offered no further explanation.
"Tell you what, Billy. Pull up the ottoman there behind you
and sit facing us. Put your legs over Billy's, Margi so he can
move in and be close. OK?"
Perhaps it was because of the dim, flickering candle light
or perhaps Jean and Margi had come to some trust or understanding
while I'd been talking with our mom because she didn't demure at
all. Sliding up toward them, my own legs splayed, Margi lifted
her's and dropped her thighs over mine. In turn, my legs were
draped over Jean's. My dark adaptation and the candle light
enabled me to appreciate the furry core of Margi's pelvis in the
process.
"Hmmmm, nice, Margi."
"Are you commenting on Margi's pussy, Billy?"
Margi gasped and I felt her trying to close her legs, but
she was stuck in an open and exposed position.
Not waiting for a reply, Jean went on, "Tell Billy what you
told me a few minutes ago, Margi."
"Oh, I couldn't . . ." she began but was cut off by Jean
immediately.
"Sure you can, girl." Jean cupped both her breasts in her
hands and rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She
then turned her attention to me. "I'll start." she began.
"Margi has always wanted to acknowledge her body as well as her
sexuality. She told me that making out in the dark is fun
certainly, but not exciting. She's attracted to the excitement.
Aren't you, girl?"
Margi glanced at me and then tried to look up at Jean but
couldn't manage fully. Jean nudged her again and she nodded.
"Aren't you?" prompted Jean.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I love the excitement."
"And?"
"And . . . I'm too embarrassed to ask for it."
Patiently, "For what, Margi?"
"For someone to tell me what to do." she said softly and
then gaining some confidence, added in a louder voice, "I want to
do things. All sorts of things, you know - sexy things - but I'm
too shy. It's not that I don't want to try things, everything,
it's that I'm so embarrassed. If someone, you, *makes* me do
things . . . well, then I can't refuse. It's like it's not my
fault. Then it's OK. Know what I mean?"
"Good, Margi. Now let me ask you this. Are you willing to
tell Billy what are deal is?"
Margi nodded, studying the rug in front of her, not looking
up.
"ARE you, girl?" Jean nudged her again.
Margi suddenly looked up at me and stared for a long moment
before saying, "Yes, I am."
I touched her for the first time. I placed my hands on the
tops of her thighs and slowly stroked up and down. "Then tell
me, Margi. What's the "deal' - the one you've made with Jean.
I'd like to hear you tell me."
She took a deep breath and blew it out. Then another before
beginning. "I told Jean that I was so excited, so hot a little
while ago - when we were playing Truth or Dare - that I would
have done anything, and Jean asked, 'Anything?'"
She took another breath and continued. "When she asked me
that, I was excited and afraid at the same time, but I guess I
was more excited then frightened so I said, 'Yes, anything.'"
Jean continued to roll Margi's nipples in her fingers. They
were swollen and dusky. I hunched a little closer and ran my
fingers over the tops of her thighs, ending just an inch away
from her public thatch. "Go on," I urged.
"She asked me if I'd be your slave for the night, the two of
you's slave. I wasn't sure what that meant, but somehow it made
me wetter."
She looked at me again and asked, "Know what I mean?"