Weekend Travels

Mike's back.  Not permanently; he's making a layover on the job hunt, which he says is going about as well as can be expected in the current economic climate.  I translate that to mean that he's not having a hell of a lot of luck finding anything other than waiter work, and he's not interested in being a waiter.  Not that I blame him, with all the high-priced learnin' he's got.

This is obviously a good thing even if it's also a bad things because I love having Mike around and have been reaping the whirlwind of his affections regularly.  Sveta is insanely jealous, although I keep hearing hints from her that she's got something I can be jealous about too.  She may want to tell me in person.  I'm okay with that idea as long as it means she'll be here in person soonest (and also that she tells me while my mouth is full, since I don't want her talking with hers full).  Totally selfless, that's me.  Mike said he might swing up to visit her when he leaves, and I want to go in the worst way, but I couldn't because that would mean I'd have to find some other way home since Mike won't be coming back.  Maybe I can swing it.

Anyway, Mike and I have friends who invited us (and Sheri, actually, but she wasn't available) to celebrate their one-year anniversary with them last weekend with a bunch of other people, house party, swimming pool, all that good crap.  They actually rented several houses (cottages really, but with sufficient sleeping space) and although I was hesitant to do it because of the distances involved and my general lack of time to do much of anything, Mike talked me into it.  I wanted to go to see some people and to congratulate my friends, but I didn't want to party.  Ah well.

Of course, the timing worked out perfectly (for "perfectly" read the exact opposite) and I was ragging the whole trip, which pretty much removed one of my social options right off the bat.  As it turned out, the party was large and not my scene at all (I'm not a big party person, really, particularly with a lot of people and nothing to do but drink) and most of the people there were unavailable anyway.  I'm getting ahead of myself and I don't want to cast too much of a pall over the weekend.

We did stop at this wonderful little rest area on the interstate on the way up (I'm sounding like a terrible travel brochure now) with a scenic overlook that rather inspired us.  I don't like to drive in skirts, but I wish I had because it would have made things easier.  As it was, we found a secluded spot, pulled our collective pants down (now there's an idea whose time has come) and Mike fucked my ass a bit awkwardly because our legs were trapped together by pulled-down waistbands.  The breeze was cool (thank God it cooled down a bit over the weekend), the sky was blue, the clouds were white, the birds were singing, and the cock was hard and satisfying sliding in and out of my anus, especially after we got into the rhythm and were past the initial awkwardness.

Mike knew I was bleeding, so in the interests of neatness more than anything else (he knows I'm not that big a fan of being fucked while bleeding unless cleanup is immediate and thorough) he just did mostly clit work with his fingers while he took me hard, and I don't know what other people who stopped there might have heard but no one looked at us askance when we came out of the bushes.  Maybe they wished they could have joined us.  Cum oozed out into my panties throughout the rest of the trip, which started out pleasant but finally I had to pull over again and clean myself up a bit, then despite really, really wanting to, I discouraged Mike from spoiling my clean-up efforts by leaving another load in my ass.  That was really tough.  Basically, all I'd wanted that day was to stay home and make love in the comfort of my own bed.  Ah well.  The panties were sacrificed to cum cleanup and wound up in the back seat of my car (where they are still, since I forgot to take them out again at the end of the trip; I don't want to think about how disgusting they are right now).  I went commando for the rest of the trip, which wasn't as pleasant as it could have been because of having to sit in the car.  One thing panties were made for was car trips.  Much more comfortable, at least to me.

We got there, and apparently it was 5 o'clock somewhere because drinks were already being had.  Big drinking crowd, this.  I had a drink or two because there wasn't much else to do and I was thirsty, plus I kind of wanted to see if maybe getting a bit tipsy might help improve my mood.  Sadly, no dice.  I was tired after the long drive and I was pissy because I knew I probably wouldn't be getting any.  I know, some gals might have taken the opportunity to suck some cock, but I wasn't up for that, even if it had been on offer.  As I said, my ideal would have been me and Mike, still at home, still in bed, stuck together by the juices of amore.

There was celebration, but I'll draw the curtain on that because it was your basic party stuff only with wedding overtones.  It seemed like all the people there were married and younger than I was, which wasn't true but made me feel old although not in a rush to get married.  There were a few singles, but no one for me, plus, remember, the rag.  I'm not going to ask a total stranger into the pool if there's red tide in there.  My social agenda, therefore, was somewhat stilted.  I think it would have been anyway though; I didn't get the real sense that any of the very few single guys were interested in me, and the bi ladies didn't appear to be in attendance at all.

Mike tried to cheer me up, convince me to have more fun, even copped a few feels, but these were not people who knew anything about our family life, so I put the kibosh on that.  The only way I was having any of it would have been if he'd come with me to our assigned room, and he didn't want to leave the party.  And, to be honest, I wasn't feeling that sexy; I was sober in a room of partiers, I was ragging, and no one seemed to give a shit.  I spent most of the time talking to the few people I did know, which was nice enough, but there were too many other people.  I'm bitching again.  At a certain point, Mike gave up on me and moved on to greener pastures, bu which I mean he got a little drunk and started hitting on this older woman.  This older, married woman.  Older than me, anyway; probably Sheri's age.  I don't have anything against him going after her, really, but it did make me jealous and there was little or nothing I could do about it.  Her husband wasn't there and according to Mike she had an "open marriage" so whatever.  He's not a home-wrecker, and I would have been jealous if he'd been hitting on a single guy, so I don't even know why I mention her age or marital status.

I went to my assigned bed in one of the cottages at a certain point when the party had pretty much devolved into lots of drinking and not much else because I was just tired and didn't want to watch other people have fun while seemingly being unable to do so myself.  It was either be a downer at the party or in my bed, and I chose discretion.  About an hour later, as I was falling asleep, Mike and the woman came in, all over each other (Mike was assigned to sleep in the same room, I suppose on the assumption that we wouldn't mind rather than that we'd like to be in the same room for sex).  She saw me and said something, to which he replied, "She's asleep and she doesn't care."  I almost told him I wasn't and I did, but they had nowhere else to go and while I was really jealous and kind of pissy at this point, I was still polite.  So I stayed quiet.  Others might judge me harshly, but it was hardly the first time I'd been in a room with Mike while he had sex.  Even with another person.  Even with someone I didn't know.

I wanted more than anything to "wake up" and offer to join in and see what happened, but I didn't.  I was a wuss.  Instead, I got to lie there and listen as Mike fucked this woman seventeen ways to Sunday.  She was either really into it or faking, and I suspect the former (he's my brother, I have to suspect the former).  They tried to be quiet at first but once they got into it, she was moaning every time he thrust.  He fucked her once, then ate her out for what seemed like hours, then started fucking her again.

I was insanely jealous of this bitch.  Not the good kind of jealousy either; I wanted her dead.  In the cold light of morning I don't feel so good about that, but at the time it was a seething pot of jealousy and hatred and intense horniness that drove me crazy.  I even rolled over at a certain point, when it sounded like they were too into it to care, and took a look at the action.  She was nothing.  A bit pudgy, droopy breasts, flabby thighs; not in my league at all.  Or so I told myself at the time.  It didn't help.  If he'd come back alone, I would have cheerfully let him fuck my ass all night if he wanted.  But no.

The next day, I was tired (I finally got to sleep while they were still at it by passing out), grumpy, hormonal, and still horny.  But I managed to cut off my nose to spite my face by being incredibly cool to Mike, even though the woman had left and he was obviously perfectly willing to help me cope with at least one of my problems.  We could have had a nice morning, but instead I was a jerk and didn't talk to him.

Finally, on the drive home, he asked me, "You were awake last night, weren't you?"

And it all came out, all the jealousy and resentment and nerves and all of it.  We pulled over (we were still on smaller roads at that point) and yelled at each other.  Why rehash the stupid shit we said.  I was angry at him for doing something perfectly okay, and he was angry at me because I was angry at him and thus had left him no option but to pursue the thing for which I was angry at him.  Mostly my fault in hindsight.  Perhaps "mostly" might even be a very charitable understatement.

Then we drove some in angry silence.  I think both of us were done being pissed, but we didn't want to admit it.  Finally, I asked him, "So how was she?"

"Fat, old, and loose," he said with a slight grin.  I could tell he was exaggerating at the very least.  Possibly outright lying.  While I might have put her down in the looks department while I was mad and tired, I doubt highly that she was loose, and she certainly wasn't old or fat, just a bit more fleshy than perhaps is my taste.  But he was trying to make me feel better.

"So why did you fuck her then?"

"To make you jealous."  Now he was grinning.  I risked life and limb to punch him in the arm and then give him a kiss, then swerved back onto the road.  I'm really glad the police weren't watching.  And that there were no small children present.

So we made up.  And at a rest stop on the way back, we made up properly.  I confess I still had a lingering resentment and almost didn't want to let him put his cock anywhere near me until he at least took a shower and washed the bitch off.  Not proud of that.  Ordinarily, I couldn't care less who Mike fucks.  I cheerfully take sloppy seconds.  In the end, fortunately, I let him kiss me, and forgot all about anything else, and his cock probed my ass and then slid in.  I pressed hard and came on him.  It was a pent-up orgasm, like I'd been holding it in, and after it was done the next one was no struggle at all, like I'd worked out something and now could cum easily and freely.

Thus, my weekend trip (in case you were wondering, I had Mike's computer with me and he let me check things on it, which is why I was able to still be connected) was okay, at the end.  I had not the most wonderful party on record, but I got to see some people I hadn't seen in ages.  And when we got home, the feminine curse had all but stopped to the point where we took a shower (that felt great, just to be clean) and Mike gave my little pink pussy a nice long wash before thoroughly plundering its depths until I was crying his name.

Having spent all that time talking about family drama, I'm not totally sure why I told this story, except that it was kind of sexy and interesting.  I've had worse weekends, and I'm not complaining.  If anything, I'm somewhat ashamed of my feelings and actions.  I try hard not to be a jealous person, which is important in my life, but in this case I failed.  Let it be an object lesson to all; even if you're polymorphous perverse (or whatever the hell I am) and don't believe in monogamy, you can still get jealous.  Be on your guard.  It's not a healthy feeling.  But Mike's back and we're not really angry at each other, and I get at least a week before he has to head out again, so in the balance, I could give a shit about the rest of it.