Two Irish Girls Pt. 03: Almost Normal

The reader is encouraged to read Parts 1 and 2 first. As with actual fucking, it helps to know your partners first.

*****

Afterwards, when we're done and spent, and lying together in Lizzie's bed, six legs tangled together, sweat cooling off our skin in the night breeze through an open window, Tess moves a hand languorously across Lizzie's chest to rest in the bony space between her breasts. Pale Irish flesh of her hand on the paler skin of my cousin.

(Come inside me, little cousin, it's okay, I want you to

And

Now, Tommy, now, now, now)

Tess looking up at the ceiling, saying to both of us:

"Well, kids, sure that was almost normal, wasn't it?"

*

A night before, in the same room. Two Irish girls sitting on the window seat just to the side of this bed, their legs stuck out the window lightly touching in the summer air. The two of them sharing a cigarette.

Liz saying, "It's crazy, right? It's like, sick almost. I mean, I shouldn't even be thinking about this.

And Tess: "Nihil humani alienum puto."

Liz: "What the fuck?"

"Latin. This feller Terence, Wrote plays. It means, Nothin' that humans can do seems off to me. More or less.'

"I don't know Latin."

"Ah, yeh should. Lotta wisdom in the old fuckers. What he's sayin' here is just that, there's nothin' wrong. Nothin' you can do. Oh, killin' someone, I suppose, doin' violence to others, o' course. But, sex, girl, there's nothing wrong with any of it, all the rules are bullshit."

"But he's my cousin, Tess. First cousin."

"So?"

"I mean, genetics, right? That's why people don't ..."

"Ah, Christ, girl. You're not making babies with him. And even if you were, it makes no bloody difference until you get down three or four generations. The two of you wouldn't have a kid with one eye in the middle of his forehead."

"But, like the royal families in Europe, they were all hemophiliacs, right?"

"Well, yeah, but they'd been doin' it with cousins for a couple hundred years. That was messed up. But you and him, a wank, a shag or two. Nothing wrong there."

Liz plucks the cigarettes from Tess's lips, takes a long drag.

"But what if I want more than that?"

"Then that's what you want."

"Well it'd sure complicate Thanksgivings in the Murphy house. 'Oh, here's my new boyfriend, Cousin Mary's kid.'"

"Well, there's another reason why we don't have Thanksgiving over in Ireland. Makes it so much easier to fuck your cousin."

*

And again, the next night, after we'd all fucked. Tess, one hand on Lizzie's breast, the other moving slowly along my flaccid, cunt-slicked dick. Whispering, "See, I made up me mind a long time ago, I wouldn't let the priests or nuns ever tell me, on the pains of hell, what I'd let anyone put in my fanny, or in me mouth, or even stuff up me backside. And there was no kind of sex I wouldn't have. And now I'm 27, I think I've done alright on that score. Makes a nice Irish girl like me a bit of a hoor, but even so. I suppose it's easier now to make a list of what I haven't had it off with than who I have. I mean, horses, dogs, cats, sheep, cows. That covers the domesticated animals of Ireland, I think. And I've yet to corrupt a member of the clergy. And I haven't done me brothers or me cousins. But that's only because the brothers are all pencil-dicks, and me cousins are, for the most part, all retards. So this is a sort of first for me too, y'know. A threesome with a pair of kissin' cousins."

*

And here's what happened: Tess pulled me by my t-shirt to the bed, leaned toward me, was the first to kiss me. I taste smoke and beer on her tongue. Then she pulls me further with her finger (it isn't hard; I go where she takes me) until I half fall past her and nearly onto my cousin. Whose hands find my face and framing me, looks at me, eye to eye.

This is a dare.

This is not a dare.

Behind me, Tess's hand on my back, sliding downward, then upward under my shirt. Her skin on my skin.

"Is this okay, Tommy?" Liz asks me. "Are you okay with you and me?"

"Yeah," I tell her. "I think so, Lizzie. I am."

And touch her.

I touch her face, her neck, the breasts beneath her t-shirt. Her ribs, hip, the outside curve of her thigh. Through clothes, she is under them, her skin, her self just a piece of fabric away.

While Tess, our chaperone, eases my shirt up over my shoulders. I lift briefly my hands away from Liz to let it happen and then return to her. I lift her t-shirt up and over her upstretched arms. Her breasts, bra-bound, rise and fall with the motion.

Thought of water running across her breasts, her nipples in moonlight.

While Tess, behind us, complains, "Jesus, as always with you two, I guess I'll have to undress myself."

I turn to her as she does. The freckled paleness of her skin beneath her t-shirt. Her bra just a couple pieces of black cotton over the tiny things beneath. With her nubbbed head, she seems boyish, dykey, strangely lovely. Reaches behind herself, unclasps. As, on my other side, does my cousin.

And we three collapse, each half naked, onto the bed.

I am washed by them into a sea of flesh, of breasts. I am touched, aroused, nurtured by these two women, these Irish girls. We perform the ungainly ritual of pulling off pants. The raising of legs, bum, the kicking off of sneakers, trousers. I am the only one wearing socks; I pull them almost off with the opposite toes. Tess finishes for me and at last we are naked, I'm back to ridiculously hard in their presence. There's a rich patch of auburn between one girl's legs. And Lizzie, my sweet cousin Lizzie, is shaved as promised. She is made of folds of flesh, pink cleft open to my hand. I touch the inside of her, she is damp silk.

And her hand touching, finally, my cock. Fingers wrapping, moving. I rise up, fall back on the bed, my head nestled between Tess's bony thighs. She moves above me, settles down across my face, says, choke-voiced as my tongue finds her, "Well, if you don't mind, if you you're not - oh god - otherwise distracted."

While below, another pair of thighs engulfs me and Lizzie's hand guides me inside her body, pushes down on me until I am buried in her. Tess's taste floods my mouth, I find the soft rich edge of her vagina, the hard nub of her clitoris, I feel her tendons and the sharp bones at the bottom of her hips as she squeezes me; and Liz, pitching forward, supports herself with a hand splayed on my chest and rides, pushing, taking me deeper into her than I could ever think possible. I am surrounded by her, my bottom half is lost in her, while my face, mouth, lips, tongue, taste, lick, explore Tess as she grinds down onto me.

When we come, it's a cascade. First Liz, contracting inside, around me, squeezing and squeezing me, then Tess falling forward into Lizzie's arms, who holds her as she shudders above and onto me, lifting the silky-sour bottom of her off me because the sensation is too intense, then coming back for more. And me, while my tongue, compliant, finds Tess again and delivers her to a soft diminuendo of pleasures, listening distantly as Lizzie tells me that now, Tommy, now, now, now, exploding finally into my sweet crazy, vulnerable cousin, whom I've always crushed on, whose breasts dripped water in the moonlight. A fierce, deep, unseen pulsing out of me and into her. I push upward, fighting gravity, trying, it seems, to reach some core of her before it's over and I'm spent and we are all a mess of flesh and legs and tangled arms and I am soaked with both of them. Which is when Tess, our chaperone, our instigator, our guide, our lover, rolls to one side and, detaching from my face, crawls slowly across the twisted coverlet to fall beside us and put her hand, like a mother's benediction over Lizzie's heart and another on my cum soaked, cunt soaked detumescent dick. And whispers, breathless, up to the ceiling, to us all:

Well, kids,

sure, that was almost normal, wasn't it, though?