How I Became a Polygamist

It's May, but the sun is scorching as if July has arrived. It's hot outside. My wife drops a subtle hint

— Get ready, we're going out to nature on Friday. You'll drive us to the shore.

Couldn't be a subtler hint.

— 'Us' meaning who?

— As if you don't understand. 'Us' means us. Tanya, me, and Marinka.

Got it. My family. Tanya is my younger sister. Marinka is a friend from kindergarten. Both are unmarried, single women. And so, one, by right of being a relative, and the other, by right of being a friend, ask me for any help without any embarrassment. And I have to go and help. However, it's worth

noting that while accepting male help almost as from a husband, they don't refuse to fulfill female family duties. They pay for any completed work without words by taking off their panties. It seems to me that my wife, if she doesn't know for sure, at least suspects the existence of my other two women. And it turns out I'm almost like that sultan Nikulin sang about. Among the advantages, I can note the different timings of my women's periods, which contributes to my peace of mind.

They've gathered as if on purpose. All three are somewhat similar in appearance. Same height, fair-haired, figures differ insignificantly. And the sisters even look like twins. Though Marinka's tits are a bit smaller, her hips are wider and her ass is bigger. There are some other differences. My wife shaves her pubes completely bald, not leaving a single hair. Marinka styles hers 'à la Athos's beard'. Tanya only removes excess hairs closer to her groin and trims the rest to a uniform length, short, like a recruit's haircut. All three haven't given birth, so everything else, I mean the vagina, is about the same size. Only Marinka's is located closer to her ass, which makes it most pleasant to fuck her doggy style, or with her legs bent to her shoulders. So that her pussy opens up.

Then you penetrate deep inside. She likes it. And my wife and sister, any way, as it happens. Besides, conditions aren't always suitable. I remember once we were at the dacha, I had to fuck Tanya in the raspberry bushes. The bushes are prickly, damn it, girls are walking nearby, picking berries. But what to do when both she and I are in the mood? It happens, such a spontaneous, swift feeling arises. And there have been many other cases. Like my wife at her mother's place, when many relatives were sleeping around in various states of drunkenness. Of course, we could have gone outside, but fucking standing up in the winter cold is in neither her nor my interests.

If it must be, it must be. The wife hinted, the husband made an effort. Correct behavior. The main thing is to hint in the right way. And so on Thursday I stopped by the meat market, bought meat for shashlik. In fairy tales, princesses are such ephemeral creatures, feeding on nectar and pollen from flowers. Mine can also consume nectar as a drink with meat. Though they prefer wine. Cognac is okay. And vodka goes down well too. And they devour meat no worse than an electric meat grinder. Only the pork ribs crunch on their teeth. That's why we don't have a dog, there'd be nothing to feed it. After my better half's teeth, even stray dogs don't react to the bones. Not even a smell remains. So I bought an indecent amount of meat. From experience, I know it can be too little, not enough, but too much, so that there are leftovers, that's rare. Same with alcohol. They're not driving, so they don't particularly restrain themselves with doses.

Friday evening. The car, with its engine sputtering, carries us to the resting spot. Quite far from the city, but deserted, quiet, and clean. We go there often. Sometimes I drive them there individually. Still, it's better to fuck friends in nature. You feel a unity with the progenitor of the human race. Here we are.

My girls started celebrating the trip to nature back in the car, for which I stopped a couple of times. The thirst was killing them. I can't, but they certainly can. And they arrived already cheerful. Started unpacking. I have one tent, we'll all sleep together, we're used to it. Just so I don't mix up one of the girls with my wife in the middle of the night. I can't imagine how she'd react to that. So we set up the tent, the awning, laid out our things. I went to gather firewood, and the girls laid out the self-setting tablecloth.

Going behind the car, which didn't particularly hide them, they changed into swimsuits, exposing their bodies to the sun, convincing me that a May tan is the healthiest. The tan, that is, knows best. Oh, if only such swimsuits existed in the times of my childhood and adolescence. Back then, a swimmer's body was more covered than exposed. But now, a couple of strings, a scrap of cloth on the pussy, and a couple of patches on the nipples. No room for imagination. Why fantasize when everything is in plain sight. Might as well walk completely naked. Cheaper. And who to be shy in front of? We're all family.

I don't understand these women. They hide, cover their bodies, squeal when, for example, you accidentally walk in somewhere, and they're there not just naked, but simply in panties. And then they'll undress completely, lie in front of you, in their birthday suit, present their pussy without embarrassment. Or like at the dacha, they love to steam in the bathhouse. They flash their bare asses, lying on the shelf, while I work them over with a venik. And they run out into the anteroom naked. But then they start wrapping themselves in sheets, as if their bodies could suffer from my gaze, like from Medusa's gaze. Strange logic, though. Well, God be with it, with logic.

Firewood gathered, the little fire is burning, the self-setting tablecloth is laid. Why self-setting? Well, take yourself what lies closer to you, or what you like. That's why it's self-setting. And we all gathered around the tablecloth in picturesque poses. And wine is poured into glasses. We don't like disposable tableware, we drag classic stuff with us. Even though they say disposable tableware is more convenient because you don't even have to wash it, we still prefer to eat and drink from normal stuff. Why wine? It's hot. We left the vodka for the evening. Like the shashlik. And now, a quick bite of what we grabbed from home.

Ate, rested, arranged in picturesque poses. Evening approaches, it's getting cool. Grumbling that they didn't even have time to get red, let alone tan, the girls stretched to change from swimsuits into warmer tracksuits. Went into the tent. It, poor thing, from the onslaught of such a horde, is shaking. Changed and went to the fire. And by the fire, a bottle of wine goes around in a circle. Remembered our youth, when we used to pass around a bottle of cheap wine, whatever money we scraped together. I'm turning the skewers—flipping them. Juice drips from the meat, falls into the coals, teases with smells. The girls are drooling, but patiently wait, having once and for all recognized my right to be called the shashlik guru. And here it is, the king of the summer country table. And some vodka to go with it.

I understand all those lions and tigers who, after gorging on meat, can sleep for days on end. Heaviness in the stomach doesn't allow unnecessary movement. And the conversation flows lazily. Besides, the girls are arguing about something of their own, girly. With drunken stubbornness, they try to outshout each other. Appeal to me. I'm full and tipsy, benevolently agree. With everyone. They get upset, start yelling at me. And I fully agree with that too. Just don't make me move.

Daydreaming. It's already dark. The girls got the urge to visit the bushes. Going alone into the dark—horror! What if a bogeyman grabs their bare ass? They may be tipsy, but they still have some sense. So it's better to go under guard anyway. And who is our guard? No need to guess. Here I am, the hero and protector. No, they should have gathered all together, I'd escort them all at once and that's it. First, a pair of Marinka and my wife, and later, as soon as I brought them back, sister Tanya wanted to pee. I don't just escort them, I light the way with a flashlight. What if some drunk heifer stumbles, breaks a leg, just gets bruised, what to do then? So better to shine a light. And when they, my wife and Marinka, baring their asses, squatted, I shone the light on them. And I cut off their squealing with words about how in the dark a tick, usually afraid of light, could freely jump on their asses. They themselves are afraid of ticks. Their asses shine, reflecting the flashlight beam.

I'd love to fondle them right now. Not allowed! But I want to. Tanya heard all this and didn't even squeak when I shone the light on her ass, even highlighting the stream of urine watering the grass. She herself asked to shine better, to scare away the ticks. Oh, I'd love to fondle Tanya's ass too. And even more than just fondle. And I have condoms, brought just in case. More precisely, they're never out of stock, the supply is constantly replenished. And often by the care of the girls themselves.

Sat for a long time. The babes completely stiffened up, they're loose. My wife and Marinka gave up first, crawled into the tent. Tanya and I stayed sitting a bit longer. Snuggled up to each other, covered with one jacket, sitting. Watching the fire, talking. I'm slowly groping her tits, slipping my hand under the jacket. She hisses that they're not asleep in the tent yet, rustling, talking. But what's it to me? Let them not sleep. They'll fall asleep soon. Don't I know them. Slipped my hand under the waistband of her pants from the ass side. Tanya didn't put on panties, thinking the suit was enough. And rightly so. You should give your body a rest in nature. Her ass is ice-cold. Which I informed Tanya about. She offered to warm it up, since I don't like it. But how do you warm it through pants? If only she took off her pants, sat on my lap with her bare ass, and I'd also be without pants, then I'd warm it up in no time. Otherwise, no way. She thought and decided. Only inquired about my possession of a rubber product. The one that protects against unwanted pregnancy. Against various diseases. And gives the poss

ibility to do without washing. And in camping conditions, that's an undeniable plus.

A wet and warm pussy slid onto the cock, familiarly taking it prisoner. And began to torture it, like a partisan, now slipping off it, now driving it into the darkness and heat of a tight cell. And ramming its forehead, that is the head, against the barrier with a running start. And all this with a twist. Sitting facing me, hugging my neck, bouncing, and her tits, which fell out of the jacket I unzipped, pressed against my face, themselves pushing the nipples into my mouth. And now Tanechka is floating. More precisely, she arrived. Biting my neck like a vampire, she quieted down, barely trembling. Her pussy contracted and fluttered, pushing out its reserves of fluid.

Tanechka came, but I need a bit more. Putting her on her feet, I bent her over. She leaned her hands on her knees, stuck out her rear. It's so pleasant to hold onto such an ass. And fucking in that position is a real pleasure. And I quickly dealt with my problems. While I was pulling off the condom, Tanya pulled up her pants. More precisely, tried to. She's cunning, took one pant leg off, but didn't with the other. Or didn't have time. And now, holding onto me with one hand, trying to get her foot into the pant leg. Kneeling in front of her, I helped deal with the problem.

Crawled into the tent. Lay down. Tanya closer to the girls, and I on the very edge, hugging Tanya and pressing against her. Everything innocent, everything within family relations. And what if I slipped my hand into her pants, found her pubic mound and pressed my palm against it, so what. My hand was frozen.

Foggy morning, damp morning... That's how the song goes, I think. But we have the sun scorching in full force in the morning. While the girls slept, I stirred up the fire, boiled the kettle. Vodka is good in the evening, but tea is best in the morning. And here they are, crawling out of the tent. And how, looking at them, not to remember comrade Gleb Zhiglov's words: what a mug you have, Sharapov! Barely crawled out, running to the bushes. Of course! Fluid demands an exit. And then, without even rinsing their mugs, even though water is right there, a whole river nearby, to the fire, to the tea. Drank some hot stuff, finally woke up. Heated the kettle of water and all together to the bushes to wash their asses. And then, after washing their asses, to the river. Now they can brush their teeth and put their mugs in order. It warmed up significantly and the girls got rid of their suits, replacing them with the strings of swimsuits.

— How's the water? — one of them asked.

I replied that the water is awesome, one thing is bad—now I can't even find anything to pee with. Everything shriveled up from the cold, leaving just hair. They got interested. And they, the unbelievable drunks, decided to check if I was lying to them. The chase after the game by the whole pack, with me as the game, ended with the hunters' victory. Caught, pinned down, piled on, pressing down arms and legs, pulled down my underwear. My wife, my beloved woman, in whom I had such hope and whom I trusted so much, betrayed my hopes and took the most active part in my capture. And not only that, when they caught me, she plopped her ass on my chest, also pinning my arms. Marinka sat on my legs. And Tanya, the bitch, to whom I had just given so much strength last night, satisfying her passion, pulled down my underwear. Squatted, examining, the near-sighted pussy

— Oh, girls! It's true, nothing's left! Everything's hidden!

Marinka suggested Tanya suck it, maybe it'll stand up. And, grabbing her head, pushed her nose right into my pubic area. Tanya jumped up, indignantly yelled that Marinka, if she suggested such a thing, could suck it herself. As if they haven't sucked. It's even funny. Each considers herself innocent. Only she, that is Tanya, doubts Marinka's talents. Even she can't revive such a frozen body. And anyway, she probably doesn't take on sucking herself because she doesn't know how to do it at all. Now Marinka got pissed and yelled that she, if not a master, is definitely a candidate for master. And my wife calmed them down, suggesting they not argue, but prove visually who is better. Tanya snorted, like she's not going to prove anything.

And Marinka accepted the challenge. And without changing her sitting position on my legs, she simply leaned over and took the cock in her mouth. Especially since the lawful wife and, therefore, owner of this very cock, permitted it. And what reaction should follow in response to the caress of female lips and tongue? The correct reaction. My body hadn't warmed up yet, but the cock rose, filled to the brim with strength and courage. Marinka proudly showed Tanya the achieved result. And with a sigh of regret noted that such a hard-on is going to waste. To mount it and enjoy. My wife got indignant.

— Give you a chance to suck, and you're ready to bite it right off.

Then they started arguing about whether fucking without love is possible or not. If, for example, one of them gives it to me—is that love? Or if I fuck someone. And how to evaluate that? In the sense that Marinka just sucked my cock, so is that cheating on my part or not? And so on in the same vein. And, I note, all this while sitting on me. And I got tired. I pleaded

— Ladies! Dears! You'd get off me and then discuss these problems.

Heeding the voice of reason, not wishing me death from being crushed by such bodies, they got off. And calmly walked away. Then I got indignant

— Hey! Hey! Where are you going? And who's going to clean up after themselves?

Stopped in confusion, looking: what does he want?__P_