Brooke nodded emphatically.
“I guess you’re right,” Christy said. “Besides, I could use a drink anyway. What’s so funny?”
“I was just comparing you to Wren,” I said. “She’d’ve argued. Or grumbled. Or sulked. Or something.”
“No kidding. I’m really glad she’s busy with school this quarter.” She glanced at the clock and figured the time in Knoxville. “Although… I hope she had a good weekend. She drives me crazy sometimes, but I still love her. Huh. I can’t believe I just said that.”
“Why not?” Brooke asked.
“Let’s put this conversation on pause and move to the patio,” I suggested. “With the appropriate beverages.”
“Yes, please.”
* * *
“Okay,” I said as I filled the girls’ cups, “where were we?”
“Hold on,” Christy said. She raised her cup and Brooke followed suit. They took a long drink together. My eyebrows crept a little higher with each gulp. The ice rattled in the girls’ empty cups when they finally lowered them.
“Who’s ready for a refill?” I asked facetiously.
“I am.” “Me.”
“Right.” I poured and then made a show of waiting, just in case.
“Funny, ha ha,” Christy said. She sank into a chair, and Brooke and I did the same. “Right,” Christy said, as if she hadn’t just downed a full cup of alcohol, “we were talking about Wren. I said I love her, but I can’t believe it was so easy.” She turned to Brooke to explain, “So, I used to think I could only love one person at a time. It seems ridiculous now, but I really believed it.”
“I must be strange,” Brooke said. “I don’t see a problem with it.”
“You weren’t raised like I was,” Christy said.
“Close enough. Except the Catholic part. Which reminds me—”
I cut her off with a headshake.
“Why not?”
“Now isn’t the time.”
“The time for what?” Christy asked.
“To gang up on you about birth control,” I said.
“Oh my gosh.” She gulped and took a long drink.
“If we’re going to gang up on her,” I said to Brooke, “let’s make it a gangbang instead.”
“Oh my gosh,” Christy repeated, but it was mostly for effect. Her eyes already shone with the effects of the alcohol—her metabolism wasn’t always a bad thing—and her nipples were faintly visible through her dress.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Brooke said to me. “I guess I just don’t understand why she’d ignore science in favor of religion.”
“I’m right here, you know,” Christy grumbled.
“Yeah, I know, Chris. But we’ve had this discussion before. If—”
I overrode her, “Let’s not have it again.”
Christy gave me a look of pure gratitude.
“Let’s just chill out instead,” I said. “Go for a swim. Maybe watch a movie.”
“Um…,” Christy said, “I think you forgot something.”
“What?”
“You know.”
“Oh, that,” I said, as if I’d just thought of it. “Yeah, of course. I’m going to fuck you both.”
Brooke looked surprised but not panicked.
“Speaking of which,” I added, “you’re wearing the wrong outfit.”
“Huh?”
“You still have your school uniform, right?”
“School uniform? We don—? Oh! You mean from Uni? Yeah, of course. But I told Chris already, I don’t know if they still fit. The skirts probably do, but…” She blushed. “I’m bigger up top now.”
“She’s lying,” Christy said. “She was big back then too.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Nuh-uh. I like my itty-bitty titties, Miss Melons.”
“And I like my melons,” Brooke shot back.
“I like ’em all,” I said before the friendly argument could escalate. “But I wanna see ’em and play with ’em. So, why don’t you change into your uniforms and show off a little?”
Brooke surprised me with a wry laugh. “I don’t think you’re going to like them as much as you think. They aren’t like the ones in movies and magazines.”
“The woman makes the outfit sexy,” I said, “not the other way around.”
She blushed.
“Still,” I suggested, “let’s spice ’em up a bit. Christy, no bra, no panties.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Brooke, no bra.”
“Hey,” Christy complained, “why’s she get to wear panties?”
“You’ll see.”
Brooke smirked.
“I’ll fix more drinks while you change,” I told them. Then I gave Brooke a significant look. “And don’t forget the stuff that goes with the thing.” Translation: bring the lube for the butt plug.
Christy scowled at the code words, but Brooke nodded that she’d understood.
I shooed them inside and toward the bedrooms. Our towels from the day before were sitting by the back door, along with our bags from the sex shop. I rummaged through them until I found the steel cock ring. My dick was semi-hard already, but I managed to get the ring on without too much trouble. I zipped up and arranged my rod so it wouldn’t bind when I sat down again. Then I went looking for a recipe for mai tais.
The liquor cabinet had a couple of bar manuals, so I picked one with pages that were wrinkled from spills. The one I wanted even had a helpful red stain on it. I had to hunt for a couple of ingredients—grenadine and orgeat syrup?—so I was still mixing when I heard the girls giggling in the living room.
Christy called into the kitchen, “We’re ready for detention, Mr. Hughes.”
“Yes, Miss Carmichael, come in.”
She stepped through the doorway and clasped her hands behind her back. Her stiff nipples showed through her white blouse, but Brooke had been right, the uniform wasn’t anything like I’d imagined. The skirt was pleated and plaid, but they were the only things it had in common with the fantasy schoolgirl costumes. It was knee-length and not the least bit sexy. Still, it would make a nice visual when it bunched around her waist while I buried my dick in her shaved pussy.
“You too, Miss O’Neill,” I said.
Brooke appeared from around the corner. Her skirt showed more leg because she was taller, but her blouse was even more revealing. The buttons strained to hold it together across her full breasts, and her pale skin showed where the placket stretched. My expression alone made her blush.
Christy grinned but then remembered her role. “I’m sorry we’re late, Mr. Hughes.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Let me finish this and we’ll start your detention.” I brandished the half-full measuring cup. “I normally don’t drink with students, but since you’re the only ones here…”
I finished the mai tais and ushered the girls toward the patio. Brooke grabbed the stack of towels on the way by. Outside, Christy grinned at the bulge in my trousers.
“Mr. Hughes, is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just a detention rod.” I refilled our cups and gestured at them. “Drink up.”
“Mmm, yum! Special detention juice.”
Brooke decided to play along, so she eyed the cup suspiciously. “Mr. Hughes, is there alcohol in this?”
“Uh-huh. It helps the detention go faster.”
“You won’t tell our parents, will you?”
“No, of course not. Here, let me top that off for you.”
“Are you trying to get us drunk?” Christy asked as innocently as she could.
“Why? Don’t you drink with your boyfriends?”
“We don’t have boyfriends. We’re pure and innocent.”
Brooke snorted into her drink. “I’m sorry,” she said as she wiped mai tai from her lips and nose. “This is like a bad porn script.”
“That’s because you have no imagination,” Christy sniffed.
I chuckled. “She’s sorta right. It is like a porno.”
“How would you know? You said you haven’t seen many.” All of a sudden she balled a fist and stomped her foot. “Ugh! I hate it when you do this. It’s always so much sexier in my head.”
“Sorry, Chris,” Brooke said immediately. “It’s my fault.”