“I have waited for the rest of the story for a year now,” I complain.

“What story?” you ask, but I suspect you know very well. It’s toward the end of a sunny windless June day, rare on the North Coast. We sit watching the sun sink below the horizon after a slow, sensuous day outside mostly naked behind our tall boxwood and rosemary hedge, getting muddy in the garden, weeding around the pond, washing each other on the pond’s sandy bank, just loafing on a picnic blanket with the wide Pacific glittering to infinity in front of us. Echoes of ‘first times’ in the air.

“Oh, Ella, you know which story, you tease. You have been avoiding telling me what you did ‘that night,’ the night I took your brother to bed, for almost half a century!”

“I’ll only tell you if you’ll admit you and Ben got together without me after ‘that night.’”

“Guilty as charged. But you go first.”

You look off into space for a long moment, relishing the coming story, and then begin: “You know, after dinner, Richard followed us willingly into the backyard, and we sat in the gazebo finishing that second beautiful bottle of wine. He was antsy, wondering when you and Ben were going to join us. Alice, ever forward, said, ‘We shouldn’t wait. I think Grace has plans for Ben.” Both of us were flirting with Richard, and while he was worried for his wingman, he was flirting right back, being very diplomatic about showing no favorites.

“We finished the bottle, and I went in to get something more to drink. On my way back I picked up a soft car blanket – could it be this one?”

“I think yes,” I say impatiently, eager for the story.

You grin and reach over to kiss my ear, knowing that makes me wriggle and lust. “I found it in your parents’ back mud room, and spread it on that soft lawn on the gazebo’s south side. ‘Come get comfortable with me,’ I called. Alice led Richard out of the gazebo by the hand, and I noticed her blouse was unbuttoned almost to her navel, her alabaster abundance bulging over the top of her lacy white bra. I had deliberately ‘forgotten’ my own bra, and in my brother’s spirit was also ‘going commando.’

“By this time, I think Alice and I had concluded independently that what was good for Grace and Ben might just as well be good for us, the only confound being that there were two of us: either a problem, or Lucky Richard! I hiked my skirt up and sat cross-legged facing Richard, knowing that he’d be unable to avoid seeing my nether charms. An unseasonably warm night, like tonight – the weather as well as, you know, the sensuality in the air.”

“I remember,” I murmur, while snaking my hand up between your legs and gently brushing my fingertips over your escutcheon.

“Shall I go on?”

“Oh, Goddess! You’re kidding. You can’t stop now!”

“You neither!” you enthusiastically concur. I know that I needn’t much more than suggest a touch and still, after all these decades, you cream. In my mind’s eye, I see the scene you’re recalling as vividly as if it was last week. You laugh and continue, “That’s pretty much what Alice said when she saw my dark pink labia beckoning! ‘Enjoying the view?’ she asked Richard, who was having a hard time deciding where to look: my erect nipples through my sheer blouse, Alice’s generous boobs spilling over the top of her scanty bra, or my thatch. His anatomy was giving him trouble in his tight jeans. ‘You know,’ Alice the instigator teased, ‘it’s completely private here, and the night is warm. We wouldn’t mind if you got yourself more comfortable.

“At first Richard didn’t understand, so Alice moved to help, unbuckling and fumbling the buttons of his 501s. Getting the idea – he was a quick study, you remember – he skinned out of his pants as if they were on fire, revealing American Flag boxers prominently tented in front. Alice took that moment to unhook her front-latching bra, and one-upped me . . .”

“You mean, she TWO upped you,” I couldn’t resist commenting.

“Yes, but not for long, because I shed my blouse, and lay back on the rug, contriving as I did to hike my short skirt up even further. Richard was transfixed, mumbling to himself, ‘this isn’t happening. This canNOT be happening to me.” Even inside the star-spangled tent, it was obvious that Richard was, shall I say, handsomely endowed; not outlandish or scary, but of considerable interest. At this point, I think Alice and I had become of one mind: this boy would need a little encouragement, but not much; we could probably manage things so both of us got the rodgering we assumed you were getting.

“‘Richard,’ Alice said primly, as only sweet Alice could, ‘May I touch your penis. I have never…’ His eyes rolled back into his head, and I don’t think he fainted, but he fell onto his back with his tent pole trapped and sticking straight up. I couldn’t resist: ‘Ali, I think you can take that as a Yes.’ She knelt and deftly guided his erection out of its trap in his boxers, and slipped them off. By then, he was on his elbows looking at his rampant prick and Alice in disbelief. Seizing the moment, and his chubby cock, I slurped his handsome glans between my lips: my first fellatio! He groaned, and I sucked a generous emission of pre-seminal fluid: a little sweet, viscous, like pussy juice.

“You can probably imagine what happened after that. Must I tell more? I’m getting too hot. Maybe we should go inside?”

I reply, a little testily, “Of course I can imagine, but having you tell is so much more thrilling. El, you seem to remember as much as I did about my first.”

– o –

I’m afraid the story takes a hiatus at this point, while we relocate and tend to each others’ needy pussies. Who says old gals aren’t sexy? Remembering those early times seldom fails to heat us. Your skin, even with its inevitable elder’s wrinkles, feels like silk, and in the semi-dark of our bedroom, when I touch you, it’s your thirty-year-old body I feel. Isn’t love magical?

Equilibrium reestablished, hungers temporarily satisfied, lounging comfortably together, you pick up the thread: “Richard knew what he was doing, and adjusted quickly to the asymmetry, one sturdy cock, two inviting cunts. At first, he lavished his attention evenly, aided by the fact that he had two hands, and Alice and I provided backup, so to speak. We discovered that time-honored threesome, one of us firmly astride his cock, the other riding his mouth, the two of us fondling and kissing each other. What a nice arrangement that is!

“Like Ben, he’d previously taken a maidenhead, and meant to be more attentive this time. Alice was magnificently patient because at first Richard was more interested in getting inside me, but seeing her hands on me, her sweet curves, he was eager to plunge his juicy cock into her as well. (And I do mean ‘well.’) I can still summon a vision of their contrasting skin, his dark cock gently pressing between her swollen lips, entering her soggy cunt for the first time, her moan as he encountered some resistance, and then his sliding deep into her thinly covered mound, hesitantly at first, and then thrusting with more force as she relaxed and her moans became pleasurable hums.

“We played together for what seemed like forever, but it was probably only two hours. Richard proved himself to be indefatigable, but curiously reluctant to spill inside us. I’d feel him swelling, on the verge, and then he’d pull out, take a few breaths, then refocus on Alice. Gradually, his attention settled on her, or I should say, in her. We were all half sleepy as well as satisfied, since we’d managed to despunk Richard at least twice, and were all sticky from our own juices and his abundant cum. Finally, he appeared to fall asleep with his cock hilted inside of her. She smiled at me wearily, and closed her eyes, so I folded the blanket over them and came into the house, looking for you.”

“I remember,” I confirm. “Ben and I were dozing, spooned, after I had drained him thoroughly. I was surprised and pleased to discover that young men have so much spunk! Our exertions had moved me to the edge of the bed, so you climbed in behind him and put your arms around us both. He seemed to be blissed past noticing, but I welcomed your arrival, and squeezed your hands on my boobs for a few delicious minutes before extricating myself to go pee and wash myself. I took my time, brushing my hair in the mirror while examining my face and body to see if I could tell I was changed. When I came back, you were where I’d left you and seemed to be asleep, closely spooned and beautiful together. I was charged with energy, and wanted to record my churning thoughts, so I covered you, fetched my journal, and went down to the dining table. My journal’s here, and I’d like to read to you what I wrote that night, if you’re willing?”

“Bound to be better’n TV, I’ll betcha!” say you.

– o –

From Grace’s journal, August 2nd, 1969

I see no change in the mirror, although my crotch being all abuzz may make me walk a little funny. In the last few hours, I have changed. I can feel his juices slowly trickling out of me and down between my thighs: a nice feeling if a little sloppy. I feel uncommonly fluid when I move. Am I ‘more womanly’? Easy to imagine his brave little swimmers working their way up inside me.

I’m also feeling my period coming, as if all the thrusting and orgasming set things in motion ‘down there.’ A welcome feeling, as it allays any fears I might have about conceiving. I am definitely ready to fuck, but hold the pregnancy, please! I was so afraid my ‘visitor’ would come before tonight and spoil my defloration plans. Thank you, body . . . for so much.

Every book I ever read, even those written by women, uses words like ‘penetrate’ and ‘impale` but those words simply don’t fit my experience just now. Try ‘engulf’ and ‘contain’. And ‘blend.’ I can’t wait to talk to Mom about this.

With Ben – ‘Tiny’ (although I am now qualified to say, that’s hardly le mot juste)– as my only, I’m in no position to judge, but the sheer mutualism of our love-making surprised me, and is still making me glow: If that’s a fair sample of what sex between a woman and a man is like, count me in. Much as I like what Alice and especially Ella and I do together, there is something very right and, well, fulfilling! about taking a firm velvety-hard penis inside me.

I guess I wondered if I was just homosexual, to use the crudest possible term. If love-making with men is anything like what just happened with Ben, and with the compelling intensity I enjoy with my adopted sisters, I think the right term for me is, simply, ‘sexual.’

– o –

A long pregnant pause when I finish reading and see you staring at me. Even after half a century together, we can surprise each other, often with insights we’ve harbored all along.

“Wow,” you say, “My head’s spinning with the rightness of that perspective shift. I like those words so much better.” Another pause while you fix me with your intense gaze. “I just always accepted terms like ‘prick’ and ‘stab’ and images of swords and domination. I wish, now, you’d shared.”

Another short pause, and then you take a surprising plunge: “Let me confess something I never told anyone, something that happened that same night, and that changed my sexual identity, and the paths of our lives. Are you ready for another revelation?”

“Oh, Ella, my long-time love, do you really need to ask?” and I give you a thorough kiss.