That's My Girl

Chet, his mother June, and his partner Mark, were chattering elsewhere in the ballroom. Chet and Mark had flown up from The City with us. What a yakfest!

"More like she snagged me. About the only say I had in the matter was to say Yes."

Willowy pale June came up and wrapped her arms around hubby Brad.

"Sure, our Jen can be rather forceful when she's onto something. Remember the time she decided the town water tower in Sandpoint would make a good UFO beacon?"

Lean black older sister Lynette joined us and slapped June's shoulder.

"Don't you go telling too many stories, now. It's too late to scare this guy off but you could still make him pretty nervous." She shone a Cheshire Cat grin at us.

Small Hmong youngest sister Susanne slipped her tidy arm into mine.

"Well, if he gets nervous enough, I could always try to relax him or something," she smirked. She ran tan dark fingers along my biceps. "Nice package!" Susy was only two years younger than Tasha but acted like a seductive teenybopper.

Tasha came to the rescue (or something) and took my other arm.

"No way, baby doll, you'll have to wait in line. I've got dibs on this hunk." My step-wife flicked her thumb against Susanne's nose. "Just cool it for now, hear?"

Lynette kept grinning. "Hmmm, do I sense a three-dimensional relationship here?"

Jenna slinked up to me. She had left Lily with Momma and a few score other sisters and cousins. She gently separated Susanne from my other arm and took it herself.

"You sense rightly, oh my big sister. And next year, we'll have more babies to celebrate. And who knows what else?"

This news wasn't too disturbing here. Much of Idaho was Mormon country, and more than a few Fundamental LDS harems were reputedly in the vicinity. Plural marriage was not totally freakish in these wild lands. And for the growing Ronk family, at least, there was no question of non-consent or cradle-robbing.

Hmmm, were my wives hinting that others of their 'sisters' might be welcome? Damn!

Large loose Latino cousin Jaime shook his finger at me with what I hoped was a mock-serious scowl.

"Don't you go stealing all our womenfolk, buddy. Ya gotta leave a few for the rest of us lonely guys."

Jaime broke the mood by smiling. "Or at least, ya gotta share them!"

Yeah, I met the dozen or so adopted siblings, and their families, and countless cousins, in overwhelming numbers and numbing name lists. I swear, I need a memory chip implant. Burn all those names and faces into a ROM so I won't forget.

And of course, I met Momma (Ethyl) and Papa (Nate).

Momma's health was not great -- congestive heart failure would take her before long -- but she was bright and sharp. She was obviously still the heart and soul of this large adopted family. What Momma said, went.

Papa was physically strong but was increasingly lost to Alzheimers, and rarely spoke. I did not quite know how to read him. Sometimes he looked at me with a strange expression, especially after my name was mentioned. What thoughts and memories were being triggered?

The festivities roared. Nonstop eating, drinking, talking, singing, laughing, dancing, shouting -- and no brawling! Maybe some excessive arm-wrestling, though.

We had quieter, formal moments too. We had ceremonies.

New babies were presented, and named, and more were announced. Mamas and papas were hugged and kissed.

Deaths and separations were mourned. No, this was not a Catholic family, but candles of remembrance were lit.

Marriages and other joinings were reconfirmed. Not legally or religiously, but in the eyes of all present. Jenna, Tasha, and I were cheered and congratulated.

The gathering was wonderful, all except for the occasional look in Papa's eyes.

***** Our extended vacation ended when we got back home.

Jenna returned to work, from desire, not necessity -- I certainly had enough money to support us without extra incomes. But Jenna was determined to have a career. When Jenna is determined, STAND BACK!

Jen no longer ran the business at individual restaurants. Her job shifted to the chain's downtown regional offices, where she was now a senior financial manager.

And Jen made it quite clear that her job was NOT sixty-plus hours per week and did NOT involve out-of-area travel. Yes, she was a working mother, but on her own damn terms, take it or leave it, thank you.

Tasha also worked by choice. She was still the network designer. She necessarily flew to her firm's HQ in Boston once a month, and on rare occasions stayed overnight in some remote city for a client. Tasha was otherwise a homebody.

Like Jenna, Tasha was able to control her work time pretty well.

Besides the papa and the mamas, Lily also had uncles nearby. Uncles Chet and Mark visited regularly and even took on some baby-tending chores -- practicing, they said, for when they adopted their own. Yes, the family tradition would continue.

Big sister Lynette called the condo one afternoon. I answered. After other chatting, she wanted to know how we were working out. I told her:

"Jenna is mama for half of each work day. Tasha is mommy the other half. I'm papa all the time, no matter what Lily needs. And Lily is always Lily, amazingly calm. Whew! This all feels like some complex machine that somehow keeps running."

"Are you giving those girls equal time, Randy? About the worst thing that could happen is that you get out-of-balance, show favoritism, shit like that."

"I love them both so much, it's beyond belief. But it's not me who allots time. I'm just a pawn in their game. You know: what mama says, goes; and what two mamas say, goes twice. Takes all I've got just to keep up with them! And with Lily."

"And how do YOU feel about this arrangement, big guy?"

"I'm about worn to a frazzle, and I'm the happiest man alive!"

"You'd better be, and you deserve to be -- and they deserve the best of you!"

"That's all I know how to do, give them my best. Nothing else matters. Nothing."

I know Lynette had her own conversations with her sisters and apparently my story synced with their versions. Good thing.

Our lovemaking felt special that night.

The talk with Lynette ran through my head as we touched. All I could give was my absolute best, nothing less.

Lily ate well and slept well. We gathered in the master bedroom in our end-of-day clothes, light soft robes of pastel long-thread Egyptian cotton, nothing more.

We had a regular bedding-down ritual.

We stood near the bed, shoulders nearly touching. One of us untied another's robe belt; the other pushed the robe off them, onto the floor. Each gave the naked one's near nipple a long juicy kiss while their hands joined in stroking the revealed genitals and butt cheeks. Then on to the next, and the next.

Tonight, Tasha's robe fell first. She moaned as we suckled and massaged her. Then was Jenna's turn, and a softer reaction. And then me. The women went the extra step, dropping to their knees and sharing my cock with their tongues.

They shoved me onto the bed, on my back, but I never allowed myself to cum first. I suffered their talented tantalizing tongues for a few minutes. Then I used my strength to wrestle Jenna down, supine at the center of the king mattress. She did not struggle much.

Tasha and I each took one of Jenna's breasts in our mouths. Our fingers met at her vulva. We stroked and probed and prodded and twiddled together inside Jen.

After a suitable time, Tash slid down between Jen's thighs. I turned to watch Tash tenderly licking Jen's pussy while I still kissed and tweaked Jen's nipples.

Tasha was in no hurry. Neither was I -- well, maybe a little. Jen arched her back and screamed her first orgasm after a few stretched-out minutes. I relinquished her breasts and moved behind Tasha. Tash obligingly raised her butt into doggy position.

I knelt behind Tasha, stroking her superb ass, spreading her thighs, rubbing her mons, fingering her already-wet slit. I slid into her warm tunnel, all the way in. She raised her face from Jen's puss, moaned "Oh yeah," then dove back in.

I was still in no hurry -- well, maybe a little. Long, slow, deep strokes, not brutally bashing Tasha's jaws into Jenna's pubic bones, just moving her body like a simmering slow wave of tantric energy.

I could keep at that pace for only so long. My instincts took over. Instincts driving millions of years of primate evolution. Instincts demanding hot sperm be rapidly deposited into a waiting uterus. Instincts that ruled me.

In other words, I sped up and started pounding, first happily, then desperately.

Jenna turned to hold and kiss Tasha while my instinctive pile-driver exertions spiked our sweat and hormone levels. Faster, harder, deeper -- you know the mantra by now. Drive on!

Tasha moaned and screamed and moaned some more while I kept pistoning in and out with all the strength my muscles could deliver. And then, all the sperm I could deliver, and a bellow. I gave Tasha my best.

I was not able to recharge for a couple hours but I gave Jenna my best too, with my mouth and hands and Tasha's able assistance. And when the time came, I gave Jen my best sperm blast.

I slept spooned between my beauties. I was in heaven, in wonderland.

***** And it all came crashing down.

The condo was calm that Monday morning.

Jenna had taken the Hyde Street cable car to her Market Street office, as usual. Tasha lounged naked in her Mayan hammock and worked on a netbook. I was wearing exercise shorts and educating Lily about playing tunes on a slide whistle.

The doorbell sang. I lifted Lily and checked the front-door camera. I saw two men in police uniforms, different uniforms.

I could not recall comitting any felonies lately so I buzzed them in and pulled on a shirt. The mini-lift rose. I met them at our door.

"Mr Randall Ronk? Can we enter, please? This has nothing to do with any crime."

"Okay, come on in. Care for some coffee or water?"

They passed through the door, removing their service hats.

"No, thank you," said Sergeant Al Martinez, SFPD (city cop). Sergeant Dan Orland, BART (transit cop) shook his head and said, "Mr Ronk, please sit down."

Now decently robed, Tasha walked up to us. "Hey guys, what's up?"

Sgt Martinez (SFPD) looked at her. "And you are...?"

"This is Natasha Ives, my sister-in-law and babysitter. Why do you need to know? Why are you here?" I demanded. I switched Lily to my other arm.

Sgt Orland (BART) said, "Both of you please, sit down." He was not smiling.

I had a very bad feeling. I looked at Tasha. We sat at opposite ends of the couch.

Sgt Martinez (SFPD) asked, "Mr Ronk, are you the husband of Jenna Ronk?"

My feeling got worse. "Yes, and Tasha is her sister. What's happening? Is Jenna okay? Is anything wrong?" From the corner of my eye, I saw Tasha was tense.

Sgt Orland (BART) said, "Mr Ronk, Ms Ives. I'm very sorry to have to tell you this." Oh shit.

"About an hour ago, Jenna Ronk was standing near the edge of the west end of the eastbound platform of the Bay Area Rapid Transit's Powell Street station. The platform was crowded." Oh no.

"Just as a train bound for Berkeley entered the concourse from the west, a crowd surge pushed Ms Ronk off the platform, directly in front of the train. She was killed instantly." Oh shit, no.

"We're reviewing the security videos, looking for any evidence of foul play, but our initial analysis is that this was just a tragic and unfortunate accident."

I am not fragile. I am not naive. I have seen death. I have lost those close to me, relatives and friends and lovers and comrades. I am mature. I try to be strong.

But I am not superhuman. I am vulnerable. And I fell apart then.

I froze solid. My brain stopped working. Light and sound impinged on me but I saw nothing, heard nothing, I do not know for how long. I felt the couch bounce and regained my senses; I saw Tasha run to the bathroom. I heard her vomiting. I looked down at calm motherless Lily, who looked back at me, face inscrutable.

I am not sure just what happened after that.

I vaguely remember seeing Jenna's boss Sara and some of her co-workers. I remember Jenna's nephew Chet and his partner Mark directing people and events. I remember they hired a pretty nanny. I remember people moving in and beyond my vision.

I think I remember staggering around screaming. I think I remember someone locking the outside sliding door to keep me from the roof deck.

I remember holding Tasha and crying endlessly, and Chet and Sara and others hugging us. I remember some of Jenna's brothers and sisters holding us, and taking us to a memorial service somewhere, and throwing ashes off the Golden Gate Bridge. I do not remember eating.

I do know that Chet and Mark saved our lives. They saved Tasha and me from just spinning out of control, with lots of help from Chet's folks Brad and June, who stayed a week in the music/guest room.

Tall elegant Trinh, the nanny with a degree in child development, moved into Lily's room for full-time care. Our home never lacked for human presence.

Tasha and I were zombies for much too long. Family and friends kept us whole.

Brad and June returned home and were replaced by youngest step-sister Susanne, the cute little Hmong woman who jokingly tried to 'steal' me at the family gathering. She had better luck this time. Within a week, Tasha had invited her into our bed.

In another week, Trinh was also sleeping with us. The king bed was getting rather crowded. Okay, so they took turns for sleepovers and Lily-tending. But Tasha and I were never lonely.

And our sorrows were slowly dissipating.

Here is a secret: The best cure for loss, for sorrow, for mourning, is love. With loving sex. Frenzied loving sex, administered in large doses. Focus on the present and the future, not the lost past. Lovemaking is healing. Remember that.

Susy and Trinh rescued Tasha and me. They kept us from drowning in our loss. They gave us their love, and we returned it. Love grew around us all and nourished us.

We rebuilt our shared lives.

Yes, we had a non-typical household. Tasha, Susanne and Trinh were all within a couple years of thirty. I was a couple years past fifty. Were they an old man's harem? Ask them, not me -- it was all their idea. I was just along for the ride.

We all loved each other, tasted each other, fucked each other, in couplings and triplings and goddam balls-to-the-walls quadruplings.

I was on my back with Susy sitting on my face and wiggling while Trinh lay on her belly with her butt in the air and blowing me while Tasha was between her thighs eating her. We came in waves.

We shifted. Trinh and I unhurriedly missionary-fucked while watching Susy on top of her sister Tasha in a furious flopping-around 69. We came in passion.

We shifted again, me eating Trinh eating Tash blowing me while Susy watched and frigged herself. We came in spurts.

Then Susy fucked me reverse-cowgirl while Tash kissed her mouth and breasts and Trinh sat on my face. We came in rapture.

And so forth.

We were one team. We were all wed to the others in the deepest way, by our own willpower, in our own hearts, forever and ever, amen.

We had tokens of our union. Gold rings. Little gold rings, one each, inset in our left nipples. The ladies had wanted genital piercings, but I adamantly exercised my limited veto power. NO FUCKING WAY! This may be the only argument I ever won in this family.

Guess what? Tasha dragged me to City Hall for a civil marriage.

Guess what? Susanne and Trinh both stopped taking The Pill.

Guess what? Susy and Trinh both joined Tasha in glowing pregnancy.

Guess what? We DEFINITELY needed to find larger living quarters.

Our lives seemed to be going in a good direction.

***** But we all had a hard time with the next phase.

The condo was calm that Wednesday morning.

Trinh had taken Lily to a clinic for a check-up and shots. Tasha was lying nude in her Mayan hammock designing network solutions. I idly scratched my bare balls while browsing issues of THE NEW YORKER and SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN. Yeah, old-fart stuff. Susanne, wearing only a blue bikini bottom, sifted a stack of Jenna's folders, old paperwork that might deserve shredding.

"Hey guys, what's this?" Susy asked, holding up a large taped-shut manila envelope. "It's labeled, FOR NATASHA IN CASE OF EMERGENCY."

I glanced up. "Well duh, maybe it's for Tash, huh? Hey kid, you want to take a look at this?" Little dark Susy stuck out her tongue at me.

I watched with approval as Tash's naked Celtic beauty rolled from her hammock and strode the room in raw magical glory. She took the envelope from Susy, then sat on the rug before me, cross-legged, giving me a splendid glistening pussy view. Mmm-mmm-good!

Susy passed Tasha a stiletto. Tash sliced-open the envelope and pulled out a slim bundle of folded papers and legal-size envelopes. She opened one page and read.

Tasha's smile disappeared. She read all the pages and her face grew even grimmer. She looked up, grey-faced, hardly breathing. She dropped the papers in her lap. I thought she was going to pass out.

Susy and I both stared at Tasha. "What's wrong, sis?" asked Susy, worried.

Tasha said nothing. I left the couch and went over to her. She looked up at me with glazed eyes and passed me the papers.

Susy stood beside me. We read, starting with the first carefully hand-lettered page.

"Dear Natasha:

"If you are reading this then I am dead or damaged or disappeared. Do not mourn for me forever. I must tell you of terrible things I have done. I meant well. I would never ever do anything to hurt you. But this is still terrible. Please do not hate me forever.

"I know you were offered your adoption records when you turned twenty-one, and you refused them. The records have remained sealed under court order. I hoped you would someday find the need to read the files, to learn who you really are. Not just for closure, for emotional healing, but for medical reasons, so you would know of problems you or children might watch for. And to plan your life.

"I admit I did three terrible things. The first was to bribe a clerk in the county adoptions office to leak me your records. A copy of your file is in an enclosed envelope. I read the file. I know who you are.

"That led me to the second terrible thing. I bribed the adoptions clerk again, for much more money, to destroy the originals. And I bribed one of the County Clerk's staff to shred all other official paperwork about you in local government files.

"You are now an 'un-person', with no birth certificate or adoption papers on file anywhere accessable. Happily, you already have your US Passport and California Driver's License, so you are not totally undocumented. An unofficial copy of your birth certificate is in another envelope here. You might want to burn it.

"My third terrible act was different. Remember when Lily was born, I suggested we all have DNA samples taken? The reports of those samples are in another envelope here, along with a comparative analysis. These are the only remaining copies of these reports -- I had the originals destroyed also, along with the samples.

"The birth certificate and adoption records tell your story, and the DNA reports confirm it. Here is the truth.

"Natasha Tamara Ives, you were born at UCSF Medical Center on a Leap Year's Day. Your parents were a married couple originally from San Diego but residing in San Francisco. Your birth mother's maiden name is Mary Jane Hamilton. Your father's name is Randall Willem Ronk. Your birth name is Elise Erynn Ronk. The DNA proves Randy is Lillian's father, and he is your biological father. There is no doubt.

"You were placed for adoption not long before your second birthday. You were in excellent health, with no signs of mistreatment or malnourishment or disease.