Family (Re)Union

As Rick smiled at her, Jess came up and took a step forward, almost obscuring her from view as the harlot waved at her husband. "I'm right here, hussy," Aoife hissed.

"Hmm? Who said that?" The woman shielded her eyes as she panned the area, pretending her elder cousin wasn't standing two inches away with her boobs in her face. "Oh, wow."

Aoife followed her gaze toward a rather striking and tanned woman in a red outfit that barely covered anything and framed the rose vine tattoo that curled up her thigh and ended just above the side of her breast. The woman looked like a fitness model, especially with that haircut -- short on the back, long in the front. Unless her companions were out in the water, she was here alone.

"You have good taste," she said. She preferred geeky or classy girls, herself. A woman like that typically intimidated her, especially when she was single.

"So," Jess said quietly, "if I can arrange a threesome with her, you'll let me have your husband for a night, right?"

"God, what is wrong with you?"

"Seriously?" They turned to see Bree leaning around the back of the van. That girl always did have way too good a hearing. She came over, keeping her voice down, "A threesome with her and Rick, or you and her?"

Jess smirked. Aoife rolled her eyes behind the sunglasses. "Ignore the pervert, already. You're just encouraging her."

"I swear, Jess. If you do such a thing, I'm making porn videos with Gloria and become an Instagram model. You two will be responsible for pushing us into a life of debauchery, remember that."

"But I know a lot of people who'd pay good money for that," said Aoife. "Just wait until you're both eighteen."

"Now who's encouraging who?" asked Jess. Bree gave a mock scream and stormed off.

As the ladies went down to the water, followed by Chris and cousin Wesley -- both of whom had been hired as pack mules, apparently -- Aoife turned and blew her husband a kiss. He happened to be standing right next to his father, so the gesture wasn't clear on for whom it was meant. The guys pointed at each other, then themselves, and she just shrugged while taking off her shirt and shorts. Jess likewise stripped down to her suit and tossed her shorts at Rick before dashing off, with Aoife in pursuit.

There wasn't so much frolicking in the shallows for the guys to enjoy watching, not with the McBride clan. Within minutes, it looked more like a battle royale, causing quite a few passersby to stop and watch the group of pale women grapple and body slam each other deeper and deeper into the ocean, until they could only dunk or pull their opponents under. Blood was spilled, swimsuits were torn off, and a lifeguard even approached, then wisely went the other way. An hour later, they were a bit thirsty and called a truce. All in all, it wasn't as brutal as the typical reunion. That may have been due to Aunt Mallory not having arrived yet. The gentlemen, who had long since prepared their little campsite, had yet to venture too close to the water.

Rick was standing not too far off holding a towel for her as the beleaguered women staggered from the arena. He had left his shirt behind, showing off a body that wasn't very toned, but she knew the muscles were very taught underneath the soft skin and thick brushing of hair down his chest. Something about his genetics just never let him get that six-pack he thought she'd like. In truth, she preferred this look over the muscle-bound jocks that were surrounding them. He wiped her face with the white towel, staining a patch red.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

He leaned in to study her face. "Not broken. What did you say to Bree earlier to earn that?"

"She was just making a point clear. Hey, don't stare at my aunt." Rick glanced down quickly as Lily struggled to contain a breast after one of the straps on her one-piece had been ripped. Gloria was still in the water, trying to put her top back on. That, too, had been Bree's handiwork.

Thunder rolled overhead. The clouds weren't covering everything yet, but that made it somehow worse. The humidity was shooting up as the sunlight seemed to grow brighter in a desperate act to remain supreme over the day. Rick was sweating as he walked her back to where they parked.

"It's not going to last long," he said. "But the heat today is maddening. I think it's getting to my dad already."

She spotted Gerald sitting under an umbrella, drinking a beer. Like his son, he was rather fit, except unlike Rick, it showed. If it weren't for the thick dark grey hair, he could pass for a man nearly half his age. Sweat tricked down a sculpted chest that had very little hair, and she found herself watching it fall lower and lower toward his navel. It took more effort than she liked to tear her attention away and back to the man's face. He really did look a bit haggard. Perhaps the trip had been harder than he was letting on. Becky, who was working her tan nearby, was the picture of relaxation.

Until a second peal of thunder tore open the clouds, sending cold rain plummeting onto them. There was almost no warning, no light sprinkle to give them a heads up. The sun was even still shining on them. That just turned the place into a steam bath. As tourists ducked under umbrellas or into vehicles -- nearly all of them forgetting they'd come here expressly to get wet -- Aoife followed Rick into one of the cars. She sat on his lap as others piled in, since Wesley had apparently locked his car. Gerald sat next to them in the driver's seat while his wife and Bree were in the back. In only seconds, as she adjusted her position on Rick's lap, she felt something pressing up against her. She shifted her hips, earning a small groan from her husband. It was going to be awhile before she could get any more than that from him, so she relished the moment, trying not to let anyone else notice.

"Well, that was disappointing," said Becky. "Maybe we should've gotten an earlier flight."

"If we did, hon, our trip would have been a bit more unpleasant."

She blushed, then explained, "I'm still getting over a bit of the flu. I gulped down a lot of medicine this morning, to keep from getting sick on the plane. It's made me a little... tired, you could say."

"I'm sure the beers aren't helping."

"Oh, they're helping, all right." Everyone laughed at that. She, too, was a bit flushed, with bruises under her eyes that the mascara couldn't quite hide. Aoife hoped this trip wasn't too much for them.

"Maybe we should head back for the day," she offered. "Relax inside. We have five more days after this, so no need to push it. Otherwise, we're gonna be at each other's throats by Wednesday."

"No thanks," said Bree. "You old folks go be geriatric on your own. I'm swimming until lightning strikes me down."

"Then I'm sure you'll make a beautiful corpse. Maybe Chris will even give you CPR if you work it."

The girl stuck her tongue out at her and hopped out of the car. Aoife then opened her door and called out to Seamus and Lily, "We're heading back to see if the others have arrived."

Her aunt had slipped her shirt back on. It was white, and already wet enough to see through. She may have gotten a tad heavier over the years, but the weight had been distributed just right, enhancing all the best parts of her. Several guys nearby were sneaking glances at her. Lily, not caring at all, smiled and said, "Be careful now. We'll be back by dinner."

Aoife closed her door, then took note how both of the men in the car suddenly turned away. So they, too, failed to be subtle about ogling her aunt.

"That Lily sure has some knockers on her," said Becky.

*****

Emily and Dorian McBride were at the house having martinis when they arrived. Gerald was glad to see them again. They hadn't met since their kids' wedding, but Emily kept in contact with him and Becky over the years, especially during the holidays. It was she who'd been the greatest help during this last year. The woman with long, curly blonde hair and a smaller stature than even her daughter came around the kitchen island and hugged them all. Dorian followed suit, except with a handshake for the men. He was as tall and freckled as his brother, but without the gut or beard. His red hair was a deeper shade, too, and lightly greying. Aoife ran up and flung herself at her father, letting him twirl her around once before handing her off to her mother.

"Great to see you again," Dorian as he shook Gerald's hand.

"Likewise."

Aoife and Becky left after a minute and headed around the corner. Rick handed him another beer and said, "She's taking her to her room for a quick nap."

"That's good." He could use one, as well, but smiled to keep up appearances. If Rick noticed how exhausted he was, the boy would be too worried to enjoy himself. And since his in-laws were here, he'd want to impress. Still, it proved rather difficult. Between staying up most of the night with Becky to keep her company as she fought her nausea, and the stress of trying to patch things up with his son, Gerald felt a little queasy himself. After three beers and the sweltering heat -- even if he'd been outside for less than two hours -- he was already swaying on his feet.

At least it was fun to catch up with Dorian and Emily. Both had proven to be quite internet savvy, and Dorian had finally found his stride as a professional photographer. He pulled out an iPad to show off his latest spread, featuring quite a few outrageously beautiful people of all ages. At first, he wondered if Emily was ever worried about her husband spending time with naked women in some rather secluded locations, but the man appeared more satisfied with the pictures of seniors. The black-and-whites were stunning. Before long, Gerald was asking to buy canvas prints. Emily, who ran an online store for various kinds of artwork, was more than happy to take his order.

An hour later, he was bracing one hand on the kitchen island. One more group of Irish relatives had arrived, Mallory, he believed her name was. A rather buoyant and energetic woman, she was definitely from Dorian's side of the family, considering her red hair and husky frame. She had four adult children with her - three men and a young woman who looked nothing like the others. Where most of them had blue eyes, hers were almost gray, and she had short black hair that looked natural. The rest sported red or brown hair. He was curious, but preferred not to risk asking.

"You okay, Dad?" Only then did he realize he'd been staring at the girl and barely seeing her. He turned sluggishly toward his son.

Rick leaned in close, staring into his eyes. He recalled how his son used to get heat sick so easily, and now here he was, a few drinks in and unable to take a little sun.

He smiled and nodded, taking a step back. "Fine, fine. But uh... I'm going to find a place to rest. Guess it's time to find out... if any of these rooms are soundproof." Damn, he thought, it's hard to even talk normally. He could hear the slur in his voice, the slight lisp in some of the words. Yes, he really needed to lie down in some quiet, dark spot.

"Upstairs on the right at the end of the hall. That's your room. Go ahead and take a nap." Rick glanced at the group, shaking his head. "Doesn't look like the rest are going to be done for a long time."

"You married into one intense family, I'll say." Now, the slurring was even worse.

Rick smiled at him. "Not like ours is much better. Where's Becky?"

"Oh, she took a break some time ago with your wife. Probably to quiz her about you."

"Great. Well, go on. I'll cover for you."

Gerald patted his son's arm, then wobbled toward the hall, nearly spilling his drink as he set the glass on the nearest table. It was slightly difficult to even find the stairs. Yet even inebriated, he could appreciate how well designed the house was, with its dark cherry wood walls, oak trim, and rough-hewn ceilings. Outside was a house ripped from a tropical paradise, but inside it was like going to some secluded cabin in Colorado. It reminded him of family vacations, when Rick still enjoyed the outdoors. He could tell the boy was really trying to enjoy himself on this trip, both for Gerald's sake and his wife's, and the father couldn't be more proud. At least his son was determined to be a better husband.

There were quite a few rooms on either side of the upstairs hallway, though there was a good chance half of them were only imagined. He fought to walk straight without teetering, and did quite well. At the end, he turned toward his door, which was slightly ajar, with only a weak lamp on. The shades were drawn, so heavy that they blocked out any trace of the blazing sun. On the very large and comfortable-looking bed in the dead center of the room was someone sprawled on their stomach, facing away. It took his eyes a moment to register the slightly-curled blonde hair and pale sundress. In the low, brownish light, her tan looked even deeper. He almost called Becky's name, but worried his speech would be so bad as to embarrass them both. She was lazily typing on a small laptop, looking at old Victorian houses, it seemed. He wasn't quite sure, as he paid it very little attention. What held his gaze wasn't what she was doing, but where her skirt had hiked up one thigh, exposing the swell of her butt and hint of black panties.

He felt his erection growing already, finding himself shocked at just how eager he was. It was more than just a hard-on, however. He craved her, right then and there.

Instead of just going for it, he risked breaking the spell. "H-hey," he said softly.

She gave a brief glance over her shoulder, hair covering most of her face. The hall's light was shining directly in her eyes, making her wince and turn away quickly. "Hey," she mumbled back. "Having fun?" She, too, sounded a bit tipsy.

"A bit. Missed you."

"Good."

His dick was throbbing as she repositioned her legs, shifting the fabric to reveal even more. Closing the door behind him, he shambled closer. Then, without allowing himself to think anymore, he brushed one hand along her calf. She giggled and gasped at the same time, a throaty sound that drove him wild with hunger. His other hand grazed her left leg, both rising higher and higher, pushing away the skirt to expose her rump. Without a word, her legs parted a bit more, a silent invitation to continue. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto bed, placing his knees on either side of her legs. His hands pressed harder as they rose ever higher, massaging her back. His body began trembling in anticipation, forcing him to brace one hand on the mattress. With his fingertips, he traced a curving line between her shoulders, causing her to shiver. Then they gripped the zipper of her dress and pulled.

Becky buried her face in the comforter as she said, "Something's gotten into you."

He wanted to say that he was going to get into her, except he knew he'd flub it. So he kept silent as he lowered his lips and gently kissed her back, over and over, following her spine to the nape of her neck. His fingers unlatched her bra as he lowered his weight onto her, his crotch pressing against her butt to show just how far he wanted to take this. She gave a shuddering breath, offering no resistance. So this is what their marriage counselor meant by being more spontaneous and aggressive.

His hand slipped into her dress and cupped the small breast pressed against the mattress as his hips began to move on their own accord. Her rump pressed up against him, encouraging him. Breath quickening, heart racing, he wasn't even going to get his pants off in time if he didn't rip them off immediately. He got up on his knees quickly and began fumbling with his belt as she started wiggling out of her dress and began pushing her panties down. With his belt and pants undone, he hopped off the bed, grabbing and pulling her underwear with him. Even in the dim light, he could see the wetness dripping, causing her pussy to glisten. He dove in as his pants and boxers fell, burying his mouth into the moist lips between her thighs. She gasped loudly, arching her back. His tongue slipped in, relishing the taste. She squirmed as he found the bud that held her pleasure, and he pressed on, letting his ravenousness take control. His own arousal was painful in the best way, but he couldn't hold on anymore. Kissing her back, sucking on the skin, following her spine once more, he slid his body on top of hers until he felt the tip of his dick nudging her. Taking a moment to guide himself in, he plunged as hard as he could, crying out as she did the same.

There was no more time for teasing. No chance to find a rhythm. He braced one hand on the bed, the other on her shoulder, and began pumping, faster, harder, thinking of nothing but the pure pleasure. Becky held the comforter in a death grip, even biting onto it as she grunted in tune with his thrusts. There was no sense of time. He wasn't sure if he had been going for only a few seconds or an hour. Without thinking, he leaned down and bit her shoulder. She responded by wrapping her legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together, and reaching back to dig the nails of one hand into his hair. He buried himself as deep into her as he could go, with as much force as he could muster. She endured it all.

He was nearing the cusp when he noticed a detail that was missing. A familiar pair of moles on her shoulder weren't there. It was forgotten in only a moment. His mind just gave up.

Until the door opened. It was quickly followed by a loud thud.

"What the fuck! Sorry, Dad! I didn't..." Rick froze, as did Gerald. His son was holding his head as if he hit it, his free hand gesturing down the hall, then into the room. "Becky was downstairs. Who..."

The missing moles. Now that the hallway light was shining into the room again, it caught on the dress, which wasn't beige, but green. And the woman breathing rapidly beneath him was thinner and had a much smaller chest than he was used to. She turned back, her deep blue eyes flashing with horror and confusion when alighting on him.

Gerald pulled out and shot off the bed, that final act causing him to pop. He quickly pulled his shirt lower to catch the cum shooting out. It was soaked in sweat already, so they likely wouldn't notice that. As if that was a bigger deal than the rest. Rick had just found his father's dick in his wife. Aoife glanced between them, her eyes wide, mouth agape. Then, without a word, she grabbed her dress, slipped it on as she stumbled to the door, and grabbed her husband's arm, pulling him out of the room. Her underwear was still on the bed.

"Shit," was the only thing his frayed, drunken mind could come up with.

*****

Aoife couldn't stop muttering curses to herself. She was still dripping, feeling tendrils of sweat and juice running down her thighs as she pulled Rick into the hallway bathroom. Her panties had been left behind.

Shit, this was a bad situation.

Once the door was shut and locked, she leaned against it as she stared at her husband. He stood at the far end, in front of the window between the toilet and bathtub. The sunlight was weaker due to the clouds, though not stamped out completely. There were still a few hours left before nightfall, so they hadn't any need for the lights on. He was silhouetted against the daylight, his expression hidden in gloom.

"This was a mistake," she croaked.

"I know."

"No, you don't. I meant, I thought he was you. I swear!" Her voice was rising, so she stopped to breathe and control her emotions. He just stared at her, showing no anger, yet obviously not believing her innocence, either. "You two sound exactly alike, did you know that?"

"We don't look alike."

"I didn't get a good look at him. When I glanced over, I caught the hall light in my eyes. I saw a shadow, heard your voice, and knew you were coming to check on me. It wasn't even his bedroom."