The Belladonna Sisters Ch. 04

The next day the city shrugged off its snow-imposed slumber and the routines of urban life resumed again. Businesses reopened as the snow was removed and automotive traffic resumed its role as the omnipresent background noise of the city.

Bonnie and Charlotte had a good day at the store, the online orders for the Thanksgiving-themed cupcakes pouring in.

The hectic weeks at the end of November all the way to New Years passed in a happy state of near-constant busyness. First there were final exams, which for me meant a rush of hurried grading and paperwork. It also meant a break from teaching undergraduate sections for a month and a chance to devote more time on my thesis.

I'd wake up after Dan headed off to work, usually crossing the street and stopping into the shop to say good morning to the girls and snag a coffee. They refused to charge me and usually threw in a muffin or a brownie to suffice as breakfast.

Back home, I'd work on my thesis until lunch.

Most days somewhere around two or three Bonnie would come up. The poor girl was in the shop since five and by early afternoon was exhausted. Charlotte, Olivia, and whoever else was on schedule could manage readily without her so she'd come up and steal an hour's sleep in my bed while I worked at the kitchen table.

As you can imagine, sometimes Bonnie's visits turned sexual. She'd doze for an hour or so, then wake refreshed. I might slide into bed behind her, kissing the back of her neck until she turned over towards me and a make-out session led to unrestrained fucking.

One time she called out to me from the bedroom. When I went back there she was on her back under the covers. I could tell she was naked underneath.

"What can I help you with?" I asked playfully.

"I think you know," she said. "Strip down and join me."

That resulted in some intense missionary-position fucking, the covers pulled up over us as we went at it. Doing it that way with a fat girl is amazing. You can feel her fullness underneath you, big tits against your chest and plump arms and legs wrapped around you.

Charlotte wasn't left out, of course. A few times a week, the girls usually slept over. Bonnie rose at five and headed across the street to get things going. Dan was next, leaving for work at eight-thirty. Charlotte didn't go into the store until ten, so we often found ourselves alone.

One time I went out for a run right after Dan left for work. I came back a sweaty mess and hopped in the shower. I was busy scrubbing myself clean when the shower door opened behind me.

I turned, surprised, to see Charlotte standing there naked. She gave me a sheepish grin and stepped in with me. I took her in my arms and kissed her deeply. Soon our hands were wandering over each other wet bodies, soaping each other up.

Charlotte lay on the floor of the shower-bathtub, her back propped up on the side. I fucked her with the hot water striking my back the whole time until my cock exploded inside her.

Yeah, it was good to be home for a few weeks.

***

One evening we were all hanging out when Bonnie produced a small box from the store and asked us all for our undivided attention.

"We've only ten days till Christmas," she explained, opening the box and taking out its contents. "This is our signature holiday cupcake."

Bonnie placed a pair of them on the coffee table and it took my breath away. It was a vanilla cupcake, topped with bright red frosting and green mint chocolate chips. Sticking out of the frosting was a piece of rectangular chocolate, dark on one side and white on the other. Embedded on both sides of the chocolate were bits of crumbled candy cane.

"I present to you the Candy Cane cupcake," Bonnie announced. "The key to our Christmas plans."

"What's that on top?" Dan asked.

"It's called peppermint bark," Bonnie said. "Melted layers of chocolate embedded with crumbled peppermint candy."

We all took a bite of the cupcake, nodding. It was a triumph of sweetness balanced with layers of mint and alternating smooth and crunchy textures.

"We've already got dozens of orders for them," Charlotte said. "And we just posted them online this morning."

"I think you'll sell a thousand," I said.

***

Christmas was strange that year. I was happy, as happy as a guy could be. I was starting to have feelings for two of the most beautiful BBWs I'd ever met. My best friend felt the same way about the same two amazing ladies.

The thing about the holidays is they can complicate things. The act of buying a gift, for example, implies all sorts of expectations and perceived obligations. In the polyamorous quad we were forging, one had to be careful not to make either lady's gift better or more touching than the other's. I shuddered to think about Valentine's Day.

Seriously, it's a minefield. Throw in the fact that I was a poor grad student without money to burn.

Charlotte bailed me out. She knew I had to stretch every dollar and she suggested a twenty dollar limit for gifts.

"To force us all to think about a gift which really fits right," she explained. It was a stretch, but it spared me embarrassment and I appreciated it.

I wound up finding a pink wool cap to give to Charlotte and a purple scarf for Bonnie. We all exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve after they closed the store. I received a new book I'd been eying in the window of our local bookstore from Charlotte and a Bonnie gave me a beautiful new sweater which she assured me didn't violate the twenty-dollar limit by much.

"Well, I love it," I said.

"Even though its purple?" she said.

"Especially. I'll always think of you when I wear it."

Now, our neighborhood half-empties on the holidays. A sizeable portion of its inhabitants are twenty-somethings who generally head home to their parents in the suburbs, and we were all no exception. Dan and I took the train to the station nearest his parent's house, his dad waiting for us at the station.

"I bet you two have some stories to tell," Dan's dad said as he drove me over to my folks' house a few towns away. "Two young guys in the city."

"Nothing much to speak of," I said.

"No lady friends?" he inquired.

"A couple," I said.

Christmas was awkward. My older sister Dina and her husband Steven were staying over as well, along with their toddler Corey. It was going to be a cramped, crowded, and noisy couple of days.

I arrived late on Christmas Eve and wouldn't head back into the city until the morning of the twenty-sixth. Settling into my boyhood bedroom, I wished Bonnie or Charlotte were there.

Throughout Christmas dinner my mom kept wondering aloud if there were any nice girls in the city for me to meet.

"No, Mom," I felt like saying. "Only wild and kinky BBWs who've been fucking me and my roommate's brains out. We enjoy some pretty amazing group sex, too. I think I'm falling in love with of them."

I just nodded and passed the gravy. The worst was when my mother mentioned how her friend Lucy's daughter Moira was single and also lived in the city.

"You should give her a call," my mom suggested.

"I'm really busy these days, mom," I said.

The thing is, Moira is not only empty-headed and shallow, but she's also skinny as a rail. Even if I were all alone, Moira's the last girl I would call.

The thing that annoyed me was how each and every girlfriend I've ever brought home has been a BBW and yet my mother doesn't get it.

In terms of family acceptance, of course, being a BBW lover is no hurtle at all next to what a lot of gays have to face. No one tells me I'm going to hell or thinks I shouldn't have the right to marry a BBW, for instance.

There's still bullshit to put up with, though. For one thing, there's the annoying sense you get from family and friends who think you can do better even though you're already with the girl of your dreams.

Other family members understand, at least. Every time mom brought up skinny Moira, Dina looked at me and rolled her eyes. We'd never had a specific conversation about the kind of woman I admired, but she knew. Every single girl she'd ever seen her little brother around was a fat one. It didn't take a genius to put two-and-two together.

"Mom, just drop it," she finally blurted out after a second glass of wine. "Moira's obviously not his type!"

"Well, I don't know why not," mom said, a baffled expression on her face. "She's lovely."

I poured myself another glass of wine and sighed. The holiday would soon be over and I'd be back at 221b where I belonged.

***

The first week of January brought with it signs of an interesting year ahead.

I was on the tail end of my winter break. Dan, inspired our famous apartment number, was developing characters for the mystery novel he'd conceived.

It centered around Dr. Phineas T. Fogbottom, a widowed, professor of English literature at a prestigious eastern university which eerily resembled the same institution of higher learning Dan and I both attended and I currently taught at. He used his encyclopedic knowledge and photographic memory to solve crimes. He was assisted in this endeavor by his beautiful college-aged daughter, the exceptionally curvaceous Penelope Fogbottom.

Dan was enthusiastic about the concept, tapping away on his laptop for hours every night.

I'd had a good week as well. An insight into my thesis was followed by several days of feverish productivity. By Friday, I was drained but looking forward to attending a Renoir exhibit at the museum downtown. The four of us were going on Monday.

Bonnie announced over cheeseburgers on Friday night that she wouldn't be able to attend.

"But I took off," Dan lamented.

"The three of you can still go," Bonnie said. "I've got to drive down to Annapolis to help a friend with a problem."

"Tina," Charlotte muttered.

"An old friend from college," Bonnie explained. "Whom my dear sister Charlotte never cared for."

"I'm sure the queen of melodrama has good cause for needing your presence," Charlotte said.

"Anyhow," Bonnie continued, casting her sister an annoyed glance. "I'll drive down in the morning and meet Tina for lunch. Some things require a face-to-face conversation."

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"If I can leave before their rush hour I'll be home for a late supper," Bonnie went on. "My sweet sympathetic sister will be your date, boys."

Charlotte stuck out her tongue in Bonnie's direction and took another bite from her burger.

"Well, you'll be missed," I said.

Charlotte and Bonnie stayed over on Sunday night. I bunked with Bonnie and Charlotte spent the night in Dan's bed.

"You take care of both these boys while I'm gone," Bonnie said at the door, casting Charlotte a sly grin.

***

The exhibit was a good one. I've always admired Renoir's focus on female beauty and how he wasn't shy about often painting big girls and capturing their unique loveliness.

We wandered through the galleries transfixed. I stared into the faces of Renoir's subjects, mesmerized by the master's ability to capture their essence and preserve it across the centuries.

I was struck by a large work entitled "Mussel-fishers at Berneval," not one of his most well-known works but a masterpiece nonetheless. A peasant woman stands by the sea, three of her children nearby. She is dressed plainly. Indeed, she's just spent a morning collecting shellfish. Yet Renoir captured her quiet dignity and beauty.

Bonnie's favorite artist, she told me once, was Van Gogh.

"It's the way he painted in such vivid colors," she explained. "Like me, only my medium is the cupcake."

It occurred to me as we meandered through the exhibit that Bonnie should create a Van Gogh-inspired cupcake. I texted the suggestion to her. She replied that now she had something to ponder on the ride home.

I chuckled and put the phone away.

"What is it?" Charlotte asked.

"Your sister," I said.

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"You're really pissed at her?" I asked.

"I could never be genuinely angry with her," Charlotte sighed. "She's like a part of me. You don't know because you're not a twin. But Tina is pure poison and Bonnie should know better."

"Who is she?"

"I don't want to get into it," Charlotte said as we strolled into the next room of the exhibit.

We stopped, staring at the painting on the wall before us. The placard identified it as "Bather Gazing at Herself in the Water."

The colors were masterful, the depiction of the model doubly-so. Whoever she was, she was one of the bigger models Renoir used, and she was posed perfectly. She was a young woman of captivating beauty, from her beautiful face full of simple joy and bounteous auburn hair to her adorable little bare feet. In between was all bountiful feminine curves. I imagined what it would be like to run my hands over those thighs, up and over the curve of her substantial bottom.

Ah, to have a time machine and hang around Renoir's studio circa 1910.

I asked myself if it was juvenile to look at the nude picture in such an overtly sexual manner. I didn't think so. Let's be honest, many of Renoir's nudes are overtly sexual. How could a big, beautiful naked woman with her ample ass thrust in the air not be sexual?

The most remarkable thing about the painting, however, was its eerie familiarity. The model, you see, bore more than a passing resemblance to Charlotte.

There was the same plump legs and big ass. The rust-red hair was there, too, and the face was similar. If the model in the painting was wearing glasses I'd almost swear it was Charlotte. Charlotte's arms are plumper and her tits much bigger, but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny.

"Holy shit," Dan said.

"Wow," I added. "That's remarkable."

"What?" Charlotte asked, perplexed.

"Don't you see?" I asked.

"See what?"

"Does the model, um, look familiar?"

"Should it?"

"It's you."

"Me?" she said, studying the picture carefully. "You think so?"

"Definitely."

"You know, I kinda see it. Holy shit."

"That's what I said," Dan quipped.

We splurged and took Charlotte out to a nice lunch near the museum at a little bistro tucked along a side street. Over lobster ravioli and pan-seared scallop, we chatted about the exhibit.

Heading back to the apartment, the mood was overtly sexual. Charlotte walked between us from the subway station to our front door, casting each of us suggestive glances.

Upstairs in the apartment there was a moment of awkwardness. Charlotte broke right through it.

"So I know you're wondering what's gonna happen next," she blurted. "Who fucks me first, right?"

"Okay," I asked. "Whose first?"

Charlotte laughed.

"Why bother with first?" she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You know exactly what I mean," she said.

"A three-way?" I ventured.

"Cut out the timid routine," she said. "Fuck yeah, I'm talking about a three-way. Why not? You've each fucked me plenty of times. In front of each other, at that. Why not just fuck me at the same time?"

"What about Bonnie?" I wondered.

"You can have a three-way with her when she gets back," Charlotte said. "Or, to be more accurate, you better fuck her together when she gets back because I happen to know that's her biggest fantasy and she's sick of waiting so wants me to break the ice. What the hell do you think that remark of hers this morning was all about?

"Take care of these boys while I'm gone," Dan said, trying to recall Bonnie's parting words.

"Take care of both these boys, she said," Charlotte corrected him. "So what do you say?"

"In that case," I said. "We say yes! Absolutely yes!"

Charlotte's eyes lit up. My astute powers of observation told me this scenario was something she'd been hoping for. I could appreciate that. After all, who doesn't want to be the center of attention?

Charlotte stepped forward towards Dan, who was standing closer to her. She kissed him warmly on the mouth for a long time, their tongues and lips dueling. Then she backed off, smiling, and kissed me the same way.

"Give me two minutes," she said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Dan and I stood there in the living room, deliberately not looking at each other. Dan broke the silence.

"I didn't except this to be awkward, bro," he said.

"It shouldn't be, though. I mean, all that we've done with them. In front of each other, too. Side by side. One after the other."

"True that," he said. "Let's just make it all about her, bro. Charlotte is our goddess this afternoon and we are going to worship her. No stupid awkwardness ruining things."

"Agreed."

Charlotte re-emerged a few moments later. She looked the same, gorgeous as ever. She was clad in snug-fitting jeans and a bright pink sweater with white horizontal pinstripes. Underneath the sweater was a white collared blouse. The only visible change from before she entered the bathroom was her rust-red hair was now pulled back into a pony tail.

Charlotte smiled, bright blue eyes shining underneath her cute glasses.

"Well, I'm ready for you boys," she said, smiling innocently. "Have at it. Did I mention I'm in the mood for it hard and nasty?"

***

Dan and I approached Charlotte from either side. It was awkward at first, despite our vows to the contrary. I got over it, thanks to the way her huge tits strained the fabric on her sweater.

I kissed her first and she responded eagerly, her tongue attacking my mouth. I placed one hand on her ass and the other on her breast. Squeezing it, I enjoyed the way the fabric was stretched tight and so one could feel the fullness of the breast underneath. Dan's hand was on her other tit.

Charlotte broke off the kiss, her bright blue eyes gleaming. Her head turned and she kissed Dan like she'd kissed me.

Charlotte turned back towards me, mouth open. We kissed, tongues dancing happily. Dan leaned in and kissed the back of her neck. Charlotte let out a happy sigh and pressed her lips against mine harder.

Dan and I were all over her, early inhibitions fading in proportion to growing arousal. Four hands explored and enjoyed her curves, from her big tits and wide ass to her thick thighs and soft belly. All the while it was a torrent of tongues and lips. Whenever one of us was kissing her mouth, the other was licking or nibbling her neck or her earlobe.

On it went like that, the three of standing there. Charlotte reveled in it, rejoicing in being the object of our desire.

It was a long, leisurely foreplay. There was a sense of wanting to prolong this experience as long as possible. Orgasms and satiation would come in good time, but there was no need to rush. This was a singular experience, the realization of a long-held fantasy for all three of us.

In the back of my mind I realized a new door had been opened. I knew it was likely that future threesomes would now occur, in all likelihood next with Bonnie. This was the first time, however. I meant to savor every moment.

We enjoyed every inch of Charlotte, clothes eventually coming off bit by bit. I slipped my shirt off and stepped out my jeans first, watching Charlotte and Dan kiss. His hands were all over her big tits, mashing them eagerly as her hand ran over his clean shaven head.

Charlotte was excellent at not letting herself ignore either of us. She broke off the kiss with him and turned back to me. We made out frantically, Dan nibbling her neck as he undid his jeans and got rid of them. A few moments later, a fully-dressed Charlotte was standing between two men in their underwear.

We made certain to rectify the imbalance. We slipped her sweater over her head and tossed it on the couch. We plunged in towards her again, kissing, nibbling, and groping as she gasped and moaned in response.

I'd of liked to rip her blouse right off, and nearly did. Fumbling in my eagerness, I undid her top few buttons as Dan took care of her pants. Soon she was wiggling out of her jeans and kicked them off. I'm sure she looked hot in her half-buttoned blouse and panties and nothing else, but amidst all the activity I never got an adequate look.