Blistered Lips

The Party: Lonnie

“I hate saying this,” Bill looked around at the others, his hand squeezing Lydia’s thigh under the table, “but we really should be calling it a night.”

“Noooo,” Lydia girlishly whined.

She was really quite tipsy now. The festivities had been winding down for the last couple of hours. Four empty champagne bottles littered the table along with Melanie’s heels, propped askew to one side of the flower arrangement. Her delicate, nylon-covered feet were in Joe’s lap, where he massaged them while talking quietly with Lonnie.

Picking up her margarita with one hand and sliding the other hand under the table to cover Bill’s, Lydia looked around at the others. “We’re having so much fun,” she said.

Lonnie glanced down at Joe’s fingers caressing her sister’s toes, and then looked at her mother. She was struck with how beautiful Lydia looked. The glow of desire — or perhaps it was the alcohol — had softened her somehow; her plump flesh was flushed pink; her eyes were radiant.

Lonnie looked at Joe again. “Well, I guess it’s your call,” he said, staring into her eyes as he lifted Melanie’s left foot to his lips, smoothing it across his face.

She watched as Joe, smiling almost lewdly, took her sister’s smallest three toes into his lips, sucking softly. Perhaps, she, too, was a bit intoxicated, because the sight of her sister’s toes disappearing into that sensuous mouth was turning her on. And the things he’d been saying to her! Telling her how sexy all three of them were; how he wondered what Bill was doing to her mother under the table; how he’d watched her dancing with that guy earlier and saw that he’d walked her back to the table with a hard-on. Normally, she would never let any man talk to her like she’d let Joe talk to her tonight. And he’d been practically making out with her sister right here at the table the entire time!

This was so strange, so different than what Lonnie knew about herself and her life and her family. What was going on here? They didn’t do things like this! Somehow, here on this night, on this ship, on this cruise, everything was, and really had been from the very first day, different. What had Joe called it earlier? Night magic! Yes, that was what he’d said.

Melanie giggled. Joe was biting the arch of her foot, running his hand up her thigh. She’d slumped further down in her chair, the edge of her ass right at its edge. Her left leg was splayed out and relaxed, and Lonnie could actually see her sister’s panties.

Shocked, Lonnie quickly looked up, only to find Joe staring right at her. He winked at her, letting her know he knew exactly what she’d been looking at and she felt herself blushing, not sure if was from embarrassment or titillation — probably a bit of both. All she knew for sure was that she had an overwhelming desire to see Joe’s hand top those nylons and touch her sister’s pussy. And from the dark, moist bloom across Melanie’s panty crotch, she knew her sister wanted to feel that touch.

Suddenly, Joe leaned forward, Melanie’s foot sliding down his chin and neck to settle upon his chest, where he continued to fondle it. As he pressed into Lonnie’s bare shoulder, she could feel his hot breath against her ear. “I can smell her,” he whispered, “I can smell your sister’s sex.” She sat there stunned, not blushing this time, but feeling a loosening within her, a giving-in, a hot flutter in her pelvis. She closed her eyes and shook her head as if to clear it. Stop it, she thought to herself; this has got to stop before it spins out of control.

“I’m with you, Mother,” Melanie was saying, “We are having way too much fun. Joe’s invited us back to his cabin, and I think we should go — at least for a little bit.”

Lonnie frowned at her sister. This is just crazy, she thought, what were her mother and sister thinking, for goodness sake? “No, Melanie, we really should get back to our cabin.” She looked at Lydia. “Mother, Bill’s right; it’s time to call it a night.”

Even before the words were out of her mouth, she could see that her mother was having none of it. “Lonnie, I don’t want to go back to the cabin,” she answered defiantly.

“I’ve got a luxury cabin,” Joe said, “a well-stocked bar, lots of room for everybody; great stereo system, too. What do ya say, Bill?” It seemed to him that Bill, despite his obvious desire for Lydia, was hesitating.

Melanie noticed, too. Reluctantly pulling her foot away from Joe, she scooted around in her chair and turned toward Bill and her mother. “You’re not going to be a killjoy like my sister, are you, Mr. Bill?” Melanie looked pointedly at his arm, her eyes traveling down its length to where it vanished at the table’s edge, letting him know she was well aware that his hand was down there somewhere touching her mother’s body.

They all laughed at her pet name for him; she’d been using it all night, to everyone’s amusement. Under the table, she walked her toes up Bill’s shin, which caused him to grin.

Interpreting his grin as agreement, Lydia giggled with delight. “Oh, Lonnie, if you’re tired, just go back to the cabin by yourself. Melanie and I will be ok; we don’t need you to baby sit.”

While Bill still meant to refrain from any actual physical mischief, he just couldn’t resist Lydia’s enthusiasm. Plus, he was more than a little intrigued with the idea of just what might transpire. What would be the harm of a quick night cap before calling it a night? If nothing else, it would just give him more jerk-off material when he finally got into bed later. Not to mention, indecent fodder for the coming year. “Sure, why the hell not,” he conceded, “I’m game.”

He reached out, curling a tress of Lydia’s brown hair behind and under of her ear, pausing to press his thumb into the arch of her cheekbone. He was pleased to see her nostrils slightly flair as she took in a deep breath and licked her already moist lips. “What about you, Lonnie? Why don’t you come back with us?” While Bill’s head tilted slightly, his words aimed at Lonnie, he continued to look at her mother.

“You can be the chaperone. I mean, somebody has got to make sure we don’t get ourselves into trouble, right?” As if to drive his point home, he leaned forward and softly bit into the creamy, supple flesh of Lydia’s neck.

Lonnie watched, incredulous. “Melanie,” she started to say, hoping she still might be able to talk some sense into her. But, when she looked at her sister, she saw that Melanie had reclaimed her heels and was busily straightening the strap of the left ankle strap, the one already on.

She had no choice. They were going—with her or without her. “Ok,” she said, reaching for her purse. “One drink, and then we are going back to our cabin. Do you two understand?” But the others were already walking towards the door. She hurried to catch up.