"Hello?"

"To whom am I speaking?" a woman's voice on the other end asked. I told her who I was.

"I'm Caitlin's mom, Marianne. She's told us so much about you." I wondered for a moment just how much she had been told.

"Is Caitlin there?" It was strange hearing her referred to as Caitlin.

"Yes, ma'am. She's in the bathroom. I'll let her know you're on the phone."

I set the phone down and walked down the hall. "Cate, your mom's on the phone." I came back to the phone and told that Catie would be there in a moment. We had a very brief "weather conversation" before Catie came to the phone.

I could tell right away that something had happened or was happening with her dad. After a couple of minutes of listening and asking a couple of questions, Catie told her mom to "hold on."

"My dad's condition has gotten worse. My mom thinks it's a good idea for me to come home. She's already made a plane reservation for me for this afternoon. What time, mom? Three o'clock."

"Okay," I said as I stood there naked in front of her.

"I'm sorry!" Catie said to me.

"No, no. It's fine. You need to go."

I paused and thought for a moment.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I asked, not wanting to abandon her like this. I mean, I understood and she could certainly travel on her own. Still, I offered.

"Mom?"

After a moment or two of conversation Catie handed me the phone and I chatted with her mom for a couple of minutes. I told her that I could make my own arrangements to get back and forth and I had a certain amount of flexibility to do that. I also told her that if they thought that only family members should be around, that I understood that, too, and I would head back to NC.

After a couple of more minutes of conversation between Catie and her mom, Catie decided that she wanted me to fly to Portland with her. Catie gave me a brief rundown of what she knew and the tests that they were running to get a clearer picture of what was going on with her dad. He was sort of "in and out."

I called my travel agent (Robert, who happened to be in his office) and told him what I needed. He was a great travel agent. He made the arrangements for me to fly from Chicago to Portland. I told him that I didn't know whether I'd be flying back to Chicago and then home sometime after that or whether I'd be flying home directly from Portland. He made reservations for me to fly from Portland to RDU early on Tuesday morning and told me I could let him know if I needed other arrangements.

That completed, I called my ex-wife to let her know that I was heading to Portland, Oregon with Catie because her dad had fallen and had a serious head injury.

"I'm scheduled to fly back on Tuesday but I'll let you know if that changes." I was already scheduled to fly back to RDU on Tuesday after the Monday night football game. Now, I'd be coming from Portland. She had just returned from our picking our son up from his Saturday gymnastics class. I got on the phone with him to ask him how he was doing. I also told him that my friend's dad had fallen and hurt his head badly. I let him know that we were flying from Chicago to Portland to go see how he was doing and that I'd be back early in the week after that trip to Portland. I reminded him that his grandma, he, and I had flown to Portland just a couple of months before.

I finished making breakfast while Catie started her packing. It wasn't exactly the "breakfast in bed" that I had planned for us. She called Jody and few other people to let them know that she was going to Portland, including her office manager. Jody offered to pick us up and take us to the airport.

Since I was already packed, there really wasn't much for me to do. I could only help Catie to the extent I could. I really felt pretty helpless in those moments. We were finally dressed, packed and just waiting to be picked up. I reminded Catie that she was going "home" and that she could probably get or find anything there that she forgot.

I hadn't really thought about any awkwardness of Jody picking us up after our joint romp together the previous month. But we handled it well. I should have realized that these two close friends had already worked out how the relationships between all of us should work. Of course, Jody was concerned for Catie's sake around her dad's health, just as it should be between close friends.

We arrived at the airport and Jody dropped us off rather than coming into the terminal with us. We thanked her and went inside to claim our tickets. We checked our luggage (both of us did have our own enema bags inside the suitcases) and went to the gate to await our flight. Thankfully, we had a non-stop flight rather than one that went through Salt Lake City.

Once we got onboard, we raised the armrest between our seats and Catie cuddled up next to me. I was at the left window seat and she had the left aisle. As I recall it was a wide-body aircraft (I think a Lockheed L-1011). Once we took off and climbed above the clouds, it was a smooth flight all the way into Portland (also cloudy weather in Portland). We arrived just after 5:30 Pacific time.

When we arrived, one of Catie's brothers (the youngest of the two) was waiting to greet us. Catie introduced us and then asked him for any update. He indicated that their dad seemed stable at the moment and that there was no real change.

"They think he had a stroke and that's what made him fall. They also think that where he hit his head is where the stroke occurred. But they aren't sure about that yet."

Well, that was a little different from what we knew before we headed to the airport more than 6 hours earlier. We headed to baggage claim for our luggage and then to the car to leave the airport. We were going directly to the hospital so Catie could see her dad. The rest of the family was already there.

We met them in the waiting area. I met Catie's mom first.

"I'm Marianne. We spoke on the phone."

"Thanks for bringing Caitlin."

Now that's not the way it happened. But Catie gave me a slight shake of her head not to challenge that.

"I'm glad I can be here for her."

Fortunately, I wasn't the only non-family member in this gathering. The oldest brother (age 26) was there with his fiancée. He worked for the school system in the Eugene/Springfield, OR area. Her younger brother (the one that picked us up at the airport, age 22) had graduated the year before with a degree in Mechanical Engineering and was working for Boeing south of Seattle. His girlfriend (a local from the Portland area) was also there. For this family, these were longer term "significant others." I was "the new guy." Catie's sister, Abby, and the youngest of the family (age 18 ), DIDN'T have a boyfriend here with the family.

After the introductions, Catie, her mom and her brothers went to her dad's room to see him. I sat with Catie's younger sister and the two "significant others" while we waited. Superficially, they seemed to know a lot about me, my work, and how Catie and I met. After 10 or 15 minutes, Catie came back to the waiting area and got me.

"I want you to meet my dad."

I wasn't sure what I was about to walk into. He was in a private room. He was in a hospital gown and had all the monitoring equipment attached to him (it's much more sophisticated these days). He was breathing on his own but they had a oxygen tube at his nostrils. I could see a portion of the bruising from where he had struck his head. He was semi-conscious in that he would acknowledge you but he had difficulty speaking to anyone directly.

Catie introduced me to him as her very good friend who had come with her from Chicago. She told him that I was the person she met on the train and reminding him that I was planning to come spend Thanksgiving with them. It appeared to me that there was some acknowledgement of that, but I couldn't be sure. After spending a couple of minutes with them in the room, we all walked down the hall back to the waiting area. Catie's mom and Catie were going to spend a few more minutes at the hospital with Catie's dad. The rest of us were to go back to the house.

I rode back with Catie's youngest brother and his girlfriend to the western hills of Portland. The house was a fairly large two story one with lots of wood paneling on the first floor that gave it a classic warm character of some of these older homes in Oregon. We bought the suitcases in. Catie's went to her old bedroom but I didn't know what the sleeping arrangements were going to be, so I placed mine out of the way downstairs.

"The kids" started warming dinner. I helped set the table (it was a large wooden table) but there wasn't much I could do except hang out in the kitchen or in the dining room/living room area and chat with them. About 20 minutes later Catie and her mom arrived. Shortly after that, dinner was served. I sat there eating and mostly listened to the conversation. It had become clearer that there had been bleeding Catie's dad's brain but it was still an open question as to whether it happened before, during, or after the fall. There were already discussions about the upcoming rehabilitation. I listened and watched the family dynamics occurring in front of me.

Finally, it was time to clean up after dinner and the conversation turned to other topics (which included talking with and about me and my history). It wasn't terribly late for Catie and I even though we were both a bit jet lagged, but most of the family had been up many hours since the previous day. Ultimately, I was going to end up sleeping on the couch in the living room. That had been worked out between Catie and her mom on the way back from the hospital.

Catie wasn't happy about it but I understood. Catie's older brother and his fiancée were staying in "his bedroom." Catie's younger brother's girlfriend was local in the Portland area and she drove home sometime around 9 PM (so she wasn't staying in the house). With Catie's younger sister still in high school, even though she was senior, Catie's mom wasn't quite ready for me to be staying with Catie in Catie's room right next to her sister's room.

When Catie pulled me aside to tell me, I told her that was okay. I was a guest and would follow guest rules.

As most of the household went to bed, it left just Catie, her younger sister, and I sitting in the living room with the television tuned to the local NBC station. It was basically a room light that was making some noise. Catie was cuddled up next to me while the three of us talked. Abby was complaining (well maybe complaining is too strong a word) that her dad's fall and hospital stay had messed up her plans with her friends.

Socializing at high school football games and afterward was still important in this part of the world and in her high school life. As Abby talked, I remember thinking about how many things were still the same for high school students and how much and how many things had changed. It still seemed to be about music, cars, fashion/style, and who was in/out. But the music, cars and fashion had changed. Technology was changing. Even though Catie was three years younger than I was, she and I came through with many similar cultural experiences as we grew up. Catie was 11 years old when Abby was born and so the cultural experiences were different for the oldest and the youngest daughter in the family. Still, the two of them were close.

Abby was talking about some of her plans with her friends that she was missing. Maybe a party that she wasn't going to. She expressed some opinion that it was "unfair" that others got to be with their friends during this time while she was missing out. And from the perspective that, while her dad's condition was serious, it wasn't too serious (or so serious) to cut out her plans. I remembered some similar set of feelings when I was in high school.

Then, out of the blue:

"Are you fucking my sister?"

"Abigail!" Catie responded sternly to her.

"I'm sorry, she's always been precocious," Catie said, turning to me.

"The youngest in the family often are," I said.

"Well?" Abby asked.

"Abby?!?!?!" Catie said plaintively. I looked at Catie and gave a little shrug. I had to remember that I was nearly twice her sister's age.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious."

"What do you think?" I asked Abby.

"Yeah, I think you are."

I turned to Catie and asked "Am I fucking you?"

"No, not at all!" That wasn't the answer I expected from Catie, but I didn't contradict her. There was a long pause and Abby considered the answer she had just been given.

Then Catie added "Because we are fucking each other silly." (Or it could have been "Because we are fucking each other, silly.")

"Then why are you sleeping on the couch?" Abby asked me.

"I think your mom isn't quite ready to let you, as her youngest daughter, sleep in the bedroom next to her adult daughter and me." The implication was left unsaid. "Particularly under these circumstances."

"I'm an adult!" Abby protested.

"That's even worse!" For their mom, I meant.

From here the conversation took a remarkable turn. I wish I could adequately compress the breadth of the next several hours of wide ranging conversation. It would take far too much space to do it justice. I'll simplify it to a couple of paragraphs.

It would have been obvious to an outsider (like me) that there were previous conversations like this between two sisters. I hadn't been part of the conversation before, but It seemed obvious to me. But turned out it was Abby's underlying sexual curiosity that sparked the question because some of her high school friends had become sexually active and girls talk to each other. She was hearing about her friend's first experiences (from the perspective of her still being a virgin). If I hadn't heard this sort of conversation between women in the women's dormitories when I was in college, I might have been "shocked" by the bluntness (and some of it was pretty blunt).

I mostly listened unless I was asked to opine on some aspect of the discussion. If there was anything I contributed, it was that the guys she was hearing about from her friends were likely as "inexperienced" (but talked a big game), were possibly "jerks," and maybe both. Catie asked me how I learned to treat women they way I did?

"My mom. She wanted to make sure that I treated my female companions well and with respect." Even though I didn't live with my mom, that was something that she often stressed when the conversation turned to girls/women. Catie said that she thought she'd done a good job of that.

From there the conversation turned to a highly erotic conversation that focused on sexual experience (mostly Catie's). I mostly listened to what Catie had to say. It's strange sitting there hearing yourself discussed, sometimes in comparison to other previous relationships (some of which I knew about). But whether she was talking about what she and I did (without mentioning my name) or what she had done with others, Catie was mostly positive about her experiences. The only exception to being positive was her previous boyfriend and he had become a controlling jerk over a period of time that thought he needed to control Catie's life. Catie realized that she needed to get out of that relationship and did. Catie had already told Abby that whether her first sexual experience was good or not, that she would spend a lot of time thinking about it afterward. If it was really good, that's all she would really want to think about and repeat to re-experience the pleasure.

Somewhere in this conversation Catie came back to address Abby's characterization of fucking. Yes, for the pure sexual pleasure of "getting off" it might be "fucking." And she told Abby that we (Catie and I) kind of did that at the beginning because it was so intense and new between us and that it wasn't unusual to be driven by this lusty sexual desire. But Catie said that there was something more to what she and I did that was as or more pleasurable than the pure sexuality of it all. Abby asked what that was. Catie explained it to her this way: I didn't pull out of her, jump up or roll over after cumming (in her). The fact that I would stay in close contact and wouldn't pull away; "That is special" and Catie hadn't really experienced that before in previous relationships.

As I said, my mom taught me that. No "wham, bam, thankyou, ma'am." My mom had told me that if sex was all my partner wanted, I'd know pretty quickly. But most would want a certain closeness, connectedness, and vulnerability/openness. I took that message to heart.

The whole conversation made my penis hard and I was creating a wet spot in the front of my pants. I was sure that this conversation was equally as arousing for the two of them. Abby had interesting questions and Catie would answer most of them. Finally, the conversation seemed to wind down and it was getting late.

I suggested to Catie that we all needed to "cool down" before going to bed. I said something like "I'm pretty sure you're pretty wet and I bet your sister is, too. Maybe you both need to take care of that. Maybe a cold shower?"

I turned to Catie and asked "Do you think the three of us could fit comfortably in either of those beds up there?"

Before she could answer, Abby responded that we could fit comfortably in her bed.

"I don't think that would be a very good idea for tonight."

We all got up. My erection may have been noticeable when I stood up. I don't recall having to rearrange myself, though. I hugged and kissed Catie goodnight while Abby stood there and watched us before heading upstairs. "I'll be back to take care of that itch later," Catie whispered in my ear. I bid them goodnight and watched them go up the stairs.

I set about making my "bed" on the couch. Something I hadn't thought about until this moment was that I had been sleeping in the nude since I was in college. No pj's or underwear for me. I hadn't brought any pajamas and didn't ask for any. I thought for a few moments; since I didn't have pj's, should I sleep in my underwear? I decided against it, slipped out of my clothes and placed them on the floor beside the couch. I turned off the table lamps and crawled between the sheets and under the blanket. It was dark except for the dim light coming from the light in the ventilation hood over the stove in the kitchen.

I laid there thinking about the past couple of hours, hard, wishing I was in bed with Catie. She told me that she'd be back to take care of my "itch" but I didn't know when she meant she would do that. I figured that I would lay there awake, waiting for her for a little while. I drifted off to sleep as I replayed the past couple of hours in my head.

I awoke to a touch of a hand sliding down my abdomen below my navel to grasp my cock and a whispered announcement "I want you inside me so badly." In the haze of awakening, I suddenly remembered where I was and the conversation that I had just been thinking about seemingly moments earlier. I quickly checked to see whether the voice was Catie's or Abby's. I immediately realized that it was Catie.

Quietly I said "I'm sorry, I must have drifted off to sleep. I waited and when you didn't return I figured you must have fallen asleep. What time is it?"

"It's a little after 4 o'clock. No, Abby and I .... " There was a pause. "We were talking."

"All this time?" She nodded yes. She pulled back the blanket and the covers to reveal my naked body. "There's what I need."

In the dim light I could see that she was dressed in a robe. Until she undid the cloth belt, I had no idea of what she was wearing under it. As the front of the robe opened, I could tell that she had nothing on underneath. She let the robe slip off her shoulders and down her arms to the floor beside the couch. She had me slide a little more to the center of the cushions and then placed her left leg over and beside me wedged against the back of the couch. Once on her left knee, she placed her right leg and knee beside my left side on the couch, positioned herself, and reached down to place my cock at the proper angle to enter her vagina and gradually lower herself down on me. There was none of our more typical foreplay.

She was incredibly wet and warm. She had no trouble sliding all the way down on me and she had an intense orgasm as soon as she bottomed out and I was balls deep into her. She stayed upright on me and although she was breathing heavily, she managed to keep it a "silent" orgasm. I watched in the dimness as she quivered and shook above me. It must have come in waves because as soon as it seemed she was finished quivering, the next batch came.

After the first waves of orgasm, I expected that she would, at least, pull the sheets and the blanket over top of us so that we wouldn't be so out there and visible. Or possibly lay down on top of me as we quietly made love together. But she stayed upright on me, sometimes leaning forward so I could take her nipples between my lips and suck on them (which would trigger more orgasms), sometimes leaning back so that my cock was stroking the front wall of her vagina (triggering another orgasm). She was being really good at staying quiet with each orgasm.

I, of course, was approaching my own orgasm. She could tell I was getting close and quietly started giving me words of encouragement and telling me that she wanted to feel me cum inside her and that she wanted to be filled again with my cum. I let her know when I was about to cum and she leaned back and put her hands on my knees as she bottomed out on me. After the first couple of pulses into her, she orgasmed again and that stayed upright on me until my last spasm shot what was left into her.

"Mmmm, that was nice," she cooed. She reached over to pull the sheets over top of us and laid down on top of me.

"I got so hot and wet talking to Abby," she said. "I just wanted to pull you out of your pants and ride you right there."

"She would have gotten a different and real up close and personal sex education class," I said. We shared a couple of more intimate thoughts and moments as I softened and then slid out of her vagina. There was a small pool of my cum forming above my pubic bone.

"I better go back upstairs." Catie got up off me and stood up beside the couch. She leaned over and took the tip of my cock into her mouth and gently sucked on it and cleaned my cum and her juices off my cock.

"Be careful. You might start something, again."

"I know," she said. She stood up, picked up her robe and slid it back on her body and after one "flash" at me, closed it.

"Sleep well, lover boy," she said quietly. I watched her as she walked back to the stairs and saw her disappear from sight as she climbed to the second floor. I heard doors opened and closed quietly up there.

I still had this small pool of my cum and her juices on my abdomen. I could have gotten up and headed to the first floor bathroom to wipe them off and flush them down the toilet. Instead, I allowed my fingers to collect it and sucked it off my fingers to savor the flavor. Eventually, I drifted back to sleep in that sexually satisfied afterglow particularly from cumming with someone special.