I was very surprised to see Megan. Yes, she had said that she might come down in the middle of the week, but her mom had said nothing to me about it. Megan ushered me into the house and closed the door. She gave me a hug and a kiss and directed me to where I could put down the small duffle bag that I had brought with me.

I could tell there were other people in the house because I could hear voices and conversations towards the back of the house. Women's voices. I had only expected Sheryl to be here for an intimate dinner and evening together. Now I wasn't sure what to expect. In a flash, my mind was racing through the possibilities and much faster than I could speak if them or even recount them as I am here.

My first thought when seeing Megan was that rather than the sort of intimacy that Sheryl and I had been sharing for the last couple of days, we might be having a much less hurried intimate threesome that evening. In the moment, I realized that this presented something of a predicament because I had really enjoyed the past several days with her mother and the mommy/daughter scenario that we three had experienced just a few days ago had been supplanted by the time that Sheryl and I spent been together. I really hadn't considered Megan being back in the sexual picture. Not that she was unwelcome; it was that a different dynamic had been established between Sheryl and I.

The voices in the back of the house took me to thinking about something else, though, from my past; both "distant" and not so distant. My not so distant past was my experiences with Catie in Minneapolis. The sound of the women's voices took me to the scene where I was watching Catie being fucked by their male partners as they described, in intimate detail, what it was like to experience that, what she was probably feeling, and what they wanted to do with me while Catie was being occupied and filled by their partner's cocks and their cum. For me, the view of Catie is still frozen in time in my memory. The sound of the women's voices just a background score to the sounds of Catie's pleasure and the guys who were attending her. That's one of the memories that burst forth with the sounds from the back of the house.

The other was a more distant memory from when I was age 19 and visiting my friends in Gainesville, Florida. Their neighbor ("Mrs. C" or "Cici" short for the initials of her first and last name) was the first older women I had ever gotten involved with. My friends had been the gateway to her and the relationship we shared over a two week period and she was the one who "rescued me" from the toxic mommy/daughter environment in Bradenton, Florida. In some ways, I had become her "boy toy," or more correctly, hers and her friends. And one of the memories that flashed through my mind was a particular Sunday, when I walked into her home and there were women's voices in the back of the house. Women whom I would soon be serving, entertaining, and satisfying.

If only the line from the John Wick films had been available to me: "I have served. I will be of service."

As I said, these memories came in a flash. The rational side of me also told me that there might be a simpler and non-sexual meaning to what I was hearing. Moments later, Megan snapped me back to the rational side of things.

"Mom's planning meeting is running long. They're about to finish," she said. I don't remember what club or organization it was other than Sheryl was involved in the planning and coordination of some set of activities.

"Come on back. I'll introduce you," Megan said. Megan took my arm and led me to the back of the house to this spacious room overlooking the valley. Sheryl saw me when Megan walked me into the room, came over to me on my other side from Megan, put her arm around me and gave me a light kiss on the cheek.

Sheryl introduced me as "our friend from North Carolina," included that I was visiting during a conference that I was attending during the week, and that the timing worked out so that we could all ski together at Snowbird the previous weekend. She said nothing about us having just met. Rather, she treated the introduction as if we were old friends. My visual assessment of these women were that they were quite well "put together." I was glad that I dressed in my business casual attire rather than something that was too casual.

"We just finished," Sheryl said to me, indicating that the meeting was over and this was just the post-meeting socializing. I followed her lead about being their friend from North Carolina in the ensuing small talk. There were questions about two major areas: what I did as a professional and where I had skied (other than Snowbird). Fortunately, no one asked (directly) how long I had known Sheryl and Megan, or the family, though one woman commented on how tough things had been for the family in the past several years.

"Yes, Steven's death was tragic. It takes time for all of us to come to terms with such a sudden loss of people you love and who loved you and to move forward in life," I said to her. Of course, I was speaking of my own experience, not just for Sheryl's family. If that was a "test," I think I probably passed it.

On the skiing side of things, I didn't tell the others that this was my first full year of skiing. I guess the number of places that I had gone skiing, many out West, was an impressive enough list that it was assumed that if I had skied at all those places, I had been skiing for some time. I was asked about skiing in North Carolina and I pointed out that all the Eastern ski areas that I had skied at in NC, VA, and WV were much smaller with trails that were narrow and icy compared to the relatively large, tall, and wide open spaces in the Western US. I mentioned that Snowbird was some of the steepest terrain I had ever skied, but I loved the opportunity to ski the deep powder dump that occurred the previous weekend.

"Lucky timing," I said.

"You must be pretty good," one of the women said to me.

"Oh, he's better than pretty good," Megan said looking at me and then her mom. "Wouldn't you agree, mom?" she asked with a broad grin.

"Oh, Lord. Yes, dear!" Sheryl said in response. "He's really good! Really knows how to navigate our slopes." If the woman was aware of the double entendre, she gave no indication. I don't know how the three of us kept from bursting out laughing in the moment.

After a few more minutes, the women began to leave until it was just Megan, Sheryl, and I. I was helping Megan pick up the various cups, glasses, plates and utensils from where the meeting had taken place when Sheryl returned from the last departing guest.

"You don't have to do that," Sheryl said to me.

"Of course, I do," I said. "Otherwise, how do I maintain my status of being really good?" I asked. We all laughed at that. Sheryl came up to me to give me a "proper greeting," wrapping her right arm around my waist, placing her left hand to my crotch, and giving each other a real kiss, not a peck on the cheek. "Hi," she said to me. My cock started to expand with her touch and she could feel it.

"Wait a minute," Megan said, seeing what was happening. She dried her hands and came to my other side, wrapped her arm around my waist, too, and placed her hand with her mom's on my crotch. By the time Megan got there, I was already pretty hard and getting harder.

"Do you think she had any idea of what you two were talking about?" I said to the two of them.

"Maybe," Megan volunteered. I looked at Sheryl. "She might," Sheryl said.

"Well, if she did, she hid it well," I said as the two of them stroked my cock through my pants fabric. "But, I'm not going to be able to hide this much longer," referring to my cock that was sort of uncomfortably trapped in my underwear. Sheryl reached into my pants and released my trapped cock.

"Better?" she asked. "Much," I replied. Sheryl suggested that I go move my car off the street and into the driveway. With the bulge in my pants now aligned behind the zipper, I left the two of them and walked down the street to my car. Once I got it turned around, I pulled the car into the driveway and locked the car. I was only gone a few minutes and when I re-entered Sheryl's home, neither of them were to anywhere to be seen, at least on the first floor. Megan called down from the second floor and told me that they'd be down in a minute or two.

I settled down on the couch wondering what I should do (while waiting). Should I just sit and wait, should I get undressed? While sitting there, I realized that I hadn't brought any condoms with me since I was expecting only Sheryl and I to be together this evening and she and I had dispensed with the condoms after Megan left and Sheryl had a chance to see my lab report. I heard footsteps coming down the steps and it was Megan.

She was wearing a red lace open top bustier that cupped and supported her breasts like they were mid-1950's Cadillac bumper bullets, without covering her nipples. There were a few ties across her the mostly open back that revealed her ass. She was wearing red stockings, too. But it was what she was carrying that caught my attention in addition to the way her body was accented by her lingerie. She was carrying an IV pole and a red enema bag with a hose and nozzle. She set the pole up near the opposite wall and hung the enema bag on one of the four IV pole arms. It had been quite a while since I had given thought to using an IV pole even though my nursing friend had told me about using them and my buddies in Gainesville, Florida had a couple because their mom was a nurse. I had forgotten how exciting it looked.

"Mom's been telling me about all the exciting things you've been doing," she said as she came and sat down on the couch beside me.

"Really?" I replied. I was a little surprised, but not really shocked.

"Yeah, and I'm a little jealous," she said, "since I know how that nice cock of yours feels inside me. Having her tell me what you've been doing and thinking about it has had me wet and hot ever since I got back to the campus." She reached down for my crotch and began rubbing it as she moved close to give me a long wet kiss.

"I want to fuck you so bad," she whispered.

The feeling was mutual, I assured her. "Patience. It will all happen in due time," I said.

"I know. You're so good to my mom. So good for her, too," she said. Megan started to recount some of the things her mom had told her about our sexual interludes. While I know certain women do like to talk about their sexual experiences with other women, this gave me a different perspective on conversations between a mom and her daughter.

"What's funny," Megan said, "is because of you, I've learned more about my mom and dad were like in their intimate moments than I ever knew before." I was puzzled. She elaborated that her mom had provided some comparisons between the sexual interactions that she and I had and the ones that she and Megan's dad had; what I did that reminded her mom of Steven and what I did that went beyond she and Steven had experienced together. Megan always thought that her mom and dad were deeply connected in their love for each other. My time with Sheryl had revealed that even more through our sexual interactions.

Megan told me that her mom had wanted the three of us to share and experience some intimate time and specific things together and that was one of the reasons she was here tonight.

Several minutes later Sheryl came downstairs. She was wearing the complete (black) lingerie set that she had brought to the hotel (and worn only the garter belt and stockings). She was carrying another enema bag that she hung up on the IV pole.

"Did you bring yours?" she asked me.

"Yes, it's in my bag," I said.

Sheryl walked over to the kitchen area and started the oven. She announced that tonight's dinner was going to be lasagna (which she already prepared and it was ready to be baked). She asked if we wanted some wine. Yes, of course, we replied. Megan and I got up from the couch and went into the kitchen area. Sheryl handed me the corkscrew and the wine bottle while she got us the wine glasses. Sheryl set the wine glasses on the counter next to where I was working to open the wine bottle. I had just removed the foil that covered the cork when Sheryl told me to wait.

"You're not properly attired for this," she said with a smile and a twinkle to her eyes. I told her that I had my satin jumpsuit in my bag if she wanted me to get undressed and change into that.

"Only part of that," Sheryl said. "Megan?"

And with that, the two of them began to undress me. I just let them take my clothes off and enjoyed every moment of it. Of course, I was already erect from being around them dressed the way they were and they released my cock from its bondage of my clothing.

As I stepped out of my underwear, Sheryl said "There! That's the appropriate attire!"