Braided Lives by AR Moler Page A

Danny gave into the exquisitely pleasurable sensations at his groin, bucking into the rubbing and gnawing warmth of Jen's mouth. Everything let loose, a full body shudder and surging sticky heat. The nicely padded squirming body on top of his stilled for a moment, then her knees pushed harder on his shoulders as she ground against Peter's hand. Danny's hand fumbled at Peter's belt and zipper, only getting it open with help from Peter. Closing his hand around Peter's hot prick, he stroked his lover, all the while feeling the build from Jen.
    Peter was almost there, too. Danny reveled in the combined wave of pure lust. A little whimper from Jen preceded her jerky release and she gasped against Danny's hip. Two down, one to go. Danny scooted back a little and managed to squirm out from under Jen just enough to take Peter's cock in his mouth. Lapping across the tip and then sucking it, Danny tipped Peter over the edge, swallowing hard, as his lover came in his mouth.
    They all sagged into a tangle of arms and legs with Jennifer sliding sideways to lie parallel to the headboard.
    "You okay? I didn't bang into your arm, did I?" Peter slurred a little.
    "No, it's fine…" Danny answered. "Jen?"
    "Unh, what? Think my brain's off-line," was her mumbled reply.
    Danny chuckled a little.
    "Next time, there needs to be less clothes involved,"
    said Peter.
    "Next time?" asked Jennifer.
    "Yeah, next time. 'Cause anything this good has to be revisited," concluded Danny.

    ***
    "So how's the forensic course thing going?" Jennifer's mother asked over the phone. Jennifer had told her parents a partial truth about how she was spending her summer. She had spun a tale of a special, invitation-only seminar for forensic sketch artists to help refine her technique and talents. Okay, it wasn't a total lie: that was the primary goal of Division P's training. It just happened to be a lot more specialized and profoundly weirder than that.
    "Fine, Mom. Kind of grueling but good."
    "Meet anybody nice?" Jennifer rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her room for a moment. Oh Lord, how could she even begin to explain to her very Catholic mother her attraction to two separate men who also had their own relationship?
    "Most everybody's been friendly and very helpful,"
    Jennifer replied.
    "Any nice single men?"
    "Mom, I'm not here to find a husband."
    "I know, but you need to look a little harder. You're almost thirty. The biological clock is ticking, honey,"
    her mother said.
    "We've had this discussion before. If children never end up being part of my life, that's okay. On the other hand if you're so hot to have a grandchild, maybe I should find a willing sperm donor."
    "Jennifer! You were raised better than that!"
    "Yeah well, virginity went out the window about ten years ago."
    "I do not want to hear how bad you've been. When's the last time you went to confession?"
    "About eight months ago," Jennifer admitted.
    "Your father would be horrified if I told him."
    "Dad's pretty horrified by my entire life. He thinks I belong barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen."

    "He does not. He thinks you have a very respectable job teaching at the college. He just thinks you ought to focus on that and stay away from all the horrifying things that people tell you about the crimes they've suffered," her mother replied.
    "I help people, Mom. I help make sure that bad people pay for what they've done. Listen, I have to go, class is about to start up again."
    Jennifer hung up and flopped back on her bed. Her mother often got on her last nerve, but talking to her narrow-minded overbearing father was worse. There was actually another hour before she had to be anywhere else.
    Her mind returned to the thoughts she had mostly avoided when talking to her mother. What exactly did she want to do about Peter and Danny? Was her desire to get involved with them just another hard headed rebellion against her family's conservative values? God knows, better than fifty percent of what