Noah chuckled with me. “Which makes today an utterly insignificant day. Except for us making some arbitrary decisions. Nothing worth celebrating.”
“Oh, for sure.” Sam inched forward, then ran his hand down my cheek, taking my attention away from Noah. “Doesn’t mean we can’t behave like we have an anniversary worth celebrating, anyway.”
Brandon gazed up into the orange sky above us. “Feels like we’re taking the significance out of things if we just party like their no tomorrow on any random day.”
“Hey, we’re celebrating something,” Ryan snapped back. “Our love for this wonderful woman, wife, and mother. Showing her what she means to us every day is always worth celebrating. Next, you’ll be telling us we shouldn’t be marking our seven years, three months, and one week together anniversary either.”
“Oh, man,” Sam complained. “You are starting to sound like, I don’t know, me.”
“You sure you want to be with these clowns, Grace?” Noah whispered, loud enough for them all to hear. “Because I know this little place. You and me, ya know?” And he held me tight while stealing a kiss.
“I’m sure it’s not your turn to get alone time with our woman,” Ryan grumbled. “But fair enough if that’s what she wants.”
Alone time was precious to us all when living in a house of five adults and four little children.
The one thing that most amazed me about the pentuple arrangement was that everyone, from close friends to total strangers, and even our own parents, asked us about our sexual activity arrangements. Not as in what was my favorite position or if we preferred the lights on or off. But did we all get together to do it, or did we rotate one man a day with a strict schedule to make sure it was fair?
I could understand their curiosity. I certainly read up on polygamous cultures since starting my journey, but why would anyone think it appropriate to ask us those questions?
The guys didn’t mind the questions. They found it amusing because, underneath their manly appearances, they were still fourteen years old.
I’d found myself confessing too many details to people who didn’t need to know.
It was great when we were all together; really, that was the best. But spending one on one time with each man was lovely too.
But this was real life, not a fantasy. Real-life with four children meant often we had to make do with what a day throws at us, which often means one of us was tied up with childcare.
“Well then,” Noah said, stealing another kiss from me and holding me tight. “Shall we get this party started?”
“Let’s,” Ryan echoed. He and Brandon were suddenly reinvigorated, despite the energy-draining aspects of fatherhood.
“Guys, careful, I still have a baby girl with me,” I said, fearing they might be jumping too many steps ahead.
He whisked the baby from my arms at my protest, and she did not stir as he held her to his chest. “I have a crib to visit, and I won’t be long,” he said, somewhat optimistically.
Ry and Brandon took my arms and lifted me to my feet, and then Ryan swept me right off those feet and carried me through the house, up the stairs, and toward our main bedroom. I laughed the entire way, quietly, not wanting to reawaken any of the children. Not when there were adult things to do.
Ryan threw me on the bed, and Brandon pounced like a hungry tiger determined to get the first bite of the communal meal.
For a few minutes, I couldn’t stop laughing, but I knew that would change when erotic arousal triumphed over the situation’s funniness.
We laughed a lot, the guys and I. But we had a lot of orgasms, too, and they were definitely coming along next. Even after seven years, they all yearned for me. They all needed me. They all acted like they were still the same sex-hungry teenagers who needed their fix.
And I felt much the same about them. My men, my loves, the fathers of my children, my harem. The best choices I never had to make.