Gretchen communicated some courage to her sisters, then took the first foul swallow: her father’s produce slid liquid like a slug down her throat and made her eyes water; Bridget and Eleanor followed suit, sewer-warm mouthfuls of the starch apiece, then George’s potent virility swimming fertile in all his daughters’ stomachs. Maggie turned to her daughters; she didn’t often blush. Tube8 Bridget asked if there had been cucumber. Gretchen looked over at her, and Bridgie blushed, uncertainly smiling back at her sister, though her fingers softly remaining inside Ellie and getting results; Gretchen kissed Bridget on the lips – nicely lingering, entwining tongues, both discovering this would do until the boys their age grew up – now grinning easily again at each other,
