Chapter 12
And They All Lived
Happily Ever After
by knight_b_4@hotmail.com
Story codes: Mff, hum, les, rom, preg
Author’s Note:  This story involves sexual activity between a variety of people, some of whom are underage. If it is illegal in your jurisdiction to read about such things, please delete this story immediately. (And know that you have my sympathies for living in such a repressive atmosphere.) This story is entirely a work of fiction; none of the events described herein actually took place (at least not to the author’s knowledge). The author does not condone sexual activity with minors, although he does recommend most of the following if done with a consenting adult.
This story may be posted with no changes or deletions on a free site, or the free area of a commercial site. The work is copyright 2012 by the author, and all rights are reserved.
And they all lived happily ever after. That’s the way it would end if this were a fairy tale, but it’s not. Oh, everything turned out reasonably well, but it wasn’t all roses.
Judge Olmacher was indeed sympathetic, and the guardianship was quietly made legal and filed away. Since we lived in a different part of the district, I got Christie transferred to a much newer and nicer school, the same one Lily attended. I was surprised, although I suppose I shouldn’t have been, to find out what a good student Christie was. She’d been pulling a B+ average at her old school, and did even better in the new one, eventually graduating very near the top of her class. I knew she was smart, I just hadn’t realized she was studious, too.
Junior finally decided to join us a little over three months after the rescue, after nearly 30 hours of fairly hard labor. The hospital was reluctant to let me in the delivery room, even after I showed them the guardianship forms, but Lily finally bulldozed them into letting both of us in. He was a little over 5 pounds, small but healthy, and already sporting a thick cap of auburn hair. Newborns are ugly; they’re purplish, covered in white crud, prunish and nasty looking. He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Christie had told me she was going to name him Jason Edward, but when it came time to fill in the birth certificate, she named him Harold (for me) Christopher (for her). When I asked why she’d changed her mind, she said she hadn’t- she’d planned that name since shortly after we got together and just wanted to surprise me. Little Harry, as he quickly became known, suffered the curse of all newborns of having to train his parents, but we were quick learners and it seemed like almost no time at all before he was crawling and then toddling happily around the house.
In October, Christie turned 14 and Lily and I decided to throw a big surprise birthday bash for her. It wasn’t a real surprise to find out this was the first birthday party she’d ever had, and we set out to make it memorable. We invited friends from school, the Crenshaws, the Towsleys (since she’d become fast friends with Sheila), Charlene, Joanne, Rose and a handful of others. I had the local bakery make a huge sheet cake with her picture on it and had them mix in 14 (well washed) $1 gold coins. Whoever found a gold coin got to pick a prize from the prize table.
We had barbecued chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and a ton more food and drinks. (We were still eating the leftovers a week later.) We played games, cranked the stereo up too loud, danced, and had a great time.
The last guest finally left at nearly midnight, even though it was a school night. Lily had permission from her parents to spend the night, so she stayed and helped Christie and I finish the cleaning up. When the last bit of food was packed away, the last bit of trash picked up, and the cake carefully covered in plastic, we all collapsed on the couch. Christie cuddled up next to me, while Little Harry slept in his baby carrier.
“Thank you, you two, for the best birthday ever,” Christie said. “You guys are great, and I love you both so much.”
I grinned. “Seems like it wasn’t that long ago that you couldn’t even say ‘the L word’.”
“You make it easy for me, handsome,” she said, smiling. “I feel loved, for the first time ever. And I’m safe, and I’m happy, and life is good, and I have the sweetest little baby in the world, and a wonderful wonderful man who loves me, and a horny little slut of a best friend who loves me too.”
“Does that mean I can lick your pussy later,” Lily asked.
Christie laughed. “Maybe. If you ask nice. And can get Harry’s dick out of it long enough.”
“You know, dear,” I said, “the day isn’t quite over yet. There’s still one more birthday surprise for my little sweetheart.”
“Oh, Harry, you’ve done so much. What’s left?”
I walked over to the computer desk and pulled out the second form I’d had Christie’s mother sign. I walked back to the couch and went down on one knee.
“In this state, a girl can get married at 14 with a parent or guardian’s approval.” I unfolded the paper and handed it to her. “I got your mother to sign a consent form when she signed the guardianship papers. And so, Christie Moore, now that you’re officially 14, would you consider marrying an old man who loves you very, very much?” Her eyes were wide and shiny, and got wider and started leaking tears when I reached into my pocket and pulled out a jewelry box with an opal engagement ring.
“Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “You can’t mean it.”
“I do indeed, my lovely love. I can’t imagine life without you and Little Harry. I love you both with all my heart and soul, and I’ll be the best husband I can possibly be and try as hard as I can to help you be happy.”
She threw herself off the couch, tackling me and kissing me all over the face, then wrapping me in a tight hug and sobbing into my shoulder. I held her and stroked her hair.
“So, is that a yes?” I finally asked.
She laughed. “Of course it is. Oh, I love you so much. But you don’t have to marry me. I’ll live with you forever and ever or as long as you want me, no matter what.” I pulled back and looked deeply into those shiny green eyes.
“I want to. So very much. I want the world to know how much I love you. I don’t want to be Mr. Potter and his ward Christie Moore. I want to be Mr. and Mrs. Potter, now and forever.”
We were married that December, the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.
It might’ve raised questions if I as her guardian had granted her permission to marry me, her guardian. That was why I’d had Christie’s mother sign the marriage paper. Doug had another quiet word with Judge Olmacher, the guardianship paper disappeared, and the consent to marriage form was approved. It was a small wedding at Christie’s request, performed in Judge Olmacher’s courtroom. Christie was radiant in a lavender dress, and Lily stood up as maid of honor with Joanne as matron of honor. Doug was my best man, and Mr. T. was my only groomsman. The Crenshaws were there, and Sheila, and half a dozen school friends, and that was all.
That was 25 years ago and here it is, 2031. I’m 71 now, and my darling teen goddess is a grown woman nearing 40 (and still a goddess). I adopted Little Harry shortly after we married, and he’s now a grown man with three kids of his own, two-year-old twin girls and a newborn son. His sister, Lily Joanne, is 22 and just finished earning her bachelor’s degree in journalism. Younger sister Carmen Marie (Carmen is Christie’s middle name, and Marie was my mother) just graduated high school, and will start college in the fall. She’s not sure what she’s going to major in yet, but she’s as smart and determined as her mother and siblings, so whatever it is she picks, she’ll be good at it.
It hasn’t all been happily ever after. Like any other married couple, we’ve had our fights and arguments, especially during those early years. Christie was, after all, a teenager. And even if she wasn’t a typical teen, there were still times of stubbornness and teen rebellion, and angry words, and stupid arguments. But we always worked it out, and we never stayed mad long and overall we probably had fewer problems than most married couples.
Christie graduated near the top of her high school class despite being pregnant with Little Lily most of her junior year. Since I worked from the house, I was able to take care of Little Harry and then Lily when she came along, and I have to say I really enjoyed being “Mr. Mom”.
We stuck to that routine after we moved to a bigger house and Christie enrolled in the university. She earned her degree in elementary education, just missing being valedictorian by a few points. After a year spent as a substitute, the school district hired her full time, and Mrs. Potter became a fourth grade teacher. She still is, although she’s had years when she’s taught third or fifth grade instead. She never wanted to become a principal or any kind of administrator; she was a teacher and proud of it, and thought that was a better job.
I finally quit working about three years ago. We have more than enough saved up, and she’s earning a pretty good income now. I putter about the house, go over and spoil my grandchildren, do the housekeeping, and just generally goof off. Like Sheila, I’ve developed arthritis, but it isn’t too bad yet, and I still manage to move around fairly well.
The Towsleys, of course, died years ago, but not before “adopting” Christie and eventually Lily. When she died, Sheila left Christie a locket, one Christie had admired. One side had a picture of the Towsleys as a young couple, and the other side was blank. Christie put a picture of us in the other side and has rarely taken if off since.
As for Lily, well, she’s still Lily. I don’t know if she actually popped Little Harry’s cherry or not, but they certainly had opportunity. I never asked, and don’t really want to know. Certainly the two adored each other from the start, and Lily claims she was the first one he smiled at. (“Gas my ass, that was a smile, damnit!”) Growing up, Little Harry was never far from his Aunt Lily whenever she was around. If she was his first, he was a lucky kid, not just because Lily was very good in bed, but because his first time would’ve been with someone patient and caring, and someone who loved him very much. Who could ask for a better partner in losing your virginity?
She was a frequent guest in our home (and in our bed) all through her high school and college years, and later. She too graduated at the top of her high school class, and went on to college to become an architect. (You may have heard of her- she designed the new National Gallery of Art building in Washington after they decided the old one had to be replaced.) She’s still the horniest gal I know, even if she’s toned it down over the years and has actually learned discretion. Her husband has been a big help in that. He has no problems with her having sex with others, and he has the same freedom. Neither regard it as cheating or infidelity; they tell each other about their escapades, and the stories often lead to torrid sessions with each other. They have one of the happiest, healthiest marriages I know of.
Joanne never married, and is still at Murray’s. She owns the place now; Murray retired and sold it to her on very good terms. The original diner was destroyed in a fire about 5 years ago, but she rebuilt it bigger and better and it’s always packed these days. Murray still drops in once or twice a week “just to see how the place is doing and if you need any help.” He and I usually meet there Tuesday mornings and sit around drinking coffee and chatting, “just a couple of old farts with too much time but not enough energy to get into trouble” as Murray says. Joanne’s a doting grandmother and now a great-grandmother, too. Her son’s eldest daughter, Anne Marie, married Little Harry, so now we’re related to the lady who helped get Christie and me together.
Charlene, like Christie, had a rough young life, and also like Christie managed to overcome it. She enrolled in the university in the fall of the year Christie and I got together, and spent the next five years working at least two jobs and working on her degree. We helped when we could, although she was always a little touchy about wanting to make it on her own. She graduated fairly high in her class with a degree in business management and got a job with one of the local manufacturing firms. While in college, she met a young girl (14 at the time) and fell deeply in love. The two of them stayed together and when the girl turned 18, she and Charlene moved to Massachusetts and got married. As I write this, the two of them are still together and have two healthy, happy children, one about to graduate high school and the other just entering it. (The children are not adopted; Charlene and Alexis each had a child with a different surrogate father. I’m more than a little proud to say Charlene asked me to be the father of her daughter, Katrina. Katrina doesn’t know I’m her father, but Christie and I do, and even if we don’t see her often, we’re proud of her.) Charlene’s a mid-level manager at one of the bigger Boston banks, and Alexis works for a small but growing natural history museum.
Christie’s mother? Well, Lily had a little talk with her friends Tom and Ryan, and the following Friday night, the guy Christie’s mother was with was pulled over for drunk driving. He was arrested for that, and she was arrested for drunk and disorderly when she started screaming at them. He got jail time (third offense) and she got probation (first offense). When her next “date” was pulled over the following Friday, she kept her mouth shut and avoided arrest, but went home (in a cab) alone. And the next night, Saturday, she and her man-of-the-moment were again pulled over. This time, the officers suggested that she might want to find another place to do her drinking, perhaps in a distant town.
But Christie’s mother is stupid as well as stubborn. It took two more weeks and four more arrests (and no sex for her that whole time) before she gave up. A week later, she left town and we never heard from or about her again. (I tried looking her up on the net one time, but didn’t find anything conclusive. There was a Diane Moore in Kentucky who was killed in a drunk driving accident about three years later, but we couldn’t be sure it was her. When I told Christie, she wasn’t at all upset. “If it was, so what?”)
Christie’s need to have sex with anyone and everyone diminished fairly quickly once she had a stable home life and someone to love her. Oh, she still had sex with other guys and even a few women over the years, sometimes with my participation, and always with my knowledge and consent. She’s set me up with a few women over the years too, and even one instance with a guy. (I decided it was OK, but not something I wanted to repeat. Dicks are for chicks, you know?) It hasn’t hurt our marriage either. We too realize, like Lily and her husband, that an orgasm with another person doesn’t mean there’s one less for our spouse. It’s an infinitely renewable resource, and a very pleasant one at that.
So that’s the story of Christie and me. We’ve had a great life together, raised three kids, lived, loved, tried to be happy. We’ve shared joy and sorrow, struggled through hard times, enjoyed the good ones. And through it all, we’ve loved each other just as hard as we can. I was truly blessed the day a teen goddess decided to assault an old man in a bookstore.
Epilogue
This is Christie, finishing this story for Harry. I never knew he’d done this; he never showed it to me or even mentioned he’d written it. Oh, the memories it brings back, and the joys and the heartaches. I found it when I finally worked up the courage to go through his things.
You see, we buried Harry about a month ago. (And in the back of my head, I can hear him saying, “Well, you sort of had to, since I was dead and would start stinking up the place.”) He died peacefully in his sleep at 77, not really old as things are these days but after a full, long, rich life. Harry lived long enough to see his namesake Harry get married and have four kids, daughter Lily have two, and Carmen get engaged. Together, we raised three fine kids, and I think our grandkids are going to turn out to be good people too.
Harry always had a blind spot about the young girl he met in that bookstore. He always saw me as his “teen goddess” instead of the seriously screwed-up kid I really was. He never realized I wasn’t “a sweet little lady who was comfortable with her sexuality at a young age,” the way he saw me. Instead, I was a fucked-up little girl who tried to use sex to replace the love I craved from a father I never knew and a mother who never cared. Or maybe he did know, but could see beyond the screwed-up little slut I was to the loving, responsible person I could become- with his help. I’ll never know for sure. I just know I’d have had a pretty crummy life without Harry walking into it.
Almost 30 years of marriage, and Harry was always faithful to me. Oh, I don’t mean he never had sex with another woman; I know he did, because I was there for most of ‘em and arranged more than a few. But his heart was always mine, no matter where his penis was, just as my heart was always his. I think we exchanged them that first day in the bookstore, even if we didn’t realize it at first. Or at least, I didn’t.
Harry is gone now, but he was a good man. And the influence of a good man is never gone completely. It’ll live on as long as our children or grandchildren, or the friends and kids of friends we met along the way, still benefit from the lessons Harry taught- self-love, self-respect, and daring to dream your life could be better.
Rest well, Harry. You were loved while you were here, and you’re missed now that you’re gone. And thank you. From your “teen goddess” Christie, your children and grandchildren, and from all those others you loved and who loved you.
And thank you for helping me finally learn how to say it- I love you.