The next few days convinced Bobby that he was not in a dream. He
didn't understand a lot of what went on, but he recognized that
something wonderful had happened to him. He watched carefully,
picking up information on rules and regulations, which were actually
just a way of behaving that the women insisted on. None of the
children were ever beaten, though the two youngest got swats on the
butt occasionally. The way they cried made it sound like
they'd been beaten, but Bobby knew what a real beating was.
That he had to help out around the house was a given, at least in his
mind. One of his jobs was to replenish all the coal buckets for
the various appliances in the house that used coal. That included
the stove in the kitchen, and another of those amazing water heating
things that hung on a wall above the kitchen sink. It was smaller
than the one in the bathroom. Additionally there were small
pot-bellied stoves set in various places around the house. Not
every bedroom had one, though most did. Mavis had one in her
bedroom and both of the women who lived in the house - Sally and Meg -
had stoves in their rooms. There were ten coal buckets in
all that had to be filled daily. The one in the bathroom
only needed it once, because, as it turned out, baths were only given
once a week. And the buckets in the kitchen needed to be
filled several times a day, since those appliances were used more than
the others, and laundry was done there.
He was also pressed into service outside, once they went to town and
found him clothing and a coat to wear. The local church collected
clothing for them, and when it was learned that a simple-minded young
man had arrived the donations increased. Suddenly Bobby had
more clothing than he had a place to put it all. His bag was soon
full and it took Prudence half an hour to convince him that it was all
right to put his clothes on the shelf in his room. He had tried
to touch nothing in the room other than the bed, because he still
assumed that this room belonged to someone else and he didn't want to
be thrown out of this amazing place for stealing or doing something
wrong.
He found that all meals were like the one he'd walked in on, and that
he didn't have to gorge because they got fed three times a
day. And in the evening, every other night, Meg usually,
but sometimes Donna or Prudence, read to the children from
books. Bobby had looked into the parlor, where those books
came from, and was astonished to see two whole shelves of them, some
thick, most thinner. He'd been afraid to touch them and
left immediately, his fingers itching to caress them and read what was
on their spines.
He found that pantomiming what he wanted was fairly easy, and his
new-found habit of not talking got easier and easier as the need to
talk waned. His needs thus far had been simple. He had far
more now than at any time in his life he could remember.
He'd been at Milleson House for four days when Meg approached him.
"Bobby? That carving in your bag. Did you do that?"
Bobby wasn't surprised that they'd gone through his bag. When
he'd reclaimed it on his second day and gone through it himself, only
the cigarette was missing. He didn't blame someone for
stealing it. He hadn't really wanted it anyway.
You just never turned down anything someone offered you.
He nodded his head.
"It's beautiful Bobby. Why didn't you finish it?" asked Meg.
Bobby pantomimed a knife, opening and closing and then threw it away from him.
"You threw away your knife?" asked Meg, confused.
Bobby couldn't make her understand that it had been stolen from
him. He saw a piece of paper on the table, with a pencil
nearby, where Mavis had been making a shopping list. He
went to the table, flipped the paper over and wrote on the back.
"They steal."
He held up the paper and Meg looked like she might faint dead away.
"You can WRITE?!" she gasped.
Bobby nodded. Everybody could write, couldn’t they?"
Meg actually ran, yelling at the top of her lungs "HE CAN WRITE! BOBBY CAN WRITE!"
Within minutes all five women were in the room, clustered around Bobby,
who thought now that he had made the fatal mistake that would get him
thrown out. There was a general hubbub of noise as the women
exclaimed about this "amazing" ability in a boy they thought had the
mind of a seven or eight year old. Each one examined the words
Meg swore he had written.
Finally Mavis held up her hands for quiet. She turned to
Bobby. "Did you write this?" she asked. Meg snorted
at being suspected of playing a trick ... or worse.
Nobody looked angry and for once Bobby decided not to go with his
natural instinct to deny everything. He took a chance and
nodded.
Mavis put the paper down and picked up the pencil, handing it to him. "Write something else."
A lot of things went through Bobby's mind at that instant.
He didn't know what they wanted, or what would be the "right" thing to
write. He thought of the safest thing and, more slowly than
he needed to, wrote:
"Bobby" and then, as an afterthought, beside that, "thank you".
To the women it looked like he had tried to write a sentence: "Bobby thank you."
If there had been hubbub before, there was a true celebration
now. Even though the women still thought his mental age to be
young, they had elevated it to maybe ten or twelve, based on his
ability to ALMOST write a complete sentence.
After that the level of baby talk directed toward Bobby went down and
the amount that he was expected to do around the house went up.
Not that he was strained at all. In fact he enjoyed the work he
was assigned. He helped with the children, even feeding one of
the babies for Donna one time when there was a spill "disaster" at the
table which involved changing the clothes of two children and cleaning
up the table, floor and two chairs.
That night it snowed.
Bobby had seen snow before, but never like this. It was western Nebraska, and it snowed two and a half feet.
The next morning he awoke to stretch in his bed, warm and comfortable,
something he was gradually getting used to. Sally, whose voice he
had only heard perhaps ten times in the six days he'd been at Milleson
House, stuck her head through the door and, in her soft lilt, said
"Bobby, you're needed to clear the snow."
She was gone again almost immediately, expecting him to get up and do
whatever was necessary. He rose and rubbed at the thick slick of
frost on the window. His room was on the highest floor of the
house, and through the small clear space he'd made he saw a blanket of
white that covered everything for as far as he could see. He
quickly got dressed and went downstairs.
Breakfast at Milleson House was a casual affair. Mavis got up
early and cooked, leaving the food on the stove to stay warm. The
children were fed by one or two of the staff as they were pulled from
their beds and dressed by the others. So they trickled into the
kitchen in ones or twos, sitting down and waiting until food appeared
in front of them. Bobby had learned, to his further amazement,
that it was all right for him to feed himself whenever he came into the
kitchen, and he did so this day, eating quickly.
No adults were in the kitchen when he got there. He had just
finished eating a strip of bacon when Mavis hustled in, already looking
tired.
"Bobby dear, Donna and Prudence are probably snowed in, since they
haven't arrived yet. I need you to make a path to the street so
that IF they get here they'll be able to get to the house."
Bobby nodded and dressed in the warm coat that was now his pride and
joy. It had belonged to Oscar Hammerschmidt, the banker in
Hampstead, and it had a real fur collar attached to the thick gray wool
that made the coat long enough that it went clear to Bobby's
calves. Another gift from the people of Hampstead was a worn pair
of cowboy boots, two sizes too large, but, when stuffed with newspapers
or socks, stayed on his feet and kept them surprisingly warm as long as
he didn't stay out in the cold too long. Though down in the heel,
they had been frequently oiled over their previous life and were, for
the most part, waterproof. An old coonskin hat that came from who
knew where topped off his costume. He'd never have worn it
back east, but it kept his head toasty warm ... and this place was
different.
Armed with a grain scoop provided by Mavis, Bobby attacked the snow,
which was thankfully light and fluffy. Clearing a path to the
street took him only ten minutes, so he widened it and then expanded it
along the edge of the street in both directions. Next he
shoveled the snow from around Mavis' car, which looked almost
buried. He knocked the snow off the car and then had to shovel
that away as well.
He went back inside and filled all the coal buckets from the big coal bin in the basement.
After that he sat down at the table with a cup of hot tea and waited
for something else to do. He automatically got food for the last
few children who straggled into the dining room. Finally Mavis,
Sally and Meg arrived back in the kitchen and began to feed themselves
and the two babies, who they had gotten up last.
Five minutes later Prudence stomped through the door, her skirt crusted
with snow. She had put on an old pair of bloomers, which were
also crusted with snow and her high topped shoes were white with the
snow frozen to them.
"Sorry," she said tersely.
Mavis waved a hand. "I'm amazed you got here at all. Where
in the world did you find those?" she laughed, pointing at the white
bloomers under Prudence's skirt.
"They're my mother's" said Prudence, grinning. "I'm not
quite ready to wear slacks yet. I thought they'd
help. Besides, it's only six blocks" said Prudence, rubbing
her calves. "I can't feel my legs, though."
It was Bobby who thought of the bathtub. He went and added coal
to the fire they kept burning or banked at all times under the water
heater and blew the embers to make the additional coal catch.
Then he took the big ash bucket, which he had emptied that morning, and
washed it out before filling it with hot water. It was a three
gallon bucket, made of tarnished copper, but he was able to lug it out
to the kitchen, where he set it on the floor beside Prudence, who was
eating.
He pointed at the water, and then at her feet.
"Why Bobby!" she squealed. "How thoughtful!"
She stood up and started pulling her bloomers off, reaching under her
skirt to pull them past her hips. That required some rather
significant wiggling, since the waistline of the bloomers was under the
waistline of her skirt. Then she had to sit to remove her shoes
and pull them off her feet. In the process Bobby was
treated to a long expanse of naked legs, spread in a most immodest way
that Prudence wasn't aware of because all her attention was on getting
her legs and feet bare so she could put them in the hot water.
Meg, however, noticed Bobby's wide eyes as he saw glimpses of
Prudence's bare thighs. Not wanting to embarrass Prudence,
Meg went to stand in front of Bobby, her body blocking his vision.
"Thank you Bobby" she said sweetly, swaying sideways as he
automatically tried to lean to one side to maintain his view of a real
woman's naked legs. "Won't you get her a towel too?"
Bobby figured out what she was doing as he swayed back the other
direction and she went with him. He grinned sheepishly and turned
to go get the towels.
When he came back the women were discussing the fact that school had
been supposed to start back up after the Christmas vacation in two more
days, but now it was likely that would be delayed. Bobby hadn't
though about school since arriving. He'd been to both public
schools and in orphanages that had their own school. He didn't
like the public schools, because everyone made fun of the orphans and
he got into lots of fights. The orphanage schools were
fraught with danger, but that was from adults, not other
students. He wasn't excited about going back to school,
especially if he maintained his mute status. He had no idea how that
would go, but he didn't have any reason to think it would be any fun.
He spent the rest of the day taking the older children outside to play
in the snow. It was deep enough, especially where he had piled it
up with his grain scoop, that he could get on his hands and knees and
dig tunnels in it for the younger children to crawl through. They
loved it.
Ironically it was an adult who introduced the children to snowballs,
and not Bobby. He had thrown a snowball one time that got him a
week in the punishment room, so he didn't think about using snow that
way any more. It was Meg who came outside, dressed in a coat and
dungarees. She threw the first snowball, and she threw it
at Bobby, hitting him on his left hip.
He turned to find her grinning at him and making another snowball, which she also threw at him, but missed.
"Betcha can't hit me," she taunted, trying to dart this way and that,
but foundering in the deep snow. She laughed as she fell down,
but scrambled back up and made two more snowballs which she lobbed
toward Bobby, before he finally made one of his own. He threw
that one and she turned her back, taking the snowball there.
Then the war was on as the other kids mimicked them, and laughter rang
out all over the yard. Everything went fine until, at one moment,
with her coat hanging open, Meg took one of Bobby's snowballs right in
the gap between the first button of her blouse and her chin. The
light snow splattered, driving downward into her blouse and filling the
cleavage in her bra.
Her look of amazement as she automatically bent forward in a vain
attempt to make the snow fall lower, and then her screech, sent bolts
of concern to Bobby's brain. He had hurt an adult!
Meg turned and ran into the house, and Bobby, not knowing what else to
do followed her. He arrived to see her coat on the floor of the
dining room as she danced around.
"It's so COLD!" she squealed.
Mavis looked up from some mending she was doing.
"Of course it's cold. It's winter," she said calmly.
"Noooo I got snow down my blouse!" squealed Meg. Her arms
suddenly disappeared, like magic, as if they had been sucked into the
blouse and then her blouse looked like there were two raccoons
wrestling under it as she reached behind her to unclip her bra.
The garment dropped to the floor, the empty cups upward and crusted
with snow.
"That's better," said Meg, shuddering as she stuck her arms back out the arm holes of her blouse.
Bobby stared. In the heat of the room the melting snow had made
the front of her blouse wet, and her spiked nipples poked through the
pale cloth, dark enough to be seen through the fabric.
Meg looked at Bobby's shocked face, and then down at the two prominent bumps on the front of her blouse and blushed.
"Perhaps I should go put on another blouse," she said.
Mavis laughed. "Unless you want to put ideas in that boy's head I'd say you're right."
Meg bent over and picked up her bra and then dashed for the stairs, and her room on the second floor.
Bobby, astonished yet again that no one was mad at him for what had
happened, turned and went back outside to keep an eye on the other
children.
At supper that night Bobby felt like Meg looked at him somehow
differently than she had before. She didn't look angry, but she
looked at him more often. He was wary of looking back at her.
That night was bath night.
Bobby settled into a chair while half the kids were whisked off to the
big tub and Meg selected a book to read to the others. June Bug
immediately crawled up on his lap and leaned back.
Meg had decided to begin (probably for the fourth or fifth time since
she'd worked at the home) Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and
Through the Looking Glass. A few of the older children had heard
the story before, but that didn't matter. Bobby was hooked
immediately as Meg's hypnotic voice began the tale of the little girl
and the strange characters she interacted with.
He didn't notice as the bath shift changed, and June Bug crawled down
off his lap, to be replaced by Emily, who settled in just as
comfortably as June Bug had.
"You're not stinky tonight" she commented. Bobby wanted to
laugh. Since the last bath night Emily had sat on his lap at
least four or five times. Some nights it was while someone read
to them on the cold evenings. On other nights the big Motorola
radio was turned on. The adults huddled around it, listening to
Walter Winchell or someone else report on the war. Some nights
they listened to the Inner Sanctum, or The Shadow, which held both the
children and adults in thrall as they listened to the drama play
out. Bob Hope was another favorite, though again, mostly with the
adults. Emily sat on his lap then too, if June Bug wasn't
already there, huddling against him during tense moments in the
dramas. She had never mentioned his ... odor ... during those
nights. But, it being bath night again, she apparently felt
compelled to comment.
Meg looked up from the book. "Emily, everybody has to take a bath, whether they need one or not."
Emily smiled "I know. I just like the way he smells," she said,
snuggling against him and pulling his arms around her. She was
still wrapped in her towel, her hair damp.
Donna dropped a towel on her head. "You're not even dry yet,
little missy. Dry off and get dressed or you'll catch your
death of cold.
"I want Bobby to dry me," whined the little girl.
Meg's eyes widened a bit, then relaxed back to normal as Bobby picked
up the towel and ruffled the girl's hair with it. Then he pushed
her off his lap and pointed to the pile of clothing, looking back at
Meg, and then the book in her hands, with a silent plea to keep reading.
Meg went on reading from where she'd left off, even though the kids
listening now hadn't heard the beginning. It didn't matter to
them. They just loved huddling together while Meg's melodious
voice lifted and fell as she illustrated the characters with her voice.
All too soon, at least as far as Bobby was concerned, the other
children were back, capering around naked as they picked out clothes
from the pile on the floor to wear to bed. They dallied, knowing
that, as soon as they were dressed for bed, they'd be hustled off to
cold sheets in dark rooms. He wanted to groan as Meg's
slim-fingered hands closed the book and she stood up.
"Your turn Bobby," she said, looking at him with a glint in her eye.
Bobby followed her, almost eagerly, this time, to the bathroom.
His memory of the last time this had happened to him caused him to
react before they even got there. He knew he should take
his clothes off, but he also knew that, if he didn't, she would take
them off for him. He had enjoyed that last time, so he stood and
waited as she filled the tub with hot water.
The glint was still in her eye when she turned and began unbuttoning
his rough shirt. They had found him a pair of suspenders
somewhere, which had replaced the rope he used to keep his over-sized
pants up, and when she pushed the straps off his shoulders his pants
fell like they had lead weights in them. They caught on his stiff
prong, which bent downwards until the pants were dragged off of them,
and then sprang upward again to slap his abdomen with an audible
sound. It settled then, bobbing in the air as Meg looked down at
it.
She knelt, her eyes glued to his organ, as her hands reached to make
him lift a foot out of the pants. It bobbed again as he did that,
and kept moving as he lifted his other foot too, placing it to one
side. Meg breathed in and found his odor to be much nicer than
last time, like Emily had said. She found herself breathing
deeply as she stood back up and pushed Bobby's shirt off his shoulders,
to leave him standing naked in front of her. She had the
strangest urge to hug him ... to feel his body against hers, and
blushed at her improper thought.
"In the tub" she said, having to clear her throat.
Bobby got in the tub and sat down, this time, without having to be
told. He looked up at the window sill, where the soap was.
Meg felt her nipples tightening under her dress, something that usually
only happened when she was in bed, alone with her thoughts.
She felt the urge to squeeze them, as she sometimes did in the dark,
but resisted. She reached for the soap and got her hands frothy
before she began sliding them over the young man's shoulders and
back. Her sensitive fingertips felt the welts and healed scars
from his past beatings and her heart again melted at the thought of
what this poor boy had been through.
"You're a handsome boy," she said, talking more to herself than to him
... letting her thoughts flow. "A strong boy," she murmured.
Bobby looked at her and grinned. Her hands felt so good sliding
across his skin that he felt an excitement that was both foreign and
welcome at the same time. He thought about her hands on his penis
last time and, when that excitement built even more he suddenly stood
up and faced her, his hips jutting forward, his stiff penis pointing at
her face where she knelt by the tub.
Meg was excited too. She too remembered washing his erection last
time. His actions made it clear that, despite his
simple-mindedness, he felt pleasure, like other men.
She looked up at him, his serious eyes looking down at her.
"You like it when I wash you there?" she said.
He nodded.
Her hand came up and grasped his rod. Both of them sighed as she
squeezed and ran her hand up and down its rigid length. Her other
hand came up and cupped his balls.
"This is handsome too," she said, staring at the head as it was
uncovered and then covered up again by the action of her hand.
She squeezed his balls gently. "And these ... these are
handsome." She watched as his eyes half-closed in
pleasure. "Do you know what these are for?" she asked, half out
of curiosity and half to try to establish his mental level.
Bobby had some vague images in his mind that were based on talk among
boys who made what sounded to Bobby like fantastic claims about what
could be done with the thing in her hand. He knew it was used to
make a baby in a woman, but the how of it was something hazy in his
mind. It had something to do with kissing, he knew.
One boy had said "You kiss the girl and then you make a baby in
her." Bobby had wondered about that. He had seen
people kissing each other ... had gotten a beating, in fact, when he
walked into the kitchen one time while one of the attendants was
kissing a cook, his hands rubbing the woman's chest like Meg had just
rubbed his own. But the cook hadn't had a baby.
As a result of the vagueness of his understanding, Bobby felt the best thing to do was just shake his head "No."
Meg felt a naughty thrill shoot through her at the innocence of his
response. She knew she should stop what she was doing, but his
sexual organs felt so good in her hands that she didn't want to.
He wasn't dangerous, like other men would be in this situation.
"These are very precious to a woman," she said, stroking him slowly,
feeling the bumps and ridges and veins on his staff under her soapy
hands. "They are used for her pleasure, and to give her
children." She felt the organ jerk in her hand and looked
up to see Bobby's mouth open, his eyes wide.
"Have you ever seen a woman naked?" she asked, again for more than one reason.
Bobby shook his head violently this time. He knew a boy who had
peeked into a privy while a woman had been in there and had gotten
caught. They had almost killed him with the "punishment"
meted out for that incident.
Meg giggled. He had looked horrified at the thought.
"It's not THAT bad" she said. "Women can be beautiful
without clothing too, you know."
Bobby went from the fear of being caught doing something wrong, to the
fear that he had hurt this woman's feelings. He wanted to tell
her that he thought SHE was beautiful, but his charade had gone on for
so long now that he knew, without a doubt that he'd be punished
severely if they found out. A beating he could take ... but the
thought of being thrown out of this wonderful place struck his heart
like a dagger.
Meg sucked in a breath as Bobby's hand reached out and he caressed her
cheek with two fingers. His intent was clear. It was a
gentle sweet touch, that communicated what he was thinking.
"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, her voice quivering.
He nodded seriously and she felt her nipples reach full erection as butterflies danced in her belly.
"Thank you," she said softly. "I wasn't talking about me,
though. I'm sure I'm quite ugly without my clothes on."
Bobby didn't know whether this would get him in trouble or not, but
this woman was so nice to him that he took the chance. He shook
his head and touched her cheek again.
Meg felt a shiver pass through her at his second touch. She was
having the most inappropriate thoughts, and she shook her head to clear
them out. In the meantime, her hand had unconsciously begun
moving along Bobby's penis faster. The result was something
neither of them either planned, or expected.
Bobby felt something painfully sweet rushing on him, centered right
where her hands were holding him. He had never had an
orgasm ... had never been stimulated like this, at least not this
long. Therefore he didn't know what was going to happen, and
didn't know what to do about the feelings in his groin. All
he knew was that he wanted her to keep doing what she was doing.
Meg's only warning was the feeling of his balls jumping in her left
hand. The tip of his penis was only five or six inches away
from her face, when the little slit suddenly got wider and milky white
fluid shot out of it. That fluid splatted directly on Meg's
nose, some going into her eyes, and some going into her open mouth as
her hand jerked downward. She was so startled that she froze, and
received another splashing shot in exactly the same place.
Their reactions were amazingly different.
The feeling for Bobby was so powerful and startling and pleasant, that
he wished it would go on forever. At the same time, he
somehow knew that he had just done something bad ... horrible in fact
... and that the punishment would be more severe than anything he had
experienced before. His reaction was to huddle and cover
his head to protect it. He fell back down into the now cooling
water and assumed a fetal position, waiting for the strap or club that
he knew she'd fetch and beat him with.
For Meg, her initial astonishment gave way to fear as well ... the fear
that someone would find out what she'd just done. That gave way
to the sensations of his semen - she knew it was his semen - on her
face and in her mouth. Her more powerful instinct was
to clear her eyes so she could see, and that took precedence over her
instinct to spit out the fluid in her mouth. She brought her
hands up to her eyes, sweeping the thick fluid away from them and
feeling the heat of that fluid, something that surprised her for some
reason. She could see better, but not as well as she wanted
to. She dipped her hands into the bath water and rubbed her wet
hands over her eyes again, clearing them more completely.
When she opened them again, she saw Bobby cowering in the water,
moaning in fear, his back, with its scars turned to her.
She had been unprepared for his penis to ejaculate. She had been
unprepared for his semen to hit her face. She had been unprepared
for it to get in her mouth too. All of those things were still in
the process of being evaluated by her unconscious mind. But
seeing him cowering like that hit a chord in her that she was well
prepared to deal with.
"Bobby" she cooed. "No ... baby ... you didn't do anything wrong
... honey don't be afraid ... I'm not going to hurt you. Nobody's
going to hurt you." She kept repeating those things in her
soothing mellow voice, reaching for his arm. He flinched at
her first contact, and it broke her heart.
"Come on baby," she pleaded. "Don't be afraid."
Bobby felt her hands on him and slowly realized that, once again, he
had assumed something wrongly ... that this place was so different that
he didn't know how to act, or what to expect. He moved his
hands from his face and saw care and concern in Meg's eyes.
He let himself be pulled up, out of the water, and then out of the tub.
Meg hugged him, getting her dress wet. "Ohhh poor baby, you
didn't do anything wrong," she repeated. She felt the water
soak through her dress and pushed him away, turning to get a
towel. He stood, his arms at his sides, as she dried him
off, trying to reassure him that he wasn't in trouble.
"What happened was a normal thing," she told him, sliding the rough
towel over his chest and arms. "It was MY fault,
Bobby. All you did was what your body needed to do."
She knelt and dried his legs and last she ran the towel quickly over
his now-limp penis. Something in her wanted to avoid making that
thing hard again. She wasn't sure she'd be able to avoid doing
again what she'd just done to him.
She stood up and saw amazement in his eyes. The fear was
gone and she wanted to do something to make it stay away forever.
Without thinking, she kissed him.
Bobby had seen people kissing, and had been kissed on the cheek a few
times. He'd never been kissed like this, though. This kiss
was warm, and her lips were soft. There was a strange taste on
her lips and, when she pulled hers off of his, he licked his,
concentrating on that taste.
Meg saw him ... tasting ... and suddenly concentrated on the taste in
her own mouth ... his taste ... that she had just given back to
him. She was astounded that, rather than being disgusted by
his semen in her mouth, she was entranced by his flavor. She
flushed red, thinking that she must be perverted to like having his
sexual essence in her mouth, but she also knew that nothing in her life
had thrilled her as much as what had just happened. If this was
being perverted, she was going to re-think some things. It hadn't
FELT perverted. All either of them had done was act as nature had
intended them to act.
Still, she needed to know how he felt about things. "Are
you mad at me Bobby?" she asked, holding his face in her hands.
He shook his head firmly back and forth.
She kissed him again, and this time, when she hugged him, she didn't
pull away. No one had taught Meg about the French way of
kissing. What she thought about was that she had put some
of his seed on his lips the last time she kissed him, and her tongue
flicked out to take that back. When his tongue flicked against
hers in response, she felt a shock that made her want to be naked with
this man/boy. That was what caused her to stop.
She couldn't assimilate that desire ... the desire to actually mate
with this boy ... into her thought process.
She was panting when she pushed him away.
"OK then," she breathed. "No harm done?"
Bobby nodded and smiled. If this was what bath time was all
about he hoped they would decide he needed a lot more baths.
Meg, for reasons not clear to her, decided to lead Bobby out into the
living room for him to get dressed. It could be presumed, by a
psychiatrist, perhaps, that she secretly wanted to display his limp
penis, to assure the other women that this was just a boy, an not a
sexual being, as she had just discovered. That psychiatrist would
nod his head sagely and suggest she wanted to retain the secret for
herself, and that by showing him flaccid, she impressed on the others
that he had nothing to offer those other women in the adult world.
Interestingly, (and perhaps no surprise to the reader) the psychiatrist
would have been wrong. Mavis' gasp as the naked young man was
revealed to her suggested she was quite aware of his manhood, shriveled
though it might be. Her gasp caused the other women to look to
see what had caught her attention, and there were more gasps.
For Mavis, Prudence and Donna, the gasps went along with feelings none
of them had felt in their loins for a while. Mavis remembered
what it felt like for one of those things to be inside her, long as it
had been since that had happened.
Prudence, being younger, and less time having passed since she felt the
joys of copulation, gazed at what her errant husband had presented her
with on numerous occasions, demanding that she make it stiff so she
could perform her wifely duties.
Donna, whose husband had looked like this for the last years of his
life, unable to get a full erection as he aged, was aware of the youth
and strength lying hidden in that limp thing that swung between Bobby's
legs, knowing that, if full and hard, it would be marvelous indeed to
behold.
The last gasp came, of course, from Sally, who had never seen one that
big, limp or not. It was she who followed her gasp with words.
"Meg, what in the world are you doing?" she asked.
Meg, suddenly realizing what she had unconsciously done, blushed. "Oh my stars. I just forgot how big he is."
Prudence was next. "How on earth could you forget something like that?"
Mavis was next. "Meg! You're positively soaked!"
Meg looked down at her wet dress and thought furiously.
"He's somewhat ... enthusiastic in the water," she said
cautiously. "I don't think he's had many baths in his
life. He ... um ... he splashes around."
Unknowingly, Meg had hit on exactly the right description. All of
the women had bathed a young person who hit the water with his or her
hands happily, splashing everyone within reach. All of the women
succumbed to that image in their minds, of a young child playing in the
water.
"Oh the poor sweet baby," cooed Mavis, going to the pile of clothing
and digging through it. Of course Bobby's clothing wasn't in the
pile. His clothes were folded after being washed, and placed in
the bureau in his room.
"I guess I just forgot about his clothes," said Meg lamely.
Prudence stood up. "Well, he's no baby, I'll tell you
THAT!" She giggled. Then she blushed as the other women
stared at her. "Well he's not!" she insisted. "Not
that I think we should neglect him," she added. "I
understand that we need to help him. It might even be fun!" she
said, recovering.
Mavis gasped again and fanned her face with her hand. "Prudence
you are SUCH a hussy!" she said, her voice strangled. "Now
get that boy some clothes before he upsets the whole house!"
"Too late for that," muttered Donna under her breath. She was
going to have a hard time getting to sleep when she got home. The
rememberance of what one of those things could do was heavy on her
mind. Flitting fantasies of having more babies troubled her sleep
occasionally. It might tonight too. While she
couldn't get pregnant, like she wanted to, but she could at least
experience an orgasm once in a while, with her fingers.
Sally just stared at Bobby's penis, drinking in the sight of something
so forbidden. At least it seemed forbidden to her.
While other women, not counting Meg, of course, got to see them
all the time, she hadn't expected to see one at all, and she wasn't
about to miss the chance to examine it for as long as possible.
"I'll take him," she blurted suddenly. "To get him dressed," she added, blushing.
Meg, who admitted to herself that she would have enjoyed dressing the
boy - even though he didn't need help - also knew that, the way she was
feeling right now, that would be dangerous. And, she needed
to change her dress. She waved her hand at Sally.
Sally took Bobby's hand and led him to his room. Bobby watched as
she went to the bureau and went through it, looking for the butcher's
old nightshirt, that had been donated to Bobby because it had a hole in
it. That hole had been patched, and when the garment was on him,
Bobby thought he looked like he was wearing a dress. But it was
warm, and no one laughed at him, so he didn't mind.
Sally turned, with the nightshirt in her hands.
"Here Bobby," she said softly. "Do you need help?"
Bobby had come to the conclusion that, when these women helped him,
nice things happened, so he nodded and held up his arms, like the
little children did when they were being dressed. He was
taller than Sally, though, and, stretch as she might, she couldn't
reach the tips of his hands to get the garment over them. It did
cause her to press her meager bosom against his chest, though, which
felt nice to both of them. Bobby's emotions, already at a
heightened state, remembered the hug Meg had given him. He
lowered his arms and hugged Sally.
She went rigid in his arms, at first, as scenes of rape and ravishment
shot through her brain. But it was just a hug, which became
apparent quickly as he did nothing other than squeeze her in his
arms. Her hands came tentatively to his back and she felt the
welts and scars there, which shocked her.
Sally pushed him away and spun him, to stare at what none of the women
had seen, because they were all staring at something else.
"Ohhhh you poor thing," she moaned, tracing her fingertips lightly over the stripes. "You've been abused," she said.
Sally might have been mousy, and not popular with the men, even before
the war, so she had no experience with men as ... men. But her
maternal instincts were well developed by having worked with the
children. Her heart, like Meg's before her, went out to the young
man as she saw the evidence of repeated beatings on his back, buttocks
and thighs. She spun him around again, to face her and, like Meg
had, she took his face in her hands.
"No one will do that to you here, Bobby. Do you understand
me? No one will hurt you here," she said softly. Her
fingers slid down his throat to his chest, where they lingered.
She wanted to hug him back, but was suddenly uncomfortable with the
feeling in her stomach. She was disgusted by what had
happened to this boy, but something else made her stomach feel fluttery
at the same time.
"Now, let me get this on you," she said, working the arms of the
nightshirt over his hands and then up and over his head and
shoulders. He dropped his arms and the cloth slid down his body.
But Sally's fingers on his back, and face and chest, along with her
soothing voice, had reawakened in Bobby the pleasurable thoughts of a
woman's smooth hands on his body, and his penis, being young and
virile, had once again stiffened. It had, in fact,
stiffened so much that it angled upward, and the falling cloth caught
on it, suspending that part of the nightshirt, while the rest fell past
his hips.
Sally looked down and felt faint when she saw what had happened.
She staggered backwards, staring at the first erection on a male older
than ten that she had ever seen. The fluttery feelings in her
stomach suddenly turned into a ball of warmth ... lower in her body ...
just above the juncture of her legs.
"Oh my," she gasped.
Bobby stood there, afraid to move. He saw fear in Sally's
eyes, and he didn't want her to be afraid. She was staring at his
penis, like Meg had, but her reaction was different than Meg's.
He didn't want her to be afraid of him ... didn't want her to withdraw
from him. Tentatively he reached and pulled on the cloth,
so it fell, covering him. It still tented out, where his
penis pushed against it, but he couldn't do anything about that.
His actions reassured Sally in ways that no speech ever could have and she relaxed.
"I'm being silly," she said, mostly to herself. She looked
from the lump in his nightgown back up to his face. He smiled
tentatively and she smiled back, just as tentatively, unused to using
those muscles in her face.
"That was a surprise," she said, not knowing what else to say. "Are you all right?"
Bobby nodded.
"Well we can't take you out there looking like that. Mavis would
have a stroke. Perhaps you should just go to bed now," she
suggested.
Bobby turned and climbed into his bed. He felt soothed by what
had happened in the bathroom, but felt his penis wanting to do that
again. He hoped Sally would stroke him, like Meg had, but she
didn't. She did come and kiss him on the forehead.
"Good night sweet prince," she whispered, letting the restraints on her
imagination loosen. Her imagination had to make up for so many
things she didn't have in her life. It was a good
imagination because she used it a lot. She blushed as she
left the room and stopped in the hallway to get control of
herself.
Then she went back downstairs like nothing had happened.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sally wasn't the only woman in the house who acted like nothing had happened.
Something HAD happened, though.
It had happened to all five women, though none of them compared
notes. All five women had seen Bobby's penis and, while only two
of them had seen it hard, all of them knew it could get that way.
That, encouraged by all of them far underestimating his intelligence,
led all of them to think about that penis a little differently than
they would had they seen, say Frank, the storekeeper in town, without
his pants.
Of them all, two reacted more strongly than the others. Donna had
wanted more children after Wally was born, but they waited until he was
four or five to try again, and by then it was too late. By the
time he tried making another baby, his fading ability had left him
impotent for the most part. Donna had been able, for a year or
two, to use her mouth on him and get him hard enough to penetrate her,
but he never stayed hard ehough to bring her to orgasm. So
she was not only pining for more children, she was unsatisfied, and had
to learn to use her fingers. That night, as she stroked her
clit, lying in bed, she thought back on her life, and the life of the
only man who'd claimed her sexually.
Walter, being from the old school, thought that sex was something you
did to make babies, and it wasn't for fun, even though, of course, it
was fun. He'd worked the farm he inherited from his father at the
tender age of twenty, and he had to work hard to make it go ... much
too hard to waste time on girls. The life of a bachelor farmer
came easily to him, because he had no time to dwell on it.
It had been on a winter's night a lot like this one, when it was too
cold to do anything outside, and all the inside work had been done, and
all his books had been read for the tenth or eleventh time, that his
thoughts had drifted to what it might be like to have a warm woman in
bed with him. With a start of horror, as if awakening from a
dream, he realized he was fifty years old and had nothing to show for
his life. The farm supported him, but he had no one to pass it on
to.
Walter Pratt had gone wife hunting the very next day, January the
first, nineteen twenty-eight. It was almost ridiculously
easy. He went to a church social, New Year's Day being on a
Sunday that year, and talked to the only woman who wasn't accompanied
by a man, and who was over the age of sixteen. Walter knew he had
no business marrying a girl, even though that was perfectly honorable
in those days. He wanted a woman who knew how to love a man, and
who wouldn't kill him while he was between her legs.
Donna, at the time, was considered a spinster. She was
twenty-three, and every time her parents tried to get her married off
she did whatever it took to spoil the plan. The problem was that
Donna had gone to finishing school, where she met interesting men, but
had no urge to marry any of them. When she went back home she was
one of the best educated women in town, but it didn't do her a bit of
good. The only jobs available for women were cleaning, and
laundry, or being the servants of the rich folk, none of which appealed
to her. She was stubborn, and it cost her. Eventually
she got work as a nanny, which was fine, as far as that went, until the
man of the house wanted to make more babies for her to care for ... and
not necessarily with his wife. She had stalked out of the house
after slapping the man, abandoning her job in the process.
That had been on December the thirty-first, the night before she met Walter Pratt.
She talked to Walter because she was bored, but soon found him to be a
fascinating man. He was well read and intelligent, if a little
shy, but she found his shyness engaging too. They had
talked for two hours, sharing bits and pieces of their lives and dreams
and disappointments and, at his leave-taking, when he abruptly
suggested that he needed a wife, and she needed a husband, and a place
to lay her weary head, she blinked twice at his effrontery and heard
herself say that she would consider his proposal most closely.
When she thought about it, it made more sense to her than she wished it
did. It provided for her. He was a decent man. He'd
die first, of course, but that left the farm in her name. And if
they could have children, like both of them wanted to, she and her
children could work the land. She didn't think she'd be able to
love him, but then one didn't always marry for love. The only
reason she could think of not to do it was because there would then be
no hope for excitement in her life.
She had accepted his proposal and they were married by Valentines Day.
To her surprise she HAD learned to love him. He was a good man,
and sweet and sensitive. She worked hard - what she was able to
do - but it was good work and it kept her from getting fat on her
own cooking. His was horrible. And she had loved being
pregnant. Knowing that life stirred in her womb had made her feel
complete. Raising Tommy had made her happy, even when Walter
began to be unable to please her in bed. Now Tommy was off
in the war, and might be killed, and she had felt empty ever since he
left. She knew she shouldn't feel that way. She had done
good things in her life, and it hadn't been for nothing. Still,
she yearned in her heart of hearts for more babies to raise and love
... to keep her company in her old age.
When Mavis had changed from a boarding house to an orphanage, it was as
though she had been given a chance to do what she loved most ... care
for children.
Now, as she rubbed her tortured clit, reaching for an orgasm, she felt
pangs of guilt. She wasn't thinking of her dead husband's
penis. What she envisioned in her mind could only be that of a
much younger, more virile man.
A man like Bobby.
Prudence had been exposed to a lot of sex by her husband before he left
for the war, but his skill had been non existent. He
climbed on her, shot his wad, and climbed off, not caring whether she
had reached her peak or not. She, too, had wanted a
child. She, too, had had to learn to satisfy herself with her
fingers.
Prudence lay in her own bed, in her own house, her fingers stuck firmly
in her empty pussy as she writhed under the covers. Her orgasm
came quickly. She was a hot blooded woman and, if she had the
right fantasy in her mind she could cum quickly and often, for as long
as she chose to keep making herself do it.
That was a hollow victory, though, because there was nothing like the
real thing, as far as Prudence was concerned. She was miserable,
even though she had cum twice, thinking about Bobby. Her
husband had left her, or was going to leave her ... she didn't actually
know what her status was. She assumed that there would have to be
some papers to sign or something legal that she'd either have to do, or
that would be delivered to her after it had been done, or
something. She did know that Private Watson was still
paying the rent, or having it paid, because the landlord hadn't kicked
her out yet.
Mavis had offered to let her live in the Milleson House, but she
resisted that. It wasn't because of the women - she liked
them all - and it wasn't because of the children - she loved
them. Rather it was because if she moved in with them she'd
have to admit that it was over ... that another woman had taken her man
... that she wasn't even desirable enough to come home to.
Now she thought about her marriage, and the possibility that she'd have
to move, and the possibility that she'd never have
children. Men didn't want to marry a divorced woman.
There were a lot of things men DID want to do with a divorced woman ...
but marriage wasn't one of them. She had gotten married to
be able to have children. Working with the poor things at
Mavis' house was fine - she loved that - but she wanted her own
children so much it hurt. She had assumed, when she came to
work for Mavis, that all the children were orphaned by disease, or
accident, or perhaps, in the odd circumstance, crime. She
was horrified to find out that a lot of women didn't want their
children in the first place, and simply abandoned them to
die. She didn't understand any woman who would give up a
precious baby, much less let it die for lack of caring. She was
quite sure she could commit murder on such a woman. All the
children that they cared for at Milleson House deserved loving
parents. Even poor Bobby.
Thinking of Bobby made her remember why she'd needed to stroke herself
when she got home. He was really quite a handsome boy, now
that he had a little meat on his bones. His smile was gorgeous,
rare as it was, and his tenderness with June Bug and Emily had brought
tears to her eyes. She remembered that dangling penis he
was so unconcerned about as he stood, naked, in front of five grown
women.
She began rubbing again. This time she was going to cum until she was too tired to stay awake.
Back in Milleson House Mavis lay with her eyes tightly closed, the
vision of Bobby's penis clear in her mind's eye. She'd almost
forgotten what an adult phallus looked like. Her hand stole
to the joining of her legs. It had done that three times
before, and she'd always jerked it back, ashamed that she wanted to
pervert herself. At last, though, she couldn't stand it any
more. With a groan of mingled frustration, satisfaction and
shame, she pulled her night dress up and splayed her legs
open. She was already slippery and wet.
The other two women in Milleson house lay in their beds too, their eyes
wide open and staring at the unseen ceiling. Meg pinched her
nipples, but couldn't bring herself to masturbate. She knew
some women did that, but she couldn't picture herself as one of
them. She had pride. She was stronger than those
other women.
In reality, though she didn't know it, she was only more frustrated
than those other women. That frustration, and the image of
Bobby's erect penis, shooting long streams of semen ... kept her awake
most of the night, tossing and turning.
As for Sally, it was all so new to her that she just lay there thinking
about what she had seen, and how things had felt, and all the new
things she'd experienced. She was excited in the same way a
scientist is excited when he's on the verge of a discovery.
She didn't know what to expect, or what would happen, but she knew it
would be interesting. Sally's dull, gray life had been boring for
as long as she could remember. Interesting was so much more
... interesting.
Bobby had lain in his warm bed, in this amazing house, with its
fantastic practices, and had just relaxed. Relaxing was not
something Bobby had much experience at, and it felt almost
decadent. He felt twinges of conscience at fooling the
women, all of whom were so nice that he was sure now that some kind of
mistake had been made. No one he knew would have
intentionally sent him to this wonderful place. It was too
late to just yell "Surprise!" and laugh at the big joke. He
knew, beyond any doubt, that their feelings would be hurt. They'd
find out he wasn't simple-minded ... that he could read just as well as
Meg and Donna did ... that he was perfectly capable of taking his own
bath.
He thought about the baths. He hadn't counted on that
happening, but he was glad it had. The feel of Meg's hands
on his skin - everywhere, not just on his cock - was almost
indescribably wonderful. He'd cut out his own tongue if it
ensured that Meg would bathe him for the next year or two.
Then he thought about the feeling in is cock when it had
squirted. He'd thought something was wrong with him at
first. The pain had come on him like a rushing freight train and
had stabbed directly through his penis and into his aching balls.
Her hand moving had caused that pain. He knew that
now. And then the pain in his balls had reversed and come
back out his dick as the most intense pleasure he had ever felt.
Ecstasy is something a lot of people feel rarely. It has a lot of
definitions, but ecstacy, in this case, was the sudden experience of
unanticipated joy. That's rare, in the sense that we have
expectations of joy usually. We plan for it, and reach for it,
and when it arrives it is expected. That's fine, but when it's
UN-expected, the feeling can be overpowering. Not only Bobby, but
Meg too had experienced ecstasy that night.
Somehow, he knew that if he rubbed his own cock, he could make that feeling come back.
But he didn't.
That was saved for Meg to do. If she refused to do it
again, then he'd do it for himself. But only if she refused.
His relaxation ended abruptly and violently as a piercing scream cut
the air in the dark, quiet house. Patrick screamed again, a
wailing, horrified, blood curdling scream and Bobby bolted up out of
bed. He dashed out into the hall and down to the second floor,
where he threw the door open, expecting to find someone beating the
daylights out of poor Patrick.
Bobby's eyes had become accustomed to the dark. What he found was
Patrick, eyes wide open, tears running down his face, leaning against
the iron bedstead with the covers pulled up to his chin.
His roommate, Terrence sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.
Patrick was babbling and, when he saw Bobby, his hand jerked forward
and he pointed to the closet door in the corner of the room. In
the darkness Bobby saw something move on the face of the
door. He realized instantly that what he was seeing was
moonlight, bouncing off the snow, and being broken up by tree branches
moving in the wind outside. He moved to the window and closed the
curtains, just as Sally and Meg came running into the room, panting
from their dash up the stairs. Meg had a kerosene lamp in her
hand.
"What's WRONG?" she shouted, elevating tensions in the room just by her own tense reaction.
"The Umpelty Oog!" squealed Patrick. "The Umpelty Oog!" he screamed.
Meg stared and looked upward, slumping. Sally sighed at the
same time. Mavis came puffing up the hallway, asking what
was wrong.
Meg moaned. "Patrick says he saw the Umpelty Oog." She
turned, angry now that she'd been pulled out of bed for this.
"Patrick, how many times have I TOLD you there IS NO SUCH THING as the
Umpelty Oog!"
Patrick cried now. "But I SAW him" he pleaded. "I saw him!"
Jenny, Emily and June Bug appeared in the open door, huddling
together. Their room was right next door to this one. They
looked terrified too.
Bobby recognized the women doing what all adults did ... ignore
children's fears and concerns. He'd always thought adults just
didn't care, but he couldn't think that about these women. They
had shown him too many times that they were different. He'd
seen what had convinced Patrick that something was moving in the
corner, so he understood that Patrick could believe in the imaginary
beast. And he knew that if they all just left, Patrick
would still believe that he was in danger.
Bobby slapped the closet door with the flat of his hand. The boom startled even him.
"What?!" cried Mavis and Sally.
Bobby put one finger up to his lips, in the universal signal to be
quiet. Then he tiptoed over to Meg and took her hand, pulling her
toward the closet. She resisted at first, but then
curiosity overcame her unhappiness at being jerked from her warm bed -
even though she couldn't sleep - for this nonsense.
When he got her to the closet door, Bobby began a series of pantomimes
that included taking a deep breath and then opening his mouth
widely. He took her hand and traced the letters
"S-C-R-E-A-M" into them and then pointed at her.
"You want me to yell?" she asked.
Bobby nodded and then went through the whole plan one last time. He would jerk the door open and she would scream.
Her eyes got wide.
She whispered "You want me to scare the Umpelty Oog away?"
Bobby nodded again.
Meg smiled widely. She stood up and turned around. Everyone
in the room was watching them like they were monkeys in the zoo.
Bobby and I are going to scare the Umpelty Oog away. Cover your ears please," she said smoothly.
Of course nobody covered their ears. But they should
have. When Bobby jerked the door open Meg let out all her
pent up passion and frustration in a blood curdling scream that, had it
been summer, with the windows open, would have brought men running from
four houses over. Bobby slapped the closet door three or four
times and then slammed it closed. Then they turned to see
what their audience thought.
Mavis had one hand over her heart, and the other over her
mouth. Sally had both hands over her mouth.
Patrick and Terrence both sat, their eyes round as saucers, their
mouths wide open, and their hands gripping their covers.
Mavis snorted and then bit her tongue to keep from laughing. She
went to the bed and urged Patrick to lie back down. Then she
tucked him in securely.
"Well, if I were the Umpelty Oog I surely wouldn't want to stick around
here ... not with Meg screaming at me like that. And I bet
he's afraid of Bobby too. He's used to little boys and
Bobby just plain scared him away, don't you think so?"
Patrick's saucer eyes blinked and he nodded hopefully.
"Of course he did. Now you just go to sleep. I don't think
the Umpelty Oog will be back to bother you again tonight."
Everyone filed out. In the hallway, Meg had an excuse to hug
Bobby again, this time with only a thin night dress ... well, two of
them, his and hers ... but both thin ... between them. She
kissed his cheek warmly as her unfettered breasts pressed against his
chest. "Thank you Bobby," she said. "That was just
brilliant."
Bobby held on, feeling the heat of her breasts coming through the cloth
between them. She let go of him before his prick could become
fully erect and push into her.
Then everybody went back to bed.
For Bobby and Meg, things were very much like they had been before the excitement.
The next day Bobby made some preparations for future events. With
all the snow on the ground, it was difficult, but he finally found a
suitable stick, of suitable thickness, that made a satisfying and loud
snapping sound as he broke it across his knee. Based on what he'd
heard, he smuggled two lengths of the stick into the house, hiding one
in Patrick and Terrence's closet and the other in the room that held
Jenny, Emily and June Bug.
Then he went about his normal chores, filling coal buckets, clearing
the walk of blown snow and playing with the children. Donna
called to him to come with her for the marketing and he put on his
coat, boots and the ridiculous but warm hat he now owned. He
followed Donna to the Dry Goods store and she loaded him up.
"Bobby, you wait outside," she said. "I want to talk to Mister Robinson privately."
It was while Bobby was outside that he overheard two women talking
about how school would be starting up again the next day. His
spirits sank.
Donna came out and hustled back home, clutching her purse, which
consisted of an ornate cloth bag with a drawstring that kept it closed,
and which she could loop around her wrist. Bobby trudged
along behind her and, when they got back home, into the dining room,
dumped all the parcels he had carried onto the table. He
automatically started putting things away, while Donna called all the
women together and they huddled. He heard exclamations and
clapping and then Mavis called to him.
"Bobby, would you come in here please?"
He went and found all five women standing in a semi-circle, smiling at him. Mavis had something in her hand.
"Bobby, what you did last night was a fine thing ... a caring thing ...
and we all felt like you should be rewarded. This is for
you."
She held out her hand and opened it. In it was a brand new
pocket knife. Bobby couldn't believe his eyes. It was
beautiful, with a dark wooden handle. He'd never seen anything so
beautiful.
"Go on ... take it," urged Mavis, moving her hand closer to him. "Now you can finish your carving."
Bobby picked up the knife reverently. In etched letters on a
brass plate were the words "Old Timer". It had two blades.
One blade was short, with a blunt tip, while the other was longer and
very sharp at the tip. He dragged the edge of the blade across
one fingertip crosswise, and felt the keen edge dig into his
skin. It was fabulously sharp. Tears welled up in his
eyes. No one had ever given him a present before
this. He was suddenly ashamed of his tears, and wiped at
his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the knife.
Quite suddenly he was surrounded by women, who were also crying and
smiling at the same time. That morphed into a big hug, with all
of them trying to hug him and each other at the same time. He put
his arms around as many of them as he could.
"What are you doing?" piped a young voice.
The women either turned, or looked over their shoulders to see Terrence
standing alone, looking curiously at the group of crying people.
It just so happened that Meg was on Bobby's right in the group, where
his arms had gone around them. And, it so happened that,
when she heard Terrence, she turned to face him. It was
coincidence that she both turned outward from the group, rather than
inward. And it was a further coincidence that Bobby's right
hand, the one that wasn't holding the knife, was at the same level as
Meg's breasts.
The result of so many coincidences was that Bobby's hand ended up
filled with soft breasts. His hand slid across one mound and then
landed on the other before the woman realized what was happening.
She inadvertently froze at just the time that her right breast filled
his hand. That hand just naturally flexed to cup what was in it.
Meg's face flamed and she made herself move, astonished to find that
she didn't want to. That hand cupping her breast felt nice
in a way that she was completely unprepared for.
Mavis had turned in the same direction and, though she hadn't seen what happened, she saw Meg's pink flush.
"Whatever is wrong with you?" she asked, reaching up to cup Meg's chin
in her hands and looking at both sides of her face. Bobby's
hand had dropped to his side by now.
"Is it hot in here?" Meg asked nervously.
The group broke up to tend to children in various places around the
house, leaving Bobby to examine his new knife. He went
immediately to his gunny sack, which he still kept under the bed in his
room, and removed the lump of wood that was only partly finished.
Then he took it to a chair beside the coal stove, sat, and began
working on it. His new knife was much sharper than the one
that had been taken from him, and the carving proceeded quickly.
No one bothered him, and by suppertime the dog was almost
complete. It sat, on its haunches, head tilted, one ear up,
tongue lolling. It was beautiful. All the women
examined it closely, praising Bobby's uncanny skill at giving life to
the dead wood.
Because school was to start up again the next day, an extra bath night was thrown into the schedule.
This particular night, both June Bug and Emily were in the group that
remained to listen to the story while the others were taken for
baths. There was immediately competition between the two as both
tried to climb up on his lap at the same time. He solved
that problem by putting one on each thigh and wrapping his arms around
them. His eyes met Meg's and, again, he saw that glint in her eye
that went with a look on her face that he usually didn't see.
They got through another fifteen pages of Alice's adventures.
When June Bug and Emily were taken off to bathe, and Bobby's lap was
unencumbered, he got down on the floor and helped dry and clothe the
naked children from the first shift. It was eerily silent, as it
always was when Meg was reading. The children stood, rapt, their
attention concentrated on Meg's voice as their arms were lifted and
night clothes were placed on their unresisting bodies.
That silence vanished, of course, when Meg closed the book. There were cries of "More ... read some more" and "Not yet"
June bug and Emily, who were roommates, came to Bobby and each took a hand, dragging him to their room on the second floor.
"We want you to tuck us in," piped Emily. Jenny stood nearby nodding.
Prudence looked at Donna. They usually took the second floor
girls at bedtime. Donna shrugged her shoulders and grinned.
"Looks like somebody has some new girlfriends," she said softly.
Meg called out. "Hurry back Bobby, you have to take a bath too."
"You need any help with him tonight?" asked Prudence, giggling.
Mavis snorted. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Pru!"
Prudence laughed. "Why Mavis, whatever do you mean? Surely
you don't think that just because the man I used to have has been gone
for two years, and probably isn't coming back, that I'm on the prowl
for a replacement."
Mavis smiled. "You can't fool me Pru. I know exactly what you were thinking."
"Mavis!" laughed Prudence. "I'm shocked!" She got a sly
look on her face. "And, based on what you just said, YOU are
thinking exactly the same thing!"
Meg, who had indeed been re-evaluating her stand on a few things,
didn't like the way the conversation was going, put a frown on her
face. "I certainly do NOT need any help with the poor
boy. Especially from two hussies who can't control their
thoughts!"
Donna laughed out loud. "Make that THREE hussies, Meg. Don't forget poor little me."
Meg felt guilty, because if she did what she wanted to do tonight,
she'd be a much worse hussy than any of them. But she relaxed as
they went on with their normal routine.
Bobby bounced back down the stairs and stood beside Meg, docile while
she finished diapering the baby and then handed him to Sally, who had
the toddler on her other hip. Mavis came and took the baby
so that Sally could hold four year old Johnny's hand as they went up to
the room those three were in.
Meg turned to Bobby. "Are you ready?" she asked.
He nodded, with just the hint of a smile on his face. He could feel his penis getting stiff already.
This time Bobby undressed himself, while Meg set about filling the
tub. She was already nervous when she turned around to look at
him. Her eyes widened as she saw him standing placidly, his erect
phallus pointing at her. Her eyes darted to the door, and
the skeleton key that hung on a nail high up on the door jamb.
She looked back at Bobby's rampant prick and the tingle that went
through her made her move. She went to the door, got the key and
carefully inserted it in the lock, turning it until it clicked.
Then she replaced the key on the nail and turned around.
Her hands unconsciously went to cover her abdomen.
"Bobby?" she said.
He looked at her.
"I thought that ... um what with my dress getting all wet last time
that ... if I um ... took it off, it wouldn't get wet and I wouldn't
have to go change when we're done," she finished in a rush.
He stared at her. Had she been closer to him she might have seen
his pupils dilate. She also didn't notice his prick angle up
slightly more than level.
"Is that all right?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Bobby didn't know what to do. Just the thought of her
without her dress on made his balls and penis feel almost like it had
when it squirted. He had the urge to grab his cock and
squeeze it, but controlled himself. He didn't think that would be
the right thing to do right now. For lack of anything else
to do he nodded.
Meg fiddled nervously with the buttons on the front of her dress. "Have you ever seen a woman ... naked?" she asked.
Bobby had no trouble shaking his head. It just came
naturally. His cock moved upward even more, beginning to point at
her face now.
"This is only so I don't ruin my dress," she said, trying to convince herself.
When Bobby just kept standing there Meg took a breath and began
unbuttoning the bodice of her dress. She wasn't wearing a bra tonight.
The stiff fabric parted to expose creamy white skin. She
couldn't tear her eyes away from his as she pushed one shoulder, and
then the other off, and the dress slid down, catching on the swell of
her hips. She had to fight her arms to keep them from
covering her breasts. Bobby's mouth dropped open, his eyes
riveted to her naked chest. Taking another breath Meg
pushed the dress down and it fell in a pool around her
ankles. She suddenly knew that, when she took her panties
off, they'd be damp. Bobby's docile attitude actually fed her
confidence and she stepped out of her dress, hung it up on another
nail, and then bent quickly to pulled her panties down and
off. When she stood, she was naked for the first time in
her life in front of a man. Her hands fluttered at her
waist, wanting to cover her groin and her breasts. She fought
that urge too.
"Let's g-g-get you in the tub," she croaked.
Ecstasy, that unexpected intense joy, can change the way you look at
the world. It had changed Meg. She had already done
something that, a month ago she'd have slapped a man for suggesting she
do. Now she was naked, something else that was unchacteristic for
her.
Meg had decided that she had to feel his skin against hers. She
had dreamed of it and fantasized about it and the need to feel him
against her had grown until she felt like she might burst. The
tub was easily large enough for two - they put four children in it at
the same time with no problem. She helped him step into the
tub and then stepped in with him, the warm water rising to her calves.
"N-n-now you sit down and I'll wash your back," she said, breathlessly.
When he sat she did too, extending her legs beside him so that he sat
between them, with his back only inches away. She reached
up and grabbed the soap and began to wash his back with her
hands. Now, besides feeling the ridges left by repeated
assaults on him, she could see them too. Her emotions, already
stretched to the breaking point, flooded out and she sobbed twice
before being able to control her voice. The last thing she needed
was for someone to come knocking at that door wanting to know who was
crying and why. And then wanting to know why the door was locked.
Her arms went around him and she pulled him back against her, her hands smoothing along his chest.
For Bobby, the feel of her hands, replaced by her soft breasts pressing
into his back, almost made him cum. He concentrated on the feel
of her fingers as they swept across his nipples, stopping momentarily
to explore them. He heard her sob and didn't understand how
anybody could be unhappy in this situation. He turned, his
eyebrows raised and caught himself just as he was about to ask what was
wrong. Her face was right there, by his cheek as he turned
his upper body. He remembered how good her kiss had
felt. If he kissed her would it make her feel good
too? Her wide eyes stared into his as she panted. He
twisted a little more, leaning back against the side of the tub and her
arm raised to go around his neck.
Bobby leaned forward to touch his lips to hers.
Meg had only thought about the feel of his skin on hers.
There was a cloud of misty thoughts beyond that, but they were formless
and drifting. Now, with his face so close to hers ... his
lips just inches away ... she didn't know what to do. When he
kissed her, her mind exploded into stars and she needed to touch
herself, like she wouldn't let herself do in the dark of night in her
bed. She couldn't reach her pussy, though, because his hip
was digging into it.
Instead she reached for his prick.
The kiss electrified both of them and they ground their lips together,
their tongues clashing as their mouths opened. His hand came up
to reach for her face, but he couldn't quite reach it. It settled
on her breast again, his fingers naturally gravitating to her
nipple. His fingers, just as naturally, explored that
turgid bump, as hers had his own, and that one little squeeze brought
Meg off like a bomb. She had not thought to have an orgasm
... only to feel his skin ... and her loins exploded where his hip
pressed against her clit, ecstasy blowing her mind clear of all thought
for a few seconds. Her hand gripped his shaft so hard that
he grunted and she immediately let go, unable to concentrate on what
was happening in her body and tend to his at the same time.
Her own groan of release she managed to keep in, except for the sound
that she let loose into his open mouth.
Meg slumped back against the back of the tub, eyes closed, weak from
her experience. Bobby twisted more, nervous that something had
happened to her, and gave a sigh of relief as she opened her eyes.
Her head lolled and she looked at the door. Suddenly
realizing it was locked, and had been locked for quite a while, she
surged upward, pushing Bobby to the front of the tub.
"You stay right there until I get things back to normal," she
whispered. She stepped out of the tub, running a towel over
her body and stepping back into her dress. She hurriedly
buttoned the front, checked her hair in the mirror - she had put it
into a bun so it wouldn't get wet - and smoothed the dress over her
hips. Then she turned back to Bobby, who had watched
her interestedly.
"Now you," she said huskily.
He stood up in anticipation.
She got to her knees as he bent backwards slightly, presenting his
dripping rod to her. This was something else Meg had thought
about. His taste had fascinated her the last time, and she had
thought of a way to make sure that he didn't make a mess when he
squirted this time.
She reached out and grasped his firm rod lightly in her
hand. Then she leaned forward and slid her lips over the
head of his prick.
Bobby had been excited ever since he saw her naked body revealed.
Like her, the feel of skin on skin had brought him close to
release. If she'd have left her hand on him a moment longer he
would have spurted in the water. Now, as he felt his cock
head engulfed in her hot mouth, he exploded, ecstacy once again
flooding his mind until he couldn't think. Her other hand
came up to cup his balls, and while her fingers missed the first jerk,
they felt the next three as he leaned even further backward and
groaned. Her mouth filled with thick fluid and Meg gulped
instinctively to keep it from filling her mouth too much.
After she felt the third jet she sucked, sliding her lips further up
his spurting pole and then back again. She pulled off of him and
swirled his cum around in her mouth, running her tongue along her teeth
... tasting him again.
He was, she decided, delicious. His prick began to flag, to
settle and grow smaller. A bubble of that delicious fluid seeped
out of the little hole and she sucked at the tip, letting her fingers
milk him for the last drops.
Her knees ached, and that woke her to the task at hand. She got
him out of the tub and, out of habit, dried him off. She
couldn't resist bending over and sucking at his limp penis one last
time, to make sure, she told herself, that nothing dripped out of it
that would alert the others. She planned again to take him
out into the dining room naked ... to re-enforce in the minds of the
women that he was just a boy ... whose penis probably didn't get stiff
at all.
Last, before they left, she embraced him and kissed him deeply.
"Thank you Bobby," she whispered in his ear. "You made me very happy."
Bobby felt the urge to kiss her neck, and he did so, tasting her skin. She shuddered and pushed him away.
"You must never do that when the others can see," she said.
"They'd make us stop if they knew. I don't want to stop,
Bobby. You won't ... will you?"
Bobby, again, had no trouble shaking his head.
In one frame of reference, though he didn't know it, Bobby had just
arrived at level three of Mr. Maslow's pyramid. Someone had
honest feelings of love for him.
