The swelling in Rachel's face went down considerably, but the color was
slow to fade. She decided that school had to go on, despite
the condition of her face. It had been four days since the
attack, and she was going crazy trying to find some way to be useful to
the people who had helped her.
When Meg and Sally got the children to school, and they saw Rachel's
face, they were aghast. They'd heard all about the
incident, of course, but had not seen the woman. Her face
was still a sickly yellow and purple color on the left side, while the
right side of her face looked almost normal. Her lips were still
split and swollen where her intended rapist had struck her, and the
wound from the knife on her throat was clearly visible.
"Would you like us to stay for a while?" asked Meg impulsively. "To help?"
Rachel looked at her, assessing her as a woman, and as a person from
town, and, for the first time, as a potential friend. Rachel
didn't have many friends ... hadn't tried to make any really.
Now, though, with the outpouring of care from women whose names she
hadn't even known before the incident, her attitude about other women
had changed. Her brush with death had made both subtle and
not-so-subtle changes in her outlook on life. She had done
some serious thinking once she could martial thoughts at all. The
four women who had taken her from her house had mothered her like hens,
even trying to spoon feed her. Their obvious concern pulled
her mind back to sanity and then overrode what would have been her
normal irritation at having to rely on others. She had felt
safe with them as they drew her life story from her, sometimes against
her will, but in a way that made her glad that now, at least, somebody
in this town knew something about her and accepted her as ... as
what? She had thought about that too, and the realization
that those four women would be content calling her their friend had cut
through her tough exterior like the knife that she had known would take
her life.
Their chatter had soothed her in ways that nothing else would
have. Eventually she had been able to appreciate their outlook on
life, here in this harsh place. One woman, when she had been
giving Rachel a sponge bath had sighed and said "I'd just kill to have
a body like yours. Then maybe Herb would look at me like he
looks at you."
That had led to a very frank discussion of men, and their faults, and
Rachel found out just how valuable a good reputation was. The
women didn't blame her at all for being beautiful, or for the fact that
every man in town - at least according to them - had been seen raking
their eyes over her body while she walked, or shopped. They
blamed the men for having wandering eyes and talked about other
beautiful women who did NOT have the sterling reputation that Rachel
had.
And now, here was another woman who seemed to care about her for some
reason. And she knew this woman to be single. She was good
looking too, in a frontier sort of way. Rachel chided herself for
that characterization. That was what the old Rachel would have
thought. Now she looked at the young woman and admitted
that, anywhere in the world men would notice ... she didn't even know
her name!
"I'm sorry" said Rachel thickly. "I know I should remember your name."
"Meg" said the woman.
"And I'm Sally" said the other one.
"Could you read to some while I work on math with the others?" she
asked, worried that she might embarrass them. It was still
possible these days that people were illiterate.
"I love to read," said Meg, smiling. '
"And I can do whatever," added Sally.
There was a mild rebellion involving some of the older Milleson
children when they found out Meg was going to read, while they were
expected to work on their numbers.
"I read to them at home," said Meg, shrugging her shoulders.
Then all the children wanted to know what had happened to their
teacher. They stared at her face with the unbridled
curiosity of children.
Rachel raised her hands for quiet.
"A bad man wanted to hurt me. He DID hurt my face," she said. "But Bobby saved me and made the man stop hurting me."
All the children's eyes went to Bobby, who had been standing silently in the background, watching the women talk.
"Really!?" asked Patrick, his voice awed. "He killed the
Umpelty Oog when it was in the closet!" he said excitedly. "And
then he ATE it!" Patrick stuck out his chest like he was
the one who had done everything.
Rachel looked at Meg and mouthed "Umpelty Oog?"
Meg mouthed back "Imaginary monster."
Rachel smiled and then winced as her lip cracked open again.
"Well, Bobby is my hero," she said firmly. "I'm not surprised he
does nice things for other people too. Now, we have
learning to do!"
She hustled around, separating the groups and waving at the book shelf,
which had only a dozen worn volumes on it. Meg looked at them and
picked one to read from.
By the time any of them noticed it, the morning had passed and it was time to adjourn school.
"Oh my" said Sally. "Mavis will be having fits over us being gone so long."
Meg nodded and then looked at Rachel. "Will you be keeping Bobby late today?"
Rachel shook her head. "I'm tired, and the doctor has ordered me
in no uncertain terms to rest in the afternoons. It will be a
week or so before I can spend extra time with him."
When the children were all bundled up and ready to leave, Rachel touched Meg's arm.
"Thank you. I mean that. It was nice of you to
stay. I know you can't do that often, but I'm really glad I got
to meet you. You too Sally. I'm sorry we never got to spend
any time together before this."
Meg smiled. "Well, it was just the neighborly thing to do, that's all. But you're welcome."
Mavis wasn't actually having fits at the absence of her
employees. She rarely got any time to herself. There were
always children or other women around, for the most part. She
didn't worry about her employees. She did wonder where they'd
gotten to, but spent the time writing a letter to her sister that she'd
put off for a month. It needed to be a long letter to tell all
the news, and she was, in the end, grateful that she'd been able to get
it done.
Sally tried to take the brunt of the blame when the children all piled into the parlor and began taking their coats off.
"We stayed to help Rachel," she said. Taking Meg's line, she added "It seemed like the neighborly thing to do."
"Well, considering what happened, I suppose it was," admitted
Mavis. "Don't make it a habit, though. There's things
around here that need doing."
"She's nice," said Meg. "Nicer than I thought."
"Is she now?" said Mavis. "Actually it was kind of nice around
here ... quiet for once. I just wish I'd have known. I'd
have had a nice long soak in that tub you all love so much."
Neither woman took the bait, though, and Mavis, once again, let it drop.
About an hour later though, Meg stopped beside Mavis, on her way to do
laundry. "You know, if we helped out at school say, one day a
week? You could have that nice long soak."
Mavis snorted. But then she said "I guess I could at that."
That night, as they listened to the radio, Bobby pulled out the table
leg and began carving on the end of it. It was shorter than it
had been in the beginning, but still looked a little awkward, and Mavis
decided to go visit the cabinetmaker's shop down on Broadway.
The next day, while the children were in school, she did just that,
taking Bobby's table leg with her, with its half finished carving on
the end. Sher also took two of his finished carvings, which were
set high on a shelf to keep them away from the children.
"Good work," said the man, examining the face of a German Shepherd, its
ears stiff and raised, as if it heard something. "No need to ruin
good furniture. I got lots of scraps laying around. I'd be
glad to be rid of them. You say it's that boy who done
this? The one what saved that girl from the rapist?"
Mavis went home with a gunny sack filled with chunks of cherry, walnut,
pecan and mahogany. When she dumped out the sack for Bobby
that afternoon she found more sandpaper too and a roll of oilpaper that
had various chisels inside it. A small wooden mallet was rolled
up with them. There was also a disk shaped carving, that looked a
little like a sunburst with a face in the center. The
cabinetmaker had said it was designed to go on a tall chest of drawers,
with fancy woodwork framing a mirror on top. The disk, he said,
would be attached above the mirror. He had suggested that
Bobby attempt to reproduce it. The tools, he said,
could be returned at some unspecified time in the future.
Bobby, when he came in from school, picked up the tools and examined
them. Then he looked at the sunburst carving which, he noticed,
had a crack running through it that had ruined it. He found a
board end that was about the right size, put it on his lap, and started
removing slivers of wood with the tools. As Mavis watched
him, she realized that with the board on his lap, it was more difficult
than if were on a more solid base. She motioned to Prudence
and they went up to the attic and brought down an old stained and
scratched Queen Anne end table that a chair could be drawn up to and
one's legs put under. Once a couple of thin strips of wood had
been fastened to two sides of the top, it provided a place where
Bobby's scrap of wood could be laid and stabilized as he pushed or
tapped a chisel. The work went faster and was cleaner after
that.
It only took Bobby four hours to make the reproduction. It was
rougher than the original, the lines not as straight, and the face not
as crisp, but the women thought it was gorgeous.
=
On Wednesday, Bobby somehow got coal dust all over his face and hands
when he did his chores. He'd never had that problem
before. His shirt was black as well. He didn't seem
to notice, and sat at his table to try smoothing the sunburst face he
had carved. Mavis walked by and saw the condition he was in.
"What in the world happened to you?" she asked. "I hope you
don't think you're coming to my table for supper looking like
that. We're having a guest tonight. Meg invited your
teacher to come for supper."
Bobby looked at his hands innocently. There was paper and
pencil beside him. Paper and pencils lay all over the house
now. He wrote the word "Bath?" on it.
Mavis looked at him shrewdly. "One of these days I'm going
to have to find out just what goes on in there," she said.
Bobby looked at her as innocently as he'd looked at his hands.
She thought briefly about just taking him into the bathroom
herself. But she had to get ready for supper.
"Prudence!" she called. Prudence looked up from the
beef hindquarter she was butchering on the cutting table in the
kitchen.
"I'll finish that up. Bobby's gotten himself filthy and
says he needs a bath. Since both Meg and Sally are in town,
why don't you take care of it this time."
Mavis almost laughed as Prudence lit up with a smile and immediately
abandoned the meat that would be their supper for days to come.
Bobby had been thinking about Meg. He had dirtied himself
with coal dust on purpose, knowing that Mavis would demand he clean
up. His ploy to get a bath in the middle of the week had worked,
but not quite as he had planned. On the other hand,
Prudence's lush body was interesting too. The only two women
Bobby had ever seen naked were Meg and Sally, and they were as
different as night and day. He wondered if he might get to widen
his available store of information with Prudence.
Prudence, as it turned out, had been thinking about her unfaithful
soon-to-be ex-husband, over in Europe. She was tortured by
visions of him and his no-doubt young tart, clasped together, making
the beast with two backs ... making a baby in her ... instead of in
Prudence, where it belonged. She had seen Bobby naked before, and
it only made things worse. Or better. It depended on
how she looked at it. Right now, she wanted to see him
naked again.
Taking him in the bathroom she started the bath water while Bobby added
coal to the heater. She turned to see him standing, his hands at
his sides.
"Well, go on. You can't take a bath in your clothes. I've
seen you unclothed before." She watched as he took his
shirt off. He now had pants that fit him better, and removing his
suspenders no longer made them drop as if they had stones in
them. When he pushed them down and stepped out of his
drawers, his penis was half hard and stuck out. It was much
larger than when she'd seen it limp and satisfied before.
"Oh my," she said, her breathing increasing. "Has it ever done that when Meg or Sally was in here?" she asked.
Bobby nodded and stepped into the tub. He stepped back out quickly. The water was too hot.
"Oh dear me," she said, turning to mix some cold water in. "I'm
sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." What she
had been thinking was that if it looked like that half hard, she was
going to do her best to see what it looked like fully erect.
Prudence had her own suspicions about what went on at bath time.
She too had seen Sally's glow when she finished bathing Bobby.
Bobby stepped back in, took the soap from the window sill and handed it to Prudence before sitting down.
"So they wash you?" she asked.
He nodded and splashed water all over himself, trying surreptitiously
to get some on Prudence too. She was too far away though.
She came closer and bent over to dip the soap in the water, and then
placed it on his chest and moved it around. She worked on his
arms, then, feeling his muscles moving under the skin.
Whenever she looked at his face, he was staring back at her with his
big, brown eyes. The water turned dark with washed off coal dust
and she told him to close his eyes so she could do his
face. Then she put the soap in his hand and cupped water in
both of hers to pour over his face, rubbing it clean. Now
was the part she had been waiting for.
"Stand up now Bobby," she said.
When he did she wasted no time soaping her hands and going straight for
his penis. It lengthened in her hands and became rigid.
"On dear me," she said softly, feeling her gut clench. "Do the others wash you like this?"
Bobby smiled and nodded.
"And do you like this?" she asked.
He smiled wider and nodded with more enthusiasm.
She moaned, and her pace increased.
"Does anything ever ... come out ... of it?" she asked, blushing.
Bobby's smile got even wider as he nodded.
"Ohhhhhhhh" she moaned.
Prudence was on fire. Her husband had been gone for two
years, before which she was, unknown to her, a highly sexed
woman. She had reveled in the things they did in the bedroom,
feeling like she had been set free from the strictures of society's
denial that she should have sexual feelings. And the sudden
withdrawl of those pleasures had hit her hard. Then, after
struggling through all that time of going without pleasure she loved,
he told her he wasn't going without, but that she'd have to go without
forever. In all the time he'd been gone, even after getting the
letter in which he said he'd found another woman and wasn't coming back
to her, she'd never considered cheating on him.
Until now.
But Prudence was older than Meg and Sally, if only by a few
years. Her level of control, while strained, was based on the
fact that Mavis was out on the other side of that door. Her mind
whirled as, with a strong, young penis in her soapy hands, Prudence
thought wildly about what she wanted to do with it.
Perhaps, depending on how you, the reader, will evaluate things in the
end, it was fortunate that while she thought, her hand assumed what,
for her, was a natural stroking motion. Her mental state was
intruded upon when Bobby's penis suddenly swelled in her hand.
Prudence, knowing what to expect, aimed it down, into the water.
They both let out a long sigh as thick streams of milky white spunk
splashed into the water and Bobby bent his knees a little.
Prudence watched in fascination as three and then four healthy spurts
followed the first two. Her own knees sagged a little and
the heat between her legs flared.
She let go of him and looked at her hand, as if it were someone else's
and she couldn't believe it was somehow attached to her arm. she
was just as surprised when that hand went back to the wilting phallus
of her charge and milked the shrinking organ to ensure that all his
sperm was out of it.
Then she, in a very businesslike voice, said "All right. Now that
that's taken care of, out of the tub and let's get you dried off."
Bobby, partly disappointed that things hadn't been as intense as they
were with Meg and Sally, was non-the-less happy that she had made him
feel good, and he obeyed, standing quietly as she ran the towel all
over him. Then, as the other two had, Prudence led him out of the
bathroom naked. Since his clean clothes weren't lying in a
pile of washing on the floor, she simply told him to go up to his room
and get dressed.
Mavis had watched as the door to the bathroom opened and the two came
out. Her eyes went immediately to Bobby's penis, which was
flaccid and completely normal looking, though dark again. Then
she examined Prudence, who looked normal as well.
"Everything go all right?" she asked innocently.
"Yes," said Prudence, distracted by what was going on under her calm
outward appearance. "He does splash a lot, though," she said,
just for something else to say. She looked around, like she
wasn't quite sure where she was. "How long until supper?"
she asked.
Mavis, who detected Prudence's scatterbrained undercurrent, and was
intrigued by that, said "Oh, I don't know. Several hours I
suppose. Why?"
Prudence, her speech just a little too fast to be normal, said "Oh, I
was just thinking that I forgot all about the fact that the coal truck
is coming to my house today. I guess all that coal dust I just
washed off of him reminded me. I've let the bin get in a terrible
state and need to clean it up."
All that was true. There was, in fact, a layer of coal dust in
the basement of Prudence's little three room house. She noticed
it whenever she tracked the dust upstairs as she refilled her own coal
bucket, but normally just wiped her feet on a rag rug at the top of the
stairs. Now, though, her lust-fogged mind thought about
things a little differently.
She turned to Mavis. "Do you think it would be all right if Bobby came over and helped me get that cleaned up?
Mavis' sharp eyes examined her employee. The woman was
tense. Bathing Bobby did ... something ... to all the
women. "You just gave him a bath!"
Prudence's mind came back to the here and now. "Well ... yes ...
of course. It's just that I forgot. I mean
that's what reminded me." She looked disappointed
somehow. "I suppose it will wait."
Mavis couldn't really tell what was going on in the auburn-haired
woman's mind. But coal dust was something that was
dangerous if left untended, and her maternal instincts took over.
"No, you're right. That needs to be taken care of.
We've been busy lately, what with extra mouths and all. And
baths don't kill the boy. Go ahead and take him. Just
make sure his hair is dry before you take him out in the cold. I
don't want him getting sick.
The change in Pru's demeanor was startling. She smiled as if she
had just gotten a new dress. Without another word she turned and
went toward the stairs.
Prudence and Bobby came down shortly after that, Bobby dressed in clean
clothes, and then Prudence got him dressed in his coat and
hat. As they were leaving Sally came into the room.
"Where are they going?" she asked.
Pru has a chore at her house that Bobby's going to help her with," said Mavis.
"Oh, that's nice," said Sally.
Sally had no idea how "nice" that was ... for both Prudence and
Bobby. The trek through the snow was relatively easy, except that
warmer temperatures, followed by more cold, had frozen the crust of the
snow, and a pedestrian was momentarily supported by the stiff crust,
only to fall through to the powdery snow underneath. When
they got to the house Prudence, to her credit, did take Bobby down to
the cellar and did, in fact, sweep up the coal dust that had settled
from the last two deliveries of coal, that billowed the fine black
particles into the air as it slid down the chute and into the
bin. She had him do that job while an argument raged within her.
But that cleanup only took ten minutes. They filled a bucket and
Bobby lugged it up the stairs to the main room, where the stove
was. Prudence stood and looked at him.
"Bobby?" she said, looking at his buttocks through the tight cotton
pants he was wearing, as he bent over to set the bucket
down. He swiveled his head and looked up at her.
"Did you like what happened in the bathroom?" she asked nervously.
He smiled and nodded his head.
"And the others ... they do that for you too?"
Bobby nodded again.
Prudence felt the heat, which had only dimmed a little since she saw
his streams of semen splashing into the bath water, well up in her
loins again.
"Bobby I need you to do something else for me," she said, feeling her control slipping. "Would you do that for me Bobby?"
A boy who talked would have simply said "Sure, what is it?"
But, of course, Bobby didn't talk. He nodded the "Sure" but
didn't ask the "What is it?"
Prudence took his hand and pulled him to her bedroom.
"Take off your clothes Bobby," she said, amazed that her voice didn't crack. She began to unbutton her own clothing.
Prudence, like many women of that era, wore panties, but nothing on her
breasts under her dress. As a young woman she had worn corsets,
but those were going out of vogue. The new brassieres that
were available were too expensive, so she just went
without. Her breasts were heavy and sagged to some degree,
but they were firm and full too, with large, flat, brown nipples.
She had never thought much about her nipples. They were there,
for babies when they came. Her husband had mauled her breasts
with his hands, which felt wonderful, but he had never used his mouth
on her other than to kiss her with his tobacco and beer tinted
breath. And he resisted touching her between her legs because he
thought that was dirty. Still, the feel of his penis
rutting in her lustily had been something she couldn't get enough
of. She didn't always reach orgasm with him, but loved the
feel of him in her anyway.
She felt the cold as she took her dress off, and turned to fold back
the covers on the bed. For what she wanted to do they'd
want those covers over them for comfort.
Bobby, being an intelligent boy, recognized that something nice was
going to happen. It wasn't a bath, but then, if he got to
feel her skin against his, he didn't really care. He liked to
look at the women when they were naked, and noticed all the differences
between them. But he noticed the similarities too, and they all
felt and tasted good. He saw Prudence's flat nipples and
wondered it they'd get long and stiff like Sally's had when he sucked
at them. Getting naked with a woman meant you got to do
that, and he wanted to try that with Prudence.
So, when Prudence turned back around, she wasn't quite prepared for
what Bobby did. In all truth, she didn't have a
"plan". With her husband, things had always gone as he
wanted them to go, and she just responded. Bobby suddenly
leaned over to suck in her left nipple. It had begun to tighten
in the cool air, but was still loose enough that he was able to suck in
enough to swirl his tongue around.
Prudence experienced something new. It was not only new, it
was devastating. She actually bent double, jerking the nipple out
of his mouth and hitting his head with her own. Then she sat down
on the edge of the bed, holding her head as Bobby knelt beside her,
touching her hair with concern.
"I'm fine," she said. "I was just surprised." She
reached up and touched the nipple he'd sucked. It still
tingled. Then, making a decision that would change her
life, she lay back the bed, shoving the covers over so she could make
room for Bobby too.
"Do that some more," she whispered.
Two or three minutes later, Prudence was beside herself.
When he suckled at her breasts, the exquisite pain/pleasure sensations
she felt shot straight between her legs. Her hand slid
inside her panties and she rubbed, spreading her legs. She
was gasping for air when he stopped. He was sitting on the side
of the bed, and had been pleasuring her for what seemed like hours, but
was only a few minutes. She opened her eyes and they went
to his groin, where his erection stuck up out of the brown hair
there. His hand stroked her belly as he looked
at her nearly nude body. What was in his eyes made Prudence want
to scream with joy and she lifted her hips, shoving her panties down
and off of one leg. They hung up at her other ankle, but
she didn't care as she spread her legs.
"Touch me there Bobby," she gasped, gripping his hand and pushing it between her legs.
He rubbed her with the flat of his hand, finding her slippery lips and
liking the feel of the smooth skin below all that brown hair. Her
hips jerked up off the bed and then fell back with a soft thump as her
buttocks landed and she groaned. He experimented a little,
rubbing this way, and that, and watching how she reacted.
That was how he found the little bump between those slippery
lips. When he touched that her hips bounded up off the bed again
and she put her hand in her mouth to stifle a cry.
"Bobby ... ohhh Bobby," she whispered, between filling her mouth with
her hand. "Ohhh love me Bobby ... pleeease love me."
The only way Bobby knew how to show love was to kiss her, and he
crawled up to do that, pressing his lips to her and sliding his tongue
into her mouth.
But Prudence knew how she wanted him to love her and she pulled on his
stiff penis, until he crawled between her legs as she lay spread under
him. His kisses were so sweet, and his breath so much nicer
than what she remembered about her husband, that she didn't hesitate in
the slightest, pulling his stiff prick to the opening of her
sex. When it got there she pulled until she could feel the
head part her pussy lips. Then, with both hands, she
reached for his buttocks and in a surreal moment, as her fingers felt
the scars on his cheeks, she pulled and thrust toward him with her hips.
He slid into her completely in one long lunge.
Now it was Bobby who felt something new. Meg, and then
Sally, had used their mouths on him, and that felt hot, and wet and
wonderful.
But this ... this was beyond wonderful. "Hot" didn't quite
describe what he felt. "Soft" wasn't a good enough word.
She hadn't had a prick in her for two years and, though Bobby didn't
know it, she was almost as tight as a virgin. The
sensations that surrounded his penis ... the firm pressure on every
square inch of that sensitive organ ... the way her cervical lips
kissed and then surrounded the tip of his prick when his hairs meshed
with hers ... and the groan of sexual satisfaction as she was
penetrated fully and completely ... all those things were new to Bobby.
His mind, surprised at the rush of overwhelming sensory inputs, shut
down momentarily. His body took over. It knew where
his penis was, and why it was there. It did what it knew it was
supposed to do. It transferred the contents of Bobby's scrotum to
the small dark cave inside of Prudence's body, filling it to
overflowing with happy, active sperm cells.
Prudence's mind, in a dusty corner that hadn't been used in two years,
felt the rush of wet heat in her womb, and cried out that it was to be
over so soon. Her reaction was like that of a person who has
fallen deep in water, has held her breath, struggling to reach the
surface, lungs straining, face finally breaking the surface ... only to
find unbreatheable air there. Yet, at the same time,
that rush of heat deep inside her was so welcome that another part of
her mind breathed deeply of it, lungs filling to the very bottom,
almost bursting with clean, fresh, life-giving oxygen.
Bobby, completely unprepared for his ejaculation, felt the natural urge
to move his penis in Prudence ... to keep his ejaculation going.
That urge caused him to press deeper, pull out a little, and slam deep
again. That felt fabulous, so he did it again ... and again
... and again.
Prudence's mind stuttered. When Harold did what Bobby had
just done, which he did quite often almost as quickly as Bobby had, he
rolled off of her and sighed contentedly. But Bobby didn't
do that. Bobby, when he flushed her full of that heat, began
doing THEN what Harold only did occasionally. She realized
that the penis that had made her feel so complete only seconds before,
had NOT wilted, like it had in the bathroom, but was still firm.
And Bobby was poking and prodding her in the MOST delightful way with
that still-firm thing. That air-starved part of her mind opened
its mouth again and breathed deeply.
Bobby couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to slide in and out of
Prudence. His mind, cleared by that mind-blowing orgasm,
began to notice the woman under him. He felt her large, soft
breasts, crushed under his chest. He felt her loins, bucking up
at him, and her legs, which had entwined with his. He heard her
agonized moans of joy as his stiff cock plumbed her depths.
He heard the joy in her voice, and it spurred him to keep doing what he
was doing to make those sounds happen. He didn't know that his
natural desire to go deep satisfied her desire to feel her clit being
mashed and abused. He didn't know that his desire to please her
touched something deep inside her that no other man had taken the time
to touch.
All he knew was that he liked doing this new thing, and if he could do
it for a long time, then he would make it last as long as he could.
When she had an orgasm, he thought he'd hurt her, and stopped moving.
"Ohhh Bobby don't stop baby," she moaned, her hands pulling at his
buttocks where they had been ever since he'd first slid into her.
Reassured, he moved again. Bobby was, by virtue of the need
to survive, an expert at watching people. He was quite good, on
an unconscious level, at recognizing what made people happy. And,
if people were happy, they were less likely to hurt you, and more
likely to do things you wanted them to do.
Thus it was that Bobby, during his first complete sexual encounter, got
the chance to see what made a woman happy during sex. His
own genetic need had been assuaged, and now he studied the woman under
him, learning what made her squirm and cry out with joy. He
watched her through two more of those gut-wrenching episodes that he
now realized were the woman's equivalent of what he had felt as he
spurted inside her. He loved it when she did that. It
made him feel good to be able to help her feel that way.
Then, suddenly she flopped back, limp, her eyes closed, like she was
dead. But her chest still heaved as she dragged in panting
breaths. He somehow knew that it was time to stop. He had
been on the edge of spurting again for several minutes, but had pushed
it back, wanting to be able to go on. Now he let the urge to
spurt loose. He whined and pushed hard, letting his
balls pump their seed into her again before relaxing on top of her,
gasping himself.
Prudence couldn't believe what had happened. She was quite
sure now that Harold was somehow crippled sexually and that she just
hadn't known it. She had never had more than one orgasm at
a time, and it had to be this man on top of her who was responsible for
that. And he had even given her that deep heat TWICE!
"Ohhh Bobby" she sighed, playing with the hair on his head as he panted on top of her. "Thank you so much."
He lifted his head, looking tired, but smiled and reached to kiss her briefly.
She didn't want to move, but had a panicky feeling that this had to
have taken hours, and that supper had probably already been served.
"We have to go!" she said, pushing at him, and wishing they could just stay in bed forever.
Bobby, used to going where people told him to go, and doing what people
told him to do, got up. He wished they could stay there too, warm
under the covers. But he jumped up and dressed quickly to
minimize the time his body was exposed to the cold.
Prudence did much the same thing. Her mind whirled still
over what had just happened. She darted quick glances at
Bobby, suddenly glad he couldn't talk ... couldn't betray what they had
just done ... what she was quite sure they would do again, if she had
anything to say about it.
"Bobby?" she said. When he looked at her she had to ask the
next question. "Have you done that before?" She
was afraid of what his answer would be.
When he shook his head her jaw dropped. "Really? Not even with ... the others?"
He shook his head again.
"Oh," she said, feeling unaccountably happy that he hadn't done this
with anyone else. Then she suddenly felt guilty for taking him so much
farther than the others. "I don't suppose we should tell anyone we did
this," she said. "I don't think they'd
understand. Usually only married people do that."
Bobby pointed at her and then lifted her hand to finger her wedding
band. Prudence realized for the first time that she had
just cheated on her husband. A stab of guilt was
immediately replaced by a feeling that she had vindicated her status as
a discarded wife.
"Well, yes, I'm married, but my husband doesn't want me any more," she
said. The pain she would have felt at saying that was strangely
absent. Her brain was still flooded with dopamine, that
blunted the guilt. "But most women don't do this with a man who
isn't their husband. People wouldn't understand why this
happened."
He nodded, but looked confused too.
"What I mean, Bobby, is that people wouldn't approve. They
wouldn't let me be around you any more if they found out we did
this. But I want you to know I loved it. I'm glad it
happened. But it probably shouldn't have happened ... Oh I don't
know WHAT to say," she ended up, beginning to feel guilty again.
Bobby, seeing the ambivalence in her face, took her hand. He
smiled. He brought one finger to his lips and she
recognized that as his pledge not to say anything. She
hugged him and he tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.
"Not now. If you kiss me we'll end up back in bed, and we have to
get back. We've probably missed supper and Mavis will be up in
arms."
Then, in direct violation of her own statement, she kissed him firmly.
"Thank you so much Bobby," she said, when she was done. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."
They hurried through the snow and into the back door. The food
smells as they entered Milleson House smote them like steam hits a
bather in a spa. But supper wasn't over. It
hadn't been served yet. As it turned out, they had been gone only
an hour and a half.
Mavis looked up from stirring a pot. The cold air had robbed
Prudence of the well-fucked look she had had when they left her
house. Now she just looked happy.
"Get everything taken care of?" she asked.
"Yes" said Prudence. "Everything's fine now."
"Didn't get too dirty," commented Mavis, eyeing the relatively clean appearance of both.
"We tried to be careful," said Prudence.
"Good," said Mavis. "Remember we have a visitor tonight," she said, turning back to the stove.
"Yes," said Prudence, squeezing Bobby's hand. "I'll pitch
in and help get things ready. Thanks again
Bobby. I couldn't have done that without you."
Bobby just grinned.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The children were excited when they found out Rachel was going to be
there for dinner that night. The air of excitement transferred to
the women. Meg and Sally, of course, were glad their new friend
would be coming. For the others, there was the anticipation of
having someone new in the house, and they were interested to make their
own judgment of this woman who had been the topic of so much talk in
town.
Now, two weeks after school had started again, Rachel's face had healed
to the point where she merely looked jaundiced. The dark black
and purple bruises had faded to a sickly yellow, and her lips had
healed to the point where she could speak plainly and they caused her
no pain. She wasn't quite as self conscious about her appearance,
and was happy that she was going to break up the tedium of her normal
existence by eating supper at Milleson House.
Plus, she'd get to see Bobby again. She hadn't started
tutoring him in the afternoons again, yet. She was still very
tired after half a day of dealing with children. While she got to
see him in school every day, she missed getting to concentrate on just
looking at him.
As she hurried through the crusty snow she reflected on that
thought. At school she acted completely normal toward him, and
had been since school had started back up. He did the same things
in the classroom he had always done, helping the children, or
reading. Her attitude toward her hero, as she had called him, was
no different on the outside than it had ever been.
But on the inside Rachel's attitude toward Bobby had undergone a vast
change. Thankfully, a lot of what had happened to her
during the attempted rape was not available to her conscious
memory. She remembered the incident, but there were large
gaps in that memory. Much of it had been
suppressed. She remembered knowing that she was going
to be raped. That had made her angry, because she had
always treated her virginity as a precious gift that she would one day
offer to a man of her own choosing. She hadn't met a man
who deserved it, in her opinion.
It wasn't fair to say that she hadn't had sexual urges. She had
felt them many times as she danced with some young man, or flirted at a
party. She had experimented between her legs, and knew what
that thrill felt like. And, at school, she was busy enough
that she didn't let her mind dwell on those infrequent sexual urges
even more infrequent since she had moved to Nebraska.
But at night, when she lay in the bed where her cherished virginity had
almost been ripped from her by that savage man, and she thought about
how Bobby had looked that day in school, or remembered his eyes looking
into hers, she felt things that she wasn't prepared to
feel. Her mind remembered how she had been naked in front
of him, and that he hadn't tried to hurt her, like the other man ...
how he had held her ... how the horror had been held at bay, as if it
had some special power to keep her safe.
He HAD kept her safe. He had saved her. She had
never been in love before. She didn't know what 'being in
love' felt like. But she had never felt for a male like she
felt for Bobby ... in the night. She tried not to think about it,
because it was frightening. No, that wasn't the right word.
It was exciting.
It made her want to be naked in front of him again.
She didn't understand that urge ... thought it was insane for her to
feel sexual toward someone who was so closely involved in the horror of
that incident. She had examined that for hours, lying
there, trying not to slide her hand between her legs to press against
that place that felt so good to press.
Over the long nights, though, she had come to realize that what her
attacker had been doing wasn't really about sex. It was
about dominating her ... taking from her ... terrorizing
her. And Bobby wasn't like that. He
didn't take. He gave. As miserable as his life had
been, he somehow came down on the giving side of things and offered
himself whenever he saw a need.
And, she had decided, she had a need. She wanted Bobby to
meet that need. She had no idea, however, how to go about
that.
That was why she was ambivalent about going to supper too.
Excited ... and ambivalent at the same time. She shook her
head and laughed out loud. How could a young man affect her
like this?
Then the door was in front of her, and her hand was knocking.
June Bug opened it, smiling widely, pulling at her sleeve, welcoming
her into the warmth of the house. A feeling of ecstasy welled up
in her. She was loved and wanted here. At least
by this precious girl.
That feeling was confirmed as she took off her coat, exposing the best
dress she owned, and had worn because being invited to supper seemed
like such an honor. The children gathered around her, their
voices mingling into a cacophony of sound that, rather than grating on
her ears, caressed them. She wiped at her eyes, ashamed that a
mere greeting could make her feel so powerfully wanted.
Mrs. Milleson pushed through the throng.
"Here now! Children! Give the poor woman a chance to
breathe," she said, clearing a place around Rachel. Rachel
felt the woman's eyes on her like she was under a magnifying glass,
being scrutinized. But the woman had a smile on her face.
"Welcome" she said. "Come in. Stand by the
stove and warm yourself." She pointed the way.
"You must be a wonderful teacher for these terrible children to be so
excited."
"They're NOT terrible" said Rachel before she could stop herself.
She blushed. "I mean they're really wonderful Mrs.
Milleson. You're doing a wonderful job raising them."
"Lands sakes, girl, call me Mavis," said Mavis. "No need to be
formal around here." She continued looking at the young
woman. "I suppose they are good children at that."
The smells were wonderful, and the atmosphere was wonderful, and by the
time Rachel was seated at the table she wished it would go on
forever. She recognized meager fare when she saw it, but the
happiness on the faces of the children was so real that the plain meal
seemed right somehow. She watched as the women did what
mothers everywhere do with children at meal time and felt a sudden urge
to have a roomful of children of her own. Her eyes darted
to where Bobby sat, down the table. He was helping Emily spoon
corn onto her plate. She blushed at the thought that went
through her mind, and took a bite of roast quickly. She
wasn't used to thinking such things, particularly not in public.
Mavis had seated her at the head of the table, and had placed children
on both sides of her, in an unspoken invitation to join in the matronly
duties around the table. She did so, feeling that she was
lucky to be able to do something so simple as helping a child eat.
When all had been served, and the chatter had muted due to full mouths, Mavis established some adult conversation.
"Well, your color seems to be much improved," she said.
Rachel was usually uncomfortable when someone talked about her face. Somehow, in this setting, it didn't bother her.
"Yes, the doctor says I was very lucky, and that when everything heals
completely there will be almost no sign of what happened," she
said. She still had to chew gently though. Her jaw
hadn't been broken, but whatever held one's jaws together had been
strained.
"That's good," said Mavis. "Beauty such as yours should not be spoiled."
Rachel blushed again, unaccountably pleased that this woman thought she
was beautiful. She had always taken her beauty for
granted. Not any more.
"Thank you," she mumbled. Her eyes went again to Bobby as she
wondered if he thought she was beautiful too. Always before
she'd have assumed all men found her beautiful. Not any
more. "He said there will be some small scars."
Mavis looked closely at the woman's face. Again she felt
like she was under a magnifying glass. She
nodded. "Yes, I can see them now. I don't think
they'll detract too much. Lines on a face give it
character."
Mavis looked surprised that she'd said that and then laughed to cover
her own blush. "Of course I'd say that. Old women want to
believe lines make for character."
Rachel was surprised. Mavis Milleson might be in her mid
thirties, but she was certainly no old woman. "How would
you know?" she asked, meaning it to be a compliment. "Have old
women told you so?"
There were titters from several of the other women, Meg among them, but smiles went with them.
Mavis sat back in her chair. She felt old sometimes. That
feeling had come from a lot of things. She had married well
when she was nineteen, to a merchant who provided her with a big house
and announced that he wanted her to fill it with his offspring.
What he did to advance that plan had thrilled her to her very
core. But before he could put a baby in her womb he had developed
a cough that became worse and worse and then, tearing her new and
wonderful life apart, had taken him from her. She was left
with a big, empty house, and the thought of trying to fill it with
another man had been unthinkable. Turning that empty place into a
boarding house had been a thing of necessity, and running it had taken
all her time and energy to the point that she had settled into that
role - the role of a widow woman who ran a boarding house - and didn't
think about that wonderful thing her dead husband had done with her in
their bedroom. Slowly, her boarders became her 'children', and
she cared for them instead of for her own offspring. Then
the depression came, and the war, and suddenly real children filled her
house. That was both good and bad. Good because her old
yearning to have a houseful of children was realized. Bad because
she fell in love with them all, and some of them got taken away from
her.
They weren't taken like her husband had been taken, but the pain felt
almost the same. And she was still too busy to think about that
other thing that was still missing from her life. Because of
that, and the unending work she so willingly submerged herself in, she
didn't feel young any more.
Rachel's blatant compliment made Mavis feel better than if a man had whistled at her.
"You're welcome at supper any time you want to come back." Mavis grinned.
Rachel was invited to stay after supper, to listen to the radio.
She watched as Bobby sat nearby, working on a carving. She saw
others on a shelf on the wall and went to examine them. One
was of a dog standing, one front leg lifted, his back straight, his
tail stiff and nose straining forward. It was
gorgeous. Another was of a bitch, lying on her side, with puppies
gorging at her teats. That carving made it appear as if the dog
and her puppies were rising from the depths of the wood, appearing as
they drifted upwards. It had an unfinished look, and at the
same time made the viewer realize the relationship between the
unfinished original tree underneath, and the living, breathing
creatures the tree had yielded up. A third piece was a medallion
of intricately carved interwoven lines that formed a Gordian
Knot. It was small enough to be placed on a jewelry box or
some such thing and would make a plain box precious because of its
intricacy.
She realized Mavis was standing beside her and looked over.
"They're so beautiful," she said, her voice almost a whisper.
"They grip my heart," she said. Without realizing she was
saying it she added "Just like Bobby."
Mavis arched an eyebrow. "Not you too."
Rachel realized what she'd said and blushed. "Not me too ... what?"
"That boy's got three of us wrapped around his finger like a teenaged
girl at her first dance." She didn't realize that her use of the
word "us" made it impossible to tell if she was one of the three she
mentioned or not. Rachel, hearing that, felt comradeship with the
older woman.
She turned to Mavis. "Yes, me too. It's
terrible! All I can think about is what he did for
me. What I wish ..." She stopped. "He's just a
boy," she said helplessly.
"I'm not so sure of that," said Mavis, thinking her own
thoughts. "I've got a feeling he's much more of a man than
he looks."
"Why would you say that?" asked Rachel, curious about anything that involved Bobby.
"When he first came here we thought he was simple minded. We gave him baths ... like we do the other children."
Rachel stared at Mavis. The idea of Bobby, being bathed ...
his skin bare and slick with soap ... Her nipples tightened
and tingled. "You've seen him ... naked?" she asked.
Mavis looked at Rachel's wide eyes and chuckled. "We all
have. By the time we figured out he wasn't anywhere near stupid,
it had sort of become a habit, I guess. I should do
something about it. Something's going to happen. I
can feel it in my bones. If it hasn't already," she said,
staring at Bobby.
"You can't mean that any of these women have ..." Rachel couldn't
finish. Somehow the thought of any woman lying with Bobby made
her want to scream. Well, any OTHER woman. "You
haven't ... have you?" she said automatically.
Then Rachel flushed bright red. "Oh Mavis, I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have said that. I have no business prying into your
affairs."
Mavis turned her shrewd glance on the young teacher. "No,
only three of them have bathed him. And I don't think any of them
have done anything completely insane. That's not to say I
haven't thought about it myself. He just has this ...
something. I can't put my finger on it. I should put
my foot down, but I can't." She turned to her guest. "And
now you're smitten with him too. Lands sakes. I need to get
that boy out of here and into a proper place for a boy his age before
something happens for sure."
Rachel felt panic at the idea of Bobby going away. "Mavis,
I'd just die if he went away," she said. Then she promptly
slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified that she'd said it aloud.
Mavis laughed though. "Don't feel that way. I
know how you feel. I can't believe some of the things I've
thought about here lately myself!"
Rachel felt better, and her jealousy fled as if it had never
been. She had someone to confide in who understood, at least a
little, of what she was feeling.
"Do you think we're terrible?" she asked.
Mavis actually thought about that a little bit before answering.
"Rachel, I don't rightly know if we're terrible or not, but I do know
this. He's a good boy, and he deserves whatever happiness he can
find. And I think that goes for the rest of us too.
Life's been pretty hard for the last few years. One part of me
thinks it's like robbing the cradle. But another part of me
thinks that's one big baby over there." She grinned to ease
the seriousness of her voice.
"Well" said Rachel, keeping her face as calm as she could. "If you ever need any help at bath time, you let me know."
Both women burst into gales of laughter, and Bobby looked over at them
from his carving. Their laughter caused a natural smile on
his face and that just made the women laugh harder.
Then Meg cornered Rachel and took her off to read to the children who
weren't listening to the radio program. Mavis walked over to
where Bobby was carving and admired the horse he was working on.
The large, ungainly chunk of wood he'd started with was becoming a
rearing stallion before her very eyes, as, sliver by sliver, he removed
the wood that wasn't part of the horse. She remembered the large
medallion he had carved for the cabinet maker. It was still
sitting in her room, where she'd put it for safe keeping until she
could take it back to the man. She should have taken it days ago,
but somehow kept forgetting. She liked staring at it when she was
getting ready for bed. She decided to take it to the cabinet
maker the next day.
"You're collecting quite a harem young man," she said casually to
Bobby. He looked up and smiled that beautiful
loins-wrenching smile. "You just be careful," she
said. "You're biting off more than you could ever
chew. If any of those women fall in love with you it could cause
an uproar."
Bobby was astonished at her words. He knew that what he was doing
with some of the women was fun - for all of them - but the concept of a
woman falling in love with him, especially older women like that, was
like thinking he could suddenly fly. He snorted and raised
an eyebrow at his guardian.
"You laugh now," said Mavis, reaching out to stroke his hair. "I
think next time you take a bath it had better be me who tends you."
His smile disarmed her completely. He looked almost eager and it
made her feel like a school girl who's been asked to a dance for the
first time. She had a fleeting sensation of caution that shot
through her. "Then again, maybe that's not such a good idea," she
said.
His look of obvious unhappiness made butterflies dance in her stomach and suddenly she didn't feel nearly so old and wrinkled.
The next day Rachel asked Bobby to walk her home after school.
Her visit to Milleson House had been an eye opener for her in several
ways. First she was astounded by the love that the five
women poured out onto their helpless charges. She had known them all as
students, but seeing them at home made her realize they were children
who, though they had no parents or kin, were loved none the less.
Her own upbringing had been short of that kind of love, though there
was some. Her amazingly frank talk with Mavis had somehow set her
free to think about things without feeling like she was perverted, or
strange. And, seeing Bobby carve ... seeing him do things that
men did for a living ... made her look at him more as a man. Her
conscious mind knew he was a boy, but when the radio had given the war
news, and talk had turned to Prudence's husband, away at war, Donna had
offhandedly said "At least we don't have to worry about
Bobby. He can't talk, so they won't take him and send him
off to die." She had turned to look at the boy, and realized that
in a very short time indeed he would be the same age as men who were
fighting for freedom. He would be a man. The thought of him
dying pierced her so painfully that she'd had to sit down for a few
minutes.
That night she thought about how close she had come to death. She
thought about all those children, in that big house, and how wonderful
it would be if they were all her own. She dreamed
impossible dreams of Bobby as her husband ... of Bobby helping her to
fill a house like that.
She didn't actually plan anything. It was all just cotton
in her head. But at school she asked him to walk her
home. And when they got there she offered to feed him,
little as she had, and poor cook that she was. She watched him
eat the cold ham she cut for him ... watched him lick his fingers and
wolf down half a loaf of bread with butter. She gave him one of
her hoarded apples, and watched as the juice ran down from the corners
of his mouth as he crushed the sweet pulp between his teeth.
And words began coming out of her mouth, unbidden, horrifying to the "good girl" in her, but unstoppable.
"You saved me," she said.
He waved his hand, as if he had only split some wood for her, and smiled.
"You saw me naked."
The smile disappeared from his face, and he became serious.
"No man has seen me like that. Not before that day," she
said. Her hands gripped her skirt and twisted it, an
unconscious nervous outlet.
"You saw me naked and all you did was hold me, and comfort me," she said.
He shrugged. He didn't know what else to do.
"I never thanked you," she said.
Bobby pulled paper from his pocket. He always carried that now,
along with a stub of pencil. "Yes you have. Many times," he
wrote.
"I didn't thank you like I should have," she said. "You are my
hero Bobby. And the heros in all the books get the fair maiden's
love in return. They get other things too, Bobby."
Bobby wrote "Those are just fairy tales."
"I want you to kiss me Bobby," she said, her face serious. "Like
in the fairy tales. I know I'm still ugly, but would you
kiss me? Please?"
Bobby wrote "Not ugly. Beautiful." in the corner of the
paper. The pencil slipped in his greasy fingers, and smudged the
paper.
"Let me wash your hands," she said. He stood up and she realized
he was taller than she was. She'd never noticed that
before. She took him to the sink. She had the gray rough
soap he had always seen before he came to Milleson House and he reached
for it. But she snatched the soap first.
"Let me," she said.
The water was cold, and she got the pot she had put on the stove for
tea, adding some to a small pot and mixing in cold. Then
she washed his hands, rubbing each finger.
"Mavis told me they give you baths," she said.
Bobby's eyes widened. What came through her voice astounded
him. He looked at her like an authority figure ... a teacher ...
someone to please ... and who could make life either good or bad for
him. No authority figure had ever said anything to him in that
tone of voice. He felt his penis stir at that tone, but couldn't
believe she meant what it sounded like. He couldn't help but look
around the room for a tub.
She smiled. "No, I don't have a tub like they do over
there. I have to take my baths in this pot," she said. His
look of confusion made her smile.
"Like this," she said. Her fingers went to the buttons of
her dress and undid them. She wore the only brassiere she'd been
able to afford. It was old now, and thin ... stretched by the
weight of her breasts, but she didn't care that he saw it. The
look in his eyes as her near-nude body appeared actually settled
her. He looked at her like a man looks at a woman.
That just solidified in her mind that he was, in fact, a man.
She took a rag and dipped it in the water. Then she rubbed it on
the bar of lye soap and rubbed it up an down one arm, changing to do
the other. Then she rubbed the rag over her chest, above her bra.
"Like this," she said again. "Is this how they bathe you?" she asked, her voice husky now.
Bobby shook his head.
"Show me," she said, breathing faster. "Show me how they bathe you."
Bobby took the rag from her and dropped it in the sink. He got
the soap and dipped it in the water and managed to make thin lather on
his hands. He slid his hands down her arm, one on each side.
"I washed there already," she said, her eyes staring into
his. Her hands went to where the bra came together in the
front. There were laces there and she pulled at a loose end,
undoing them. The bra sagged and pulled apart.
Breathing faster still she pulled it apart. Bobby started to look
away and she spoke.
"No, you've seen me before. It's all right. Wash me here," she said, cupping her breasts.
She moaned as Bobby's hands cupped her heavy mams and slid around the
sides, and then down, his hands scraping across her nipples.
"Oh yesss," she hissed, her eyes closing.
Bobby stopped. He thought he knew what she wanted now, but
still had a hard time believing it. He dipped his hands in the
water and then rinsed her breasts, watching as the water dribbled down
across her abdomen and turned her panties dark where they became
wet. Her hands came to his wrists and he thought it was to stop
him, but they pushed his hands back to her breasts.
Now he knew for sure. It was something he'd never have believed,
but her actions made it clear. He leaned over and sucked at
her nipple, pulling it in, like he had the others.
"AAAAHHHHHH" she groaned, her hands moving to his head. She
suddenly pushed him away, her hands going to his shirt buttons, pulling
at them, trying to get them open. Her eyes were wild and
her teeth were bared as in her frustration she pulled and a button went
sailing across the room to bounce on the floor and hit the wall.
Now it was Bobby's hands that stopped hers, he kissed her once, quickly
on the lips, and shrugged out of his suspenders, his fingers finishing
what she'd started. She stood, frozen, watching his
skin appear and beginning to pant. She stared at the bulge
in his drawers when it was uncovered and held her breath.
When he pushed his drawers down, and his bouncing penis appeared, her
voice took on a high pitched keening noise as she let that breath out
between tightly closed teeth. She sounded terrified.
Bobby took one of her hands, suspended in front of her like some
statue, and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it, like he had
read about in books. Her eyes came back up to his and she
smiled a tremulous tiny smile at his offer of chivalry.
That little act penetrated her terrified brain. He didn't
move ... didn't attack her ... didn't threaten her ... just stood there
looking at her with his serious brown eyes.
"I've never done this," she said, her voice tiny and shrill. "I don't know what to do," she whined.
Bobby had learned a lot in the last few months. Some of it
had been taught to him, but he was a shrewd judge of character and of
people in general. He could hear the fear in her voice, and
he didn't like that sound. He wanted nothing to do with hurting
this woman. He knew she had been hurt by the last man ...
knew she had not been herself for days afterward. When he'd
next seen her she seemed her old self, though horribly
bruised. He knew what that was like - being beaten - and
knew what that did to a person. Very gently, almost painfully
slowly, he pulled at her, getting her close enough to him that he could
hug her.
Rachel hadn't realized how cold it was in her house until she felt her
breasts touch Bobby's chest. She hadn't been able to think about
much of anything once she'd felt his hands on her breasts.
She couldn't believe this was happening to her ... couldn't believe how
she was acting. But the dream she was having, while
astonishingly frightening, also felt somehow right and proper in a way
she couldn't begin to understand. And right now she didn't want
to think. She just wanted to be warm and held in this man's arms.
A sob lurched from her lungs, shaking her shoulders, and her arms went
around Bobby like a vice. She was unbelievably strong in that
moment, crushing her chest and loins to his. She felt that
stiff prong against her belly, and it cause a heat there that was deep
inside her. All her late night cottony yearnings rushed into her
head and burst into parts of her body. Her nipples, despite being
against his warm chest spiked painfully, and she felt a gurgle in her
belly as she became wet between her legs with a rush of fluid.
"I'm cooold" she murmured into his chest.
She felt his head turn ... toward the bed. Something burst inside her and she pushed him away.
"Yes!" she barked. "The bed!"
She all but ran the few short steps, pulling him behind her by his
hand. She threw back the covers and then pushed at her panties,
ripping them in her haste to get them off her body. She fell,
tripping and he caught her by her hips, pushing her toward the
bed. She rolled and with his assistance, ended up on the
bed, scooting to get under the covers. She looked up to see
him standing beside the bed, staring down at her. His penis
looked immense to her untrained eyes, like a club. But she
wanted to be beaten with that particular club.
"Get in bed with me," she moaned. "You have to get in bed with me."
Her invitation galvanized him and he slid in beside her - not on top of
her as she expected - but beside her, moving up against her. She
writhed against him, trying to get every square inch of her skin to
touch his. His lips found hers and she thought she'd drown
on dry land as his tongue swept into her mouth and she suddenly
couldn't breathe. Now she wanted to push him back out,
suddenly afraid again ... afraid of her own reactions to him.
But that kiss went on and he didn't force her to do anything. Her
mind calmed just enough to pull back from panic, and began to recognize
other sensations. Again she felt his heat, and squirmed at
the pleasure of that. One of his hands was on her back,
sliding up and down. It slid onto her buttock and she clenched
it, shoving her mons toward his, loving the rough feel of his hand
scraping her skin. Her kiss became demanding and now it was her
tongue that forced its way into his mouth, searching for whatever it
was she needed so desperately.
Her whole body felt like a balloon, filling with something that was
going to make it burst into a thousand floppy pieces. Her hand
went to his shaft and she was astounded at the velvety feel over the
hardness that she knew was made to thrust inside her body.
She hadn't planned anything. She had wanted something, but she
hadn't known exactly what that was. Now she wanted this velvety
hard thing to go where she suddenly felt so empty. She pulled at
him, knowing that the man was supposed to be on top, but not knowing
what else to do.
He rolled on top of her, remembering the feeling of Prudence's flesh,
wrapped tightly around him and knowing that was what this woman wanted
too. He felt the tip of his cock nudge into that
unbelievable heat.
"Slowly" she groaned, ending in an "eeeeee" sound. Prudence
had wanted him to push hard, and go deep, and that was the only way he
knew to do this thing he'd done only once. But her cry that held
fear in it made him hesitate and he pushed only a little.
He felt the resistance immediately and she groaned again, in
pain. He didn't want to hurt her, and pulled away from her.
"Nooooo" she cried. "It's supposed to hurt the first time," she moaned. "I need you Bobby. Pleeease."
This was something he didn't understand. If it hurt her,
why would she want to do it? He wanted to be inside her.
That was a feeling he wanted badly. But not if she cried
out. She was pulling him toward her again, pulling him into that
heat again.
"Push" she demanded.
He pushed and the resistance bent his prick ... and then vanished as if
it had never been there. He had increased the weight of his
push, and when her hymen tore he sank into her as deeply as he had with
Prudence.
Her agonized cry of pain made him freeze and her fingers dug into his
sides. When he tried to pull out of her those fingers gripped his
flesh painfully.
"Don't move," she groaned. He felt her sobbing and didn't
know what to do. He ducked his head and kissed her eyes,
and then below them. Her cheeks were as far as he could get
without going lower and she arched her neck so her lips came to his.
Her eyes opened and she saw the concern in his deep brown ones.
"I want this," she groaned. "Don't take it out." She kissed
him, and then again, and he felt her hips wiggle under him. Then
her tongue flicked out and she licked his lips.
"It's not so bad now," she moaned. "Just let me get used to it."
Bobby was beginning to think there was something wrong with
her. She felt wonderful, wrapped firmly around him down
there. Her heat was just as hot as Prudence's had been, though
she was tighter. He remembered that Prudence liked it when he
pressed his hair against hers. He dug in his toes and rocked
forward a little.
"OHHHHHHH" Rachel groaned. The pain had been unbelievable
as she felt ... actually felt her flesh tear. Her first
thoughts had been that women must be insane to want this.
But she DID want this ... right now ... with THIS man. The
pain dulled almost instantly, to a feeling a little like being bloated
from eating too much. Then he rocked forward, and she
thought the top of her head was going to pop right off..
"OHHHH YES," she croaked, her voice cracking with emotion.
Her interior muscles rebelled against the invading monster,
squeezing. But she couldn't resist, and those muscles relaxed
again. He felt that and rocked forward again.
"Ohhhh Mama" moaned Rachel, and this time there was only a trace of pain in her voice.
Bobby felt her muscles loosen around him, then they fluttered, like
they couldn't make up their mind whether to grip or loosen.
He heard something other than pain in her voice and rocked into her
again, mashing his hairs against hers hard.
He pulled his penis halfway out, and then slid it gently into her.
"Ohhh I love you," groaned Rachel. At that moment the pain
fled, overcome by something else. Her hips began to try to get
that movement inside her again, jerking. Her hands pushed on his
hips. He backed, just as she did too, and slid completely out of
her.
"NOOOOOOO" she cried, hunching her hips up at him wildly. "Put it
back Innnnnnnnn." He raised up and her hand darted between
them. When she gripped him this time he was wet and sticky.
She nosed the tip back into her emptiness and let out another long
groan as he slid all the way back in, pressing hard. She
felt something deep inside her that was pushed by the tip of his
hardness. That hurt, but in a different way that she instantly
loved.
Slowly, as if blind and feeling their way, they established the age old
rhythm as he began to move in and out of her, pausing every third
stroke or so to push deep and press hard. Rachel couldn't speak
now. She made little sounds, mewls of pleasure. The
rational part of her mind whispered "THIS is why women want to do
this." The animal part of her mind just demanded
more. The full feeling was back, and she felt like her skin
would burst as he sped up. That place that felt so good
when he pressed in was scraped by his shaft as he moved it, and again
she felt like the top of her head must surely explode as the tension in
her built to an unbearable level.
Then it did burst. It burst as he pressed deep and stayed there,
the tip of his prick nudging what she didn't know were her inner
lips. Those lips kissed the tip of his prick as she saw stars and
her world collapsed on her like an avalanche. She felt unbearable
pleasure in her loins that streaked outwards to all parts of her body
like fireworks. And through it all, somehow, she felt, issuing
from the tip of that hard thing inside her, that was nosing into her
virgin womb, the rush of his seed as it erupted and filled her
innermost secret place.
She wasn't sure when she became aware of anything outside her
body. The first thing she felt was his weight, bearing down on
her, and then his chest moving against hers as he gasped for
breath. Immediately after that she felt her own breath being
dragged into her lungs in cool, clean rushes that cleared her
head. Next she felt the heat generated by their union as
sweat trickled down her shoulder and into her arm pit. She wanted
to laugh at all those times she had been disgusted by a runnel of sweat
as it betrayed her sensibilities. She felt more of it between her
breasts and pushed on him to get air between them. Her
finger went to the little pool of sweat as they both looked down
between her breasts.
He had stopped filling her somehow, even though his groin was planted
firmly against hers, little trickles of joy still sparking in her as
his hair rubbed against her there. Then she felt the real
emptiness as he lifted his hips and his softened member pulled free.
"Ohhhhh" she complained, as she felt that emptiness. Then
he shocked her by dipping his head and licking at the tiny puddle of
sweat between her breasts. She gasped, and kept gasping as
his lips and tongue tickled their way up one mound and he suckled the
nipple he found there.
"Ahhhhhhhh" she sighed. Ecstasy. This was the
definition of ecstasy. THIS was why women wanted to do this thing.
He continued to lap and suck at her nipples gently, changing from one
to the other at precisely the right intervals, before his suction
caused pain. As he kissed her shoulders and then her neck
she tilted her head, loving the feel of his lips as they sent tiny
thrills through her tired body.
Tired.
She was exhausted. She wanted to sleep for a month.
The feel of something wet dribbling between her buttocks made her think of what that was.
His seed.
He had flushed her full of his seed.
She was a woman ... of childbearing age. She could be
pregnant as she thought about this feeling. She examined that
possibility with a remarkably clear inner vision, watching herself
thinking about that ... watching her hand slid between them to seal off
the leak of that precious fluid.
She wanted this man's baby. She wanted ten of this man's
babies. She wanted to start all over again and do what they had
done for a month straight. THEN she would think about
sleeping. Her fingers pressed his seed into her and she hit
that special spot that he had made feel so good ... that spot that had
made the horrible pain go away.
Horrible pain? Part of her mind knew there had been
horrible pain, but it was a dim and dusty memory now, something like a
healed cut that only felt a twinge now and again, but was almost whole.
Whole.
She felt whole.
She marveled at what she had done, and how completely whole she felt with all that seed inside her body.
Bobby got up to his hands and knees, preparing to get off the bed.
Rachel moaned softly. It was cold! How could she be
sweating and be cold at the same time? It was crazy!
As he stood up she pulled the blankets over her with her free hand and
made a humming noise as the warmth from his back, that had been infused
into the blanket, settled down over her. She peeked out
from the covers, looking at him. His penis was soft and
shriveled now, hanging forlornly between his legs, like a dog that has
been scolded. She wanted to make it long and hard again, as
it should be.
He was bending over the table now, naked, and he was beautiful in her
eyes. He didn't seem to mind the cold at all.
He handed her a note.
"I should leave now?" it said.
"I don't want you to leave," she whined, like a little girl.
He went back to the table and wrote again.
"They'll wonder where I am," said the note this time.
"Will you walk me home tomorrow?" she asked, her voice still young and petulant.
He nodded, smiling widely.
"Then you can go," she said. She watched him as he dressed,
watching the muscles in his arms and back as he bent and
stood. She wanted him to come back to bed, to stay in her
bed the rest of the day ... all night. She didn't know how
often a man could do that, but she wanted it to be many times per day.
He kissed her lips before he left, a soft, gentle kiss that made her
itch between her legs. She wanted to make him kiss her neck and
breasts again, all over her body, but she knew he was right, that he
had to go home.
She wondered, as the door closed behind him, if she would hate herself
when she fully thought about what had happened. She was
asleep before she could find out.
Meg sat and fed the baby at supper that night. She had placed
herself so she could see Bobby without it being obvious. There
was something ... different ... about him tonight. She
watched closely to see what he did at supper, but she saw nothing
odd. He passed bowls, and helped a child if that child
needed help. He ate his usual prodigious amount of food, and
smiled and chewed. She was almost frustrated because she KNEW
that something about him was different. Was he a little
straighter? Were his shoulders a little more
squared? Did he somehow look more confident?
His eyes drifted and caught hers. He smiled. He needed a
haircut. But he was so handsome it made her stomach hurt.
Mavis sat at the table, queen of all she surveyed. She saw Meg
watching Bobby. Sally was looking at him quite often as
well. She watched Donna for a while, and didn't notice anything
out of the ordinary. Prudence, for the last day or two, had been
on cloud nine. She laughed at everything. Her play
with the children was intense and purposeful, as if she were trying to
squeeze every bit of joy out of life that it was possible to get.
Mavis wondered if her husband had seen the light and written her
another letter, begging her to forgive him and take him back. She
acted like that ... like she had a good man in her life again.
She was watching Pru when she saw her make eye contact with Bobby. He grinned and she blushed.
Mavis felt like she was watching one of those radio dramas play out
before her very eyes. What was she going to do? She
had to do something ... but what was it going to be?
