The Making of a Gigolo - Janet Griswold by Beating Off Bob



   Foreword

   This is story number twelve in a series of stories about how Bobby
Dalton was transformed, from a normal teenage boy, into a man sought after
by many women.  His story starts with "The Making of a Gigolo - Tilly
Johnson", and there is much information in that first story, and the ones
that followed it, that will be useful to you in understanding what happens
in this story.

   For your fullest enjoyment, and because parts of each story are
continued in succeeding ones, please read the stories in order.

   Bob

   ==================================.

   Chapter One

   1974 - December

   Janet Griswold was sitting in front of her TV feeling sorry for herself.
It was the seventeenth of December, and she was "celebrating" her
thirty-second birthday.  So far, only her best friend, Rhonda, had called
to wish her happy birthday.  Even then, it had only been a call, without an
offer to take her out to dinner or anything!

   Of course, Janet was used to that, on her birthday.  As a child, the
fact that her birthday was so close to Christmas had led to the inevitable
combination of both holidays, meaning she got nothing until Christmas
morning.  True, she always got a cake on Christmas day, but she had always
felt a little like she had been cheated.

   A lot of Janet's life seemed to have been short changed a bit.  Her
first husband, Willard, had been a mean drunk, and had smacked her around
when he was drinking.  She'd taken it for a year, thinking she could change
him.  Then he'd broken two of her fingers when he bent them back, while
screaming at her.  That had been the last straw, as far as she was
concerned, and she'd filed for divorce.  That he had left without comment
didn't make her feel any better.

   Then, when she had decided he was just a fluke, she had taken the chance
again, marrying Jack, a man she met at a town celebration.  He had turned
out to be a jealous man.  At a party, when she was with a group of other
wives, he had overheard a man saying he'd like to fuck her.  That the man
was drunk, and also said he'd like to fuck the other women in the group
didn't matter.  Jack told her about it later that night, when they got
home.

   All she had done was smile, and he had slapped her around, telling her
not to get any ideas.  Then he had dominated her in an hour long sexual
encounter, in which he had demanded she cum, because it was important to
him that HE be the man who made her cum.  When she finally did, he slapped
her again, twice, and told her to remember that she was his bitch, and that
she'd better never let any other dog come sniffing around.

   She had taken it from Willard a dozen times, before getting up the
courage to leave him.  This time, when she stared at the hand print on her
cheek, the next morning, she moved her stuff out as soon as he went to
work. - possible rewrite needed

   Jack fought the divorce bitterly.  She was of the opinion that he just
didn't want any other man to have her.  The only reason she felt safe from
him now was because his company had moved him to Albany, New York.  He was
supposed to pay her alimony, but she hadn't seen a check in years.

   Since then she had just about decided that she didn't want any other man
to have her either.  It wasn't that she didn't miss the better, kinder
parts of a relationship.  She missed the intimacy and the camaraderie a
lot. She missed the sex too.  Both men had pleased her, when they weren't
being bastards.

   But she just didn't trust men anymore.

   She talked a good game, at least to Rhonda, making suggestive remarks,
commenting on men; as if she were a tiger on the prowl, and those men were
prey.  But it was all a front.  She was scared to death to think about
dating again ...  about exposing herself to a man's control ...  and wrath.

   She had purchased what she called her "perfect man", a seven inch dildo
that only Rhonda knew she owned.  She had used it for over five years, but
lately, it had lost some of its appeal.

   Almost three years ago, she had managed to help her friend Rhonda, who
was stuck in an untenable marriage with a homosexual man.  Her "perfect
man" had gotten a lot of use back then, as she saw Rhonda blossom and
flower in the relationships she had with Bobby Dalton.  Janet had paid the
man to have sex with Rhonda.  The change in Rhonda had been startling ...
almost unbelievable.  She had even had the man's baby!

   Janet was a frequent visitor to Rhonda's house and had helped, to a
large extent, raise little Elizabeth, who was almost two years old now.

   During that time, she had seen Bobby lots of times, when he came over to
spend time with his daughter and her mother.  Janet always pulled back a
bit whenever Bobby was there.  It wasn't that he scared her.  He was always
friendly and polite.  And Rhonda obviously had a special place in her heart
for him.  It was just ...  well ...  it was just that he was a ...  man.

   He was a handsome man.  He was obviously good in bed, if Rhonda was
anything to go by.  He seemed like a nice guy.  But, in the end, he was a
man ...  and she could not bring herself to trust one of them again.

   She'd been plenty envious of Rhonda, in the beginning.  There were
times, back then, that Janet thought about how much better looking she was
than Rhonda, with her hourglass figure, and firm, high-riding breasts.  She
had driven her husbands crazy with lust, and she'd seen that same lust in
lots of other male eyes.  She hadn't seen it in Bobby's eyes, though.  Not
for her.  She saw it in his eyes when he looked at Rhonda ...  plain,
dowdy, slightly overweight Rhonda.

   And she'd felt shame.  Rhonda deserved happiness, and she had found some
measure of it with Bobby.  It was then that Janet put Bobby Dalton off
limits, and reminded herself that he was ...  a man.

   She lifted the small tumbler of bourbon she had allowed herself for her
birthday.  She was careful with whisky, knowing what it had done to her
first husband, and others she knew.  She tossed off the half inch left in
the tumbler and winced as the whiskey burned her throat.  She stood, and
wavered, realizing that she had drunk the three fingers she'd allowed
herself much too quickly.  It didn't matter.  She was just going to go to
bed.  She'd wake up tomorrow, and it wouldn't be her birthday anymore. 
That would be a better day.

   She had just washed out the glass, and settled it carefully into the
dish drainer, when the doorbell sounded.

   She looked at her wrist, which was bare.  She'd taken her watch off
earlier.  She looked up at the clock above the sink.  No luck there.  The
battery had been dead for ages, and the clock had read 3:14 ever since. 
Next she looked at the window.  It was dark.  Who could be at her door?

   She felt the nervousness that a single woman always feels, when someone
is at the door and it's dark outside.  She tiptoed to the door, as if that
might keep her safe, somehow.

   "Who is it?" she yelled through the wood.

   "Bobby," came a man's voice, through the door.  "Bobby Dalton."

   Janet blinked.  Why would Bobby Dalton be here?

   "Rhonda's not here," she yelled, going for the obvious reason he might
be there.

   "I know," he said.  "Can I come in?"

   She wasn't afraid of Bobby, so she opened the door.

   "What are you doing here?" she asked, peering through the storm door at
him.

   "Happy birthday," he said, grinning.  He held up a colorfully wrapped
present.

   "For me?" she asked, in amazement.  She opened the screen door and he
stepped in.

   "You're the only one here who's having a birthday, aren't you?" he
asked. He looked around in an exaggerated manner, looking for any other
people.

   "Of course," she said, reaching for the package.

   She couldn't remember the last time someone had given her a real
birthday present ...  on her birthday, and her fingers tore at the paper,
to reveal a tin of chocolate covered cashew nuts.

   "Rhonda said they were your favorite," said Bobby.

   "They are!" said Janet.  "Thank you!"

   "Um ...  that's not all," said Bobby, carefully.

   "What else?" asked Janet, excitedly.

   "Rhonda got you something too," he said.

   "What, what?!" she demanded.

   "Well ...  uh ...  me."

   "What?" Janet looked confused.

   "Remember how you hired me for her?" he asked.  "She did the same thing
...  except it's for you."

   Janet's fingers went numb.  He was here!  In the house!  He wanted sex!

   "No!" she whispered.

   "Really," he said, looking earnest.  "I wouldn't tease you about that,
Janet."

   "No!" she said, more loudly.  "You can't!  NO!"

   She thrust the cashews at him, more as something to keep him away from
her than anything else.  When he took them from her nerveless fingers, the
barrier between them was gone, and she felt even more vulnerable.

   "No ...  please," she moaned, backing up.

   While he stood there, she turned and dashed for her bedroom door.  She
ran inside and slammed it closed, reaching to engage the lock that wasn't
there.  She looked at the knob, helplessly, and gripped it with her hand,
as tightly as she could.

   "Janet?" came his voice, through her bedroom door.

   "NO!" she yelled.  "GO AWAY!"

   "Janet," he said.  "I'm not going to hurt you." He had known Janet would
react to this ...  he just hadn't known how she would react.  "It's just
for your birthday," he added, hopefully.

   "Just leave, Bobby," she moaned.  "She shouldn't have done this."

   "Can't we just talk about it?" asked Bobby.  "She paid me already."

   "Give her the money back," she said through the door.

   Her hand still gripped the knob tightly.  She hadn't felt him try to
turn it, but she wasn't taking chances now.

   "I'm not leaving here with you acting like this," said Bobby.  "Come out
and we'll just talk."

   "Noooooo, Bobby," she moaned.  "Pleeeease leave."

   "Not until you calm down, and talk to me," he insisted.  "Why are you so
afraid of me?"

   "I'm not ..." she started to say, and realized that was patently false.
She WAS afraid of him.  She took a breath and thought about that.  Why was
she afraid of Bobby Dalton?  He'd never done anything even remotely
aggressive.  There had been that one time, when he'd offered to let her
watch while he ravished Rhonda, but she'd found out later that had just
been a prank.  She remembered being astonished that Rhonda had gone along
with it.  It had been so different than what she would have expected Rhonda
to do.  She'd expected that Rhonda might hide in her room.

   Like she was doing right now!

   "Wait in the living room," she called through the door.

   "OK," he said.  "You're coming out?"

   "I don't know," she yelled.  "Just go wait there, please?"

   "OK, Janet."

   She waited to feel his hand on the knob, but it never came.  She waited,
wondering if he was on the other side of the door, being quiet, so he could
grab her when she opened the door.

   She couldn't stay in here all night.

   She suddenly felt foolish.  She was overreacting.  She knew that, but
her stomach still roiled.  The fear was almost palpable.  She'd had no idea
it would be like this!  She felt crippled.  - doesn't make sense, implies
she had foreknowledge about bobby

   "Bobby?" she said softly.  "Are you out there?"

   When nothing came through the door, she turned the knob slowly.  Panic
gripped her heart as she opened it ...  just a crack ...  and peeked out.

   Nothing.

   She felt even more foolish, and opened it wider, her muscles still ready
to flee.

   He wasn't in the hallway either.

   Of course he wasn't!  It was Bobby!  Why was she so frightened?  He was
in the living room, where she'd asked him to go.

   She tried to move confidently toward the living room.  She'd say a few
words to him ...  explain that she'd had a bad day or something.  He'd
leave, and she'd be safe again.

   She had to walk by the kitchen doorway on the way, and movement caught
her eye as she did.  Her head turned to see him standing there.

   "Eeeep!" she yelped, banging off the hallway wall as she lurched away
from him.

   He held out a glass with orange liquid in it.

   "I thought you might like something to drink," he said.  "Orange juice
was all I found in the fridge." He peered at her.  "Are you OK?"

   "Yes!" she said, feeling more foolish than ever.  "I just had a bad day,
that's all."

   "You've been drinking," he commented.

   "No!" she said, denying it.

   "Janet, I can smell it on your breath."

   How had he gotten so close to her?  He was right THERE!

   She saw the glass move toward her, and took it with a shaky hand.

   "You need to sit down," he said.

   "OK," she muttered.  "Yes."

   She sat.  He sat across the room from her, in a chair.  She gulped at
the orange juice.

   "I'm not like this," she said.

   "Obviously, you are like this," said Bobby.  He sipped juice too, and
looked as normal as the day is long.  "I'm just curious about why.  I'd
like to think that you'd know I'd never hurt you."

   "I didn't think that!" she lied.

   "Yes you did," he said.  "You were terrified.  What did I do to terrify
you?"

   "Just go home, Bobby," she sighed.  "It's not you."

   "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

   "No."

   "Would you talk about it anyway?" he asked.

   She looked up, confused.  If you didn't want to talk about something,
that was all there was to say about it ...  wasn't it?

   "Why do you even care?" asked Janet.  "If it's the money, I'll give you
whatever she gave you."

   He sighed.  "It's not the money, Janet.  Aren't we friends?  Don't
friends talk?  I could care less about the money, even though I asked for
more for you." He looked pained, as though he hadn't meant to say that.

   "What?" asked Janet.  "You asked for more?  For me?  Why?  What's wrong
with me?"

   "Never mind that," he said.  "I shouldn't have said that.  I'm sorry."

   "What did you mean?" she insisted.

   "Look," he said.  "Rhonda paid me for three hours, OK?  Let's just say I
wanted to have plenty of time to spend with you.  We can do anything you
want.  If you want to bake cookies, I'll bake them with you.  If you want
to clean the house, I'll help.  If you've got anything broken, I'll fix it.
It doesn't have to be sex.  It was just Rhonda trying to do something nice
for you, OK?"

   "Why would Rhonda DO that?" moaned Janet.

   "Why did you do it for her?" he asked in return.

   "That's different!" she said.  "She was miserable."

   "And you're just brimming over with happiness," he said flatly.  "That's
why you smiled so much when I showed up, and were so giddy and all." She
couldn't miss the sarcasm in his voice.

   "It's not you," she said, almost petulantly.  "I've just had ... 
problems ...  with men."

   "What kind of problems?" he asked.

   "It's personal," she said.

   "I was paid to make love to you, Janet.  That's kind of personal too,
don't you think?"

   She blinked.  Her husbands had been good in bed, but neither of them
would have used a term like "make love".  They had wanted to "get it on",
or said things like "Get naked, baby, cause Daddy has a treat for you."

   "Why would you even want to do that?" she asked, trying to sort out her
thoughts.

   "Well, part of it was as a favor to Rhonda," he said, being truthful. 
"And I guess part of it is because you're a fine looking woman."

   Her mind roiled even more.  She'd LOOKED for signs that he thought she
was attractive.  She'd never seen even one!  He'd always treated her as
Rhoda's friend.  He'd been friendly ...  but that was all.

   "You never said anything," she said, somewhat defensively.

   "I never thought you were interested," he said.  "You were always a
little standoffish.  At least that's what I thought."

   "You were Rhonda's," she said.

   "I'm not Rhonda's, and Rhonda's not mine," he said patiently.  "We've
shared some very special moments, but we don't own each other."

   "You know what I mean," she insisted.  "She had your baby, for pity's
sake!"

   "We didn't exactly plan for that to happen," he said.  "Not at first,
anyway."

   "I'm just not ...  comfortable ...  around men," she said.

   "Are you a lesbian?" he asked.

   She looked shocked.

   "Of COURSE NOT!" she almost yelled.  "Did Rhonda SAY that?"

   "No," said Bobby.  "It's just that you were so obviously not interested
in sex ...  and you said it wasn't me ...  so I thought maybe you just
weren't interested in men.  It's fine with me if that's true."

   "Well it's NOT true!" she said.

   "OK, then," he said.  "I just like you and I don't like seeing you all
upset like this."

   "You just called me a lesbian!" she said.  "Why wouldn't I be upset?"

   "You were upset before that, Janet," he sighed.  "You want to go get a
burger or something?"

   "A burger?  It's dark outside!"

   "What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?" he asked.

   "Where would we get a burger this time of night?" she asked.

   "I don't know, Wichita, maybe," he said patiently.

   "Wichita?!  You'd drive all the way to Wichita just to get a burger?"
She was obviously still agitated.

   "I'd drive all the way to Wichita as an excuse to spend some time with
you and calm you down," he explained.

   She stopped, almost speechless.  "You would?"

   "Sure," he said.  "Why not?  I've got three hours to spend with you, and
that's just on the clock.  If it takes four, I'll donate the time to a
worthy cause."

   "Oh, now I'm a cause, am I?" she said tightly.

   "Janet, do you like me?" he asked.  "'Cause if you don't like me, and
just don't want to be around me, that's fine.  I can live with that."

   "No, you're OK," she said, instinctively trying not to be rude to him.

   "Then let's go get a burger and a shake, and try to figure out why
you're so jumpy."

   "I know why I'm jumpy," she said, almost pouting.

   "Well, then, you can explain it to me," he said.  "Are you coming or
not? It's YOUR birthday we're celebrating here, so I think you should at
least come along."

   She dithered for a few seconds, and then looked at him.  He looked just
like he always looked.  It was disturbing, because he WAS handsome.  Her
femininity noticed that and just naturally wanted to open that door, but
her conscious mind fought with the urge to explore.

   "You won't try anything?" she asked.

   He sighed.  "No, Janet.  I get the message, OK?"

   "Just for a burger?" she asked, still nervous.

   "And maybe a shake and some fries," he said seriously.  "And to talk."

   "OK," she said suddenly, and headed for the door.

   "You might want to take a coat," he said.

   "Oh.  Yes.  Of course," she said, feeling silly.

   ===================================

   Wichita was exactly forty-seven miles from Granger, but the strip on
West Kellogg Street was where they entered town, and that's where all the
fast food places were.  Janet was astonished at how quickly they got there.

   That's because, once he got her talking, she had talked pretty much
non-stop.  Women like to talk to women.  That's known.  Call it bonding, or
friendship, or even a natural propensity for females to be motor-mouths. 
What most people don't know, though, is that women like to talk to men too.

   At least when they listen.

   And that's the problem.  Most men don't take the time to listen to a
woman.  Men are action oriented, genetically.  Men want to DO something, as
opposed to TALK about something.  And, therefore, most men have a tendency
to want to move a relationship past the talking point.

   For women, talking is sometimes foreplay.  They may not be aware of it,
but having a man talk to them, and listen to them, can actually be a form
of sexual intimacy.  Men don't understand that either.  If they did, they
would realize that just talking, and sharing thoughts with a woman, will
get you a lot closer to getting laid than flexing your muscles.

   To be fair, neither of the people in Bobby's car that evening were
thinking about that.  Bobby just knew she was agitated, and let her talk it
out.  Janet was starved for some normal interplay with a man who respected
her, and, once she got started, she was practically bulimic about it.

   She told him about both her husbands, and his infrequent "Uh huh," or
"That's too bad," kind of comments, as he drove through the dark, were the
perfect pushes to keep her going.  She'd actually analyzed what went wrong
in both marriages in a very astute way.  Knowing what's wrong, though,
doesn't necessarily mean you know how to fix it.  The bottom line was that
Janet didn't trust men ...  any men.

   Food, especially fatty food that isn't good for you, physically, does
wonders to the pleasure centers in the brain.  If we were still hunters and
gatherers, like men and women were fifty-thousand years ago, a
cheeseburger, fries, and chocolate shake would be the perfect meal.  It
would provide badly needed calories that taste fabulous, and flood the
brain with chemicals that relax us and make us feel wonderful.

   It was for that reason that on the way back to Granger, Janet Griswold
was much more relaxed, and much less anxious, when Bobby got to the root of
her concerns.

   As odd as it is to think about, the pinnacle of the night was when Bobby
got Janet to admit, out loud, that she was scared of men.  She'd known that
subconsciously for quite a while.  But she'd never admitted it, because it
made her feel weak and impotent.  She wanted to think of herself as a
strong woman, who had gotten rid of two abusive husbands, and made her own
way in life.  She had a job, and she made her house payments.  She had
convinced herself that she didn't NEED a man.  She spent the first
forty-seven miles trying to convince Bobby of that.

   "So," he summed up.  "You picked two of the wrong men, and tried to love
them, but they treated you badly."

   "Yes," she said.  Hadn't she already explained all that to him?  Hadn't
it taken her almost an hour to do so?

   "And that makes you afraid of all men."

   "I'm not AFRAID of men," she objected.  "I just don't see the use in
messing up your life with them."

   "You were afraid of me," he pointed out.

   "I was not!" she argued.

   "Janet," he said softly.  "You were terrified."

   Being with a man for an hour and a half - especially when that man
listens to you, doesn't put the make on you, and treats you with respect -
makes it pretty hard to be scared to death of him.  It also puts your
previous erratic behavior with that man on a pedestal that's impossible to
ignore.

   "OK, I was a little scared," she admitted.  "I'm not scared of you now,
though."

   "I think you're scared of all men," he said.  "When I first showed up,
you saw just a man, and reacted to that.  You've had time to calm down and
think about it.  That's all that's changed."

   "I disagree," she said.  "You just surprised me, that's all."

   "Did you know I think you have really fabulous breasts?" asked Bobby
casually.  "And your lips ...  I'd love to kiss them."

   "What?!" Janet scooted closer to the passenger door.

   "See?" he asked, not looking at her in the dark car.  "All I did was
tell you what I was thinking, and you're about to climb out of the car.  If
you're not afraid of me, why are you so upset?"

   "That's not fair!" said Janet, agitated again.  "You were talking about
sex!"

   "Isn't sex part of life?" asked Bobby.  "Don't you expect men to bring
sex up, sooner or later, in a conversation or relationship?" He did look
over at her, briefly, then.  "Didn't you say that the sex with your
ex-husbands was great?"

   "Yes, but ..." Janet subsided.  "You can't have great sex one minute,
and then be terrified that there will be a fist in your face the next
minute!"

   "Not all men are like that, Janet," he said calmly.

   "Every one I met was!" she insisted.

   "No, every one you MARRIED was," corrected Bobby.

   "What's the difference?" she moaned.

   "The difference is that that made you scared of all men ...  even the
ones who won't hurt you."

   "OK!" she almost yelled.  "I'm afraid of men!  I can't do anything about
that!"

   "Sure you can," said Bobby.  "All you have to do is learn how to tell
the abusive ones from the ones that aren't."

   "And how, exactly, do I do that?" she asked, her voice heated.

   "I don't know," said Bobby.  "But what I do know is that you have lots
of experience at being around abusive men.  You know their mannerisms and
habits.  You know the way they act when something goes wrong.  You've seen
them working into being in an abusive state.  You're the expert here, not
me."

   "I don't feel like an expert," she said.

   "Well, maybe that's something we can work on," said Bobby.

   "Why do you even care?" she asked.

   "I try to help my friends," he answered.

   "Why am I your friend?" she asked.

   "You introduced me to Rhonda," he said, smiling in the dark.  "Rhonda is
very special to me.  And you're her best friend.  Isn't that enough?"

   "It just seems weird that you'd do that with Rhonda, and then ..." She
didn't finish.

   "Want to do it with you too?" he guessed.

   "Yes," she said.

   "Have you looked in a mirror lately?" he asked.

   "Of course."

   "I'm a man," he said, "like dozens of other men who have noticed you
before, and been interested in getting to know you better.  Why do you
think it's odd that I'd be interested in you sexually?"

   "You're making me nervous again," she moaned.

   "We'll have to work on that too," he said.

   Chapter Two

   It was late when he got her back home.  He walked her to the door, at
which point she was nervous again.

   "I'm not going to try to kiss you good night," he said, joking.

   "Thank you," she said, perfectly serious.

   "I would like to spend some more time with you, though," he said.

   "You already spent the three hours with me," she pointed out.

   "I decided to donate that time," he said, grinning.  "Rhonda's time
hasn't started yet."

   She looked at him.  "You just want to get in my pants," she accused.

   "That thought has occurred to me," he teased.  Then he got serious. 
"But if that never happens, then that never happens.  I can live with that.
I just want to know, at some point, that you're comfortable being around a
man who finds you very attractive, and would get in your pants if he
could."

   "You're a very strange man," she said.

   "Nope," he said.  "I'm normal in every way.  That's what I want you to
understand.  I want you to understand there are perfectly nice, perfectly
harmless, perfectly normal men out there that you don't have to be afraid
of."

   "You make it sound like you're on a mission," she said.

   "Maybe I am," he responded.

   ==================================

   An hour later, Janet lay in bed, thinking about the evening.  She didn't
feel nervous now.  But then, he was gone.  He had looked so big, standing
there.  He had such big, strong hands ...  hands that could hurt her.  Her
conscious mind told her he'd never do that, but it was impossible to just
abandon the caution she'd built into a wall between her and men in general.

   Maybe she could put a door in that wall ...  a very small door ...  that
somehow, only Bobby Dalton could come through ...  just to talk, of course.
She'd really liked talking, even though she'd told him some very private
things.  She was pretty sure she could trust him not to blab that around.
She could trust him that far, at least.  And he HAD spent all that time
with her, without trying anything.  She had never had that kind of
conversation with a man ...  a conversation in which he said he wanted her
...  as a woman ...  but then didn't push it ...  didn't force it ... 
didn't demand it.

   The woman in her loved that honest attention.  Men looked at her in the
grocery store all the time.  She was aware of that.  She knew what they
were thinking, as they stared at her breasts instead of her face.  They
weren't honest about it, though.  They made polite conversation, as if they
weren't thinking about her breasts.  It was one of the reasons she didn't
trust men.

   Her conscious mind made a decision, there in the dark.  She'd give Bobby
a chance ...  let him see her again.  She'd be very careful, but she'd
explore this different kind of man a little more.  Not that she'd DO
anything with him.  Just more talking, maybe.  Yes ...  that might be nice.
She'd trust him ...  just a little ...  while still being careful.

   She was wondering what the next time would be like as she drifted off to
sleep.

   ================================

   Janet should have known that Rhonda would be eager to find out how
things went.  If she'd thought back to when she'd hired Bobby for Rhonda,
she might have remembered how curious SHE was about Rhonda's experience
with Bobby.

   What was ironic about it was that she did exactly what Rhonda had done,
though not because she was coached by Bobby.

   When Rhonda called the next morning, and squealed "Well, how WAS it?!"
Janet lied.

   "He's quite a man," she said.

   "Isn't he though?" sighed Rhonda.  "I always love being with him.  Was
he gentle with you?"

   "Of course," said Janet.

   "What did he do?" asked her friend, wondering if he always treated every
woman like he treated her.

   "Oh, the usual things," said Janet, who had almost forgotten what "the
usual things" were.

   It was that that undid her.  She didn't sound either excited or
convincing.

   "Such as," asked Rhonda, her voice different, with less enthusiasm and
more suspicion.

   "Oh, you know," said Janet, trying to think about doing something with
Bobby and not panic at the same time.

   "No, that's why I'm asking you," said Rhonda, suspicion heavy in her
voice.

   "Like he does with you," said Janet, feeling a different kind of panic.

   "You didn't let him, did you." said Rhonda.  It was a statement, rather
than a question.

   "Of course I did," said Janet.

   "Don't you lie to me!" barked Rhonda.  "What happened?  If he treated
you badly, I'll skin him alive!"

   "No!" said Janet.  "It just didn't work out, that's all.  He didn't do
anything wrong."

   "It was your birthday present!" objected Rhonda.  "It was supposed to
make you happy!"

   "We had a good time," said Janet.  "We went and got burgers in Wichita."

   "You went to WICHITA?!" howled Rhonda, "Instead of getting laid by the
best lover this side of the Mississippi?!"

   "Don't yell at me!" yelled Janet.  "I told you it just didn't work out.
It was just a first date, OK?  I'm going to see him again!  Calm down!"

   "How can I calm down when I got my best friend the best birthday present
I could think of, and she didn't even OPEN it?!"

   "Please don't push me," moaned Janet.  "We talked last night, and it was
really nice.  I'm going to see him again.  Maybe something will happen."

   "Janet, I paid him to have sex with you!" said Rhonda, her voice harsh.
"If he didn't have sex with you, it was HIM who stopped it."

   "I know that," said Janet.  "And I appreciate what you did for me,
really I do.  I just got nervous, that's all."

   "I was nervous too," said Rhonda, suddenly remembering that first night
with Bobby.  She had chickened out too, come to think of it.  "OK, I know
how you felt.  I'd forgotten that part.  It's OK.  You said you're going to
see him again?"

   "Yes," said Janet.

   "OK," said her best friend.  "That's good enough for me.  I have faith
in him."

   "What about me?" asked Janet, somewhat perturbed.

   "I have faith that Bobby will do whatever it is you need," said Rhonda.
"All you need to work on is letting him do whatever that is."

   "Oh," said Janet.

   "He's a good man, Janet."

   "I know that," said Janet.

   "He can make you feel wonderful."

   "I know that too," said Janet.

   "You just have to learn to let him," said Rhonda.

   "I know that too," said Janet again.

   "So when is your second date?" asked her friend.

   "I don't know yet," said Janet.  "We didn't talk about that."

   "If you ever want me to get you another birthday present, you'd better
call him pronto!" snapped Rhonda.

   "OK, OK, don't get your panties in a wad!" snapped Janet back at her
friend.

   "When it comes to Bobby, I don't wear them anymore," said Rhonda,
smugly.

   Then she hung up.

   =======================================

   January of 1975 was a relatively calm month from Bobby's perspective. 
Linda was still living at home, but most of her time was spent with four
month old Randall.  She was a single-minded mother, who was conflicted
about her child.  She was aware that it was Bobby who had gotten her
pregnant, based on Randall's physical characteristics.  For that reason,
she wanted Bobby to pay a lot of attention to him, which Bobby was happy to
do; being a surrogate father for Paul, who was back at school again.

   On the other hand, Linda loved Paul, and wished, part of the time, that
she had had his baby.  She was determined to get pregnant by Paul as soon
as possible.  That caused her a problem, because she still got horny, and
Bobby was the only man around to solve that problem.  At the same time, she
didn't want Bobby to get her pregnant again.  She had slipped up last time,
letting him spurt in her when it was dangerous to do so, and was intent on
not letting that happen again.  The problem was that Bobby loved sucking
her milk, at least as much as Randall did, who was a lusty eater.  And when
Bobby sucked her milk, she wanted Bobby's prick in her pussy.  - slightly
awkward, may need reworked

   She therefore bounced from wanting Bobby to not wanting Bobby.

   The twins were in their last year of high school, and had begun dating.
That in itself was unusual, because, up to that point, they had had no
interest in boys as anything other than friends.  When their mother had put
the rest of the girls on birth control pills, they were actually
embarrassed by it.  They were quite sure that all the other kids in school
would find out their older sisters were on the pill and assume that they
were all sluts, and that the twins were probably sluts too.

   That, in fact, was one of the reasons that the twins appeared to have no
interest in boys.

   Being a twin can be a different kind of life than most of us imagine. 
You're never really alone, even when you're alone, because that other half
of you is always hovering ...  just there.  As a result, twins often spend
a lot more time interacting with each other than the rest of us interact
with any other person.  What that can mean is that they don't spend as much
time as the rest of us thinking about other things ...  like sex.

   This is not to suggest that twins don't have sexual thoughts.  They just
may not have as much time each day to think about that as the rest of us
do. It is a small thing, but, as anyone who has thrown a small pebble into
a calm pond knows, small things can have much bigger effects.

   In this case, the pond was the fact that after Mirriam put the other
girls on the pill, and there were no more "incidents", things seemed to be
going along just fine.  The twins, and Suzie too for that matter, exhibited
no outward indication that boys were anything more than other people they
sometimes had to deal with.  The pond was, more or less, the fact that the
twins did nothing to cause Mirriam to remember they weren't, in fact, on
the pill as they grew older.

   They did of course eventually get more interested in boys.  That was the
pebble.

   They were in their senior year when they began paying attention to the
sexuality of the opposite sex.  That was a little late, compared to most
girls.  But the twins lived life differently than other girls, and matured
a little later than them too.  And, because they were twins, when they
finally decided to like boys for their more gender specific qualities, that
happened a little differently too.

   The problem was that they both liked the same boy, a young man named
Chuck Cunningham.  He liked both of them too, though he didn't know it, at
first.  At first, he thought he liked Matilda, because she was the one he
asked out on a date.  When she went with him, and they had a great time, he
asked her out again.

   Matilda, who had seen her sisters all go off on dates, some of them when
they were younger than she was at the time, didn't actually ask her mother
if she could start dating.  In fact, she didn't even tell her mother she
was going on a date.  That was another small pebble.

   Of course when Matilda got back from that first date, and regaled her
twin sister with the details, Betty was envious and, like many twins do,
talked her sister into letting HER go out with Chuck the second time.

   They shared everything, so Matilda didn't think a thing about it.

   They traded off every week, after that, for the "Friday night date", as
they termed it.

   As twins will do though, they didn't tell anybody about their little
prank, though they didn't think of it as a prank.  They just acted like
themselves at home which, compared with having their other five sisters
around, made things pretty quiet.

   Now it has to be said here that this didn't happen in a vacuum. 
Eventually, both Bobby and Mirriam realized that the twins were dating. 
But they didn't talk about the "boys" they were dating, and they only went
out every other week, which didn't suggest anything serious was in the
offing.  Basically, it just appeared to the observers that Matilda and
Betty were beginning to explore a little.

   ==================================

   What amazed Bobby was how quiet it had been with Suzie gone off to
college, and living in the dorm at K-State.  He didn't think about that,
until she came home from school for the holidays, and talked nearly
non-stop about how wonderful college was, and how much she was learning,
and how many places there were to get something to eat in a place called,
oddly enough "Aggieville".  You'd think a place called Aggieville would be
in Texas, but it was the downtown portion of Manhattan, Kansas, that was
right next to the K-State campus ...  whose arch rivals included teams from
Texas.

   Suzie loved college, loved learning, loved her professors, loved the
work study job she got in the animal research lab, and loved her roommate
who, like her, was a serious student and had no boyfriend.

   And she loved telling Bobby about all of it, because it was Bobby, in
her opinion, who was responsible for her being there.

   He took her to see the Chumley's, so she could bend THEIR ears about it.
He got a fairly dark look from his sister, when Felicity answered the door
with an obvious swelling of the baby in her belly that looked to have been
growing there for about four or five months.  Suzie had a pretty good idea
who had put that baby there, which was the reason she gave her brother a
dark look.

   That was forgotten, though, when Felicity took obvious delight in
hearing all about college, and Aggieville, and everything else.

   ==================================

   Bobby waited for Janet to call him.  He knew Rhonda well, and he knew
that she'd do more towards getting Janet to call him than he could do.  He
was right about that.  Rhonda hounded her friend.

   When she called him, he recommended a walk in the woods.

   "What?" she said.  "It's freezing outside!"

   "You can dress for that," said Bobby.  "It will make you feel more
secure."

   "You're making fun of me," she complained.

   "No, I'm not," he said.  "You and I both know you have trust issues with
men."

   "It's not THAT bad," she said.  "Not with you."

   "We'll walk first, and then I have some other ideas," he said.

   "What ideas?" she asked.

   "That's what we'll talk about on the walk," he said.

   She finally agreed and, when he picked her up, she had on a thick coat,
a long knitted scarf wrapped around her neck and head, and oversized
mittens that she complained made her look like a cartoon character.

   "I think you're gorgeous," said Bobby, grinning.  "All I can think about
is what you look like under all that stuff."

   She actually took that as a compliment, which surprised her.  He took
her to the place where Christy and he had hiked to where the old house was,
though he didn't plan on going there.  There was just a well defined trail
through the woods there, and places to rest.

   As they walked, Janet tried to figure out why his comment about thinking
about what she looked like under her coat had made her feel good.  She
decided that it was because, with her coat on, she was basically sexless
looking.  Somehow having a man say he was thinking about her body, when her
body wasn't on display, was different than having a man look at her, and
knowing what he was thinking.

   They hadn't done a lot of talking.  They just walked along at a
leisurely pace, while she thought about things.

   "What's it like?" she asked, suddenly.

   "What's what like?"

   "Being with different women," she explained.

   "That's the key, I think," he said seriously.  "They're all different.
They want to be treated differently, and they have different ideas, and
likes and dislikes.  It's just interesting being friends with different
women."

   "Is that the way you think about them?" she asked.  "As friends?"

   "Sure," he said.  "I like spending time with them, and they like
spending time with me.  Isn't that what friends do?"

   "Friends don't have sex with each other," she said.

   "Some don't," he agreed.  "Some do."

   "Why did you bring me out here?" she asked.  "Would you have brought any
of the others out here?"

   "Actually I did bring one of the others out here," he said.  "It was in
the summer, though, and we went a lot farther than I plan on taking you."

   They walked on for a minute.

   "You never answered the question," she said.

   "About why?" he asked.  She nodded, watching her breath plume in the
cold air.

   "What are you feeling right now, this instant?" asked Bobby.  "About me
...  about us?" he added.

   She thought about that.

   "Curiosity, more than anything else," she said.

   "Any fear there?" he asked.

   "No," she said promptly.

   "There you go," he said.

   "You did this because you knew I wouldn't be afraid of you ...  doing
this?" she asked.

   "I was right, wasn't I?"

   She didn't answer, but trudged on.  It didn't need an answer.

   "What are we going to do when we get back?" she asked.

   "I'd like to do something intimate, that doesn't cause you fear," he
said.

   "Something intimate," she repeated.  In her experience, the only
intimate things her husbands had done was climb on for a ride and go like
crazy.

   "Yeah, something where we won't touch each other."

   That piqued her curiosity.

   "Like what?" she asked.

   "I'd really like to see your breasts," he said calmly.

   She felt a stab of ...  something.  It wasn't fear, though, and that
made her wonder what it was.

   "Just look?" she asked.

   "And maybe play with myself," he said, just as calmly.

   "You mean ...  masturbate?" her voice went up an octave.

   "Yes," he said.  "I'd like to look at your breasts and masturbate." He
looked over at her.  "Does that make you think I'm perverted?"

   Both of her husbands had stroked themselves, while she was getting
undressed, or just before they mounted her.  They had never done it to
completion.  It had just looked like they were excited, and anxious to get
to what they called "the good parts".  The good parts had been pretty good
for her too.  Both men had been lusty lovers.  She didn't have an orgasm
every single time, but she had them, and they were better than the ones she
had these days, with her dildo.

   "What would I have to do?" she asked.

   "You wouldn't HAVE to do anything," said Bobby.  "It's just something I
thought we could do, that would be non-threatening, in an intimate kind of
way." They walked on a few steps.  "Don't get me wrong," he said.  "I want
to touch you, and feel you, and make love to you too.  We're just not ready
for that, yet."

   He said it like it was a foregone conclusion that it would happen ... 
some day.  That sent a stab of something through her too.  Her husbands had
ordered her to bed, on many occasions.  On some others, she had met them at
the door, or teased them, and gotten them going.  But in all cases, they
were in command, once things started, and it went at their pace.  Again she
thought about those words that neither man would have used voluntarily ...
"make love".

   Bobby spoke again, breaking the silence.  "Of course you could play with
yourself too, if you felt like it."

   Janet tried to imagine herself, sliding her dildo in and out of her
pussy, right in front of Bobby.  She was horrified at the thought.  The
only person in the world who knew she owned one was Rhonda.

   "I don't think so," she said.

   "That's fine," said Bobby.  "We just need to do something.  Just
something to let you know that intimacy between us isn't something you have
to be nervous about."

   "How long are we going to walk?" asked Janet, who would have been
astonished to find that her inner brain had accepted his plan.

   "Until you're ready to go back home and be intimate," he said.

   "That's not fair," she moaned.  "It's freezing out here."

   "Are you cold?" he asked.

   "Well ...  no ...  but it's still freezing."

   He laughed.  That made something move in her, because she heard the pure
joy of laughter in his voice.  He wasn't laughing AT her.  He was laughing
because she had said something comical.

   "Are you ready to turn around now?" he asked.

   She stopped, and looked at him, as he stopped and turned to face her.

   "You just want to look?" she asked.

   "Just look," he said.  "And touch myself.  I already know I'll want to
do that."

   She stood there, and felt the cold nipping at her toes.

   "We can go back now," she said.

   Chapter Three

   On the way back to the house, she got nervous again.  Somehow she had
agreed to do this weird thing he wanted to do.  She finally decided that
she had agreed BECAUSE it was so weird ...  so different than anything
either of her ex-husbands would have done.

   Then, when they got there, he asked her to fix them both something hot
to drink.  She had coffee, tea and apple cider.  He chose the cider, and
talked about other things, sitting at the kitchen table like any guest.  He
wasn't pushy and she found, to her surprise, that SHE had the urge to get
on with things.

   "Are you ready?" she asked, suddenly.

   "I've been ready since we got back," he said.

   "Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

   "I was waiting for you to be ready," he said.

   "Where should we do this?" she asked.

   "I think you should decide that," he answered.

   Janet wasn't used to a man being so ...  malleable!  She wasn't used to
making decisions like this.  Not with a man present, and sex on the table.
Still, he just sat there, looking handsome.  She made herself think.  It
was daytime.  The bedroom seemed wrong ...  too intimate.  There were
drapes in the living room.  She could close them.  But that room was so
big. It wouldn't seem intimate at all.  She thought about what was going to
happen.  She was going to expose herself to him ...  and he would do the
same, for all intents and purposes.  That didn't strike her as being all
that intimate, really.

   "The living room," she said, making a decision.

   "Fine," he said.

   He got up and went there, not looking back to see if she was following
or not.  As she did follow him, she saw him unbuckle his belt, and let the
ends hang.  He didn't do any more, though, and sat down in an arm chair.

   She closed the drapes and watched as he turned on a floor lamp beside
his chair.

   Oddly, Janet suddenly felt calm.  She had done something like this for
husband number two, standing in front of him, and teasing him by showing
him things.  She knew how to unbutton her shirt, slowly, and let it hang
open.  She knew how to tease him.  So she did the same thing with Bobby.  -
repetitive, may need reworking

   "It's awfully hot in here," she said, fanning her face with her hand. 
"I must have the heater set too high."

   She unbuttoned three buttons, and pulled at the shirt, to suck air in
and blow it out.

   "Don't you think it's hot?" she asked.

   Bobby sat, and just looked at her.

   "Does seem kind of warm," he said.

   She undid the rest of the buttons, and let the shirt hang, exposing her
white bra.

   "You look good," he said, his voice soft.

   "Really?" she asked, fishing for a compliment.

   "You'd look a lot better without that shirt," he said.  "And you'd be
cooler too."

   "You think so?" she asked, pulling the shirt apart.  She let it slide
down her arms, and felt nervous.

   "Yeah," he said.  "You definitely look better that way."

   "I suppose you think I'd be cooler with this bra off too," she said,
teasing.

   "I do," he said.

   She looked at his lap.  There was a nice bulge there.  When he saw her
eyes go there, he moved his hand, and rubbed that bulge.

   "You're making me hard," he said.

   "Already?"

   "You're a good looking woman, Janet," he said.

   With him just sitting there, she felt good about that comment.

   "It's been a long time since any man has seen my breasts," she said.

   "I feel very lucky," said Bobby.

   "They sag a little," she said.

   "Let me see," he suggested.

   She reached behind her and flipped the catch loose, but held the bra
over her breasts with her other arm.

   "This is so strange," she moaned.

   "I just want to see them," said Bobby softly.  "I've thought about them
a lot, but I don't know what they really look like."

   "You've thought about them ...  before?" she asked.

   "Ever since I've known you," he said.

   "You're kidding," she said, truly surprised.

   "Not at all," he said.  "When I first heard about you, I thought it was
you I was going to be hired for ...  not Rhonda.  When I saw you, I decided
I was going to like it."

   "I never knew that," she sighed.

   "I didn't think you wanted to know that," he said.

   She closed her eyes, and let the bra drop down her arms, catching it in
both hands.  She stood stiff.

   "They're different than I thought they'd be," he said very softly. 
"Even better."

   "Ohhhh," she moaned.

   "I love the way they droop a little bit," said Bobby.  "It makes the
nipples look like eyes, looking down."

   Her eyes popped open.  Nobody had ever told her what her breasts looked
like.  Was he serious?  She looked down.

   "Really?" she asked.

   "I'm not going to tell you what they make me want to do," he said.  "I
promised I'd only look."

   "What about ...?" She looked at his lap again.

   "Can I?" he asked.  "I want to, but not if it's going to make you
nervous."

   "Yes," she almost whispered.  "Go ahead."

   He stood, which made her jump, but all he did was unbutton and unzip his
pants.  He bent over, and she saw the legs bunch up as he shoved them down.
When he stood again, she sucked in air.  Like so many other women, all
she'd ever seen was a circumcised cock.  His looked so different that she
didn't, at first, think of it as a penis.  It looked more like a thick,
long finger, with baggy skin on it.

   Then he sat down again, leaned back, gripped it, and began stroking.

   "Ahhhhhhh." The sound came from his mouth, and it sounded like he was
very pleased.  It sounded like someone who has just taken a drink of good
whiskey, and is appreciating the taste.

   "I can't believe you're doing that," she gasped.

   "I said I wanted to," he said, his voice deep.  "You said I could."

   "Yes, but ...  I didn't think you really would," she said weakly.

   "Does it bother you?"

   "No," she said.  "But this is just so weird!"

   "Are you afraid?" he asked.

   She stopped, and took inventory.  "No!" she said.

   "Mission accomplished," he panted, his hand moving faster now. 
"Almost."

   She had no idea what he'd do when he came.  She'd never seen anything
like this before.  She was fascinated, in one sense, because while all
girls knew boys did this, she'd never SEEN one doing it.

   "It looks like you're hurting yourself!" she gasped.

   "Oh no," he panted.  "Could you come just a little closer?"

   She stepped toward him, still five or six feet away.

   "They're so gorgeous," he panted.  "I want to suck them." His face
twisted.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I said I wouldn't do that."

   Janet didn't cringe at all.  That was because she was astonished that a
man had apologized to her, about having a sexual desire.  No man had ever
done that.  She could see that desire in his eyes ...  that much was
normal. She was used to that.  But for him to be sorry for breaking his own
self-imposed rule ...  that was something very interesting, and exciting in
a way.

   "I'll forgive you this time," she said suddenly, flush with the new and
exciting concept of being in control of a sexual situation.

   "I couldn't help it," he said, as his hand flashed back and forth.

   She was fascinated at the appearance of his penis, because the tip
protruding from his hand was, alternately, a fat, wrinkled mass of loose
skin, and then, suddenly, a shiny purple knob.  It looked almost like magic
to her.

   "I want to cum," he huffed.  "Would that be all right?"

   She didn't answer him ...  didn't know how to answer him.  This was all
too new to her, and she couldn't think.

   "Please?" he moaned.

   "Yes ...  OK," she yipped, hearing what sounded like pain in his voice.

   She did step back when a streak of white shot out of the tip of his
penis, going two feet into the air.  She was astonished at the power of it
...  how far it went ...  how much it looked like.  Then, before she could
process that, it happened again, and then still again.  Each long string of
white leapt a little less far into the air, and she could tell that the
volume was diminishing, but it overwhelmed her to realize that that's what
these things did inside a woman.  Her husbands had cum in her dozens of
times, but she hadn't realized just how powerful it was, up inside her ...
how much there was.  She had felt them, when they did it, but that memory
didn't mesh with what she was seeing now.

   Then, just like that, his hand dropped away from the penis that had so
fascinated her, leaving it lying, only half hard, now, and looking tired,
somehow.

   "I made a mess," he panted.  "If you get me a washcloth, I'll clean it
up."

   Janet's eyes went to the floor, where there were tangled lines of cum,
looking very white against the dark, polished hard wood.

   "OK," she sighed, almost disappointed that it was over.

   She didn't even remember she was topless until she was getting the
washcloth wet.  There wasn't anything she could do about it.  Her shirt was
in the other room ...  with him.  She had a sudden concern that he'd be
standing up.  He hadn't looked so imposing sitting there.  She almost
sighed with relief when she found him still sitting, with his pants still
around his calves, his penis soft now.

   He stood when she came into the room, and bent to pull up his pants. 
Then, instead of reaching for the washcloth, he picked up her blouse and
handed it to her, trading it for the washcloth.

   "You are a beautiful woman," he said, standing only inches away from
her. "I could get used to seeing you this way."

   She blushed, realizing that this man had completed a sexual act, while
looking at her ...  thinking about her.  She could imagine what he wanted
to do.  She knew it went far beyond putting his lips on her breasts.  She
felt a growl in her stomach, as if she was hungry.

   She slipped the shirt on; while he got to his hands and knees and wiped
up his spend.  Something inside her was enjoying this ...  this man who
asked to do things, instead of demanding them ...  this man who would get
on his hands and knees and clean up, instead of leaving it for her ... 
this man whose eyes were so hot as they stared at her breasts.

   She left the shirt unbuttoned, waiting for him to stand up.  She wanted
to see his eyes looking at her again.

   =================================

   Janet knew something was different when Bobby stood up, looked at her
breasts, smiled, and then said he had to go.  She knew it was different
because, for the first time since she'd known him, she didn't want him to
go.

   "Thank you," he said.  "I'd like to see you again."

   "OK," she said, somewhat meekly.  She didn't like the sound of her
voice.

   "I think we made progress today," he said.  "Maybe we can make more
progress another time."

   "Maybe," she said, trying to make her voice sound more firm.

   "It will all be up to you," he said.  "It will always be up to you."

   "I'm not used to that," she admitted.

   "We can work on that, next time," he said.

   She knew something was different after he left too.  She knew it when
she realized she was as horny as she'd ever been.  She thought it was a
little odd that it hit her after he left, but ignored that.  Instead, she
went to bed with her dildo.

   She had to use it three times before she could get to sleep.

   ===================================

   Poor Chuck had no clue what was going on as the twins traded off dates
with him, until he got to the point where they let him kiss them good
night.

   Then he could tell.

   They might look exactly alike, and, because they were sharing so much
information they might remember what each other's past dates were like, but
they kissed him differently.

   It turned out to be Betty that he confronted about it.  She caved and
confessed everything, at which point Chuck, who thought it was pretty weird
at first, realized that he had a pretty good thing going.  So he swore
Betty to secrecy, and played his own game.

   Turnabout is, after all, fair play.

   Matilda found out about that game, when he said "I just have to feel
them again, baby," and slid his hand inside her sweater and then into her
bra one night.  The first thing she thought of was that Betty hadn't told
her THIS had happened, but she'd always wondered what this would feel like,
and just kissed him harder.  When he ended up sucking them too, telling her
how happy she was making him to let him do this for the very first time,
Matilda decided to pay her sister back by not telling her about that.

   Divide and conquer.  It's been a successful tactic for thousands of
years.

   Betty and Matilda, being the youngest in the family, and hanging
together so much, had been somewhat insulated from their big brother's ...
activities.  It wasn't that the clues weren't there for them, and it wasn't
because they were dim-witted.  They just didn't pay that much attention to
what was going on around them.  They had roomed with Suzie, for most of
their lives, until a room became available for her when Flo got married to
Ted.  Then, when Linda got married too, they could have had separate rooms,
but chose to keep living together.  They were as close as twins can be.  To
be honest about it, they stayed in a world of their own, for the most part.

   At the same time, they were aware of their sisters and brother.  Bobby
had done dozens of things for them, such as customizing their bikes, when
they were younger, and building them a tree house retreat of their very
own, in one of the big old elm trees not far from the house.  He had
wrestled with them and babysat them.  He had cooked them dinner and taken
them to activities.  They had snuggled next to him on cold winter nights,
watching TV.  And, being a brother, instead of a sister, he had treated
them not as the youngest, and therefore the least privileged - but as just
his sisters, who happened to be twins, equal with all the rest.  He was
always there for them when it came to tough homework, and he didn't make
them do all the chores by themselves, helping instead.  When they had
started going to school dances, he critiqued their choice of apparel, and
made suggestions about how to handle boys.

   In short, they loved him.  He was a special man in their lives.

   At the same time, they ignored him more than any of his other sisters
did, with the possible exception of Suzie, who was in an academic world of
her own, both before and after she went to college.

   And, to be frank, they ignored much of what their older sisters did too,
because they were, to a large extent, discriminated against by those
sisters ...  at least in their own opinion.

   One thing they didn't ignore was their nieces and nephews.  They were
drafted into babysitting duty, occasionally, but didn't care, because they
were fascinated with the tiny human beings they were entrusted with.  The
only thing that was odd about that was that they never noticed the odd
resemblance of those babies to their brother.

   It was in fact babysitting for Jordan, now two years old, and Randall,
who was almost five months old, that gave the twins their first chance to
examine that strange and wonderful thing called a penis.  Diaper changes
were an adventure, especially with Randall, because you never knew when
that thing would suddenly erupt.  Jordan was in the midst of being potty
trained, which required manipulating his little penis for him, to aim it
into the toilet, and hope that it would go off that way.  It was inevitable
that, sooner or later, one of the boys would have an erection, and the
first time that happened was cause for much contemplation and discussion
between the girls.

   Now that Chuck had upped the ante, so to speak, and was fooling the
girls into letting him take more and more liberties with their fresh,
young, inexperienced bodies, the comparison between Jordan's cute stiffy
and what Chuck pressed against the front of their jeans, was inevitable
too.

   Chuck was able to make his turnabout game last for almost a month,
before the jig was up.  What led to that was his attempt to slide his hand
into Matilda's pants.  He'd gotten her topless, and she'd wiggled and
sighed as he sucked her tender, stiff nipples.  He still wasn't sure which
one he was mauling, but he didn't care, at this point.  He knew they kissed
differently, and was beginning to notice other small differences in their
mannerisms, particularly when they got really turned on.

   It was for that reason that he wanted to get his hands in their pants.
He was pretty sure their orgasms would be different too.

   It wasn't all in the name of scientific observation, of course.  Chuck
Cunningham wanted to get his rocks off, and he wanted to do it in both of
the Dalton twins.

   The girls, however, had precluded his success.  Even though they had
been withholding information from each other for weeks, which led to the
sudden acceleration ...  and success ...  of Chuck's advances, there was
something he didn't know, and it unmasked him.

   "You can't do that," yipped Matilda, as his fingers wormed their way
into the waistband of her jeans.

   "Oh, come on," moaned Chuck.  "You let me last time."

   She pulled back, staring at him, and her hand went to his wrist and
pulled hard.

   "Take me home!" she demanded.

   "Don't be like that, Matty," he said, using the pet name he had invented
for her.  That pet name had been laughed at between the girls.

   "Take me home, Chuck!" she said, her voice ominous.

   He knew something had happened.  He just didn't know what.  That was
understandable, because he had no clue that the twins, when they were still
fifteen, had made a pact.  That was when they had discovered the joy of
rubbing between their legs.  They had talked about it, and tried it the
first time together.  They had been very pleased with the results, and had
often done it together since then.

   Like a lot of young girls, they didn't believe that anybody else
actually did that.  They heard other girls talk about how this or that boy
had tried to "get his hand in my panties".  All of those girls swore up and
down they hadn't let the boy do that.  Neither twin could imagine letting a
boy touch them like that.  It was too weird.  But they liked touching
themselves.  It was their secret and it was special.  It was SO special, in
fact, that they made a pact that neither of them would let any boy touch
them between the legs, until both girls were ready to let a boy do that ...
which both girls were sure would be ...  never.

   It was that pact that rang alarm bells in Matilda's mind.  It wasn't
that she wasn't ready to be touched there ...  at least where Chuck was
involved.  She loved making out with him.  But she knew, somehow, that
Betty would not have let him do that, when she was out with him the
previous week.  Betty might have let him touch her titties, but she
wouldn't let him touch her there.  Not without talking about it first, and
certainly not and then keep quiet about it.

   She confirmed that as soon as Chuck, still pleading, let her out at the
house, and she went inside to confront her sister.

   That was also when they figured out they had been played against each
other.

   There was anger, at first, as the two realized that the other had
withheld information.  Then there was the realization that they should have
known, because they had actually TALKED about how nice it was to feel his
hands and lips on their breasts.  At the time, each had thought she had
pulled something over on her sister.  It never occurred to either of them
that they hadn't talked about letting him do those things in advance, like
they had in the beginning.

   Then the anger turned toward Chuck, but only momentarily.  In the first
place, they both liked him.  Neither wanted to stop seeing him.  In the
second place, they were honest enough with themselves to realize that they
had both played a role in letting Chuck pull the wool up off of their
breasts, so to speak.  At the same time, though, they couldn't let him just
get away with fooling them.

   The solution to the problem was both unorthodox and unexpected.  But
that wouldn't take place for another week.

   Chapter Four

   Janet's third session with Bobby hadn't been arranged yet.  Rhonda had
let off a little, once Janet had seen him again, but was still miffed that
Janet didn't want to talk about what had happened.  What Janet found so
fascinating was that she thought about Bobby a lot.  And the way she
thought about him had changed too.

   In the past, she had had very brief fantasies about him, based mostly on
things Rhonda had said.  Now, though, she had some concrete experience of
her own, and that played through her mind more and more.  The problem was
that she couldn't fit herself into that fantasy.e She could visualize him
with Rhonda, or at least with a woman who looked a little like Rhonda.  But
putting herself under him, in the fantasy, still made her feel queasy and
uncomfortable.  She had no trouble, though, remembering the look of him as
he sat there and masturbated, looking at her naked breasts ...  which he
thought were beautiful.

   She was thinking about that, in fact, when a deep male voice said "Hi,"
from behind her, where she was stacking bars of Irish Spring soap on a
shelf at the IGA.

   She felt a flutter in her belly as she recognized that voice, and turned
to look at the man she had just been thinking about.  Her eyes dipped to
his crotch, and then bounced back up as she realized what she was doing.

   "Hi," she said, feeling a little light headed.

   "What are you doing after work, tonight?" he asked.

   "Nothing," she said.  The flutters intensified, and she almost wished
she could say she DID have something planned.

   "I'd like to come over," he suggested.

   "You would?" she asked, unable to think of any other response.

   "Oh yeah," he sighed.  "I've been thinking about last time a lot."

   "Me too," she said, and then wished she hadn't.

   "That's good," he said.  "I have some ideas for tonight."

   "What kind of ideas?" she asked, as nervousness began to replace the
flutter in her stomach.

   "Ideas that will make you feel completely in charge," he said.

   She still didn't know what to say.  This time she just kept quiet.  He
did too, though, waiting for some kind of response.  The discomfort of the
moment of silence between them was broken by a woman who wanted to ask
Janet where the molasses was kept.  When she turned back around, Bobby was
gone.

   Her mind was a riot of questions, fears, and hopes, for the rest of the
three hours she had left on her shift.  It didn't get any better as she
drove into her driveway and saw him sitting on her porch.  He had his tool
bag sitting beside him.

   "You're already here," she said, needlessly, as she walked up to him.

   "I wanted us to have plenty of time," he said.

   "Oh," she said.  Not knowing what was going to happen made her stomach
lurch.

   Again, though, he didn't do what she expected.  When they got inside, he
suggested she go change clothes ...  take a shower if she wanted to, while
he prepared something for them to eat.  He'd even brought things to
prepare, in a plastic sack inside his tool bag.  He moved around in the
kitchen, acting completely normal, while she stood and tried to decide if
she had the courage to go in her bathroom and take a shower, with him in
the house.

   It was her desire to BE in control, at least of herself, that moved her
out of the kitchen, and to her bedroom.  She took off her shoes and sat on
the bed, just looking at the door for a few minutes.  The knob didn't turn.
He didn't come in.  Even after she was in the bathroom, with the water
warming up, she couldn't help but open the door, to see if he'd come in
once the water was on.  But he wasn't there.

   As she stood under the water ...  and he didn't come in ...  she felt
better and better.  She marveled at the fact that he was, apparently, as
trustworthy as he wanted her to believe he was.  She was alone in her house
with him.  He had been hired to have sex with her.  She was naked, and in
the shower, and yet, as he had promised, nothing was happening that she
hadn't approved in advance.

   She finally let the hot water wash the stress out of her body, and then
stood with her head under the streams of water, imagining that her mistrust
of him was being washed out too.

   She felt so good when she got out that she put on only her thick
terrycloth robe.  She combed her hair straight down and left it damp. 
She'd see what he thought of her this way, without any makeup, and with wet
hair.

   As soon as she opened the door her nose was assailed by wonderful
smells. When she got to the kitchen he was tossing a salad.

   "Smells good," she said.  "What is it?"

   "Lasagna," he said.  "And garlic bread."

   "You couldn't possibly have made that while I was taking a shower!" she
said, almost her normal self.

   "I cheated," he said.  "I made it at home.  I'm just warming it up in
the oven."

   "You made lasagna?" she asked, amazed.

   "Yes," he said.  "I hope you like Lasagna.  I like it.  I didn't know
what kind of food you liked."

   "I love lasagna," she said.

   "Excellent," he said.

   They ate the salad first, and he didn't take the lasagna out of the oven
until that was done.  He served it piping hot - too hot to eat - and they
munched on bread while it cooled.

   "This is good!" she mumbled, around her first mouthful of still hot
lasagna.

   "Thank you," he said, grinning.  "Mamma taught me how to make it."

   When they were done, Janet felt content ...  full ...  relaxed.  He
hadn't said anything about how she was dressed, or her hair.  He had just
accepted her as she appeared.

   His change of pace caught her by surprise.

   "What are you wearing under that robe?" he asked, his voice casual.

   She looked at him for long seconds.  "Nothing," she said, her voice low
and soft.

   "Mmmm, I like that," he said.

   She sat.  The flutters were back.  But she didn't feel nervous.

   "Would you let me comb and dry your hair?" he asked.

   "Why?" the question was out before she even though about it.

   "I like combing my sisters' hair," he said, in an offhand manner.  "For
what I hope we're going to do tonight, I think you'll want it dry."

   "What are we going to do?" she asked, the nervousness clear in her
voice.

   "You're going to be completely in control of what happens," he said.  "I
won't be able to do anything, unless you let me."

   "How?" she asked.  He could do anything he wanted.  He was bigger and
stronger.  Men had always been bigger and stronger.

   "I'm going to be tied up," he said.

   She blinked.

   "What?" She couldn't believe what he'd just said.

   "I want you to tie me to the bed," he said.  "I won't be able to move,
unless you untie me."

   "That's ridiculous!" she said.  That was perverted!  Normal people
didn't go around tying each other up during sex!

   "Maybe," he said, agreeably.  "But I want you to do it."

   "No." She shook her head.  "That's ...  that's abnormal."

   "I'm not going to argue with you about that," he said.  "I've never been
tied up before.  I tied up a woman once, but I've never been tied up
myself. I just think that if I were restrained, in that way, you'd feel
like you could relax.  That's all."

   "You tied up a woman?" Janet asked, almost fearfully.

   "She wanted me to make love to her," said Bobby.  "But she didn't want
to LET me make love to her." He smiled thinly.  "I just gave her an excuse
to let things happen.  I had it rigged so she could get out whenever she
wanted to.  She did, eventually, and we never did that again."

   "That's just so weird," said Janet.

   "I only want you to feel like you're safe, and that nothing can happen
unless you want it to happen," he said.  "I just thought this might be a
way for you to feel that way."

   "I don't know," said Janet, doubtfully.

   "Will you at least give it a try?" he asked.  "If it isn't working,
we'll chalk it up to experience, and try something else."

   ===============================

   The human mind is a complicated thing, and the thoughts that are
generated in it aren't always logical, or even explainable.  That's how
Janet would have characterized what was going on as she found herself in
her bedroom with Bobby Dalton, who took thick, soft ropes out of his tool
bag.

   He tossed them negligently on the bed, and seated her at her vanity. 
Then he used her blow dryer, and a brush.  She sat, watching him look at
her hair and stroke it over and over, until she felt so relaxed that she
felt like she could take a nap.  The tug and sweep of the brush was
mesmerizing, and his hands on her hair, when he stopped using the blow
dryer, were soft and gentle.

   Then, he was pulling her up, and she found herself back in the strange
world he had created for them, where she was going to tie this man to her
bed.

   She was in the process of trying to convince herself that the only
reason she was doing this was because he said he'd have to be naked, when
she tied him to her bed.  The prospect of seeing all of him was something
she had thought about many times.  She loved looking at a well muscled man,
and Bobby was that, if nothing else.

   Then, when he bared his chest, folding his shirt neatly and putting it
on her vanity stool, she found herself holding her breath.  It was even
better than she'd imagined.  He was gorgeous!  His pants and underwear
followed, and he took off his socks at the same time.

   He stood there ...  gorgeous and naked ...  in her bedroom ...  holding
those ropes.

   When he showed her how to tie a slip knot, she wanted to howl with the
ridiculousness of it all.  A naked man was standing in her bedroom,
teaching her how to tie him up.  He didn't want knots that he could get out
of.  He made sure she understood that.  She watched her own fingers, in
complete disbelief, as they tied those knots, and pulled them tight - but
not too tight - around his wrists.

   She watched in disbelief as he lay on her bed, and put his arms up, so
she could tie the other ends of the ropes to her headboard.  She almost
giggled hysterically as he corrected the knot she tied there.

   "Now the ankles," he said, his voice strong.

   She looked at his groin.  Maybe it was the fact that he was soft that
calmed her down, somehow.  Maybe it was sinking in that he was actually
going to let her restrain him like this.  She was suddenly quite sure he
wasn't a pervert, because a pervert would have been excited about this ...
would BE hard ...  and this man wasn't.

   Finally it was done, and she was standing there, looking at the naked
man tied to her bed.  She had no idea what to do now.

   So she just looked at him.  She went to the foot of the bed and stared.
He really was helpless.  She knew that.  He could probably tear her
headboard apart like it was cardboard, but something in her said he
wouldn't do that.  Not unless something was wrong.

   As she stared at the muscles on his chest, and arms, he lay there, just
looking back at her.  He was still soft.

   "How do you feel right now?" he asked.

   "I don't know," she said.  "Strange ...  weird, kind of."

   "Do you feel safe?" he asked.

   "Perfectly," she answered instantly.

   "Do you feel safe enough to take your robe off?" he asked.  His voice
was clearly hopeful, almost boyish in its hopefulness.

   She cocked her head, looking at this strange man.  That he would let
himself end up like this ...  it bespoke either some strange weakness ...
or strength of a kind she hadn't even imagined a man could have.

   She discarded the "weak" theory immediately.  This was no weak man. 
That meant he was strong ...  so strong that he would let her be even
stronger ...  more powerful.  For the first time, she really believed all
the things he'd said.  He really DID want her to feel relaxed.  He really
DID want her to understand that he was no threat to her.  He really WOULD
let her be in control.

   It flashed in her mind like a brilliant light.  This man cared about
her.

   She didn't try to figure out WHY he cared.  It was the fact THAT he
cared that took center stage in her mind.

   Suddenly, she did feel calm ...  in control.

   "Do you want me to take my robe off?" she asked.

   "Desperately," he admitted.

   "You want to have sex with me, don't you?" she asked.

   "Desperately," he admitted again.

   "Like this?" she asked, pointing at a rope-tied ankle.

   "If it has to be this way ...  yes," he said.

   "I've never done this," she said.

   "I know.  Neither have I."

   Her hands went to the knot on the belt of her robe.  She undid it, and
let it fall.  The robe only opened an inch or two.  She walked to the side
of the bed, close enough that, if he wasn't restrained, he could reach out
and touch her.

   But he couldn't reach out and touch her.

   "Is this what you want to see?" she asked, spreading the robe apart.

   His eyes raked over her body.  She felt a thrill of excitement.  He
obviously wanted to see her.  She'd worked hard to maintain a fit body. 
She'd often wondered why she bothered; because, deep down inside, she knew
she'd never let another man in.  Now she was glad she had kept herself fit.

   "I want to do more than just see it," he said.

   She looked from his face to his groin.  The limp thing moved, even as
she stared at it.

   "That's beginning to be obvious," she said.

   "I'm getting hard," he said, needlessly.

   "I know," she said.

   "It's for you," he said.

   "Because of me," she corrected.

   "No ...  for you."

   She looked back at his face, one eyebrow raised.

   "I'd like it very much if you touched it," he said.

   Somehow, it was easier to let the robe slide down off her shoulders and
arms, than close it.  She felt another thrill as she stood, equally naked.
He licked his lips.  She looked at his penis.  It was hard, now, standing
up and leaning drunkenly to one side, and up a little.

   She could play with that interesting thing ...  if she wanted to.  He
wouldn't be able to do anything about it.  She could touch it ...  or not.

   She decided she wanted to touch it.

   ==================================

   She was fascinated.  Her fingertips drifted over the heavy sack that
held his balls.  She'd never had the time ...  or inclination, really ...
to just look at a man's balls.  There had always been too much hurry going
on ...  too much "Let's get on with the good stuff!"

   She marveled at the tiny, soft hairs that sprouted from that sack.  She
pushed a finger at the bag, and saw something round move inside it.  She
knew how sensitive that little round thing was, so when she gripped it,
through the skin of the sack, she was gentle.  It was slippery in there. 
That sack was heavy ...  full.

   He hadn't said a word.  He just lay there and let her explore.  His
penis was next.  It looked so odd to her, with its loose covering of skin,
and the shiny part peeking out, with its one Cyclops eye.  It bobbed when
she pushed at it, and then returned to its former position, like a drunken
soldier, trying to stand at attention, and not quite making it fully
upright.

   Very carefully she reached, to grip it.  It was hot.  She didn't
remember her ex-husbands' feeling hot like that.  That loose skin moved,
and she pushed with her hand, uncovering the knob.  Her hand ran into his
body, and she had to get another grip, to make that loose skin go all the
way down.  Now it looked like the ones she had seen before.

   She let go, and watched the skin creep back upwards, all by itself.  It
caught at the back of the knob, and she teased it with her fingertips,
until it rolled over the crown, and seemed to ooze back toward the tip. 
She giggled as she thought of the movie "The Blob", which she had seen when
she was only thirteen, and which had scared her to death.  She remembered
hiding behind the seat in front of her, feeling like she was five, instead
of the woman she had wanted to think of herself as.

   This didn't scare her, though.  This was warm and friendly.  She did it
again, watching curiously as, this time, the skin made it over the crown by
itself.  It didn't go quite so far back up towards the tip, though.  She
gripped it again, and realized it was harder than the first time she'd done
that.

   "It's getting harder," she whispered.

   "It likes you," said Bobby, almost startling her.  "It likes what you're
doing to it."

   "I'm just playing with it," she said.

   "It likes being played with," he responded.

   She stroked it three times, experimentally.  It was so easy to do.  Her
hand had seemed to drag on the skin of her ex-husbands, who didn't have all
that loose skin to play with.  They hadn't wanted her to play with their
penises, either.  They had wanted to fuck her, spurt in her, and then go
drink a beer.

   She saw a clear drop of something well up out of the little eye.

   "If I jerk it, will you cum?" she asked.

   "I'd prefer you didn't jerk it, exactly," he said, smiling.  "Stroke
it."

   Her hand slid up and down, experimenting.

   "Like this?"

   "Oh yeah," he sighed.

   She could hear the pleasure in his sigh.  He was tied up ...  but still
experiencing pleasure!

   "I've never done this either," she said, watching her hand slide.  It
felt wonderful in her hand.  She realized, suddenly, that she was wet.  If
he wasn't here, it would be time to gt her dildo out.

   "How do I get it to spurt?" she asked, frowning.

   "Keep doing that," he said.  "You'll have to go a little faster."

   She remembered him flailing at his prick, while he watched her.  She
wasn't sure she could do that.  It looked like it had hurt.  She tried
going faster, though, and he moaned again.

   "Feels good," he sighed.  "You smell good too."

   She wondered what he meant.  She'd taken a shower, but she hadn't put on
any perfume.  It hadn't even occurred to her to do that.  It wasn't until
she felt a drip of wet run down the inside of her thigh that she realized
that was what he was referring to.  He smelled her excitement.

   She moved her hand up and down.  She was beginning to get tired.  This
was hard work!

   Then, without warning, his hips bucked, and it was spurting.  It went
everywhere as she kept stroking, because her moving hand moved the tip. 
One spurt went straight up, and fell straight back down.  Another went on
his chest, and another went partly on his left thigh, and on the bed.  She
kept stroking until only little oozes of white crept out of the tip, and
drooled down onto her hand.

   She thought about how both of her husbands had made her suck them,
holding her head with strong hands, until they spurted in her mouth.  She
hadn't much cared for that.  She gagged when they forced themselves too
deep in her mouth.  But the taste hadn't been so bad.  She wondered if
Bobby's taste was the same, and lifted her hand to lick, tentatively, at
his cum.

   He tasted very different, if her memory was correct.  Her husbands' had
had an acrid quality to it, overlaid by musk.  Bobby's had the musky smell,
but his semen was more salty than acrid.  She could get a hint of sweet
too, which was very different.

   He wasn't quite panting ...  more breathing very deeply.

   "Thanks," he said.  "That felt really good."

   "You're welcome," she said, automatically licking at her hand.

   "Can I do something for you now?" he asked.

   "Like what?" she asked.

   "I'd love to taste you," he said.

   This was something neither of her ex-husbands had ever done.  Both
wanted their pricks in her mouth, but refused to touch her with their
mouths, saying it was "nasty".  Again, her mind had a hard time adjusting
to the fact that this man was different than they were.

   "I don't want to untie you ...  yet," she said.

   "You don't have to untie me," he said.

   "But you can't ...  do that, all tied up."

   "Sure I can," he said.  "Just climb up on the bed."

   =============================

   Again, Janet found herself doing something that she just couldn't
believe she was doing.  She was standing on top of her bed, with a foot on
either side of his head.  She was holding onto the headboard, to keep her
balance, as she slowly squatted.

   She stopped when she felt his breath on her pussy, and looked down.

   It was ludicrous.  It was ridiculous.  Her pussy was poised right above
his face, and his mouth was open!  She had never felt as nasty in her whole
life as she did right this instant.

   But the roiling in her loins told her to go ahead ...  to disregard the
fact that this was a perverted, nasty, ridiculous situation.  As she
watched, her pussy actually dripped, and that drop fell on his lower lip.
She watched, astonished as his tongue lapped at his lower lip, and he
lifted his head, trying to reach her.

   It was the pain in her thighs, from holding herself in that crouched
position, that resulted in her pussy lowering some more, until she felt
that tongue.

   Janet Griswold had another epiphany, as his face took the weight her
thighs could no longer support.  The minute his mouth sucked at her sex,
and his tongue probed her slippery pussy mouth, she realized that she had
been denied something fantastic, and that she had been denied this
fantastic thing her whole life.

   She couldn't believe how wonderful it felt.  Her screaming thighs were
forgotten, and her arms pulled as she rubbed her pussy all over his face.

   "Ohhhh fuck this feels good," she moaned, her abdomen rippling as she
used those muscles to rub with.  He made a strangled, wet noise, and the
ropes on his arms pulled at the headboard, which jerked under her hands.

   She realized she was suffocating him and scooted clear down.  She felt
an electric jolt as her clit scraped over his chin.

   "I'm sorry!" she yipped, as he sucked air.

   "Just try not to cover my nose," he gasped.

   "I should untie you," she said, suddenly aware that the thought of his
hands free didn't scare her so much anymore.

   "Later," he said.  "I want you to have an orgasm first.  Just don't
cover my nose, OK?"

   "You're sure?" she asked.

   "You taste just as good as I thought you would," he said, dipping his
chin down to lick at her pussy.

   "You're insane," she said, automatically tipping her pussy forward, so
he could reach it with that tongue.

   "Are you having fun?" he asked.

   She stared down at him.

   "Yes, I am," she said, meaning it.

   "Then let me lick that beautiful pussy of yours," he said.

   ==================================

   She did.  She moved back up, and the gorgeous, wonderful sensations
started again.  She found it was impossible not to rub, because it felt so
good, and she found it was impossible for her to keep from pushing her wet
pussy into his nose.  She knew, instinctively, that it might cause him
distress, because she was pushing hard, and she could hear him snatching
lungfuls of air when he could get them.  Rather than stop, she moved her
fingers to the knots on the headboard, and released them both.  His hands
went to her thighs then, and he moved her, when she threatened to close off
his air supply.

   She had an orgasm that left her weak, and only her hands on the
headboard kept her upright.  She thought to get up, but his hands held her
there as he continued to lap and suck and feast on her pussy.

   She had another orgasm, and it became clear he was going to hold her
there until she had a third.

   "Stop," she moaned.  "I'm going to fall off the bed."

   He pushed at her hips, and she moved down until she was sitting on his
stomach.  His hands lay on her thighs, still trailing the ropes that no
longer restrained him.

   "Now, those beautiful nipples," he said.  His hands moved to her waist
and tugged.

   She leaned forward; amazed that she could hold herself up with her hands
on the bed by his head.  Her heavy breasts fell on his face, and she felt
zips of pleasure as he began to fondle her breasts with his hands, and suck
at the nipples.  No man had made love to her like this, or for so long. 
The strangeness of it all made it seem like she was in a dream ...  like
this wasn't real life.  It felt so good to feel this, and not be worried.

   She realized that she wasn't worried.  His hands had been free for ten
minutes, and all he had done was make her feel good.  That made her feel
even better.

   He pushed her up, and she sat upright.  His hands were back on her
thighs.  She scooted back a little, and ran into something hard.

   "You're hard again," she said softly.

   "Yes, I am."

   "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

   "What do YOU want to do?" he asked in return.

   She twisted around, trying to see, but his prick was right behind her,
and she couldn't see it.

   "Tie me up again," he suggested.

   "No," she said, looking at the ropes.  "It's not right."

   "I really want to put it in you right now," he said.  He squeezed her
thighs, just to remind her that his hands were free.

   She thought about that.  It had been so long.  Her dildo had served her
well, but it wasn't real ...  or warm.

   "Can I do that ...  like this?" she asked.  "On top?" That was yet again
something she'd never done with her husbands.

   "Of course," he said.  "But you should tie me again.  It's really hard
for me not to touch you, and if you do that, I'll want to touch you even
more."

   "This is crazy," she insisted.  "I can't believe I'm doing this."

   "You don't have to do anything," he said.  "We can stop right now, if
that's what you want."

   "But you're hard," she pointed out.

   "I've been hard for you before," he said softly.  "Nothing happened then
either."

   "You've been hard for me?" she whined.

   "At least two or three times.  How many times do I have to tell you
you're a desirable, sexy woman?"

   "Put your hands up ...  over your head," she said tentatively.

   He did that, and she felt a rush of relief.

   "Don't move them from there ...  OK?" This giving orders to a man was
still very new to her, and she was a little ambivalent about it.

   "I'll try," he said.  Even in this, he seemed to be honest.

   She scooted down, letting her pussy drag over the hard thing behind her,
and watched it flop up onto his belly, between her thighs.  It wobbled for
a few seconds, and then assumed its drunken, leaning position.  It was
almost awkward to sit on his spread thighs, and she had to lean forward, to
keep from slipping down between them.

   She reached for his penis and grasped it, moving it around, just
touching it.  She knew this thing would feel wonderful up inside her.  She
felt a ball of heat in her pussy, just thinking about it.  She'd just had
two orgasms.  That was exactly one more than she'd ever had in a single
session with either of her husbands.  It was two more than she'd had in
lots of those sessions.  They had always felt wonderful, inside her, even
when she didn't cum.

   Now this one was hers, to do with as she pleased.  It was an
intoxicating thought.

   She bent it, and rubbed the tip between her pussy lips.  Because she
closed her eyes when she did that, she didn't see him wince a little, as
she bent his penis the wrong way, and stretched something.

   She was in her dream again.  She had her dildo in her hand, except this
time it was warm, and had skin on it.  She didn't want her dildo.

   She wanted the live, throbbing, warm thing in her hand.

   She opened her eyes and swabbed the tip of his prick between her pussy
lips again.  This time she saw him wince as his penis was bent against the
grain.

   "I'm sorry," she said.

   "It's OK," he said.  His hips moved a little, wiggling, and she felt
herself lift a bit.  "It feels good too."

   "This feels good?" she asked, scooting forward and letting her pussy
push the skin back off the tip.

   "Uhhh yes," he whispered.  "You're teasing me."

   "I am," she said, delighted that she could tease a man and, at the same
time, feel so good herself.

   "You want it in me ...  don't you," she teased.

   "Ohhh yes," he moaned.

   "What will you do if I just stop?" she asked.

   "I'll beat off like a mad monkey," he sighed, lifting his hips again.

   "No you won't," she said.  "You can't move your hands ...  remember?"

   "I warned you to tie me up again," he groaned.

   "You said I didn't have to be afraid of you," she reminded him.

   "I meant that," he said through clenched teeth.  "But you're killing
me."

   "You want me to do this," she said, scooting forward even more.  She
felt the head stretch her.  Her dildo didn't stretch her like this.

   "Yes," he said tightly.

   Suddenly she couldn't wait ...  couldn't tease anymore.  Just the heat
of the tip of him in her was ecstasy.  She leaned forward and humped her
loins forward.  It stretched the base of his prick cruelly, for just a
second, until, suddenly, he was in her, and she was sitting straight above
it.  Her buttocks would have crushed his balls, if his legs hadn't been
spread.  His groan of satisfaction matched her own, and she closed her eyes
again.  It was fabulous to be filled like this again.  It was better than
fabulous.

   ================================

   She was lost in a dream again, rocking slowly to and fro, feeling the
warm hard thing in her pussy massaging her.  She felt like she was
floating. It was so delicious.  She brought her fingers to her drooping
nipples, which were stiff now, stiffer than they'd been in years.

   "I could do that for you," came a soft male voice that brought her back
to reality.  She opened her eyes.

   "What?" she asked dreamily.

   "I could touch your breasts.  I'd like to suck those nipples," he said.

   She could feel no fear.  She realized she'd been riding him, doing this
new thing, for ...  how long?  She didn't know.  His hands were still up
above his head.  They were gripping the bottom of the headboard, but they
were up there.

   "Yes," she sighed, dropping her hands to the sides of her hips.

   She closed her eyes again.  His hands ...  those big, strong hands ...
were so gentle as they pressed against her breasts, sliding over them.  Her
nipples seemed to shoot sparks.  He pinched them gently, and the sparks
grew into rays of light in her mind.

   "Uuuuuhhh," she grunted as an orgasm suddenly took her by surprise.  Her
pussy spasmed and she leaned forward, into his hands, her arms still limp,
as she instinctively tried to rub her clitty against him.

   It was a warm, sweet orgasm ...  not tense at all, and nothing like any
orgasm she'd ever had in her life.  It seemed to swirl gently through her
belly as her pussy pulsed around that lovely stiff thing.

   "Ohhhhhh." It was half sigh, and half moan.

   "Feels good?" he asked softly.

   "Ohhhhhh Bobby," she moaned.

   "You can do this as much as you want, from now on," he said.

   Her eyes opened.  She was still feeling waves of pleasure in her loins.
His hands were just pressing against her breasts, now, just holding her up.

   "Can I?" she asked.

   "Oh, yes," he said, smiling.  "I like this."

   "You like being tied up?" she asked.

   "No, not that," he said.  "I hope we don't have to do that again.  It's
kind of scary."

   "As much as I want?" she sighed.

   "As much as you want."

   "I'll spend my life's savings," she moaned.  "I like this too."

   "I'm glad," he said, so softly she could barely hear him.  "But I won't
charge you anything."

   Her orgasm seeped away, finally, and she stopped.

   "Wait," he said.  "I changed my mind."

   She sat back up, wary again, but not afraid.

   "I'm going to want to be paid in kisses," he said.  "You haven't kissed
me yet."

   It was, perhaps, at that moment, that Janet Griswold accepted Bobby as a
man she could trust.  Her mind would whirl, later, and she would be
astonished at what she had done with him ...  what he'd talked her into
doing with him.  But, at that moment, all he wanted from her was intimacy.
He was the first man who had offered her true intimacy.  It had cost him.
What man could let himself be tied up like that, and still have pride left?
And yet, all he had given her was tenderness, and all he wanted in return
was the same thing.  He hadn't had to do this at all.  He could have just
left, when she begged him to leave.  He could have left her to work out her
problem.  Instead, he had given her a man she could trust.

   At that moment, she wanted to kiss this man more than she had ever
wanted to kiss any man.

   Chapter Five

   Janet lay on him, limp from kisses that had lasted for what seemed like
an hour.  She couldn't get enough of his lips ...  of the passion he gave
her through his lips.  He hadn't gone soft and, while they kissed, he moved
her hips gently, just massaging her pussy on the inside.

   Her clit demanded more, and she rubbed harder.  She got to do another
thing for the very first time.  She got to have an orgasm while her lover
kissed her.  That orgasm left her limp, and satisfied ...  except that she
wanted more kisses.

   Now his lips became more demanding.  He nipped at her lips with his own,
and his hips wiggled beneath her.  He seemed agitated, making thrusts with
his hips.

   Then she felt the warm bath that his prick delivered, deep inside her,
and he moaned into her mouth.  His hands slid all over her back as she felt
him spurt again, and then again.  She sucked his tongue, as her pussy
squeezed, without her conscious direction.

   ==================================

   Janet woke.  Memory was instantaneous, and she realized she was still
lying on top of him.  She had fallen asleep, and couldn't believe it.  She
raised her head, and saw him looking at her.

   "I'm sorry," she gushed.

   "It's OK," he said.  "Except that I need to use the bathroom."

   She sat up.  His ankles were still tied.  She scrambled to untie the
knots on his ankles, while he worked on the ones still tied to his wrists.
When she pulled the ropes off his ankles she could see a depression in the
skin, where the rope had pressed hard.

   As soon as he was free, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and
stood, walking to the bathroom.  He closed the door.  She had no idea what
to do now.  She wasn't used to the aftermath of something like this, and
felt awkward.

   Then the door was open and he was walking toward her again.  He was
gorgeous, so tall and strong.  His penis swung gently, drooping between his
legs.

   "One more kiss before I go?" he asked, smiling.

   She all but fell into his arms, as he gave her something to do, and
loved that kiss as much as she had loved the others.

   "I'm proud of you," he said softly, when the kiss was over.  "I think
you made big strides today."

   His comment, made with a straight face, like he was some kind of
psychologist or something, was so ludicrous that she giggled, and then
laughed.

   "You're something else," she giggled.  "I don't know what you are, but
you're definitely something else."

   "I'm just a guy," he said carelessly.  "A guy who had a great time
today, and is looking forward to having a great time with you again."

   "You mean that, don't you," she said, still having a hard time adjusting
to believing a man ...  taking him at his word.

   "If I didn't need to get home, I'd show you how much I mean it right
now," he said.  His hand went to his soft penis and gripped it, sliding the
skin off the tip.

   She felt the thrill of a woman being appreciated, even if it was by a
lewd behavior.  She didn't care.  She felt good.

   "As tempting as that is, I need to think about what happened," she said.
"This is all so new.  Most of what happened today was new.  You're a little
too good to believe."

   "I'm just me," he said.  "Call me when you're ready."

   Janet really was a pretty strong woman, even if she had labored under
one crippling disillusionment.  She had made her way alone for a long time,
and she had the capacity for rational thought.  As she played back the
events of that afternoon, it became clear to her that she had finally met a
man who cared about her, as much as he cared about himself.  She was under
no illusion that what they had shared was love ...  not in the classical
sense.  But they HAD shared intimacy in a loving way, and that had been ...
electrifying.

   As a strong woman, Janet was capable of adapting to situations and
circumstances that threw her a curve.  She was capable of thinking things
out, and making a decision.

   She called Bobby the next day.

   ================================

   When Chuck parked to pick up "Matilda", and went to the door to knock,
he had no clue what he was about to face.

   They answered the door together.

   They were dressed identically.  Their hair was done identically.  The
makeup, from one to the other was indistinguishable.  Their heads were even
tilted in the same manner.

   "Hi Chuck," they said, together, their voices identically matched.  "I'm
ready to go." They had obviously practiced this.  It was like listening to
one voice, in stereo.

   "Um ...  hi," said Chuck.  "What's going on?"

   Again, they spoke in tandem.  It was eerie, as if some alien
intelligence was controlling them.

   "You've been a very bad boy," they said.

   Chuck wasn't stupid.  He got it right away.

   "You started it!" he said, in a lame attempt to get off the hook.

   Finally only one of them spoke.

   "No, Chuck, YOU started it.  You had two perfectly acceptable girls to
go out with, and have fun with, but when you figured out what we were
doing, you took advantage of us."

   "Well, you let me," he said, weakly.  He had the sudden inspiration that
this date might not go as well as he'd planned.

   He was wrong, but he didn't know that then.

   The only clue that they had, in fact, practiced saying things together,
came when one of them seemed to accidentally touch the other with the back
of her hand.  It was, in fact, a signal.

   "Where are you taking us?" they asked.

   "You?" Chuck's face wrinkled.  "Both of you?"

   "Of course," said the one that hadn't spoken alone yet.  "We both like
you and you obviously like both of us."

   "Together?  At the same time?" he moaned.  His hopes of getting a hand
in somebody's pants drained away.  In fact, it looked like he wasn't going
to get to have any naughty fun at all.

   He was wrong about that too, but he didn't know that yet either.

   "Both of us," they said, as one voice.

   =====================================

   While Chuck was trying to decide what to do - this could get expensive
if he took them out to eat - on the far side of Granger, Janet was opening
her door to face the man she was no longer afraid of.

   "Hi," she said, blushing a little.  She might not be afraid, but she was
still a little shy.  She had shared something incredibly intimate with this
man, and she hardly knew him.

   "I'm glad you called," he said.

   A little of the old, normal Janet bubbled up.

   "I'm not surprised.  Men seem to think about just one thing."

   "If that's not what I'm supposed to be thinking about," he said
casually, "then why did you call me?  Is something broken?"

   She winced inside.  He was right.  He knew exactly why she had called
him.  So, doing what women do frequently when they're caught in a
philosophical booboo, she just ignored it, and stepped back to let him in.
She expected him to sweep her into his arms and kiss her.

   He didn't.

   "What are we going to do tonight?" he asked, instead.

   It threw her off base.  What did he THINK they were going to do?  Hadn't
he just admitted that he had sex on his mind?

   "Go out to eat?  Play a game?  Go for another walk?" He made suggestions
in rapid fire speech.

   She looked confused, and he laughed.

   "Come on, Janet.  We can't just fuck like bunnies all the time.  We need
to get to know each other too."

   His use of the term "fucking like bunnies" was similar to what her
husbands might have said, but so different in its tone that it wasn't crass
at all.  It got a smile, in fact.

   "It's nice to know a man can be interested in something other than sex,"
she said.

   "Don't get the wrong idea," he said.  "I'm very interested in the sex.
I'm ready to go right now.  You turn me on something fierce.  But it will
be even better if we're more familiar with each other."

   She felt that thrill of knowing a man wanted her ...  particularly this
man.  She was, in fact, "ready to go" right now too.  She'd been thinking
about this all week.  Each time she'd used her dildo, she'd wished he was
there instead.

   "I'm not used to just talking to a man," she said.

   "Do you have any brothers?" he asked.

   She looked at him in surprise.  "No.  I was an only child."

   "Well, just try to think of me as the brother you didn't know you had,
and you just found.  We have a lot to catch up on."

   She was amazed at how simple that one odd idea was.  They ended up
riding around.  Janet showed him the house she had grown up in, and he took
her out to the farm, and showed her that.  They ended up parking on a hill
that overlooked Granger.  It wasn't much of a hill, but, as the light faded
from the cloudy sky, and the lights of town came on, they twinkled and
identified places that would otherwise be invisible in the dark.

   They talked for two hours, before he leaned over and kissed her.

   Then, suddenly, they were making out like teenagers.

   ====================================

   One of the twinkling lights they were looking at was the front porch
light of the house Chuck lived in with his parents.  Said parents were out
for the night, playing bridge, which left the house empty.

   There were teenagers making out there ...  three of them, in fact. 
Chucks dismal assessment of the situation had taken a radical shift, when
the girls suggested that the only thing that had changed was that now
everything was out in the open.

   He'd had to adjust his "sexual clock" somewhat.  Making out with two
girls at the same time turned out to involve some tricky timing.  You
couldn't spend too long with one, and in the process, neglect the other.

   In fact, Chuck felt a little like a ping pong ball.

   Both girls were topless, and he had four nipples to suck.  That made it
a little easier to accept the fact that neither of them would let him get
his hand in their pants.  In fact, from Chuck's perspective, it didn't get
much better than this.

   They still hadn't told him which one was which, though their kisses
separated them.  He had tried using their names, hoping to be corrected,
because he knew that once he know which was which, he'd know them apart by
their kisses from that point on.  The problem was that no matter which name
he used, the girl he used it on only said something like "Ohhhh I love it
when you suck gently like that," or "Kiss me some more, Chuck."

   He had adapted pretty well to spending just the right amount of time
with each girl, and was feeling pretty good about things.  He was not
prepared when one of them said "I think it's time."

   He wasn't prepared, because he was suddenly tackled by two girls, who
tickled him, poked him and generally made it impossible to do anything
except fend their hands off.

   That's when one of them went for his belt.

   "What?" he yelped, as his belt came loose.  His hand reached
automatically, but had to divert as fingers dug into his ribs.

   Within the next three minutes, Chuck Cunningham was efficiently, and
with great embarrassment, de-pantsed by two girls.

   It wasn't that Chuck didn't want to lose his pants.  If the girls had
simply said "Hey Chuck, we'd like to see your penis.  How about it?" he
would have gladly shucked his jeans.  But having your pants forcibly
removed by two girls, who have the mysterious knowledge of how to make you
helpless, just doesn't match the self image of most males.

   So he struggled, as the girls laughed and giggled.  He got his nipples
tweaked several times, and howled.  He got smothered by naked breasts
pressed to his face.  When he tried to kick, a surprisingly strong hand
suddenly gripped his balls, and what had been a sweet voice, only moments
ago said "Don't make me hurt you, Chucky!"

   He subsided, then.  He was beaten, and he knew it.  When fingers pulled
at his underwear, he not only didn't resist, he lifted his hips to assist
them.

   "OK, Betty," said the voice from the girl who was not on top of him ...
the one who had gripped his balls so strongly.

   He lay there, panting, as the two topless girls got on either side of
him, their faces only inches from his penis, which was as hard as it had
ever been, and stared at it.

   "Wow," said Betty.

   "Yeah, wow," sighed Matilda.

   "What are you doing?" asked Chuck.

   "Looking at it, silly," said Betty.

   "All you would have had to do was ask," he gasped.  His right nipple
still hurt.

   "It wouldn't have been nearly as much fun that way," said Matilda. 
"Besides, we had to punish you a little bit for tricking us."

   Chuck, by then, had realized that his precious family jewels were in no
danger, and that this date was vastly exceeding his wildest expectations.
Under those circumstances, it didn't seem important to remind them, again,
that they had started it.

   =====================================

   Bobby and Janet finally separated.  No clothing had been removed, but
hands had slipped here and there.

   "Take me home," she moaned.

   "Can I stay when we get there?" he panted.

   "You'd better!" she yipped.

   Their passion didn't fade as he drove them to her house.

   "I brought the ropes," he said, as he got out.  He went to the trunk.

   "You don't need them," she said, almost jumping up and down with
excitement.  "Can I be on top again?"

   "Of course," he said.

   Gone was her shyness.  A new world had been opened up to her, and she
was impatient to take advantage of it.  They undressed together and he lay
down on the bed, erect ...  ready for her.  She stared at his penis, just
for a second, and her eyes flitted to the drawer of the nightstand next to
the bed, where her dildo lay.  It could just stay there.  What he offered
was so much better.

   She groaned as she felt him split her apart, and settled down, just
sitting ...  just feeling that wonderful, warm fullness.  He lay with his
hands behind his head and a smile on his face, like he was lying in the
sun.

   Then, unable to wait another second, she leaned forward, with her hands
on his shoulders, and jerked her hips so fast that her heavy breasts
started swaying toward his face, and back again, to hit her ribcage.  He
lifted his head and played at capturing a nipple, but couldn't do it
because her breasts were gyrating so wildly.

   Her first orgasm was so easy to find that it almost shocked her, and she
stopped, to rotate her pussy on him, grinding her clit against his pubic
bone as the waves of pleasure washed through her.

   "This is so gooood," she groaned.

   "Do it again," he urged her, lying perfectly still.

   She did, but this time, as the streaks of pleasure shot from her pussy
in different directions, she leaned down while she rubbed, to let him get a
nipple in his mouth.  The sucking only intensified what was going on in her
pussy.

   "Can I be on top, just for a little bit?" he panted.

   She was so happy now that she didn't think about what he asked for as
some kind of domination.  She rolled and welcomed him between her legs.

   He didn't lie on top of her, like both Willard and Jack had done.  He
held himself up, with his head above hers, and leaned down for more of
those wonderful kisses as he stroked deep inside her.  He sped up only a
little, and his face wrinkled up, just before she felt another warm bath of
sperm soaking her pussy.

   "Ohhh thank you," he groaned, pushing hard and staying deep as his prick
pulsed repeatedly inside her.

   Janet had just watched him, as he did this.  She had used him, as he lay
there, and, to be honest, he was using her now.  But, somehow, his fervid
thanks made her feel like she was special.  He could be anywhere, with any
woman, doing this with that woman, but he had chosen to do it here, in her
bed, with her.  There might not be unending love between them, but they had
chosen each other to share this with, and that made it seem special
somehow.

   She thought of Rhonda, her best friend, who had done the same thing with
this man.  Her breath caught in her throat as, for the first time, she
remembered that Rhonda's belly had swelled up with this man's baby!  In all
the confusion, and fear and anxiety of this new relationship, she hadn't
thought about that at all!

   It was too late now, of course.  She was soaked.  The feel of his warm
semen in her body seemed to intensify, suddenly, and a ball of heat swelled
in her abdomen.

   "You just made me pregnant!" she gasped.

   His face hung over her, his blue eyes staring down into hers.  He leaned
down for a soft kiss and then pulled back.

   "I hope so," he said softly.

   ===================================

   Across town, Chuck was in a cloud of ecstasy.  Matilda and Betty had
just stared, at first, but they couldn't resist playing with the new toy
they had uncovered.  Their hands were like feathers all over his groin. 
They got into an argument about whether his prick was cute or ugly and
misshapen.  He didn't care, as long as their fingers continued to play with
it.

   "Suck it!" he gasped, going for broke.

   "No WAY!" squealed one of them.  He couldn't tell which.

   "Not going to happen, Chucky," said a voice that, because of the
inflections she used on "Chucky" he recognized as Matilda.  "How do we make
it squirt?"

   "Just rub it," he gasped, wanting to cum so badly that his ball sack
felt like they must be as big as a softball.

   He felt a hand grip him and drag down, almost painfully.

   "Not so hard!" he yelped.

   "OK," said Matilda.  "We've never done this before."

   Chuck's left hand scrabbled for the drawer that was built into his
headboard that held the tube of hand cream he used when he did this for
himself.  He extended the tube to them.

   "Put some of this on your hand.  It will slide then."

   They were quick learners, which was good, because Chuck was primed.  It
was bad because they kept trading off, which meant he got close, and then
they changed, and he had to start all over again.  Finally he couldn't take
it any longer.

   "Just one of you," he pleaded.  "One of you keep doing it for a while."

   He didn't know which one did it, but as soon as she had gone for more
than forty five seconds straight, he was there.

   "Oh yeah!" he groaned.  "Don't stop!"

   "Ewwwwww" came twin voices as his penis erupted, and young, healthy
semen spurted all over the place.  The hand disappeared from his prick, but
his ejaculation was already under way.  His penis tipped and he splattered
his own stomach with his spend, not caring.

   "That's gross!" whined Betty.

   "It's so messy!" said Matilda.

   "Damn!" sighed Chuck.  This was the best thing that had ever happened to
him.

   ==================================

   "Why would you want to get me pregnant?" asked Janet, who was lying
beside Bobby.  Having decided it was too late to do anything about it, she
had also decided not to be upset.  Besides, it might not be all that
dangerous right now anyway.  Neither of her husbands had ever gotten her
pregnant, and that was part of why she hadn't thought about the possibility
with Bobby.

   "I wouldn't do this with a woman if I didn't want her to have my child,"
he said.

   "That's silly!" she said.  "You're a gigolo."

   "Maybe," he said.  "I haven't actually looked that word up in a
dictionary yet.  I don't really do this for the money."

   "Why DO you do it then?" she asked.

   He looked at her like she was crazy.  "I do it because I like the women
I do it with," he said.

   "That's still no reason to want to get them pregnant," she said.

   "I can't help that," he said.  "If I like a woman, I just think about
her having my baby.  Isn't that what all this is for in the first place?"

   "Well, yes, technically," admitted Janet.  "But most people don't want
to have babies unless they're married."

   "Do you want to marry me?" he asked.

   Now she looked at him like HE was crazy.

   "You should know me well enough by now, just from what I told you
tonight, to know I'm not interested in getting married again," she said.

   "Then why did you let me do this?" he asked.

   "Because it FELT good!" she moaned.  "Because I NEEDED it!"

   "I agree," he said.  "Those are two of the reasons I did this with you."

   "What if I don't get pregnant?" she asked.  "Will you be disappointed?"

   "Of course not," he said.  "If you want to go on the pill, or one of
those other things, and not get pregnant, that's perfectly fine."

   "You could use a rubber from now on," she said.

   "I won't do that," he said.  "It would ruin the feeling."

   "That seems awfully irresponsible to me," said Janet.  "Why does it have
to be the woman who takes measures?"

   "You don't have to do this with me at all," said Bobby.  "That's your
choice.  I told you ...  you're in charge."

   "That's not fair," she moaned.  "I'm already addicted to you!  I know
exactly why Rhonda acted the way she did, now that I know what it was
like."

   "Then I hope you like babies, or don't mind going on the pill," he said.
"If we keep doing this, you'll get pregnant."

   "I hate men," sighed Janet, but there was no passion in her voice.

   "Do you hate me?" he asked.

   "No, but I hate men," she sighed again.

   He didn't understand that, exactly, but she didn't get up, and she
didn't make him leave.  So he kissed her.

   Ten minutes later he was on top of her again, and she was thrusting up
at him, having an orgasm.

   "I could pull out," he panted, very close.

   "OK," she grunted, as her pussy rippled around his wonderful prick.

   Her legs wrapped around him, and her arms held him tight, though.  Her
body knew what it wanted, even if her mind did not.

   It wanted to feel that warm bath inside her again.

   Chapter Six

   By March, the twins had been out on enough dates to suggest that they
were thoroughly interested in boys now.  The problem was that they always
went out together on these dates.  Normally, that wouldn't be a problem. 
Most parents (or older brothers) would actually prefer that a young,
inexperienced girl be with her sister on a date.  What could be better, in
terms of being chaperoned?  What made it a problem was that neither Bobby
nor Mirriam understood the intricacies of the twin relationship, which
meant there was no chaperoning of any kind going on.

   By March, the twins were experts at getting Chuck off.  If he closed his
eyes, he could tell which girl had her fist around his prick; by the way
she stroked him.  Matilda's grip was always tighter, and faster.  Betty
gripped him more loosely, but her hand always went up and onto the knob,
like she was petting it, in the process of jerking him off.

   Both techniques were imminently successful.

   On this particular night, Chuck learned that, while he was getting his
rocks off every time they went out, which was just fine with him, the girls
were a little less satisfied with things.  That turned out to be a product
of familiarization with the process of getting Chuck to spurt.  It was fun,
but, after a while, they knew what to expect.

   Not only that, his repeated gasps, moans and gyrations, as he shot his
spunk up into the air, suggested that their own orgasms, had when they got
home and were in the privacy of their own room, could be a lot stronger
than they were, even when they helped each other get there.  They had
talked about their pact, and had decided it was time to abolish it.

   Chuck learned this when Matilda asked him a question.

   "Chuck," she said, as she jerked her strangling hand along his hot,
stiff rod.  "Do you love us?"

   What man, in that situation, is stupid enough to say "Gee, I don't
really know.  This love stuff is still a little vague to me."

   "Yes!" he gasped, feeling his balls begin to gather themselves for the
finale.

   She let him spurt before she pursued, further, the goal of the twins for
that particular night.  Getting him to cum was part of that goal.

   Betty took over, and milked him dry, while Matilda dangled a stiff
nipple in his gasping face.

   "Do you love us enough to do exactly what we tell you to do, and nothing
more?"

   "Sure," he panted.

   Then his world got a lot wilder as the twins stood, and slipped off
their lower clothing, something they had never done.

   Standing naked in front of him, Matilda explained.

   "We want you to get us off, like we get you off," she said.  "But you
can only touch us with your fingers ...  nothing else!  Got it?"

   Chuck, to be fair, wasn't quite all there at that moment.  Four naked
breasts was like some drug.  When two naked pussies were added to that,
along with the knowledge that he got to play with those two naked pussies,
it was like a drug overdose.

   He didn't collapse and die, though.  Sex isn't a deadly drug.  Not at
his age.

   Which is how Chuck ended up with the middle finger of his left hand
hooked in Matilda's pussy, and the middle finger of his right hand hooked
in Betty's pussy, while both young women bucked and groaned, naked, on
either side of him.

   He was the meat in a very interesting sandwich.  Matilda's plan to make
him squirt, and therefore render him harmless, as far as his penis went,
was overly optimistic.  Being a healthy young man, and being unfamiliar
with either pussy he was playing with, he got hard again long before he got
either of his girlfriends off.

   There were a lot of discoveries that evening.  Chuck's discovery was
that just putting your finger in a girl doesn't guarantee anything at all.
He expected the girls to explode in ecstasy, and demand to be fucked.

   That was not to be.

   The girls discovered that simply having a boy's finger in your pussy
didn't mean it would end up the same way as when you put your own finger in
your pussy.  What he was doing felt good, but it wasn't quite right.  Or at
least effective.  They both discovered that technique really matters.

   Another thing the girls discovered was that Chuck's finger, bigger than
their own, felt ever so much better than their own slim digits.  It was
impossible to ignore the fact that his prick was bigger ...  and longer ...
than his finger.  If some's good, and more's better ...  too much should be
just right.

   In this case, "some" was their finger, "more" was his finger, and "too
much" ...  well, isn't it obvious to you too?

   Had Chuck known what each girl was thinking, he quite likely could have
gotten his prick in them that night.  His machinations got them very hot,
but did not bring the kind of relief they just knew was waiting for them
... somewhere ...  just over the horizon.

   Chuck, however, was a bit distracted, by two girls trying to teach him
how to properly fingerfuck a woman.  That's a little like carrying on two
conversations about how to do something, and each person is trying to get
you to do this thing in a slightly different fashion.

   In the end, Chuck had to handle them one at a time.  Matilda got
frustrated first, because he just didn't seem to be listening to her.  He
was also right handed, but none of them thought of that.  Then, he had to
get on the other side of Betty, to be able to use his right hand, to do
what she was insisting he do.

   Betty's subsequent orgasm, which finally roared out of the dark into her
body, and which she felt had been well earned, convinced Matilda that
one-on-one was the best way to go.  While Betty lay there trembling and
gasping, Matilda squirmed between Chuck and her sister, threw her legs
open, and went in pursuit of her own orgasm.

   Had the girls taken the time to reflect on things, they might have come
to the conclusion that, it being their first time and all, they should not
have had such high expectations when they launched this new chapter of
their relationship with Chuck.  What actually happened, though, was that
they had to work so hard to get what they had gone after, that they were a
little disappointed.

   Not that they blamed Chuck.  After Matilda got him to move his finger
correctly, and had her own very good, but not quite as strong as
anticipated, orgasm, they also learned how quickly a young man can recover.
He was obviously trying hard, and was obviously very interested in the
proceedings.

   In gratitude for what they had put him through, they did him again.

   That was when both girls, looking at the nice, long, hard thing in their
hands, realized that too much might be just right.

   Again, if they'd stopped to think about it, they might have realized
that they were out of control.  They had gone from not being much
interested in boys at all, to wanting to fuck one, in a very short time,
all things considered.  Their arrival at the point of being interested in
males ...  as males ...  had been somewhat retarded.  But, as most
youngsters discover, once the interest is established, things seem to take
off rather quickly after that.

   Of course, the immediate problem was ...  they had never been put on the
pill, like their older sisters.  They were well aware of the dangers of
that spurting prick.  But, like 99.9% of all teenage girls, they weren't
about to go to their mother and say something like "Hey Mamma, remember
when you put all the others on the pill?  Well it's our turn." You just
didn't do that.  You didn't want Mamma to know that you needed the pill. 
That was sure to cause ...  complications.

   They didn't tell Chuck about all this, of course.  But they talked about
it later that night in their room.  They flipped for it.  Matilda lost,
which was why, the next day, she was the one who had to sneak into the
men's bathroom at the Apco gas station on the highway out of town, and
figure out how to feed the machine the coins that would get them two extra
sensitive, wildly colored, ribbed prophylactics.

   =====================================

   It was cold, but not bitterly so.  There had been eight inches of snow
during the night, and Bobby had shown up asking Constance if she wanted to
go sledding.

   "We're grown up, silly," she laughed.

   "That doesn't mean we can't go sledding," he said.

   She ended up going with him, muttering about how crazy she was, and how
juvenile he was acting.

   The "sled" turned out to be the inner tube from a big rig truck, almost
five feet in diameter, and totally un-steerable.  The first time down the
hill, she was scared, so he simply sat in the middle of the tube, and
pulled her down on his lap, like he was a chair.  Both were bundled up, so
his hands on her chest, holding her against him, were neither sensual nor
particularly noticeable, especially since, as he jerked her onto his lap
and put his hands on her breasts, her momentum started them down the hill.

   That spinning, bumpy ride, with Constance screaming like she was on a
ten story roller coaster, left her laughing.  It also convinced her he was
right.  You were never too old to do this.

   She went down once by herself, lying on the tube.  She decided that
wasn't as much fun.  Part of that decision was having to drag the tube back
up the hill.  When they went together, Bobby pulled it back up.

   So, from then on, she rode him while he rode the tube, whether he was
sitting in it, and she sat in his lap, or he was lying on it, and she was
lying on his back.

   An hour later, they hit a new bump, and went flying.  They rolled over
and over, snow flying everywhere, getting into the necks of their coats,
and coating sweaty faces.  Bobby lay there, arms flung wide, on his back.

   Constance crawled over to him, worried at first, but then she saw the
plumes of his breath rising from his face.  Her face hovered over his, as
she checked ...  just in case.

   "Are you OK?" she asked.

   "Gotcha!" he yelled, reaching for her head.  He pulled her down for a
quick, very cold kiss on the lips, which she did not resist in any way. 
Then he let her go and her face went back to where it had been, seeming to
hang in space over his.

   "I love you," she said softly.

   "I know," he said, smiling.

   "I always have," she said.

   "I know," he said again.

   "I still miss him," she said, staring down at Bobby.

   "I know that too," he said, still smiling.  "You'll always miss him."

   "Thank you," she said, leaving the details of what she was thanking him
for somewhat amorphous.

   "You're welcome," he said, knowing that it didn't matter what she meant.

   "I'm cold," she said.

   "Hot chocolate!" he barked.  "We need hot chocolate!"

   They spent another hour, at her house, drinking hot chocolate, and
letting the warmth of the house seep into cold flesh.  A lot of it was
spent in silence.

   Then he left.

   ====================================

   Janet opened the door with a beaming smile.

   "You want to know something?" she asked.

   "Sure," he said, taking his jacket off.

   "I was thinking about you today," she said, moving to slide her arms
around him, and press herself up against him.

   "Well, you asked me to come over today, so that's not so strange," he
commented, kissing her forehead.

   "That's not what I meant," she said, rubbing her breasts against his
chest.  "What I meant was that now, when I think about you, I don't get
nervous anymore."

   "I'm glad to know I don't terrify you," he grinned.

   "I'm serious, Bobby!" she said, trying to drive one sculpted fingernail
into his side.  Her finger bent, and he didn't react at all.  "I've been
talking to the men who come into the IGA."

   "Of course you do," he said, sliding his hands over her back.  "You're
the manager.  You have to talk to customers."

   "Not like that," she said, impatiently.  "Before I just answered their
questions, or dealt with their complaints.  Now I chat with them.  It's not
so scary anymore."

   "Not all men are bastards," said Bobby.  "A lot are, but not all."

   "Oh thanks," she sighed.  "I was feeling better about men, and now you
remind me that a whole bunch of them are bastards."

   "Look," said Bobby.  "You can be more afraid of men than you should be,
and you can be not afraid enough.  Those are the extremes.  What you need
to do is find the middle ground, where you aren't afraid, but are still
careful." He kissed her lips more quickly than she wanted him to.  "Now, is
that all?  I have things to do, you know."

   "No that is NOT all!" she said, holding him more tightly.  "And you know
it, buster!"

   "Oh, I see," he said, grinning.  "You want me to help you remember that
some men are bastards."

   He stooped, suddenly, and put his shoulder in her stomach.  She yelped
as he stood, and she was suddenly draped over his shoulder.  He took her to
her bedroom, as she kicked feebly, trying to get air into her lungs.  He
threw her on the bed, and she bounced as his hands went to the waistband of
her jeans.

   "What are you doing?" she gasped, her eyes showing concern.

   "I'm showing you a man can be impatient," he said.

   "I know about that already!" she said, kicking at him.  "I don't like
this, Bobby!"

   He got her jeans open, and the zipper down, and pulled them down off her
hips.

   "BOBBY!" she squealed.

   "I'm not going to hurt you," he said.  "You know that."

   "But you're being so rough!" she complained.

   "This is rough," he said, rolling her halfway over and smacking her butt
with one hand.

   "OW!" she yelled.

   "This is impatient," he said, rolling her back and covering her body
with his as he kissed her.

   This kiss was not short.  It wasn't rough either.  It just told her, in
no uncertain terms, that she was going to get fucked.

   Then he stopped doing that, and pulled her panties off, as she tried to
keep them on.

   "Bobby!  My ex-husbands used to act like this!" she complained.

   He won the battle when she decided not to let her panties be ripped to
shreds, and let go of them.

   "Did they act like this?" he asked, forcing her knees apart.  His face
dove and he licked and sucked her sex.

   "OHHHHHHH," she moaned, relaxing a little as she felt his tongue digging
between her pussy lips.  "Noooo, they never did that!"

   He lifted his face.

   "I want you, Janet.  I need you.  I've been thinking about doing this
for hours.  I'm not going to stop.  Did you get on the pill yet?"

   "No!" she gasped, her fingers moving toward his head, intent on pulling
his face back between her legs.

   "Then I hope you're safe, 'cause I'm going to fuck you for hours."

   Then his face was back between her legs, and she was humping her pussy
up against it.  She had no idea how he did it, but a few minutes later he
had no pants on.  His shirt and her top were still on as he crawled up and
filled her with thick, hot prick.

   This was not the gentle, calm Bobby, who lay there under her.  But ...
he wasn't violent either.  Not really.  Not in the same sense that her
ex-husbands had been.  And he didn't just plug in, squirt and then go drink
beer either.  When she felt herself being filled, she was just beginning to
warm up.  It felt wonderful, but he was being so rough that she was still a
little nervous.

   That fled as he stroked her patiently, and she caught fire.  He kept
going until she had an orgasm, grinding against her and kissing her while
that electrified her body.

   Then he got off of her, and his fingers worked at the buttons of her
shirt.

   "I couldn't wait," he panted.  "I should have taken your shirt off.  Now
I can play with those beautiful breasts."

   He took his own shirt off too, and sucked her nipples until she
squirmed, before sliding into her again.  He let her have another orgasm,
and then flushed her full of hot spunk.

   Twenty minutes later he took her from behind.  He claimed she owed him
an orgasm, because she'd had three and he'd only had one.  She wiggled her
butt at him as he squirted in her again.

   Then, after an hour of cuddling, he let her be on top.

   ===================================

   Chuck was hard when he arrived at the farm to pick up the twins.  He'd
been waiting all week to get a chance to be with them again.  He'd planned
in great detail exactly how he was going to probe their naked pussies with
his fingers, and rub at their young clitties.  He had dreams of getting
them so worked up ...  of being so good at getting them off ...  that
they'd just flop back and demand to be fucked.  Such are the dreams of
young men.  Most young men know they're dreams, and don't expect reality to
be quite that good, but it's fun to dream the dream.

   He was not actually prepared for the dream to come true.

   "Hi," said Matilda - he was pretty sure it was Matilda - as she opened
the door.  "We have to do homework."

   "Shit," he muttered.

   "Don't curse!" snapped the girl.  She leaned closer and whispered:
"Cursing does not turn us on."

   "Sorry," he said, already bummed out.

   "You can help us do our homework," said the girl in front of him.

   She pulled him into the house.  He saw their mother, a nice looking
woman with big breasts, who was reading in a chair and looked up at him.

   "Chuck's going to help us with that project for school we've been
talking about, Mamma," said the girl who had let him in.

   "OK, Betty," said the woman.  "Leave the door open please."

   Some maternal instincts are automatic.

   "OK, Mamma," said Betty, pulling Chuck along by his hand.

   Matilda was in the bedroom Betty pulled him to and they did, in fact,
leave the door open.  That's because they planned on using Suzie's room for
the festivities they had planned.

   "I thought we were going out tonight," complained Chuck.  "I don't want
to do homework!"

   Matilda, having lost the coin toss, and therefore having had to be the
one to sneak into the men's bathroom and buy the rubbers, also won the coin
toss, in a sense.  She got to go first.  She reached in her pocket and
pulled out a foil-wrapped packet, with neon blue letters on it.

   "You know what that is, Chuck?" she asked, with a gleam in her eye.

   He looked, and then swallowed.  "Yes," he whispered.

   "Do you still want to leave?"

   "I don't know," said Chuck, carefully.  He was a young man who had also
dreamed of this moment, but that dream hadn't quite gone along lines like
these.  A man, stumbling through a dark forest, who suddenly comes upon a
pile of gold coins, has to look two ...  maybe three times, to make sure
they're real.

   "What do you mean you don't know?" asked Matilda, visibly upset.

   Chuck looked around, secretively.  "Come on, Matilda," he said.  "Last
time, all I got to do was just touch you a little.  You might be playing
with me."

   "We're not playing with you," said Matilda, her voice low, and sounding
dangerous somehow.  "We planned on making this a very special night,
Chuck."

   Chuck blinked.

   "Here?" he said, his voice broadcasting his incredulity.  "We can't do
that here!  Your mother's right down there!" He pointed.

   "You let us worry about Mamma," said Matilda.  "Do you still want to
leave?" The way she asked the question made it perfectly clear that he
would never be asked to stay again ...  or use what was still in her hand
...  should he decide to leave.

   Chuck's mind whirled.  He equivocated, by falling back on a time-tested
line intended to improve her mood.  "You know I love you, baby," he said.
He remembered there were two of them, and quickly looked at Betty.  "You
too, honey," he added.

   Both girls were horny, which might explain why, even though they heard
that piece-of-shit line come out of his mouth, they ignored it.  They would
think about that later ...  years later, even, but for now, they ignored
it.

   "Good," said Matilda, walking past him.  "I'm first.  Follow me."

   He did, and they went to another room.  She left the lights off, and
closed the door behind them.  His eyes adjusted slowly, and light coming in
the windows from the yard light his car was parked under began to let him
see, as Matilda started to get undressed.

   "Where's your brother?" asked Chuck, carefully.  He had no desire to run
afoul of Bobby Dalton, who looked like what Chuck would envision Paul
Bunyan to look like.

   "He's not here," said Matilda.  "Aren't you going to get undressed?"

   "What's Betty doing?" he asked.  He was used to having both girls around
during times like this.

   "She's keeping Mamma from wondering where you and I are, but we don't
have all night!" hissed Matilda.

   Chapter Seven

   Just as the girls had kept some secrets from each other in the past,
concerning Chuck, Matilda kept a secret from Betty on this night too.  She
didn't tell her sister that ...  all things considered ...  it wasn't all
it was cracked up to be.

   She rolled the rubber onto his straining penis herself, having read the
directions at least a dozen times.  She didn't understand what that little
extra thing at the tip was for, so she just ignored it, using her
fingernails to get the slippery thing down onto his cock.  Once sheathed in
rubber, it didn't look nearly as interesting.

   It didn't feel all that interesting either.

   Of course the majority of that was because Chuck, once he adjusted to
the fact that he was actually going to get his dick IN her, was almost
beside himself with giddy joy.  That giddy joy translated to an ejaculation
that came within a minute of feeling Matilda's clasping heat through the
extra sensitive layer separating his sperm from Matilda's egg.

   Like most young men, he was unaware of his partner's level of ... 
accomplishment.

   She did like the feel of being stretched and filled.  That was very
nice, once the initial discomfort of being a little too stretched and
filled was gone.  But, about the time she started enjoying things, he gave
a sighing groan, and completed a ritual of manhood by cumming with his dick
in a girl for the first time in his life.

   Of course he thought he had done a masterful job.

   "Wow that was great!" he panted.  He was right too.  It WAS great ... 
for him.

   Matilda, as so many young women do when their first complete sexual
encounter is found to be much less satisfying than she had dreamed it would
be ...  basically kept quiet.  She wasn't all that sure how great it was
SUPPOSED to be, and therefore couldn't really gauge how well it had
actually gone.

   They went back into the girls' room, where Betty was, in fact, working
on a homework project for social studies.  When Betty looked up, her eyes
went to her sister's face, where Matilda had pasted a smile.  She had,
after all, gotten fucked, which had been the goal.

   Not having known what to do with the rubber, Chuck had simply left it
on, dressing quickly.  Now, as his penis completed softening, the movement
of his clothing dragged it off his penis.  There was a scurry of activity
as the mess was dealt with.  He unzipped his pants, exposing the mess,
which the girls simply dealt with as if they had jerked him off.

   Twenty minutes later, after being teased into another erection by Betty,
Chuck proudly followed her to the same room, where basically the same thing
took place, except for the preliminary talk.  Betty sheathed his stiff
penis and he climbed aboard.

   For Betty, perhaps because he had cum such a short time past, it was a
little better.  She actually felt the beginnings of something perilously
close to what could be almost called an orgasm.  Then his groaning sigh
announced they were done.  Like her sister, she wasn't at all sure whether
things had gone well or not, and didn't want to risk being made fun of by
asking a stupid question, such as "Was that good for you?  Cause it wasn't
all that great for me, and I was just wondering ...  is that all there is?"

   To cut to the chase, a very satisfied and pumped up Chuck went home
grinning like the Cheshire Cat, leaving behind two relatively unsatisfied
and disillusioned girlfriends.

   Had the girls talked, in their usual fashion, they probably would have
come to the conclusion that this sex thing needed some serious working on,
so that it would be much better than it had been.  If they'd had the
opportunity to lose their virginities together, watching each other, the
same thing would have probably happened.

   But, because they had done this thing separately, they kept it separate,
as odd as that may seem.

   Things were actually made worse because, three weeks later, when they
tried it again, they had to try it in the back seat of Chuck's car, with
the heater running full blast.  The girls WERE together, this time, with
one in the front, and the other in the back.  When what happened to the
other twin matched, pretty much, what had happened to the one watching, the
misinformation that "I guess this is all there is" was perpetrated. 
Neither had any clue that Chuck was popping off way too fast, with way too
little attention to his partners.

   ====================================

   By April, Janet was as addicted to Bobby as all the other women had
been. Having a normal, regular, passionate lover had affected her to a
degree she couldn't believe.  She was quite sure that Bobby was special,
but she was also sure that he wasn't unique, among men.

   That gave her hope that she could meet another man like Bobby.

   That she didn't consider Bobby "a keeper" was based on somewhat
complicated emotions.  Bobby had seen her at her worst; bawling, fearful,
and completely unhinged.  She loved him for not reminding her of that, but
could not get it out of her mind that he had seen her that way.  At the
same time, what he was giving her was more than enough to keep her happy.
Still, she was aware on some level, that some day Bobby might not be there
anymore.  It wasn't that she thought he'd leave her high and dry.  It was
more like some other woman might decide he WAS a keeper, and such a woman
might not appreciate him paying attention to other women.

   In any case, as May loomed, and the suggestion that winter was over
began to fill the air, Janet looked at the men around her in a very
different way than she had just a few months ago.

   Twice she picked up the phone to call and make a doctor's appointment,
to get a prescription for the pill.  The first time, she was put on hold,
and eventually hung up, because she had to go to work.  The second time,
the phone on the other end was ringing, when her doorbell chimed.

   She hung up, because she knew it was Bobby at the door.

   That afternoon, as Janet Griswold lay panting under Bobby, thrusting up
onto his spurting prick, she got pregnant.  He gave her three doses of warm
baby-making sperm that afternoon, and she loved every one of them, as
orgasms danced all around her body.

   They say some women can tell.  It isn't scientific.  At least there
isn't any scientific evidence to bear it out.  But the fact is that there
are small changes in a woman's body immediately upon conception.  Whether
it's hormonal, or whatever, some women can just tell.

   She felt so fabulous when she got to work, that, somehow, she knew.

   ==================================

   In May, the twins graduated, along with their boyfriend, Chuck
Cunningham.  It was pretty common knowledge that both of them were "his
girlfriend", and that, whenever he took one of them out, the other went
along too.  Rumor was rife about what happened on those dates.  The girls
weren't talking, and nobody believed Chuck's boasting version of the
events.

   Since losing their virginities to him, the girls had allowed only two
more episodes of intercourse.  To be brutally honest, that's because they
had more fun with him when it was only his fingers that probed their
pussies.

   Chuck, of course, was not happy.  He didn't care if he had to use a
rubber.  He just wanted to hump and spurt.  That he got to do it with two
girls, instead of only one, was just frosting on the cake.

   All graduation ceremonies are called "commencement".  An unending stream
of valedictorians and commencement speakers have, for time immemorial,
explained this to the graduating classes in America.  Maybe elsewhere too.
Who knows?  They all say this isn't an ending ...  it's a beginning.

   In the case of the graduating class of Granger High, in the spring of
1975, it was a beginning, at least for Chuck and the twins.  Ironically, it
was the beginning of the end.

   Chuck took them out that night, and wanted to fuck them to celebrate. 
Neither girl had procured any rubbers for the occasion.  You could only
sneak into the men's bathroom so many times before somebody was going to
catch you, and the last thing you wanted, in those days, was for someone to
call up your mother and say something like "You know, I saw your daughter
sneaking into the men's room at the Apco station tonight.  She had a fist
full of quarters when she went in and a fist full of prophylactics when she
came out."

   So, when neither girl would "put out", as Chuck thought of it, he got
mad.  He pulled out what he thought of as his "ace in the hole," and
threatened them.

   "You know there have to be at least five or six girls who would LOVE to
have my dick in them tonight!" he warned.  "Maybe I should just go find one
of them!"

   The reason Chuck couldn't tell the Dalton twins apart was because he
never took the time to get to know them.  Had he done so, he would have
known that all the Dalton girls were as stubborn as the day is long, and as
independent as their mother was.

   "Maybe you should!" came the response, in tandem.

   Chuck, like most young men, wasn't aware that sometimes when a woman
makes up her mind about something, she does it in a split second.  She may
do this for reasons that she may not be interested in talking about.  Some
women, when they make up their minds, assume that their new attitude about
things is the only possible attitude.  He had no idea that he had crossed
an invisible line with his threat and that, just like that; he was no long
attractive to either of the twins.  He found out when the date abruptly
ended, despite his pleading attempts to backpedal.

   Thus it was that as summer beckoned, the twins were without a man.

   There is an interesting side note, to the fact that Chuck did not get
laid that night.  In fact, Chuck didn't get laid until he got to college
the following September.  Then he didn't get laid for another month.  After
that, he didn't get laid at all.  Girls in college apparently communicate
with each other a lot more than most people think they do, and Chuck's
reputation wasn't attractive to any of them either.

   As for the twins ...  well, that comes later.

   =================================

   Another momentous event in June occurred when Paul came home from
college to work for his father for the summer.  He and Linda were both
surprised when Paul's parents presented them with keys to a very small
house that they had rented for them.  That it was very small made no
difference to the happy couple.  At last they could have their own place,
and set up house, and be alone together with their baby.

   It made things a lot quieter at the Dalton house too.

   ===================================

   On the seventeenth of June, Felicity Chumley had another baby boy, with
coal black hair.  Bobby was replacing shingles on a roof when Annie finally
found him.  She had called the house and, when no one had answered the
phone, had driven there to find him.  As it turned out, the twins, the only
ones there, were cooking out, which was why no one had answered the phone.
They didn't know where he was, but they knew where their mother was, and
called her to get the information.  They went with Annie, out of pure
curiosity.

   They watched, curiously, when Bobby came down from the roof and was
engulfed in a very friendly hug by Annie.  There followed an even
friendlier kiss, while she told him what was happening.

   There was no rain threatening, so he took a break and went to see his
latest son.  Chester shook his hand when he arrived, heedless of the fact
that it was dirty.

   "We named this one after me!" the old man actually giggled, hugging
Bobby briefly.  "How about that?!"

   Through it all, Matilda and Betty just stood beside Annie, puzzled, and
watched.

   =================================

   Seeing Chester and Annie's friendship with their brother was one of the
things that woke the twins up to the fact that there was a lot going on
that they had been previously ignorant of.  The little world they had lived
in together, and which they hadn't really looked outside of very much,
began to expand even further.

   They had worked part time at Renee's childcare center ever since it had
been open.  They had, in fact, been responsible for getting her first
customers.  Renee had been trying to spend more time on the educational
side of her business, and when she asked the twins to go full time, they
accepted.

   It was then that they realized how often their big brother came to see
Renee ...  and how often he had no obvious purpose for doing so.  They'd
seen him there, of course, in earlier times, and hadn't thought much of it.
He had, after all, supervised the construction of the center.  Now that
they were there more than a few hours a week, though, they saw him every
other day or so.  He spent a lot of time with the children too.  They had
never thought of Bobby as being all that interested in little kids.

   At first they thought he might be trying to get Renee to be his
girlfriend.  One of the things they WERE aware of was that Bobby had no
"girlfriend".  The problem was that whenever Bobby was there, and other
women came to drop off or pick up their children, they were often just as
friendly with Bobby as Annie had been.  Hugs and kisses were almost routine
for their big brother.  And these weren't just polite hugs, and quick
kisses, either.

   They had never really given much thought to where Bobby went, or what
Bobby did.  Now, though, as their curiosity was piqued, they began to pay
more attention.

   Then Mirriam announced the first of the summer cookouts.  This was
something the twins had never paid much attention to either.  Now, though,
they thought about it, as they looked at the yard full of people.  Those
picnics had started a couple of years back, and, for the first time, the
twins noted that a lot of the same women showed up at them, who brought
children to the childcare center, and who hugged and kissed their big
brother a lot.

   Their mother also seemed to be very happy to see all those children.

   It was one more thing that the twins filed away in minds that were even
more curious now.

   ==================================

   The 4th of July celebration in Granger, that year, was unique, in one
sense.  That was because the rows of tables which, for years, had been
unofficially separated into two groups, seemed to get all mixed up.

   The older women in town, who considered themselves to be a cut above the
rest morally, still gathered together at their traditional tables.  At
first, anyway.  The problem was that the other side wasn't big enough
anymore.  There had been an influx of people who decided to sit with
Mirriam, Prudence, Mable and the whole crowd of women who were divorced,
had had children out of wedlock, or were otherwise considered "loose" by
some in town.  In fact, there was now an equilibrium, of sorts, and the
stalwart and stiff matrons of the town, who visualized themselves as
holding back the tide of immorality in Granger, suddenly found there were
as many loose women in town as there were protectors of virtue.

   It didn't help that all the children didn't care a whit whether their
playmates had only one, or two parents.  Worse, there were couples
everywhere, made up of teenagers, who were obviously engaged in a mating
ritual that was as old as time.  The girls giggled and blushed and looked
at each other, while the boys postured and pranced and held lit
firecrackers, throwing them at the last possible second before they
exploded.

   The food was good.  The carnival was good.  The atmosphere was good. 
Everybody was having a great time, with the possible exception of those
stiff and proper ladies, who refused to sit at the same table with blatant
sinners.

   Bobby was sitting beside Renee, who was fairly bursting with the baby
that seemed to turn and twist inside her constantly these days.  She was
wearing a dress that smoothed tightly over her bulging belly, and the
fabric of that dress moved frequently as the baby inside moved.

   When the music started, Bobby stood up and asked his mother to dance. 
Then he danced with Prudence, and Jill after that.  Jill pressed close to
him as they danced.

   "We just dodged a bullet," she said into Bobby's shoulder.

   "Oh?"

   "My period was supposed to start last week," she said.

   She looked up, and couldn't miss the hopeful happiness in Bobby's eyes.

   "I started this morning, though," she added.

   "Oh." She could also hear the faint disappointment in his voice.

   "You'd like it if you got me pregnant again, wouldn't you," she said,
only half teasing.

   "Of course I would," he admitted.

   Jill hugged him closer, and kissed his shoulder.

   Just then Bobby felt a tap on his shoulder.  He turned to see Sal,
standing there, looking faintly uncomfortable.

   "Can I cut in?" he asked.

   "Sal!" said Jill.  "I haven't seen you for ages!"

   She let go of Bobby, who stepped back and let Sal take over.  He moved
away from them, thinking to ask Renee if she wanted to dance, and didn't
hear the conversation he left behind.

   "You haven't seen me because you never come to the diner anymore," said
Sal, dancing somewhat awkwardly.  He was ten years older than Jill and, as
far as she knew, had no real social life.

   "I've been so busy with the photo studio," she said, looking at him.

   "I miss you," said Sal, his face darkening.

   "Why Sal, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were flirting with me,"
said Jill, smiling.

   "What if I am?" he asked, defensively.

   "Awwww," sighed Jill.  "I miss you too.  You always were a nice guy."

   "Nice guys finish last," muttered Sal darkly.

   "I didn't know you were in a race," she teased.

   "When you left, I realized that the diner was my whole life," said Sal,
seriously.  "I'm not so sure that's a good thing anymore." He looked at his
former waitress.  "I realized that part of why I liked coming to work was
that you were there." His eyes darted away.  He was obviously very nervous
about having said that.

   "Thank you," said Jill softly.  "I didn't think you ever noticed me ...
I mean other than as your waitress."

   "You've got to be kidding," he said.  "I used to stare at you so much I
burned the food."

   "You never served burnt food in your life, you silly man," said Jill,
smiling.

   The song ended, and they parted, standing there, looking at each other.

   "Thanks for dancing with me," he said, with an embarrassed look on his
face.

   Jill stared at him a little longer.  He wasn't a handsome man.  He had a
receding hairline, and he ate a little too much of his own good cooking. 
But he had a good heart.  She knew that, because she had seen him in his
every-day persona, which was admirable.  Sal had always been ...  well ...
Sal.  At first he was her boss.  Then, as that had become a partnership,
things had just flowed.  She hadn't liked being a waitress, but that was
only because her feet hurt, and sometimes customers were impossible to
satisfy.  But she'd always felt fortunate for having a boss like Sal.

   "I might dance with you again," she said.  "If you asked me again," she
added.

   The look on his face reminded her of the look on Bobby's face, when she
told him she'd been late on her period.  There was joy, and hope on Sal's
face.  She hadn't looked past Bobby for fulfillment on an interpersonal
basis.  She was divorced, and had had a baby out of wedlock.  Men weren't
interested in that kind of woman ...  not for anything other than quick
sex. Sal was the first man to ask her to dance in years.

   An hour later, Sal slumped down in a chair across the table from
Prudence.  He and Jill had danced every dance since he cut in on Bobby, and
he was worn out.  Jill brought him a piece of pie.

   "I expect a good tip out of you, buster," she said, setting the plate in
front of him.

   ==============================

   Four days later, Renee's water broke at eleven in the morning, while she
was at work.  Matilda drove her to the hospital, while Betty stayed at the
childcare center.  First, Betty called Rhonda, to come in for an extra
shift.

   Then, based on Renee's fevered "Call Bobby!  Tell him I've gone into
labor!" Betty called home.  Mirriam answered.

   "Renee went into labor!" said Betty.  "She wanted me to find Bobby and
tell him.  Is he there?"

   "No," said Mirriam.  "I'll take care of everything."

   Betty hung up and set about making sure the children were still fine. 
She had her hands full until Rhonda got there.

   After that, she thought about her big brother ...  and his relationship
with Renee some more.

   =================================

   Matilda went into the labor room with Renee.  This was the first time to
be in this situation for both of them, and both were nervous and scared.

   Matilda felt much better when her mother arrived, and shooed her out,
telling her to go back to work.

   ===============================

   Back at Renee's childcare center, the topic of conversation was obvious.
Neither twin had been present when a woman's water broke, so that was
discussed (and cleaned up).  Then the fact that the first person Renee had
asked for was Bobby came up.

   Rhonda was taking care of the babies, while the twins played with the
older children and kept them busy.

   "Why do you think the first person she asked for was Bobby?" asked
Betty.

   "I've been thinking about that," said Matilda.  "She kisses him
sometimes."

   "Lots of women kiss him," said Betty, breaking up an argument over a
toy.

   "Have you ever noticed that the women who kiss him all have babies?"

   Betty stood up.  Matilda's meaning was obvious.  Betty frowned, trying
to remember all the times she'd seen a woman hug or kiss Bobby.  Two of the
women she thought of were Mary and Bev.  She shook her head.

   "It can't be that," said Betty.  "Not with them all."

   Chapter Eight

   Jill walked through the door that was so familiar, and yet so strange.
Always before, when she'd walked through this door, it had been to go to
work.  It had been to put on an apron, and serve Sal's customers, make them
happy, and hope for good tips in return.

   Now that door seemed like something from a dream, long past.  The dream
intensified as the door pushed open and the smells of the diner hit her
nose.  She marveled at the sensations, trying to remember getting to smell
that delicious aroma every day.  She was somewhat saddened when she
realized she'd taken that for granted back then.

   Sal looked over, and his face rippled through a couple of unidentifiable
emotions before he smiled.

   "'Bout time you came back to get a decent meal," he said, trying to
bluster.

   Jill stared at him, looking so familiar in his own apron, stained with
various food items.  She realized she had taken him for granted too.  She'd
never really looked at him as a man.  He was just ...  Sal.  That had all
changed a mere half a month ago, when she had danced with him a dozen times
in the heat of the night.  He had still been Sal ...  but he had suddenly
been something else too.  She'd thought of him dozens of times since then.
He hadn't called.  She didn't know what that meant, but there was a subtle
disappointment there.  It was that that had brought her into the diner
again ...  and not the food.

   Still, she was unsure of herself.  When she was with Bobby, she could be
herself.  Bobby took her any way she wanted to present herself, from
blushing girl, to wanton slut.  Bobby just loved her, and he'd made her
feel truly alive again.  Dancing with Sal, she'd wondered how he looked at
her.  Part of her kept saying that he'd only asked her to dance ...  over
and over again ...  because he was being polite.

   Her mind dredged up an attitude from the past ...  an attitude that had
displayed itself here, in this place, on a fairly regular basis.

   "I haven't been sick for a long time," she said, grinning.  "I thought
I'd come by here and remember what it's like."

   "I am wounded!" moaned Sal, clutching at his chest.  "I thought you
liked working here."

   He was joking.  She knew that.  She knew that he knew she'd been joking
too, but it still didn't seem nearly as funny as it might have a year ago.

   "I didn't really mean that," she said, seriously.

   He looked surprised, and then vaguely uncomfortable.

   "I know." He fidgeted.  "Um ...  what can I get you?"

   About then the high school girl who had replaced Jill approached and
offered to seat Jill.

   "I just needed to talk to Sal for a minute," said the former waitress.

   She walked behind the counter, like she still worked there, and went to
stand in front of Sal.

   "How come you haven't called?" she asked, unable to think of anything
else to say.

   Sal's eyes darted around, for a single second or two, and his fingers
fluttered against his apron.

   "I didn't know I was supposed to," he said, looking scared, suddenly. 
It was a look she'd never seen on his face, and it looked wrong somehow.

   "I think you were," said Jill.

   Sal's eyes went round then, and he actually backed up a step.

   "You mean it?" he asked.

   "No, I just thought I'd come in here and tease you." It was difficult to
banish that old attitude, or the snide comments they had traded a hundred
times.  "Are you going to call me?" she asked.

   "Yes," he whispered.  He looked like he was ready to bolt for the door
any second.

   "I'm going home," she said as she pointed at the grill.  "That burger is
burning."

   She left, looking over her shoulder at him three times, watching him try
to salvage the meat on the grill, and look over his own shoulder at her. 
She felt a surge of something very close to joy at the look on his face.

   =====================================

   The twins were given even more to think about when Renee came home from
the hospital with her new son.t It wasn't that it was Bobby who brought her
home.  That didn't seem odd to them.  Nor did it seem odd that Renee was
almost jubilant, as she carried her son into the house.

   What made them look at each other, with that look that only twins can
trade, and which communicates much more than the looks that the rest of us
give each other, was when they got introduced to the cute little baby boy.
Renee uncovered his tiny face, and held him where both girls could see him.

   "I'd like you to meet Robert," said Renee, looking lovingly at the
scrunched up face, with the thick mop of coal black hair above it.  "Isn't
he just gorgeous?"

   ==============================

   It didn't take long, then.  As if they were waking up from a comfortable
dream, that they really didn't particularly want to wake up from, the twins
began to think about all the clues that had been all around them ...  for
years.  They worked for Renee ...  were around her all the time.  They knew
she wasn't seeing any men.  That she had gotten pregnant at all was one of
the clues they had ignored.

   It wasn't that they were stupid.  They just hadn't been paying any
attention to the world around them.  Not really.  They had had their own
little world of friends, and school, and family, and in that world, women
got pregnant.  It was just something that happened, as far as they were
concerned.  Their mother's friends got pregnant, without any particular man
being identified as the father, so an unamarried pregnant woman wasn't that
odd to them.  At the same time, the fact that women got pregnant WAS part
of their thinking, at least when it came to what they had done with Chuck,
their now ex-boyfriend.  That's why they had insisted he wear rubbers when
he fucked them.

   Now, though, their comfortable little world had changed.  It had shrunk,
a bit, which might explain why they paid more attention to what was going
on around them.  They didn't see all their friends from school, now that
they had graduated.  They weren't distracted by that part of their life any
more.  They worked with babies and children daily, now, for hours on end,
and saw the personalities of those children evolve, with the extended
exposure to them.

   With that came a heightened interest in those children, and other
children they saw, but didn't necessarily take care of.  And, with that
heightened interest, they looked at those children in different ways than
they had in the past.

   After learning that Renee's baby was named Robert, it was almost
impossible for them not to connect the fact that the only man Renee spent
much time with at all was ...  Bobby ...  whose formal name was ... 
Robert.

   The epiphany they shared was so bright, and so obvious, that they
disbelieved it, at first.  It was like they went for a walk in one of the
wheat fields they had worked in, as children, and were suddenly surrounded
by hundreds and hundreds of trees.  In this case, the trees were babies. 
There weren't hundreds and hundreds of them, but to take the tree analogy
perhaps a bit too far, they all seemed to be the same species ...  with the
same appearance.

   And when they started looking for the gardener who had planted all those
trees, the pool of possibilities was pretty small.  In fact, it was a
puddle, instead of a pool.

   That's what they couldn't believe.  They identified at least eleven boys
who looked startlingly like Bobby, now that they thought about it.  Two of
those boys were delivered by their older sisters.  One was delivered by
their mother.  And one, Kyle, had a twin sister, which meant that the
father of Kyle was also the father of Katherine.  That opened the can of
worms that was girls, and there were half a dozen of them who were born to
women who either had no husband, or who had a husband who didn't seem to
have given much to the appearance of their daughters.

   You can't just "accept" that your big brother has sired a dozen and a
half children, with more than a dozen women, none of whom he is married to,
and three of which his is related to by blood.

   They didn't argue about it.  They just pointed things out to each other,
and then traded off saying: "It can't be.  It just CAN'T BE!"

   And who do you ask, in that situation?  You can't just go up to your
mother and say: "Hey Mom, I was just wondering ...  Theodore looks an awful
lot like Bobby, and ...  well ...  did you, by chance, sort of have our
brother's baby?"

   They couldn't ask Mary either.  Her two boys looked completely
different. Besides, she was too much like their mother, in their eyes.

   And you can't go up to a woman you've known all your life, but who isn't
in your family, and just ask "Hey, did my big brother just happen to knock
you up?"

   Then there was Bev.  And they didn't want to ask her either.  It was
still too easy to believe it was all some kind of massive conclusion they
had jumped to, and they didn't want Bev to hate them forever for thinking
something was true that wasn't.

   That left Bobby.

   In the end, as they finally thought of just asking Bobby, they couldn't
believe they hadn't thought of that earlier.  Bobby was ...  well he was
just Bobby.  He was their big brother.  He did chores with them, hardly
ever bossed them around, played with them as kids, built things for them,
including their secret tree house that their other sisters still didn't
know about ...  he was just their big brother.  He wouldn't be mad if they
were wrong.  Somehow they just knew it.

   That was what led them to his bedroom door, on a hot night in late July,
after everybody else in the house was in bed for the night.

   ==============================

   Matilda turned the knob slowly.  There was light coming from under the
door.  She pushed the door open slowly, not wanting to knock, for some
reason.  Bobby's reading lamp was on, and there was a book lying on the
sheet.  It was summer, and that sheet was all that was on the bed, except
for the book.

   "Where is he?" asked Betty, from behind her.

   "The light wasn't on in the bathroom," pointed out Matilda.  "Maybe he's
getting a snack.  We'll just wait."

   Ten minutes later, they got tired of waiting, and went to the kitchen,
which was dark and empty.  Only one other light was on in the whole house,
and that sent dim beams under their mother's door.  They could hear the
faint sound of voices from inside.  It had to be Bobby in there with her.

   At that point, habit took over.  They had been taught to knock, but
Mamma's room was different, somehow.  Mamma was always alone.  If her light
was on, she was awake.  Why knock?

   They found out when they pushed that door open, and saw their naked
mother, sitting upright, looking up at the ceiling, her mouth open and her
eyes tightly shut.  She looked like she was screaming, but only a long, low
groan came from her mouth.  Bobby's fingers were pulling at both her
nipples, stretching her breast flesh out until those breasts looked
pointed, like a pair of very strange dunce caps or something.  Bobby was
naked too.  His head rolled, and his blue eyes stared at the intruders.

   So quickly that it seemed like a snake, his right hand let go of the
nipple it was holding.  The breast snapped back to its normal shape, and
that hand whipped toward the two astonished girls, bending at the wrist,
and then flipping toward them again.  The meaning was as instantly clear as
if their brother had barked: "Leave!"

   Then his hand, still moving so fast it was almost a blur went to his
face, and his index finger pressed to his lips, a silent caution for them
to leave quietly.  Only the fact that her fingers were between the door and
the jamb stopped it from slamming shut, as Matilda's butt backed into her
sister and she pulled the door closed.  She gulped breath, to keep a scream
of pain inside, and extracted her fingers.  Paying particular attention to
the door, instead of the pain, she closed the door as quietly as she could.
Then she danced, trying to be silent, shaking her fingers and moaning
softly.

   Betty wanted to talk, but Matilda pushed her.  Somehow they ended up
back in Bobby's room, where the light was on.  It only took half a minute
for the pain in Matilda's fingers to subside to the point where she turned
to her still speechless sister and said: "It's true!"

   For the twins, what they had seen was received as validation for ALL
their suspicions.  Just as, only moments before, they could NOT believe
that Bobby was the father of all those babies ...  right now, the scales
tipped hard in the other direction.  This, though, was uncharted water, and
both of them felt like they were floating in a vast ocean, with no land in
sight.  It was really that that kept them in his room, sitting on the edge
of his bed.  They no longer knew how to navigate, or what direction in
which to swim.

   "What do we do?" It was Betty who finally spoke.

   "I don't know." Matilda sounded as lost as Betty felt.

   It took another half hour before they recovered enough to realize that
Bobby didn't appear to be coming back any time soon.  The image of their
mother, looking astonishingly sexual - something neither girl had ever
imagined before - kept bounding around in their heads.

   Finally, they crept back to their room.  They didn't turn on a light,
but got into bed instead.

   "I wish Chuck was here," whispered one.

   "Me too," whispered the other.

   ====================================

   His mother had needed him badly, tonight.  Bobby knew that, because she
had come to his room, and just stood in the door.  She had done that only
twice before.  Usually, it was he who went to her room, and walked in. 
When he did that, he saw a range of emotions on her face, but she never
told him to leave.

   On nights like this, he knew she would need a lot of loving, and that's
what he had given her.  She had moaned her way through four orgasms - was
in the middle of her fourth - when the twins opened the door.  He had
known, somehow, that it would not be good if she knew they had been
observed.  Mary knew about them, and Flo and Suzie.  Some of the others
might suspect, but it had never been talked about.  Mamma pretended no one
knew, except Prudence, but since Prudence also let him between her legs,
now and then, that was all right.

   So he had waved them away, and been very thankful that they'd done what
he told them to do.  Mamma had gone on for a fifth orgasm, and had a sixth
and seventh when he rolled her over and lunged into her, slamming his prick
deep, before finally spending himself next to her womb.

   Even then she had clung to him, not talking.  She had wanted kisses, and
he had given them to her until he stiffened again.  Her whispers of "I love
you," had been soft in his ears, as he made love much more gently with her.
She hadn't even tried for an orgasm then, just loving the feeling of him
stroking in her, and telling him how much she loved that.  He had cum in
her again, almost overwhelmed by the love her lips poured into his ears,
and her hands expressed all over his body.

   She would have let him stay the night, but he knew he had to talk to the
twins, so with a final long kiss, he said he was going to the bathroom.  He
knew she'd be asleep before he got back, if that's what he really meant to
do, so he tucked her in and left.  Her eyes were already heavy.  The smile
on her face was one of the most wonderful things he'd ever seen.

   His light was on, and his door was open, but the twins weren't there. 
He went as silently down the hall as the squeaky boards would let him, but
when he pushed open their door, he could clearly hear the deep, slow
breathing that told him they were asleep.

   He decided to wait until morning.

   =======================================

   Constance opened her eyes to the morning light.  The first thing she
thought about was Tim.  That was still the way it was.  Then she thought
about having to get up and going to work.  Finally, she thought about the
fact that Bobby had said he'd set aside Saturday, the next day, to spend
some time with her.

   It was the thoughts of Bobby that got her up and out of bed.  Once up,
she was all right.  Getting ready for work was a habit, now, and she didn't
have to think about that.  Work would take care of itself.  She didn't want
to think about Tim.  So she thought about Bobby, and the next day, instead.

   =====================================

   Mirriam was up and gone to work when the twins woke up, though they
didn't know that then.  Full of a strange energy, they bounced out of bed
and almost ran to the kitchen, where the smell of bacon and eggs was coming
from.  Both wondered what it would be like to see their mother, simply
cooking breakfast, after the way they had seen her the night before.

   Both stopped in their tracks as Bobby's broad back was exposed to them,
when they came around the corner and into the doorway.  He seemed like a
stranger to them, suddenly.

   "It's almost ready." His voice came without him turning his head.

   He sounded so normal.  But nothing was normal anymore.  This ...  man
... this ...  person they had known for so long, but felt like they didn't
know at all ...  was standing there doing something they'd seen him do a
hundred times.  He finally looked over his shoulder.

   "Either run away, or sit down," he said calmly.

   Everyone thought the twins were as identical to each other as they
looked.  That wasn't true, though.  Matilda was the elder, and she was the
leader, in those few situations where whatever action was called for wasn't
quite clear.  She walked in and sat down.  Betty followed.

   The man put plates in front of them, and then dropped forks on the
table, with what seemed like loud clangs.

   "Milk or juice?" asked their big brother, just as normal as pie.

   Neither could speak.  He LOOKED like their big brother...

   He got a glass of each for them both, and then juice for himself.  He
sat down, across from them.

   "Well?"

   He sounded like their big brother, just then, like he had sounded in the
past when he caught them doing something they weren't supposed to do, and
was demanding an explanation.  Usually he got one; because they had learned
that if they confessed all to him, it rarely went any further.

   "We were looking for you," mumbled Matilda, out of pure reflex.

   "You found me."

   "Boy, did we!" yipped Betty, unable to keep it in.

   They sat there.  Bobby sipped his juice.  Finally he ordered "Eat!"

   It was a small thing that broke the stalemate.  Of all the girls, the
twins were the ones who ate the least.  That probably accounted for their
slim body shapes.  But it was practically routine for them to take more
than they actually wanted, and it was also routine for Bobby to pick up the
slack.

   He reached across the table and lifted a piece of bacon from Betty's
plate, taking a bite of it, and chewing slowly.  It was SO normal that the
girls relaxed.

   "Is Theodore your baby?" asked Matilda, suddenly.

   "Yes," he said, reaching for a piece of bacon from Matilda's plate too.

   His voice was so casual.  It was like he was saying "Yeah, that's my
shirt."

   "And Kyle and Katherine?" Betty stopped, with her fork halfway to her
mouth.

   "Yes."

   Another forty-five seconds went by before it was Matilda's turn.

   "Robert?"

   "Uh huh." He picked up one of the two pieces of toast he had put on
Betty's plate, and took a bite.

   "And Stevie?" Betty sounded almost interested now, and less shocked.

   "He's mine too."

   Matilda put her fork down and sat up straight.

   "Andrew Thompson?" She took a breath.  "Christopher ...  and Jordan?"

   He only nodded this time.

   "ALL of them?" Betty asked, helplessly.

   "Not quite all," he said softly.

   "But how?" Betty's voice went up at least an octave.

   He finally smiled.  "I think you know how."

   This, again, was Bobby.  He didn't tell her she was stupid.  He just
teased a little.

   "When did all this happen?" It was Matilda's turn to sound helpless.

   Bobby stood up to get more juice.

   "I thought you knew.  Everybody else seems to know.  Even Suzie knows."

   "You did it with HER?!" squeaked Betty.

   He grinned.  "No, not with Suzie.  She didn't want that."

   It wasn't hard to figure out that his specific mention of Suzie, by
herself, suggested that all their other sisters ...  ALL their other
sisters ...  had done the same thing with him that they had seen him doing
with their mother last night.

   "All of our sisters?" Matilda's oice was weak.

   "Except Suzie," he admitted.  "And you two, of course.  Neither of you
ever showed any interest that way."

   "You mean they ...  asked?!" Matilda was astounded.

   "Mary did," he said.  "Bev did too, after she caught us.  And Linda,
kind of.  It was complicated.  Whenever somebody caught me with one of the
others, they had to kiss me, so they couldn't tattle." He looked genuinely
contrite.  "I guess they liked kissing me, and wanted more."

   The twins could understand that.  That's how it had started with Chuck.
Kissing was fun.  The other stuff was more fun.  But kissing ...  Bobby?

   "You don't have to kiss me," he said, as if he were giving them
important information.  "Who would you tattle to?"

   He had a point.

   "Do they all know about ...  Mamma?" That was Betty.

   "Some know, and I imagine some suspect," he answered.

   "And they just ...  let you?" That was Betty again.

   "I never did anything to any of them that they didn't agree to," said
Bobby solemnly.  "Like I said, some of them asked me to."

   "I can't believe that!" squealed Betty.  "Why would they ASK you to get
them pregnant?!"

   "Oh ...  that," said Bobby, understanding that her previous question had
been about the pregnancies, and not just the lovemaking.  "That wasn't
really ...  um ...  exactly planned, I guess.  Not with Mary and Bev.  I
don't think Linda planned it either.  She was kind of mad at Paul when that
happened, and she stopped taking her pills."

   "Were ANY of them planned?" Now it was Matilda who sounded ... 
interested.

   "Not with my sisters," he admitted.  "Not Mamma either, but some other
women wanted that."

   "Wow!"

   They said it in unison.

   That was pretty much it, for that morning.  The twins had received much
more information in the last twelve or so hours than they could assimilate,
without talking it through, as was their habit.  Bobby said he had
something to do, and left, which left them with plenty of time to talk.

   =================================

   What Bobby had to do that day was take Constance to Kansas City, where
he showed her some of the things he'd seen while there with Felicity.  They
spent the majority of the day in the Nelson Art Gallery, on the Plaza,
where both of them stood, amazed, at what was on display.  They knew about
art, of course.  But they'd never seen it like this.

   On the way back to Granger they tried to find a radio station that had
songs they knew, and could sing along with.  When he delivered her to her
mother's house, she took his hand as they walked up to the door.

   "I can't tell you how much fun that was," she said.

   "Good."

   "Was this a date, Bobby?" she asked, suddenly.

   "I don't know," he said.  "Do you want it to have been a date?"

   "I want to kiss you," she said.  "That makes me feel weird.  But if it
was a date, maybe not so weird."

   "You've kissed me before," he said, his voice neutral.

   "Not since Tim."

   "Ahhh." His voice held understanding.  "Tell you what.  When you're
ready, I'll kiss you."

   "Do you want to kiss me?"

   "Did I want to kiss you last time?"

   She thought about that.  It seemed like it was eons ago that his lips
had touched hers.  But the memory of that first kiss was just as stark and
clear as it was possible to be.  That he had wanted to kiss her then ... 
that his kiss had communicated that without any doubt ...  was a memory she
would never forget.

   "You did," she said.

   "And what has changed?" he asked.

   "Everything has changed," she moaned.

   "Not that."

   He did kiss her then, but only on the forehead.

   "We going to do this again?" he asked.

   "Go out like this?"

   "Uh huh."

   "I think ...  yes."

   Chapter Nine

   Another couple left Granger that day, to travel to another town and
spend some time together.

   Sal, looking obviously groomed, picked Jill up and drove her to Wichita,
to a restaurant that was as different from the Wagon Wheel as Mogen David
is from Dom Perignon.

   Jill, of course, was delighted to be wined and dined like this, even
though poor Sal looked so uncomfortable in his suit.  That he had gone to
this extent meant a lot to her.  That he was obviously uncomfortable in the
sumptuous surroundings of the ritzy restaurant, and that he had done this
for her, made her want to wiggle.

   The meal was fantastic.  While Sal might be ill-fitted to this kind of
place, he knew food.  She accepted his recommendation for a menu item, and
let him order for her.  She found it to be delicious, even though she
wasn't sure what it all was.

   "I wish I could cook like this," sighed Sal, leaning back, when they
were done.

   "I like your cooking," said Jill.  "You make the best chicken fried
steak in the county."

   He smiled.  "It's not quite up to par with this."

   "I would have been just as happy if you'd fixed me chicken fried steak,
and some of those potatoes you fry up so perfectly," she said.

   "Thanks," said her former boss.  "You want to take in a movie?"

   "I don't think so."

   "What do you want to do, then?"

   "How long have I known you?" asked Jill.

   He looked surprised, and frowned.  "I don't know.  Four or five years?"

   "I've known you that long, and I've never seen your house.  I don't even
know where you live."

   "It's just a house," said Sal.

   "Maybe," she said, folding her napkin and putting it on her plate.  "I
still want to see it, though."

   =====================================

   Jill looked over at Sal as he drove them back to Granger.  He was like a
little boy, in many ways, sweet and bashful.  That had been a surprise to
her when he had asked her to dance that night in the square.  He had
obviously worked up his courage to cut in and dance with her.  That was one
reason she had wanted to dance with him again.

   She had always viewed Sal as a big teddy bear kind of guy, who
blustered, but didn't really mean it, who teased, but never cruelly.  All
the time her belly had swelled, before she quit the diner and went to work
with Christy, he had never once asked her about it, or made any comments.
While others had looked askance at her, or frowned, or left smaller tips
(or no tip), he had treated her like he always had.

   "Can I ask you a question?" She spoke softly.

   "Sure." His eyes glanced at her briefly, but then went back to the road.

   "Why did you ask out a single woman, who had a child out of wedlock?"

   "I think 'single woman' is the operative part of that situation," he
said, smiling.

   "Most men wouldn't be interested in a woman who had a child like that."

   "Steven's going to be a great kid," said Sal.  "He has a great mom."

   "That's another thing," said Jill.  "All the time I worked for you, you
never showed any interest in me."

   He looked at her longer this time, and laughed.

   "Are you kidding?  I was flirting with you all the time."

   "Yeah, but that was just ..." Suddenly, she wasn't sure what that ... 
just was.  "You never asked me out or anything."

   "You were kind of mad at men," he said.  "I didn't think you were
interested."

   "I wasn't," she admitted.  "Not then."

   "Then, when you got pregnant, I knew you really were still interested,"
said Sal.  "But it was too late, then."

   "No it wasn't," said Jill.  "That man ...  it's difficult to explain ...
but he doesn't have a claim on me."

   "Then he's an idiot," said Sal.

   He pulled into his driveway, which suspended the conversation.  His
house was a small two bedroom place, with clapboard siding, probably in
excess of fifty years old.  It was well used, but neatly kept.

   "I wasn't planning on visitors," he said, as he helped her out of the
car.  "I'm kind of a messy housekeeper."

   "I'm not here to judge your housekeeping," she said.

   He stopped.  "Why ARE you here?"

   She was standing closer to him than most people find comfortable, but
she wasn't uncomfortable at all.

   "I'm not quite sure yet."

   He didn't know what that meant, but took her inside, bending over to
pick up a couple of things off the floor, once they got inside.  One of
them was a bright purple pair of boxer shorts, with little dinosaurs on
them.  He flushed pink as she looked at them.

   "How cute!" She giggled.

   "They were on sale," he mumbled.

   On impulse she snatched them out of his hand, and held them up.

   "They were made for a man, not a little boy," she noted.

   He grabbed at them, but she jerked them out of his reach.  He reached
around her, as she laughed, and tried to keep them away from him.  She
twisted in his arms, putting her hands ...  and the shorts ...  behind him.

   Then, again on impulse, she kissed him.

   =====================================

   While Jill was kissing her former employer, at his house, Bobby and
Betty were at the farm, mowing the yard.  Mowing had been a two-person job
for years, mostly because the labor pool at the farm had been big enough
that lots of chores were viewed as multiple-person chores.

   In this case, Betty was pushing the mower, while Bobby pulled weeds, and
trimmed around trees with an old fashioned weed whip.  His shirt was off,
and his arms swung back and forth in a smooth rhythm, as he made golf-like
swings with the tool, lopping off taller grass with each swing.  Bits of
grass clung to his sweaty torso.

   Matilda brought a tray loaded with glasses full of ice cubes, and a
pitcher of lemonade out of the house, just as Betty leaned over and pushed
the metal spring that cut off the mower by grounding the magneto to the
engine.

   Now that Linda had moved out completely, things were quieter than ever.
Suzie had elected to stay in Manhattan, and work a summer job there. 
Mirriam was at work.

   The twins had talked many times about their big brother, since finding
out about his sexual exploits.  Having been exposed to the limited joys of
sex, by Chuck, and not having many men to choose from in the small town,
they were a bit frustrated.  They loved their jobs, and college held no
special call to them.

   But the fact was ...  they were horny.  And they knew that their big
brother had had sex with at least three of their sisters.

   That knowledge affected them in mysterious ways.  They had never thought
of Bobby as a possible sexual partner.  To be truthful, they hadn't
actually thought of anybody other than Chuck as a potential sexual partner.
They hadn't actually set out to become sexual beings.  It had just
happened. They had been swept up in the winds of emotion and passion, and
let those winds carry them along.  They also knew that what Bobby had done
was incest.

   Yet, knowing that it had happened still didn't make it seem real to
them. As they looked back on things, Mary, Bev and Linda had always acted
completely normal.  There had been nothing that advertised the fact that
they let Bobby do to them, what the twins had actually SEEN him doing to
their mother.

   Even what they had seen with their own eyes didn't seem real.  That was
because, both before and after that night, their mother had seemed
completely normal to them.  The next day, when they saw her, she was just
...  Mamma.

   Their impression of "incest" just didn't match with what they had
experienced in real life.  Nothing had blown up.  Nobody had been irate or
unhappy.  The babies were all as normal as could be, and the twins loved
everybody involved.

   It was that normalcy that affected them more than anything else.

   As they stood, two of them sweating heavily, and all of them drinking
iced lemonade, Matilda stared at the muscles on her brother's shiny, wet
chest.  Chuck had muscles ...  but not like these.  She remembered Chuck's
weight on her, as he lunged and rutted.  Bobby looked heavier.

   "Are you ever going to fuck us, like you fucked Mary and the others?"
she asked suddenly.

   Bobby snorted, in the middle of swigging lemonade, and two drips
appeared in his nostrils.  Other than that, he didn't show the shock he
felt at the sudden question.  For whatever reason, perhaps because of the
difference in their ages, he still thought of the twins as "little girls".
He took a look at Matilda, and noticed there wasn't anything "little" about
her anymore.  His glance shifted to Betty, whose shirt was clinging to her
torso.  When had she grown those breasts?  Then his mind caught up with
things.

   "I didn't fuck them," he said, suppressing the urge to cough.  His nose
was still full of lemonade.  "I made love with them."

   "Isn't it all the same thing?" Matilda was very pragmatic in her general
outlook.

   "If you fuck someone, you do something TO them," said Bobby.  "If you
make love, you do something WITH them."

   Matilda frowned.  She saw the difference, academically, but not
emotionally.  Her experience with Chuck was actually a series of incidents,
in which she was striving for something ...  an orgasm.  That Chuck would
spurt was a given.  In her mind, sex was the challenge of getting what you
wanted, before you lost the chance.

   "Besides," said Bobby.  "You're kind of young, don't you think?" For the
same reason he thought of them as "little girls" he couldn't imagine they
had already been sexually active.

   "We're eighteen, you big turd!" snapped Matilda, trying to establish her
status as an adult, and ruining it by sounding like a whiny teenager.

   "Sex is complicated." Bobby used his big brother voice.  "You need to be
in the right place in your life before you start thinking about sex."

   The look the twins gave each other should have alerted Bobby that
something was going on, but he missed that look.  He missed it because he
was thinking about the times his twin sisters had gone out with that kid
who picked them up.  He hadn't thought of that as "dates", exactly.  He had
assumed they met up with another boy, or whatever.  The girls never talked
about that guy, or any other guys.  They hadn't seemed to be enamored with
any boys.  Matilda's sudden question, though, suggested she was thinking
about things on an entirely different level than Bobby had thought she was.

   "What ever happened to that guy you two were hanging around with?" he
asked.  "Chuck?  Wasn't it Chuck something?"

   "We broke up with him," said Betty.  "He was a jerk."

   "Broke up with him?" Bobby looked puzzled.

   "He was our boyfriend, for a while," said Betty.

   "Both of you?" Bobby's eyes widened.

   "Sure," she chirped.  "Why not?  We both liked him."

   Bobby grinned, thinking of how Chuck, or whatever his name was, must
have reacted to that.  He knew how hard it was to keep two women happy at
the same time.  He still didn't realize just how happy they had tried to
get Chuck to make them.

   "Well, anyway, I don't think you two are ready for something like that."

   "Why not?" Matilda jutted out her jaw.  "We're not virgins, you know."

   Had Bobby been drinking, he would have snorted more lemonade.

   "You're not." He said it, his voice flat.  The idea of some boy lying on
top of either of these "little girls" did not make him happy.

   Matilda looked at Betty, who shot her a look that was clearly
understood. It wasn't a happy look.  Their secret had been divulged.

   "We just did it a couple of times," said Matilda.

   "With Chuck." His voice was still flat.

   "He was our boyfriend," said Matilda, nervously.  She had seen that look
on Bobby's face before, and it had never boded well.

   "Both of you."

   "Of course," Matilda said weakly.  "He was our boyfriend."

   "I should spank you both!" he barked.  "You could have gotten pregnant!"

   "Nuh uh!" argued Matilda.  "We made him use a rubber."

   "Well thank goodness for small favors," said Bobby darkly.

   "Why are you being this way?" asked Betty.  "You did it with Mary, and
Bev and Linda, and probably Flo too!"

   "All of them were going to get married," he said.  Like most men, his
memory was somewhat selective, sometimes.  "Are you two ready to get
married?"

   "No," they said in tandem, automatically.

   Matilda thought of something.

   "So, if they were going to get married, why did they do it with you,
instead of waiting to do it with their husbands?"

   Bobby almost groaned.  "It was complicated.  Mary was afraid that her
honeymoon would go badly if she didn't know what to expect.  It was like
that a little bit with Bev too.  And Linda had broken up with Paul, and was
frustrated."

   "We broke up with Chuck!" Betty pointed out instantly.

   Bobby knew what it was like to argue with the twins.  Their thought
processes were different than those of the rest of his sisters.  He knew
how stubborn they were, and he knew that arguing with them wasn't going to
be productive.

   "I don't think you're ready for that," he said, his voice steady. 
"That's how I feel.  So no.  I'm not going to do that.  Got it?"

   "We'll tell Mamma!" yipped Matilda.  Almost instantly she realized how
stupid that sounded, since he was fucking their mother too.

   "If you think I won't take you over my knee, just because you think
you're all grown up, you are mistaken," said Bobby.  He didn't move, but
Matilda stepped back from him anyway.  "I'll do it, and you won't be able
to sit down for a week.  You tell Mamma anything you want to, but don't
threaten me."

   He turned and left, taking his glass with him.  It wouldn't do any good
to stay there.

   ===============================

   Jill pulled back from the kiss with Sal.  It had taken a few seconds,
but he had then kissed her back.  Right now, he had a
deer-in-the-headlights look about him.

   "Wow," he whispered.

   She felt her body pressed against his.  He had a bit of a paunch, but it
wasn't uncomfortable.  It kind of fit below her breasts, and above her
hips.

   "Kiss me again," she said.

   His eyes fluttered, but he did so.  It was a very nice kiss.

   "You're a good kisser," she said, when it was over.

   "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he sighed.

   "Why didn't you?"

   His face went from slack-jawed relaxation to shock.

   "You would have belted me one," he said.

   "Not if you would have kissed me like that." She cocked her head and
stared into his eyes.  "What else are you good at?" She gave her loins just
a tiny push, against his.

   His eyes went wide.  "You mean it?" he gasped.

   Her answer was to kiss him again ...  and push a little harder.

   =================================

   The twins WERE stubborn.  They talked after Bobby left them.  They
decided he was being "a turd".

   So, in their relative innocence, they decided to seduce him.

   That night, they wore T shirts instead of nightgowns, and left off their
bras and panties under them.  They flashed their butts at him, when their
mother wasn't looking.

   They thought they were being sexy and clever.

   Bobby ignored them.

   =============================

   Jill was reading a story to Jillian and Steven, who were just over two
years old.  Bobby was in the bedroom with Christy.  It had actually been
Jill's turn, that night, but she had told Christy to go ahead.

   That was because, after she had kissed Sal the third time, a few nights
previously, it had turned into something wild ...  something unplanned ...
and something she was ecstatic about.

   Sal was a completely different kind of lover than Bobby.  Bobby
pleasured her ...  played her like an instrument, and she had loved that
each time he had done so.  Bobby slaked her thirst.  Sal had needed her. 
It had been there in everything he had said and done.  He had made it
crystal clear that he thought he was the luckiest man alive, as they
tumbled into bed and made wildly passionate love.

   His technique had been different, but she didn't care, because he gave
it everything he had.  They actually knew each other well, on many levels.
Not on this level, though.  This was something new and explosive between
them.  Sal's passion had been held behind a dam of polite aloofness, and
when she cracked that dam, what burst forth almost consumed her.  Never had
she felt so loved and needed.  Never had a man almost worshiped her.  Never
had a man expressed his love like Sal did.

   She had gone back to see him the next night, and they had done it all
over again.

   Now, as she read, she wondered if Bobby's feelings would be hurt, when
she told him it wasn't right for her to give him what Sal now deserved.

   An hour later, she relaxed, as Bobby grinned, and took her hands in his.

   "I'm happy for you," he said.  His eyes told her he meant it.  "Sal's a
good guy.  He deserves you."

   It wasn't until he was gone, that Jill realized she would always love
him in some way.  Things had changed, a little, but she knew they were
still very, very good.

   ===============================

   Janet Griswold lay on her bed, naked.  Six months ago she would never
have thought of doing that ...  lying around naked.

   Now, as her hands went in small circles, covering the gentle swell of
her belly, in which new life was growing, she almost preferred to be naked.

   She had grown to love that swollen belly.  Initially, she had thought
she was crazy to let Bobby get her pregnant.  She thought it was a mistake
...  the height of foolishness.  There had been a month after she knew that
she hadn't called him.  But, as the reality of it sank in, and her body
began to respond to what had happened, she couldn't help but be fascinated
by it all.  And she missed what was now available to her from Bobby.  She
called him again, and he made her feel wonderful again.

   He was the one who had caressed her belly, in the beginning.  The
tenderness, as he spoke to his unborn child, and stroked its enclosure,
made her feel like a precious piece of art, in which something beautiful
was being displayed.  As she began to show, and he wasn't there, she
stroked their baby's enclosure too, and talked to her.  She had decided it
must be a girl in there.  She didn't know why.  It just was.

   People were staring at her these days.  She knew that.  She didn't care.
They had talked about her behind her back ever since the divorces.  What
did it matter what they thought?  They wouldn't give her the time of day,
whether she was pregnant or not.

   No ...  this was much better.  She stroked the unborn child inside her,
and smiled.

   "I can't wait to meet you," she said softly.  "I'm going to be so proud
of you.  You're going to be clever and beautiful, and grow up to be an
important woman.  I just know it.  I love you already."

   Eventually, she covered them with a sheet, and slept.

   ==================================

   Janet's sleep is a good place to let us rest from the story.  It
continues in the next book.  For now, let us all relax, and be thankful for
the joys in our lives ...  our lovers ...  our children ...  and the hopes
and dreams we share with them.
   The End


  
gigolo12_Janet_all