Debbie and Robby have secretly played in the mysterious abandoned mansion
next door for most of their lives.  Now, as they keep their own flowering
sexuality secret, the house begins to give up some of its secrets.  Then
their world is turned upside down when a stranger arrives, exposing even
more secrets about their mother, himself, and even them.  

Codes: MF mf Mf mF rom 1st teen cons inc bro sis het oral solo pett preg

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

   A Haunting Love 

By Beating Off Bob  (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

   The house stood dark in the moonlight, among tangled undergrowth that
had once been an expanse of shrubs, carefully tended flower gardens and
lawns.  Old mossy trees loomed around its perimeter, stretching their
bare-looking arms up into the sky as if begging for some release from
terrible torture.  Smaller trees had volunteered to fill the empty space
around the three-and-a-half story structure, which had been built during
the American Civil War, over a hundred years now past.

   Built in the Victorian style, the house had many gables and a tower that
reached into the sky like it was some attempt to reach the stars.  While
the windows were intact, they were dark and had been dark for more years
than most in the little town of Nettleton could remember.  Scraps of white
showed through the grimy glass, remnants of window coverings that seemed to
move in the wind occasionally, even though the wind couldn't reach them. 
Like sightless eyes, the the windows stared out at the world, and hid what
might be inside.  No paint remained to give life or color to the exterior
of the gloomy place and what, in daylight, was a uniform gray, appeared as
a mottled collection of shadows in the weak light of the quarter moon.

   While all appeared to be lifeless in and around the old mansion, there
were a multitude of sounds about the place; creaks and groans and popping
noises as if the tired structure was shifting its weight on the stony
ground.  Tree branches rubbed against each other in the breeze and a number
of creatures provided a soft susurration of noise as they struggled to stay
alive in their daily routines of hunting food and avoiding predators.

   Many in the town that surrounded the Nettleton Mansion believed that its
builders, after which the town was named, still roamed the rooms and
staircases of the old place, even though they had been dead and buried for
decades.

   The fact that four of the exotic old building's residents had been
murdered over its long and painful history was responsible for the belief
that it was haunted.  That, and those flutters of movement in the dark
windows, among other things.

   One death was an attempt to separate Jeramiah Nettleton, from a
significant portion of his wealth, in the form of trying to kidnap his 12
year old son.  The boy fought and was strangled during the incident.  Two
men were caught, one of which had the boy's pocket watch on him.  Both were
hanged from an oak branch on a tree that still grew on the property.

   Forty years later Joshua Nettleton's wife, Constance, was found murdered
in her bedroom, stabbed repeatedly by an obviously angry and demented
person.  When her almost decapitated body was discovered, she was naked,
and her clothing was neatly stacked on a sideboard nearby.  Her gardener
was accused of accosting her and, when she tried to resist the rape, he was
believed to have killed her in a fit of anger.  The gardener was also
hanged, though in this case, from a proper gallows in the town square.

   And, in 1931 both Roger and Elizabeth Nettleton had been murdered in
their sleep.  Investigation revealed that the murderers, when they were
caught with the family silver, admitted that they had been hired to kill
the whole family by Roger's business partner, who would have then inherited
the entire mining operation.  The men confessed that they hadn't been able
to find the children in the house, and had therefore taken what they could
carry and taken off.  In fact, it was the two children, ages four and six
at the time, who had raised the hue and cry by appearing in a servant's
room in the carriage house, soaked with blood.  That resulted in the bodies
being found, and the murderers being pursued and caught.  The children
couldn't talk very well at that age, and all the questioners could get out
of them was that they had been in the tower room and had heard screams. 
The fact that the only route from that room to the outside led right by
where their parents were being killed, and the fact that the children were
too young to understand that the reason Mommy wouldn't get up was because
she was dead, just made things more mysterious.

   That mystery was also solved.  The robbers were caught red handed. 
Technology had advanced by then, and the criminals, to include one Chauncey
Fallworthy, the mastermind of the horrific crime, were electrocuted instead
of being hanged.

   The children were removed from the sad place and fostered until their
majority, but in the decades since the murders no Nettleton had returned to
the place.  It had too many sad and painful memories.

   Including the criminals, eight people associated with the place in one
way or another had died violent deaths.

   But, banks being what they are, managed the already existing trust fund
set aside to take care of taxes, and produced the required funds each year,
duly transferred to the county.  And, county governments being what they
are, the funds were received and disbursed.  County commissioners didn't
care where the tax money came from.  They just wanted to spend it.

   There were only a very few people who knew what had happened to the
Nettleton fortune that had resulted from sharp investments and savvy
supervision of a mining empire.

   Most of those who knew worked at the bank, but they were not willing to
part with that information lightly.  There were no heirs other than the two
sad children, so people drew their own conclusions.

   The property sat and decayed.  Various teenagers tried to get in,
probably on a dare, or in an attempt to establish a makeout haven, but the
wrought iron fence that completely surrounded the property had been made
specifically to keep people out.  And, after the last murders, someone had
gone to great lengths to securely board up the lower windows and doors,
foiling casual attempts to plunder or engage in other mischievousness. 
Various people in town swore they'd seen mysterious lights through the
grimy windows in the house, on dark nights, over the years and, though
there was no data to support it, most townspeople thought of the place as
haunted.  It was easy for those who swore, over the years, that they saw
movement in the boarded up house, to believe that unhappy spirits roamed
the dark place.

   One attempt at raising the property taxes had been made, years ago, but
had failed.  The current absentee owner, one Robert Ellsworth Nettleton,
who was one of those sad children fostered after his parents' murder, and
whom almost no one in town had ever met, fought off that attempt.  No one
was beating down the doors to buy the place.  In that part of the state
land ...  that wasn't haunted ...  was plentily available.  The fact that
the town had been named for the mining baron who had originally built the
house was only a dim memory documented in dusty old papers in a box of
historical documents in the basement of the town library.

   Over the years, people began to think of "The Nettleton Mansion" as
having been named after the town ...  rather than the other way around. 
The haunted wreck was a thing of mild curiosity, mostly ignored as people
drove past its nearly invisible rusty iron fence, which was now screened by
a tangle of vegetation.  Only the imposing wrought iron gates were really
visible from the road any more, and beyond them a dim unpaved track that
was impassable to vehicles these days due to the three inch saplings that
were trying to fill the empty space.

   And so the old house sat and waited for something to happen.

   In some ways the house mirrored what had happened to Nettleton, the
town. When, as the ore veins were cleaned out and the operation began to be
less and less profitable, the miners were laid off, a few at a time, until
the mines finally closed for good in the late forties.  Nettleton lost
about half it's population in the process, and property values plummeted.
While that might have made it attractive to outsiders, there was nothing
else in the town to bring them there.

   The town, like the Nettleton mansion, slid slowly and almost gracefully
into a quiet decline.  Once a population equilibrium was reached, people
began to decide, on more or less a nationalistic basis, not to let the town
die completely.  A cold storage company was induced to buy one of the
larger mines and turn it into something that generated some badly needed
jobs and the wages that they provided.  During the fifties a manufacturing
plant was built, to get the tax incentives, and several other businesses
took advantage of the low cost of living in the area to produce goods that
were shipped to more lucrative markets.  Things had settled into a workable
little place where people liked to live, but which had no hope of ever
being in the lime light again.

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

   Debbie Franklin lay on her bed in her bedroom, staring at the ceiling.
She was bored.  She lay listening to Petula Clark, singing her new hit song
"Downtown" and scowled that, in Nettleton, there was no "Downtown" to go to
for the excitement the singer drew reference to.

   It was early summer between her junior and Senior year in High School
and she couldn't wait to be a Senior.  Due to her late birthday, she hadn't
been able to take Driver's Ed in her Junior year, like most kids did. 
While the State didn't require Driver's Ed to get a license, her mother
did. The way she thought of it, though, was that when school started again,
she'd turn sixteen and be able to get a license.  A license meant freedom
to Debbie and she yearned for freedom.  Living in Nettleton was, she had
decided several years ago, punishment of some kind, imposed on her,
probably by fate, and probably as a result of the fact that she loved to
masturbate.  It was 1965 and, despite the sexual revolution under way in
America, adults loved to classify self pleasure as a nasty habit that was
probably responsible for a variety of personal ailments and social ills.

   Debbie ignored all the warnings though.  Even though she was classified
by her friends and most adults as a "Tomboy", she loved nothing more than
the exquisite pain and thrills that her fingers frequently brought to her
as they teased the little bump between her slippery pussy lips that she had
only recently learned the proper name of.

   Debbie thought about masturbating now.  But she dismissed the idea.  She
preferred to be totally naked when she got those wonderful feelings, and it
was the middle of the afternoon.  While her mother, Ramona, was at work at
her job as a teller at the bank, Debbie's twin brother Robby was around
somewhere with his friend Mike.  He had a bad habit of just walking into
her room when he wanted to see her.  Privacy was a word he didn't seem to
understand.  And, while she wouldn't have minded her brother finding her
gyrating on the bed with her fingers stuck up in her, she sure didn't want
Mike to see that.

   Debbie sighed and got up off the bed.  She wandered to the window and
looked out at the forest next door.  Her eyes were drawn to the tall round
tower with it's conical cap that topped the old Nettleton mansion next
door.

   Unlike ...  and unknown to ...  most people in Nettleton, she was
intimately familiar with that old house.  Having lived next door to it
their whole lives, she and Robby had naturally explored the dark forest
surrounding it.  They had never heard the stories that caused most adults
in town to avoid the place and, to them, the forest was a magical place. 
The house was too, though it was a bit daunting and dark and ...  scary
somehow ...  at first.

   She thought back to some of the things that were imprinted indelibly in
her memory about the mysterious place next door.

   It was when they were about ten, and were playing in the forest that
they found "the secret".  There was an old root cellar behind the house,
off to one side of the sagging carriage house that had once held horses,
and still held an old carriage with only three wheels and rotted leather
seats.  Their tentative exploration of the overgrown cellar entrance was
the result of a fantasy that there must be gold in there, since it looked
like a mine to them.  Instead, when they had snitched a candle from home
and illuminated the dark hole, they had found that it had walls of brick,
covered by wooden shelves, which themselves were partially covered with
glass jars containing something dark and gelatinous that they knew had been
food at one time.  Their fantasy morphed into pretending that the gold had
been hidden in these jars of muck, since no one would think to look for it
there.  They only opened one, though.  The stink convinced them that this
particular daydream wasn't worth pursuing.

   But they had made the cellar into a hideout, where they could evade
various imagined bad men, or police seeking trespassers, or just be in a
place that was theirs alone, and which nobody else knew about.  They fixed
it up with old furniture found in the carriage house, and pillows and
blankets from home ...  a small hidden nest where they could disappear into
when they wanted to.

   And they kept it a secret from everyone.  They somehow knew their mother
would disapprove in the strongest terms if she found out they had found a
place they could slip through the fence that surrounded the Nettleton
Manor, as they had renamed it.

   But the cellar itself wasn't "the secret." It was while they were moving
things around in the root cellar that they had discovered "the secret."
Robby had been tugging on a tall rack of shelves, trying to break off a
piece of wood that he needed to put under an old overstuffed chair which
had only three stubby legs.  But instead of the board coming loose, the
whole shelf unit had, with a creaking groan, swung outward from the wall,
exposing a dark tunnel behind it.

   More candles were smuggled into the hideout and the tunnel was explored.
It was featureless, a tube of old, crumbling brick that led nowhere for
sixty feet to an oaken door with a thick iron ring on it instead of a knob.
Neither child, at only ten years of age, had been able to figure out how to
open the door.  It seemed to be stuck fast.  But their dreams of hidden
treasure were re-awakened and, for a week, they examined the door, which
was solid as a rock.  The close fitted planks of the door were held
together by thick iron straps with huge rivets holding them to the door. 
Hammers and screwdrivers, which were all the tools available to the
exploring siblings, made only dents and scratches.

   Debbie was the one who solved the mystery when, in frustration, she hit
one of the thick rivets with the hammer and the door made a grating,
popping sound and moved a quarter inch.

   It took the combined weight of both kids to pull on the ring and get the
door to move more.  Their excitement, aided by a little adrenaline, caused
the door to suddenly creak open, dumping both youths on their butts.  They
stared at the wooden steps beyond the door ...  steps covered in a thick
coating of dust ...  steps that led up ...  into the Nettleton Mansion.

   Fighting bouts of continuous sneezes brought on by dust that hadn't been
disturbed for decades, brother and sister held hands and climbed the steps.
They found themselves in a hallway of sorts, so narrow that they couldn't
walk side by side.  The expanse of wall, made only of boards butted
together and nailed from the other side of the walls to studs, extended
beyond the range of the two candles they had.

   They crept forward, afraid now for some unknown reason, until they came
to another door with a ring in it.  That one opened fairly easily when they
both pushed against it and they found themselves in a room that looked
startlingly like the root cellar.  Its walls were covered with shelves, and
they recognized it as a pantry.  The back of the door had shelves on it,
like the one in the root cellar.  These shelves too were cluttered with old
cans and jars.  There were traces of what was left of sacks too, but mice
had feasted on their contents over the years and all that was left was
their droppings and tatters of cloth.

   The discovery of the secret tunnel and what turned out to be a secret
corridor inside the house, that gave either visual or physical access to
almost every room in the mansion, changed the lives of the twins.  Now
their private world had been expanded a thousand fold.  Over the next five
years they roamed the old house as if they owned it.

   Almost everything had been left behind, but little of worth was left. 
The good dishes were gone, leaving behind mismatched bowls and plates
probably used by children and servants.  The same was true of utensils. 
Furniture was still there, but most looked to be in bad shape.  There were
still paintings and portraits on the walls, but they were dark with age and
dust, and it was difficult to tell what, or who they portrayed.  Anything
made of, or covered with cloth had deteriorated and faded.

   Everything exposed to the air, that was.

   There were chests made of cedar wood that had preserved their contents
remarkably well, and some drawers had contained some kind of pungent
smelling substance that had also kept the rigors of time and mice at bay,
mostly.  There were beautiful gowns and suits packed away that the children
gasped over.  There were hats and shoes and umbrellas made of lace.  There
were shirts and things that looked like a ballerina's tutu, but which hung
down to the floor instead of sticking out.  There were old smoking pipes,
carved into the likeness of fishermen, or a tiger's head and some decorated
with tarnished silver, or simply plain.  They found a few scattered coins,
which were immediately identified as the treasure they forever sought.

   Because the only things they found in reasonably good condition were the
clothing, they played dress up together, Debbie gathering too-big dresses
around herself and parading back and forth while Robby put on a top hat and
tails that hung to the floor, one of the pipes clamped in his jaw as he
struck poses for his sister.  It was in this way that they kept on
discovering their bodies after their mother, for some unexplained reason,
established separate bath times for them.

   During dress up play, Debbie unashamedly stripped out of her street
clothes to don a gown while Robby watched with interest, noting that, as
time went by, her breasts began to push out from her flat chest and then
got bigger and softer looking every year.  She watched as he skinned out of
his clothes too, to don some fancy vest that, at first, covered him like a
jacket, but, as he grew, left his growing genitals exposed.

   They pretended to be lords and ladies of years gone by, each one with
their own wardrobe, and they had these characters interact with each other,
requiring frequent changes of costume.  So they saw each other naked almost
daily as they grew into puberty.

   It was Debbie who developed pubic hair first ...  mere wisps of golden
that sprung from her skin almost overnight, it seemed.  Then there were
more and suddenly Robby could see them.

   "You have something on you." he pointed out that first day he noticed.

   She looked down at her pubescent mound with it's closely closed lips
that covered up the little bud she already knew all about by then.  She'd
never told her brother about what she did in her bed at night.  They shared
almost everything in the world, but that was one thing she instinctively
wanted to keep for her own secret.

   "That's my hair." she said, as if it were obvious, which to her it was.

   "When did you get hair?" asked her brother.

   "I don't' know.  One day it was just there."

   Robby bent over, examining his penis.  "I don't have any." he said,
disgruntled.

   There was some competition between them.  Their father had died in an
accident when they were little and their mother had never sought another
husband.  They got by on her salary at the bank, but there was no extra
money for frills.  As a result, whenever something did come into the house,
ownership was heatedly discussed and quite often things were portioned out.
If it was a food item, like a box of candy, each got his or her portion. 
If it were something else, each claimed a certain percentage of the use of
the item.  It was mostly a game, because they shared everything they had,
but establishing ownership meant that they could then CHOOSE to share,
which was somehow important to each.

   For her to have hair, and him not ...  seemed unjust somehow.

   "Do you have those singing things too?" he asked.

   Debbie paused, her pert young breasts with their soft pink puffy nipples
hanging a little as she bent to step into a gown of forest green.

   "What?" she asked.

   "You know, what we heard about in health class" said Robby.  "Those
singing periods where you have blood ...  down there." He pointed to what
was already covered.

   "Menstrual periods?" she asked.  "What do they have with singing?"

   "Didn't minstrals go from place to place in the old days and sing songs
and tell stories and stuff?" he asked.  "I never could figure out what that
had to do with girls bleeding, but I'm sure that's what they said."

   "Dummy!" she laughed.  "I have MEN-stral periods, not MIN-stral
periods." She giggled.  "I sure don't feel like singing when they come
around.  I'll tell you that!"

   "It all sounds the same to me." sighed Robby, who took no offense at
being labeled a 'dummy'.  "But you have hair and you have ...  those thingy
periods.  Doesn't that mean you can have a baby?"

   "I guess so." said Debbie, unconcerned.  Her mother had simply explained
that periods happened to girls as they grew up, and it was something they
had to put up with.  She understood the remorse and tears in her mother's
eyes as that was said when her mother made her put the thick pad between
her legs that soaked up all that blood.  It was AWFUL!  The pad rubbed her
legs and was uncomfortable.  But if she didn't use them it ruined her
panties and even the jeans she loved to wear, so she ...  put up with it.

   Later that night, back home, she found Robby with the textbook they used
in health class, reading avidly.

   "It says here that boys grow hair later than girls.  When that happens
semen will start coming out of my penis." he said.

   "Well if it's anything like my menstrual periods, don't be anxious for
that to happen." she said darkly.  "Periods are a pain."

   "I don't see why.  It already feels good if I rub it." he said, looking
up.

   Debbie was astonished.  At thirteen, she thought she was the only
teenager in the world who disregarded the stern warnings about masturbation
that seemed to come from everywhere.  It had never occurred to her that her
brother might do the same thing.

   "You rub your penis?" she asked.

   A guarded look came into Robby's eyes.

   "You know ...  in the shower ...  when I wash it."

   Debbie wasn't buying it.  She knew her brother too well and he couldn't
lie to her.

   "You MASTURBATE?" she whispered as loudly as she could without drawing
the attention of their mother, who was in the house somewhere.

   "SHHHHH!" Robby's eyes darted to the doorway.  "I didn't say that." he
whispered.

   Debbie knew she had an advantage, and she pressed it mercilessly.

   "You masturbate ...  don't you.  You can't lie to me.  I'm going to tell
mom!"

   "NO!" he whispered urgently.  "She'll KILL me if she finds out.  Come on
Deb, it was an accident.  I really WAS just washing it and it got to
feeling so good I just kept washing it and then it got hard and if felt so
good I just didn't want to stop.  Don't tell mom ...  pleeeease?"

   "I don't know" said Debbie in her carefully practiced but completely
fictitious voice of thoughtful worry.  "I heard it makes hair grow on your
palms if you do it more than just a few times."

   She watched with glee as Robby immediately looked at his palms.  Then,
with puzzlement on his face he looked back up to see his sister holding in
a laugh.

   Robby was much more mercurial than his sister.  He jumped immediately to
hot anger as he realized his sister had tricked him.

   "Get out of my room." he said in a low voice.  "Tell mom whatever you
like."

   Debbie knew when she went too far.  She had done it hundreds of times,
teasing her thin-skinned brother.  She also knew how to deal with him when
he got mad like that.

   "Come on you goof." she said in a jovial voice.  "I was just kidding
around." He was still surly and she knew she'd have to give him something
in return.  She thought about her own secret, so carefully kept over the
years.  Knowing that he did it too it didn't seem so dark any more.  She
held out her palms to him.  "I do it too."

   Debbie knew her brother well.  He was instantly intrigued.

   "You DO?" he whispered.  "Really Deb?"

   She blushed, but nodded, dropping her hands.  "Yeah, a couple of years
now."

   She saw his eyes widen and his mouth drop open.

   "And I'm not insane, and I don't have warts or any of that stuff." She
folded her arms, like she'd settled some big debate.

   "How come you didn't tell me?" he asked.

   "How come YOU didn't tell ME?" she shot back.

   "Oh ...  yeah." he said.  He looked thoughtful.  "How ...  often ...  do
you do it?" he leaned toward her as he whispered.

   Debbie's skin had begun to go back to its normal pale color, but she
blushed again.  She wasn't so sure she wanted to admit just how often she
rubbed her clitty.

   "Ummm ...  a lot." she settled for.

   He slumped a little.  "Me too." he said, his voice normal, but low. 
"Sometimes I take a shower when I don't even need one ...  just so I can
... do it."

   Debbie had always thought she was the smarter twin.  It was at times
like this that she felt justified.

   "You don't have to be in the shower to do it." she said patiently.  "I
do it in bed, after everybody's asleep."

   Robby's forehead wrinkled.  "Really?" he said.  "I never thought of
that." He looked at his lap.  "Boy, just thinking about it makes me want to
do it now."

   Debbie had never really been all that interested in boys, at least not
as sexual objects.  She had her little secret, that she did in bed, and
which satisfied her, and that was fine.  Other girls went on and on about
boys and kissing and all kinds of things that sounded pretty yucky to
Debbie at the tender age of thirteen.  Her way of conquering a boy was to
beat him at a footrace, or make it to home plate without being thrown out.

   "Well don't do it when I'm around." she sniffed.

   They hadn't talked about it again, but after that, when they went to the
Nettleton Mansion to explore, if they dressed up, each one was more than a
little interested in the other's body.  They still had an easy unconcerned
manner about themselves as they got nude together.

   It was almost a year later that Robby, while he was putting on a formal
kind of suit that had a shirt with no collar, and which had begun to fit
him a lot better than it had in years past, said "I'm getting hair too."

   Debbie, who now had a nice collection of honey gold hair above her
pouting pussy lips wanted to see, so Robby bared his adolescent prick and
she bent over to look.  Sure enough dark brown hair was beginning to sprout
all around his penis and the sack that hung under it.  That sack suddenly
looked much more full than Debbie remembered it being ...  larger.  As she
stared the penis moved all by itself.

   "I can feel you breathing on me." said Robby in a strained voice.

   "Your penis is moving!" said Debbie.

   "I think it's getting hard." said Robby.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "I don't know.  Sometimes it just does that." he replied.  "When it does
...  that's when I want to rub it."

   Debbie's mind set about such things had undergone not a little
transformation in the last eight months.  Her breasts were now huge, from
her own perspective, thought they were only the size of a softball,
roughly. The nipples, which had been puffy and soft had begun to get firm,
especially whenever she rubbed herself in bed.  They tingled too, and she
had found that it felt very good to rub them and squeeze them gently as she
rubbed between her legs.

   "You want to masturbate NOW?" she asked, standing up.  "Why?"

   "I don't know." he said.  "I TOLD you it just happens sometimes. 
Whenever it gets hard I know it will feel really good to rub it."

   "Could I watch while you do it?" she asked, a strange feeling in the pit
of her stomach.

   "I thought you said not to do it around you." he remembered.

   "I changed my mind." she said, with the certainty that all women have,
and which is based on the fact that all women somehow know they have the
ultimate and uncontested right to do so.

   "I'd feel pretty weird doing that here." he said, looking around the
dusty bedroom they were in.

   "Why?" she asked.  Debbie felt completely at home in the Nettleton
mansion by now.

   "What if the ghosts watched?" he asked.

   They had heard some of the stories about the house by now and had
decided long ago that the Nettleton mansion was, in fact, haunted.  Things
got moved around ...  little things ...  and there were noises.  But, after
fleeing several times in abject panic, they had always crept back in. 
Eventually they came to the comfortable agreement that, while there might
be ghosts in the house, they weren't apparently unfriendly ones.  They
spoke to the ghosts a few times, proclaiming loudly that they weren't there
to take anything, or destroy anything, and that the ghosts were welcome to
do whatever they wanted to do, since it was, after all, the ghosts' house.

   "Why would ghosts care if you masturbate?" asked Debbie.

   Debbie threw out "the challenge": "I'll do it if you do it."

   "The challenge" was a time honored way in which they talked each other
into doing whatever it was that one of them was worried about doing, but
which the other one wanted to do.  They had issued "the challenge" to each
other so many times in the past that the result was almost always an
immediate, if still somewhat nervous acquiescence to the suggestion ... 
whatever it was.  Basically, responding to "the challenge" was a habit
they'd both fallen into, and it was ingrained in them ...  as normal as
hunger.

   "OK" Robby stuck out his jaw and his hand went to his penis.  He
immediately began stroking it, and it got even longer and harder than it
had been.

   "Hold on!" complained Debbie.  "Give me a minute here." She dropped the
gown, just naturally getting ready to do it like she almost always did it
...  naked.

   Then she went to the bed, which still had a musty cover on it.  Pulling
that off she scooted up onto the sagging mattress and lay back, sideways to
her brother.  Her fingers went automatically to her clit and she began
rubbing it in circles.

   "OK" she said.  "You can go on now."

   Robby, unlike his sister, had been interested in the opposite sex for
some time now.  His friends also told tales of kisses and groping sessions
and other more involved things that he always pretended to know all about,
but actually knew very little of.  He had never actually thought of his
sister like he thought of other girls.  Sure, she had breasts and all the
other things girls had, but he had seen them so often he just took them for
granted.

   Until now.

   Now, she was a girl, and she was naked, and she was DOING something
sexual right there in front of him.

   He felt something in his balls that he hadn't felt but once before. 
That one time he had been stroking his soapy penis in the shower.  Usually
he just stroked, and it felt good, and he just assumed that was all there
was to jerking off.  His mother usually came along yelling at him to stop
wasting water, so his stroke sessions never went on as long as he'd have
liked them to.  And, when he started doing it in bed, at Debbie's
suggestion, he'd experienced much the same thing.  He concentrated on the
feeling of his hand, and what it was doing.  He'd never thought about a
girl while he was doing it ...  at least not in any specific way.  He
hadn't quite connected what he was doing to what his penis COULD do ... 
with a girl.

   As a result, Robby had never actually had an orgasm.

   Now, however, seeing his sister's fingers busy at the juncture of her
legs, he stared.  And he suddenly realized that where her fingers were
moving in more and more rapid circles, the lips under her fingers were
puffing up and beginning to gape open, exposing the very area where his
health teacher had told him that a penis was designed to fit into.

   The strange feeling in his balls increased until it was almost painful.
He was jerking faster now, much faster than he'd ever done it before.

   Debbie was watching, her eyes half closed, her lower lip caught between
pearly white teeth.  She moaned and the sound bore into Robby's heart like
a dagger.

   Then she stuck one of her fingers into that dark opening and it
disappeared up inside her.  The connection between what was in his hand,
and where her finger was, exploded into Robby's mind and the pain in his
penis became unbearable.  He had an instant of panic that he'd hurt himself
when he felt a soothing rush of ...  something ...  racing through his
sensitive penis.  To his astonishment, a long stream of milky-white fluid
arced up and out of his cock.  It seemed to hang in the air for a couple of
heartbeats, which he could clearly feel in his chest, and then splatted
wetly on the edge of the bed and to the floor.

   Debbie knew instinctively what that liquid was, and seeing it shoot out
of her brother's penis gave her a feeling deep inside her that was almost
as scary as what Robby had felt just before he ejaculated.  She pulled hard
on the finger deep inside her, mashing her clit and her own orgasm crashed
down on her like a ton of bricks.

   "AWWWWWWMMMMMMMMM" she groaned, curling up into a fetal position, her
finger still buried in her as the sensations wracked her young body.

   Meanwhile Robby was staring as more and more of that fluid leapt out of
his cock.  It suddenly stopped, and he felt a dull ache in his balls.  It
still felt good to hold his penis and he did so tightly.  When he finally
let the pressure off a big bubble of white oozed out of the tip and hung,
swinging gently as he panted, before dropping between his feet.

   It was quiet, the only sound the panting of two teenagers.  Debbie
finally opened her eyes and stared at her brother, for whom she suddenly
felt feelings that were more intense than she'd felt in the past.  That was
saying something, and she knew, somehow, that everything had changed
between them.  It was a good change, though, as far as she was concerned.
They had always been close, but now they shared something they felt with no
other person on earth.

   "That was awesome." she sighed.

   "I squirted." he said, amazement clear in his voice.

   "You sure did.  It almost got on me." she said, unfolding and
stretching.

   Robby watched as her naked body stretched, long and slim on the bed.  He
had a sudden urge to squirt some more, even though his balls ached and his
penis felt dead.  He realized he was still holding it and let it flop down.



   "I never squirted before." he said, unnecessarily.

   "You said you would some day." she pointed out.

   "Yeah ...  I guess I just wasn't expecting it." He stood there
uncomfortably.  "Is that OK?"

   Debbie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.  Her leg felt
a wet spot and she rolled to see she'd put it right on a glob of his spunk.



   "Ewwww" she said as she wiped at it with her hand.  "Do you have to get
it all over the place?"

   "I'm sorry Deb." he said, his voice tragic.  "I didn't mean it ... 
honest."

   She stood up, looking at her brother's face.  He was obviously upset
that she was upset.

   "It's OK.  You're supposed to do that.  Just try not to get it all over
the place next time."

   Robby's response caught her off guard.  Wearing only an unbuttoned shirt
he stepped forward and hugged his naked sister.

   "Oh thanks Deb, I promise.  I'm so glad you're not mad."

   Debbie was shocked by the feel of his chest against her breasts, and
something poking into the area she had just been rubbing, also warm and
soft.  Before she could process that strange feeling of naked skin against
her own naked skin he backed up.  The look on his face was of pure joy. 
She wanted to laugh because he was so eager to please her.  She felt a rush
of warmth in her chest.

   "I love you, you goof.  You could never really make me mad." she said.
"Now come on, I want to be Lady Nettleton." She retrieved the green gown
that "Lady Nettleton" always wore and stepped into it, pulling it up to
cover her nakedness.  It fit her a lot better these days too, and she
smoothed it into place at her waist, turning so that Robby could button the
numerous tiny buttons up the back.

   "I love you too Deb." he sighed, as his fingers strained to deal with
the small pieces of round bone that closed her dress.

   Then he put on his formal suit and they got the mismatched porcelain tea
service out of a cupboard in the dining room and pretended to have tea. 
Robby commented on how beautiful she was, and how well the crops were
doing, and how well she was supervising the servants.  She curtsied and
spoke about his bravery in running off the latest raiders, and how handsome
he was.  Then they danced, pretending they were at a ball they were
hosting, with hundreds of people all around them.  Robby "introduced"
Debbie to their imaginary guests, calling her "his beautiful bride, Edwina"
and, because they didn't actually know the real names of the semi-fictional
Nettletons they were pretending to be, she introduced him as "My handsome
husband, Beauregard".

   They had pretended to be Beauregard and Edwina many times before this,
but this time, after sharing something so intimate, the mood was different.
To the surprise of both of them they slowed in their dancing and were
suddenly kissing each other, standing still, their lips clinging to each
other's.

   Debbie's eyes were closed and, while she was imagining herself kissing
the mythical 'Beauregard', she realized that her brother's lips tasted
sweet and good.

   Robby had forgotten all other women, and the feel of his sister's lips
against his was hot and electric.  He felt his penis begin to stiffen
again.

   He pulled back.  "My penis is getting hard again!"

   She looked at him sternly.  "We don't have time for that again.  Come
one.  Mom will be wondering where we got to."

   Ten minutes later they were climbing up out of the root cellar, dressed
in their own clothes, just normal looking teenagers, as they slipped
between the trees back to the real world.

   Robby and Debbie, for whatever reason, did not take their newfound
sexual intimacy back home with them.  It was something to be shared only in
the Nettleton Manor.  While each still masturbated at home, neither sought
to be with the other while they did so.  Perhaps it was that both knew, on
some level, that what they had done would be frowned on most horribly by
any adult who found out about it.  Or perhaps it was because that secret
sharing of their passion was so precious that it must be restricted to
their secret imaginary world.  For whatever reason, there was unspoken
agreement between them that, if they were to do that again - and both
wanted to do that again - that it would only take place in the faded rooms
in the forlorn house, that harbored so many other secrets so well.

   And, perhaps because that sharing was SO intense, they both regarded it
as a treat, or luxury, and as such, did not increase the frequency with
which they stole off to explore and pretend in the house.  No doubt there
was an unconscious desire to protect, for as long as it could be protected,
their secret hideaway.  If they went too often, someone would eventually
notice them, or find them, and everything would be ruined.

   Over the next couple of years they grew more mature, though, and while
the house still held fascination for them, they played dress up less often
and turned to exploration of the secrets of the house more.

   They explored the secret passageways extensively, finding places where
holes had been made in the walls so that a person in the secret passageway
could peer into the various rooms of the mansion ...  including the
bedrooms.  Most of these peeking holes were so cunningly constructed that
they were incorporated into the whorls of woodwork that adorned the fancy
trim of the rooms.  Two were designed so that they looked natural as gaps
in the mountings of old gas light fixtures.

   The bedrooms held fascination for them too.  One had obviously been a
little girl's room, with dolls and tiny dresses that were the match for the
larger ones that older women had worn.  Another was littered with wooden
toys, carved horses, and an intricately made wagon ...  boy's toys.  Then
there was the big bedroom, with its canopied bed, the canopy hanging in
tatters of rotted cloth, but still grand in it's faded way.  This room held
the chests filled with gowns and formal mens' wear that they loved to put
on.

   Still others were almost bare of furnishings, and smaller, as if people
less important had slept in them.  Those rooms, they noticed, all had peek
holes that viewed primarily the beds.

   And, when they felt the urge, instead of dressing up ...  they dressed
down, stripping off their clothes to tease each other with their nakedness,
strutting and posturing, exposing their sexual parts and, when their
passions had been raised as high as they could stand it ...  masturbating
in ways that inflamed themselves and each other.

   It was inevitable, in a way, that each time they did this, they got
closer and closer to each other, until, one time, Robby's spurts of semen
splashed on his sister's skin.  He had ignored her admonition "not to get
it all over the place" simply because he didn't know how to avoid "getting
it all over the place." And she said nothing, because she loved watching
those streams of spunk fly through the air so much she didn't press the
issue.  It always dried by the time they returned, so all she had to do was
avoid stepping in it when it was fresh.

   And this time, when it splattered across her stomach as she lay, legs
spread as wide as she could get them, hand frantically shoving a finger
deep in her pussy, she didn't complain about it because of the surprise
that it was so hot where it touched her.  Her only experience with touching
it was that first time, when she sat on a spot that had had time to cool in
the air.  So, without thinking of where it came from, she'd always thought
of it as being cold.  But now, where it made a streak on her stomach and
one arm, it was warm.  And somehow warm wasn't at all yucky.

   Her orgasm that day was hotter than ever.

   Robby, though, was horrified.

   "I'm sorry Deb" he gushed, backing up as his prick continued spurting
wildly.  "I didn't mean it." Robby, being a boy, had a long history of
yelping "I didn't mean it."

   His sister shushed him though, to his great relief.  He watched in
amazement as she brought the hand away from her pussy and scooped up a glob
of his spunk, rubbing it between her fingers.

   "It's not so bad." she said.  "It's really slippery!"

   Perhaps, because she was intent on calming her brother down, or because
she was concentrating on feeling the stripe of his spend across her
stomach, she habitually returned her spermy fingers to her clit and rubbed
it gently in the afterglow of her orgasm.  She was slippery enough already
that she didn't notice the added slip as her brother's sperm was rubbed
into the top of her pussy split.

   Chapter Two

   The incident in which her brother's semen had splashed on her skin had
just been a few days ago.  Debbie thought about it as she stared out her
window at the roof of the tower where she had played princess, while her
brother, the knight, fought all manner of monsters and beasts for the
privilege of getting to see her rub her naked pussy while he jerked that
lovely slippery stuff out of his prick.

   She sighed again as Petula Clark sang the last chorus of "Downtown" and
the announcer promised that the new Beatles hit would be coming up soon. 
She couldn't go find Robby and ask him to go to the manor.  With his friend
there that wouldn't work.  They hadn't told any of their friends about
their secret place, because all their friends would want to go and see it.
Then it wouldn't be theirs alone any more, and they wouldn't be able to
masturbate there either, since they'd never know if some friend was going
to sneak in like they did.

   She opened the window to get some air into her room, which seemed
stuffy. It was then that she heard the noise coming from the Nettleton
Manor next door.

   It was a motor noise, that much she could tell, like a truck.  There was
a clanking sound too, but it came and went, while the motor noise was more
or less constant.  But that was impossible.  There was no way to get a car
or truck onto the property.  She saw a cloud of black smoke drift upward
above the trees and begin to dissipate in the light breeze.

   Panic seized Debbie's heart.  Fire!  Something was on fire over there!

   She ran, screaming for Robby.

   Robby and Mike were in Robby's room.  Each was working on an AMT plastic
model, and each was bent over, carefully and intently painting very small
parts with tiny brushes.  Debbie's screams electrified both boys, whose
hands jerked, causing paint to smudge off onto upholstery, in one case, and
armor plating in the other.  She was yelling something about a fire and
both boys jumped up and charged out of the room only to run head on into
Debbie.  She slammed into Mike, who had been closer to the door, and both
landed in a heap on the floor while Robby screamed for information.

   Debbie was crying by now and her sobs made it difficult to understand
her.  They heard "Fire ...  Smoke ...  and Our place", but couldn't make
any sense of it.  Then she pointed toward the Nettleton mansion and Robby
paled.  He ran outside and stopped to stare at the forest next door.  He
heard the same motor noises, but saw no smoke.  Debbie and Mike skidded to
a stop behind him.

   "Where?" asked Robby.  "I don't see any fire."

   Debbie, who had expected to see walls of flame and a tower of smoke,
stopped crying when she saw only what the others could see ...  basically
nothing.

   "I saw smoke!" she said.  "From my window upstairs."

   "What's that noise?" asked Mike.  "It sounds like a tank or something."

   Robby started for the place in the fence where he and his sister, in the
past, had almost walked through to get on the property, but now had to
squeeze through.  Then he remembered Mike and his habit of keeping the
secret was so strong that he stopped.  The fence led down to the street and
turned a corner to run almost a block to the big iron gates.

   "Come on." he yelled, and took off running for the corner of the fence.

   Minutes later the three youths stopped and stared.  In all their lives
those massive wrought iron gates had always been closed, with a heavy black
chain and a huge old padlock with the key hole on the front of it keeping
them that way.

   But now the gates had been flung wide, the chain lying on the ground
with the old padlock, now lying broken, lying forlornly beside it.  A big
flatbed truck and trailer were parked on the street, with heavy ramps
leading down from the trailer.  Where there had only been a choked track
through the forest behind the gates, there was now an eight foot wide swath
of destruction, making a flat, open expanse to drive on.  There were tread
marks in the exposed topsoil.

   Without a thought the three ran up the newly cleared track.  A hundred
yards later the motor noise was loud and the teens slowed, and left the
cleared track to enter the woods.  They lurked from tree to tree until at
last they could see what had happened.

   There was a big yellow bulldozer pushing a huge pile of trees and
shrubs, that HAD been growing in the old driveway, but were now a mangled
collection of destroyed vegetation.  Other than the man driving the
bulldozer, only one other person was visible.

   He looked at first like what all three kids thought a hermit would look
like.  He had long, raggedy black hair, with a wild unkempt beard that was
at least a foot long.  He was wearing a black overcoat, regardless of the
fact that it was eighty-five degrees outside.  His arms were gastrulating,
guiding the man on the bulldozer ...  showing him where to push the big
pile of cleared plants.  As it moved the bulldozer sent a huge plume of
black smoke up into the air out of it's smokestack.  Debbie recognized it
immediately as what she'd seen before.

   Her relief at finding there was no fire though, was completely overcome
by finding strangers on the property ...  HER property ...  her SECRET
property.  She stood up and moved from behind the tree she had been hiding
behind and started marching toward the scene of destruction.

   Robby saw her and intuited what she was going to try to do.  But his
mind reasoned that, without knowing who the crazy looking man was, all that
would probably happen was that Debbie would get in trouble.  He lunged
forward and grasped her slim waist, pulling her behind a huge old oak tree.
She struggled against him, her yells overcome by the noise of the bulldozer
as it strained to push the huge pile of debris a little further.  In the
end he had to put his arms all the way around her.  His hands inadvertently
were filled with her breasts as she strained to get away from him.

   Mike looked on in astonishment as his two friends struggled.  What was
Robby doing grabbing Debbie's breasts?  He had the flash of a thought that
he wished HE could be doing that.  Debbie was a good looking chick and he'd
tried to get her to go out with him lots of times, but she didn't go on
dates.  Neither did Robby.

   Now Robby was yelling in her ear and she finally stopped struggling. 
Her hands came to his and dragged them off her breasts.  Then she turned
around and hugged her brother, burying her face in his chest.  Mike could
tell she was sobbing, but he couldn't figure out whether it had to do with
her breasts, or what was going on that short distance away.

   The motor of the bulldozer suddenly went quiet ...  so quiet that it
seemed to the kids as if they had gone deaf.  All three held their breath,
Debbie less successfully as she gasped a sob now and again.  The driver was
getting down and his feet made noises on the metal parts of the bulldozer.
The sounds were so clear that the kids suddenly thought any sound they made
would be clearly heard by the two men.

   The hermit yelled, as if the motor was still running.

   "That's fine for now.  I can get a truck in here at least.  There'll be
more work later, but I have to make plans."

   He walked over to meet the driver, digging in the pockets of his
overcoat.  They saw him pull out a wad of money that would choke a horse
and he peeled bills off of it, handing them to the driver.

   In a softer, but clearly audible voice, the hermit said "I thank you,
sir, for your prompt service.  I assume cash will be sufficient?"

   "Cash is right fine, mister Smith.  And I appreciate the bonus.  I can
use it.  Running one of these beasts is right costly.  But they sure do
short work of things.  When I was a boy we'd have had to do all that with
horses and it would have taken a week.  But for your bonus it wouldn't have
hardly been worth taking her off the truck."

   Mister Smith smiled through his thick brush of fur and waved.  "I'll get
the gate."

   With that the driver got back on his iron beast and it roared to life,
the blade lifting like some monstrous guillotine, ready to destroy
something else.

   Debbie flinched.  She had been darting looks at the house, and the pile
of debris, and the hermit, trying to assess what all this meant.  The noise
of the bulldozer unnerved her.  She saw with her own eyes what it could do.
She feared at first that he was just going to make a long sweep back to the
gate, destroying more of their precious magical forest, but the thing, with
a groan of metal and the screaming of the motor, making huge clouds of
sooty black smoke, spun as if it were light as a feather and lumbered off
back down the smooth track it had made.  With the blade raised it moved
much faster than it had before.

   The hermit stared at the pile of brush and trees and gave a little shake
of his head.  Then he turned and just looked at the mansion, hands on his
hips, staring, as if he could see something the others could not.  The
noise of the bulldozer got more and more distant and then there was a
grinding noise made by the treads on the big metal ramps leading up to the
long, low trailer.  The noise cut off and it was quiet as a tomb again.

   The three teens stood, stock still, watching the stranger watching the
house.

   After what seemed like an interminable time, there was the sound of a
truck motor starting, revving up and pulling away.  Mister Smith turned his
head toward the newly cleared driveway and then turned his body and began
walking down to the gate.

   Silent shadows flicked from tree to tree ...  three shadows ...  as the
teens cut through the forest on a soft carpet of dead, moist leaves.  One
of them stepped on a branch that cracked like a gunshot to their ears and
the other two shot dark looks, raising fingers to their lips.  They crept
on, arriving just in time to see mister Smith leaned against the one open
half of the gate, pushing with all his strength to close it.

   "Gonna have to get some oil on these hinges." he muttered.

   He moved inside and pulled, getting the two halves closed as much as he
could.  Then, digging into another pocket of that strange greatcoat, he
pulled a shiny new lock from it.  Bending he gathered up the old chain and
draped it through the iron bars of the gate, pulling on the loose ends
until the gate closed even more.  He fumbled with the ends and then stood
back.  The new lock was securely fastened.  He nodded, turned on his heel,
and began trudging back up the drive toward the manor.

   The three kids looked at each other, staring open mouthed.

   They were locked in.

   Mike started to say something, but Robby shushed him quietly.  He held
up a hand, standing still, his head swiveling, watching the stranger until
the number of trees between watcher and watched got so numerous that they
could only catch glimpses of movement.  Robby waited longer and then
finally dropped his hand.  He turned to his sister and friend and beckoned
them toward him.

   "What are we gonna do?" whispered Mike anxiously.  He looked up at the
sharp spikes that topped each upright iron bar in the fence that, as far as
he knew, completely surrounded the property.  The bars were only six inches
apart.  There was no way to go through, or over the fence.

   "We know a way out." whispered Robby.  Debbie shot him a look but he
shook his head.  "We used to play in the woods.  Follow me."

   He took them along the fence, back toward the corner they'd run around
...  not right by the fence, but ten or fifteen yards inside the
undergrowth, as if he were afraid someone outside the fence might see them.
To his credit he made it look as if he were searching for something, though
he knew exactly where the wide spot in the bars was.  It took them fifteen
minutes to circle the mansion.  When they got there it was obvious that
there was a trail leading from the fence toward the house.

   "Look!" said Mike.  "Somebody's been using this!"

   "Game trail." said Robby confidently.  "You know, rabbits ...  deer ...
that kind of thing."

   There WERE deer in these parts, though none of the teens had ever seen
one that hadn't been shot by a hunter and hung up to butcher.  Mike nodded.
His primary concern was getting out.  There was no way he wanted to go
knock on the door and face mister Smith to get that gate unlocked.  He saw
the gap in the fence.  Someone had gone to great lengths with some kind of
heavy force to bend the bars apart.  What none of them knew was that this
was the entrance point that kidnappers had used decades before to gain
entry onto the property.

   That wouldn't have mattered anyway.  Now all three youths squeezed
between the bars.  As soon as they were out all three ran like the wind
toward Debbie and Robby's house.

   They were out of breath when they arrived, pounding through the door and
into the kitchen, where they stood, poised for further flight for some
reason.  Debbie had a wild look in her eyes.  Her hair, which had been in a
pony tail, had come partly undone, perhaps from brushing a tree branch, and
her hair flew off in several directions.  Her heaving chest caught Mike's
attention.  He could see the dents in her shirt that he knew were made by
nipples.

   "What was THAT all about?" he asked, breathlessly.

   "I don't know." said Robby, sitting down.  Then he stood up again and
went to the fridge, pulling out bottles of Royal Crown Cola for them all.
He couldn't find an opener, digging through the junk drawer under the
counter.  Debbie took hers and dug the edge of the serrated cap into the
aluminum strip that went along the edge of the counter.  She raised it
fractionally and then jerked downward.  The cap sailed and she tipped the
bottle up, drinking thirstily.

   "You know mom doesn't like that." chided Robby.  "It marks up the
aluminum."

   Debbie let the bottle fall back, half empty.  She let out a long burp
and wiped her mouth with her forearm.  "That's not important right now."
she said edgily.  "We have to stop that man."

   "Why?" asked Mike, trying to do the same thing he'd seen Debbie do, but
unable to make it work.  "Maybe he bought the place."

   Debbie jerked the bottle from his hands and opened it for him expertly
on the edge of the counter, like she had her own.  She handed it back to
him.

   "He CAN'T buy the manor." she unconsciously slipped into her common name
for the Nettleton Mansion.

   Mike took a gulp of pop and tried to burp.  It was a short one and he
looked disgusted.  "Why not?  If he's crazy enough and has the money he can
do what he wants."

   Debbie was about to hotly exclaim that he couldn't buy the place because
it was HERS!, but Robby shot her a look that made her mouth snap shut.

   "He doesn't look like he has that kind of money." said Robby hurriedly.

   "He sure pulled a bundle out of that coat." insisted Mike.  "And he paid
that guy on that bulldozer.  Maybe he's some rich crazy guy or something.
He'd have to be crazy to buy that place.  That's for sure." He went back to
trying to work up a respectable belch.

   "We have to tell Mom!" said Debbie urgently.  "She'll know what to do."

   "Why do you have to do anything?" insisted Mike.  "Who cares?" He took
another swig of RC Cola.  "I can't wait to tell my parents." he said,
exhibiting just who he thought WOULD care.

   "Yeah" said Robby.  "Go home and tell your parents.  I need to ...  ah
mow the lawn anyway."

   Debbie could tell that her brother was trying to get rid of his friend,
which was fine with her, because this was an emergency and they needed to
DO something.  Mike, not having any of the urgency that was seething
beneath the surface of both twins, kept trying to work up a burp.  His eyes
fell to Debbie's chest again.

   "Hey, I just remembered something." he said.

   The other two looked at him anxiously.

   "When we were out there, watching them, and you tried to go do something
..." he addressed Debbie.  "and Rob stopped you?  Remember?"

   She nodded, wishing he'd just leave so she and her brother could discuss
what to do.

   "Rob touched your titties." announced Mike.

   "No he didn't." she said hotly.

   "Yes he did!  He had his hands all over your titties." insisted Mike.

   "What's your point Mike?" demanded Debbie.

   "Well I was wondering if maybe you'd let me touch them too." Mike had
known the twins for as long as he could remember, and he'd spent hours
playing baseball with them, or riding bikes or playing Monopoly.  He'd
always accepted Debbie as just another friend ...  not a girl.  It was only
recently that he'd noticed her as a girl.

   "What kind of pervert are you?" Debbie leaned in close to him.

   "I'm not a pervert!" yelped Mike.  "HE did it!  So why can't I?"

   "Mike, buddy, I didn't grab her boobs on purpose, you idiot." said
Robby. "I was just trying to keep her from running in front of that
bulldozer.  It was an accident."

   "Oh." said Mike with obvious disappointment, looking down.  He then
looked back up, hope back in his eyes.  "What did it feel like?  Were they
soft?"

   "You really ARE a pervert!" squealed Debbie.

   "No I'm NOT!" defended Mike.  "Guys do that all the time.  If you like a
girl you're SUPPOSED to touch her titties."

   "So you like me?" asked Debbie, not at all sure how she felt about that
possibility.  She had too many things on her mind right now to think about
that.

   "No!" blurted Mike.  "I mean you know ...  not like that.  I think
you're cool and everything.  I just never got to touch a girls titties
before."

   Debbie folded her arms under the titties being discussed, framing them
nicely, though that wasn't her intent.

   "Well you're not going to be feeling mine any time soon.  I can't
believe you Mike Sumner!  I should tell your mother what you just asked."

   Mike reacted just like her brother would have, groveling and begging and
promising anything if she'd refrain from getting him in trouble.  It was a
lesson Debbie would remember.  Up to that point the only male she had any
real sway over was her brother.  At least in terms of using extortion and
blackmail to control a boy.  But she took it easy on him.  All she really
wanted right then was for him to go home so she could talk to Robby about
the manor.  So she told him to go home and think about what he'd done,
about how he'd hurt her feelings.  She even worked up a tear and managed to
look sad and confused about how a friend could sink so low.

   Mike escaped while the escaping was good.

   Once he was gone Debbie's demeanor changed instantly from a weepy
teenage girl to a young woman deadly serious about attacking a real
problem.

   "What are we gonna do Robby?" she asked him worriedly.

   "I don't know." he said, just as worriedly.

   "We could call the police." she suggested.

   "If he hired somebody to take a big machine like that in there he's not
trying to hide anything." reasoned Robby.  "I mean he's not trespassing or
anything."

   "What's he DOING there?!" cried Debbie.  "That's OUR place Robby!  He
can't just take it away from us!  That's not FAIR!"

   "What about our stuff?" asked Robby.

   Over the years they'd taken small personal items to the house.  The nest
that had been in the root cellar had been moved to one of the bedrooms that
they adopted as their own.  There wasn't a lot other than a few smuggled
pillows and one blanket.

   But what Robby was talking about was their treasure trove.  An old
hand-made wooden jewelry box had been found and, while it contained nothing
of real value that they could see, they had made it into the place they put
all the treasures they DID find in their explorations.  The two coins were
there, along with a heavy salt shaker that they thought was made of silver.
There was a polished comb of bone, intricately carved, that Debbie used to
pin up her hair when they played dress-up in the past.  And, their prize
possession, a gold pocket watch they'd found stuffed into a hole in the
mattress of what appeared to have been a woman's bedroom.  The watch still
worked and it was beautiful.

   "We have to go GET it!" whispered Debbie, even though they were the only
two people in the house.

   "We can't do that.  He'll catch us." whispered back Robby.

   "We'll wait `til he leaves and then get it." reasoned Debbie.

   "He locked that gate.  What if he's NOT leaving?" reasoned Robby.

   "He HAS to leave sometime." said Debbie firmly.

   In the end, they couldn't think of anything to do, and each subsided to
think while they waited for their mother to get home.  Both instinctively
believed that she would somehow know something that would somehow make
everything OK again.

   Indecision reigned for half an hour as Debbie and Robby tried to think
of something to do.  Debbie was probably more upset about the changes in
their world than Robby, until she pointed out that they no longer had a
place to go to ...  play.  As that sunk in Robby got more and more upset
until he was as frantic as Debbie.

   "I'll go down to the bank and talk to Mom." he suggested.  "You stay
here and watch the house." They both knew he meant the mansion, and not
their own house.

   For lack of a better plan, Debbie agreed and, after Robby pounded out of
the front door, she stood in her window and stared at the dunce cap roof of
the tower next door.

   Perhaps it was because Debbie had always been self confident, afraid of
very little, that she decided she needed to watch the new goings-on from
closer.  It wasn't a conscious decision that led her back to the fence and
their "private entrance", and through the woods to the rear of the carriage
house.  But that's where she found herself, peering through a tangle of
brush at the back of the mansion.  There wasn't, of course, much to see. 
The house sat there, like it always had, lonely looking, run down and
forlorn.

   She had settled into a comfortable squat, holding on to a branch to keep
her balance, when sudden movement at the back door of the house caught her
eye.  She was suddenly struck by the fact that the boards that had kept
that entrance from being used were gone, and the door had opened.

   But the man who came out of that door and began walking directly toward
her was not the hermit she had seen before.  This man was younger, slimmer,
without the trench coat.  And his face was smooth shaven, with a thatch of
brown hair above it ...  not the dark and ominous beard and black hair of
the hermit.  He was wearing shorts and a T shirt that was dark with sweat
around the neck and armpits.  The man looked gray and she realized he was
covered with dust.

   About the same time it registered in her brain that he was walking
toward her hiding place.

   Panic seized her and she froze, not breathing as the man stalked closer.
Then he veered to his right and approached the little wooden shack that sat
alone in what had been the far reaches of the back yard.  The kids had
examined that little shack, puzzled at first when all they found inside was
a low shelf, like a floor mounted cabinet, with a round smooth-edged hole
cut in the top, and a dark, empty pit under it.  Then Robby remembered
seeing something like this at their grandfather's farm when they were
little.  It was an outhouse.  Once that had been determined, they had
forgotten all about the little building.  If they needed to use the
bathroom they simply went home.

   But this man went to the shack, now leaning a bit because of the growth
of a big sycamore tree that had grown up right next to it.  He went inside
and the door slammed shut.

   Debbie moved then, getting further behind the bush she was hiding
behind. She was amazed to hear singing coming from the outhouse, snatches
of an old rock and roll tune from the fifties.  He stayed in there for what
seemed a long time to her, and she jumped as the door banged open and the
man came out, zipping up his shorts.  He was still mumbling the words to
the song, and he even broke into a dance of sorts as he trudged along the
path that led to the structure.  When he got to the back door of the
mansion he turned around and his head swiveled as he surveyed the carriage
house and the woods around it.  With a shake of his head he turned on his
heel and re-entered the house, slamming the door closed behind him.

   It was the normality of his actions that troubled Debbie the most.  He
acted like he had every right in the world to be in the house ...  to have
removed the barrier to entry ...  to use the outhouse.  On impulse Debbie
backed out of her hiding place and retreated deeper into the woods.  She
then began circling the mansion, taking special care to see if there were
any other changes that had been made.  With a sinking heart she noted that
the front door was also uncovered, as were the windows at the front of the
house.  It looked different somehow, more like a house, though still
disheveled and morose in appearance.  Some of the windows didn't look as
grimy and fly-specked as she remembered them.

   It looked like the man ...  or men ...  were planning to stay.

   But there were still so many questions.  Who was this new man?  Where
was the hermit, and who was HE?  Why had they come to ruin things?  What
were they doing in the house?  Were THEY searching for treasure?  Debbie
thought of her and Robby's little stash of recovered valuables.  It was
lying in plain sight in the bedroom they'd decided was "their" bedroom,
which had once belonged to a little girl.  Had these strangers found that
stash?

   It was the desire to get answers to these questions that drove Debbie to
the root cellar, and through the tunnel, to attempt to open the secret door
as quietly as she could.  It made a horrible racket, the hinges squeaking
as she slowly pulled it open.  It had never made that much noise in the
past ...  had it?

   She didn't have a candle ...  hadn't thought to bring one ...  but by
now she knew the secret passage like the back of her hand and didn't really
need a light.

   Slowly, taking extra care to step quietly, she crept up the stairs,
wincing at each creak her footfalls made.  The first peep hole gave her a
view of the kitchen, but no one was there.  Then she tried the dining room,
also without success.  As she approached the upper part of the house she
began to hear faint noises.  She struck pay dirt in the little boy's
bedroom.  The man ...  the second man ...  was in that room.  She peered
through the peep hole and watched as he moved a broom along the floor.  She
wondered inanely why he wasn't using a vacuum cleaner and then remembered
there was no electricity.  The bed had been stripped and the decayed
mattress was standing, half leaning against one wall as it tried to settle
into a lump.  What little furniture was in the room had all been shoved to
line one wall, leaving the floor open for the man to sweep.  He was
humming.

   She was closer to him now and could examine him better.  She judged his
age to be about that of her mother's.  He was deeply tanned and had
obviously come from someplace where he was in the sun a lot.  His face was
strong-jawed and lined, as if he had spent a lot of time in the weather. 
He wasn't skinny, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on him either.  His leg
and arm muscles were well defined.  He looked like he was in good shape and
used to working hard.  His hair looked wild and unkempt, but only in the
sense that it looked like he'd lost his comb or something.  He needed a
haircut, or her mother would think he needed one anyway.

   Debbie realized her muscles were cramped.  She had been staring through
the holes at the man for a long time and hadn't moved.  She backed up and
then had a frantic thought that her brother must be back by now and
wondering where she was.  She turned and made her way back down to the root
cellar, trying to be quiet, and astonished at how much noise her passage
made.  Once she had stuck her head up out of the entrance to the cellar and
made sure the coast was clear, she ran like a deer, dodging between trees
and bushes, squeezing through the fence and arriving at her house panting
and sweating.  She slammed through the back door calling her brother's
name, but got no answer.

   The phone rang suddenly on the wall right by her shoulder and she
jumped.

   "HELLO!" she shouted into the handset, and then relaxed, thinking how
silly she was acting.

   "Honey?" came her mother's voice.  "Are you OK?"

   Debbie sighed.  "Yes Mom, I just had to run to get the phone."

   "Oh" said a confused Ramona Franklin.  "It only rang once."

   "Um ..." mumbled Debbie, trying to think of something to say.  "It rang
a whole bunch of times here." she lied.

   "Well, never mind.  Honey, Robby was here.  Don't do anything!  Do you
hear me?  Don't worry about anything.  I'll explain it when I get home."

   "Mom!" complained Debbie.  "What's going on?"

   "I'll explain when I get home.  Don't worry about it, OK?  Don't you go
over there and bother that man.  Do you understand me Debbie?"

   Her mom's voice held an anxious concern, as if there were something
terrible going on and she was afraid.  It didn't help things at all.

   Debbie's take-charge attitude bubbled up.  "Mommy I want to know what's
going on!" she pleaded.  "Who is that man?  What's he doing over there?"
She almost told her mother what changes had been made to the place and then
remembered she wasn't supposed to know anything about the mansion.

   "Don't be scared, honey." said her mother's voice in her ear.  "I'll
explain everything when I get home.  I have to get back to work.  I'll see
you in a few hours.  Bye bye."

   The phone went dead and Debbie moved the handset to where she could look
at it, like she could will her mother to come back on the line and answer
her questions.  She slumped as she hung it up and leaned against the wall.
She was still breathing heavily.

   Debbie gave out a little shriek as Robby barged in the back door and
almost ran into his sister.  His hands gripped her forearms.  He had ridden
his bike to the bank and was as out of breath as she was.  They stared at
each other for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do or say.

   "Mom said not to worry!" Robby barked as Debbie said "I went over
there!" at the same time.

   Then there were the inevitable "What?!"s as they got control of
themselves and deciphered what each had said.

   Debbie took center stage, though, as Robby stared at her astonished that
she'd gone over there to spy by herself.  As she described what she saw he
got more and more upset.

   "ANYTHING could have happened!" he shouted, getting red in the face. 
"You could have gotten CAUGHT!  He might have HURT you!" He was shaking,
still gripping her forearms, his knuckles white, his fingers digging deep
into her muscles.

   She shook him off "YOU'RE the one hurting me!" she yelled, trying to
shake free of his grasp.  "Let GO of me!"

   His grip relaxed suddenly and she fell backward, against the wall.  She
rubbed first one and then the other forearm.

   "I didn't get caught!" she said, her voice forced.

   Robby felt weak suddenly.  He was thinking about the amorphous man
catching his sister.  His imagination showed him slaps, her blouse tearing,
her breasts exposed to the stranger ...  He shook his head to stop himself
from thinking more.

   He gripped her hands this time, more gently.  "But you COULD have gotten
caught.  Deb he might have done things to you." he whined.  "I couldn't
live without you."

   Debbie felt a flush of warmth in her belly at his words.  Her anger
melted.  She felt an overflowing gush of love for her twin brother.

   She slammed against him, her arms going around him as he hugged her back
instinctively.  Her grip was fierce ...  possessive.

   "You're so sweet." she mumbled into his chest.

   All their surprise ...  their fear ...  their anxiousness ...  all the
unanswered questions and the tension that went along with everything that
had happened ...  it all burst forth in each of them in that embrace.

   This ...  this embrace ...  this intimacy, was something they DID
understand ...  something that made them feel safe and warm.  All the
emotions they felt were suddenly channeled toward that intimacy and the
embrace became sexual.

   They both felt each other's bodies pressed against the other.  Debbie's
face came up and her lips sought her brother's.  It was a crushing kiss, a
bruising kiss, a kiss filled with urgency to do something they both were
comfortable with.

   They'd never done anything sexual at home together.  It was an
unwritten, almost unacknowledged rule.  What they shared was reserved for
the manor, that little girl's bedroom, with the ghosts looking on fondly as
something loving was done in the house that had so many terrible memories
staining it's old walls.

   But the urge was so strong that that prohibition was blown away as if by
a tornado.  Still kissing, still hugging, they fumbled with each other's
clothing, he unbuttoning her blouse and she tugging at the fastening of his
shorts.  His hands roamed across her breasts, his palms scraping her
sensitive nipples as her hand snaked into his shorts to grip his suddenly
stiff prick.  The strangeness of their contact - they had never touched
each other before ...  only watching the other as they sated their passions
- that strangeness didn't seem odd at all.  Too many other strange things
had happened and what they wanted now was something to make them feel good,
and happy.

   Standing in the hallway by the kitchen, though, wasn't what Debbie
wanted.  She wanted to be naked ...  on a bed.  She wanted an orgasm naked
and on a bed, and she pulled him, gasping and panting to the short stairway
that led to her bedroom.  He held her hand with one hand and held his
shorts up with the other as he staggered along behind her.

   No words were necessary and they both stripped out of their clothes
efficiently and quietly.  He got naked first and stood there, his prick
pointing at her like an accusing finger.  As soon as she dropped her
panties she melted against him again, though, that hard cock pressing into
her abdomen.  She shivered, even though both were sweating still, from
their exertions and excitement.

   Since masturbation was what they knew, they gravitated naturally toward
that as Debbie pulled him to the bed and gasped "Touch me."

   They ended up lying side by side, kissing each other with long,
breath-stealing kisses as his fingers fumbled at first between her legs. 
She raised one leg and draped it on top of his to give him room.  Her hand
gripped his cock and slid sensuously along it's length.  Then, because they
had watched each other dozens of times, their hands took on familiar
rhythms.  Her stroke was the same speed he used when he started, and his
two fingers found her electrifying nubbin and began circling it, scraping
sideways across it occasionally.  Almost naturally, as she speeded up and
his prick began to weep its sticky essence, his fingers moved in faster
circles.  She moaned as she felt her orgasm within a hair's breadth away
and jerked him even faster.

   "Oh Robby" she gasped.  "Pinch it for me Robby."

   His slippery fingertips found the bump and he tried to grasp it,
slipping off again and again.  But that squeezing mashed it delightfully
and she tumbled into an orgasm harder than any she'd brought on herself. 
Her tenseness, her whining voice as she made nonsense sounds, and her hand,
still whaling on his prick, brought Robby off and his cock delivered it's
heavy load between them, getting on their stomachs, her breasts and her
hand and arm as she kept pulling.

   "Uhhh ....Uhhhh ...Ahhhhh" groaned Robby as his seed erupted
satisfyingly.  Her hand left his prick to grab his own hand, stopping him
from abusing her clitty any longer.  It was too sensitive now and she
didn't need any more stimulation.  She sagged, her face rolling into his
chest as her hand came to the mess between them and spread its warm mass up
to her breasts and over each nipple.

   "Oh Robby" she sighed.

   There was no shame or remorse.  What they had shared was something
priceless, to be remembered and savored many nights when they weren't
together.

   It had also drained them of their anxiety and worry.

   "I made a mess." said Robby, rolling away from her.

   "I don't care." she said, still stroking her breasts and belly with her
spunk-covered hand.  "We can clean it up before Mom gets home."

   "I really liked that Deb." he sighed.

   "Me too." she sighed back.  "Why didn't we think about doing that before
this?"

   "I don't know." he said.  He rolled back toward her for a kiss,
disregarding the wet between them.  It was worth it to taste her lips
again.

   Eventually his spend cooled, and got uncomfortable for both of them. 
They rolled apart and bounced up off the bed, suddenly energized by the
task of getting the bedspread into the washing machine and using warm wash
clothes to clean each other up.  Robby paid special attention to the fluff
of hair between Debbie's legs and she laughed and pushed him away.

   "Stop!" she giggled.  "You'll get me going again."

   "So?" he asked.

   "Mom will be home soon." she chided.  "I don't think she'd approve."

   "You got that right." he sighed.  "Is what we do wrong Deb?"

   "I don't' think so." she said firmly.  "It feels too good to be
something bad."

   "What are we going to do now?" he asked.  They both knew he was talking
about the loss of their private place.

   "I don't know.  Mom said she could explain it.  All we can do is wait
and see what she says." Debbie sounded sad.

   Chapter Three

   Ramona Franklin's emotions were almost at as high a peak as her
childrens' had been as she drove home from the bank.  She'd known this day
might come.  She'd dreamed that this day might come.  But another part of
her had dreaded this day coming.  It was all tied up with her past, a past
she'd tried to leave behind her like a bad dream.  She'd gone to college,
looking for and hoping to find a man to share her life with so that her
life could be normal.  Up to that point in time her life had been anything
but normal.

   Ramona HAD found a man, whom she had fallen in love with, and who had
presented her with two beautiful, normal, happy children.  That he had been
someone she knew long before she ever stepped upon a college campus was as
much a surprise to her as it was to him.  They had gone to High School
together, but had traveled in different social circles.  She tried to fade
into the background and he was involved in every extra curricular activity
he could fit into his schedule.  She had gone home to study each day, doing
extra work on the weekends, while he dated all the popular girls.

   When they bumped into each other at a Freshman mixer at Welsley College,
she was amazed to see him.  It was an exclusive school, so small that most
people didn't even know it existed.  He had been from a blue collar family,
with limited means.  And he had smiled at her.

   "Hey, is it a small world or what?" he said, walking up to her.

   She hadn't thought he'd recognize her.  "I didn't think you'd even know
who I am." she replied.

   "Are you kidding?  It's great to see a familiar face.  I thought I was
going to be all alone here." he said.

   Their chat had turned into a pledge to study together.  He had obtained
an academic scholarship, and needed to keep high marks to maintain it.  He
was also the first person in his family to go to college, so a lot of hopes
were riding on him.  His manner was so easygoing that Ramona had pushed
away her fear of letting someone close to her.

   By the time they had finished the first semester they were not only
study mates, but they were lovers.  He never questioned why she had no
virginity to make their first time uncomfortable, or that she seemed to
know what to do, perhaps even more than he did.  She never talked about her
past, and he never questioned her about it, seeming to know that she didn't
want to that subject broached.

   They married while they were seniors, when it became apparent she was
going to have his baby, despite the precautions they had taken.  Both
welcomed the marriage and the baby.  That was what young people were
supposed to do.  His family welcomed her into their lives.  She had no
family to ask questions, and her guardian was happy to see her married so
that he could begin to finalize certain arrangements and his task would be
complete.

   When Richard had taken her back to Nettleton, to show her their new
house, a time she should have been overjoyed, she was almost crushed.  She
couldn't believe it was right next to the house that inhabited her bad
dreams, the house in which her parents had been slain, the house that she
never wanted to see again in her life.  Right next door to the Nettleton
mansion.

   Her husband didn't know, of course, because she hadn't told him.  All he
knew was that her parents were dead in a tragic incident.  He didn't know
she was Elizabeth Nettleton, or that, upon marriage, she would receive her
portion of a trust fund that would make them wealthy beyond almost anyone's
wildest dreams.  He didn't know because Ramona didn't want the money.  She
wanted a normal life, free from her past.  The irony of having to live next
to the one place on earth she never wanted to see again was almost
palpable, but she didn't say anything.  She didn't want him to know.  And
when she was summoned one last time to her guradian, who handed her the
legal letter informing her that an account had been established in maiden
name, which she was free to draw upon at her will, she burned the letter,
and the account number with it.

   Her mind drifted, against her will, to the history she wanted to forget.

   When Ramona and her brother had first been carried out of the crime
scene, there had been chaos for a while.  They had been separated at first,
having been placed in an orphanage where boys and girls were not allowed to
mix, whether they were related or not.  Most four-year-olds don't remember
much about what happened to them at that age, but the changes in Ramona's
life were so tumultuous that they were imprinted in her mind forever.

   It had taken six months for her father's will to be found and executed.
That will had very specific provisions in it about who would take care of
the children, and provided funds from the estate to do so.  Ramona's
reunion with her brother was joyous, but relatively short-lived.  The woman
her father had specified as guardian only had charge of them for a year
before her tuberculosis wasted her away.  The court then gave over their
care to another family, a family that the judge classified as "temperate
and stable" and which made their living by fostering children such as the
two.

   Ramona's life had been good with the woman, and her relationship with
her brother had been close.  Their new guardian sent them to boarding
school, paid for by trust funds established in their father's will, but
they saw each other rarely, in arranged formal "sitting room" meetings,
where they were expected to drink tea and have light conversation.

   The house and grounds in which they had lived was also put into trust,
to be turned over to Robert upon reaching his majority.  Money was set
aside to ensure that the property was maintained.  Other funds were put
into trust for the children, but conditions were attached.  For Ramona, she
would receive access to her trust when she married, or finished college,
whichever came first.  For Robert, his trust could not be touched until he
graduated from a university.

   Roger Nettleton had planned well, and his will had been very detailed
and specific.  But, without an advocate keeping a close eye on things and,
people being what they are, things didn't always go as he had planned.  The
money was guarded by banks and the law, and though people tried to get at
it, they failed, for the most part.  Their new guardian didn't care about
the house.  He signed off on authorizations for it's upkeep, but didn't
actually check to see what was happening.  Those funds were skimmed and
pocketed most of the time.

   The boarding school presented inflated bills and expenses associated
with the Nettleton children, and the finite amount of money legally set
aside for that purpose, that should have taken care of their education
through High School, was depleted by the time they were in the eighth
grade.

   When their guardian couldn't find a way to extract more money from the
estate, he was forced to take them into his own home, where they were, for
the most part, unwelcome mouths to feed.  The other fosterlings in the
house had an established hierarchy of "rank".  Ramona and Robert were at
the lower end of the scale, getting only hand-me-downs and the last
helpings of food.

   Their new guardian had had some success in the past at getting money by
having the children take his name.  It wasn't adoption - that would have
ended outside financial compensation - but sometimes a child's trust fund
could be penetrated in the legal twists and turns of such a procedure. 
Ramona, in a vain effort to exorcise the horrors of her past, accepted that
suggestion, adopting her middle name and the last name of her guardian.

   Robert did not.

   While the man's dream of getting access to Ramona's trust failed, she
was glad for her name change when they entered the public school system. 
As they went through school, teachers always perked up when the Nettleton
name was called in class.  No one paid any attention to Ramona Shanks,
though, and she preferred it that way.  People knew she lived in the same
house, and that there was "another Nettleton child", but never put the two
together.

   Robert, knowing the travails of bearing the Nettleton name, did not
publicly acknowledge that Ramona was his sister.  He protected her as best
he could at "home", where they shared a room that was big enough for one
child.  They both tried to keep a low profile, both at home and at school
and, for the most part, succeeded.

   There was a price to pay, however, and that price was that the only
people in the world who loved the Nettleton children were ...  each other.
Their forced proximity at home, sleeping in the same bed well into puberty,
and their reliance on each other for all of their emotional needs, led to a
closeness between the siblings that society would have been horrified at.

   Their guardian, a man with zealous religious convictions, was not aware
of their relationship, and the effect that entering puberty had had on that
relationship.  He worked ceaselessly to convince Robert that service to
mankind as a missionary was the only way to extinguish the evil that had
hounded the Nettleton family in the past.  He tried to convince Ramona of
that as well, encouraging her to become a nun.  There was, in the back of
the man's mind, the thought that if she never married, and Robert never
went to college, all that money would remain in the bank, and he might find
some way to get it.

   Ramona had resisted the man's brainwashing.

   Robert had not.

   He was tortured, not only by their family history, but by the fact that
the only real joy he experienced was when he was in his sister's welcoming
embrace, as they writhed naked in the dark of night, performing their
sinful dance of lust together.  The thought of receiving forgiveness for
what he couldn't control drove him to follow their guardian's plan.  After
High School he joined a group of missionaries, turning his back on wealth.

   He hadn't told Ramona of his decision until the night before he was due
to leave.  She didn't know this was the last time she'd feel his weight
pinning her to the lumpy mattress as he probed her depths with his manhood
and she felt the warm rush of his love spewing into her womb.

   He gave her that one last moment of bliss before he turned her world on
its ear once again.

   Then, he disappeared overseas somewhere, being chased by his own demons.



   She cried bitterly for weeks after he left.  Her loss was assuaged to
some degree by the letters he sent, addressed to her through their
guardian.

   And she responded to those letters.  The letters were forwarded to him
by the people who administrated whatever mission he was assigned to at the
time.  When she went to college he was able to send his letters directly to
her, but she still had to respond by routing her letters through the
mission center, because many times he could collect his mail only every six
months or so.  She told him, over the years of her new life, college,
Richard and her children.  She informed him her desire to keep her past
secret from her new husband.  She knew he was in Africa somewhere, after
having been stationed in several other exotic locations.

   His letters grew fewer and fewer, and hers to him as she found love and
emotional support from Richard replacing that of her distant brother.  When
she and Richard had moved into their new home, and she no longer had a
private mail box in which to receive letters from a man her husband knew
nothing about, she made the gut-wrenching decision to stop writing.  She
had cried about that for weeks too.

   They had not communicated for the past five years.

   She had tried to ignore the unhappy place next door to her new home, and
concentrated instead on loving her husband and raising her twins.  She
hoped that Robert could find some happiness too.

   Then, as if the dark miasma of her former home had sniffed around and
found her, seeping through the iron fence to continue its assault on
normalcy, her husband was killed.  A truckload of paper products was too
heavy, and the brakes of the truck failed as it came down the mountain
side. Richard had seen what was happening and drove for the shoulder.  The
truck driver, thinking to avoid hitting any cars, also headed for the woods
at the side of the road.  Neither could adjust and Richard was killed
instantly.

   Had her twins not been there ...  not needed her ...  she would have
taken her own life.  But she had to go on.  There was only one other person
she could turn to ...  her brother Robert, but the one human in the world
who might be able to fully understand how she felt was beyond her reach. 
She didn't even know where he was any more.  The thought of what it would
take to write a letter, which might not even be read by him for months,
caused her to leave pen and paper lying unused.

   She got a job at the bank, ironically the same bank that still guarded a
fortune that was hers, but which she still thought of as blood money.  She
was aware that, while he was involved in his missionary work, Robert had
somehow obtained a college degree.  Access to personal accounts gave her
the information that he drew from his own fortune from time to time, but
not in large amounts.  He used less than the annual interest his account
earned.  She took comfort in seeing those small transactions, though,
because that told her he was still alive.

   Life had eventually settled back down for Ramona.  Her twins and her job
filled her days for her, as well as her love of reading and quilting.  She
made a half dozen intricate, huge quilts that adorned the beds in the house
and filled several storage containers.

   In honor of her brother's life work, she made a large number of plainer
ones that she donated to Robert's missionary headquarters to be sent
wherever they were needed.  She also gave them to the Salvation Army,
dropping them off as simple donations packed in paper sacks recycled from
grocery shopping.  A woman who worked at the Salvation Army center had
wanted to know her name, but she demurred, simply saying "These are for
whoever needs them."

   Toiling over the quilts gave her satisfaction that she was doing
something worthwhile with the time she had wanted to throw away when
Richard was killed.

   And she was proud of her children.  They were smart, and strong and
happy, untouched by the ugliness of their heritage and unearned wealth that
might have corrupted them.  She knew she'd have to dip into her unwanted
trust fund to send them to college, but that was for a good cause too, and
she didn't want them to have to scrimp and work, like she had forced
herself to do in school.  True, her tuition had been taken care of by the
trust fund, but her living expenses she earned herself, never responding to
letters asking how much she needed for such things.

   She had been tempted, when, after Richard died, her guardian contacted
her and suggested he knew worthy charities that could benefit from the
money she wasn't spending, but she ignored him.  He was a cold and loveless
man, who dominated his wife mercilessly, as if she were chattel.  His
attitude toward the children under his care was also cold and distant.  She
had suspicions about where the money would have gone.  Even though he had
been handsomely paid for his duties under the court appointment that gave
him dominion over the Nettleton children, he had made it quite clear that
he deserved more, and they deserved nothing.

   That she didn't want her children to ever face such a life was a lesson
she learned the hard way.  Her will was up-to-date and even more specific
than her father's will had been when he was murdered in his bed.

   All had been mostly serene.  She found happiness in her children, and
the things she used her time for.  There was an emptiness in her heart
since Richard had been taken, but that pain was less severe than others she
could recall.

   There had been overtures from men from time to time.  She wasn't a
raving beauty, in her opinion, though many of those men would have
disagreed.  Their attention had appealed to the little vanity she had left
in her ...  had made her feel warm and good.  But the idea of laboring
toward a relationship that was more than just dinner now and then, or that
included passion, was something she avoided.  There had been too much loss
in her life to risk more.  Nothing gained meant nothing could be lost, as
far as she was concerned.  That passion still lurked in her, she knew.  She
tried to keep a lid on that, succumbing to her infrequent sexual yearning
only in-so-far as using her fingers to bring release now and again.

   She convinced herself it was enough.

   Yes, life wasn't so complicated that she couldn't enjoy it, all things
considered.

   Until she received a registered letter, in her married name, addressed
to her at the bank.

   It was from her brother.

   She had no idea how he had tracked her down, but he had.  She had read
it so often that its contents were committed to memory now:

   "Dearest Rami,

   I have done what I could to comfort the bereft wherever I found them.  I
have missed you more than I would have thought possible.  Living among the
needy has illuminated my own emptiness.

   I have decided to return to our house ...  to restore it to its former
grandeur, and try to make of it a place of happiness and light.  I know you
want nothing to do with that sad place, but this is something that is
driving me.  I know not what I'll do with it once its darkness is expelled.
I know I may not even be able to do that.  Perhaps I'll donate it to the
county as a museum.  But I know this is something I must do.

   I want to see you again too, dearest sister.  I know you are happy with
your husband and family, and I will not intrude upon that happiness. 
Please find it in your heart to let me see you again when I return, if only
briefly and in secret, and then I shall retreat again, leaving you to your
well-deserved wonderful life.

   The image of your face in my mind has lifted me from despair on more
occasions than I could count.  I know I was never a good brother to you,
but I have learned much about the world and myself in my years abroad.  I'm
not the man you knew so long ago.

   I don't know exactly when I'll be done with this commitment.  I'll
contact you when I return.

   All my love"

   His signature was simple script, spelling "Bobby"

   That had been a rough day for Ramona.  Memories and fears had come
rushing back, affecting her so much that another employee had become
alarmed, asking if she were OK and offering to call for help.  She had
folded up the letter and gotten control of herself, stammering that
everything was fine ...  that it was just a bit of unsettling news.  She
had thrown herself back into her work, concentrating on each of her
customers as if they were the only people alive at the time.

   Later she had re-read the letter, and many times since then.  Her
emotions had undergone a roller coaster-like journey within her mind.  She
was filled with questions.  How could Robert want to have anything to do
with the mansion?  True, he owned it, according to the provisions of their
father's will, but how could he want to restore it?  Could it even BE
restored?  What did that mean for her and her children, living in the
shadow of the place?  How would she feel when she saw him?  What would she
say?  How would all this change her life?

   And then, there was their former relationship to think about.  As
children they had clung to each other, orphaned by cruel circumstance,
living in a cold and loveless place with foster parents who cared but
little for them.  They had naturally bonded much more closely than most
siblings ever did.  That bonding, over the years, had led to things their
guardian would have raged at ...  would have called an abomination.  He had
never known what they did together.  Those times were the few memories
Ramona had that were joyous and happy.  She loved her brother and he loved
her, and nothing could take that love away.  There was bitterness there
too, though, for the fact that their love could not be consummated
publicly. Society forbade that.  Never mind thousands of years of
historical precedence.  Never mind that their love was true and pure. 
Never mind that they could be happy together.  That was not to be ...  not
if the powers of "propriety" had anything to say about it.

   And, knowing that, Robert had foresworn their love and separated from
her, tearing her heart from her chest.  Once again, the only love they had
known was ripped from them by events beyond their control, leaving wounded,
bleeding survivors to make their way in that hostile world as best they
could.

   And now ...  that wound would be reopened.  Robert made it clear that he
didn't intend to interrupt her life, but he didn't know of the changes that
had taken place since her last letter to him.  He made it clear that their
former relationship was a thing of the past, and that he didn't intend to
resume it.  But Ramona's feelings on that point weren't so clear.

   All in all, Ramona was as upset about the "stranger" who had opened the
gates of the Nettleton Mansion after all these years as her children were.
Ironically, their fears were remarkably similar.  Their lives had been
turned topsy-turvy, and the result was an emotional storm of doubt, fear,
and anguish over forbidden love.

   She pulled into her driveway, stopped the car, and laid her head gently
against the steering wheel as she wept quietly.

   Ten minutes later, providence preventing her children from realizing she
was home already, the woman who entered the Franklin household was a
completely different woman.

   "I'm home." she sang, expecting and getting an excited welcome from her
children.

   "Thank GOODNESS you're home!" Debbie said excitedly, skipping into the
living room, where her mother was dropping her purse and keys on the
sideboard where she kept them.

   Ramona held up her hands.  "Be patient a little longer.  We're having a
visitor for dinner tonight.  All will be explained."

   "But Mahhhhhm" came the drawn out protest.  "You HAVE to tell us what's
going on!"

   Ramona, had she stopped to think about it, would have recognized that
her daughter's response to the current "crisis" was out of proportion to
what it should have been.  As far as Ramona knew, her children lived next
door to, but had no interaction with, the sad property next door.  To them,
it should have just been a moldering old house with a mysterious past,
quietly rotting away in the midst of an untended forest of unruly
vegetation.

   But her own emotional state prevented her from recognizing that her
children were MUCH too interested in her old home.  She had never told them
about her past.  When they asked about grandparents she simply reported
them dead and buried long ago.  She had never mentioned the uncle they
didn't know they had, or the fact that Nettleton blood flowed in their
veins.  She assumed they were curious about who had re-opened the Nettleton
place in the same manner as the rest of the town would be when they learned
of it.  The gossip would fly ...  no doubt about that.

   And so, lacking a plan to inform her children of everything she had
omitted from their family history, she had decided just to let Robert
explain it.  Thankfully, he had called her at the bank when he got to town
and began hiring contractors.

   Just hearing his voice had made her so weak she almost couldn't have a
conversation with him.  He'd wanted to see her, but at that time she
couldn't trust herself to be able to stand, let alone conduct civilized
verbal discourse.  Instead of trying to bring him up to date, she had just
invited him to dinner.  She anchored her hopes for rational behavior in the
familiarity of preparing a meal in her own house, with her children nearby.
There would be hours in which they could figure out what to do and how to
explain all this to the twins.

   She hoped it would work.  She had no earthly idea whether it would or
not, but she hoped events would take care of themselves and that she
wouldn't burst into tears or have a complete breakdown.

   Now, though, she faced her daughter, who was by then backed up by her
son.  "I have to fix dinner.  Our guest will be here at seven.  In the mean
time you two need to pick up the house.  It's a pigsty and I won't have
guests in our home with it looking like this."

   There were moans of discontent, but she insisted on keeping to her
"plan" as it were.

   Part of the moans were because the house was already spotless.  Oh,
there was the odd magazine lying here, and an empty glass sitting there,
but Ramona kept a trim ship all the time, and had required her children to
do the same.  In truth that was one reason they were attracted to the
manor. There was no hope of cleaning that place up and, while there, they
could relax and be as comfortable as they wanted to, leaving things lay
wherever they wanted to.  Their mother's training had sunk in, though, and
they had, unthinkingly, slowly straightened and dusted things, at least in
a few rooms, and they usually removed any trash they generated from food
waste they brought into the place.

   So, while they went through the fruitless motions of "cleaning", which
mostly meant picking things up from where they belonged and then putting
them right back where they belonged, the teens tried to communicate without
words about what they thought might be going on.  Anyone else would have
thought it was comical to see them miming and mouthing things at each other
as they did things that didn't need to be done.

   They noticed that dinner was going to be special.  Their mother was
making Lasagna in that special way of hers that meant it was for somebody
important.  Then there were hot rolls, also a special occasion food. 
Finally there was asparagus, which was expensive, and there was a relish
tray with black olives too, along with tiny sweet pickles, and carrot
sticks and even deviled eggs.  She was going all out and that raised the
bar as far as how important this dinner guest was.

   Debbie tried again, while offering to help in the kitchen.  "Who is this
mysterious man?" she asked casually.

   "I told you to wait until our guest gets here.  He'll explain
everything."

   "No, not the man next door.  Who is coming to dinner?" Debbie prodded,
not having any idea that their guest WAS the man next door.

   Ramona smiled to herself.  "I don't recall saying our dinner guest was a
man." she said.

   "Oh come on Mommy" wheedled Debbie.  "OK, who is they mysterious woman
who's coming to dinner?"

   "I don't believe I said our guest was going to be a woman either." said
Ramon, enjoying her teasing.

   Debbie's ire was as instantaneous as it was explosive.  "MOTHER, YOU
TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHO'S COMING TO DINNER OR I'M GOING TO SCREAM!" she
screamed.

   Ramona turned to her daughter with shock on her face.  Debbie didn't act
like this.  These were unusual circumstances, but why could she care THAT
much who was coming to dinner?

   She started to question her daughter, but Robby danced in and pulled at
his sister's arm.

   "Come on Deb, I need your help in here for a minute."

   Debbie shook off her brother's grip and took a breath to make her demand
again.  She was frowning horribly, obviously upset.

   Ramona was astonished to see Robby grab his sister firmly by the waist
and pull her bodily out of the kitchen as she slapped at him and tried to
turn around.

   "DROP IT DEBBIE." he commanded, his voice suddenly deep.

   Ramona was astonished as much by his assertiveness as she was by the
fact that Debbie deflated and let him pull her out.  She started to go
after them, but the sauce began to boil and she had to stop and take care
of that.

   Outside the kitchen Robby shoved Debbie up against a wall and, instead
of reasoning with her, he kissed her, pinning her to the wall between his
arms, pressing his chest against hers.  She tried to turn her head and he
bit her lip gently.  Then as she said "OW!" into his mouth he let her go
and stepped back.  She looked at him with amazement and a little fear.

   "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she hissed in a whisper, looking at the doorway to
the kitchen only ten feet away.

   "Stopping you from doing something stupid." he whispered back, leaning
toward her.  "Leave it alone or she's going to know something's up."

   "Of COURSE something's up you idiot!" whispered his sister, but the
shock of what he'd done had robbed her of her anger and she slumped.

   "Come on" he mouthed, reaching for her hand.  She followed him, almost
stomping, lifting her whole hip to let her leg swing forward, rather than
just walking.  She was pouting.

   He took her to the living room and pushed her down on the couch.

   "It's only forty-five minutes.  What's done is done and you can't force
anything to happen." he lectured her.

   "You're not my boss." she said in a sulk.

   "No, but I'm big enough to spank you." he threatened.

   "You WOULDN'T!" she yipped.

   "Yes I would." he warned.

   "You CAN'T!" she reasoned.

   "I will if you don't settle down." He leaned toward her and she shrank
back from him.  His hands kept coming though and he started tickling her.

   She shrieked and twisted, her hands flailing at him, trying to tickle
him back and they ended up laughing as their mother, done with things in
the kitchen long enough to investigate her children's strange behavior
walked into the room.  Ramona stopped and stared at her completely normal
acting children as they tusseled with each other.  She shook her head,
checked her watch, and, with a harried expression, turned back to the
kitchen.

   The twins had seen her out of the corner of their eyes, and when she
went back in the kitchen they both felt a rush of relief.  Robby snatched
at his sister's breasts and squeezed them once before jumping back as she
charged up off the couch, her hand low and open in a claw, obviously going
for his jewels.

   Now he ran TO the kitchen, where she couldn't grab him in the place she
intended to, laughing as she chased him.

   "Mom!  Debbie's being mean to me." he whined as he ran to his mother and
tried to get between her and the counter.

   Ramona's hands were covered with flour and her son's actions startled
her.  She spun in a circle as Robby got behind her and gripped her waist.
He used her as a shield.  Debbie tried to reach around her mother to pinch
her brother and was laughing as Ramona stood, not knowing what to do, her
hands out.

   "CHILDREN!" she yelled.

   They stopped, and she looked at Debbie, who was grinning.  It was a
moment where prior bonding asserted itself.  As Ramona said "Behave!" her
daughter flowed against her for a hug.  Then her son added his hug to it
and they were suddenly a Mommy sandwich ...  a group of hugging people.

   Ramona was overcome with a sudden rush of love for her children.  As
their fears had evaporated during a sexual act, hers evaporated during a
loving act and she hugged Debbie fiercely.  Then she turned to gather Robby
into one arm, while she gripped Debbie with the other.

   "It's going to be all right." she said, her eyes almost overflowing with
tears of mixed joy and apprehension.  "Everything's going to be fine."

   Debbie, her eyes also wet, said "I love you Mommy."

   Ramona returned it.  "I love you too baby.  I love you both more than
anything in the whole world."

   "I'll be patient." said Debbie.

   "Thank you." said Ramona, unnerved by how much she meant that.

   "Especially if you'll tell me who's coming to dinner." said Debbie,
grinning and kissing her mother on the cheek.

   Ramona barked a laugh and slapped her daughter on her behind, leaving a
ghostly white handprint.  "Now get out of here and get ready.  It's
somebody special.  That's all I'm telling you.  Go on now." she gave Debbie
another whack as they disentangled themselves.

   "And don't wear anything dirty or wrinkled!" called their mother as they
left to go to their rooms.

   Debbie stood in her room dressed only in panties.  She was trying to
figure out what to wear.  Her mother's actions made it plain that whoever
it was that was coming, he ...  or she ...  was somebody important.  So
that meant Debbie should wear something nice.  She chose her favorite
blouse, and a pair of hip-hugging slacks.  She didn't want to wear a bra,
but put one on anyway, since nice girls wore them.  Looking in the mirror
she frowned.  Her hair was a mess.  She grabbed a brush and a rubber band.
A pony tail would have to do.

   Ramona put the final touches on the dishes she had prepared.  Her
stomach was full of butterflies and her knees felt weak.  She had a clear
vision in her mind of her brother, but it was his image at eighteen.  She
knew he had to have changed, as she had.  The last them he'd seen her she
had mere swells for breasts, and was thin and bony.  Good food and children
had changed her body, making it full and rounded.  Her breasts, swollen
with milk for her babies, had stayed full, even when she stopped breast
feeding.  She knew there were a few wrinkles on her face too.  She wasn't
fat, by any means, but she didn't look anything like she had the last time
her brother had seen her.

   She hung up her apron and started for her own bedroom, where she
intended to dress in a dark blue sundress that would be both comfortable
and, she hoped, pretty.  It only had spaghetti straps, so she wouldn't be
able to wear a bra, but her breasts didn't sag too much.  She thought it
would be OK.

   Ramona had taken only three steps when the front doorbell rang.  He was
here!  He was early!  She was a wreck!

   Before she could make any decision about what to do Debbie flashed past
her at a dead run.

   "I'LL GET IT!" she yelled excitedly.

   Robby was close behind, shuffling down the stairs in that light bouncing
way that only young people can descend a staircase.

   "He's early!" squeaked Ramona.

   The world went into slow motion for Ramona.  This wasn't how things were
supposed to be.  She wanted to be the one to open the door, to usher in the
man her children knew nothing about, to introduce him, dressed nicely.

   "WAIT!" she screamed.

   Debbie skidded to a stop by the front door.  Her face turned,
questioning to her mother.

   "I'm not ready!" said Ramona, her voice shaky.

   "We can't just leave him out there!" said Debbie reaching for the knob.

   "But ..." started Ramona, as Debbie turned the knob and pulled the door
open.

   Ramona's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she gasped.

   Standing in the door was a disheveled looking man.  He was stooped, as
if old.  He had a wild nest for hair, and a long black beard.  He was
wearing a trench coat.  He looked like a bum, searching for a handout.

   "Hello" said the man in a modulated voice, somewhere between bass and
tenor.  "I'm mister Smith."

   The reactions from the members of the Franklin family were remarkably
similar though slightly different.

   Debbie gasped and stepped back from the door, away from the man.

   Ramona gasped and stood stock still.

   Robby gasped and took a step forward, his protective instincts on sudden
alert.

   Mister Smith appeared to smile beneath his beard.  "Your mother has
graciously invited me to dinner this evening.  I'm afraid I'm a little
early.  I hope this does not inconvenience you too much." He spoke with a
strange accent, like he wasn't from America, but spoke English fluently.

   Ramona recovered first.  The man's voice was the same one she'd heard on
the phone, and recognized as her brother's.  His appearance was completely
unexpected and ...  wrong somehow.

   "Mister ...  Smith" she said, her voice trembling a little.  "Please
come in.  I apologize for my appearance, but ...  as you said ...  you are
a bit early.  Children!" she barked.  "Get Mister Smith something to drink
and take his ...  coat." That seemed odd to say in the middle of summer.

   Debbie, staring at the man in horror, chose to go to the kitchen,
leaving Robby to step toward the man, his hand outstretched for the coat,
which was still firmly settled on his shoulders.

   Instead Mister Smith gripped Robby's hand and pumped it with vigor.

   "I'm very happy to meet you." he said.  "And your name is ...?"

   "Robby" said the boy with a dry throat.  The man's grip was firm and
warm, what Robby had been told was a "good" handshake.

   "Robby as in Robert?" mused the man, still not taking off his coat.

   "No, just Robby." said Robby.  "Your coat?"

   "If it's all the same to you I'd just as soon wear it." said the strange
man.  "I have a condition ...  it's not catching, mind you ...  but I'm
more comfortable with it on."

   Debbie appeared in the entrance to the living room, a glass of iced tea
in her hand.  She held it out from across the room, as if she hoped he
could extend his arm like rubber to grasp it and she wouldn't have to come
any closer.

   "What a beautiful young woman." said Mister Smith admiringly.  You are
the very picture of your mother..." the sentence was strangely cut off, as
if he had been about to say something more, and then decided not to.

   "Thank you?" Debbie's voice came as a question.

   Ramona came down the stairs.  She was wearing her blue sundress and she
looked fabulous in it.  She had left her hair in a pony tail too, out of
necessity and to save time.  She'd put on a touch of lipstick and wiped at
a dab of flour on her face as she turned away from the mirror.  All she'd
done was smear the flour into a long oblong.

   "A vision of loveliness." sighed the scruffy stranger.

   That caused both teens to turn and look at where he was looking, to see
their mother.

   "Mom!" said Debbie.  "You're barefoot!"

   Ramona looked down at her bare feet as if they belonged to someone else.
She looked up blankly.  "I guess I forgot my shoes."

   Mister Smith laughed.  "Ah, but it is summer anyway, is it not?  And
bare feet are perfect for summer."

   Ramona's plan to announce their uncle had been put on hold.  Ramona,
while she changed, realized that her brother was wearing a disguise for
some reason.  She couldn't imagine why, but he had, so now she didn't know
if he wanted to be identified or not.  She needed a few minutes alone with
him.  Her heart was fluttering as she slipped on the dress.  By the time
she got to the bottom of the stairs her heart was pounding.

   "Children," she said weakly.  "Would you please put the food on the
table while I have a word with Mister ...  Smith."

   Neither child wanted to leave the room, especially Robby, but their
mother stared at them until they left.  Standing there to make sure they
didn't come right back in, she watched the entryway for a moment and then
turned to find "Mister Smith" standing only a foot away.

   "Bobby?" she whispered.  "What are you doing?"

   "Rami, you're so gorgeous." he breathed.  "I thought I remembered your
beauty, but I can't believe how you've changed.  You take my breath away."
Then he jerked.  "I don't want anyone to know who I am right now.  I'm
posing as the caretaker for the house ...  to get things started before the
ruckus there will be when people find out I'm back.  There have been legal
claims filed against the estate ...  vultures who think they can take what
is not theirs.  I don't want to talk to reporters, even if the only ones
that show up are from the local newspaper.

   "The kids ...." she said.  "I was going to tell the kids about you ...
going to let YOU tell them about you." she said helplessly.

   "I didn't think you wanted your husband to know about me." he said
thickly.

   "He died Bobby" she whispered urgently.  "I didn't have the strength to
find you ...  to tell you.  I'm sorry." she said, her mouth turning down.

   He reached out to touch her arm.  "It is I who am sorry.  I have
neglected you and our family name in the pursuit of a mad dream.  I'm so
sorry to hear of your sorrow ...  your loss.  But I need to remain
anonymous a little longer.  Can I do that please?  Would your children tell
people who I am if they knew?

   "I don't know.  It's going to be a shock to them.  I never told them
about you Bobby.  I'm so sorry.  I don't know what I was thinking.  Hearing
your voice now ...  I feel ..." She broke off, wiping an eye.

   "What am I going to tell them now?" she asked frantically.  "They want
to know who you are and what you're doing!"

   "Why would they care so much?" he asked, puzzled.  Then a gleam came
into his eye.  "Unless it is THEY who have been using the house!"

   "Using the house?" asked Ramona.  "What do you mean?  What are you
talking about?"

   "Someone has been using the house ...  being there I mean.  They haven't
bothered anything really, but I found a small collection of valuables, or
things that children might think were valuable in one of the rooms.  And
some clothing has been unpacked ...  our parents' clothing."

   "WHAT?!" came Ramona's astonished reply.  "NO!  It couldn't be them. 
I'd know.  They never go there.  NO ONE ever goes there Bobby!" she gasped.

   "Well then, it is someone else.  No matter, as I said they haven't
bothered anything.  If anything they have kept things in order, somewhat,
and cared for things to some degree.  There has been no vandalism, as I
feared there would be."

   "But what do we tell them?" she asked.

   "Let me handle that." he said.  "I won't stay long."

   "But I wanted to see you!" she moaned.  "To talk to you."

   "I'll be right next door from now on." he said.  "You can come and see
me any time you like."

   "I can't do that!" she said.  "What if somebody saw me?"

   "You work at the bank.  I'll just request that they assign you as my
personal teller ...  to handle all my accounts ...  to assist me in my
mission."

   "They won't do that!" said Ramona with a gasp.

   "Dear Rami, my sweet" he said in natural closeness that was somehow easy
to revive, "In the years that have gone by, the inheritance our father left
us has grown much.  They'll do anything I ask to keep my account in their
little bank.  Did you waste all your money?" he asked gently.

   "No, I've never touched that money." she said breathlessly.  "That money
is tainted."

   "Then my dear beautiful sister, you are rich beyond your wildest dreams.
And the original money is long gone, returned to the treasury or dispensed
to persons.  That money is yours.  You may do with it what you wish, but it
is yours.  Our father provided for us.  What harm can there be in that? 
Think of it as his last gasp of love for us.  He loved us, you know, he and
mother both."

   Ramona's eyes misted and glazed as she recalled one of her dimmest
memories ...  the tall brown haired woman who had sung to her and dressed
her in frilly dresses, taking her for walks in the sun ...  in the
beautiful gardens.  "I remember." she whispered.

   "Then let us to dinner, to answer your handsome children's questions. 
They are beautiful, Rami ...  your children."

   "Yes" she said firmly.  "They are the loves of my life."

   "I used to be the love of your life ...  long ago." he said softly.

   "I remember that too, Bobby." she whispered again.  She wanted to hug
him, to cling to him, but his appearance was so strange and wrong that she
couldn't.

   "Come." he said.  He held out his hand.  She took it, feeling the
calluses of the work he'd done for many years with his hands, and the
strength in them too.

   Debbie and Robby had tried to eavesdrop on the adults in the other room,
but could hear only murmurs of conversation.  They heard their mother
exclaim something, but couldn't hear what it was.  They labored
mechanically, transferring dishes to the table, getting the silverware
their mother had absent mindedly forgotten to put out.  She had used the
good dishes and crystal glasses that they had eaten on perhaps only a dozen
times in their life.

   And for this stranger?!

   Chapter Four

   Having been unable to hear what their mother and the strange
hermit-looking man talked about, curiosity consumed the twins and they
waited impatiently when the mumbling stopped and yet, the adults still
didn't appear.  Debbie craned her neck, trying to peek around the corner
without being seen.  As the adults suddenly walked into view, Debbie saw
that the man was holding her mother's hand.  He dropped it and then looked
directly into Debbie's eyes.

   This stranger looked ...  stranger and stranger.

   They sat, Ramona at the head of the table, with her children on each
side of her and Mister Smith at the other end.

   As dishes of food began to be passed around, the man spoke.

   "Your mother tells me that you two are curious about what is happening
next door, at the old Nettleton place.  This is true, yes?"

   His accent caused Debbie to stutter.  "Y..Y..Yes." The bowl of asparagus
slipped from her fingers and thumped on the table, but didn't spill.

   Debbie blushed.  "Sorry." she said.

   "Well, that is a simple thing to answer." said the man, scooping out a
huge helping of Lasagna.  He held the last spoon full to his nose and drew
in a great breath.  "This is smelling divine to me." he said.

   Ramona scrunched up her face, somewhere between happy and trying to tell
him that the accent was too heavy.

   He passed the bowl to Robby who stared at it.  It was a third empty and
Smith was the only one who'd been served.  He blinked and took some,
unconsciously taking less than he usually would have.

   Debbie had been waiting for Smith to go on, but he didn't, choosing
first salt, then getting three hot rolls, and then asking for butter.

   "Well?" she asked impatiently, leaning toward the man.

   He looked at her through his wild hair and bushy eyebrows and grinned
with startlingly white teeth.  Debbie noticed there was a stick of some
sort stuck in the hair at the top of the man's left ear, like some
carpenters wore a pencil.  The end of the stick looked like it had been
smashed, leaving tiny slivers of wood bunched together.  She stared at it
and he saw where her eyes were.  His hand reached up and felt the stick.

   "This is a makeshift toothbrush." he said amiably, "Such as they use in
the country I have come from." "I have not yet had time to purchase a new
one here in your delightful town."

   Debbie's mouth hung open.  Who used a stick as a toothbrush?  Who went
anywhere without a toothbrush?  She shook her head and frowned.

   "You are having some impatience, yes?" prodded the man, grinning.

   Debbie blushed more, her face going sunburn red.

   "Sorry" she mumbled again.

   Smith laughed, and his voice sounded warm and nice, not at all like he
looked.

   "I should not tease you." he said.  "That is bad manners." But then he
took a bite of the lasagna, getting sauce on his moustache and beard, which
he seemed completely unaware of.  It was disgusting.

   He smacked his lips and leaned back.  "I work for the Nettletons" he
said.  "It is wished for that the old family house be restored.  I am to
oversee that process."

   Had he said a comet was going to smash into the earth and kill
everybody, the impact wouldn't have been any more profound.

   Debbie gulped for air and ended up hyperventilating, getting dizzy and
wobbling in her chair.  Smith was out of his chair in a flash, catching her
before she fell, while her brother and mother stared, uncomprehending.

   "I need a bag." he barked, the accent suddenly much diminished. 
"Something she can breathe into."

   Ramona jumped from her chair like a rabbit jumps when it's been shot,
and scurried to the kitchen.  She came back with a lunch sack and handed it
to him.

   Debbie was flialing weakly and Robby was ineffectually trying to get the
disgusting man to stop touching his sister, but she was almost unconscious
as her lungs spasmed.

   "Hold her" he said to Ramona and he prepared the bag, slapping the open
end over her mouth and nose.  "Hold this to your face little one." he
ordered.

   Debbie's hands came up and pressed the bag to her face, half crushing
it, but her head cleared almost immediately as she rebreathed air poor in
oxygen.

   Smith stepped back to his chair, sat down, and began stuffing lasagna
into his mouth, alternating with bread and asparagus.  He made noises of
appreciation while Debbie got control of herself and her mother hovered
over her.

   "I'm fine Mom." she said, disgusted that this foul stranger had helped
her.  "Go sit down and eat." Her appetite was gone, and she sat, staring at
her plate.

   Smith paused, speaking with his mouth full, his words mushy.  He picked
up the conversation right where it had left off, as if nothing had
happened.

   "This renovation displeases you?" he asked, reaching for tea to wash
down the food.

   "You can't" said Debbie in a small voice.

   "DEBBIE!" came her mother's astonished voice.

   "Well ...  HE CAN'T!" shouted Debbie.  "IT'S NOT RIGHT!"

   "DEBBIE JEAN FRANKLIN" said her mother in a too loud voice.  "WHERE are
your manners?!"

   Smith held up his hand.  "There is much passion in this beautiful
almost-woman." he said, looking at her with piercing eyes.  "This is
America, yes?  In this land you speak freely, is that not so?"

   "Yes!" blurted Debbie.  "And I say you should go back to wherever you
came from and LEAVE US ALONE!" she ended in a shout, her face red again,
this time from anger.

   "Debbie, you are excused to your room." said Ramona, her voice cold and
sharp.  "Freedom of speech does NOT mean you may be disrespectful to our
guest."

   Debbie's eyes were stricken and she ducked her head.  Then it snapped
back up, her eyes blazing.  "I PREFER to go to my room right now mother!"

   She stood and stiffly turned to stalk out of the dining room toward the
stairs.

   Ramona watched her go and then her eyes went to her son, who had sat
mute and stiff throughout the whole exchange.

   "Would you like to tell me what's going on here?" she asked in a voice
that made it clear she expected to be told what was going on.

   Robby didn't know what to do or say.  He couldn't just admit that they'd
played in the mansion for years, that they felt ownership of the
dilapidated place.  That would lead to consequences that couldn't possibly
be happy.

   "It's haunted." he blurted.  "The ghosts will be unhappy.  They might do
things." he suggested vaguely.

   Ramona, whose own spirit had been dampened many times by thoughts of
that old house and the pain it had seen, but who had never thought even
once that she might be "haunted" by an unhappy ghost, laughed, her voice at
the edge of panic.  Then her giggle box fell over with a silent thump and
uncontrollable giggles gushed out of Ramona's mouth until she was gasping
for breath, almost like her daughter had been.  She tried to take a drink
of tea and choked on it.  Now she was trying to laugh and cough at the same
time.  Twin dribbles of tea dripped from her nostrils.

   Again Smith was on his feet and pounding her back lightly, helpless to
do anything else.

   Robby just stared.

   All the tension Ramona had felt building, and only partially released by
her earlier crying session in the car, flooded out with her laughs.  It was
a catharsis she needed badly and, even though she was afraid she'd fall out
of her chair she was ecstatic at the feel of all that unwanted tightness
flowing out of her body.  Then she thought of what she'd look like falling
over, lying on the floor, tea running out of her nose, and she laughed even
harder.  Her brother ...  her dear sweet brother was there.  He was going
to be here next door for a long time ...  maybe forever ...  and that
thought made her feel even better.  She drew in a racking deep breath and
finally got control of her diaphragm.  Now all she had to do was pull in
more air and she'd be fine.

   Smith stood up, staring down at the woman.  "All the women in this
family have these breathing problems, yes?"

   That made Ramona laugh too, but this time it was a short, normal laugh.
She wiped her eyes and cheeks with her palms and, then grabbed the napkin
to rub under her nose.  With her cleared vision saw that Debbie had
returned to the bottom of the stairs and was staring curiously at the scene
in the dining room.

   Ramona pointed at her.  "YOU!" she said.  "If you've found your manners
you may return to the table." Then, a few more giggles chuckled out of her
mouth.

   Debbie turned and went back up the stairs.

   Ramona felt sad at that, but waved mister Smith back to his chair.

   "Ghosts." she said, and giggled again.

   "I'm thinking there are no ghosts." said Smith, beginning to eat again.

   Robby, flushed with shame and anger at his mother's laughter, just sat.
His appetite was gone too.

   "Lots of people think there are ghosts." said Robby sullenly.

   His mother heard the anger in his voice, and she calmed.  "Robby, I
wasn't laughing at you.  Not really.  I think I was just laughing because I
needed to laugh.  I don't think you're silly or anything like that." she
said.  "But I also don't believe in ghosts."

   Robby, his heart sinking, knew beyond his years that nothing he could
say would undo what was going on.

   "I'm not really hungry." he said.  "Can I go?"

   Ramona's first instinct was to say "No.", but she heard the sadness in
his voice and nodded instead.  He got up and walked heavily to the stairs.

   When his footfalls were gone, Robert Nettleton, looking ridiculous in
his sauce smeared false moustache and beard, looked helplessly at his
sister.

   "What was that all about?" he asked.

   "I don't know." she answered truthfully.  "They shouldn't care so much
about what happens over there.  Nobody else does.  I don't understand it."
she said.

   "Are you sure they don't know?" he asked.  "About who you really are I
mean?"

   "Bobby, I've never told them anything.  Just that our parents were gone.
I avoided talking about it, not wanting them to be affected by ...  our
past."

   There was more meaning in her voice than that associated with the house
and grounds of the Nettleton Mansion.  Robert wanted to tell her about
their mother's jewelry box, that he'd found in the wrong room of the
mansion, with things in it that had been put there by someone other than
their mother, including a watch that had to have been their father's.  He
was distracted by the pain in her voice.  It reminded him of his own pain.

   "I missed you so much." said Robert.

   "I wanted to die at first." said Ramona.  "But then I met Richard and it
wasn't so bad.  And then when the twins were born I was happy Bobby ... 
really happy."

   She looked at the strange apparition at her table and then looked away.
As long as all she did was hear his voice she had a picture of 18 year old
Bobby Nettleton in her mind.

   "Didn't you ever find a girl?  To love?" she asked.

   "Oh, there were girls, I suppose, but none to claim my heart." he said.
"My work was such that there was no time or place for romance anyway."

   "That's so sad." said Ramona, her heart going out to him.

   "I'm young." he said.  "And I'm rich.  I won't be alone for long.  Not
in the good old U.S.  of A."

   "I'll have a talk with the kids." said Ramona.  "I'll try to find out
what's really going on." She stole a peek at him.  "I'm glad you're back
Bobby.  I missed you too."

   He grinned.  "Come over and see me sometime.  Bring some more of this
delicious food.  I won't have electricity for two more weeks, and then I
can get some appliances in there and begin cooking for myself.  Man, I've
missed food like this."

   "When do you think you'll go ...  public?" she asked.

   "There are six liens filed against the place, from contractors who SAY
they have been doing upkeep.  That's preposterous and I don't want them to
know they're dealing with me.  All they are doing is grubbing for money. 
More will probably come out as soon as the word gets out that I'm back.  I
have several court appearances to make as Mister Smith and then I should be
able to throw away this horrible hair.

   Ramona giggled.  "It IS horrible.  Couldn't you have gotten something
nicer?"

   "I thought it gave me a colorful appearance." he said, wounded.

   "Yes, but the color is so ...  " she was searching for the right word.

   He finished the sentence for her.  "Crazy?"

   She blushed.  "I didn't say that.  YOU said that."

   "Well, I won't wear it when you come to call." He dug in the pocket of
the coat he was still wearing and handed her a shiny brass key.  "This goes
to the padlock on the gate.  I oiled the hinges and it now works
flawlessly. I don't lock the house.  Haven't gotten around to finding the
right locksmith.  The ghosts will keep everybody else away." he said
grinning.

   "What will I tell the kids?" she asked, a flutter in her stomach at the
idea of going back to the house she'd stayed away from for so long.

   "Bring them along." he said.  "I have an idea the disguise idea was a
bad one ...  at least with them.  Who knows?  I probably didn't need a
disguise at all.  Who around here would recognize me anyway?  I think I
only used it because it was such an exotic idea."

   He stood up.  "Now, I'd better go.  You have two unruly children to deal
with.  If they give you too much trouble come get me and I'll come back and
scare them half to death." He grinned again.

   "I'd kiss you goodbye, but I'm not going near that mess you have on your
face.  I hope you have water over there." said Ramona.

   "Water I have in plenty.  The old well is still good and the pump worked
fine once I replaced the leather gasket.  It's cold, but I can always warm
up some for a whore's bath on the wood stove.  As for the kiss ...  I'll
save it for you..."

   Ramona blushed.  "That was a long time ago Bobby." she said.

   "I know." he said back.  "I really missed you Rami."

   Then he went to the door and let himself out with a wave over his
shoulder.  Ramona stood and just tried to decide how she felt.

   It took quite a while, as she turned the shiny brass key over and over
in her fingers.  Finally she went upstairs to talk to her children.

   She found them together.  They were in Robby's room.  Robby was lying on
the bed, while Debbie paced back and forth.  She stopped when Ramona
stepped into the room.  Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks tear-stained.

   "Why is that old place so important to you two?" asked their mother.

   Debbie slumped.  Like Robby, she just couldn't confess to what they'd
done for so many years.  It was their secret.  It wasn't their sexual play
that was uppermost in Debbie's mind.  It was the length of time the secret
had been kept from her mother.  She knew her mother would be hurt by the
truth.

   As they say, the best defense is a good offense.

   "Mom" said Debbie, her voice under control now.  "You treated that ...
man ...  like he was somebody special.  You fixed your best dinner.  We
used our best dishes.  You were excited, Mom.  But when he got here you
acted like you'd never seen him in your life.  Who is he?"

   Now it was Ramona who had a fifteen year secret she'd kept from the two
people she loved most in the world.  And she had no idea how to tell them
about that secret, and all the other secrets she had kept for their entire
lives ...  even beyond their entire lives.

   "He's somebody I knew a long time ago." she sighed.  "He looked
differently than I expected him to and it surprised me.  He was very
important to me back then.  That's all I can tell you about him.  I want to
tell you more ...  but I can't.  Not yet.  In a few weeks, maybe." Her
voice was defeated.  She knew her children would not stand for that answer.
"It's very complicated."

   "How could you have known him long ago?  It's obvious he's from some
foreign country.  I don't understand." Debbie's voice was defeated too.

   "Mom?" came Robby's voice.

   "Yes sweetheart." she said back.

   "Do you trust us?"

   That surprised Ramona.  "Of course I trust you.  I love you." she said.

   "OK, we trust you and love you too." he said.  "How about this?  How
about you trust us when we tell you we really care about that house.  We
can't explain why, but it's true.  And we'll trust you when you tell us
that you know that man, and that he's not a bad man.  He's not, right?"

   Ramona smiled tiredly.  "No, he's not bad.  He's a very good man."

   "He scares me." said Debbie.

   "He would never hurt you for anything in the world." said her mother.

   "OK, if you say so, but he's still scary.  That hair ...  the way he
eats.  He eats like he's starving, or has never had good food in his life.
It's just weird." Debbie went and sat on the edge of the bed, by her
brother.

   "He said he's going to restore the house.  What does that mean exactly?"
asked Robby.

   "There used to be beautiful gardens all around it." said Ramona, her
voice going soft as she remembered.  "And the house was painted and the
tower roof was covered in shining copper shingles.  And there were
beautiful rugs and servants and music.  It was a beautiful place then." she
said.

   "How do you know that?" asked Debbie, her imagination fired by the
description.

   Ramona jerked, coming back to the present.  Her words had been
dangerous. "I ...  ahh ...  talked with Mister Smith about it.  Back then
he lived there." She folded her arms.  "I think Robby's idea is good.  I'll
trust you two, and you trust me.  In a few weeks there may be enough
changes that your questions will be able to be answered.  Maybe mine too.
OK?"

   There was a duet of sighed "OK"s from the bed.

   "Now, let's all go down and clean up together.  I'm too tired to do it
all by myself.  For calling it such a special meal you two sure didn't eat
much of it.  I could warm some up if you want ..."

   As if on cue, Debbie's stomach growled and she giggled.  The rest of the
evening was spent much more happily than before as they all put the old
house out of their minds and were just a family.

   The next day, though, after their mother had gone to work, Debbie
charged into her brother's room, where he was still sleeping.  She jumped
on top of him, tickling him mercilessly.

   "Wake up lazy bones!" she squealed.  "Let's go see what that horrible
old man is doing to our house!"

   Robby tried to defend himself by grabbing his sister's breasts and
squeezing them.  It didn't work.  All she did was lean into his hands.

   "Mmmm that feels nice.  I should have let you touch me a long time ago."

   "I don't recall asking to touch you." he said, moving his hands in
opposite directions and then back again, making her braless breasts bounce
sideways.  They were too firm to hit each other though.

   She sat up and pushed his hands away.  "So, come on, let's go!" she said
excitedly.

   "You're crazy." he said, his hands moving to her thighs.  She was
astride him like she was riding a horse.  "We can't go over there any more.
That man would probably chop us up and cook us on a campfire."

   "No he wouldn't.  You heard Mommy.  She said he'd never ever hurt us,
not for anything."

   "That doesn't mean he'd be happy to see us.  Besides, what are we going
to do, just walk up to the place and say "Hi, we just thought we'd drop by.
Seeing as how we yelled and screamed at you last night we thought we'd be
all friendly today.""

   Debbie put her hands on top of his hands, which were on top of her
thighs.  She stroked the back of his hands with her fingertips.

   "No, silly.  We're going to spy.  From the secret passage.  Through the
peep holes.  I just want to keep an eye on him and see what he's doing. 
Besides, if our stash is still there maybe we can get it while he's in some
other part of the house.  Don't you want your watch?"

   "Didn't mom say he used to live there?" asked Robby.  "Maybe he knows
all about the secret passages."

   "Of course not." said Debbie firmly.  "That's why they're called secret
passages, because they're secret.  Those were made when the house was new,
and there's no way mister Smith could have lived there more than what ...
twenty or thirty years ago maybe?  He's not old enough to have lived there
before that.  And he'd have had to be a little boy too if he lived there
back then." She stopped and thought for a moment.  "You know what?  I bet
he and mom went to school together or something like that.  And they played
together, or he was her boyfriend, like when they were in forth or fifth
grade or something.  And he lived in the house and Mom lived wherever she
lived ...  where DID mom grow up?" Debbie was getting animated by her
imaginary assumptions.

   "I don't know." said Robby.  "But I'd rather stay here and play naughty
with you.  Maybe they played naughty when they were little." said Robby,
his hands sliding up Debbie's thighs and onto her waist, moving ever upward
toward her breasts again.

   "Robby!" Debbie was scandalized.  "That's our MOTHER you're talking
about." She screwed up her face.  "Ewwwww, can you imagine mom with that
... man?!"

   She jumped up, eliciting a grunt from Robby as her firm hard butt
bounced on his stomach.

   "Come on, get up, let's go!" she demanded.

   Robby got up and unabashedly stripped off his PJ bottoms, showing his
morning woody to his sister while he pulled on a pair of shorts.  She
stared intently at it, but didn't move to touch him.

   "Maybe we'll play naughty later." she said, and then danced out of his
reach toward the door, teasing him.  She pulled her T shirt up, showing him
her naked breasts and backed out the door.

   "Come on baby, you want these?  Come on, just follow little Debbie and
maybe she'll let you play with them." She had to turn and run to avoid
being caught and laughed as she ran out through the back door and into the
yard.

   Though she had run outside, Debbie didn't head for the fence to the
Nettleton Mansion.  Instead she ran around the house a couple of times,
staying just ahead of her brother, teasing him.  She ran like the wind and
loved that he couldn't quite catch her.  When he finally slowed down,
panting for breath, she slowed down too, still walking, until they got to
the back of the house, where no one in the neighborhood could see them.

   Then she let him catch her.  She tried to kiss him, as consolation for
besting him in the race, but both were breathing too hard for it to really
work.  They waited until they were sure their mother wasn't coming back
home because she forgot something.  Then they walked to the fence where
their "private entrance" was and slipped through.

   As they penetrated the dense forest, they began to hear noises that were
foreign to ears tuned to the normal silence of their fantasy play place. 
Instead of going to the root cellar, which meant they'd be exposed for the
few seconds it would take to get to the entrance and down the stairs, they
stayed to the woods and did a circuit of the house to see what was going on
outside.

   They were astonished.

   There were trucks and vans everywhere, parked all over what had, at one
time been lawns and gardens.  One had a sign on the side that indicated it
was from a plumbing company.  Another one was an electrical contractor. 
There were two from the local garden center, and they had a tractor with a
bucket on the front that they were using to clear swaths of weeds and
bushes away from around the house.  There was a truck with no sign, but two
men who wore white coveralls spattered with paint, suggesting they were
painters.  Another truck was from a roofing company.  There was a tractor
looking thing that had a long arm on the back, with a scoop on the end, and
it was digging a long trench from the house toward the street.  They winced
as they realized if it kept going more of their cherished forest would be
destroyed.

   There were ladders up against the house in several places, and men on
them, taking things off the house and others putting things on the house.
The whole place looked different already, though most of that was just
because of activity, and not substantive changes to the appearance of the
house itself.

   Still, it was obvious that the appearance would change.  Already the
house looked like it stood straighter, without the sag it had always seemed
to have, like it was coming awake after a long slumber.

   As they watched a truck left, and another one came.  It was met by
mister Smith, still wearing his long black trench coat, his beard and hair
only a little less tangled.  Debbie thought she'd see old crusted lasagna
sauce in that beard if she were close enough.  She shuddered.

   Smith was flitting from one place to another, talking to this man, or
that, pointing and gesticulating.  The tractors made too much noise for
them to hear what he was saying, but it was obvious he was issuing
directions to the contractors.

   The great double front doors stood wide open, letting sunlight into the
foyer, which had not seen such light in decades.  Two men were climbing
twin ladders, set only a few feet apart, and were carrying something square
between them, up the ladder.  Whatever it was it sparkled and glistened in
the sun, in vivid colors of red, green, blue and a golden color that could
only be called yellow by a blind person.

   "It's stained glass!" whispered Robby, close to his sister.  The men
stopped at an open hole in the side of the house, where a window had been
removed.  Carefully they fitted the new window into the hole and did
something to make it stay.

   Another truck arrived, a larger one, with a flat bed heaped with all
kinds of things.  There was copper piping, and boxes marked as containing
toilets and sinks.  There were coils of black that looked like wire of some
kind.  Men got out and began carrying things into the house.

   Yet another van arrived, this one marked as the delivery service for a
dry cleaning establishment.  Two people got out of it with folded boxes and
went into the house.

   Robby noticed that Debbie was panting, as if she'd run.  He moved and
saw tears running down her cheeks, dripping to the forest floor.

   He reached out to touch her arm and she turned her tear streaked face to
him.

   "They're changing everything." she sobbed, melting into his arms.  "I
HATE HIM!" she screamed.

   Robby hushed her, but there was really no chance her cry had been
overheard.  He hugged her to him as she sobbed.  Finally he let her go and
took her hand.

   "Come on." he said.  "There's nothing we can do here."

   He was just about to lead her back home, when a car drove into the chaos
of vehicles littering the yard.  They stared at the car.

   It was their car.

   Their mother was driving.

   Crouching down in the bushes they watched as Ramona got out and stood,
in the open door, staring at all the other vehicles, and at the house.  She
didn't move for a long time.  Then, reaching into the car and removing a
leather briefcase, she took a few tentative steps toward the house.

   "Maybe she's got something in there to make them stop." whispered Robby.

   That hope was dented a little when SMITH saw their mother and hurried
over to her.  He started to embrace her, plain as day, but then dropped his
arms and stood back, looking over his shoulder at the contractors scattered
around the grounds.  He took her elbow and led her into the house.

   "What's she doing here?" asked Debbie, puzzled.

   "I don't know." said Robby, puzzled himself.

   "We've got to get in there!" said Debbie, standing up.

   "We can't get past all those people!" said Robby.

   "The secret way, you Dodo." she said, looking at him like he was daft.

   "I don't know Deb." he said uncertainly.  "What if we make a noise or
something?  They could hear us and then what would we do?"

   "There's no way they could hear us with all that noise going on." said
Debbie.  "You're CHICKEN!  Aren't you!"

   As anyone knows, that's probably the best way to get a fifteen year old
boy to do just about anything he probably shouldn't do, and it worked just
like it would have on any other fifteen year old boy.

   Debbie had to run to catch up to her brother, who was stomping through
the woods in an arc that would bring them to the back of the root cellar.

   "Be careful." warned Debbie, afraid she'd made him so mad that he might
do something stupid.

   "What's the matter?  he growled.  "You turning CHICKEN?"

   "I'm sorry Robby ...  come on ...  you want to know what she's doing in
there don't you?"

   He stopped and turned as she almost ran into him.  "If we get caught, I
AM going to spank you.  I PROMISE!" Then he turned and went on.

   They waited briefly in the bushes, watching the back of the house, but
there was only one man on a ladder there, and all his attention seemed to
be on where some boards had been removed on the side of the house.

   They made the dash to the steps and skipped steps getting down into the
cellar.  Without waiting to see if anyone raised the alarm, Robby jerked
open the secret door and they ducked into the tunnel.  Again, they had
forgotten to bring a candle, but again, they both knew the tunnel so well
they could negotiate it in the pitch black with no problem.  Still, Robby
went first, while Debbie held on to his waist.

   Robby pulled gently at the door.  They had used it so much that it
opened easily now, though the hinges squeaked.  They had never thought to
oil them, since whenever they were there they were alone.

   There was a little light in the secret passage, coming in from the peep
holes.  While it would have seemed dark to most people, after the pitch
black of the tunnel it was a little like being outside in starlight to the
teens.

   There were thumps that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at
once as they stepped gently up the staircase.  They saw nothing at the
first peepholes, and then a painter at the third.  Going on up a level,
where the bedrooms were, they went to the peephole that led into "their"
bedroom.  The room was empty.  Their box of treasure was still sitting
where they had left it before.

   They struck pay dirt at the big bedroom, with the four poster bed.

   The teens peered silently into the big bedroom where they had played
dress up so many times.

   Smith and their mother were in that room, along with one of the people
who had gotten out of the Dry Cleaner's van.  Ramona was standing along one
wall while Smith instructed the man on what to pack into the box.  The
hangings from the four poster went into one, and the curtains from the
windows went into another.

   "And everything in those chests." he pointed to the cedar chests where
the clothing Robby and Debbie had worn for years was packed.  "But you can
get those another day.  Do you think these can be repaired and cleaned?" he
said lifting up a drooping corner of cloth from inside one of the boxes.

   "They're pretty old, but I'd say they're in fair shape.  I have to tell
you though, Mister Smith, this is going to be expensive.  We'll have to
re-weave a lot of the holes, and finding fabric - genuine period fabric
will be expensive too.  It would be cheaper to just have new ones made."

   "No!" barked Smith.  "Only if something is too deteriorated to save.  I
want to save as much as possible.  Expense is not an issue."

   "Well, it's your money ..." said the man, packing up the boxes.  The
other man came in and helped him carry the boxes out.

   Debbie and Robby had to trade off using the peep hole.  They whispered
to each other as to what they were seeing.  The voices were faint, through
the wall, but there was only lath and plaster between them and the people
in the room, and they could hear through that fairly well.

   Debbie watched as Smith looked out of the bedroom door and then closed
it.  She heard the thunk of a latch being thrown.

   "I told you they'd assign you to me if I wanted them to." he said to
their mother.

   "It was amazing!" said Ramona.  "I got called into the president of the
bank's office and he instructed me that I was to do anything you wanted me
to."

   Smith stood, looking at their mother.  "Anything?" he leered.

   "Bobby," said Ramona, "I'm here on business."

   Bobby?  thought Debbie.  His name was Bobby?

   "All work and no play makes ...  Bobby a dull boy." he grinned.

   "Do you have to keep that horrible thing on your face all the time?"
asked Debbie's mother.

   "Not when we're alone." said the man, and, to Debbie's astonishment he
reached up and pulled off his hair.

   Debbie gasped and stepped back and ran into the wall on the opposite
side of the secret passageway with a thump.

   Robby was at the peephole instantly, just in time to see the man throw a
black, hairy mass on the bare mattress of the big bed.  There was smooth
brown hair on his head.  Then he pulled at his beard and Robby saw sticky
strings of something that had glued it to his face pull away.  He tossed
that on the bed too and stood, looking at Ramona.

   "Is that better?" he asked.

   Ramona was staring at the man, the briefcase hanging from her hand.

   "You look so different." she said softly.

   "It's been a long time Rami." he said.

   "You're so handsome." she said.

   "Not as handsome as you are beautiful." said the man who called himself
Smith.  He stepped toward Bobby's mother.  "I missed you so much Rami."

   Then, to Robby's astonishment, she rushed into the man's arms, into a
kiss that was obviously voluntary and as heartfelt as when Robby kissed his
sister.

   Now it was Robby who staggered away from the peephole, running into his
sister's soft body.  She held his waist with her hands to stabilize them
both.

   "What's going on?" she whispered.

   "He kissed her." gasped Robby.

   "WHAT?!" said Debbie, her voice like a shout in the confines of the
narrow hallway.

   "Shhhh" said Robby instinctively.  "She kissed HIM." he corrected
himself.

   Debbie shoved him to one side and pressed her face to the holes.

   "They kissed each other." whispered Robby.

   That kiss was still going on as Debbie's eyes focused on the adults. 
That, and a whole lot more.  The now brown-haired and clean shaven man the
same man she had seen before when she peeked the last time - had his hand
cupping her mother's breast, and Ramona's arms were wrapped around his
neck.

   Ramona pushed him away.  "We can't Bobby." she said.  She didn't make
him remove his hand, which stayed right where it had been, lifting the
breast, and squeezing it.

   Debbie's mouth was hanging open.  Robby tried to move her but she pushed
at him with one hand.

   "Is there a man in your life sweet Rami?" asked the man.

   "Of course not." said Ramona.  "But there are all kinds of people
around."

   "I locked the door." he said.

   "The drapes are gone from the windows." said Ramona.

   Debbie couldn't quite get her mind wrapped around the conversation.  It
almost sounded like they were talking about ...  sex.  But that couldn't
be!

   "No one is working on that side of the house.  I'm on fire for you
Rami."

   Debbie bit her lip.  This man called her mother by a pet name.  Rami was
obviously short for Ramona.  Who WAS he?  Why had he come to their house
wearing a fake beard and moustache.

   "You left me." said her mother, her voice accusing.  She looked at the
briefcase in her hand as if she'd forgotten it and set it down.  Debbie's
unbelieving eyes saw her mother's fingers go to the buttons of her white
blouse and begin unbuttoning them.

   "I had to, my sweet." said the man.  "I thought I could save the world.
Only that could have taken me away from you."

   Ramona unbuttoned her blouse, as if she were alone in her own bedroom.

   "I cried for you Bobby." said Ramona, pulling the blouse apart and out
of the waistband of her skirt.  She bared her lacy white bra to this
stranger.

   Debbie stepped back again, her hand covering her mouth.  What her mother
was doing made no sense of any kind ...  in any way.  It was like watching
a dream, that couldn't be true, but that you were having anyway, and you
couldn't make it stop.

   Debbie's place was immediately taken by Robby.  He gasped and his two
hands went to the wall, making a small sound.  He saw his mother turn and
look directly at him.

   "What was that?" she asked.

   Robby stared at her flat naked stomach, and the bulging bra cups, with
their deep cleavage showing milky white skin.  The man was staring at his
mother's breasts too.

   "This house makes many noises." said the man.  "Seeing you again makes
me want to make a little noise too."

   Robby watched, his brow furrowing, as his mother laughed.

   "I haven't had a man in a long long time Bobby." she said, removing her
blouse and folding it neatly.  She bent over and placed it on top of the
briefcase.  Then, as if it were the most normal thing for his mother to do
in the whole world, she unclipped and unzipped her skirt and bent over,
stepping out of it.  It joined her blouse as she stood before the man in
only panties and bra.

   "Oh sweet baby, I've waited so long too." the man said, tearing at his
clothes.

   Robby watched in stark disbelief as his mother reached behind her and
the bra fell down her arms to reveal her soft breasts.  She had brown
nipples Robby had never seen, or could never remember seeing.  They were
much bigger than Debbie's pink ones, thick, and they looked firm, sticking
out from her slightly sagging breasts.  For some crazy reason Robby found
himself noticing that those nipples didn't' point straight ahead, like
Debbie's did.  Instead like eyes with something wrong with them, they
looked in slightly different directions.

   Robby's eyes went to the man, who had somehow become naked, his penis
standing straight out from a fluff of brown hair that was as wild as the
man's wig had been.  That penis looked long, but bent.  The man was uncut,
like Robby himself, but he was so hard that the glans of his penis pressed
forward, like it was trying to escape being confined by his foreskin.

   "Shit" said Robby under his breath.

   "What's happening now?" came Debbie's plaintive soft cry.

   "They're naked." he whispered.

   Debbie shoved him sideways, and he pushed off the wall to keep from
snagging on one of the upright boards that the lath was nailed to.

   "Hey!" he whispered loudly.

   "I want to SEE!" she whispered back, pressing her face to the wall.

   Technically, "they" weren't naked yet, since Ramona still had on her
panties.  But Debbie's eyes were drawn to that long fleshy lance that was
pointing at her mother.  The only other one she'd ever seen was Robby's,
and they looked the same and vastly different at the same time.  Her eyes
flicked to her mother, whose clothes seemed to have magically vanished
since Debbie last saw her.  Debbie sucked in a breath as her mother bent
over and slipped her panties off.  She stood up, holding them hanging off
of her index finger, and let them fall lightly on top of her folded clothes
like she had practiced doing that for years.

   "You're so beautiful." said the man, stepping toward her mother.

   "It's been so long." replied her mother.

   Then they embraced, and that long thick penis slid naturally between her
mother's legs as the couple kissed what was obviously a kiss in the French
way.  Her mother leaned forward into the man's body, her hands pulling him
against her.  Debbie was numb from the shock of what she was seeing. 
Children never see their parents as sexual beings, particularly not with
complete strangers who are somehow vastly too familiar to be strangers.  It
almost made her head hurt.

   Still, the curious girl inside her body wanted to see what would happen
next.  That part of her mind held her steady, her eyes staring through the
peep holes, while another part of her brain railed that this was wrong,
that she must do something to stop what was happening, that the man was not
only destroying her house, but he was destroying her mother at the same
time.

   If Ramona was being destroyed, she didn't appear to mind much.  She
broke the kiss and stepped past Smith, pulling his hand, leading him to the
bed.  The mattress that had been sagging against the wall when Debbie was
last here, was now back on the bed.

   "I'm sopping wet for you." said Ramona.

   Debbie gasped.

   She saw her mother lie down on the bare mattress, uncaring that there
were no sheets on it ...  that it was dusty ...  and assume what could only
be called a pose of invitation, her legs spread wide, and her arms
outstretched.

   Smith sank down on her mother and Debbie saw her own mother's hand grasp
his manly gristle and bring it to her pussy lips.  She watched in horror as
that tip of that hard thing penetrated her mother's sex and began to slide
into her body.

   Debbie stepped back a third time, her hands coming up to cover her eyes,
as Robby crowded in front of her to look.  He gasped too, because what he
saw was the opposite.  He saw the man on top of his mother, at full
penetration, drawing slowly out until his penis left her, a string of white
connecting them, before lowering his penis almost tenderly to kiss and then
penetrate his mother's nether lips again.

   There was a duet of moans, clearly heard in the secret passageway, of
two people enjoying themselves to the utmost.

   Then, before Robby's unbelieving eyes, Smith fucked his mother.  There
was no other word for what they did.  Smith lunged and thrust hard, his
buttocks clenching hard with each thrust, and Ramona's body shook, as if
with punishment.  Robby believed it was rape at first, and was ashamed that
he was rigid in his own pants, and unable to break down the wall to save
his mother.

   But her hands came to Smith's back and caressed it, sliding to his
buttocks and, as they clenched for another assault on his mother's pussy,
her hands pulled, digging her fingernails into his ass, clearly encouraging
the man to plunder her sex.

   Now there were grunts from the man and little yips and squeals and soft
wails from their mother, sounds that made heat bloom in Debbie's loins,
despite her attempts to crush those feelings.  And they made Robby's prick
jerk in his pants and begin to leak.  They were the sounds of real, live,
honest-to-goodness sexual intercourse taking place between two people who
were having a wonderful time engaging in that intercourse.

   Decades later, there would be a popular slogan aimed at convincing kids
not to take drugs, and not to have sex.  It would be called "Just say no!"

   Now, in this time, the sounds the teens could hear their mother and this
stranger making very clearly said "Just say YES!"

   Debbie leaned weakly against the wall behind her brother.  She couldn't
watch any more.  The sounds were more than enough to make her feel
helpless. She tugged at Robby, but now he brushed her away, staring at the
tableau before him.  Smith was wild now, his buttocks rising and falling at
an astonishing rate as Ramona wrapped her legs around him.

   "For you my sweet!" the man roared and he drove in one last time and
stopped suddenly.  His balls went from flopping all over the place to
hanging straight down in that way that only happens when it's very hot. 
Then those balls jumped three times in a row ...  not much, but enough to
be noticeable ...  and the man gave a long groan of almost despair.  Then
he pulled out and began to slide in and out of his lover again, slowly, as
she took up the groan that got louder and higher in pitch until it was a
whine that sounded like she was in awful pain.

   Robby stared as he saw a ring of thick white build up around the man's
penis where it went into his mother.  The man had ejaculated in her.

   Ramona's whine of release ended in a gasped "I love you so much Bobby."
as the man collapsed on top of her and they were still, except for Ramona's
hands, which slowly and gently slid all over Smith's back.

   "I missed you so much, Rami." came Smith's muffled voice.

   "Please don't leave me again." came the voice that Robby's ears told him
was his mother's voice, but which he couldn't put with her face.  It was
just too unreal.

   As Robby pulled his eyes away from the holes, Smith said "I'll never
leave you again, my darling."

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

   How the two teenagers got back to the root cellar they could not have
told you.  One moment it seemed as if they were in the dusty secret
corridor between rooms, and the next they were standing at the bottom of
the stairs that led up and out of the root cellar into the sunshine.

   Brother and sister blinked, looking up into the bright light.  Their
emotions were in a turmoil, something they should have been used to,
perhaps, by now, but they were unable to fully process what they'd
witnessed.

   As they squinted at the bright light outside, both had an unconscious
desire to stay in the root cellar, where it was safe ...  where they had
hidden from imagined perils in the past, and now wanted to hide from
something that seemed so strange that it felt ...  dangerous.  They had
lived with their mother for their entire lives, but the woman they had seen
through the peep hole acted nothing like the mother they knew.

   Their mother obviously knew the man from the past some time ...  some
place.  That much they knew.  But the fact that he wore a disguise derailed
their thinking.  Why would he do that?  Their mother had been expecting the
brown haired man for dinner.  HE was the special guest.  And the disguise
had thrown HER too.

   "What should we do?" whined Debbie, her voice small.  She felt small in
a huge strange world right now, like a small mouse who didn't want to
expose herself to the hawk she knew was drifting on the wind somewhere up
in that bright sky outside.

   "My penis is hard." said Robby.  He felt the need to say something, but
couldn't think of anything else.

   "What!?" asked his sister, turning to look at him.

   "I got hard watching them." he said, his eyes wide.  "Having sex." he
added unnecessarily.

   Debbie put her hand on the front of her brother's shorts.  There was a
big hard lump there.

   He jumped as he felt her hand on his erection.  "What are you doing?" he
asked.

   "I don't know." she said.

   They were both so confused that even something relatively normal for
them seemed odd somehow.  she took her hand away.

   "What should we do?" she asked again.

   "Go home?" suggested Robby.  "I don't know what to do."

   "Why would mom do that with ...  him?" asked Debbie.

   "I don't KNOW." grumped Robby.  "She acted like she loved him."

   "How could she love him?  Where did he come from?"

   "I don't know that either." sighed Robby, remembering the way his mother
had touched the man ...  gently ...  lovingly ...  welcoming him into that
intimate embrace.

   "But she DOES love him." he convinced himself.  He just couldn't
understand her actions unless they were based on love."

   "Maybe we could talk to her." said Debbie uncertainly.

   "How are we supposed to do that?" scoffed Robby.  "What do we do?  Do we
just say - Hey Mom, we happened to see you boffing the fuck out of that
strange guy who showed up at dinner, and we were just sort of wondering why
in the FUCK you would do THAT?"

   "Don't curse Robby" scolded Debbie automatically.  "It's vulgar."

   "Let me get this straight." said Robby, turning to her full on.  "You're
upset because I said the word, and meanwhile our mother is in there DOING
the word!"

   "Well don't yell at ME." she said, getting even more upset.  "I'm not
the one in there on my back with my legs spread!"

   That image shocked Robby so much that his mouth opened and closed
several times, like a goldfish in a bowl.

   "Let's not fight ...  please" she pleaded.  There were tears in her
eyes, glistening in a shaft of light coming from above.

   Robby hugged his sister and she melted against him.  Once again, their
passion for each other insulated them from the strange and troubling thing
they'd just seen.  They felt safe holding each other ...  a sense of
normalcy.  That passion flared in each of them and the hug turned into a
kiss as they fed on each other's emotion.

   Debbie pushed him away.  "Let's go home.  Mom went there on bank
business.  She'll have to go back to the bank.  She won't be home until
tonight."

   ready to post

   Chapter Five

   Debbie's unspoken promise about what they'd do when they got home
spurred Robby and he climbed the steps, carefully peeking outside.  When he
didn't see anything he reached for her hand and they bolted up and out of
their haven.  Seconds later they were in the woods and running, hand in
hand, for the fence.  They slipped through the fence as if their bodies
were greased and dashed for the back door.  Not stopping they pounded up
the stairs to Debbie's room, which was the first bedroom they came to. 
They had unconsciously transferred their feeling of safe haven from the
room they could no longer play in, to the next best thing ...  her bedroom,
the only other place she felt like she owned.

   Then it was more long tongue swapping kisses as they fumbled to undress
each other.  Their routine led them to being naked together, on her bed,
her hand firmly grasping his prick as she stroked him.  His fingers
strummed her clitty and she writhed beside him.  She bucked her hips, and
one of his fingers slipped between her plump pussy lips to dip into her. 
On instinct he let his finger go further until she moaned.

   "That hurts." she moaned, but kissed him even more vigorously.

   Robby remembered how that the man had sucked at his mother's nipples,
and he ducked his head to fasten his lips around his sister's pink one. 
She squealed and bucked her hips again.  His finger felt resistance, but he
pushed anyway.

   "AHHHHOOOOWWWW" she cried and went rigid, rolling away a little, pulling
her nipple out of his mouth with a "plop".

   Robby knew he had hurt her, and he immediately pulled the finger out of
her.  He looked at it and it was stained a dark pink.  She was bleeding!

   "Oh baby I'm so sorry." he cried.

   She hushed him, kissing him more now that the pain was gone.  "It's OK"
she said.  "I think you ruptured my hymen.  But I don't care.  Kiss me
Robby ...  rub me.  I'm so close."

   She had never let go of his stiff cock, and she still stroked it.  He
went back to rubbing her bump in little circles, but took care not to hurt
her again.  She made happy noises and went stiff again as she came.  Robby
felt his semen begin it's short journey.  Because he had rolled apart from
her when he hurt her, her hand was pulling on him as she stroked, and his
penis was aimed at where his hand still stimulated her.

   His sperm rocketed out and splashed on his fingers.  That made her even
more slippery and he rubbed his spunk into her clitty, speeding his fingers
back and forth as her cum was extended by a follow on orgasm.  The rest of
his spend painted his hand and her mons, making her pubic hair a mess of
slippery white.  Debbie let go of his rod and rolled away from him,
splaying her legs wide, and his fingers slipped down to rub her pussy lips,
one finger sliding between her swollen petals.  He rubbed more slowly now
...  just stroking her, knowing her clit would be too sensitive to
stimulate directly.  He stared at her, drinking the beauty of her nakedness
as her breasts rose and fell rapidly.

   Her head rolled toward him as he lay on his side, and she looked at him
through her lashes.  Then she convulsively rolled back toward him and she
clutched him to her.

   They traded soft words of love, intermingled with more sweet soft lipped
kisses.

   Finally Debbie rolled to her back, relaxed.  "Is this what they felt
like?" she asked.

   "Maybe." said her brother.

   "I don't understand any of this." she sighed.  "But if they were doing
this ...  feeling like this ...  it just can't be bad."

   "Yeah." said Robby, surprised that he agreed with her a hundred percent.



   "We have to find a way to figure out what's going on." said Debbie more
firmly.

   "Yeah." said Robby again, still in agreement with his sister.

   They got up and cleaned up, and washed the bedspread, which had a large
wet spot on it.  Then they made some sandwiches and had a bottle of RC Cola
each.  It was while they were finishing that, sitting at the table, that
Debbie looked at her brother with calculating eyes.

   "I want to do it again." she said.

   Robby didn't have to be told what she wanted to do.  Just her statement,
and the look on her face, had him ready in seconds.  He stood up, letting
his bulge talk for him.

   This time Debbie got a towel from the bathroom and spread it out where
their hips would be.  She didn't have to explain that either.  Silently
they stripped, watching each other.  Debbie lay down first, adjusting her
position so the towel was where she wanted it.  Then she looked up at her
brother.

   Perhaps his unconscious mind noticed the similarity of her place on the
bed, and her welcome for him to join her, to what they had peeked at in the
old house next door.  Perhaps seeing the sex act he had always heard of,
but had not been able to envision in his mind clearly, affected him. 
Whatever it was he dripped with anticipation for feeling her soft skin
against his, and hearing her special sighs as she experienced orgasm under
his fingers.  He didn't think of doing to her what Smith had done to his
mother.  That just didn't enter his mind.  But he lay with her, his heart
full and groaned as she gripped him and began to stroke him again.

   "I love this." she sighed as his fingers found her slit, already
slippery with her expectation.  He rubbed at the lips again, liking the
feel of their willingness to move around under his direction.  She gripped
him tighter as he added the stimulation of suckling at her turgid nips,
which now protruded from her firm breasts.  They weren't as big around as
her mother's.  They didn't stick out as much as her mother's, but they
pleasured her just like her mother had been pleasured.  She liked this new
thing they did too ...  very much.

   She first felt his penis touch her labia by accident, as they moved
against each other, kissing and moaning.  He had moved his fingers to her
clit now and was playing with it gently, rubbing in the little circles he
knew she loved.  Their lovemaking wasn't as urgent this time, though the
feelings streaking through her loins did cause her to jerk on him more
forcefully.  And it was that which bought the tip of his penis in contact
with her pussy lips, just below where his fingers stroked.

   When it happened she noticed it mostly because it felt so different from
fingers.  That head was smooth and wide, it's plumb shape mooshing between
her lips and spreading them more than a finger would have.  She pulled at
him, getting that contact again, swabbing his glans through her dripping
pussy lips.  She wasn't trying to get it in her.  She too had not yet
arrived at the thought of that possibility.  It just felt good to do ... 
so she did it.

   It felt good to Robby too.  Heat surrounded and kissed the tip of his
drippy cock, and he felt that wonderful soothing stuff ooze out of him. 
She moaned into his lips and suddenly that ooze turned into a rush of hot
fluid as his semen bathed her pussy mouth.  He grunted with the surprise of
it.  He hadn't felt it coming this time for some reason.

   Debbie felt that hot rush directly in her pussy mouth.  It was
completely different than feeling it on the hair that grew down there.  It
was warmer somehow.  It felt fabulous.  She kept sliding the spurting thing
through her vulva as it gave her more and more of that fabulous feeling. 
She could feel his cock begin to soften almost immediately in her hand, and
she squeezed it, not in any attempt to milk it of it's nectar, but just
because it felt good to squeeze as it softened.  Something in her brain
told her it would be OK now, now that he was finished, to roll back and
spread her legs so he could do what he'd done before.  She did, opening
herself to his fingers and he began to rub all through the slippery mess
with the flat of his hand.

   Her hips arched up, wanting more than just that flat hand, and her hand
went to his ...  on top of his.  When she did this to herself she slipped
her finger into her sex.  When she did that it didn't hurt, exactly, though
there had been warning tinges of pain in the past.  His finger had hurt
her, but it was much larger than her own.  She wanted to feel her finger in
her pussy, and she pressed with her middle finger, trying to slip it
between his.

   Instead she pushed his finger into her split.

   Robby felt her push at his finger and let it slide deeper into her.  She
tensed, but didn't cry out this time.  He went deeper, gently and slowly,
sliding the finger around in liquid, slippery heat.

   "Does it hurt?" he asked in her ear.

   "Noooooooodon'tstop" she ran her words together as her hips arched
again. "Feels gooood" she moaned.

   He went deeper and then she sucked air and winced as the thickest part
of his finger scraped her now torn cherry.

   "Ahhhhhhh" she moaned, but her hand held his there.  "Don't stop." she
said clearly.

   "I'm hurting you." he said.

   "Noooooo" she lied.  Her orgasm was so close she felt like she could
reach out and touch it.  It did hurt, but only a little, and the deeper he
went the better it felt.

   "Move it" she demanded.  Her hand left his and went to his head, pulling
him to her breast.  "Suck!"

   Robby took her nipple and sucked at the same time he withdrew his
sperm-slicked finger from her pussy and pushed it back in.  It squelched
noisily, making wet slurping sounds as it slicked through his sperm.  It
squeezed that residual sperm into her and out of her at the same time.  He
pulled on it again, and the base of his hand scraped across her clit.

   She exploded in a wail of ecstasy, her hips coming up off the towel in a
convulsive leap as the orgasm blinded her temporarily.  She didn't care and
closed her eyes tightly, seeing bright spots in the darkness, her mind
paying attention only to the thick thing that was plundering her pussy and
the streaks of mad joy that bounced back and forth from her loins to the
nipple he was suckling.

   Her wild movements required Robby to dig in with his finger, to keep
from losing contact with her and that only intensified her feeling.  She
shrieked, an anguished cry of joy that sounded to Robby like she was dying.
In panic he jerked his finger out of her and her shriek changed to a wail
as the wonderful feeling in her pussy went away.  Her own hand flashed to
her loins and she shoved her middle finger into herself, jerking it madly,
punishing her clit through the rest of her cum.

   She felt every muscle in her body tense up and then it was over.  She
flopped back to the bed, limp, her hand falling at her side and gasped for
air.

   "Deb?  Are you OK?" asked a very concerned Robby.

   "I've ...  never ...  been ...  better." she panted.  "That ...  was ...
fantastic."

   "It sounded like I was killing you." he said, unsure of what to believe.



   "You can ...  kill me like that ...  every day." she rasped, her throat
dry from all her deep and rapid breathing.

   "So it didn't hurt ...  like before?" he asked.

   She nodded.  "A little ...  but not so bad.  Felt good." she said. 
"Except you took your finger out way too soon."

   Eventually, the two teens used up all the nervous energy the things
they'd seen had fired in them.  They got up, cleaned up again, and again
got something to eat.  As they sat at the table, munching on grilled cheese
sandwiches, the subject that was on both of their minds finally found
words.

   "So what are we going to do?" asked Debbie.

   "I don't know.  It's all so strange and weird." commented Robby.

   "I want to yell at her ...  scream at her." said Debbie, but without the
anger that would have made it sound like such actions were imminent.

   "We can't do that." said Robby, pragmatically.

   "She's hiding something." said Debbie.

   "Well gee," chuckled her brother.  "When did you figure that out?"

   She shot him a dark look.

   "Why would she do that with a complete stranger?" wondered the girl.

   "Come on Deb," said Robby.  "Obviously she knows him from somewhere. 
He's NOT a stranger."

   "But why would she hide it?  And why would she let him do that to our
place?" complained Debbie.

   "Deb, she doesn't KNOW it's our place." said Robby with infuriating
sense.

   "OK, then, we'll TELL her it's our place!" said Debbie, getting mad
again.

   "And she's just going to say "Gee, kids, I didn't know that.  I'll get
right over there and tell the bad man to get out." You really think she'll
just say that keeping that little secret from her for years and years is
just fine?" Robby sometimes had a way of making Debbie feel stupid, even
though she was quite sure she was the smarter twin.

   "But ..." Debbie started to yell.

   "LOOK!" he yelled first.  "She's never done anything that wasn't for our
own good." he said insistently.  "You know she loves us.  There has to be
some explanation for all this.  We just have to figure out how to get her
to tell us."

   Debbie sulked.  "I don't think I like you very much." she said sourly.

   "I know." he said, making his voice sound obviously too sad for the
situation.  "I could tell a little while ago when you were telling me to
squirt all over your ...  pussy."

   His use of that word, a word that, if not taboo, was completely naughty,
and not a word either of them felt comfortable using in normal
conversation, was like a slap in the face to Debbie.  Anger flared in her,
but it was because he was poking holes in all her statements.  She stood
up.

   "I'm going over to Angie's house.  I'll be home for supper." She tried
to frown, to let Robby know she was mad.

   He just looked at her.  He was afraid if he said anything else it would
only drive her further away from him.

   Both kids were home when Ramona walked in that night.  She had a lot on
her mind, which was probably why she didn't sense the slight air of tension
in the house.  When she had returned to work, and had sat down at her new
desk, a perk of having been assigned to work with the representative of the
eccentric and mysterious Nettleton who owned the mansion, the first thing
she had thought of was the heavy weight of her brother's sperm in her womb
as she sat.  Her feelings for her brother had been forced into a dark
corner in her mind for a long time, but she wasn't surprised when they
flooded out of that corner to drown her in their passion and intensity. 
She had always loved Robert in a special way that no other man could match.



   She had known, when they were young, that what they did was not
acceptable to normal people.  She had known that there was significant
danger if their love produced any attention ...  especially if that
attention came as the result of her belly swelling with his child.

   After he had gone, though, she wished more than anything in the world
that he had left her pregnant.  She missed him so much that she had dreamed
every night that his seed had taken hold in her, and that she would have
something of him to hold and cherish and love.  When her next period had
come, announcing that her dream was not to come true, she had cried even
more bitterly.

   She had adjusted.  And when Richard had died it had been the memory of
getting through the loss of her brother's presence and all that she missed
so much, that had helped her decide to keep living then.  That was when she
had been able to finally put her brother's memories to rest, hidden in that
corner of her mind.  She had centered on her children, and had used their
raising as a crutch to help her walk through life until she had healed
enough to stand on her own again.

   Now, suddenly, Robert was back.  The affect on her was almost as
traumatic as his leave-taking had been.  As she sat, feeling his essence
lying in her womb, shivers of ecstasy flowed through her veins.  She was so
happy she felt brittle, as if she could break into a thousand pieces if she
weren't careful.

   There were too many things to think about, and her mind flitted from one
to the other too quickly to stop and actually think about each one.  That
he still loved her was obvious, but what did that love mean?  How would it
affect her life?  What would he expect from her?  How would she tell her
children about him?  What did the renovation of her family home mean in her
life?  She realized with true irony that she could almost feel the ghosts
of her parents hovering over her, whispering to her, but she couldn't tell
what they were saying.  Did they approve?  Were their spirits enraged that
she would lie with her own brother.  What if she got pregnant now?  Did she
want to prevent such a pregnancy?  She knew she would go to Robert again
... and again ...  for as long as he would take her naked body into his
arms.  She knew in the center of her being that she could never deny him.
What did THAT mean to her life?

   She did her work mechanically, her practiced financial eye reviewing
documents, flagging ones that looked questionable for reasons she couldn't
identify at that moment, but which she knew would yield their secrets
later, when she was more settled.  Her competence was automatic,
unthinking, as she shuffled papers, her mind a whirl of unresolved issues.

   It had taken a co-worker touching her shoulder, nodding at the lights
going out all over the bank, to bring her back to the real world
completely. She blushed at the woman's questioning look.

   "I guess I was preoccupied with all this." she said, indicating the pile
of invoices and bills on her desk.

   "You'll get used to it." said the woman.

   That social contact had let Ramona think of things other than the
rambling questions in her head, and she had concentrated on traffic to keep
her mind off of things until she had passed the now open iron gates of her
ancestral home.  When she parked and went into the house, the uppermost
thing in her mind was what, if anything, to tell her children.  She had to
begin, somehow, to prepare them for learning that they had an uncle they
knew nothing about.

   Ramona started the car and then, like some demented magic, the next
thing she realized she was putting the car in park in her own driveway. 
She didn't remember a single thing about the drive home.

   Chapter Six

   "I'm home." Ramona sang automatically when she dropped her purse and
keys on the sideboard in the hall.

   "Hey!" came Robby's deep voice from the living room.  She heard nothing
from Debbie and assumed she must be in her room, or someplace it was hard
to hear.

   Ramona sought refuge in the rituals of preparing dinner for her family.
The questions came back to her as she handled pots and pans and dishes.

   "So" came the sudden voice of Debbie behind her.  "How was work today?"

   Ramona looked at her daughter, but didn't notice the tense set of
Debbie's shoulders.

   "Fine" she said automatically.

   "Nothing ...  interesting happened then?" pressed Debbie.

   Ramona, thinking that finally she had something to talk about, said
"Well, they gave me a new job.  They put me in charge of taking care of all
the financial documents associated with the renovation next door."

   The silence this was met with penetrated Ramona's awareness.  She'd
forgotten how upset Debbie was about that renovation.  She turned to see
Debbie on the balls of her feet, leaning forward slightly.

   "I know you don't like what's going on over there." said Ramona.  "But
what's happening is happening.  Rob...  Mr.  Nettleton has a lot of money
in the bank, and they want to keep him happy as a customer."

   Debbie had pushed intentionally, trying to get her mother to be
forthcoming with information.  It hadn't worked, but that misspoken name
was something she could press.

   "What does Robby have to do with that?" she asked.

   "What?" asked Ramona, confused.

   "You said Robby ...  before you said Mister Nettleton.  What does Robby
have to do with that?"

   Ramona was flustered.  Debbie was acting almost hostile toward her. 
Surely she didn't blame her mother for being assigned to the Nettleton
accounts.

   "Robby doesn't have anything to do with it." she said guardedly.  I
don't think you heard me correctly."

   "I think you need to tell me what's going on." said Debbie, her voice
full of accusation and an authoritative tone.

   Ramona, unused to her daughter taking that tone with her, and at the end
of her emotional rope to begin with, snapped.

   "No, Debbie, I think YOU need to tell ME what's going on!  Why are you
so intent that nothing should happen to that house?  Why is it any of your
BUSINESS what happens in that house?  I want some answers young lady and I
WANT THEM NOW!"

   Ramona's face was red and puffy as she shouted.  Debbie's face got that
way almost instantly too.  Both women started screaming at each other,
their hands gastrulating wildly.  Debbie screamed demands to know why
Ramona had "done that" with that horrible man and why their mother was
lying to them.  Ramona screamed that she had happiness within her grasp and
that it was obvious that Debbie didn't want her to have that.  It was
fortunate for both that they were yelling so loudly that neither could
understand the other.

   Robby appeared as if by magic between them, a hand held out palm first
to each snarling woman.

   "HEY ...  HEY!!" he shouted, his voice drowning out both of them.

   The women subsided, both panting, their faces remarkably similar in
appearance, and not pleasant to look at, for all that each woman was
normally beautiful.

   "IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT DOOR!" he shouted, to keep them
from starting up again, but then dropped his voice.  "Whatever it is,
shouting at each other won't help anything."

   He looked first at his sister and then turned his head to look at his
mother, his hands still up.

   "And whatever it is shouldn't come between us as a family." he said
firmly.  "Mom ...  what's for dinner?" he asked inanely.  It was a bald
faced attempt to change the subject.

   Ramona realized with a flush of embarrassment that she had no idea what
she'd been preparing.  She looked at the counter in confusion.  "I don't
know." she said weakly.  When she saw the chicken on the counter she said
"Fried chicken." Her eyes went to the stove, at the pan of water boiling
there, and the potatoes in it.  "And mashed potatoes." she added.

   "OK then." said Robby, as if something momentous had been resolved. 
"I'm starving."

   Debbie took a shuddering breath.  She, like her mother, had a lot on her
mind too.  She knew what she had screamed, but her mother didn't appear to
have actually heard her.  She felt her mind twist slightly in her head as
she recognized that the fact that her mother was acting so oddly had to
mean that something powerful was going on.  She felt a rush of shame for
screaming.  Robby was right about that.  As much as she loved that old
house, it wasn't worth driving her mother away from her.  Whatever was
going on must be awfully important to her mother for her to act this way.
And, though she didn't understand it, she suddenly knew that somehow, it
would all make sense eventually.  She still itched to get answers to her
questions, but she also knew that she'd have to be patient to get them.

   She hoped she could make herself find that patience.

   "I'm sorry." she said suddenly.  She looked at her mother with an
unspoken pleading in her eyes.

   "Me too." said Ramona.  "I have a lot on my mind.  I shouldn't have
yelled at you.  None of this is your fault."

   Robby gave a silent sigh of relief as the two women rushed together and
hugged.  He watched in confusion as both of them started crying and
apologizing even more.  He decided that women were even stranger than he
had suspected.

   "I'm starving over here." he complained, rubbing his stomach.

   "Then get a can of green beans and put them on the stove." said his
mother tearfully.  "Do you expect me to do EVERYTHING for you?"

   Robby signed again, this time audibly, and went to the pantry.

   There was still tension during supper, but it was manageable.  All three
family members tried to make idle conversation, but it all fell flat. 
Finally Ramona put down her fork, wiped the corners of her mouth with her
napkin and settled her gaze on her daughter.

   "I'm just going to say something.  I don't want to talk about it right
now.  You seem to have some emotional involvement with that house that I
don't understand.  So let me just say this and I want you to think about it
before you say anything back ...  both of you." she said, turning her eyes
to her son.  "OK?"

   Both teens nodded.  There was a sinking sensation in Debbie's stomach.

   "OK," said their mother.  "That property is owned by Robert Nettleton.
It has been for years.  He was overseas for a long time, but now he wants
to come back and live there.  It's his house.  He's very rich and he has
his money in the bank ...  where I work.  They want me to take care of his
financial needs ...  pay his bills and things like that.  I can't turn that
down.  It's not exactly a promotion, but it pays better than just being a
teller.  If I do a good job it may lead to more assignments like this.  So,
even though I know you two don't want anything to happen next door, I have
to do this.  That's what I want you to understand.  I'm not doing this to
hurt you or anything like that.  Do you understand?"

   "Can I ask one question?" probed Debbie, unable to find the patience she
had reminded herself to look for.

   "Yes, as long as you understand I may not be able to answer it." said
her mother.

   "Why couldn't you answer it?" asked Debbie.

   Ramona struggled in her mind, choosing her words carefully.  "There are
some ...  complications ...  things I can't talk about right now."

   'I just bet there are!' thought Debbie to herself.  She decided to push
just a little.

   "When you fixed dinner last night it was obvious that mister Smith is
... important.  Why is he so important?"

   Ramona had been semi-prepared for several questions.  Questions about
"Mister Smith" weren't in that number.  She was too long in answering, and
didn't have time to think about her answer carefully.

   "He's Robert Nettleton's representative." she said.  "He's important to
the bank."

   Debbie's stomach flip-flopped.  Her mother had told her an outright lie.
Or at least part of it was an outright lie.  He might be the owner's
representative, but that wasn't why he was so important.  That much had
been made perfectly clear through the peep hole that very day.

   "Right." said Debbie tightly.  It was obvious she didn't like that
answer.

   "Debbie..." warned her brother.

   "I'm not going to shout." she said to him.

   Ramona knew something was wrong ...  that her answer had been in error
some way.  But the kids couldn't possibly know who "Mister Smith" really
was.  It was impossible.  Her confusion prevented her from pursuing the
subject with her daughter, who suddenly looked hostile again.

   "I have to deal with him at the bank." said Ramona, trying to salvage
something without knowing how.  "I just wanted him to feel welcome."

   "Oh I'm sure he feels VERY welcome." said Debbie tightly.  Her brother's
hand suddenly gripped her knee under the table ...  painfully.  She tried
to push it away, but he was too strong.  He did let off the pressure, but
kept his hand there in unspoken warning.

   Debbie, unable to control herself, pushed more.  "Maybe you should take
him a plate tonight.  I'm sure he'd feel more WELCOME."

   Unknown to Debbie, that suggestion drove straight into Ramona's brain.
She COULD take him a plate of food.  It would be a perfect way to see him
again, privately.  Her daughter's tone of voice was nudged out of her
consciousness.

   "That's a good idea." she said.  Both children saw a sparkle come into
her eye and were mildly astonished.  "That's a very good idea." said their
mother, smiling for the first time that night.  "It would be very
neighborly!"

   To her children's further astonishment she stood up, forgetting her own
food and bustling about making up a plate.

   "I'll just take this over now, and see how he's doing." Ramona's eyes
had a far away look in them now, as if she weren't paying attention to what
she was doing.

   Their mother's behavior was so bizarre that it struck her children in a
way that impressed on them just HOW important this man was.  That she would
abandoned her dinner and her children ...  just like that ...  was
something that spoke volumes to them.  It penetrated their own brains in a
way that nothing else had, even watching their mother have sex.  As the
door closed behind her, they looked at each other.

   "Can you believe that?" asked Robby.

   "Who IS this guy?" asked Debbie, wonder in her voice.

   There was unspoken agreement between the teens to spy again.  They
didn't finish their dinner either, standing up and heading for the back
door as if they had planned this all along.  They stayed silent as they
ghosted from tree to tree toward the house.  Robby exclaimed at how
different the outside looked.  Repairs and paint just on the parts of the
back side of the house made it look completely different.  His sister
pulled at his sleeve to get him to move on.  They made just a cursory
examination of the back of the house.  Their mother would have drawn
attention to the front part.  They strode almost calmly to the entrance of
the root cellar and slipped down into the dark.

   Again they had left without thinking about light, but they fumbled in
the dark only a little, finding the hidden catch for the shelf-door and
stepping into the tunnel.  They counted steps, stopping a foot from the
door to the stairwell and pulled on the ring to open it slowly.  The hinges
still squealed a little and they left the door open to avoid making the
hinges squeal again.

   Tiptoeing straight to the peep hole for the master bedroom, Debbie got
there first and pressed her face to the holes.

   The room was empty.

   She turned and whispered "They're not in there."

   They scurried from spy hole to spy hole, trying to locate the adults. 
It was Robby who saw part of a man's body disappearing from view toward the
grand staircase.  Moving back to the master bedroom they waited, but no one
appeared.  They could both hear voices from lower in the house.

   Debbie cupper her hands to her brother's ear.  "You wait here.  I'll go
back and see if I can find them." He nodded, peering into the room.

   Debbie found them in the formal dining room.  Smith didn't have on his
disguise, and was sitting at the head of a table that would have seated
twenty-four comfortably.  Her mother sat next to him.  He was eating
calmly. She thought to go get her brother, but they were talking and she
wanted to hear.  Losing vision, she pressed her ear to a hole.

   "...  acting so strangely about this whole thing." she heard her mother
say.

   "It will only be another week or two before we can tell them." said the
man around a mouthful of chicken.  "This is delicious Rami."

   "Thank you." said Ramona automatically.  "I don't know if I can put them
off for another week." she said.

   "If you think they can keep quiet about it then tell them now." said the
man.

   "Bobby, they're just kids.  They're smart kids.  They started second
grade when they were six because they already knew everything that first
grade had to teach them.  But they're still kids.  This is going to turn
their world upside down."

   Debbie agreed with that evaluation of things already.  She took time to
peek, but nothing had changed.  She put her ear back to the wall.

   "...expect them to take it in stride.  Why didn't you tell them a long
time ago?" She only heard part of the statement and question, but Debbie
knew it had to do with telling her and Robby what was going on.

   "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." said Ramona.  "You were gone
so long, and in so many dangerous places.  I dreaded any kind of special
mail, for fear it world be notification that you were dead."

   "That doesn't explain why you didn't tell them about me.  You could have
told them about me even if I HAD died, Rami."

   "Yes, but then I'd have had to tell them who they are.  They're good
kids Bobby.  They're smart and talented and I don't want this to change
that.  You know what it can mean to be who we are."

   It was silent and Debbie darted a look.  Smith had stopped eating and
was putting his fork down.  She pressed her ear to the hole.

   "Ramona, it didn't ruin you.  It didn't ruin me either.  There's nothing
wrong with who we are.  Why do you think it would hurt them to know who
THEY are?"

   Her mother was silent for a moment.  "There's so much pain, Bobby."

   Debbie stole a peek again, and could hear Smith faintly speak.

   "Not for them." he countered.  "That's our pain, my darling.  They can
never feel that pain like we have." He reached for her hand.  "Was there
pain this morning?"

   Debbie watched her mother's smile bloom.  She wanted to hear better, but
the sight of her mother's joyous face kept her eyes glued on the couple.

   "No, it was wonderful.  You KNOW how wonderful it was." Debbie watched
her mother lift Smith's hand and kiss his fingertips.

   "Did you really come just to bring me this fine meal?" asked the man,
moving his fingers to caress Ramona's face.

   Debbie saw her mother's face take on a look she had never seen there.  A
look of sensuality ...  of desire ...  like only the very best movie stars
could re-create on film.

   "No." she said.

   "Ah, then, my fine meal is finished.  Perhaps you brought me dessert? 
My tongue still wishes for some sweet syrup to finish the meal properly."

   "My children will wonder why it takes me so long." said Ramona
wistfully.

   "Will they come to this haunted place to find you?"

   She shook her head firmly.  "They'd never come here.  No one comes here.
I know what you think, but it's not my children who have been coming here."
Then she tilted her head, like she was studying the man.  "But I came here.
I'm here now."

   Debbie watched as her mother stood and Smith pushed his plate out of the
way.  They embraced, their hands sliding all over each other's bodies.  The
girl felt a thrill of unwelcome heat in her loins.  She couldn't get used
to seeing her mother as a sexual being.  And she was so unashamed about it!

   "I want to taste you." said the man.

   "Here?" laughed Ramona.

   "What better place for dessert?" he said, lifting her by the waist and
sitting her on the end of the table.

   "You're horrible.  My daughter was right!  You're a horrible man!"
laughed Ramona.  But she scooted back on the table and leaned backwards,
supporting her upper torso with her arms behind her.

   Ramona was still dressed for work, in a sensible summer dress that
buttoned up the front.  It was white, and covered with a riot of colorful
flowers that spilled across it in a swath that left one shoulder and parts
of the skirt plain white.  Debbie's mouth dropped open as her mother drew
her knees up to her chest and then let them fall apart, spreading the
skirt. Smith's hands lifted the hem and Debbie could see her mother had
worn knee high stockings.

   Just then Robby came up behind his sister and whispered, startling her.

   "I thought you were coming back to get me." he hissed.

   Debbie jumped and her forehead thumped the wall.

   "Shhhh" she went and peered back through the peep holes.  She was just
in time to see Smith's head turning back to her mother.  He kept lifting
her mother's skirt, clear up to her waist, exposing her panties.

   The dining room had multiple peep holes, as opposed to just one set,
like most other rooms had, and Robby was able to use a set that were
slightly higher than the ones that were comfortable for Debbie to use.  He
looked and stifled a gasp as he saw Smith's hands slide down the outsides
of his mother's thighs to grip her panties.  He held his breath as his
mother lifted her buttocks up off the table - what was she doing on the
table?  - and held it longer as Smith slid the panties up his mother's
thighs until she had to bring her knees back together to let him slide them
past them.  Her knees fell back open, though, as he pulled the garment off
her feet, working it over her shoes, which were still on.  Smith stared at
the woman's pussy, glistening in the light.

   The fact there was light intruded upon Robby's consciousness and he
realized that electricity had been installed.  At least in this room.  He
couldn't see the light source, but it was good enough that he could see a
sparkle, as of drops of ice or something, on the light fur that was between
his mother's legs.

   "What are they doing?" he whispered to his sister.  Her hand waved at
him and again all she said was "Shhhh." Her eyes were glued to her set of
peep holes.

   Both teens watched in stark disbelief as the man bent and began kissing
the insides of their mother's legs, starting at the knees, and changing
legs from time to time.  His head got in the way, but it was obvious when
he could go no further.  Their mother's head dropped back, as if she were
staring at the ceiling and a low moan came ripping out of her throat.

   Both kids had heard of oral sex, of course, and knew other teens who
claimed to have engaged in it.  But that was a scenario that neither Robby
nor Debbie had actually been able to quite believe was, in fact, real.  It
was like a legend that was fun to believe in, but not quite really
believable.  That their straight-laced mother not only allowed it, but
obviously was enraptured by this, caused in them feelings that, before
this, they would have explored in this very house, up in the girl's
bedroom.

   "Mmmmmmm Bobby, I'd forgotten how wonderful that is." moaned Ramona. 
Her voice was clearly audible through the plastered walls.

   Smith pulled away from their mother's sex, leaning back.  "Your husband
did not do this for you?"

   One of Ramona's hands lifted from behind her and reached for the man's
head.  She had to lean forward, but she grabbed his brown hair and pulled
him back toward her.

   "Don't talk." she commanded.

   He leaned forward and the teens saw her lift her buttocks up off the
table to push her pussy into his face as he regained contact.  As he
slurped - the only word they could envision for the sounds coming through
the wall - his hands went to their mother's breasts, fumbling with her
buttons, undoing her dress.  He pushed her bra up off her breasts and began
squeezing and pulling at her distended, dark nipples.

   "AHHHHHHH" she groaned, part pain, mostly ecstasy.  "I wish you had two
mouths you beast." She pushed at his face again.  "Just a little longer. 
Uhhhhnnnnggggggeeeeeeeeeee" she squealed, obviously having an orgasm as the
man's face moved in between her thighs and his fingers punished her
nipples.

   When her cries died away Smith stood and his hands went to his belt.

   "I have something that will take the place of one mouth." he announced.

   If the twins had been astonished before, they were speechless as they
saw their mother scoot across the table toward the man.

   "My turn for dessert." she panted.

   Smith pushed his pants down as their mother slid off the table, her
skirt falling back to its normal place.  She knelt in front of the man and
the teens both gasped as she clearly took his erect phallus into her mouth.
Her cheeks caved in as she sucked greedily.

   Now it was Smith who looked at the ceiling, his hands on his hips.

   "Ahhhhh sweet Rami" he groaned.

   Ramona obviously loved what she was sucking.  She too made wet slurping
noises as her lips moved all along the thick stalk that protruded from dark
curly hair above a large full looking sack.

   Debbie's loins were hot now.  Seeing this completely impossible behavior
on the part of her mother caused her brain to disconnect with the fact that
it WAS her mother.  As if she were watching two strangers, she felt her own
pussy get wet enough to make those same noises she was hearing.  Her hand
went to her shorts and she unbuttoned them, slipping her hand into them to
find her pussy was sopping.  She stuck a finger in herself and curled it,
pulling up to put pressure on her clitty.  She couldn't stifle a little
moan.

   Robby was having his own difficulties dealing with what he was seeing.
He had less problem with his mother's behavior, perhaps because most men
want every woman to look and act like she loves sex.  He was hard as rock,
though, and wasn't sure he should be.  His sister's moan caused him to
glance at her and notice where her hand was.  Feeling unaccountably better,
he unzipped himself and hauled out his stiff prick.  His hand stroked it as
he peered through the spy holes again.

   "Rami, my sweet, I'm about to explode." groaned Smith.

   Ramona's actions left no doubt that if he did so in her mouth she would
not complain.

   "Not in your mouth my darling, please." he pleaded.

   Ramona left off sucking him instantly and jumped backwards to land on
the end of the table again, leaning back as she had before.  She lifted her
legs, spreading them and Smith, obviously delighted, supported her legs
with his hands while he waded between her thighs.  He had to let go of one
leg and reach between them, but they he surged toward her as she cried out
in ecstasy.

   "This is where I love to plant my seed." he said gruffly.

   "Yes!" exhorted the mother of the stunned teens.

   "I always wished I could have made a little baby inside you my sweet."
panted the man as he began thrusting hard into their mother.

   "I wanted your child" she cried out.

   "Do you still?" he rasped.

   "YES!" screamed Ramona.

   With that scream of assent, Robby's semen splattered the wall.  Debbie
heard his grunts of release and she had to squat as her pussy finally gave
her the relief of sweet orgasm.

   Inside the dining room, Robert Nettleton leaned into his sister and
delivered his seed into her fertile garden, gasping with the force of his
release, hoping that he really was creating life in her womb.  Some dim
part of his mind knew that was an insane thing to wish for, but he didn't
care.

   Neither did Ramona.

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

   Robby and Debbie, however, cared very much whether this strange
mysterious man from their mother's past got her with child.  While what
they had seen was erotic in the extreme, and stimulated their own sexual
desires, the thought of their mother having a baby by this man was
something that did not appeal to them.  On this, they agreed, discussing it
in the root cellar and in the woods and even in the back yard as they tried
to get home before their mother did.

   What they could not agree on was what they were going to be able to do
about it.  They returned to their separate rooms to fret and think.

   Debbie's primary thoughts were about how her mother had lied to her. 
She was not aware of any time in her short life when her mother had
intentionally lied to her about something.  She was old enough to realize
that, whatever her mother was hiding, it was important to Ramona.  At the
same time, Debbie knew that when SHE lied - and she had lied her fair share
of times, to a number of people - that it was to cover up something she was
ashamed of, or would get in trouble for.  Debbie was, therefore, very upset
about the lie.  In a strange way she was more upset about the lie than she
was about her mother acting like a slut with a complete stranger.  But that
seemed wrong too.  It was obvious he wasn't a complete stranger ...  not to
her mother.

   Debbie heard the door slam downstairs.  Her mother was back ...  back
from her wild sex party with the man next door.  Curiosity drove Debbie out
of her room.  She found her mother in the kitchen, washing up the plate she
had taken next door.  She was ...  humming.

   Chapter Seven

   Debbie's natural curiosity was made more firm by her unwillingness to
accept that her mother had lied to her.  Other than the fact that she and
Robby had played at the Nettleton Manor for years, and that they were
sexually involved with each other, were bit secrets.  But those were the
only secrets Debbie had from her mother.  She couldn't understand how her
mother could be this other woman, and that Debbie had never been able to
see even a glimpse of tht woman.

   "Mom?" began Debbie tentatively.'

   "Hmmmm?" responded Ramona, her mind still on what had just happened.

   "Tell me about your boyfriends." said Debbie.

   Ramona turned and looked at her daughter.  "Whatever do you mean?  I
don't have any boyfriends."

   Debbie pushed the fresh sprout of her anger down and tried to be
patient. "I mean when you were my age." she clarified.

   Ramona knew her daughter well enough to see that she was uncomfortable
...  distant somehow.  They had always been loving and close.  Was Debbie
interested in a boy?  That might explain her behavior recently ...  her
fits of anger.  And, even though Debbie's recent outbursts had seemed to be
tied to the Nettleton mansion, Ramona knew that ...  hormones ...  could
intrude into life in the most unlikely ways.

   "Are you interested in a boy?" she asked her daughter.

   Debbie's first instinct was to deny that with a laugh.  There were boys
who interested her, but not as boyfriend material.  She wasn't driven by
hormones to seek males.  She was quite satisfied with what she and her
brother did in that way.  But still, boys were ...  interesting.  And if
saying she was interested in a boy would get her mother talking, then fine.

   "Sort of." she said vaguely.  "I've never had a real boyfriend."

   Ramona sighed.  Life at this stage of growing up was so hard.  She hated
the thought of her daughter going through what she had gone through as a
girl.  But she knew it had to happen.  She hoped it didn't have to happen
in quite the same way it had to her.  It never occurred to her that her son
and daughter might have the same kind of relationship she had had with HER
brother.  THAT relationship had been born of the kind of pain and
loneliness that her children had never had to face.

   "Well, sweetheart, I'm not sure I'll be much help to you.  I didn't have
many boyfriends until I met your father." she said.

   "Tell me about them." urged Debbie.

   Ramona sat down at the table, where her unfinished plate of food still
sat.  She took a sip of her tea, but left the food alone.

   "Golly," she said, her eyes going unfocused.  "There isn't all that much
to tell.  There was a boy named George, when I was twelve.  He was nice to
me and I kind of thought of him as a boyfriend.  We couldn't date or
anything like that, of course."

   "How about when you were older ...  my age?" asked Debbie.

   Ramona didn't know how to answer that question.  Her "boyfriend" then
had been Robert.  Her guardian hadn't allowed her to date, and boys didn't
come to visit at the house where the waifs lived.  There had been boys who
showed interest in her, but the whispers of girls her age told her that all
they wanted was what she and Robert did in the dark of night, and she
wasn't interested in doing that with anyone except Robert.  What she had
with her brother was precious and special.

   But she couldn't tell her daughter about THAT!

   "I guess I didn't really have a boyfriend until I went to college and
met your father." she said.

   The anger swelled again in the pit of Debbie's gut.  Another lie.

   "No other boy kissed you until you met Daddy?" she asked, her voice
tight.

   There was a slippery slope here for Ramona.  Another boy HAD kissed her,
and done a lot more than that before she met Richard.  But that boy was
Robert, and she couldn't tell her daughter about THAT.  She avoided the
question by asking one of her own.

   "Has a boy tried to kiss you?"

   "You didn't answer my question Mom." continued Debbie.  "Why won't you
answer my question?"

   Ramona's reaction to her daughter's interrogation was one of fear.  Had
someone in the community been telling her children stories of Ramona's
past? There were still a few people around who had lived in Nettleton and
might have known Ramona when she was a ward.  She hadn't worried about them
because she had tried to be so invisible before she went to college.  And,
when she came back to Nettleton with a husband and a baby in her womb, she
had thought people would forget her past.  Only the oldest people in town
might remember that she was the sad little Nettleton girl who changed her
name.  Was it possible that the renovation of the mansion had brought out
old dusty memories ...  and idle chatter about the past?

   "Who have you been talking to?" she asked.

   Now it was Debbie who had to be careful.  Any information she divulged
about what she now knew about her mother had to appear to have come from
some source that couldn't be questioned.

   "Nobody" she said tersely.  "It's just that everybody has a boyfriend.
Everybody has a first kiss.  It's just how things happen.  I just wanted to
know what that was like for you."

   Ramona thought about what kind of emotions Debbie might be feeling at
her age.  She didn't have a good frame of reference to think about that,
because her own childhood had been anything but normal.  Still, she knew
how it felt to be in love ...  to want a man's touch ...  to want to do
things with a man, even if that man had been her brother when she was
Debbie's age.

   "Sit down, Darling." she said, pointing to a chair.

   Debbie hesitated, but then sat.

   "Sweetheart, a girl at your age has feelings that are very strong
sometimes.  It's normal for her to be curious about boys and what it would
be like to ...  kiss them.  That seems like a long time ago, when I felt
those things.  The mother in me wants to tell you not to kiss the boys. 
But I know that's not realistic.  I guess what I really want you to
understand is that it's tempting to do things with boys just because of
feelings you have, but it's important not to go too far unless you have
real love.  Does that make sense?"

   Debbie's reaction to that was mixed.  What her mother was saying sounded
like what any mother would say.  But, knowing what her mother had just
done, only an hour before, it had to mean that her mother ...  loved ... 
mister Smith, and that didn't make any sense at all.  A new thought bloomed
in Debbie's mind.  She didn't remember her father, because she had just
been a toddler when he was killed.  And, while she didn't remember any men
in her home life, there had been a period of a few years when, if there
WERE a man in the house, she might not have remembered it.  Could mister
Smith be a man her mother fell in love with AFTER her father was killed?

   In typical teenage fashion, instead of answering her mother's question,
she blurted out her own.

   "Mom, did you have a boyfriend after Daddy died?"

   Ramona stared at her daughter.  This was a conversation that seemed ...
odd somehow.  Her parental radar began to have blips on the screen that
were disturbing.

   "No, Darling." she said.  She strained to find the right words.  "Things
were very difficult for me when your father died.  I wasn't ...  well.  It
took a long time to get as back to being normal as I could.  I didn't feel
that ...  seeking male companionship ...  was something that would make my
life ...  our lives ...  better."

   Ramona saw something like disappointment cross her daughter's face. 
This was very odd.  On impulse she spoke.

   "Debbie, why are you asking me all these questions.  Do you have a
boyfriend?  Has he tried to do something that makes you uncomfortable? 
What's going on?"

   Their roles had been somewhat reversed.  Initially, Debbie had thought
she might pry some information out of her mother that would answer some
questions about the man next door.  If he was an old boyfriend, what she
and her brother had seen would make a lot more sense.  Now, however, she
heard that tone in her mother's voice that meant SHE was the one being
interrogated, and that her mother wanted to pry information out of HER.

   Still, other than the fact that her mother did not seem to want to
confess to what had gone on in the past with mister Smith ...  what was
STILL going on with him ...  her mother's responses had been what Debbie
would have expected ...  caring responses that any loving mother might have
given.  The questions Debbie wanted answers to concerned mister Smith. 
Something in Debbie had begun to recognize that her and her brother's
childhood play-place was gone now, never to return.  Now this unbelievable
relationship her mother had with Smith had pushed itself into her uppermost
mind.  She itched to make sense of it, and she took the risk of further
questions.

   "It's just that you seem so interested in mister Smith." she hazarded.
"I mean what with him being a stranger and all, and I know about the bank
and all that stuff, but it just seems like ...  I don't know ...  like you
look at him sort of like I look at boys at school."

   Debbie held her breath, waiting to see what her mother would say ...  or
do.

   It was a pivotal point in the relationship between mother and daughter.
At this point, Debbie knew her mother had lied to her at least twice, and
that was something she couldn't understand.  She also knew that her mother
must love this stranger from somewhere in her past that she wasn't willing
to talk about, and she couldn't understand that either.  Had her mother
laughed, or pshawed the idea that Smith might mean something to her, it
might have created a rift between mother and daughter that could have
lasted a lifetime.

   But Ramona didn't laugh.  She was seized by feelings of fear of her
daughter finding out secrets that were better off left buried.  At the same
time she had to acknowledge that her daughter's instincts about this were
astonishingly accurate, considering her age.  Had she known that her
children had spied on her, everything would have been different.  She
harbored some kind of insane hope in her heart that she and Robert might be
able, somehow, to recapture the happiness of their youth together, now that
he was back.  She felt no guilt about what they had done since his return,
but she was fully aware of the pitfalls involved in that forbidden
relationship.  If she could just tell her children who he was, they would
simply assume that the ...  feelings ...  they saw, and which Debbie had
just voiced seeing, were only the natural love of sister for brother.

   But could she trust them to be discreet?  Robert still had things to do
before he took off his disguise in public, or at least until he appeared
publicly as Robert Ellsworth Nettleton.  Ramona was wracked with doubt. 
But she saw real questions in her daughter's eyes, and that was important
too.

   Now it was Ramona who took a risk.

   "Sweetheart, there are things about mister Smith you don't know."

   Ramona saw light bloom in her daughter's eyes, an obvious interest that
shouted that this was something Debbie wanted very badly to know about. 
Debbie unconsciously leaned forward, toward her mother.

   "But ...  I can't tell you everything just yet."

   The light dimmed in Debbie's eyes, and Ramona saw that too.  She went on
hurriedly.

   "It's not because I don't WANT to tell you.  It's complicated.  There
are legal issues over at the mansion and, until those are resolved, it's
very important that no one learn some things about him that could cause him
problems."

   Debbie clutched at the little part of the secret that her mother had
shared.

   "OK, I understand that, but why would you be interested in him?  As a
man, I mean?" Debbie pushed her luck even further.  "It's like you knew him
in the past or something."

   Ramona became wary.  "Is this what all those questions about boyfriends
were all about?" she asked shrewdly.

   Debbie's eyes widened.  Her mother was pretty sharp.  "Well ...  yeah
... I guess so ...  sort of."

   Ramona didn't know what to say.  She knew if she just put her daughter
off that it wouldn't work.  That much was obvious from her previous
behavior.

   "Let me say this.  I already told you I knew him in the past.  And, when
I knew him then I liked him.  He didn't have that beard then.  But he's not
my boyfriend." Ramona looked at her daughter to gauge the response.

   Debbie was now confused.  Her mother obviously liked mister Smith a LOT
more than she was admitting to.  But what confused Debbie was her mother's
unwillingness to admit that.  She got an idea.

   "Is he married or something?" she asked.

   Ramona shook her head.  "No, he's not married.  But people would be ...
upset if they thought we were as close as a boyfriend and girlfriend."

   "Why?" asked Debbie.

   "That's something I can't talk about." said Ramona, unable to come up
with anything else.  "You'll understand in a few weeks.  I promise you
that. You'll understand everything in a few weeks.  OK?"

   Debbie's curiosity had been both soothed, to a tiny degree, and
inflamed, to a large degree.  She couldn't imagine why her mother had to
wait to tell her just who this man really was.  But she knew she'd gotten
as much out of her mother as was likely, so she nodded.  Then she felt
compelled, for some reason, to hug her mother.  She got up and bent over to
embrace her.

   "I love you Mommy." she said into her mother's hair.

   Ramona felt a stab of emotion.  "I love you too baby.  I really do.  And
someday you'll understand all of this and it will be OK.  I promise
everything will be OK." she murmured.

   That did, in fact, reassure Debbie, but she went to talk to Robby about
things anyway.  She didn't have much to give him, but it was more than
she'd had an hour ago.

   Robby listened carefully to what his sister told him.

   "She admitted she liked him, a long time ago?" he asked.

   "Well, she didn't SAY it was a long time ago.  She just said she liked
him, but he wasn't her boyfriend.  But it HAD to be a long time ago,
because otherwise we'd know him too ...  wouldn't we?"

   "Yeah, that makes sense." said her brother.  "And she said he couldn't
be her ...  boyfriend?" That word just seemed too strange to use in the
same sentence as his mother.

   "She said he CAN'T be her boyfriend, because people wouldn't like it."
said Debbie.  "Why wouldn't people let her choose whoever she wanted for
her boyfriend?" she mused.

   "It has to be something to do with the manor." decided Robby.  "But how
can we find out what it is?"

   Debbie thought and then straightened up.

   "The LIBRARY!" she said excitedly.  "Doesn't the library have old
records and newspapers and stuff like that?"

   And so it was decided.  The kids would journey to the town library the
next day, while their mother worked ...  or visited Smith again.

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

   Ramona worried about the conversation with her daughter.  Had she said
too much?  Should she have said more?  But the next morning, when her
children acted completely normal towards her, laughing and talking about
going swimming, she felt better.

   She might have felt differently if she'd known what they were really
going to do.

   They waited until she was gone and then started to get ready to go. 
Debbie, thinking about her mother, and what she'd seen, suddenly felt that
itch between her legs that meant it was time to visit the manor.  Except
they couldn't do that any more.  She remembered the day before, as they lay
clutched on the very bed she was sitting on, and her nipples tingled.  She
got up to go see her brother.

   Robby was standing in his underwear, trying to decide on whether to wear
shorts or jeans when his sister walked into the room, her blouse
unbuttoned. She pulled it open to display her naked, bobbing breasts.

   "Little Debbie has a treat for you." she announced, taking the blouse
off.

   Uncharacteristically, Robby, the male in the relationship, the one
reputed to have no self control, chastised her.

   "Debbie, we have things to do!"

   "We can afford ten minutes." she said, cupping her breasts and squeezing
her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.  "Come on, don't you want
just a little taste?"

   She knew how to get his juices flowing and watched with glee as the
front of his briefs began to fill up and bulge.

   "Of course you do." she teased, bending over to slide her shorts down
and step out of them.  She slid one hand from her breast into her panties
and pressed her clit.

   "Hey!" he said.  "Isn't that my job?"

   "I thought you wanted to go dig through musty old books." she kept
teasing.  "Besides, I did just fine all by myself for years before you got
involved."

   Robby knew how to tease too.  He picked up his shorts and put a leg
through them.

   "OK, I'll be at the library whenever you get finished." He pulled the
shorts up and buttoned the waist.

   "Robbeeeeeeee" she whined.  "Don't be mean to meeeeee." she said as she
dug her finger up into her pussy.

   "You started it." he grinned.

   But he unbuttoned and dropped his pants.  Her pursuit of him gave him a
feeling of power and he pulled his briefs off to stand, hands on hips, his
prick strong and straight, pointing at her.  He went to his bed and lay
down on it, looking at her.

   Debbie made a show of sliding her panties down her thighs.  She stood
when they were at her knees, spreading her feet as widely as her strained
panties allowed, and ruffled her blond fur, slicking her middle finger
between her lips.

   "I'm wet." she said, her voice husky.

   "I know how to make you even wetter." said her brother, reaching for his
cock and stroking it.

   Debbie removed her panties, kicking them with one foot, making them sail
toward her brother.  They hit the side of the bed and dropped to the floor.
She walked languidly over to the bed and leaned over to watch as her
brother stroked himself.  She loved watching that thin skin uncover and
then cover back up the head of his prick.

   "Let me." she said, reaching for it.

   Robby let his hand drop and sighed as he felt her warm hand grasp him.
She played with him, playing with his foreskin.  A bubble of white oozed
out of the slit in the tip and Debbie suddenly thought of her mother, on
her knees in front of Smith, sucking.  She had been ready to let Smith
squirt in her mouth, but he had wanted to put - what was it he called it?
his seed ...  yes his seed in her mother's pussy, where it could make a
baby.  She stared at her brother's ...  seed.

   Acting on impulse, she leaned lower and flicked her tongue out to swipe
that bubble with the tip of her tongue.

   She tasted.  It didn't taste like much of anything.  A tiny bit bitter,
but sweet somehow too.  Her impulse suggested copying what her mother had
done.  Having seen her mother, who was obviously enjoying what she had been
doing, it didn't seem to strange any more.

   Robby felt heat surround the head of his cock.  It was like nothing he
had ever felt before, except maybe when he rubbed between his sister's
pussy lips with the tip.  But this was ALL around the knob.  He lifted his
head and stared at his sister, sucking his cock.

   "Oh fuck, oh fuck ...  oh ...  oh." he moaned.

   The heat all around his prick head left, leaving cool air that didn't
feel good at all.  Her blond head came up.

   "You like that?" she asked, licking her lips.

   "Ohhh pleeease do it some more." he pleaded.

   She happily went back to sucking, loving the feel of his smooth skin. 
She could play with that cute foreskin with her tongue and she did so,
moving her lips to force it off the head and then licking it as it tried to
cover him again.  She tasted more of the bitter/sweet stuff and swallowed
it, along with saliva that seemed to be pouring into her mouth.  She took
more of his cock into her mouth, feeling downward with her lips, feeling
the head trying to go into the back of her throat.  She gagged, and didn't
like that feeling, so she pulled back to play with just the head.  She
liked that better.

   Robby had lain rigid while she loved his prick.  He wanted to shoot, but
the thought of doing that with her mouth down there was something he was
just sure she'd be mad at if he did it.  But it felt too good.

   "Deb, something's going to happen." he warned, his voice tight as he
tried not to make a horrible mistake.  "You need to stop now!"

   She did, raising her head.  "Is it going to squirt?" she asked.

   He nodded.  "Yeah, that feels too good."

   She stared at her brother's eyes.  "You taste good." she said.

   Then she let her face fall and took him in her mouth again.

   For Robby, it was like somebody had slapped him ten or fifteen times. 
He closed his eyes tightly as his face went into a grimace and his mouth
opened wide.  He felt it deep in his balls ...  an ache that could only be
eased by one thing.  Then, before he could take another breath his prick
started spouting ribbons of thick cum.

   Debbie knew what to expect only insofar as she had seen him squirt
before, and helped clean up the spots where they had made a mess on the
bed. But confining that to just her mouth was much more difficult than she
thought it would be.  She got two swallows in before her mouth overflowed
and her brother's sperm began leaking from the corners of her mouth.  She
felt like she was going to choke and pulled her mouth off of him, taking
one spurt right on where, if she were a male, she might have a moustache.
She could have posed for a commercial that wouldn't be seen for thirty
years, in which the tag line was "Got Milk?" Except, of course, for the
fact that her "milk" was now dripping down across her lips and chin and
beginning to drop in strings down to her breasts.  She swallowed twice
more, her mouth clearing at last, and her hands came up to catch the mess.
In concentration it tasted different and she realized that she loved the
taste.  She began licking her hands, cleaning them like a kitten cleans its
paws.

   Robby just lay there dazed, his prick oozing more of the stuff that
puddled in his hair to join what had leaked out of her mouth before she
gave up.

   "I can't believe you did that." he panted.

   Debbie licked her palm and the heel of one hand, even though they looked
clean by now.  "That was fun." she said.  "But I'm REALLY horny now." She
looked at her brother.  "Would you do that ...  for me?" she asked.

   Robby thought about that.  He'd seen Smith doing that to his mother, and
she had obviously loved it.  But it seemed ...  gross.  Still, she had done
it for him, and if his mother loved it, then maybe Debbie would love it
too. He would do it for HER ...  even if he didn't really want to.

   He rolled, to make room for her on the bed and she arranged herself like
she had the other day, opening herself wide for him.  He got on his hands
and knees and slowly let his face get closer to her sex as he looked
closely at her pussy.  He noticed things he'd never noticed before ... 
fine hairs sprouting above her clit.  Her clit itself was enlarged and
clearly visible.  He looked at it closely and realized it looked something
like the tip of his own cock, with a tiny foreskin and an even tinier prick
head peeping out of that hood of skin.

   He sniffed.

   The guys at school had talked about fish smell, but she didn't smell
anything like any fish he'd ever been around.  Her scent was strong, but
not bad.  One time he'd sniffed her panties which she'd left in the hamper
and this didn't smell anything like that had either.  Her fingers appeared
in front of his eyes, pulling her pussy lips open, showing him the dark
cavern that they hid.  He decided to touch the tip of his tongue to her
clit first ...  to see what the taste was like.  He couldn't see, and he
pressed his stiff tongue against the organ much harder than he had planned.

   "Ah..UHU" she grunted and her hips thrust up off the bed, smashing into
his face.

   Robby's face was wet with her juices.  Her odor was all around him now,
and his lips were wet.  He licked them automatically and found a spicy
pungent taste that wasn't anything like what he had expected.

   She tasted GOOD!

   Robby thrust his mouth and nose into her pussy, this time intending to
press hard.  His tongue led the way, seeking that dark hole she had
exposed, and finding it.  He tried to stick his tongue into that hole as
far as he could.  Even if it was only an inch or a little more, her
reaction was more than satisfactory.  Her voice made a grating sound and
she cried out, her hands gripping his hair painfully.  The fact that they
pulled turned what had sounded like pain into something that he knew she
loved.  She jerked her hips around so much that his face lost contact and
bounced against the inside of one thigh.

   Robby went to his elbows, sliding his hands under his sister's buttocks
and then he made an "o" of his lips and aimed for her clit.  When he felt
his lips close around it, he sucked and pulled her up into his face so she
couldn't wiggle loose.  Her clit came farther into his mouth than he
thought it would and he found he could nip it with his teeth.  Knowing that
it would hurt if he bit her too hard, he alternated with sucking hard,
nipping with his teeth, and swabbing it with his tongue.

   Debbie went crazy.  She screamed and her arms and head flailed.  She sat
up and then flopped back down.  Her voice sounded agonized, but with a tone
that said she was NOT in agony.  Her pussy provided so much juice as she
came that his face made wet squelching sounds, like a foot in a shoe filled
with water as someone walked in it.

   Debbie finally lay limp, her multiple orgasms having robbed her of the
strength to do anything except drag breath into her lungs.  Her legs lay
akimbo, her pussy lips swollen with blood as Robby finally pushed himself
away from her.  He was painfully hard and, as he sat on his heels, he
stroked his prick, staring at the luscious pussy he could still taste on
his lips.  Debbie looked up at him through her lashes, anticipating what
she knew he'd do.  And, when he groaned and leaned forward, she mustered
the strength to lift her pussy up to meet his cock as it began unloading
his semen-packed balls.  He only meant to splash her pussy lips with his
goo.  But, as a half ounce of his thick spunk rocketed out of his prick,
the head kissed those lips and sealed.  All that spunk shot right up into
her pussy.  The only thing that saved what was left of her virginity was
that, feeling that warm bath inside her pussy, she went weak again, and
dropped her buttocks back to the bed.

   Then, as he collapsed on top of her, instead of his prick boring into
her pussy, it lay at the gates and the rest of his spunk went where he'd
intended it to go, soaking her pussy lips and mons as he continued to
spurt.

   Chapter eight

   An hour had passed since the teens discovered oral sex.  Satisfied for
the moment and cleaned up, Robby and Debbie entered the doors of the Howard
County Public Library, where Penny Martin, Head Librarian, proudly waited
to serve the few customers who came her way.

   Penny had only graduated from college with her cherished library science
degree about six months earlier.  The placement service at the college had
found her a job offer before she even graduated.  That she'd landed a job
as "head librarian" almost immediately had impressed her parents.  What she
hadn't told them was that it was in a hick town in a remote county that
couldn't pay for more than one staff member.  So while she was the "head"
librarian, she was also the only librarian.  Still, it was a job, and the
cost of living in Nettleton was workable, and she was basically thrilled.

   Some of the thrill wore off when she realized there might actually be
days when the only patron she served might be old Mr.  Breckenridge, who
was retired and had nothing better to do than sit in the library and sleep
with a book open in his lap.  He did that pretty much every day, especially
since the pretty young librarian had been hired.  He was there today, in
fact.  Or perhaps the hospital would call and ask her to bring around a
selection of books for the patients to read while they were laid up.  It
being summer time, no students came to do any research.  They all had
better things to do.

   So, when Debbie and Robby walked in, they got good service.

   Well, they got good service until Penny found out what they wanted.  She
could recite Dewey Decimal System numbers in her sleep, including history,
but she quickly found that the history section of her library was a bit
sparse when it came to history concerning the town, county and even state.
There was a really nice selection of books on World War II which, she
noticed, were actually in the wrong section, but she had nothing on the old
house the town was named for.

   All three of them were so intent on searching for a book on the shelves
that they were startled when old Mr.  Breckenridge shuffled up the aisle.

   "Couldn't help but hear what these young'uns wanted." he said, his voice
a little too loud.  "Ain't a goin' tuh find it here." he added.

   "Oh?" inquired Penny.

   "Yup" said Breckenridge.  "All that's down in tha basement." he slurred.
"Madge packed it all away 'cause nobody ever wanted it."

   Madge was the previous head librarian, who had retired herself and never
ever came to the library after she locked the doors the final time.

   "Ah kin show ya" he grinned.  "Ah helped her put it down there."

   The Howard County Public Library was, in reality, a house built in the
twenties, that had been taken over by the county for taxes during the Great
Depression.  Walls had been knocked down and replaced with pillars, making
it into two rooms, one quite large and the other quite small.  A bathroom
had been added when inside plumbing came into vogue and the narrow steep
wooden staircase still lurked behind a warped door in the wall that had
been a kitchen wall in years past.  The tiny kitchen now acted as an
office.

   Penny had descended those stairs a couple of times since being hired,
but she didn't go down there often.  The books she had found down there
weren't suitable for display, being musty, thick with absorbed moisture,
and falling apart for the most part.  There were boxes and boxes of records
of who had checked out what over the years.  Basically it was all junk, but
the cobwebs kept Penny at bay.  She hated spiders.  Her original plans to
clean it all out had been put on hold.

   Now, as she led the way down the stairs, and pulled the string that lit
the bare bulb that hung by a cord from the floor joists above, she
shivered. She made room for the kids, who came next, and Mr.  Breckenridge,
who eased his aching joints down the stairs entirely too slowly to suit
Penny.

   "Ain't as spry as I used to be." he mumbled, peering into the
semi-darkness of the basement.  "Should be over that-a-way." he pointed
with a skinny finger, on which rested a discolored and too-long fingernail.

   "That-a-way" turned out to be a far corner, which very little light
penetrated into.  Penny looked at the kids, who looked perfectly at home,
as if they prowled around in dusty, damp and cobwebbed environs on a
regular basis.  She shuddered again.

   "I don't want to get my clothes all dirty." she complained.

   "That's OK." said Robby.  "I'll move anything that needs moving."

   Truth be told, they'd never have found anything if he hadn't been for
Homer Breckenridge, who had a memory better than his appearance might have
suggested.  He shuffled unerringly to the far corner and pointed again.

   "Look behind them boxes there." he said.

   Robby had to move several boxes overflowing with old cards that had
names scrawled on them, with dates after them.  Why someone had kept them
was a mystery, but had they been studied, they would have provided a
remarkable history of what the townspeople of years gone by had read. 
Clouds of dust billowed into the air as Robby restacked boxes on top of
other boxes.  Finally he uncovered one battered wooden crate that was
neatly packed with ledgers, a few books, and a number of yellowed
newspapers.

   Penny directed them to take the crate upstairs, trying to get out of the
basement as quickly as she could.  Once upstairs again, they unpacked the
crate on a table.  Homer lifted several of the folded newspapers and opened
them with a surprisingly gentle touch.  They all appeared to be editions of
"The Nettleton Crier".  There were no pictures, to speak of, but huge
printed headlines were scattered all over the front, as well as some
drawings that depicted various things, including advertisements for various
medicines and other items for sale by merchants of the town.  Debbie's eyes
were drawn to a hand drawing of a woman wearing a hat and a dress just like
Debbie had put on during dress-up play many times.  It looked much more
full below the waist than it did when Debbie wore hers.

   The ledgers turned out to contain information about the mines.  One thin
book, in surprisingly good condition was titled "The Nettleton Empire".  It
was a handwritten history of the Nettleton mining operation.  The last
entry said only "Company sold in probate after the tragic incident."

   Penny, her curiosity peaked by actually having something to do, began
leafing through the book, while Homer pointed out various newspaper
articles.

   "I 'member some of that now." he wheezed.  "Sad times they were.  Those
poor little babies."

   "What babies?" asked Debbie.

   Homer's eyes went out of focus.  "They wuz two little 'uns left after
the momma and daddy wuz killed.  They caught them two what dun it and
'lectrocuted 'em.  'Lectrocuted the feller what hired 'em too.  Bunch of us
drove up to the pen'tentiary and stood outside to watch the lights dim.  I
wuz there when they fried.  Saw the whole thing."

   "What?" asked Robby shocked.  "What are you talking about?"

   "Killers ...  hired killers" said Homer explosively.  "Snuck in thar and
kilt the parents one night.  They wuz a little boy and a little gurl in
there when it happened.  Found 'em hidin' somewhere in that old place. 
Them killers said they'd have dun fer the kids too if'n they'd a bin able
tuh find 'em." He sighed.  "Them kids found thar kin all slaughtered and
raised the cry."

   Debbie gasped.  She had been leafing through newspapers and pointed at
one.

   "Here it is!" she said.

   Everyone peered at the huge type on the front page.

   "PILLARS OF COMMUNITY SLAIN IN VILE MURDER!" screamed the headline,
which looked to be three inches tall and took up the top quarter of the
page.  The story went on to describe, in gruesome detail, what the town
constable had found when he was summoned to the Nettleton Mansion by a
hysterical woman employed as a cook by the Nettletons.  The cook was in her
room in the carriage house when Robert E.  Nettleton, age six and his
sister Elizabeth R.  Nettleton, age four, burst into the room crying and
covered in blood.  She had fearfully gone with them to find their parents
slaughtered in the master bedroom.  The children had been hugging their
dead parents, trying to get them to get up, and when that failed, had gone
to get the cook.  The investigation had revealed the house had been
ransacked and a number of items appeared to be missing.  All other staff
members in the mansion had been gone that night, to a dance in town.

   There was another article on the same page in one corner that reminded
readers of the death of an unidentified Nettleton boy at the hands of
would-be kidnappers and, later, the murder of Constance Nettleton in the
very same room that this crime had taken place in, some forty years
earlier. It was suggested that a demonic presence inhabited the house, and
that this demon required history to repeat itself.

   The newspapers had been stacked in date order, and the next day's
edition also had a banner headline.

   "MURDERERS CAUGHT RED HANDED!" That story told how a posse had been
formed and had fanned out across the county using the technology of the
day, the internal combustion automobile to speed them to points where a
cordon had been established.  When two blood spattered men carrying a gunny
sack were observed, they were taken into custody and found to have the
Nettleton silver in the bag, as well as other items identified by servants
as property of the slain Nettletons.

   Another slightly smaller headline at the right lower corner of the front
page said:

   "NETTLETON ORPHANS REMOVED FROM SAD STRUCTURE."

   That story was about how there were no relatives to be found, and the
children had been removed to a boarding house where they would be cared for
until their murdered father's will could be located.  That such an
instrument existed was clear, since Mr.  Wilfred Tower, an attorney in the
town, swore before the circuit judge that he had executed such a document
within the last year.  The will had not yet been found.

   In another paper with a later date, there was another front page story
with a drawing of a man, strapped in a large wooden chair, his head hooded,
with wires going from the chair to a wall.  The story told of the swift
trial and execution of the murderers, and the man who hired them to perform
their grisly task.  It also verified Homer's assertion that the henchmen
had admitted they'd have killed the children too if they'd been able to
find them in the house.

   The next paper in line was dated five months later, with much smaller
headlines, but still on the front page.  That story told of the finding of
the will.  Details of what was in the will were sketchy, but the
disposition of the two orphans was discussed, identifying one Margaret
Swales as having been identified in the will as the guardian of the
children.

   The next paper didn't appear to have anything in it at first glance,
but, on the inside they found a small article that had the headline:

   "Orphaned waifs' ordeal continues" That story told of Mrs.  Swales
inability to care for the Nettleton children due to her confinement to a
sanitarium, and of their assignment of a new guardian.  The entire article
was no more than seven lines long.

   There were additional articles, quite small on average, that mentioned
this or that milestone in a Nettleton child's life.  There was one that
spoke of their entry into the public school system, using only "the
Nettleton children" as identifying data, and another one later that
heralded Robert Nettleton's graduation from school and his impending
assignment as a missionary in "blackest Africa".

   By the time they were finished going through the main documents it was
clear that, what had riveted the townspeople in the beginning, took on less
and less significance as time went on.  The last newspaper article they
could find was about the house itself, and how two young men had been
apprehended trying to sneak into it on a dare.  The article said it had
been shuttered up until the return of "the present owner", who was not
identified by name.

   Debbie looked at her Bulova wristwatch.  They had been reading for two
hours, and there was a lot of materials in the crate no one had examined
yet.

   "Miss Martin, can you keep this somewhere for us until we can come
back?" she asked.

   Penny looked askance at the crate.  "As far as I'm concerned you can
take it all with you." She dusted her hands by clapping them together. 
"That doesn't really belong in the library." she pronounced.  "If anything
it should be in the museum or someplace like that ...  if anybody wants it
at all." She had, after all, only been in town for six months, and had no
curiosity about the Nettleton Mansion.  In truth, she had never even been
by the place.

   Debbie began repacking the crate immediately.  She planned on taking it
home and going through it more carefully.  They had learned a lot, but she
knew there was more information in there and she wanted to know that too.
Robby carried the crate on his shoulder as they walked back to the house.

   Homer Breckenridge tried to accompany them, giving them unasked for
advice.

   "You'uns stay clear of that place.  It's hainted.  The poor souls of all
them murdered folk drift through there at night.  Ah seen em mahsef."

   Debbie looked at him curiously.  "When did you see them?" she asked.

   The old man smiled, revealing he had lost some teeth along the way.  "Ah
used to walk by there sometimes.  Ah seen lights through them winders. 
Cain't nobody get in there any more.  Them lights is the ghosts of all them
Nettletons, you mark mah words."

   Debbie had a pretty good idea of what those lights actually were.  Those
lights the old man had seen were from the candles she and Robby had used to
explore.  They hadn't thought anybody would be looking through the trees at
the old place, and hadn't been all that careful about using those candles.

   "How cum ya'll want to know 'bout that place anyways?" asked Homer.

   "There's a man moving in there." said Debbie, still thinking of whether
anyone else might have seen their candles.

   "Ya don't say!" said Homer.  "Well, he'd have tuh be a Nettleton.  They
ain't never sold that house.  It's got tuh be that little orphan boy iffen
you ask me." He scratched at his beard.  "Mov'in in there huh?" he mused.
"I never heered 'bout that."

   Robby was uncomfortable at the man's interest in the manor.  "I think
it's supposed to be a secret or something." he said.

   Homer stopped.  His joints ached from all the walking they'd already
done.  He was thinking now about a pint of whiskey he'd hidden away at Miss
Dixie's boarding house, where he had a room, and where alcohol was strictly
forbidden.  "Wahl, you'uns member whut ah told yuh.  They's ghosts 'round
that place.  And if they's a Nettleton back there, then there'll be death
'round that place too.  Mark mah words!"

   The two teens hurried on, leaving the old man behind.

   "You think he's right?" asked Robby, puffing a little.  The crate was
heavy and awkward on his shoulder.

   "He must be." said Debbie.  "At least about it being a Nettleton moving
back in.  That's what Mister Smith said.  Who else would even want to?" she
asked.  "But that doesn't explain how she knows Smith.  How could she have
known him?"

   "I don't know, but didn't she say Smith had been gone somewhere for a
long time.  And didn't the paper say that boy went into the missionaries?
Maybe Smith is the little boy!" Robby was excited now.

   "That still doesn't say how Mom would know him." said Debbie doubtfully.

   "Well, Mom's about the same age, and the paper said he went to public
school.  Maybe they went to school together." Robby sounded convinced
already.

   By the time they got home they expected their mother within the hour. 
For some reason they didn't want to share what they'd found with her, so
they hid the crate in the garage.  They figured it would be safe there
because that room was just slightly too full of junk to park the car in
unless it was going to storm or hail or something like that.  Just in case,
they piled an old tarp on top of it.  Then they had to clean up.  Both had
smudges on their skin and clothing from the dusty library basement.  Robby
wanted to play as they changed clothes and used wash cloths to clean their
arms and faces, but Debbie pushed him away.

   "We don't have time.  You'll have to be patient and wait." She smiled at
the look on his face.  Her mother kept telling HER to be patient.  Somehow
it felt good to make somebody else wait for something he wanted too.  She
teased him by rubbing her hand across his crotch, and then ran, laughing
from the bathroom as he gave chase.

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

   Ramona drove home quickly, speeding a little.  She wanted to go see
Robert again tonight ...  couldn't wait to see him in fact ...  but there
were the children to deal with.  She knew they were curious and sensed they
were suspicious.  If she didn't have an iron-clad reason to go visit
"Smith" they'd get even more suspicious.  She had played over and over
again in her mind the various ways she could introduce "Smith" as their
uncle, and had tried to imagine how she would tell them of their hidden
heritage.  In every scenario she had dreamed up it all fell to pieces.  She
had no idea how she'd end up doing it.  There was dread in her about that.

   That dread, in juxtaposition with her excitement at meeting with Robert
again ...  being loved by Robert again ...  made her jumpy and irritable
during the day.  Her co-workers chalked it up to her change of jobs, and to
having to deal with the strange man who represented Robert Nettleton.

   After having rushed to get home, when she parked, Ramona sat in the car
for a few moments, ambivalent about getting out.  She still hadn't thought
of a way to break away from her children and go see Robert.  It was when
she reached for her briefcase that the idea came to her.

   She got out of the car to the sound of laughter and screams.  Debbie
came running around the corner of the house, looking over her shoulder, her
hair flying.  She was flushed and laughing and Ramona's heart lurched in
her chest.  Her daughter was so beautiful and healthy and carefree that it
almost made her cry.  She had to drop the briefcase and put her hands out
to avoid being run down by her daughter, who didn't know that either her
mother or the car were there.

   Just as Debbie ran into her mother's arms, Robby came charging around
the corner too, growling and roaring like some kind of animal.  But the
look on his face was one of glee, and not anger.

   There was a general pile-up of bodies as Ramona was pushed up against
the car by her two children.  There were gasps and shouts from all three,
who ended up in a group hug that wiggled and moved as Robby tried to tickle
first his sister and then his mother too, growling again.

   "STOP!" laughed Ramona, pushing both of them away in self defense.  Her
children moved away from her, but eyed each other warily.

   "What on earth has gotten into you two?" she said, her heart thudding in
her chest as the adrenaline rush of being run into subsided.

   "Robby was being mean to me." whined Debbie in a voice that made it
clear she wasn't in the least bit angry or upset.

   "You'll know when I'm REALLY being mean to you!" he growled.  "I'll SHOW
you!" and he darted for her, his hands reaching for her ribs.

   Then she was off and running like a deer again, back around the same
corner, with Robby in full chase, like they were ten instead of almost
grown.  Ramona grinned and bent over to pick up her briefcase, shaking her
head and going toward the door.  Life was good, she decided, regardless of
the ups and downs they were experiencing.  Life was just pretty good.

   While their mother went into the house to fix supper Debbie led her
brother on a chase into the woods next to the fence to the manor.  She
tripped on a root and flailed her arms for balance, going down on the soft
humus covering of the forest floor.  Naturally, Robby caught up with her.
She gripped the black iron of the fence bars and gained her feet just as
his hands went on either side of her, imprisoning her as his body crushed
hers against the fence.

   "Got you!" he panted.

   "Only because I tripped." she said in a fake sulk.

   Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she, too, breathed in heavily.
Her hands went to his waist.  The chase had awakened something in them that
their ancient ancestors might have felt during a pursuit like that.  The
purpose of their ancestors' chase, however, was not for fun and games, but
to make sexual conquest.  Debbie responded to that ancient drive.  She had
been caught, and she surrendered.  She leaned forward to kiss her brother.

   Robby responded, and their kiss turned torrid as their hands roamed all
over each other's bodies.  The drive to reap the fruits of the chase was
strong in both of them.  As Debbie felt her brother's fingers at the
buttons of her blouse, though, a voice cut through the stillness of the
forest.

   "What do we have here?"

   The teens sprang apart as if they had been goosed with a bare 220 volt
wire, and whirled to find Smith, dressed in what they now knew was his
disguise, his black hair and wild beard covering his face, and his body
draped in the ill fitting black trench coat.

   "I have found two little rabbits, playing in my woods." said the
gravelly voice, which they also knew was not the man's normal one.

   Both youths were wild eyed and panicked at having been caught in an
amorous embrace.  And this man knew they were brother and sister!  Their
world teetered on the edge of disaster.

   In such circumstances, there is a normal response the body makes.  It is
sometimes called the "fight or flight syndrome", and the body prepares
itself automatically for either of those two options.  Normally, that means
the body, usually in it's placid state, is infused with various hormones
and chemicals on a more or less instant basis, and the results can be
astonishing.  Adrenaline is one of the primary hormones released during a
stressful incident.  Debbie's body had already produced a measurable
quantity of adrenaline in the excitement of the chase and the expectation
that sexual activity was going to occur.  Now, the fright and anguish she
felt gave her an extra shot.

   Basically, she was hopped up on hormones to the point that her response
was to fight, rather than flee.  A second consideration might have been
that Smith was on the other side of the iron fence, providing a certain
amount of unstated security.  A third aspect of the confrontation was that
her unconscious mind keyed in on Smith's use of the term "my woods", which
was in direct contravention to how Debbie thought about "her woods".

   "YOU HORRIBLE OLD MAN!" she shouted, her mind relating to the disguise,
rather than the much younger man who wore it.  "HOW DARE YOU SPY ON US IN
OUR WOODS!" In her frustration and rage at her present circumstances, she
bent to the forest floor and her hand grabbed a fistful of matted leaves
and soil, which she then flung through the bars.  The detritus fluttered,
expanding, and fell to the ground inside the fence, feet short of hitting
the man.

   "I HATE YOU!  I HATE YOU!" screamed the girl, stomping her feet in a
tantrum of rage.  "YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!"

   Smith didn't move when she threw the handful of leaves at him.  His
beard made it difficult to tell what his face looked like, but it moved in
ways that made it look like he was smiling.

   "Well, well, the little rabbit has fangs, she does." He stared at the
two, looking at Robby, who was poised on the balls of his feet.  "So you
feel these are your woods too." he mused.  "That, little rabbit is a very
interesting thing to me.  Perhaps you could tell me why that is the way you
feel?"

   His complete dismissal of Debbie's hostile speech and actions were
unsettling, as if he felt completely secure, and was neither offended or
worried about them.  And, adrenaline is a short acting hormone.  It breaks
down in the blood stream after releasing glucose for the muscles to use,
leaving the host much weaker ...  and just as suddenly as it made the host
feel strong and ready to fight.

   But there was a little fight left in Debbie.  "I wouldn't tell YOU
anything!" she snarled.

   Smith's beard moved as if he were smiling again.  "Well, then, perhaps
your mother might be able to shed some light on this issue?  Perhaps I
should mention to her that I met you in ...  your woods?"

   His unspoken threat to tell their mother just what he saw them doing in
...  their woods ...  hung heavily in the still air.

   Debbie looked stricken, her face red, and tears flushed her eyes so much
she couldn't see.  She used the heels of her hands to rub her eyes dry and
felt fury that she cried in front of this man.  Her emotions were at such a
fever pitch though, that she was virtually speechless now.

   Robby stepped forward.  "We've done nothing to harm you." he said, his
voice heavy.  "You have no call to ..." He couldn't put into words what
changes Smith might be able to make in their lives.

   Smith, standing so placidly on the other side of the fence, shrugged his
bulky shoulders.

   "It is not my intention to cause either of you pain." he said seriously.
"Quite the opposite, in fact.  But discussion of that must be for another
time." He looked down the fence line in both directions.  "I have my survey
to finish.  Perhaps we can discuss this at some time when emotions are not
so high."

   Debbie's emotions were like the blips of a heart monitor, jumping from
low to high, though in a much less steady beat than a healthy heart would
make.

   "Please ..." she pleaded.  "Please don't tell our mother." Tears ran
down her cheeks.

   "Do not worry, little rabbit." said the man, turning to face down the
fence line.  "I may be a horrible old man, but I have a heart."

   Then, ignoring them, he trudged along the fence away from them.

   Left alone, the threat receding from them, and their sudden gift of
strength just as suddenly gone, the teens slumped.  Debbie flowed into her
brother's arms, but this time it was for comfort, rather than erotic
thrill.

   "What are we going to do?" she moaned.  It was a question she was asking
a lot these days, but it didn't seem to have an answer.

   Chapter Nine

   Ramona noticed the subdued demeanor of her children at supper.  Gone was
their carefree exuberance and the laughter that went with it.  She started
to ask them what was wrong, but decided not to.  In some ways her children
seemed like strangers lately, but she chalked that up to puberty and the
inner turmoil that all teenagers faced sooner or later as they grew to
adulthood.

   She had been happy that they were so light hearted, since she thought
that would be a buffer to her announcement that she had some papers for
Smith to sign and needed to take them to him that night.  The result of her
statement, made in passing, was not what she'd expected.  She'd expected
Debbie to make some snide comment about Smith, or object in some way. 
She'd expected Robby to just sit, silent, as he did so often when Smith was
discussed.

   Instead, Debbie turned red and shifted in her chair silently.  It was
Robby who spoke.

   "I thought that was your job." he said, his fork suspended halfway to
his mouth.  "Why didn't you take them to him today?" He, too, looked
uncomfortable, but not angry.

   Ramona hadn't thought she'd be questioned like that, and her mind
scrabbled for a believable answer.

   "Well ...  um ...  they weren't ready in time." she said.

   Robby, of course, knew exactly why his mother wanted to go see Smith. 
And, while the sight of the man rutting into his beautiful mother turned
him on, it was also distasteful in some way he couldn't understand.  The
image of his mother's milky white breasts shaking as the man slammed into
her was burned into his memory, as was her assent to being made pregnant.
That just wasn't the woman who was sitting across the table from him now,
and he didn't want her to go be that woman again.

   "So, have him sign them tomorrow." he said, his voice tinged with
surliness.

   "I need to process them tomorrow." said his mother.  "And I'm right
here, next door.  It'll save time if I take care of them tonight." She
couldn't understand her children's resistance to this, and it was a pivotal
part of her plan to see her brother more often.  She pushed that plan.

   "In fact, I plan on seeing him a lot while I'm here at home.  It's so
much quicker than driving all the way over here during the day and wading
through all those contractors." It sounded eminently reasonable to her,
despite the fact that the bank was only six blocks from the manor.

   "Yeah, right." said Robby heavily.

   What was running through his mind was the fact that Smith knew the twins
didn't like him, and that Smith had a piece of information that could ruin
things even more than he had ruined things already.  It was inevitable,
based on what she had been doing with him, that she would see him again. 
It was also inevitable, in Robby's mind, that he would tell her what he had
seen.  At the same time, he hadn't seemed offended or outraged by what he'd
caught them doing, and that seemed odd somehow too.  His statement that he
meant the siblings no harm also twisted in Robby's mind, because it didn't
make sense either.  Debbie had all but declared war on him, but he acted
like nothing was wrong.

   Ramona wanted to hear assent from her children ...  to have their
permission to go next door more or less regularly, and because of that, she
heard Robby's comment as grudging acceptance that her plan did, in fact,
make sense.  She missed completely the ambivalence flashing across her
son's face.

   Ramona made herself wash the dishes before she went to see her brother.
While she felt no shame or guilt for what they shared, she knew that her
feelings were driving her and she didn't like the feeling of not being in
control.  There had been a lot of upheaval in her world of late, and
"deciding" what to do and when to do it helped her cope with the sensation
of being adrift on a sea with no rudder.

   But, as soon as her hands were dry, she picked up her briefcase and sang
out that she'd be back in a while.  Not waiting for an answer she hurried
out to the car.  She could have walked, but she felt like driving up to the
house would look better in case some passerby saw her enter the estate.

   As she sat in the car her pussy was already getting wet.

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

   Debbie had been keeping tabs on her mother, and as soon as she heard the
car door slam she ran to her brother's room.  He was lying on the bed, a
book open, but his eyes were staring at the ceiling.

   "Come on" she said, her voice hushed for some reason.  "She's going over
there."

   "Why should we go?" he asked, his voice dull.  "We know what she's going
to do."

   "He might tell her!" she snapped.  "We have to know if he tells her! 
Now come ON!"

   Debbie grabbed his wrist and pulled as he sat up and rolled off the bed.
When they got outside she kept pulling him as he tried to lag.

   "Come ON Robby!" she snarled.  "You want me to go by myself?"

   For some reason the idea of Debbie being in the house alone ...  with
Smith there ...  didn't sit well with Robby.  He increased his pace.  Soon
they were slipping through the woods behind the house.  It wasn't dark yet,
and they had to wait while they surveyed the back of the house.  Even more
had changed since the last time they'd been there.  The house was beginning
to look like a house, rather than the wreck it had been ever since they'd
put their eyes on it.  Eventually they felt safe in going out into the open
to reach the cellar steps.

   They darted down into the cellar and stopped only long enough to let
their eyes adapt a little bit to the darkness.  Then it was through the
secret door and down the tunnel to the thick door with the ring on it. 
They eased it open to minimize the squeal of the hinges.  Robby made a
mental note for possibly the fifth or sixth time to bring oil with him the
next time he came.

   At the top of the stairs they stopped, unconsciously trying to get their
breathing under control before going further.  Debbie stepped forward
first. She felt the slight tug as her ankle hit something, but the
sensation went away almost immediately as the thread that had been
stretched across the narrow hallway snapped.  There was the sound of a dull
thud up ahead of them somewhere, but no other noises, and they crept
forward.

   They heard voices in the dining room and stopped to see their mother
standing, her briefcase hanging from one hand, her arm straight as Smith,
without his disguise this time, kissed her firmly.  His right hand cupped
her left breast through her blouse.

   When the kiss was over she sighed.

   "I told the kids there were papers to be signed.  I told them I'd have
to do that a lot."

   "Much has changed, dear Rami" said the man.  "Things may not need to be
kept secret much longer.  I have much to tell you."

   Both teens took in panicked breaths of air at that, but they had no
chance to do more.

   "Then tell me in the bedroom." said their mother salaciously, "as we do
what I love most in the world."

   She set down the briefcase and pulled her lover toward the stairs, much
like Debbie had pulled her own brother out of the house and toward the
manor only moments before.  There was more talk, but the kids were already
moving toward the staircase that would lead them to the bedroom where they
had witnessed what was about to happen again to their mother.  They pressed
their faces against the peep holes as their mother and Smith entered the
room.  Debbie's gut tightened as she saw that her mother's blouse was
already unbuttoned, and that she had worn no bra to go "have papers
signed." Another lie.  She'd known it, of course, but the sight of her
mother's real intentions made a knot in her stomach.

   Smith, though, was not looking at his lover.  Instead, his head swiveled
around the room, his eyes low.

   "Oh look" he said calmly.  "A picture has fallen from the wall."

   "Never mind that Bobby, I need you now." demanded Ramona, shrugging her
blouse off and draping it across a chair.  "Wouldn't you rather look at me
than some old picture?" she asked coquettishly.

   Now Smith's eyes went to his sister.

   "Most assuredly" he said, smiling.  He went to her and leaned over to
suckle at an exposed and stiff nipple, his hand smoothing across the
buttocks of her slacks.  He kissed his way up to Ramona's lips as her
fingers went to the buttons of his own shirt and began undoing them.

   Robby, his gut tight too, couldn't, for some reason, watch his mother
being ravished again.  He hadn't yet analyzed the emotions associated with
watching his beautiful mother be made love to.  He hadn't yet realized that
the twisting in his guts was because some part of him wanted to be the man
rutting into her soft, white body.  He pushed back from the wall as
emotions raced through him and suddenly realized his prick was stone hard.
His eyes went to his sister and he automatically retreated into something
that brought them both pleasure ...  something that made the world feel
right.  He stepped behind her, reaching around to cup her breasts and press
his erection into her buttocks, which were jutted out as she leaned forward
to peer through the peep holes.

   "What are you DOING?" she hissed.

   "I don't want to watch them." he said.  "I'd rather do this to you."

   His hands slid to her waist and up under her shirt to her own unfettered
breasts, feeling for and squeezing her nipples slightly.

   "Not here." she moaned.  "Not now."

   She was trying to listen, though, and Smith was saying something.  She
didn't have the time to make her brother stop.  And the feelings coursing
through her loins at what she was witnessing made what he was doing feel
wonderful too.

   "Shhh" she said to the wall, even though it was she who was making the
most noise.  "They're saying something."

   Robby let his hands play across his sister's breasts, squeezing them and
flicking the nipples, which stood up proudly to be squeezed and flicked. 
He pulled her shirt up to give his hands room to move without catching in
the cloth and bunched it under her arm pits.  She ground her buttocks
against his hardon and he let his hands slide down her flat stomach to the
fastening of her jeans shorts.

   "Nooo" she whined.

   "Come on" he whispered in her ear.  "It'll feel good.  What are they
saying?"

   What Smith was saying was: "Slow down, my sweet.  As I said I have much
to tell you."

   Ramona wasn't interested in talk.  She wanted her pussy stuffed, and her
clitty abused.

   "I can't stay long." she moaned.  "Can't it wait?"

   "I don't think so." he said, cupping her breasts, unable himself to keep
his hands off her.  "I think your children know more than they have
admitted."

   That caught Debbie's full attention and she froze as Robby got her
shorts unbuttoned and started to slid his hand into her panties.  Her
automatic, completely unthinking response was to step to one side with each
foot, giving his fingers room to play.  But her attention was all on Smith.

   "What?" her mood interrupted by mention of her children, Ramona's
passion eased a bit.  "What do you mean?"

   "I told you someone had been in this house.  Now I have reason to
believe it's your children." he said flatly.

   "What?!" asked Ramona, astonished.  "That's impossible!" she said
automatically.

   Robby, not knowing what was being said, let his middle finger slip
between his sister's slick labia and felt for her joy button while his
other hand went back to cup a breast.  Debbie, too enraptured by what she
was hearing to pass the words along to her brother, held her breath.

   "I saw them by the fence this afternoon." he said.

   Debbie felt terror so great that what her brother was doing to her
didn't penetrate her consciousness at all.

   "That doesn't mean they've come in this house." said Ramona.  "They've
played in the woods since they were children."

   "Played ..." said Smith.  "An interesting word, that." He looked
directly at the bookcase, behind which Debbie and Robby were standing, as
if he somehow knew she was there and watching.

   Debbie pushed off the wall, against her brother's unyielding body.  His
back hit the opposite wall because there was nowhere else for him to go.

   "He's going to tell her." said Debbie, her voice choked.

   "What?" asked Robby, thinking so intently about where his hand were, and
how good if felt to feel her butt pressing against him, that he couldn't
concentrate fully on what she'd just said.

   Because Debbie had backed up, she didn't hear what Smith said next.  It
probably wouldn't have made any difference anyway, based on what happened
next.  There wouldn't have been time to do anything about it.

   "Rami, darling, don't you remember the passages?  The secret ways?"

   Ramona's head snapped backward as if she had been slapped.  Her last
memory of the house was stepping quietly through the secret hallway between
the walls, as her parents screamed.  They had hidden there as the screams
turned to gurgling moans and then stopped.  They had waited in the dark
until they had heard no noises for a long time.  Robert had just barely
been able to reach the release that let them through the wall into their
parents' bedroom.  There had been bright red spatters everywhere, but they
hadn't understood it was blood.  Blood came in small drops, from the prick
of a thorn, not in amounts so much that it looked like paint.  She
remembered her mother's eyes, open and staring, but her mother wouldn't say
anything.  That's what had frightened Ramona, and when she had started
crying.

   She shook her head.  She hadn't thought of the secret places in the
house for a long long time.  She watched as Robert suddenly stepped toward
the bookcase and reached for the hidden latch.

   Debbie, horrified by what she was sure was about to be told to her
mother, leaned forward again just in time to see Smith, facing her, his
body only a foot away.  There was a loud snap, and then a creak, and the
wall in front of her moved away from her face.  She fell forward as the
support she had been depending on disappeared.  Only her brother's hands,
one cupping her naked breast, and the other with its finger buried in her
pussy, saved her from falling forward.

   She squinted as she was suddenly bathed in light.

   "Ahhhh, said Smith in his disguised gravelly voice.  "The rabbits have
returned."

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

   Ramona looked unbelievingly at what was exposed when the bookcase swung
open on creaking hinges.  There, to her astonished gaze, was revealed her
daughter, whose shirt was up around her neck.  Her arms were out in front
of her like she had pushed the bookcase open.  Ramona's mind did a little
dancing twist.  Something wasn't right here.  She was finally able to
process the information that, despite the fact that both of Debbie's hands
were in plain sight, there was a hand cupping one of her naked breasts AND
another hand that was down in the opening of her shorts, which were
unbuttoned and unzipped!

   Ramona reeled as the body behind her daughter moved and a head appeared
over Debbie's shoulder.  She recognized as Robby.  The concept that her son
was standing behind her daughter, and that he was feeling her breast and
had his hand stuck down her pants was strange enough.  The fact that they
were in the secret passageway of the Nettleton Mansion made it all surreal.
Then, the fact that she was standing topless in the same house, and that
her children could see that, flipped some switch in her brain that
suggested a light nap might be in order.  Consciousness left her, her
vision fading into black as she crumpled to the floor.

   At first Debbie couldn't see anything because the sudden light made her
pupils slam closed.  She knew, though, that Smith and her mother could see
her and she was suddenly aware of exactly where Robby's hands were.  She
gave a little shriek and slapped at the hand holding her breast, hitting
the breast instead, which hurt.  Robby's hand jerked away, though, and she
pulled at his other hand, dragging it out of her pants.  Her vision began
to sharpen about the time her mother's collapsing body came into focus.

   "MOMMY!" she screamed, and lurched forward into the room, brushing past
Smith as if he didn't exist.

   Robby stumbled forward too as the pressure pushing his back against the
wall vanished and he found himself face to face with Smith.  Well, perhaps
face to face wasn't the best term, since Smith's face was turned toward
Robby's mother, who was lying in an boneless pile on the floor.  Both men
surged as one toward the fallen woman.

   By the time they got there Debbie was already kneeling, hovering over
her mother's body, her fingertips touching Ramona's face as she cried
"MOMMY!  MOMMY WHAT'S WRONG?"

   Smith knelt beside her, moving Ramona's arms around to a more
comfortable position, laying her out on her back.

   "I think she has only fainted.  Seeing you two was more than she could
deal with." he said, his face beside Debbie's.

   "She looks DEAD!" wailed Debbie.

   "No" said Smith forcefully.  "See, she breathes." He placed his hand
flat on their mother's naked chest, between her breasts.  Ramona moaned and
her head rolled to one side.

   Debbie slapped at Smith's arm forcefully.

   "Get your hands OFF her!" she yelled.  "This is all YOUR FAULT!"

   Smith rocked back on his calves.  "Everything is my fault, eh little
rabbit?"

   "AND STOP CALLING ME THAT!" yelled Debbie, turning her pale face up with
a horrible grimace.

   "What then should I call you?" he asked, not at all disturbed by her
anger.

   "HELP MY MOTHER!" demanded Debbie.

   "Perhaps you should close your pants before she awakens." suggested
Smith.  "I think perhaps seeing your brother's hands on your beautiful body
may have been part of why she is like this."

   The shock of his words hit Debbie as if he's slapped her.  She jumped to
her feet and fumbled frantically with her shorts, re-fastening what Robby
had undone.  Then she tugged at her shirt, pulling it back down to cover
her breasts.  She was about to shout at the man again when her mother's
hazel eyes opened.

   "Debbie?" she said, as if she wasn't sure it really was her daughter. 
Then her eyes went to the man beside her.  "Bobby?"

   "I'm here my sweet." he said soothingly.

   Ramona smiled, still not back to the present completely.  A face
appeared over her brother's shoulder, peering down at her anxiously.

   "Robby?" she said, her voice dreamlike.  Then: "Bobby, why are my
children here?"

   "I think they've been spying on us my darling." said Smith, as if he
were only saying that perhaps it would be good to have tomatoes with
supper.

   "Spying?" came Ramona's plaintive reply.  Her eyes cleared suddenly. 
The transition was stark and obvious and astonishing.

   "SPYING!?" she gasped.  She lifted her head and saw her own naked
breasts.  The magnitude of what was happening penetrated and she rolled
over, covering her head with her arms.  She began sobbing, her naked
shoulders shaking as if she were a rat in a terrier's jaws.

   Debbie's primary concern, up to that point, had been that she and Robby
had been caught, and that her mother would suddenly hate her for what
they'd done.  That self centeredness was normal for a teenager, for a human
at almost any stage of development.  And, when her mother began sobbing,
she naturally believed that it was from the disappointment she had just
been exposed to.  Her mother's emotion dislodged all her own, and she began
to sniffle and cry too.  Her anguish grew as she realized that all her
secrets were about to be made bare, exposed to the mother she loved.  She
couldn't bear keeping them any longer though and she collapsed on top of
her mother, sobbing herself and begging for forgiveness.  She was crying so
hard that she couldn't make her words intelligible, but she confessed to
everything she could think of that she had done to disappoint her mother,
begging for forgiveness.

   The men watched as the firestorm of emotion swept through the women. 
Robby felt twinges of guilt, but not anything even close to what his sister
was going through.  Some of that was because, while he had been caught with
his hands in his sister's pants, he had also caught this other man having
sex with his mother.  Robby, as the man of the family, acknowledged or not,
felt quite a bit of ownership over his mother and had no problem whatsoever
interceding for her if he perceived she was in some kind of danger or
stress.

   On the other hand, he recognized that their mother, being caught as she
had been, must feel like she had let her children down.  He agreed with
that, though he couldn't articulate why, but he loved her, and his
forgiveness for that aspect of things was both sincere and immediate.

   The only person present who was not in a Gordian knot of emotional
turmoil was Robert Ellsworth Nettleton, who among all of them, was the only
person who knew that sooner or later, when all this was sorted out, there
would be many more smiles and many fewer tears.

   Or so he hoped.

   He turned to look at Robby, whose attention was on his mother.  This was
the first chance Robert had had to really examine the boy.  He was a
strapping lad, that much was plain, with strong features ...  Nettleton
features.  There were old photographs put away in this house somewhere
that, he thought, would look a lot like this boy.  The dress in those
pictures would be different, of course, but there would be no doubt that
this boy was a Nettleton.

   He couldn't see much of the girl, hunched over her mother as she was. 
He had looked at her closely when he had been to their home for that one
disastrous meal.  She bore some resemblance to her mother, enough that one
would guess they were related, but she didn't really look much like Ramona
had when she had been that age.  Ramona, in those days, had maintained a
hunched, banal appearance.  She had wanted to blend in, to be overlooked.
This girl could not be overlooked.  She was fresh and vibrant and beautiful
in a way that made a man's pants feel tight.  And what a temper she had. 
Her flashing eyes could cut deep if she wanted them to.

   He turned to the boy.  "See to your mother." he commanded.

   Robby jerked at the tone of command, and flashed a dagger-like look at
the man.

   "She needs to know you still love her." added Robert.

   Robby's eyes widened.  "Of course I still love her." he said.  "But she
probably doesn't love me any more."

   "I suspect you are quite wrong in that assumption." said Robert.  "That
we will see soon enough.  But now she needs you."

   Robby went and knelt by his mother and sister, placing a hand on
Debbie's back and his mother's naked shoulder.  Her skin felt warm and
smooth, like his sister's.

   Robert went to the discarded blouse and picked it up, taking it to stand
beside the three members of the Franklin family.  He handed it to Robby.

   Ramona felt her daughter's body pressing on her back, and her daughter's
tears falling on her naked skin.  Debbie's litany of "I'm so sorry", said
over and over again penetrated her consciousness.  She felt surprise, and
welcomed it as it displaced a measure of her own shame.  That helped her
think a bit more clearly, and it suddenly popped into her mind that her
daughter ...  her children ...  were here ...  in the mansion ...  in the
secret passageway she hadn't though of since that horrible night when her
brother had led her through it to hide from the screams.

   Her head twisted to the side and she tried to look through her hair,
which was stuck to her face by her tears.

   "What are YOU doing here?" she moaned between sobs.

   Debbie wasn't in much better shape.  She was experiencing a wide range
of emotions.  There was the anger at Smith, the lust her brother's hand had
awakened in her as he had stroked her behind the wall, the shame of being
caught peeking, the shame of being caught with her brother's hands on her
body, the surprise and shock of being exposed in general, and the fear that
her mother wouldn't love her any more.  They all added up to a condition
that almost left her paralyzed, and she couldn't speak clearly.  Instead
she just clung to her mother.

   Robby felt a lot of those emotions too, but they didn't affect him quite
ass strongly as they did his sister.  What bubbled to the surface of his
mind was Smith's insistence that his mother needed him.  He held out her
blouse, dangling it over the pair of women on the floor, but didn't know
what to do next.

   It was Robert who brought a measure of organization to the chaos that
was immobilizing the three Franklins in the room.

   "Here!" he said forcefully.  "Rami, sit up." His hand went gently to
Debbie's shoulder and put pressure on it to get her off her mother's body.
She was so upset that she didn't even think to slap at that hated hand, or
demand that he remove it.  She rose to her knees, exposing her mother's
naked back.

   "Rami!" said Robert, again, forcefully.  "Your son has your blouse."

   Ramona brushed her hair away from her face and saw Robby then, the
blouse dangling from his hand as he knelt beside her.  That blouse would
cover her nakedness, and her brain suggested she should get it quickly. 
She pushed herself off the floor, sitting and exposing her nakedness to her
son as she snatched at the garment.  He took it back and spread it behind
her, as if he were helping her put on a coat and she shrugged into it,
pulling it closed across her breasts.  Her fingers fumbled at the buttons.
She kept her head down, unable to look at either of her children.

   "I don't understand." she moaned.

   "Things are not as they seem." said Robert.  "Things are not as bad as
they seem." he restated.

   That was such an odd statement that all three of the others turned their
faces to stare at him.

   "Come" he said.  "All of you.  We have much to discuss.  Then, perhaps
you will understand."

   He moved toward the door, to lead them out of the bedroom.  They
hesitated, but, unable to make their own decisions about what to do next,
they began to follow him.  He led them to the dining room, which had enough
chairs for them all and pulled one out for Ramona.

   "Sit down." he suggested, and she sank into the chair.

   He pulled another one out for Debbie, who balked and stepped away from
him.

   "Sit!" he commanded.

   Debbie looked at Robby, whose face was slack, as if he weren't all
there.

   "SIT!" thundered Robert.

   Debbie sank quickly into the chair and sighed with relief as Smith
stepped away from her.

   "You too young man" he said.  "Sit, and we'll talk."

   Finally Debbie's voice was under her control.

   "TALK!?" she yelled.  "All this has happened and you just want to
TALK?!"

   "You wish to know who I am, correct?  You wish to know why your mother
and I love each other, yes?  You have many questions.  I think talking is a
good thing at this time." he said simply.

   Debbie was speechless.  It was true that she wanted to know all those
things.  But his clear offer to answer them was so unsuspected, that she
was unprepared to actually ask a question.

   "And," he went on smiling.  "I think your mother should understand what
she just saw, and what I saw earlier today." It was clear, at least to the
children, that he was referring to the unconventional relationship Debbie
had with Robby.

   Debbie slumped, and the fear that had abated returned full force.

   Ramona listened to her brother's words, and she was reminded of what she
HAD seen ...  her son's hands ...  on her daughter's body ...  touching her
sexually.  What had he said about earlier?

   "What?" she asked.  Her head felt like there was a hive of bees inside
it, and she couldn't think because of all the buzzing thoughts that caromed
around in her brain.  "What happened earlier?"

   "I told you I saw them by the fence this afternoon."

   Ramona nodded, straining to remember what else he had said.

   "They were embracing." he said, and then paused, almost as if he were
teasing.  "They were kissing."

   Debbie's head went down.  Robby looked around wildly, as if he were
looking for a good place to hide.

   The effect this had on Ramona was startling.  Her head came up sharply
and she brushed her hair from her eyes, which were wide with comprehension,
at last.

   "Kissing?" she said, almost in a whisper.

   "Yes ...  kissing." said Robert.  "I found it most interesting, my
sweet."

   "But that means ..." Ramona said.

   "That means they are like us." said Robert gently.

   That statement didn't make any sense to either of the teens, but there
was something in Smith's voice that caused both of them to turn their eyes
to him.  They said nothing, but just stared.

   "I thought about the signs that someone had been in the mansion.  The
only way they could have gotten in was through the secret ways, so I
examined them and found many footprints in the dust.  I thought that, if it
was your children, they might have used the secret ways to try to spy ...
and that they might have seen things they do not understand."

   Everyone was still staring at him, captivated by his words.

   "And so I set a trap, suspending that picture," he pointed back toward
the room they had left, "by a threat that would be broken if anyone used
the secret ways.  When I saw that you were here, and that the picture had
fallen, I suspected I would find the spies behind the wall." He grinned. 
"It appears I was correct."

   Then he quit smiling.

   "I think it is time they learned who I am." said the man called Smith.

   Even though he was the one talking, both children's eyes went
immediately to their mother, who was sitting upright, and looking MUCH less
unhappy than they expected her to.  While she was not smiling, she was at
least composed, and her crying had vanished as if it had never been there
except for a slight darkness to her eyes and the shine of tears on her
cheeks.

   Ramona wiped at that dampness, her eyes going from her son's eyes to her
daughter's.  She took a breath.

   "Children, I'd like to introduce you to your Uncle ...  Robert
Nettleton."

   Chapter Ten

   There was silence after Ramona's pronouncement that not only was Smith
...  not Smith ...  he was also their uncle.

   Debbie managed to make the first noise.  "But we don't HAVE an uncle!"
she gasped.

   "Am I then a ghost?" asked Robert, smiling.  "Perhaps one of the ghosts
you say inhabit my house?"

   There was, despite the emotion and uncertainty of the moment, a subtle
shift in Debbie's thinking.  Her rational brain accepted that this man was
Robert Nettleton, whatever that meant.  She didn't believe her mother would
simply lie to her about that.  While she didn't understand what that meant
yet, her mind DID accept that this was a Nettleton, and that he had the
right to say it was "his" house.

   "You're dead!" choked Robby.

   Robert kept smiling and addressed Ramona.  "Your children have an
uncanny ability to communicate with ghosts, it appears."

   Ramona, after getting her last sentence out of her mouth, had been
unable to go on.  She hadn't been prepared to tell her children about
Robert, much less about what she and Robert shared.  But, during the
silence and interchange between the children and Robert, she had thought
frantically about his statement ...  that Debbie and Robby had been kissing
in the woods ...  and what she had seen them doing as the bookcase was
opened.  She had thought about what that meant, and it allowed her to go
on.

   "Children," she started, her voice that of a mother.  "My sweet
darlings," she said, altering her voice to try to express the love and
excitement that was welling in her chest.  "I couldn't tell you about
Robert.  There were ...  difficulties.  I didn't tell you about so many
things.  I was worried that it would affect you badly.  I have so much to
tell you I don't know where to start."

   "Nettleton!" said Debbie suddenly.  "ROBERT Nettleton!" She looked at
the man in awe.  "You're the little boy ...  your parents ...  you found
them ..." Her face filled with grief at what this man's memories must
contain.

   Robert's face didn't smile now.  "Your grandparents.  Yes, Rami and I
found them.  It was a bad time."

   "No!" said Debbie just as suddenly.  "Your sister's name was Elizabeth.
We read it in the papers!"

   "Papers?" asked Ramona, not understanding.

   "Yes!" said Debbie.  "At the library.  They had old newspapers.  They
had stories in them about what happened.  We read them." she said, looking
wonderingly at her ...  uncle." She looked at her mother, her face twisted
with questions.  "The papers said Robert and Elizabeth Nettleton.  And your
maiden name was Shanks." She shook her head, denying what she had been told
in this room.

   Robert held up his hand.  "Be at peace child.  We can explain all this
to you."

   "I'm NOT a child!" Debbie said, her anger sudden and hot.

   "No," mused her uncle, looking at her in a way that made her feel
uncomfortable.  "I suppose you are not at that." He smiled again.  "You are
a beautiful young woman.  Please accept my apologies."

   He stared at her a little longer.  Then, "Your mother changed her name
after the ...  when we were in foster care.  Things were very difficult for
us then.  People thought we carried some kind of curse.  We were in
boarding school for some years, and when we came back we didn't talk much
about who she was."

   Ramona joined in, having something now she could talk about.

   "He didn't care.  About our name, I mean.  I wanted to forget
everything. We went first to a place that was horrible, and they wouldn't
let me see Robert.  I hated that place.  Then, suddenly they took us to
live with a nice woman, who cared for us and loved us.  She was so nice to
us.  But then she got sick and had to go away.  Our new guardian was a cold
man, and there were other children in the house who treated us badly.  They
called me names."

   She trailed off, her face sad.  Then she went on.

   Even at the boarding school people looked at me strangely when they
heard my real name.  So when our guardian suggested that I take his name I
agreed.  Anything that would cause people not to stare at me I thought was
a good thing.  I began using my middle name too, Ramona, instead of
Elizabeth.  All I wanted was to be invisible ...  to be left alone."

   Debbie's heart was breaking at the story.  She realized there were
unshed tears in her eyes.

   "Why didn't you ever tell us?" she asked.  "Daddy never said anything
either."

   "I never told your father who I was." said their mother.  "When we
married and he brought me to our new home he had no idea it was next door
to the place I hated more than anywhere else in the world.  I couldn't tell
him.  He was so proud and we loved each other.  Then, when you were so
young he was taken from us.  I blamed the house ...  this house.  Maybe we
ARE cursed." she gave in a low cry.

   "Nonsense!" said Robert.  "Things happen in this big wide world.  Some
are good and some not.  Life is what you make of it.  You were happy with
Richard, yes?  And your wonderful children?  Did they not make you
gloriously happy?"

   "Of course" said Ramona sitting up straighter.  "They were my whole
life."

   "And all that happiness took place next to this house, did it not?" he
pressed.

   "Well, yes, but ..."

   "That is why I came back here." he said.  "I knew that I could find
happiness here, near to you.  And I knew that if, for some reason you were
not happy, I could give you happiness." It was an egotistical statement to
make ...  the assumption that her happiness depended on him.

   Yet, he spoke mere fact.  Both of them remembered the only happiness
they had experienced as they were growing up in a harsh world, the
happiness they felt when they were together.  And, while their sexual
passion for each other was unbridled, that was not the primary reason for
their happiness together.  They shared so many things that no one else in
the world could understand.  Their bond had been forged with a heavy
hammer, and they were welded together beyond anyone's ability to separate.
To Ramona, his statement did not come as one of self importance.

   Still, she had spent a long time alone, with only her children.

   "You took your time coming back to make me so gloriously happy." she
commented dryly.

   He actually bowed to her.  It was a movement that looked natural to him,
as if he had been raised in an environment where bowing was normal.

   "I wanted to come sooner, but could not.  When you stopped writing I
used some of my money to have men check on you." He smiled at her reaction
to having been survielled without her knowledge.  "I know, it was a
terrible thing to do, but I had to know whether you were well or not.  I
lived in the most squalid conditions, with people who had only two sticks
to rub together to make fire.  When the reports came that you were doing
well, I knew that those people needed me more than you did.  When they were
finally able to feed themselves, and had the knowledge to carry on, I came
here instead of finding another destitute village.  I found that I needed
you, as much as I thought you might need me."

   That speech brought back into the light what the children had peeked at
those several times ...  what they had been spying upon when they were
caught.

   "But ..." squeaked Debbie, "You're brother and sister!"

   "As are you two." said Robert smoothly.

   That caused both teens to blush and avert their eyes.

   Ramona was thinking what they were thinking.

   "How could this happen?  Between you two I mean?" she asked.

   "How did it happen between us?" asked Robert, looking at her intently.

   "That was different.  We were alone in the world.  You gave me love and
tenderness." she said.

   "Is it so different for two children who have lost their father to
accident, rather than crime?" asked her brother.  "They have still lost
their father, and are growing up alone in one sense.  The world is just as
harsh a place today as it was then.  They have fared better, perhaps, but
it has still been difficult for them."

   He turned his eyes on the children.

   Robby found his voice.  He was amazed by all he had heard, and had been
content just to listen.  But now he spoke.

   "Our lives have been wonderful." he said.  "I hardly remember my father.
We have no complaints at all!"

   "This is wonderful for me to hear." said their newly discovered uncle.
"Perhaps I have spent too many years with people who had to struggle every
minute to make their lives bearable.  I know I felt as if I were more
blessed than possible when I saw what they had to live like day in and day
out.  Perhaps I am jaded."

   "I still need you." said Ramona.  She darted a glance at her children.
While their lives might have been carefree, hers had not.  She didn't know
how to explain that to them without making it sound like they weren't worth
everything she'd had to go through.

   "You have to understand," she said to them.  "I wouldn't change anything
if it meant that you would disappear from my life.  I love you more than
life itself.  But I have never loved a man like I love this man."

   "Not even Daddy?" asked Debbie, who had only the vaguest fragmented
memories of the man she had just named.

   "I loved him." said Ramona firmly.  "He loved me and saved my life.  He
gave me you two, and YOU saved my life when he was taken from us.  It's
hard for me to explain, but when we were little, Robert saved my life too.
Without Robert I would have wasted away and died of a broken heart.  I love
him too, and I always will.  I cannot change that."

   "This is all so strange." said Debbie.  She looked at the man who, until
an hour ago she had called "Smith" and hated.  Now she didn't know how to
feel about him.  She had a sudden thought.

   "Then this IS our house!" she yipped.  She realized how that sounded and
restated it.  "I mean, our grandparents lived here, and YOU lived here,
Mommy.  That's YOUR bedroom upstairs ...  the one with the girl's things in
it!" She looked at her uncle.  "And the one with the toys!  That one was
YOUR room!"

   "How do you KNOW all this?" cried her mother.  She suddenly remembered
them in the secret passageway.  "How did you know about the secret places?"

   That led to another hour of discussion and explanation as the children
confessed to their countless trips to the house, how they'd found the bent
place in the fence, and then the root cellar and its secret tunnel.  They
talked about the games they played.  They left out the sexual games -that
was still something they were uncomfortable discussing - but described how
they had found things, and what they had thought of the things they found,
and how they had felt at home here, like they belonged in this place.

   "I never knew." said Ramona.  "My own children, spending hours and hours
here and I never knew!"

   "We were afraid you would have forbidden us to come back if you ever
caught us." said Debbie.

   "You were right." said their mother firmly.  "I would most certainly
have done that.  I can't believe you kept that secret from me!"

   "Like you kept the secret of who that horrible bearded man was when he
came to our house?  When he ruined everything?" Debbie shot back.  Then her
head jerked as she realized what she'd said.  "I mean it's not really
ruined, I guess.  But it was then." She got flustered.

   "I always hoped that once this place was restored to it's original
condition that I might lure your mother and you to live here with me." said
their uncle.  "I hadn't planned on suggesting that until you had gotten to
know me, but such is life."

   And THAT led to another hour of discussion about why the disguises and
subterfuge had all been necessary when Robert first came back ...  was
STILL necessary for another few weeks at least.

   And THAT led to an attempt to discuss, on the part of the kids at least,
where the money was coming from to do the extensive restoration that was
going on.  Neither of the teens was stupid, and they knew that it was going
to cost more money than they could imagine to complete the task.

   "Your Grandfather's fortune was passed on to us." said Robert simply.

   "I don't know about you," said Debbie, "but WE certainly don't have any
fortune."

   She looked at her mother, who was looking at her folded hands on top of
the dining room table.

   Ramona talked to her hands.  "There are several other things I never
told you."

   And THAT led to Debbie attempting to grill her mother about money, at
which point Robby stood up and said "I'm starving.  Can't we get something
to eat before we do any more talking?"

   Debbie was obviously consumed with curiosity about the "Nettleton
fortune", but Ramona stood up too.

   "An excellent idea!" she said.  "Be patient Debbie, we can talk about
all this more later."

   Debbie groaned and made much of being told to be "patient" again.  She
did, however, reflect for a moment on how much information she had gotten
in the last few hours, and how many of her questions had been answered,
albeit in an astonishing manner.  So she clamped her jaws together and
stood up too, at which time she realized she was also ravenous.

   "Would it be all right if I invite your Uncle to dinner again?" Ramona
asked.  Her voice was neutral.

   Both kids looked at each other.  This wasn't anything even remotely like
what they had expected when they wondered who Smith was, and it was all so
new that they still didn't know how they felt about things yet.  But he WAS
their uncle, and their mother DID love him.

   "Of course." said Robby, speaking for both of them.

   "We'll call for pizza." said Ramona.  "When was the last time you had
pizza Bobby?" she asked.

   "I can't even remember." he grinned.  "Must I wear my disguise, just to
go next door?"

   "You do and I won't speak to you." growled Debbie.  But she smiled
tentatively too.  "I have more questions."

   "I can't wait to give you answers." said her "new" uncle.

   Ramona, who had driven her car to the house, found her briefcase and
told the kids to come with her.  Robert suggested that by going the secret
way, he could get to the back of the house without being seen.  He asked
Robby and Debbie to go with him, and they immediately agreed.

   Ramona said she'd get pizzas on the way.

   The siblings and their uncle, who grabbed a flashlight, entered the
passageway through the same bookcase they'd been uncovered behind, pulling
it closed behind them.  Then they led their uncle back down to the tunnel.
The only thing they'd ever used for light was candles, and the flashlight
made it seem both lighter, where they were standing, and much darker, where
the light did not penetrate.  When they got to the root cellar and Robby
pushed the shelf/door open he commented on how amazing it was that a mere
six year old boy could have opened the heavy door.

   "There was a counterweight on it back then" said Robert.  "And the
hinges were oiled.  It opened quite easily.  I imagine the rope has broken
over the years.  I'll have to add that to my very long list of things to
repair."

   They led him up the stairs into the darkening evening, and then through
the trees to the fence.  They were surprised when he was able to fit
through the fence too.'

   "This opening must have been made by the men who killed your
Grandparents." said Robert sadly.  I saw it the other day, when I caught
... when I saw you two.  But I didn't think anything of it then.  From now
on you may enter the estate through the gate.  There are other smaller
gates also, but all are chained and locked with rusty old locks."

   "Are we really going to live in the manor?" asked Debbie.

   Her uncle walked along for a few more steps before he spoke.  "Nothing
would please me more." he said.  "But that it up to your mother.  I have no
claim to her, other than blood.  She may not wish to give up the home in
which you were raised.  And the mansion has bad memories for her.  I have
laid those ghosts to rest, but I don't know if Rami will be able to do
that."

   Robby spoke, his voice surprisingly adult.  "You really love her, don't
you." It was more of a statement than a question.

   Robert nodded.  "I love her above all else.  Were I destitute, the only
thing I would crave is her love."

   "But you're NOT destitute." said Debbie.  "How much money do you have?"
She couldn't resist asking and, as a mere teenager, she had not learned of
the unwritten rules of society that frowned mightily on asking such a
question.

   Robert laughed.  "I have a lot.  Your mother probably has more.  She has
never touched her inheritance.  I have spent some of mine."

   "You didn't answer my question." said Debbie, stopping at the edge of
the forest.  "How much?"

   "You will have to ask your mother that question." said her uncle with a
gleam in his eye.  "As I recall she wanted to wait to talk about that."

   "Oooooo!" said a frustrated Debbie.  "You two MUST be brother and
sister! You're both driving me crazy!" She stomped off toward the house.

   Robert and Robby watched her go.  Both men watched her butt cheeks lift
and drop as she strode along.

   "She has so much passion.  I think I am envious of you nephew." said
Robert.

   Robby shook his head slowly.  He, like his uncle, was watching the rise
and fall of Debbie's buttocks as she stomped across the yard.  "You have no
idea." he said.  "But I think that's what makes her irresistible to me." He
looked at his uncle.  "I think I might be a little envious of you too." he
said, ready to back up if things turned ugly.

   "Your mother is a beautiful and passionate woman too." said Robert,
completely unfazed at the idea that this boy might lust for his own mother.
"I am the luckiest of men in the world." He grinned.  "Except perhaps for
you."

   They hurried after Debbie, not so much because they were in a hurry, but
because she was getting too far away to watch.  She got in the door before
them and slammed it behind her.

   They found Debbie hounding her mother, who was setting out the fine
china again, even though all they'd eat on it was pizza.  Ramona, recovered
somewhat from the ordeal she'd just been through, seemed to be ignoring her
daughter.  When the men came in Ramona turned to them.

   "Take your uncle and show him the house." she said tersely.  "And take
your sister with you." It was apparent she was not as oblivious of Debbie's
repeated attempts to find out how rich the family was as it had first
seemed.

   "Maaahm" came Debbie's drawn out moan.

   "Go." said Ramona, unrepentant at her own obstinacy.

   Debbie dragged her feet on the carpet as the men turned toward the
hallway.  She followed them silently as they went to Robby's room and
various things Robby was proud of were pointed out.  Then they showed him
the bathroom and her mother's room.  Robert stood in the middle of Ramona's
bedroom and took in deep breaths.

   "This place smells like my sister." he said smiling.

   But when they got to Debbie's room she stood in the doorway, facing
them.

   "I'm still not sure I like you." she said, obviously still in a funk. 
"My room is private."

   Robby rolled his eyes and started to move her by force, but his uncle
stopped him.

   "One must always respect a lady's boudoir" he said.  "Perhaps one day I
shall see it." He turned toward the living room.  There was no place else
to see in the modest house.

   Robby shot his sister a dark look and then followed Robert.  Debbie
stood uncertainly in her doorway and then finally followed the men.

   The arrival of the pizzas interrupted any attempt by Debbie to pick up
where she'd left off.  She didn't really know why she was so interested in
how much money her uncle and mother had inherited.  Had someone asked her
what she'd buy if she had more money she'd have been hard pressed to come
up with more than a few new outfits and perhaps her own stereo system.  She
was still too young to think about cars and college and things like that.
Her needs were pretty well met already.  But still, she wondered, and her
stubborn nature made her pursue the answer.

   Finally, when the boxes lay empty and grease stained, and they all felt
full enough that all they wanted to do was sit and rest, Robert leaned back
and sighed.

   "Now, what do you want to know?"

   "How much money do we have?" Debbie promptly asked.

   Ramona sighed.

   "That money, the money that is in the bank, came from the death of my
parents.  They were murdered for that money.  And we don't need it.  We
have everything we need already.  I had thought a little about using some
of it to send you two to college, but I have never wanted that money.  It
is blood money."

   Debbie started to say something but her mother held up her hand.

   "And, if you suddenly have a lot of money, it changes things.  People
treat you differently.  They want some of your money.  There are some who
want all of your money.  They don't care about you ...  just the money. 
Even your friends will act differently toward you.  They say things like
"Well you have more than you need, so give me some." And even if it is your
money, to do with what you wish, if you do not give them some they feel
like you have taken something from them.  Money is not a bad thing, but the
lust for money has caused more pain than all the wars in history.  I don't
want you two to have to face that pain."

   Debbie thought about that for a minute.  "OK" she said finally.  "So ...
if we said we didn't WANT any of that money ...  would you tell us how much
there is?"

   Robert laughed, a long, loud belly laugh.  Debbie frowned at him, but he
held up his hand.

   "I'm sorry." he said.  "It's just that it is very hard to 'not want'
money when you know it is there.  But there are ways.  Let me ask you this.
Are you thirsty?"

   Debbie looked confused.  "Thirsty?"

   "Yes" said her uncle.  "Are you thirsty for a drink of water right now?"

   "No." said Debbie, still confused.

   "But you will BE thirsty some time in the future, yes?"

   "Well of course." said Debbie.  "But what does that have to do with
anything?"

   "Money is like that." said Robert.  "At some point you become very
thirsty.  If water is scarce, then thirst is a horrible thing.  But if you
can just turn on the tap any time you wish then water means very little,
yes?"

   "It still means a lot if you're really thirsty." said Robby.

   "True" said Robert.  "But, most of the time, you don't think about the
water in the faucet, yes?  Only when you are thirsty."

   Both kids nodded.

   "Then, you must look at your money like it is water.  When you have
great thirst, it is good to have.  But one must not think of it all the
time and give it inflated importance.  Do you understand this?"

   Again both kids nodded.  Debbie shook her head then.  "But money ISN'T
water.  There's water everywhere.  There's so much water that you couldn't
drink it all.  That's why you don't think about it all the time."

   "And this money that you are so interested in." said Robert.  "What if
there were more of it than you could ever spend?  Would you then lose some
of your interest in it?"

   Debbie blinked.  "That would have to be a LOT of money." she said.

   "How much is a lot?" asked her uncle.  "Hundreds?  Thousands? 
Millions?"

   Debbie looked uncomfortable.  "I don't know.  Millions I guess."

   "And how MANY millions?" he pressed.  "Just millions?  Tens of millions?
Hundreds of millions?"

   Debbie looked shocked.  "I think a million or two would be more than
anybody could spend." she said.  "I mean unless they bought stupid
expensive things that they don't really need."

   "Then, my beautiful niece, let me assure you that your mother has more
money than you, and your brother, and any additional brothers and sisters
that may come along could ever spend.  Just think of it as if it were
water."

   The first thing Debbie thought of was what her uncle had said in the
woods ...  that her mother had more money than he did, because he had spent
some of his and she had never touched hers.  She looked at her Uncle.

   "And you?" she asked again.

   "The same." he said softly.  "More than all of us could ever spend."

   Debbie licked her lips and looked around.

   "More than four million?" she asked.

   "More than forty million." said her uncle.

   Debbie's mouth hung open.  "How?" she gasped.

   Robert waved his hand.  "The banks.  They have kept our money, and used
it and made money with it, paying us interest.  The interest was added to
what our parents left us and then they paid us interest on the interest. 
It is the way of banks.  And it has been some thirty years they have done
this."

   Debbie couldn't breathe.  "We're millionaires?" she squeaked.

   "Many times over, my dear." said Robert.

   "Wow." said a stunned Robby.

   Ramona had to speak.  "But we don't NEED millions to live.  I LIKE our
life the way it is now." She darted a look at her brother.  "And now that
Robert is back in my life I LOVE our life.  We MUSTN'T let money change
things!  It could ruin everything!"

   "One can drown in very little water." said Robert, nodding.

   "Bobby," said Ramona.  "I thought you couldn't receive your trust unless
you graduated from college."

   He nodded.  "When I was in East Africa there was a need for both
expertise and money in the tribes I was working with.  They were just
establishing the Royal College in Nairobi, and I managed to get a degree in
engineering through them.  Officially it was awarded by the University of
London, but it satisfied the prerequisites for obtaining access to my
trust. It made a huge difference in the good I was able to do in the
following years."

   His bland statement led to questions from both teens about where he'd
been, and what he'd done, and that led to questions about the people he'd
met and what they'd been like.

   Ramona sat and listened to her brother with a warm feeling.  Just
looking at him and hearing his voice made her feel good.  The mantle clock
chimed and she listened with half an ear until it reached ten melodious
clangs.

   "It's late" she announced suddenly, interrupting her brother's account
of working with the Masai.  He was talking about Kali, a Swahili word for
the hot, spicy food he loved.

   "We don't have anything to do tomorrow." objected Debbie.  She and Robby
both were completely enthralled by the stories their uncle had been telling
them.

   "Ah, hurul-ayni," he said to Debbie.  "but I have much to do on the
morrow, and need my rest." said their uncle.

   "What does that mean?" asked Debbie, smiling.

   "It is Swahili for 'beautiful maiden'" he said, bowing to her.

   Debbie blushed, but grinned hugely too.  Perhaps this strange man wasn't
so bad after all.

   "OK" said Debbie, her face slightly flushed.  "But you have to promise
to tell us more stories later."

   "You are, of course, welcome in my home ..." he looked at Ramona "OUR
home, as far as I am concerned, any time.  Any time at all." Again he bowed
to the children.  He saw their look of amusement and added, "It is a habit
I acquired in foreign lands.  It soothes people.  They are more willing to
hear you when you bow."

   "So" said Debbie cheekily, "You're trying to sooth us?"

   "You have made your dislike for me clear." said Robert.

   "Well ...  yes." admitted Debbie.  "But that was before we knew who you
really were.  I guess you're not so bad." she finished, unable to meet the
eyes of the man she'd screamed her hate at.

   "You have taken a huge weight from my shoulders." he said.  "Perhaps
some day I'll even be worth a hug."

   The first thing Debbie thought of when he said the word "hug" was the
hugs she'd seen her naked mother giving him, while he made passionate love
to her.  Debbie felt a rush of emotion that she wasn't able to categorize
as being either good or bad.

   "Yeah ...  well, some day." she said carefully.

   "Until then." he said, turning.

   Something startling occured to Debbie suddenly and she turned to her
mother.  "Mom?  Robert ...  Robby?  Is Robby named after ...  him?"

   Ramona nodded, her eyes turning to her brother, who finally looked
startled.

   "It was the only way I could have him near me at the time." she said. 
"Now, come.  I'll take you home Bobby." said Ramona.  "So you don't have to
walk."

   Robby barked a laugh, and when the adults looked at him he blushed. 
"Sorry" he said.  "I was thinking of ...  never mind." he finished, also
unable to meet his mother's and uncle's eyes.  He had been thinking that
every time his mother went to the manor she ended up naked with a stiff
prick buried in her.

   Robert smiled.  "Perhaps you want to come with us?" he offered in a
gracious voice.  "You can watch without having to hide behind the walls if
that is what you were thinking."

   "BOBBY!" squealed Ramona.  She reached out and slapped his arm.

   Robby was so unnerved by his uncle's bland invitation to watch them have
sex that he was momentarily lost for words.  Finally he blurted out "Maybe
later." Then he turned even redder and lay his head on the table with a
moan.

   Robert laughed.  "Yes, I imagine you would like to be alone too, eh?" he
said with a chuckle.

   Ramona turned around and pointed at her children.  "You two don't do
ANYTHING until I get home.  We have some things to talk about!"

   Both kids just nodded, looking pale all of a sudden.

   Ramona pushed her brother toward the door, still looking at her
children.

   "And I'll be RIGHT back!" she said firmly.  She then berated her brother
as they went through the door, telling him he was shameless and crude and
...  The conversation, if it could be called that, was cut off by the door
as it closed.

   Chapter Eleven

   Debbie looked at Robby.  "What do you think she's going to do?"

   "I don't know.  She said she'd be right back.  Probably nothing." he
said.

   "I don't' mean with HIM." said Debbie, rolling her eyes.  "I meant about
US!"

   Robby looked at her miserably.  "I don't know that either.  Sounds like
she doesn't like the idea of us doing ...  things."

   "That's not fair." said Debbie, her stubbornness coming out in her
voice. "THEY do things."

   "Deb, they do a whole lot more than WE do." said her brother.

   "Yeah, but not THAT much more." she said, still wanting to argue.

   "Deb, I never thought of actually ...  DOING what they do." he said.  "I
mean I thought about it, but not like I was really going to try to get you
to do that." he said.  "Did YOU think about doing that?  With me?"

   Debbie felt another rush of emotion.  "Not really." she said.  "I like
what we do just fine.  I mean I've wondered what it might feel like.  You
know?  But seeing them ...  and knowing who they are ...  I don't know how
I feel any more."

   "Well you better figure out how you feel, 'cause Mom said she wasn't
going to be long." he said.

   As if to punctuate his sentence they heard a car door slam outside. 
They waited and then tensed as their mother came through the door.  She
did, in fact, look unhappy.

   "Sorry Mom." said Robby automatically.

   "What, exactly, are you sorry for Robby?" asked Ramona.  She was in full
parent mode and wanted her children to articulate their errors in a way
that would convince her that their breach of behavioral rules would not be
repeated.  It was something she'd done with them for years.

   "I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with Uncle Robert." he said
sincerely.

   "What?" asked Ramona, surprised by his statement.

   "Well we kind of ruined your evening with him." said Robby.  "And we're
sorry.  Aren't we?" he hinted to his sister, who was also looking at him
strangely.

   "I guess so." she said honestly.

   The overwhelming nature of everything that had happened settled on
Ramona like thickly falling snow.  She had gone from being inflamed with
passion for her brother's touch, to horrified and ashamed that her children
had seen it, followed by absolute joy that her children still loved her. 
Upon the heels of that was her anger that they had lied to her all these
years and her astonishment that they were having sex.  She knew how she was
supposed to feel about that, her own behavior not-withstanding - that was
different ...  wasn't it?  - and she had planned on laying down the law to
them when she came in the door.  Piled on top of that was the warm safe
feeling she had enjoyed for most of the evening as they talked, like a real
family, which was upset by her brother's completely tactless invitation for
her children to watch him ravish her.  It didn't help that he had begged
for forgiveness, claiming that he was kidding ...  trying to shock the
children further out of the opinion they had formed already about him.

   It was all too much to think about ...  to deal with.  She felt a need
to just get away from it all, but she knew she couldn't.  It left her
feeling a little shell shocked.  She sat down heavily on the couch and
stared at her children.

   "Mom?" asked her daughter.  "Are you OK?"

   "No." said Ramona.  "I don't think I am.  This is all so confusing."

   Debbie, unfettered by all but her own concerns about how this was going
to affect herself and her brother, spoke with typical teenaged innocence.

   "What's to be confused about?" she asked.  "Uncle Robert came back, and
you're glad.  It's true that you have bad memories about the manor, but
he's fixing it up really nice and everything, and we can go visit him
whenever we want to.  I mean what's changed all that much?"

   Ramona gave a strangled sound that was half laugh and have groan.

   "How I wish it were all that simple." she said.

   "Isn't it?" asked Debbie.

   "Well, let's see." said Ramona.  She ticked things off on her fingers.
"The house I hoped would fall down into a pile of rubble is being rebuilt
so it will NEVER fall down.  My brother, against whom I have NO defenses
whatsoever, is bound and determined to father a child on me!  Meanwhile my
children are busy trying to make babies of their own ...  together!  People
in town are going to just go NUTS when they find out that the meek little
woman at the bank is, in actuality, Elizabeth Nettleton, the rich heiress
of the Nettleton fortune.  I'll probably be fired.  My children are much
too interested in money that I have, but don't want.  Have I missed
anything?  Isn't there something else I've forgotten that can ruin our
lives?"

   Debbie looked startled as she realized that there were a lot of things
she hadn't thought about.

   Robby, perhaps because he was male, but not necessarily so, took a more
pragmatic view of things.  He too, ticked things off on his fingers.

   "First of all, you don't ever have to go in the house next door again at
all if you don't want to.  Second, there are lots of ways to keep from
having babies.  If you don't want to have Uncle Robert's baby then just
tell him so.  Third, nobody in town has to know who you are now any more
than they did last week.  Everybody will know about Uncle Robert, but
unless the two of you announce who you are, everybody in town will still
thin you're the ...  what did you call it? ...  nice little woman at the
bank?  And you have the wrong idea about Debbie and me.  We fool around a
little bit, because we love each other, but we're not trying to make
babies. We haven't done that at all.  And they can't fire you just because
you're Elizabeth Nettleton.  It's not against the law to be Elizabeth
Nettleton.  And if the money is that horrible, then I agree with you that
we don't need it.  Give it away or something.  I don't care."

   He crossed his arms over his chest.

   Debbie had been nodding her head ...  until he got to the part about
giving away all the money.  She wanted to complain about that, but she
really felt her mother's distress, so she bit her lip.  She could suggest
some alternatives to that later.

   Of it all, Ramona had zeroed in the most on his statement that he and
Debbie "hadn't done that".

   "You two haven't had sex?" she asked, tentatively.

   Debbie thought to reassure her mother.  "Well, we have sex, but not like
you and Uncle Robert."

   Ramona didn't know what that meant.  "Let's just talk about that." she
said, glad to have picked one topic that could be explored, and which might
be less unsettling than she had previously thought.

   So they did, disregarding the fact that it was getting later and later.
Ramona wasn't tired, and she was fascinated by what she was hearing from
her children.  It sounded to her like a carbon copy of what she and Robert
had done when they were young ...  younger even than these two.

   For their part, as the children realized she wasn't going to fly off in
a rage every time they added something to their story, they felt much more
comfortable telling it.  They were amazed at how they got a sense of
freedom out of giving up the secrets they had been so careful to keep. 
They had to include the things they had done in the house too ...  the
dressing up ...  the fantasies they had acted out ...  basically a
description of the childhood in the manor that Ramona had been robbed of.

   When they were finished, Ramona sighed.  She had heard a love story. 
That much was plain.  What her children had done with each other was
clearly based on their love for each other.  She understood that.  That
understanding was the core of her own personality, based on the same kind
of love she had for Robert.  She found herself unable to judge their
actions harshly ...  and she knew it.

   She looked at her watch and groaned.  "It's very late." she said. 
"Unlike you two, who are carefree and able to sleep in, I have to get up
and go to work.  Off to bed."

   Debbie looked at her mother slyly.  "If you used your money you wouldn't
have to work any more at all." she said.  "You could sleep in too, if you
wanted to."

   Ramona tried to glare at her daughter, but it just seemed to take too
much energy.  "I LIKE my job." she said shortly.

   "We've seen how much you like your job." said Debbie innocently. 
"Several times.  Like Robby said, sorry your job got messed up tonight."
Her voice was so innocent that Ramona had to laugh.

   "Go on.  Off to bed.  SEPARATE beds, my darlings." she said.

   "We've never slept in the same bed." said Robby, trying to sound
injured.

   "Thank goodness for small miracles." said Ramona under her breath.

   No one got to sleep easily in the Franklin household that night.  Ramona
thought about everything she'd heard her children telling her, and it
brought out her love and affection for her brother, who was a few hundred
yards away ...  quite possibly naked ...  quite possibly wasting perfectly
good seed.  That led her to think about what she'd said about him fathering
a child on her, and she examined that from several different angles, trying
to decide exactly how she felt about it while his prick WASN'T buried in
her.  She knew how she felt about it then.

   Debbie lay in her bed, idly flicking her clitoris, also thinking about
all that had happened.  Even though her mother had specified separate beds,
there had been no real heat in that order.  Debbie clung to the hope that
her mother could understand how she felt about Robby, not knowing her
mother knew even better than she did herself.  Debbie thought about what
her mother had thought Debbie and Robby had been doing.  She looked at that
scenario from several different points of view, wondering again, what that
might be like.

   Robby also lay in his bed.  The thing that kept coming back to his mind
was his hand on his mother's naked shoulder, telling her that he loved her.
He felt a distinctly un-son-like feeling in is groin for his mother ... 
the same kind of thing he felt for his sister when they played.  He
examined that from several angles, trying to figure out whether it was
good, bad, or indifferent.  He found his answer when he suddenly realized
his hand was firmly wrapped around his stiff cock, and that he was stroking
it.

   Next door, in the Nettleton mansion, Robert Nettleton lay in his bed
too, also thinking about what had happened that evening.  Neither his niece
or nephew had screamed hate at him.  Their love for each other, something
he too understood completely, was now out in the open.  He knew it could
not be quashed, no matter what his more conservative sister thought.  He
wasn't too upset about how Rami had berated him as a pervert for offering
to let the children watch him love their mother.  He had noticed that the
points of her nipples had pressed firmly through her blouse.  She might not
know it, but that "perversion" had appealed to something in her.  "Methinks
thou dost protest too much." he said out loud to his sister.  Then he
thought about how much turmoil he had caused in his lovely sister's life,
and examined that from several directions, trying to see if he had covered
everything in his plan.  He smiled.

   He had big plans for his sister.  She didn't know them all.  It would
take time, but he was sure he could bring his plan to fruition.  Perhaps,
at last, the Nettleton curse could be broken.  Thinking about his plan made
him stiff, and he considered masturbating.  Instead he rolled over and
tried to find sleep.  He would not waste his seed.

   The next morning Debbie had to pull her mother out of bed, lecturing her
on how she had to get up ...  had to go to work ...  had to be an adult. 
Ramona acted surprisingly like a teenage girl, snarling at the disruption
of her sleep, moaning that she didn't want to get up.  She was horny too,
and that made her temper unruly.  Debbie ignored her, much as a good mother
would ignore the unthinking barbs that a daughter often throws at the
mother making her do something she doesn't want to do.  It was a remarkable
reversal of roles.

   Once she had pushed her mother out the door, kissing her and telling her
she loved her, Debbie turned to her brother's room.

   Robby was still asleep, though how he could have slept through the
ranting and railing of his mother she could not guess.  With economy of
movement Debbie stripped off her sleepwear and ran her hand under the
covers to find how her brother was clothed.

   Good.  He had slept naked.  She crawled into the bed, shivering at how
warm it was.  She cuddled up to her brother and closed her eyes, smelling
his hair and the other scents that were ...  Robby.  Even that didn't wake
him.  With her arm draped over him, her hand only inches from his penis,
she drifted into that place between sleep and wakefulness.

   At work Ramona drank a cup of coffee and felt a little better.  She
really did love her job.  She got along well with everyone at the bank. 
She had been more comfortable as an invisible teller, but even now the
sheen of being involved with the Nettleton account had dimmed a little and
people were back to business as usual.

   There was a new pile of bills and invoices from contractors in her in
box.  She tackled them, using the nervous energy she had created by
resisting her daughter.  On one bill she noticed something familiar.  She
went into her files and pulled out another invoice.  They were the same,
though dated differently.  Hoskins dry wall was trying to charge twice for
the same work.  It was a clumsy attempt at larceny.  Only the dates had
been changed.  Even Robert's signature on the approval line was exactly the
same.  She frowned, her nervous energy being channeled into the heat of
anger.

   Renee Wright had known Ramona Franklin for more than six years.  She was
shocked as she walked by Ramona's new desk.  Ramona's face was red and she
was shouting into the phone.  "And if you try this again I'll report you to
the police!" snarled Ramona, slamming the phone down in the cradle.  Renee
looked at her friend like they'd never met.

   "What was that all about?" she asked, leaning on the short partition in
front of the desk.

   "Hoskins drywall is trying to rip off my client!" said Ramona, reaching
for her coffee cup, only to find it empty.  She stood up to go get more.

   "Well you go get 'em girl." said Renee.  "We can't have our favorite
client getting ripped off." She looked around like she was checking to see
who could hear them.  "Have you met him yet?" she asked.

   "What?" said Ramona, distracted by her urge for caffeine.  "Who?"

   "Robert Nettleton, of course." said Renee.  "I hear he's young and
single.  I don't know if he's good looking or not, but who cares with all
that money he has?"

   Ramona's radar lit up like a set of holiday lights.  "I've talked to
him." she said carefully.  "He's pig headed." she added.  She was horny and
she blamed it on Robert Nettleton.

   "I could get used to pig headed, if it came with fifty million dollars."
Renee winked.

   "You're married!" said Ramona.

   "Too true." said Renee.  "And I love Ted, but he doesn't have fifty
million dollars."

   Ramona was shocked.  She hadn't thought about the fact that her brother
would be considered "fair game" by conniving females in town.  Even beyond
town.  It made her stomach hurt.

   "You'd leave Ted?  Just for the money?" gasped Ramona.

   Renee smiled brilliantly.  "No.  I really do love Ted.  But a girl can
dream ...  can't she?  What about you?  You've got the inside track here.
Has he made any moves on you?" she whispered the last question.

   Ramona felt herself blushing and tried in vain to stop it.  "Of course
not!" she said.  Her blush continued because of the lie.

   Renee laughed.  "Well then, you'd better loosen up a little girl.  He's
the most eligible bachelor in the state - maybe in the five state region
and you're a good looking girl when you want to be.  How about I take you
shopping and see if we can come up with an outfit you can go on safari in?"
She grinned from ear to ear.

   The last thing Ramona thought she needed was a bunch of people poking
into who Robert Nettleton was "seeing".  No, now that she thought about it,
the last thing she needed was a bunch of women trying to get her to
introduce them to the most eligible bachelor in the five state region.  No,
now that she thought about it even more, the last thing she needed was to
"get involved" with Robert Nettleton, and then for people to find out who
she was.

   "Thanks." she said, trying to defuse the situation.  "But I'm happy with
who I am.  All that money comes with problems attached to it.  You can be
sure of that." she said firmly.  "And I'm not about to become a dating
service for that pig-headed man either, so spread that around.  If anybody
wants to meet him they can go to his drafty old house and knock on the
door, just like anybody else."

   "What does he look like?" asked Renee, not at all put off by Ramona's
tirade.

   "I don't know." lied Ramona.  "I've only seen him once and that was just
for a handshake in Peterson's office.  I've talked to him on the phone a
couple of times.  All the face-to-face stuff is with Mister Smith."

   Renee shuddered visibly.  "That spooky old man?" she said.  "He gives me
the willies."

   "Oh, he's nice enough, really.  A little strange, but a nice man all
things considered." said Ramona.  "He's only going to be around for another
few weeks."

   "Well, you listen to me Ramona." said Renee.  "Pig-headed or not,
there's going to be a stampede by a whole bunch of women trying to get
their claws into Mister Robert Nettleton.  You think about what I said. 
You're a sweet woman Ramona, and you deserve some happiness.  And you DO
have the inside track.  don't throw away first crack at something that
could be a nice thing." Renee blew an air kiss and wandered off toward her
own desk.

   Ramona sat and thought about what had just happened.  It was true. 
Women would flock to try to net a catch like Robert.  It made her stomach
roil to think about any other woman in Robert's arms.

   She stood up, grabbed her briefcase viciously, and stalked out of the
bank toward her car.

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

   Robert was talking to an interior decorator about period wall paper and
fabric choices when he saw Ramona's car speeding up the driveway.  It was
still gravel, and small stones spun from under her tires as the car swerved
around a gradual corner.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to see she was
upset about something.  He told the designer that expense was not an issue,
and that he wanted authentic paper and cloth, and then excused himself to
walk toward the car as it slid to a stop, scraping across the last five
feet of gravel.

   He opened the door of the car, noting that a plumber was standing and
watching not far away.

   "Mrs.  Franklin!" he said loudly.  "How good to see you again.  Please,
come inside and we can conduct whatever business seems to be so important
that you spread my gravel all over the yard."

   It was the kind of thing a foreman for a rich prick would say to an
underling.  The plumber turned around to get something out of his truck. 
He felt sorry for the poor woman in the car.

   Ramona's funk was penetrated by the formal note in her brother's voice,
and she got out of the car without saying anything.  She let him lead her
into the house, and up the stairs, into the bedroom.  When he closed the
door she flung herself into his arms, crying.

   "Rami, my sweet, what's wrong?" he asked, stroking her back.  There was
nothing sexual in his touch; only the care and loving concern he felt for
her.

   "They're all going to be after you." she sobbed.  "All those grasping
women!"

   Robert soothed her and took her to the love seat.  He sat down beside
her.  '

   "What are you talking about my darling?" he asked solicitously.  "What
grasping women?"

   "You're the most eligible bachelor in five states!" cried Ramona.  She
broke into sobs again and leaned against Robert.

   Slowly he worked out of her what had happened.  She told him what Renee
had said, and of her fears that some other woman would worm her way into
his life, shutting her out.

   Robert held her until she calmed, her crying finally fading to sniffles.
There was a box of tissues on an end table and he offered her one.

   "Love of my life." he started.  She turned her tear-filled eyes to his.
"Did you really think there could be any other woman for me than you?  I am
laid low that you would even THINK that some ...  grasping woman ...  could
ever be welcome here."

   "But it's true!" moaned Ramona.  "They'll hound you.  They won't leave
you alone.  You're rich!  Oh, how I HATE that money!" She started to cry
again.

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

   Next door, at the Franklin household, the 'man' of the house smiled as
his mind recognized that he was rising from slumber to wakefulness.  That
was a nice place.  Good things happened in that place just before you
actually woke up.  Like now, for instance.  He could feel a warm naked body
cuddled up to his own.  It felt so nice he didn't want to wake up at all.
But he had to.  His bladder was killing him.  He opened his eyes, blinking
at the sunlight coming through the windows.  He must have slept late.  Why
could he still feel warm naked body against him?

   He came awake quickly then, feeling what had to be his sister's arm
draped over him.  He could hear her slow breathing behind him ...  feel her
warm breath on his neck.  Now he could feel her breasts pressing into his
back, and her legs against his.  He lifted his head and looked at his alarm
clock.  Ten O'clock!  He NEVER slept that late.  Then again, it had been a
late night.  His bladder reminded him that, regardless of how nice this
was, he had to get up.  He rolled the opposite way he would usually get out
of bed, sliding under Debbie's arm, which dropped to the bed softly.

   "Mmmmmm" she complained, her own eyes opening and her tousled head
lifting a little.  "Why did you get up?" she complained.

   "Gotta go." he said, his piss erection standing out straight and strong.

   "Well hurry up." she grumbled.  "You let the warm all out."

   Robby did hurry, draining his bladder and then running on his tip toes
back to his bedroom and the naked girl waiting in his bed.

   "I liked it better the other way." she commented, peeking out from under
the sheet at his now flaccid penis.

   "Well, I'm sure you can do something about that if you want to." he
said, climbing back under the sheet and pressing his front to hers.

   They spent a while just kissing each other, their tongues dueling like
flickering swords, and that caused them to move their bodies against each
other, pushing, sliding and thrusting.  Debbie purred as she felt her
brother's prick get long and hard again, poking into her mound.

   She broke the kiss and reached between them to wrap her hand around his
maleness.

   "Mom thought we were ...  fucking." she said, feeling a thrill at using
a naughty word.  "Have you ever wanted to ...  fuck me?" she whispered.

   "I never really thought about that." said Robby into her mouth, kissing
the corner of her mouth.  "Until lately."

   "I like what we do." she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, like
he had kissed hers.  "And if we ...  fucked ...  I might get pregnant."

   "I know." he said, thrusting into her hand.  "I'm happy with what we
do." He thrust into her hand again.  "It might feel good though."

   "I love it when I feel all your warm stuff shooting on me." she sighed,
moving his prick so it dug between her pussy lips and pressed against her
clit.

   "Maybe if I went into you just a little bit?" he asked.

   "I don't know." she said, breathing faster as she rubbed herself off
with the tip of his prick.  "It might hurt."

   "I don't want to hurt you." he whispered, thrusting again.  His prick
poked hard between her labia and stretched her opening before her tightness
stopped him.  she felt the stretching, but not as pain so much as the kind
of discomfort you have when you want to take a bite of something and your
mouth won't open wide enough to get the kind of bite you want.  She lifted
her top leg, trying to open herself up more, to see if that made the
stretching sensation go away.

   "Suck my nipples" she commanded.

   Robby tried to duck his head to get a nipple, without making her let go
of him.  It didn't work, so he pushed her on her back and crawled between
her legs, hovering over her as she automatically drew her knees up toward
her chest to let him put his prick back in contact with her pussy.  She had
had to let go of him as he moved, and her hand found him again, grabbing
him firmly and pulling his prick to her entrance.

   In this position Robby could hunch and suck at her nipples while she
again dug the head of his prick between her pussy lips and used that to
massage her clit.  Every so often she swabbed the tip down, into her
vaginal opening, because that felt good too.  It was just natural that,
since she was pulling on him to get pressure on her clit, he helped by
pushing.  And, it was just natural that when she moved it to her pussy
hole, he pushed then too, pressing against her maiden opening, as if
knocking insistently at a door.

   Debbie's hymen was the worse for wear, because her fingers had plumbed
her depths on many occasions.  It had suffered even more when Robby's thick
finger dug into her.  She had felt twinges of pain in the past, but they
hadn't lasted, so she ignored them, just moving her fingers away from that
side of her pussy where the twinges happened.  Had her maidenhead been in
less abused condition, it might have put up more resistance to Robby's
prodding prick head.

   But it wasn't in very good condition at all.

   And, when Robby pushed a little more forcefully one time, and the head
of his dick slipped through her tight sphincter, it happened so quickly
that neither teen was prepared for it.

   Suddenly ...  QUITE suddenly ...  The head of Robby's prick was
surrounded by tight, hot, slippery pussy flesh, and Debbie's pussy lips
complained as they were stretched farther than they ever had been before.
That little place that gave her twinges occasionally gave a yelp of
distress as what was left of her cherry was shredded and the tatters pushed
out of the way.  That his prick didn't go deeper was only because, as Robby
had pushed in the past, he pushed only so hard ...  only hard enough to
keep firm contact with his sister's pussy lips and mound.

   "OH!  Owww" moaned Debbie, as she was penetrated for the first time in
her life by anything bigger than a finger.

   Robby froze, hearing the distress in her voice.  He also understood
something new had happened, and had a pretty good idea of what that was. 
He left his knob securely locked in her, as her pussy lips closed tightly
just below the neck under that head.

   "You OK?" he asked, breathlessly.

   "It stings a little." she said, her voice not quite whining.  "It's
stretching me."

   "You want me to take it out?" he asked.  He gave a tentative pull, just
enough to feel that he was firmly stuck in her, and that if he pulled out
it would stretch her even more ...  or again, as the case was.

   "No." she said.  "Not yet.  It doesn't feel so bad now.  I think I'm
stretching or something."

   Robby was in a quandary.  He knew enough about his penis that he knew it
was bigger around in both directions from where it was so firmly gripped.
It didn't matter if he went further in, or pulled back.  The results would
be the same.  It would hurt her.

   "Maybe I'd better take it out." he panted.  It felt wonderful right
where it was, but he didn't want to cause his sister pain.

   "No, it's not so bad now.  Just don't move for a minute, OK?" She was
beginning to pant too.

   "I have to do something." he said.  "My back is starting to hurt."

   "Suck my nipples some more." she said.  She wanted to move her hips, but
was afraid to.  This was a whole new feeling.  The top of his shaft, right
behind the head, was in contact with her button, and she just knew that if
she thrust upward that contact would increase.  She wanted that contact to
increase, but was also afraid the pain would come back.

   Her mistake was that, whenever he sucked her nipples, her body did what
it wanted to.  She had never thought about the fact that as he sucked, her
hips moved.  And this time, when he sucked, and her hips moved, it achieved
what she'd wanted to feel.  Her pussy climbed the shaft of his penis about
two inches and she was stretched again.

   There were competing feelings.  Her clit shouted "YES!" while her poor
stretched pussy lips wailed "Noooooo" The slight tear that was all that was
left of her hymen squealed and pumped a few drops of bright red blood out
of that tear as the bottom of his shaft scraped along there, spreading that
blood deeper into her channel.  Her nipple, which was being sucked into her
brother's mouth and bitten gently, added it's scream of "OH FUCK YES!" to
the mix, and that was what overpowered the complaining parts.

   Roby felt more of his prick enveloped by wet heat, but by then it was
too late to do anything about it.  He let her nipple pop out of his mouth
and looked at her face.  Her mouth was stretched into a grimace, her eyes
tightly closed.  She looked like she was in pain.  He automatically started
to pull back, pushing with his arms.  He did it so quickly that it made a
sucking popping sound as his prick was jerked out of her pussy.

   Her eyes snapped open and her grimace went to a round shape.

   "Nooooo don't take it out." she complained.

   But it was too late.  It was already out.  They both looked down to see
his hard cock suspended over her pussy.  There was a sheen of moisture that
went a third of the way up the shaft.  It glistened like a coat of paint on
his cock, with just the faintest tinge of pink to it.

   "It was hurting you." he said, pushing up to sit on his calves and give
his back muscles some relief.  The sheet slid off his shoulders and fell on
his heels.  His sister's naked body lay spread eagle before him.

   "It's COLD!" she said, reaching for him.  "Come back." she sat up and
grasped his shoulders, pulling at him.  "And it felt good too."

   Robby lay down beside her, pulling her on her side, to cover them with
the sheet again and hug her.  He kissed her lips.

   "I don't want to hurt you." he said as she snuggled against him, trying
to put as much of her skin against his warmth as possible.

   "I told you it felt good too." she said.  "It was starting to feel even
better.  Put it back in." she demanded.

   "We can't." said Robby.  "I told you.  You could get pregnant."

   "You can take it out when you squirt." she countered.  Her hips were
pushing against his penis, which was still hard.

   "You really want me to?" he asked, unable to believe that she wanted
something that hurt.

   "Put it back in." she repeated.

   It was, in one sense, mere exploration, just as they had done before. 
But feeling that penis in her vagina had awakened something in Debbie that
had been peacefully asleep before now.  She had known, on an intellectual
level, what intercourse was, but had never really thought to try it.  It
was a little like seeing a food one had never tried, and thinking that it
might be good ...  that it could be good ...  but never actually feeling
like you wanted to put it in your mouth.

   All that had changed as she felt the pain of, in a purely sexual sense,
becoming a woman.  Now the thing that had awakened deep in her brain had
tasted that strange food and the sensations were both bitter and sweet.  As
if it had taste buds, her pussy wanted another sampling of that new
delicacy ...  wanted a mouth full of that strange taste ...  so she could
experience it to the fullest.

   Therefore, when she pulled her brother back on top of her, and he
tentatively pushed the crown of his iron hard penis between her pussy lips,
she unthinkingly thrust up at him.

   To take the food analogy just a bit further ...  she bit off a little
more than she could comfortably chew.

   Robby felt her pushing up at him and his natural response was to push
back.  They'd been doing that for a long time - pushing their loins at each
other - but this time his prick, already lubricated with her slick juices,
pushed into her like a hand fitting into a too-tight glove.  The stretching
sensation started again at her pussy's mouth, as their lips went suddenly
white and thin as they tried to expand around not only the head, but the
shaft that followed.  Then her tight pussy clenched as the sensitive
tissues were forced apart.

   Her immediate response was to take in a big breath to shout that it hurt
and, at the same time, to drop her bottom back to the bed in an attempt to
get away from the thing that was stretching her so cruelly.

   Ironically, it was her body's attempt to get away from the skewering
spear that dropped her clit into full contact with the top of his shaft as
it went deep in her.  By then there were only two or three inches of shaft
left outside her body to scrape along her super-sensitive bud, but those
two or three inches made all the difference in the world.  The fact that
Robby's brain insisted on continuing to push once he was fully seated in
her sex also caused his pubic bone to smash her clit as if it were trying
to drive the little organ back into its protective sheath.

   Her clitoris wasn't about to surrender, however.  It fought back by
engorging even more, becoming rubbery-hard as it was over stimulated by
pressure.  It sent screaming signals along neural pathways, calling for
relief.

   The result was, that by the time her complaint of pain reached her
mouth, with its jaws clamped firmly closed in a wide grimace, it turned
from an expression of pain to a groan of satisfaction as her body got
exactly what it had asked for ...  a pussy just stuffed to overflowing with
a nice, long, hard male organ and the beginnings of a physical response
called an orgasm rushing toward her like an ambulance hurrying to give aid.

   Robby, meanwhile, was caught on the horns of another dilemma.  As his
penis was surrounded by hot pussy flesh that hugged him like a sexual
bear-hug, he knew immediately that if he moved, even an inch, cum would
boil out of the tip of his prick like steaming water gushed from Old
Faithful at Yellowstone National Park.  It was partly that feeling that
caused him to keep pushing, to stay as fully seated in his sister as it was
possible for him to be.  He felt panic, joy and ecstasy all at the same
time.  He was quite literally overwhelmed with sensations and feelings.

   Debbie, as her clit fought for its life, felt something else, deeper
inside her.  It was another pain as the tip of her brother's prick, which
had defeated her outer portal, found another doorway and tried to force its
way through that one as well.  Her virgin cervix refused to open, at least
open enough to allow that invading monster to push into the womb those
gates guarded, and that caused pain too.  This pain was of a deeper type,
not sharp and stinging, but a dull ache that was something like the ache in
muscles that is eased by a good, long, body-bending stretch.

   Her pussy muscles tried to adjust and do that stretching.  What happened
would probably have been called a spasm by a Doctor, as her abused muscles
moved and shifted erratically, in almost a rippling motion.  Her screaming
clitty's message flashed along a nervous system that was overloaded with
sensations.  Her body's response to this overload of stimulation was to act
a little bit like a circuit breaker.  Except, in this case, when the switch
kicked to "standby", it energized another circuit that her orgasm flowed
along at something close to light speed.  Most of her body went rigid,
muscles locked temporarily in that "stand by" mode, as the spasms took all
the body's resources and centered them on her pussy.

   Robby too was dealing with an overload as Debbie's twitching cervical
lips tried to close, then open, then close again, almost massaging the
sensitive tip of his penis.  With a helpless groan, Robby's body did
exactly what it was designed to do.  Automatic reflexes kicked in and his
body expelled the fluid that would sooth the electric shocks that were
torturing his penis.  Creamy fluid filled the tiny tube that was the
primary complainant in his body at the moment and, having no place else to
go once it had served that purpose, jetted out of the tip of his cock,
splashing all over Debbie's tight cervical mouth.  Then, not satisfied that
it had completely soothed his penis, his body served up four more helpings
of that warm cream, to ensure that the stimulation was dealt with.

   Debbie's cervix, told by some nervous communication involved with her
orgasm, finally relaxed, the lips loosening fractionally and dipping
outward to flow around the blunt thing trying to batter its way past them.
Three soothing warm jets of fluid then splattered into the soft dark cave
deep inside her body that was made to welcome that fluid.

   In the space of some twenty or thirty seconds, a million nervous
impulses did what they were designed to do and did it flawlessly.  And, in
the space of only four or five seconds, even more millions of healthy,
viable sperm cells were transported from one human being into another.

   A miracle of nature had taken place in the space of a few breaths, and
even fewer blinks of an eye.

   Debbie felt, on some level, the rush of wet warmth that flowed into her
body from her brother's penis.  She was instantly addicted to the feeling.
She was addicted before she had any conscious thought of what was really
happening, or the consequences of those actions.  On a purely metaphysical
plane of existence, she knew she had found the thing that made her the
happiest she had ever been thus far in her life.

   Robby's experience was a bit more tortured.  He knew exactly what was
happening before it actually happened.  He knew he was about to cum in his
sister, and that there was nothing in the world he could do about it.  He
knew that even if he jerked his prick out of her, he couldn't do it before
he spermed her pussy.  In his mind's eye he knew he was going to fill his
sister's belly with life and the electrons bouncing around in his brain
visualized his emission as tiny full-formed fetuses being injected into her
womb, where the thousands he saw would grow and burst from her body,
destroying her like some alien plague.

   Even as he felt the explosion of ecstasy that went along with his
orgasm, he felt the misery of having ruined his sister's life.  He berated
himself, admitting that he knew better than to let her bully him into doing
this thing.  At the same time he felt his body insist that he stay right
where he was until the last feeble clench in his groin expelled the last
few straggling sperm cells from his body into hers.

   Then, feeling completely miserable, he collapsed on top of her.

   They lay there gasping for breath for a few minutes.  Robby rehearsed in
his mind the various ways he could apologize to his sister, who would now
probably hate him for the rest of her life.  He felt her hands come to his
waist, and expected her to push as her angry outbursts began.

   Instead her hands stroked along his sides, and up onto his back, and
then down to his buttocks.

   "Oh thank you Robby" she sighed.  "Thank you so much."

   Robby was stuck speechless.

   Debbie squeezed him with her arms.  "I completely understand why Mommy
wants to do that now."

   Robby found the energy to push with his arms, so he could look at his
sister's face.  Perhaps the 'alien invasion' had altered her already.

   "I fucked you." he said.  It was hard to tell if that was a question or
statement.  The words sounded harsh in his own mind, but that was how he
characterized what had happened.

   She just looked up at him adoringly, her eyes big and liquid brown
suddenly.

   "I wasn't supposed to do that." he croaked.

   Debbie's hands left his sides, where they had come to rest.  She grasped
his head gently and pulled him down for a kiss.  When it was done she let
him go.

   "When do you think you'll be able to fuck me again?" she asked.  "You
didn't go nearly as long as Mommy and Uncle Robert go."

   Robby looked at her incredulously.  He tried to roll off of her, but she
gripped him and rolled with him until they were again lying side by side.

   It took half an hour, but they talked about what had happened, and how
each of them felt about it.  Robby learned that, not counting the dangerous
nature of the transfer of body fluids, he had done nothing but please his
sister.  She had already forgotten the pain and discomfort she had felt
initially.  She didn't care about the fact that he might have made her
pregnant.  She would care later, but she was still in the grip of the
chemicals a woman's body produces during an orgasm that are designed
specifically to encourage her to lie there afterward and let all that nice
sperm soak in completely before she gets up.

   In the end he insisted that, IF they did this again, they had to do it
only at times when she was unlikely to be fertile and that they had to try
to find some way to acquire some rubbers.  She, on the other hand, insisted
that she would be extremely unhappy if he tried to keep her from enjoying
this new thing they had found together, and that it WOULD happen again or
he'd be sorry.

   While it sounds like they argued, it wasn't really like that at all.  It
was more of a situation where each pleaded his or her case about what they
wanted the future to be like.  As with most teens, they couldn't see very
far into the future, and their plans were, for the most part, short term.
It was impossible, lying there in the afterglow of sex, even if it wasn't
'good sex' in a classical sense, not to give each other little loving
touches and kisses.

   Once they had said what they felt the need to say, they kissed some
more. It was comfortable lying there together.  Their speech got less and
less focused and, eventually, they drifted off to sleep in each other's
arms.

   That's how Ramona found them when she broke her routine and came home
for lunch for only the third or forth time since she'd taken her job at the
bank.

   Chapter Twelve

   Ramona had entered the house with a lot on her mind.  She'd been
thinking about what she and her children had talked about the night before.
She'd been thinking about what Renee had said.  And, most lately on her
mind, she'd been thinking about what she and Robert had just done, right
next door.  Robert had a singular way of trying to convince her that
grasping women should be the least of her worries.  His soothing voice had
come with soothing hands and, like she always did when she was around him,
she was soon panting with passion as he casually undressed her.

   Then he had made love to her with his mouth, all over her body, driving
her to distraction by bringing her close to an orgasm, but always pulling
back before she got there.  Somehow he had gotten naked while he did this,
and when he stood to show her what she did to him he smiled.  He had placed
his open hand under his balls and that magnificent penis, like he was
holding it, about to lift it away from his body to present to her.

   "This is yours, Rami.  It has no purpose but to pleasure you and give us
children together.  If you do not want it, then it shall lie unused for the
rest of my life.  You are my love, and I want no other."

   She had burst into tears of mixed joy and hope and frustration that she
couldn't just be like any other woman and love him and be allowed to love
him.  He had mounted her, somehow knowing that she wanted him and stroking
her until her tears stopped flowing.  She confessed her own love for him
again and though they had done this many times, it was like the first time
for her.  He was gentle and brought her to an orgasm that was like being
suddenly dipped in warm water when it's freezing outside.  Then he came in
her, flushing her full of warmth deep inside too.

   Ramona's face got hot as she looked around the kitchen to see if her
children were there, where they could see her reaction to remembering what
had only happened thirty minutes ago.  But they weren't there and it was
quiet in the house.

   Ramona went to her bedroom to change panties - the ones she'd put on for
work this morning were no longer suitable to be worn in public - and she
had to pass her daughter's bedroom on the way.  The door had been
carelessly left open and she saw the still forms of her son and daughter
clasping each other under the light sheet.

   Had Ramona not been in the afterglow of her own sexual release, and had
not her brother taken from her the burden of worry and fear that had been
laid upon her by her friend, she might not have reacted to what she saw in
the way she did.

   She stepped into the room and leaned over her children, seeing that they
were both asleep.  Their faces were beautiful and peaceful in repose and
she reacted to that like all parents do when they see their sleeping
children.  There was an upwelling of love in her heart.  She noticed their
bare shoulders, and understood without having to look under the sheet that
they were naked together.  But she and Robert had just been naked together
too.  While she KNEW how that felt to her, she also knew of the
difficulties that siblings could suffer when they had that kind of
relationship.  The world was a harsh and unforgiving place for siblings to
be in love in.  Before this moment she had been teetering toward trying to
convince her children that what they felt was a dead end, and not worth the
pain and stress of keeping it alive.

   But, what had just happened between her and Robert was so powerful that
she also knew that whatever means she tried to use to keep her children
apart ...  it would fail.

   She didn't wake them.  Instead, she turned on her heel, did what she had
come there to do, and went back to work.

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

   That afternoon, Robert Ellsworth Nettleton appeared in court, where the
last of his legal issues was brought to settlement.  Robert, by use of well
paid and experienced experts, showed beyond any doubt that the claims
against his estate for "services rendered" were frivolous and without
merit. The gavel sounded repeatedly as the ambulance chaser hired by greedy
businessmen to plunder the Nettleton fortune sagged lower and lower into
his chair.  He had enjoyed visions of a hefty income, based on thirty
percent of what he anticipated "recovering" for his clients.  He had
already spent those hundreds of thousands of dollars in his mind.  He had
thought that, when the judge scheduled all six cases for one hearing, that
the judge had already decided to grant all his claims.  Why else would a
judge try to do that much business all at the same time?  Instead, he began
to wonder if he would still have a job when he went back to the city and
reported complete failure.  He berated himself for filing these cases in a
jurisdiction that was in the middle of nowhere.  He should have known not
to let this hick judge hear these cases.

   "Mister Cochran." barked the judge when it was all over.

   The lawyer stood and looked up at the old man on the bench.  What did
the old fart want now?

   "If you ever appear in my court room again trying to commit robbery,
I'll have your license and if things go like I want I'll have your balls
too.  Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

   Jeff Cochran was stung.  Nobody treated him that way back in the city.
He was stiff with outrage as he responded.  "Your honor," there was a hint
of sarcasm as he said that, "I merely pursued the objectives of reputable
businessmen and believed their claims to be legitimate.  You can't fault me
for that.  That, sir, is what lawyers do."

   The judge scowled.  "You just remember what I said, young man.  I doubt
that will happen because you appear to me to be an idiot.  Next time some
fly-by-night contractor hires you, at least go look at what he claims to
have done.  Now, get out of my courtroom.  I have REAL cases to hear!"

   Robert, who had stood quietly as the exchanges took place, merely bowed
toward the judge, by habit, and said "Thank you your honor."

   The judge waved his hand.  "Welcome back, sir.  Some time we need to get
together.  I'd like to hear what you've been up to all these years."

   Robert left the courtroom and went directly to another office in the
courthouse, where he paid a reasonable fee for copies of certain documents
on file there.  These he placed in his briefcase before leaving the
courthouse.

   When he went outside there was a man waiting for him.  The man had a
notebook and pencil in his hand.

   "Mister Nettleton!" he called "Randy Stevens, of the Howard County
Picayune.  Could I have an interview please?"

   "Certainly, mister Stevens.  First a question for you, if you don't
mind. What, exactly, is a 'picayune'?"

   Randy looked confused.  "It's a newspaper, sir." he said.

   "I understand that," said Robert patiently, "But from where does that
word come?  What did it mean before somebody decided to use it as the name
for a newspaper?"

   Randy was still confused.  He was all of twenty-six years old and, after
graduating from college, had gone home to live with his parents and work
for the biggest newspaper in the county.  It had over two thousand
subscribers, which seemed like an awful lot to Randy.

   "I don't rightly know the answer to that, Mr.  Nettleton."

   "Ah," said Robert sagely.  "No matter.  I was just curious." Robert had
been having a little fun, trying to needle the reporter.  He was quite
aware that a 'picayune' was a half dime coin that had been in use in the
South in years past.  The dictionary definition these days was "something
of little value".

   Randy, on his first real live mission as a 'society reporter' just
nodded and launched into what he thought were penetrating and important
questions about what 'the famous mister Nettleton' had been doing since the
tragic death of his parents.  All this was the result of his editor, one
Hortence Robinson, age sixty, who had seen the court docket and recognized
the Nettleton name from her youth.  She had instructed her 'ace reporter'
to "get on down there to Nettleton and get me something to put in the
paper. It's been a slow week for news and I need to fill a couple of
columns!"

   Thus it was that Howard County and the city of Nettleton, found out that
Robert Nettleton, the child of murdered parents, was back in his ancestral
home, which was being refurbished in an attempt to restore it to it's
historical splendor.  Roughly two thousand and twenty people (twenty bought
the paper from a machine at the local grocery store) were pleased to read
that a nice young man who had done a whole lot of missionary work overseas
in six different countries, had come back to spend some of his inheritance
in Howard County.  The only sad part of the story was that, over the years,
he had lost touch with his sister, who had gone on to live her life in
anonymity somewhere.  If, as Randy pointed out sadly, she was even still
alive.  Hortence filled her two columns and was happy.  What with people
sharing newspapers like they did so often (to her disgruntlement), it was
quite possible that as many as twenty-five hundred people in the county had
read the story.  And if THEY talked about it to their friends, maybe the
other thirty thousand residents of the county would be spurred to buy a
damned paper themselves!

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

   Ramona was glad to leave work that night.  She needed to soak in a nice
hot bath and relax.  Her world had been turned upside down and, though it
was beginning to settle, the world looked different to her than it had such
a short time ago.  She was astonished at the differences in the mansion. 
The landscaping was almost done, with the exception of the part of the yard
that was reserved for contractor's vehicles to park in.  A large Gazebo had
been built on the front lawn, surrounded by flower gardens and a winding
path of flagstone.  Hedges had been planted that, when mature, would make
walls along pathways, turning them into private places, almost like a maze.



   There was a fresh coat of paint on the structure.  The shutters had been
repaired, along with various portions of the facade and roof.  The tower
roof now gleamed with a new coverting of burnished copper.  The carriage
house had been renovated and even the old carriage in it had been lovingly
restored by one of the few people in the country who knew how to do the
work in the original fashion.

   The interior of the house looked like her dim memories of the home she
was born into.  There were some new things.  She loved the stained glass
windows and how they cast bright color over everything.  Electricity had
made a tremendous difference in the place, banishing gloom and dark corners
to a past that was also becoming easier to make dim and unnoticeable. 
Robert had even restored her bedroom to it's exact appearance in her
memory. Wood gleamed everywhere with oils and polish.  The musty smell had
gone with the original fabrics which had been replaced with authentic
period designs.

   She had noticed all these things in her last panicked trip to see
Robert, and then had really SEEN them as she left.  As she got in her car
to go home and change panties she had realized that the house in her
memories, the dark and forbidding place where so much pain had been felt,
wasn't there any more.  THIS house looked like a warm and inviting place,
where only love might live.  It was unsettling in a strange way, because
she wasn't used to thinking about the Nettleton Mansion as anything but a
sad, dismal and lonely place.

   And then she'd come home to find her children naked in bed.  That she'd
left them alone still niggled at her.  It seemed like everything in her
life niggled at her right now.  All she wanted to do was soak in the tub,
with maybe a little Mahler playing softly on the record player.  She wished
she had a bottle of wine.

   She entered the house to find that her children were preparing supper.
They had put together a green bean casserole with crisped onions on top,
and had made a valiant attempt at frying chicken, though the breading
hadn't stuck and the pan was a bit too hot.  There was a pot of semi-mashed
potatoes on the stove.  A little additional milk would finish them to a
creamy texture.  There was also the smell of baking bread in the room.

   "You baked bread?!" she asked, incredulous.

   "Well, sort of." said Debbie, a little uncertainly.  "It didn't get all
big and puffed up like when you do it.

   Ramona looked into the oven and saw a loaf of bread about half as risen
as it should have been.

   Still, it made her heart warm to think that the children had done this
for her.  She announced that she was going to let them finish while she
took a bath.  She wouldn't get to soak quite as long as she'd planned, but
it would be enough.  She already felt better.

   Ramona wrapped a towel around her head, turban style and donned her
thick terrycloth robe, belting it tightly around her body.  She put on her
fluffy blue slippers and padded down to the kitchen.  She paused in the
doorway.  Debbie was stirring the mashed potatoes industriously while Robby
stood behind her, his arms around her.  It was obvious his hand were on
Debbie's breasts and she was wiggling her hips, pushing them into Robby's
groin.

   "Robby!" scolded the girl.  "Behave yourself.  Mom could be down any
minute."

   "I can't resist you." said her brother into the back of her head as he
breathed in the scent of her hair.

   "You're sweet," said Debbie, and Ramona could tell she meant it.  "but
knock it off.  You're making me horny and dinner's almost ready."

   "Put it on warm." suggested her brother.  "Mom's probably still soaking.
We could have a little fun before she gets done."

   "Mom's DONE soaking." said Ramona, stepping into the kitchen.  She
almost laughed as Robby jerked his hands away from his sister's breasts and
stepped back, looking embarrassed.

   "Told you." said Debbie, looking over her shoulder at her brother.  Her
cheeks were a little pink.

   "The bathroom is free." said Ramona, sitting down at the table.  "In
case you want to take a cold shower or something." She wanted to smile at
Robby, but didn't.  She didn't want to get into it with her children.  Not
only was she feeling better, she wasn't at all sure how much energy she
could put into trying to make them stop.

   She changed the subject.  "If not, I'm starved and it smells wonderful
in here."

   They sat down to eat and the tension drained away as they talked about
inconsequential things.  The food tasted good and, if there was a little
burn on the chicken and the bread was heavy and dense, Ramona didn't care.
It was the thought that counted, and she appreciated that.

   That night they watched a movie together, all three sitting the couch,
with Robby in the middle, sandwiched between the women.  both leaned their
heads on his shoulder.  It was such a satisfying evening that Neither
Ramona nor her children felt compelled to seek sex for the rest of the
night.

   The next day Ramona was at her desk, head down, going through the
ever-increasing stack of bills and invoices associated with the renovation
of the mansion when a shadow fell over her desk.  She looked up to see her
friend, Renee standing there.

   "You have a visitor." she said, smiling like the cat that ate the
canary. "I see now why you never answered my question about whether he was
cute or not.  I wouldn't want anybody to know what a hunk he is either if
he were mine."

   Ramona's gut clenched.  Robert?  Here?  In daylight?

   Renee misinterpreted her look of consternation.  "You want me to stall
him while you go freshen up?" She looked absolutely delighted to be part of
a conspiracy to bag a rich bachelor.

   "That won't be necessary" said Robert's deep voice from behind Renee,
who jumped visibly and blushed, having been caught in her self-started
conspiracy.  "Ms Franklin is quite lovely enough as she is, do you not
think so?" he asked in his odd speech pattern.

   Renee was quick on her feet, Ramona had to admit that.  "Alas, for the
rest of us, she is, indeed, quite beautiful as she is." She turned to
Ramona and winked broadly.  "Mister Nettleton is here to see you Ramona. 
Shall I get you both something to drink?  We have ...  ah ...  water, I
believe."

   "If I were to drink anything, I should be forced to drink in the beauty
of two such lovely women." said Robert, bowing.

   Renee flushed bright red at the compliment and gasped as Robert reached
for her hand to kiss it.

   "Ah ..." he sighed.  "I see that you have foolishly wed another man.  Oh
well, such is life.  It shall be difficult, but I shall go on."

   He said it in a way that made it obvious he was poking a little fun at
Renee.  But the feel of his fingers on hers, and the thought of all that
money made her pussy squirt.  She removed her hand from his and, with a
sigh, left for her own desk.

   "What are you doing here?" whispered Ramona, staring up at her brother.

   "Why, I'm visiting my account representative at this wonderful bank." he
said.  "Is this something I should not do?"

   "But you're ...  YOU." she said.

   He moved to the chair beside her desk and sat down, just as the
president of the bank hurried up to her desk.

   "Ah, Ramona ...  Mister Nettleton ...  we're honored that you visit with
us today.  I'm Frank Peterson, President of the bank.  Would you like to
move to the conference room?  We can call out for some refreshments."

   Robert stood.  He assumed a somewhat stiff physical demeanor that was
utterly alien to Ramona, and his head came up a trifle.  There was a smile
on his face, though, that softened the look of superiority.

   "Thank you so much, kind sir." he said graciously.  "I only wanted to
come in and convey my thanks to this fine woman who has done such a
wonderful job thus far in managing my accounts.  I understand that she
caught someone trying to take advantage of me and has resolved the matter.
I appreciate it when someone cares for my welfare."

   Frank fairly wiggled with excitement at Robert's words of praise for
Ramona.  "Well, we try to serve." he said happily.  "And Ramona is one of
our best."

   Ramona shot him an incredulous look at the blatant lie and then listened
in disbelief as the man went on.

   "As soon as your ...  ah ...  man ...  suggested her I knew you had
instructed him to find only the cream of the crop.  We treasure our Ramona
here at the bank." he said importantly.

   "Yes ..." said Robert.  "I'm sure you do.  And now I treasure her too.
Isn't that nice?" He reached over and patted Ramona's hand.  "Thank you my
dear.  I have a lot of money, but I appreciate you saving some of it from
that unscrupulous contractor.  Perhaps you could let me express my thanks
more effusively over dinner?"

   Ramona couldn't believe what was going on around her.  She was so
unsettled that she parroted the company line.  "Thanks so much, but
employees aren't allowed to date customers."

   "Nonsense!" barked the president, a small frown appearing between his
eyebrows.  "Mister Nettleton isn't just a customer.  He's almost family."

   It sounded ridiculous to everyone within earshot ...  and there were
suddenly a LOT of employees within earshot.  His comment about family, even
though it was obviously ignorant of the true situation, struck Ramona like
a blow.

   Almost as an afterthought Peterson went on.  "And you two can discuss a
little business at dinner.  That will make it all perfectly on the up and
up."

   It was an almost blatant pimping of the resources of the bank, and
everyone in the room knew it.  Frank Peterson was all smiles though, as
Robert nodded.

   "Yes, that would be fine.  Alas, I have no automobile yet.  Nor have I
hired a chef.  Would it be too base of me to call for you in a taxi this
evening?  Where would you like to go?  I'm so new in town that I fear I
have no idea of good places to eat."

   Ramona saw Frank taking a breath that she feared would lead to all kinds
of problems as he made what would likely be insane suggestions.  Without
thinking it through she spoke.

   Mr.  Nettleton, as it happens I live right next door to your house. 
Perhaps you'd like to just have dinner at my house.  I have two children,
but I'm sure they wouldn't mind having a guest for dinner."

   Robert lit up, his smile wide.  "What a stupendous idea." he said.  "I
accept!" He reached for her hand and kissed it like he had Renee's.  "What
time shall I be there?" he asked.  "And which of my neighbors are you?"

   His acting was impeccable to the point that Ramona even found herself
believing he didn't know anything about her.  She described how he could
get to her house and suggested that she could have dinner ready by seven.
He grinned and, whirled to find twenty people standing around the desk,
staring at him.

   "You have a wonderful bank." he pronounced, as if he had gathered them
together intentionally and was now delivering a planned speech.  "Thank you
so much."

   Then he strode for the front door, the sea of people parting before him
as if he were a huge ship on the ocean.

   There was a general babble of excitement when the front door closed, and
several customers looked around, wondering what was going on, and why no
one paid any attention to them at all.  Frank Peterson shooed everyone back
to their work stations and then turned to Ramona.

   "I'll arrange for a catered meal immediately." he said brusquely.

   "Sir," she objected.  "He's only coming for dinner.  He's just a man."

   "No, Ramona" said Frank, that small frown back between his eyebrows
again.  "He is NOT just a man.  He's a very RICH man.  We only have one
depositor who has more money in our bank than he does.  That depositor is
this man's sister, and we haven't heard from her in so long that I'm not
sure she's even still alive." If this man withdraws his money from this
bank, almost a third of our assets will disappear in a puff of smoke and I
don't want to even THINK of that happening.  Now, you go home and get
ready. I really wish you hadn't offered to meet him at your house.  Do I
need to hire a cleaning team?"

   Ramona's face had gone from pale, at his mention of Robert Nettleton's
sister, to pink and then a mottled reddish purple as this thoughtless man
suggested her house wasn't a fit place to entertain one of the bank's
customers.

   "I do NOT need the services of a cleaning team, mister Peterson.  And I
do NOT need anyone to cook a decent meal for me and a guest!  If you don't
think I can adequately entertain Mister Nettleton I will most HAPPILY
contact him and tell him that he's just going to have to HAVE DINNER WITH
SOMEONE MORE ACCEPTABLE THAN I AM!"

   When she was finished shouting she was breathing deeply, her shoulders
rising and falling, her fists clenched.  Frank Peterson recognized
something that all men must learn to recognize, if they hope to survive in
this world ...  the sound of a woman who is pissed off...  and who is
pissed off at HIM.

   Everyone was staring at them again and Frank raised his hands.  "OK, OK,
Ramona I was just suggesting it so that you wouldn't have to take so much
of your time to prepare.  No harm done.  In fact, take the rest of the day
off.  That way you won't have to hurry."

   He abruptly turned and went back to his office.  Ramona saw a few grins
on the faces of her co-workers.  She sat back down angrily, and began to
sort her papers, getting ready to do just what Peterson had suggested take
the rest of the day off.

   Renee appeared at her desk.  That she was excited was evident in several
ways.  She was almost panting, her face was a wreath of smiles, and her
nipples were poking firmly through her bra and blouse.

   "He's GORGEOUS!" she whispered excitedly.  "And he's coming to YOUR
house for dinner!" She took a moment to breathe.  "You want to send Robby
and Debbie over to my house?  So you two can be alone?"

   Ramona, still furious, glared at her friend.

   Once again Renee misunderstood what was going on in Ramona's mind.  She
held up one finger and pointed it at Ramona, like a knife that she meant to
threaten her with.

   "Now you listen to me Ramona Franklin.  Don't screw this up.  I don't
care if he's quirky or even a pain in the ass, which he does NOT appear to
be to me.  You be NICE to him tonight.  I swear I'll tear your hair out if
you mess this up.  You deserve to have a decent man in your life and he
looks plenty decent to me."

   Ramona's eyes had gone round with surprise at the forcefulness of
Renee's admonitions.

   Renee deflated, her anger melting away like a snowflake on a July day.
She sat down at Ramona's desk and leaned close, speaking more softly,
pleadingly.

   "Come on sweetie, give the guy a chance.  He likes you.  I could see it
in his eyes.  Get to know him a little.  What could it hurt.  If he's
really a jerk you can blow him off later.  You'll never get another chance
like this and maybe he could even make you happy."

   Ramona sensed the honesty and care in Renee's voice, and felt a little
guilty that Renee was pleading for something that had already been done.

   "OK" she sighed.  "I'll be good."

   Renee grinned.  "Excellent.  But don't be good.  Be bad.  Be very bad.
what size are you?  I have this perfectly delicious little number that
would look really good on you and leave him drooling.  We're about the same
size aren't we?" She nattered on, full of ideas of ways Ramona could seduce
Robert Nettleton, while Ramona tried not to giggle and loved her friend for
what she was trying to do.

   In the end Ramona waited to leave until lunchtime, when Renee could run
home and show Ramona the dress she wanted to offer for the seduction of
Robert Nettleton.  When Ramona saw it she actually blushed.  It would show
off almost every inch of skin on her body, and would allow access to every
part of her without any barriers at all.  It was a scandalous dress.

   "I can't wear that in front of my children." protested Ramona.

   "I told you, send them to my house.  I'll order pizza.  Teenagers love
pizza.  They'll be fine.  What do they care about some guy coming to dinner
anyway?"

   "More than you might think." said Ramona without thinking.

   "Well, take the dress anyway.  Talk to the kids when you get home.  If
they want to come visit aunty Renee then tell them they're welcome.  OK?"

   Ramona went one way while Renee went back to work.  She parked the car
and went in the house, carrying the scandalous strips of flimsily cloth
that somebody had decided to call a dress.  She was distracted enough that
she didn't call out to her children.

   Once again she approached her daughter's bedroom door, and once again it
had been carelessly left open.  Once again her children were in the bed
together, and once again they were naked.

   But they were most definitely not sleeping this time.

   Debbie's elbows were hooked under her knees, which she had pulled up,
toward her head and spread widely.  Robby was between his sister's thighs,
his hands on either side of her breasts.  His lips were firmly suckling one
of her nipples as he slid his long, hard teenage prick slowly in and out of
his sister's pussy.

   To Ramona it looked almost like a slow motion film.  Robby's movements
were measured and almost gentle, as if he were easing his penis into his
sister's sex while she was asleep and he was trying not to wake her.  When
he reached full penetration he stopped, grinding his pelvis against hers
before slowly dragging his penis out of her again.  Only Debbie's soft
repeated "Yes ...  yes ...  Oh Robby", said at normal speed, spoiled the
illusion that time had slowed.

   Ramona's pussy squirted at the tenderness of the copulation going on
before her eyes.  She thought of her children's statement that they had
never done this and felt the hurt of a parent lied to.  Just then Debbie
sighed.

   "Oh Robby, I'm so glad we decided to try this.  This is so ...  I feel
so ...  I can't believe how much time we've wasted not doing this.  I
completely understand why Mommy wants to do this." Then she began to pant
too hard to talk, and she pulled her knees harder, her head lifting off the
bed.  "Oh Robby, it's going to happen ...  Oh ROBBY! 
OHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMmmm"

   Ramona's pussy clenched as she realized her daughter was having an
orgasm.  Even the orgasm seemed to be in slow motion, almost quiet and
serene.  At that moment, Ramona gave in.  She recognized in her children
the same love and affection and satisfaction she felt with her own brother,
and had felt for years without any feeling of shame or guilt.  Her
children's lovemaking was so tender and sweet that she somehow knew it was
as real as what she shared with Robert.

   She stayed long enough to see Robby's buttocks clench, his penis fully
embedded in his sister, as he gave a low groan of satisfaction.  Ramona
knew what was happening inside her daughter.  She could almost feel the wet
heat of Robby's sperm flowing in her own pussy.

   She turned silently and tiptoed back the way she'd come.  Dinner could
wait.  She needed to go see Robert.

   She took the dress with her.

   Chapter Thirteen

   Ramona found her brother at the mansion.  Again he was talking to a
worker, this time about the choices for a heating system for both the house
and the water system.  The workman was suggesting that the house, even
though renovated, was too big for a conventional system, and was
recommending that a boiler be installed.  It would handle all the heating
needs and could be slaved to the new duct work being installed.  Ramona
stood quietly, waiting for them to finish.

   Robert turned his head and saw Ramona.  He smiled and told the man to do
whatever he thought would lead to the best result.

   Then he turned to Ramona, looking at the cloth in her hands.

   "Renee gave me this to wear at dinner tonight." she said, by way of
explanation.  "She wants me to seduce you."

   "Smart woman." he commented.  "Perhaps you'd show me what the dress
looks like now?  Upstairs?" He grinned.

   She wanted to take his hand and lead him there herself, but didn't. 
There were too many people around.  "Yes." she said simply.

   She followed him and, when they were locked in the master bedroom, he
watched silently as she stripped in front of him.  Naked, she stepped into
the dress and pulled it up and onto her body.  Her breasts were a little
smaller than Renee's, and her nipples showed in the gap of the bodice.  It
was as if she was wearing almost nothing.

   "It doesn't fit well." she said.

   "Perhaps she'll tell you where she got it, so I can have one made to fit
you better." he said.

   She dropped the dress in answer.  She was panting.

   Their lovemaking was not, in any way, shape of form, slow motion in
nature.  Ramona was wild for him, her emotions having been at a peak ever
since seeing her children on the bed.  She told him what she'd seen, and
then bit his shoulder, so intense was her first orgasm.  He sensed her need
and waited, controlling his own urge and pounding her through two more
orgasms before he asked for, and received permission to jet her full of his
seed.

   As they lay spent in each other's arms, she kissed the teeth marks she
had left in his shoulder.

   "I hurt you!  I'm sorry." she said.

   "It was stupendous.  You must spy on the children again sometime.  It
made you like a tigress."

   She was both too relaxed to slap at him and too astonished that some
part of her reacted positively to his suggestion to say anything.  Instead
she got up and got dressed and then went back home, making as much noise as
she could both in the garage, and in the kitchen, banging cupboard doors
and talking to herself as she got some juice to drink.  She unconsciously
took inventory of what there was to prepare for her brother's visit that
night.

   Debbie sauntered into the kitchen.

   "Hi Mom." she said brightly.  "What are you doing home so early?"

   There wasn't anything in Debbie's voice that suggested that Ramona
shouldn't come home early, or that maybe her mother was trying to spy on
her children, but something deep in Ramona was tired of the secrets and the
lies that had flowed around this household like smoke from a fire.  It was
an unconscious decision on her part to do what she did.  One might say she
was actually driven to do it in a sense.  For whatever reason, she turned
and spoke.

   "I saw you this afternoon." she said, looking at her daughter.  Debbie
had a healthy glow about her, almost a radiance.  Ramona had heard the
coarse term "well fucked" but now she was seeing it and it made all kinds
of sense.  Her heart fluttered as she realized she probably looked exactly
the same way.  She felt fabulously fucked and it had to show.

   "What?  When?" asked Debbie, confused.  They hadn't left the house all
day.  When their mother had left for work the teens had succumbed to a
hormonal attack and had been trying to ease that itch all day long.  Though
Ramona didn't know it, the time she'd seen them was actually the fourth
time that day that Robby had emptied his balls into his sister's
well-fucked belly.

   "About an hour ago." said Ramona, taking a drink of her juice.

   "Oh." said Debbie, thinking furiously.  There was only one place they
had been an hour ago.  They had spent the first half of the morning in
Robby's room, when she snuck in and jumped on top of him and then got
pinned like a 109 pound wrestler in a 135 pound match.  Then they had
transferred to her room for the slower, more sensual lovemaking, where she
called the shots.

   "OH!" said Debbie, her stomach doing flip flops.

   "I thought you told me you two hadn't gone that far." said Ramona, her
voice sounding unconcerned enough that it caught Debbie's ear and made her
tense up.

   "We didn't." said Debbie hurriedly.  "Not until yesterday.  When you
left for work I went to tickle him and he got excited and then I got
excited and ..." She looked at her mother.  Debbie knew that this was a
time when things could work out for the good, or things could go horribly
wrong.  "I thought about you." Debbie said, stopping again.  "I thought
about how happy you were when you were with Uncle Robert and we were ... 
watching." Debbie took a step toward her mother.  "And I knew that you
wouldn't do that unless it was something really special and important.  And
Robby's important to me, so I made him do it to me."

   "You made him?" asked Ramona, impressed that her daughter had been not
only willing to tell her what happened, but pretty capable to express her
state of mind at the time too.  Most kids just got carried away and did
things without thinking at all.

   "He didn't want to at first." said Debbie.  "He was afraid it would hurt
me."

   "And did it?" Ramona was shocked that she'd asked.

   "It did at first.  But Mommy, you know what it's like.  I could hear it
in your voice.  And now I understand, because I felt it too.  I never felt
anything like that before."

   "So you wanted to feel it again today." prompted Ramona.

   "Yes." said her daughter, hanging her head.  "Do you hate me now?"

   Ramona reached out and took Debbie in her arms.

   "No, baby, I don't hate you.  I'm afraid for you.  I worry that this
will hurt you later, but I don't hate you.  I love you.  I told you that
will never change.

   The tension that was in Debbie broke and she cried on her mother's
shoulder, mixed tears of relief, and happiness, and grief for making her
mother worry.  "He loves me mother, and I love him so much I can't tell you
how much." she cried into her mother's hair.

   Ramona smoothed her hands over her daughter's back.  "I know,
sweetheart, I know.  I understand exactly how you feel."

   That was pretty much it.  There were no protestations that they wouldn't
do it again, and no threats about what would happen if they did.  The
mother/daughter relationship had fled by all that, leaving it in the dust
as each accepted in the other some things they might have wished were
different.

   "Your uncle is coming to dinner tonight." said Ramona.

   Debbie pushed back.  "Really?  I don't hate him any more Mom."

   Ramona laughed.  "I can't stay mad at him either.  It's terrible.  He
came into the bank today and asked me out on a date!"

   Debbie made shocked sounds and then demanded to know everything.  Like
two best friends they chattered together as Ramona started pulling things
out of the fridge to make a salad and described everything that had
happened, like one girl telling another how a date with an interesting boy
had gone.

   Their squeals and laughter brought Robby to the kitchen, looking
surprised.

   "What's going on?" he asked.

   Debbie held up a finger to her mother.  "Don't tell him.  I want to tell
him later, OK?"

   Ramona nodded, surprised, thinking that Debbie meant Robert was coming
over that night.  But, as Debbie then launched into a retelling of what had
happened at the bank Ramona realized that Debbie wanted to talk to her
lover about being discovered - while they were alone.  That was OK with
Ramona.  She'd had enough drama for the day.

   When Debbie got to the part where Renee had invited the kids over for
pizza to let Ramona be alone with the rich man so she could seduce him, she
giggled, enjoying the same irony that Ramona had.

   Robby had been grinning for some time.  "So, you want us to do that
Mom?" he asked.  "Go over to Renee's I mean?"

   Ramona felt a rush of tenderness.  Her children were going to let her
have her happiness.  But she shook her head.  "No, that would be too out of
character for me.  We're going to have to make it look like I'm playing
hard to get." She realized, as soon as she said it, that it sounded like
she was going to let people think there WAS something between her and
Robert Nettleton.  That thought buzzed in her brain and her alarm bells
went off.  What she and Robert had must remain a secret.  All would be lost
if anyone besides her children found out.

   The kids exploded into action, running around, cleaning the
already-clean house, like they had before the last disaster that had been a
visit for dinner by Robert Nettleton.  This time they would know who he
was, and what that meant to their mother.  This time it would go much
better.

   Robert showed up at the front door precisely on time, and he had both a
bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses in his hands.  It was Debbie who
answered the door, based on her mother's frantic shout that she was at a
critical point in the gravy making and couldn't leave the stove.

   While there is no scientific proof to back this up, the author is quite
convinced there's a gene in females of the species that is there just to
make sure that, when a woman sees flowers in a man's hand, her sex drive
kicks in.  Debbie had never received flowers from a man, but she had that
gene, and it kicked in.  It kicked in even though Debbie's conscious mind
knew quite clearly that the flowers were for her mother, and not for her.
That gene just isn't sophisticated enough to tell who flowers are for.

   It's true.  If you don't believe it, just deliver a vase of flowers to a
woman in an office somewhere who works with other women around her.  You
don't even have to know the woman.  In fact, it's better, for the sake of
the experiment, if you DON'T know the woman.  Just deliver her flowers with
a card that says "An anonymous admirer" and act like a normal delivery guy.
Then watch the OTHER women in the office.  They'll light up, and smile and
make all kinds of vaguely sexual sounds and the smell of wet pussy will
waft on the air.

   If you watched those women as closely as Robert watched his niece, you'd
see their pupils dilate as that gene tells the pleasure center of the brain
to release a squirt of dopamine into the bloodstream.

   And that's for flowers they know aren't even for them!

   Of course, by the time they get home to their men ...  not bringing
flowers home to put on the table ...  that dopamine will have diluted to
pretty near nothing as other emotions replace the initial wish for a nice
hard cock in that wet pussy.  The replacement emotions, unfortunately,
generally result in statements like: "Janice got flowers at work today. 
Nobody ever sends ME flowers at work!  You haven't slept on the couch for a
while.  Maybe it's worn out.  Maybe we need a new one.  Why don't YOU sleep
on the couch for a few nights just so we know for sure."

   Of course it's possible that that is another function of the 'flower
gene' and that if the urge to mate is not satisfied within a reasonable
time after the flowers are introduced into a woman's life ...  whether
they're for her or not, the gene then brings about these other reactions.

   At any rate, Robert, his observation skills honed by being a foreigner
in hostile places for years, DID notice Debbie's pupils dilate.  And he saw
in those young eyes a wish that the flowers were for her.

   His plan changed, adapting to new circumstances.

   "I have here wine for your beautiful mother." he said.  He winked and
said "Perhaps she will lower her guard tonight if she drinks too much?"

   Then he extended the bouquet of flowers.

   "And these are for my beautiful niece, to begin to make up for ruining
her playhouse and bringing so much turmoil to her life."

   Debbie's 'flower gene' told her brain to go ahead and give another
squirt of dopamine.  She took the roses and smelled them.

   "I don't think you need the wine to get Mom's guard down." she said,
smiling.

   He smiled back.  "Ah, then perhaps I can convince her to give you a
little."

   His flirting reference to what he had said the wine was for created an
instant flock of butterflies in Debbie's stomach.  Her recent arrival at
full womanhood still had her hormones at high levels, and attention from a
man, even one she had so recently disliked, kicked those hormones into
little storms in her body.  She felt her nipples crinkle and blushed.

   Debbie backed up and ushered her uncle into the house, and, because he
was family, on into the kitchen, instead of the living room.  It was a
little thing in her mind, but it registered with him in a big way.  He
wanted his niece and nephew to like him.  In one sense he NEEDED his niece
and nephew to like him if his plan was going to work out like he wanted it
to.

   "Look Mommy!" Debbie squealed as she went to her mother.  "Uncle Bob
..." she faltered and turned to Robert.  "Is it OK if I call you Uncle
Bob?"

   He smiled again and nodded.  "I prefer it."

   Debbie turned back to her mother.  "Uncle Bob brought me flowers!"

   Ramona had turned when her daughter first spoke, and saw the roses in
her hands.  Ramona had the gene too, of course, and she knew immediately
who had brought them.  She too assumed they were for her, but her reaction
to her daughter's statement wasn't one of disappointment.  She was thrilled
for Debbie, and was quite able to use her own shot of dopamine to channel
her pleasure to happiness at her little girl's pleasure.

   "How sweet" she said, feeling a rush of emotion for her daughter.  "And
roses too!  You better watch out for him Deb."'

   Her mother's unknowing reference to her uncle's teasing remark wasn't
lost on Debbie and she blushed again.  She'd never really thought about
what it might be like for a man other than her brother to pay attention to
her.  It was true that boys at school liked to look at her, but they were
just a distraction to Debbie, and not material for serious consideration.
They couldn't stack up to Robby, and they for sure couldn't stack up to her
uncle.

   Debbie decided to do some teasing of her own.  "He brought wine too.  He
says it's to make you let your guard down." She smiled sweetly at her
uncle.

   "Curses!" quipped Robert, twirling imaginary long moustaches.  "My plan
is foiled again!"

   Debbie teased her mother next.  "I told him he didn't need the wine."
she said.  "Then he said maybe you'd let me have some."

   Ramona laughed.  "You REALLY need to watch him then.  I had hoped I'd be
woman enough to satisfy him." she wiped her hands on a towel and went to
Robert, clasping him in her arms and kissing him soundly.  "Perhaps I'll
have to try harder." she said when the kiss was over.

   Robert ground his seemingly ever-hard penis into Ramona's mound.  "I
could not help myself." he said, as if it were nothing of consequence. 
"She looks very much like you did when you were her age."

   Ramona laughed again.  "You're a silver tongued liar.  I was a skinny
plain girl when I was Debbie's age, and nothing any boy looked at."

   "You looked like she looks to me." said Robert, kissing her gently. 
"And you were as desirable to me as she is to any man who sees her now."

   That flower gene I mentioned earlier?  There's another one too.  It's a
gene that takes compliments and transforms them into more dopamine.  Debbie
was beginning to like her uncle very much.

   Robby sauntered into the kitchen.  "Smells good in here." he said.

   "Uncle Bob got me roses!" announced Debbie proudly, thrusting them out
in front of her.  Not having been thrown to the ground and ravished while
her brain was still fogged with dopamine, the other response in Debbie
poked up it's head.

   "Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before." she said to her brother, her
eyebrow raised slightly.

   Robby, having neither the 'flower gene' nor Robert's skill in observing
other human reactions to various stimuli, made the same simple mistake that
most men would make.

   "That's nice." he said.  "When do we eat?  I'm starved." Not knowing
that his bed had just magically turned into a couch, he sat down at the
table, his eyes going hungrily to the bowls of food already set out.

   Debbie, thoroughly disgusted with her brother's tepid response to her
obvious suggestion that he should have given her flowers beginning long
ago, and frequently since then, and not having received the apology that
would have kept his bed a bed, decided to punctuate her displeasure with
her brother.  She went to her uncle, put her arms around his neck, said
"Thank you Uncle Bob." and kissed him soundly on the lips.

   Robert hadn't been kidding when he told his sister that, in his mind,
she had been just as beautiful as a teen as her daughter was.  He DID think
Debbie was a delectable slice of womanhood.  And, he had no real designs on
his niece sexually, barring the occasional fleeting fantasy most men have
when they see a good looking woman.  But he also had no internal
prohibition against incest, and he did, in fact, want his niece to like him
so his plan could go forward.

   So Robert kissed his niece like he meant it.  Which, of course, he did.
He returned her hug with strength, and Debbie felt, for the first time in
her life, a hard penis other than her brother's, pressing into her mons. 
He didn't use his tongue - that would have been much too personal at this
early stage of his relationship with his niece - but he didn't need to. 
Debbie felt faint as she received a real kiss, from a real man, that made
real things happen inside her body.

   Debbie also had no designs sexually on her uncle.  She had appreciated
the flirting and innuendo on a basic female level.  The kiss demanded more,
also on a basic level - male - and it took her breath away.

   Robert, being the more experienced of the two, released her, his hands
on her waist, and said "You are most welcome."

   Debbie stumbled backwards, reaching for a chair and sat down.  She was
already re-thinking her plan NOT to visit her brother's bedroom that night.

   Ramona had seen what happened and knew what Robert's kisses were like.
She felt no panic or jealousy, like she had at the thought of grasping
hussies trying to steal Robert from her, for his money.  Her daughter was
no threat.  Her daughter was part of her.  Her daughter deserved to
experience that kind of kiss.  She stifled a giggle at her daughter's
reaction to the kiss.

   "You shouldn't do that to a poor innocent girl." she chided Robert.  She
reached for the roses in Debbie's suddenly limp grasp.  "Here, let me put
those in water before you drop them on the floor."

   Robby, who had watched his lover kiss another man, felt less hungry
quite suddenly.  He somehow knew he was involved in that kiss, but couldn't
quite put his finger on how, or why.  He glared at his uncle.

   Robert sat down, seeing the glare coming from his nephew.  He used
camaraderie to repair hurt feelings.  "I see why you like to kiss her." he
said, winking.  "Her lips are soft and sweet, yes?"

   Robby, less comfortable with talking about what he and his sister had
been doing, and completely unaware that his mother knew all of it, felt his
face get hot.  "Well ...  you shouldn't ...  I mean we ...  Oh let's eat!"
he said, giving up on trying to deal with the subject.

   Robert laughed.  "I tell you what.  From now on I will not kiss your
sister unless you say it is OK to do so." He looked at Robby for agreement,
and when he saw Robby's astonishment he twisted the verbal knife.  "And you
shall not kiss MY sister like that unless I say it is OK to do so." He
folded his arms across his chest like he had made some royal decree, and
leaned back in his chair.

   Robby was aghast.  "I've never kissed my mother like THAT!" he yelped.

   Robert picked up his napkin and began to arrange it on his lap.  "Well
you should some time.  Her lips are tender and sweet also." He grinned.

   "BOBBY!" scolded Ramona, putting a platter of meat on the table.  "You
have no shame!"

   "This is true." said Robert, nodding his head.  "When it comes to
kissing beautiful women I have no shame.  I have just joy that I get to do
so."

   Robert relented and stopped teasing as they all sat down to share food.
Instead, he listened with glee at Debbie's retelling of the scene at the
bank when he had come in and invited Ramona to dinner.

   In a fateful way, the telling of that story, and the laughter it
produced, set the stage for Robert much better than anything else he could
have done.  When it was clear the story was over, and the chuckles had died
down, he put down his fork.

   "I am thinking of something." he said, as if he had just thought of it
that very moment, when in fact he had thought of little else ever since he
had heard that Ramona's husband had died so tragically.

   Three sets of eyes fastened on him.

   "Here I am, having dinner with Ramona Franklin and her lovely children."
he said.  "And people in town are assuming I find her desirable." So far he
hadn't said anything that caused any stir.

   "I do find her desirable." he said.  Ramona blushed, even though she
knew her children were quite aware of just how desirable he found her.

   "And on a first date, I should get to know some things about her, yes?"
he asked.

   Three sets of eyes blinked in confusion.

   "Tell me, Mrs.  Franklin, if you would," he paused for effect.  "What
was your maiden name when you married Mr.  Franklin?"

   "Ramona Shanks." replied Ramona automatically.

   "How interesting." mused Robert.  "I had heard a vague rumor that you
had a different name at one time."

   Ramona stared at him.  "I changed my name, Robert.  You know that!  What
are you getting at?"

   "And how many people here in this delightful little town, would remember
you as Elizabeth Nettleton?" asked Robert, his eyes boring into his
sister's.

   Ramona blinked again.  "I don't think anybody would." she said.  "They'd
all be so old now.  Most of them have passed on already, I'm sure.  What in
the world are you talking about?" she asked, exasperated.

   Robert waved a hand negligently.  "I was just thinking that if Robert
Nettleton found the widowed Ramona Franklin, and wished to date her, no one
would think that strange in the least."

   He waited until there were somewhat dazed nods of affirmation from the
other three people at the table.  Ramona's looked a little doubting, but
there was suddenly hope in her eyes.

   Then he dropped the bombshell.

   "And, if, as I recall, a wedding license requires only a maiden name and
some form of identification.  It seems to me that the names of Ramona
Shanks, also known as Ramona Franklin, paired with that of Robert Nettleton
on such a document, would not appear strange to anyone either."

   He gave another negligent wave of his hand.  "That is all I was
thinking."

   He picked up his fork and took a bite as if he had merely suggested that
having a picnic in the park might be a wonderful idea.

   There was a moment of hushed silence, so complete that Robert's chewing
could easily be heard by the other three.  A clock ticked loudly on the
wall over the sink.  Robby's chair creaked slightly as he shifted his
weight.  Then the fork Ramona had been holding over her plate fell from her
fingers, to bounce off her plate and clatter against her glass.

   "You can't be serious!" she said, her voice hushed.

   Robert looked at her calmly.  "I have never been more serious in my
life."

   Debbie's lip quivered.  "You'd be my Daddy?"

   Robert shook his head.  "People would call me your step-father, but I
could never replace your real father.  I am content that you think of me as
uncle.  In fact, even if you were to call me 'Uncle Bob', I don't think
people would find that too troubling, yes?  You are almost adults
yourselves, and to call a step-father 'uncle' instead of father would
suggest your respect for the man who helped create you."

   "But you'd live with us?" asked Debbie.

   "I had hoped you would give some thought to living with ME ...  in our
family home." he said.

   "In the Manor?!" Debbie said.  She leaned forward.  "We could live in
the Manor?!"

   "I would be most happy if the Nettleton mansion was again filled with
happy ...  Nettletons." said Robert.  "But perhaps we move too quickly. 
Your mother has said nothing."

   Debbie's face turned to that of her mother.  "Mommy?" she asked, her
voice high.

   Ramona looked gray.  She was looking fixedly at her brother.  "You don't
fight fair." she said, her voice low.  "You would bribe my children to
force me to live in that place."

   Robert held up his hands, palms outward.  "No, dear one.  This is only a
dream I have had ...  that our home could be brought back, and the sadness
chased out.  That we could be together as we were, free to love each other.
But I would never force you to do anything.  If you choose to marry me I
would be happy beyond my ability to proclaim.  But if taking you home cost
me your love, or cost you your happiness, I would not ask you to do that. I
love you Elizabeth." He used her real name intentionally, to remind her of
what they had felt for each other when she still used that name.  "And if I
must love you from afar, in the dark of night, then so be it.  I would
never force you."

   Ramona looked torn and sad.  "But we could never marry.  That's
craziness."

   Robby ventured to say something.  "Mom?"

   She looked at him.

   "What he said ...  about your maiden name.  It makes sense to me.  I
don't think anyone would think it was odd."

   "I suppose you want to go live there too." said Ramona tightly.

   "No!  That's not what I meant at all Mom.  I don't care where we live.
But I've seen you ...  when you look at him.  You don't look at anybody
else like that.  I didn't even like him at first, but he makes you happy,
doesn't he?"

   Ramona's weak spot had been probed.  Robert did, indeed, make her the
happiest she'd ever been, both in the past and now.  "That's not fair." she
said petulantly.  "You KNOW I love him."

   "Well gee, Mom," said Robby with sarcasm in his voice.  "What do people
in love do?  They get married Mom."

   Ramona still didn't want to make a decision.  Something deep inside her
lit up at the thought of openly calling herself Robert's wife.  But she was
still afraid.  She veered off from making that decision.

   "I suppose, since you love YOUR sister, you want to marry her too?" she
asked, throwing Robby's sarcasm back at him.

   "No." he said immediately.  "I would, if I could, but people know who we
are.  Mom, they DON'T KNOW who you really are.  Nobody knows.  Debbie and I
didn't even know.  You could do this Mom.  It would work." He waited
several heartbeats and then added "If you wanted it to."

   Ramona had felt the pressure building ever since she heard Robert speak
of marriage licenses.  It had grown as Robert pulled at her heart strings.
Debbie's attitude, though mercenary to some degree in Ramona's mind,
suggested strongly that her hatred of Robert was a thing of the past.  And
now Robby approved of this mad scheme.

   "Of COURSE I would want it to work." she groaned.  "Nothing would make
me happier than to be ...  really BE Bobby's wife."

   "Will you then at least think about it?" asked Robert.

   "You know good and well I'll think of nothing else you ...  you ...  you
MAN!" she barked.

   "That is all I could hope for." smiled Robert.  "And we," his hand swung
in a small circle that included Debbie, Robby and himself, "We will refrain
from speaking of this again until you have had time to consider this." He
pushed his plate away.  "In fact, I shall leave now, so that my presence
does not sway you."

   Ramona stood too.  "But Bobby ..." she held out a hand.  "What about
tonight?" Ramona had planned on wearing the dress for him again that night,
before he left."

   As if he could read her mind he said "My sweet, the dress will wait for
another night.  I am quite serious about this idea, and you need to be
serious about your decision when you make it.  I tell you now, I will abide
by it, and my love will not lessen, whatever you decide.  I care most for
your happiness.  If there are conditions under which you would accept, then
think on those, so that I may abide by them too."

   He stepped away from the table.  "If I were to stay, I would hold you
and kiss you and make love to you, and that would not be fair.  No, you
must think on this."

   He stepped over to Ramona and took her hand.  Very slowly and tenderly
he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.

   "Mrs.  Franklin, I was honored to be invited to your home for dinner.  I
had a wonderful time, and would like to see you again.  May I call on you
at the bank?"

   Ramona sat down hard and her shoulders shook with a mixture of laughter
and tears as her emotions boiled over.

   "Go on!" she barked, wiping her face with her hands.  "I can't think
with you in the house!"

   Robert bowed to his niece and nephew and wagged a finger at them. 
"Remember ...  not a word to your mother."

   He had made it to the front door on his own when he heard Ramona's
shriek.

   "YES!  YES YOU MAY CALL ON ME AT THE BANK!"

   He was smiling as he closed the front door behind him.

   Inside it was not as happy a place, at least not for Ramona.  She
sobbed, mostly just to release her emotions, but because as much as she
wanted her brother's crazy idea to work, she just couldn't believe it
would. Somebody would remember, or find out, and then everything would be
ruined.  One moment she decided firmly it was too great a chance to take.
Then she slid down the slippery slope of thinking how wonderful it would be
if it DID work.  She felt arms around her - two sets of arms - and heads
placed against each side of her own.  They said nothing.  They were just
there.

   She looked up with tearstained eyes at her children, first at Robby and
then at her daughter.

   "You have to tell me what to do." she sobbed.  "I don't know what to
do."

   Debbie had made tremendous strides toward becoming an adult in the past
month or so, but she wasn't quite there yet.  She pantomimed turning a key
to her lips and then threw it over her shoulder.

   Ramona raged at them, then jumped up and stalked all around the kitchen,
circling the table.  She picked up one of her pieces of good china and drew
her arm back to throw it, so great was her rage and frustration.  A hand
gripped her wrist, clamping it in a way that felt completely unbreakable,
and the plate was pulled from her fingers.  She turned to see Robby, his
face grave, and she realized he was seeing her throwing a tantrum.

   She wilted, and flowed against her son, who handed the plate to Debbie
and hugged his mother tightly.  He kissed her hair and said soft words that
everything would be all right.  Her rage abated as quickly as it had come
and she looked over at Debbie, who had tears running down her cheeks too,
though she cried silently.  There was pain on her face and Ramona couldn't
take that.  She reached out an arm and drew Debbie into the huddle.

   They stayed that way for a long time, just holding each other.

   Chapter Fourteen

   In the end, it was Debbie who spoke first.  "We love you Mommy.  We will
always love you.  It doesn't matter what you decide to do ...  we'll love
you."

   "I know" Ramona sighed.  "Will you two do the dishes?" she asked.

   They both nodded and, after a warning to be careful with her good china,
she went to soak in a hot bath.  She always thought better in a hot bath.

   Back in the kitchen Robby and Debbie worked on the dishes silently. 
Seeing their mother in such obvious distress had sobered them.  They'd
never seen her like that, and it impressed on them like nothing else could
how serious this was to their mother.

   When the last dish had been carefully dried and put away in the china
cabinet, Debbie went to her brother for a hug.  The hug turned into a kiss
and Debbie felt his arousal pushing at her.

   She touched his face, and then pushed him away.  "If Mom can't do that
tonight, then we shouldn't either." she said, drawing on that special
secret set of rules that only women have access to.

   Robby groaned, but didn't argue.  He too had taken long strides toward
manhood, and knew that sometimes you just did what the woman wanted,
whether you understood it or not.

   Instead of chasing their newfound joy, they sat together on the couch
and watched TV for a while, just being together.  Had you asked them what
they were watching they wouldn't have been able to tell you.  Like their
mother, they were thinking about what life might be like in the Nettleton
mansion.  Oddly they weren't thinking about the glitter and expensive wood
and trimmings.  They were both thinking of being able to love each other in
those rooms, where their love had taken root, and grown and blossomed.

   When they heard the bathroom door open, and saw their mother in her
robe, heading toward her bedroom, they stood and went to their own rooms
too, hoping to find sleep.  Debbie dropped Robby off at his door, kissing
him a long, sensual kiss.

   Inside his room, Robby still tasted that kiss.  Like any man, when the
woman he loves kisses him like that, it gets him going.  It was a warm
night and he lay down naked on his bed, his erection standing tall.  He
reached for a tissue and began to stroke his lust away.

   Ramona had been able, in the bath, to let her mind wander.  She let it
go where it wanted to, beginning with memories that were tattered, like a
battle flag shot to pieces and torn by the wind.  Those were the oldest
memories she had, of her mother, and her bedroom, and her dolls.  There was
no pain in those memories.  Then there was the memory of Bobby, pulling her
through the darkness of the secret passageway, telling her to be quiet. 
She shook the screams out of her head and pushed her mind to her mother's
face, eyes open and staring.  She hadn't understood what was happening
then, and only later in life did she learn what that meant.  Instead of
letting her manufactured memories mar her mother's face, she tried to
remember the eyes, eyes that looked like they were focused on some far
distant place ...  a better place ...  where there were no screams ever.

   A sudden memory assailed her, unremembered these long years.  She had
been at the woman's house, and had cried that she wanted her dolly.  The
woman had held her, saying that the dolly was gone, but that she'd get her
a new one.  That doll was probably still in her room next door.  The doll
wasn't gone.  It had lain there, alone all this time, waiting for Lizzy to
come back and hold her again.

   She had caught herself half crouching in the bath, unconsciously having
started to get up and go get her dolly.  The air was cool and she sank back
down in the tub.  Somehow, knowing that her doll was there was comforting.
It would be there tomorrow, and she'd go get it then.

   Her mind stayed in the house, in the room where she now believed her
doll lay.  All she had of that room were good memories.  It occurred to her
that it wasn't the house that had killed her parents.  Men had done that.
Greed had done that.  The house couldn't stop it from happening.  The house
had, in fact, protected Bobby and her as they hid in its dark secret
places. Then she thought about what the house looked like now, the last
time she'd seen it.  It wasn't dark and painful there ...  not really. 
There was pain associated with it, and that pain would never really go
away, but the house wasn't responsible for that.

   And now, against all odds, Bobby offered her something that, if somehow
it worked, would fulfill all her dreams and let her spend the rest of her
life sharing that love.

   Except that she couldn't believe it would work.

   Her own doubts were strong, but her mind flitted back to what her son
had said.  He had said it WOULD work.  Her children, who had been so
violently opposed to the man next door, had altered their opinions to the
point that they were in FAVOR of this crazy idea.

   She sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in her fluffy robe.  She wanted
to hear somebody tell her it would work again.  She stood and went towards
her son's room.

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

   Robby lay on his bed in the warm evening.  He was naked and his hand was
wrapped firmly around his straining prick.  He had given it only a few
leisurely strokes when he heard a soft tapping at his door.  His face broke
into a grin as he thought Debbie had relented, and was going to allow him
that special closeness after all.

   "Yeah." he said toward the door.  It opened and a female figure slipped
in quietly.

   But it wasn't his sister.  R It was his mother.

   Ramona knew instantly what her son was doing when she slid through the
door.  His pale body was stark against the dark blue bedspread he was lying
on.  She saw the head of his penis protruding from his closed fist as his
hand moved upward and his foreskin slid over the large knob at the tip. 
Her mind instantly returned to what she'd seen the day before, as that same
long penis had plumbed her daughter's depths.

   As happens so often in life, little things ...  powerful little things
...  have the capacity to alter the way we look at things.

   I'll give you an example.  When newlyweds come back from a honeymoon, we
look at them a little differently than we did before they got married.  We
look at them as fully realized sexual beings.  We know they have lain
together while he rutted in her pussy and delivered up his seed to his
chosen mate.  We know that she welcomed that.  Before this we knew them as
Ralph and Cindy, and might have known a little about them beyond that.  And
there might even have been a little fantasy about what Ralph or Cindy was
like behind closed doors.

   But now we KNOW they are sexual beings, and that may change the way we
interact with them, even if it's only in a few unimportant ways.

   Ramona knew her son was a sexual being.  She had actually seen the
evidence of it.  Robby knew his mother was a sexual being.  He had actually
seen the evidence of that.

   And, in this case, there was another little powerful thing that altered
what would have been their normal behavior.  And it was the same for both.
For Ramona, that little powerful thing was her unsatisfied lust, which her
brother had left her with.  For Robby it was the lust his sister had
refused to sate.

   Robby, who would normally have rolled over and doubled up to hide what
he was doing from his mother, just said "Mom!"

   Ramona, who would have backed out the door, or at least turned her back
on him, just said "Oh!"

   Robby, startled and not thinking too clearly, said "I thought you were
..."

   "Debbie" his mother finished for him.

   Part of the reason Robby was so unsettled was the gap in his mother's
robe, which showed an awful lot of white skin, clear down to the point
where it was obvious she was probably naked under it.  Now Robby did think
about rolling over to hide his erection from his mother.  But that seemed
childish to him, so instead, he rolled off the bed and stood, to reach for
the gym shorts that were on his desk chair.  He bent over and stepped into
them, pulling them up.  While that hid his penis from his mother's eyes, it
did nothing to make his erection less obvious, since the shorts tented out
almost obscenely.

   Ramona thought now about turning to leave too, embarrassed about the
feelings in her loins that were produced by her memory of her son's penis
sliding into her daughter's mound, and seeing that penis again.  But that
would have left everything unsettled and she needed something to settle
herself down.

   "I'm sorry." she said softly.  "I just wanted to talk." She felt the
strangest urge to ask him to take the shorts back off.

   "Oh." he said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.  His eyes
strayed to her open robe again, and he made his eyes go elsewhere.  "What
about?" he asked, realizing immediately how stupid that sounded.

   Ramona, though, heard invitation in his question, and never thought
about how obvious it was about which she wanted to speak.

   "Did you really mean what you said?  About it working?  About what
Robert ...  suggested" she asked.

   Robby forgot that he wasn't supposed to argue in favor of the proposal.
His mind latched onto something that was firm in his mind, and allowed him
to think of something other than his mother's naked body under her robe.

   "Sure" he said easily.  "Nobody knows who you are.  Debbie and I didn't
even know.  And the whole town knows by now that a Nettleton has come back
to the manor, right?  Has anybody said anything to you about that?"

   "No" she admitted, liking the feeling that he might be right.  Her
nervous hands toyed with the loose ends of the knot holding her robe
closed.

   "And don't you think that, if anybody had any suspicion about who you
are, that they'd have said something to somebody?  I mean even if they
didn't say anything directly to you, wouldn't there at least be rumors? 
And wouldn't you hear those rumors at the bank?"

   That idea caused real hope to bloom in Ramona's heart.  He was right. 
There WOULD be rumors if anybody suspected.  And it was a small town, where
rumors flowed freely and quickly.

   "I know it seems weird, but I think you should do it." said her son.

   Ramona wanted to pace.  Everything she had heard made her heart leap for
joy.  She wanted to believe.  Still it was hard.

   "So you wouldn't mind going to live ...  there." Ramona unconsciously
turned to face the direction of the Nettleton mansion.

   "Mom, I don't think Debbie and I care where we live as long as we can
all be happy." His mind flitted to the image of his mother, her legs spread
as his uncle powered his prick deep into her, and her exhortations of joy.
He spoke without meaning to.  "And it was obvious that being with him makes
you happy."

   His comment brought again to Ramona's brain the sight of him on top of
his sister, making her ...  happy.  That fanned the fires of her
unsatisfied loins.  She felt the sudden need to leave the room.  What she
was thinking wasn't right.  Not about her own son.

   "Thank you." she said breathlessly.  "I have to go now." She moved
toward him, though, instead of turning and leaving.

   Robby stood up.  What happened then was a result of completely normal
urges on a very complicated level.  It was completely normal for son to
expect his mother to hug him, and it was completely normal for her to feel
the urge to do that on a motherly level.  It was completely normal for her
to kiss him on the cheek and wish him a good night.  All those things were
normal on an unconscious level.  But their embrace was also between two
people who were very aware of the sexual nature of each other, on a level
that had nothing to do with mother and son.

   That caused Robby to move his head fractionally as she kissed him, which
resulted in that kiss being on his lips, instead of his cheek.  And, her
nervous picking at the loose knot of her robe had caused it to fall apart
as she stepped toward him, and, when she pressed her breasts to his chest,
there was no cloth between them.

   The kiss, and the feel of her hot, soft breasts pressing against his
naked chest, shocked them both and unleashed something that, until then,
had been on a tether of sorts.  What resulted was not the simple kiss good
night that each had expected.  What resulted was a tight clasp as soft lips
demanded something much more intimate.  Robby's penis, never having gotten
soft, pressed the fabric of his shorts between his mother's legs, where it
contacted her swollen and sensitive labia and prodded her clitoris, sending
an electric shock through her body.

   You hear of moments suspended in time, or of time moving in slow motion
as minds whirl at light speed, watching something unfold.  That was what
happened to both of them as, on one level they felt the emotions that
demanded their lusts be satisfied.  On another level, though, both knew
that what their bodies wanted was something that could ruin everything. 
And both, having found something precious in recent weeks, were strongly
averse to having everything ruined.

   Their lips slid off each others so they were cheek to cheek.

   "We can't." said Ramona, her voice a croak.

   "I know." said Robby, his voice tight.

   "I want to." confessed his mother.

   "Me too." confessed her son.

   They managed to push each other away, but he drank in her nakedness
through the gap of the robe, and her eyes went to the bulge that had so
electrified her just seconds ago.

   "I have to leave." she said, panic in her voice.

   "It's OK Mom" he managed.  "I love you."

   "We'll talk about this later." she gasped.

   "OK." he said simply.

   Ramona almost ran from the room then, fleeing to the safety of her
bedroom, where she threw off her robe and bounced onto her bed, legs
spread, fingers dipping into slipperiness that brought her to orgasm almost
instantly.

   In his room, Robby didn't even get his shorts off before he grasped his
penis and jerked it furiously, spurting semen in long arcing ropes that
landed on his floor.

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

   The next morning Ramona woke early.  She didn't want to face her son
and, since she had left work early the day before, she went in early to get
her work caught up.  That had the side benefit that she didn't have to face
her son either.  She was very uncomfortable that the penis she visualized
in her mind, when she had her orgasm the night before, had flitted back and
forth between Robert's and her son's.

   She had an hour of uninterrupted work before Renee came in and demanded
to know what had happened the night before.  Ramona tried to play it off as
a normal first date, and that there was just light conversation between
her, her children and Robert Nettleton.

   "Did he kiss you good night?" Renee asked avidly.

   "No." said Ramona truthfully.  She didn't count a kiss on the hand as a
good night kiss.

   "Did he try?" asked Renee, unwilling to give up her fantasy that her
friend would bag this rich bachelor.  "Please tell me he tried at least."

   "He kissed my hand, like he did yours." said Ramona.

   "I thought I told you to be bad!" complained Renee.  "Did you wear the
dress?"

   Ramona ducked her head.  "I meant to, honestly I did.  But the kids
wanted to stay and meet him, and I couldn't wear it with them there."

   "Remind me to talk to those kids of yours." said Renee trying to sound
gruff.  "At least tell me he asked you out again."

   Ramona tried to smile uncertainly.  "He did ask if he could call on me
again."

   "Oooooo that's so continental and romantic." gushed Renee.  "And THIS
time those kids are coming to my house, or you're going out with him or
something.  Maybe you could suggest that you eat at HIS house.  There have
just GOT to be at least ten or fifteen beds in that place!"

   Ramona didn't have to try to blush.  It was easy.  Renee was so blatant
about her innuendo.

   "Renee!" she scolded.  "You're trying to get me to act like a slut."

   "Oh posh!" said Renee.  "All I'm doing is trying to get you to let him
see the woman in you.  You're a sexy, desirable woman, Ramona, and there's
nothing wrong with that.

   Ramona shooed her friend away from her desk and went back to work.  She
noticed that several other employees seemed to be watching her from time to
time, but no one else gave her the third degree.  Frank Peterson did stop
by her desk, but all he said was "I trust everything went well last night?"
When she nodded he grinned like a Cheshire cat and left.

   Everything was fine until a delivery boy came in around ten in the
morning with a dozen red roses.  This time they were for Ramona.  Renee got
to her desk at the same time as he did and plucked the card out of the
little plastic holder it was in before Ramona could get it herself.

   "Thank you for a wonderful night." she read.  She raised an eyebrow at
her friend.  "A wonderful night?" she asked.  "As in ALL night maybe?  Are
you holding out on me Ramona?"

   Ramona stood up and snatched the card from her friend's hand.  "I told
you.  All I got was a kiss on the hand.  I didn't even get a hug.  Get your
mind out of the gutter Renee."

   Renee grinned.  "Well, if he gave you a dozen roses for letting him kiss
your hand, I can't WAIT to see what you get when you finally cave and let
him make you REALLY happy." She skipped off to her desk before Ramona could
make an angry retort.

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

   Robert's proposal weighed heavily on Ramona's mind all morning.  Finally
she took the phone book and leafed through it until she found the number
for the clerk of the Howard County Court.  She waited until lunch, when the
bank was closed and almost everyone was either at lunch or out of earshot,
and dialed the number.

   It she got transferred to three different people before a woman came on
the line who said she took care of adoption records.  Ramona posed as a
family member of someone who had been adopted and wanted to know who her
parents were.

   "I know this isn't what you're going to want to hear," said the woman on
the phone.  "But those records are sealed, and only with a court order can
they be opened."

   "What would it take to get a court order?" asked Ramona, her heart in
her throat.

   "There are very few things that the judge will accept." said the woman.
"In my experience, about the only thing that will usually work is if there
is some medical reason.  By that I mean that the adopted child has some
kind of medical need to know who the parents were so that doctors will be
able to understand how to treat something.  Even that's pretty rare these
days, because medical science has progressed so far." she said
apologetically.

   "No, there's nothing medical.  She just wants to know who her parents
were." said Ramona.

   "I'm afraid that's not going to cut any mustard with the system." said
the woman.

   "So there's really no way to do this." said Ramona, hope surging in her.

   "Well, there are a few special circumstances.  When was the adoption?"
asked the woman.

   Ramona's hope faded just as quickly as it had arisen.  "It was back in
the thirties." she said.

   "Oh, I'm sorry." said the woman, her voice taking on a note of sorrow.
"I didn't realize it was that far back.  I can tell you right now that
there's nothing we can do.  There was a fire in the basement of the
courthouse back in the early 1950s, and the adoption records from before
that were destroyed."

   "There's nothing left?" asked Ramona, shocked.

   "Nothing from before 1951 or so." said the woman.  "I'm really sorry."

   Ramona hung up the phone and stared at nothing.  Even if someone
suspected something, there was nothing to prove who she really was, or at
least who she had been.  Excitement ripped through her and she sat back in
her chair, out of breath.  She'd been holding her breath unconsciously and
now panted.

   For the rest of the day she was like a school girl, who imagines taking
on the name of a boy, and practices writing it out that way, as if she were
already married.  Now she couldn't wait for Robert to contact her.

   But he didn't.

   When she went home that night she thought about stopping at the mansion,
to see him, to scream that she would, indeed marry him.

   But she didn't.

   Instead she went into the house, bursting with the joy of her decision,
and wanting to share it with her children.

   But they weren't home.

   There were two notes on the fridge, one from Debbie that said she had
gone over to Crystal's house, and would be eating dinner there, returning
home not later than nine that night.  The other was from Robby, saying he'd
gone to the pool, would eat out with his friends and come home "sometime
tonight."

   She was so full of energy she couldn't sit still, and trying to do
things around the house didn't satisfy her either.  She had made a habit of
jogging in college, and had kept it up off and on when she got married, but
hadn't run for years, ever since giving birth.  She tied her hair back into
a pony tail and went looking for something to jog in.  In the end she had
to go to Robby's room, where she found his gym shorts hanging off his desk
chair.  She pulled them on, acutely aware that his stiff penis had been
covered by them when she last felt them against her own pussy, and shivered
at the thought.  On a wild impulse she took them off, removed her panties,
and pulled them back on so the cloth would be right next to her pussy. 
Then she put on a tank top over her bra and left at almost a sprint.

   She lasted two blocks before she had to stop, bent over and gasping for
air.  She hadn't known she was that badly out of shape.  After resting she
started again, at a much slower pace, and alternated between jogging slowly
and walking to catch her breah.  It was just what she needed to work off
her excess energy.

   Ramona stayed out for over an hour, waving at people she knew as she
jogged or walked along the streets of Nettleton.  She reveled in the
thought that, to these people, she was just the widow Franklin, a mother of
two nice children, a teller at the bank.

   She jogged up to her own sidewalk just as a car stopped at the end of
the driveway and Robby got out.  He was still in his swimsuit, with a T
shirt on, and his towel around his neck.  She jogged up to him, giddy with
her news.

   "Mom!" he said, his eyes surprised to see her dressed like she was ...
doing what she was doing.

   "Don't look so surprised.  Your old mother used to jog all the time when
she was younger." said Ramona, smiling.

   "I'm not surprised." he said, obviously lying.  "You look good." he said
without thinking.  His face got a little darker.  "Of course ...  um ... 
we already know that." he floundered.

   Ramona noted his obvious reference to the night before, when she had
looked so good that he was painfully erect, but her joy at making her
decision overrode that.

   "Yes we do." she said.  "How good do you think I'd look in a wedding
gown?" she asked.

   Robby's face went through a flitter of different emotions before
settling on a wide grin.

   "Really?  You said yes?" He leaned toward his mother.

   "Well, not yet." she admitted.  "But I'm going to.  Is that really OK?"
she asked anxiously.

   Robby grabbed her in a tight hug.  "Of course it's OK." he said into her
hair.

   The closeness of their embrace suddenly made itself known to them and
the broke apart.

   Somehow it was easier for Ramona to talk about what had happened between
them out here in the yard.

   "About last night." she said.

   "I know" he said putting up both hands.  "I was excited and I was out of
line."

   "Oh!" said Ramona, off balance because he had done what she intended to
do ...  apologize.  "I was excited too.  It was really my fault."

   Robby had long ago reconciled in his own mind that what he and his
sister did was something special to them both, and had rationalized it in
his mind somehow.  But feeling the same kinds of feelings for his mother
had been unexpected and didn't seem believable to him somehow.  He had been
worried about it all day long.

   "Can I ask you something?" he said.

   "Sure, honey." was his mother's immediate response.

   "I know how I feel about Deb.  I mean I know how that happened.  But I
don't understand why I could feel like that about you too ...  last night."
he confessed.

   Ramona found herself asking the same question, to which she had no ready
answer.  But just the fact that it was out in the open, and that he was
willing to talk about it, made her want to try to answer that question for
both of them.

   "Come inside.  Did you eat?  I'm starved after running.  We can talk
about it while I get something to eat."

   He agreed and they went into the house, where Ramona started making
herself a grilled cheese sandwich.

   In the end it was an amazingly frank and open discussion, like two
co-workers, both of whom are married to someone else, but who are attracted
to each other in ways that society would not approve of.  They approached
it by admitting what they had felt, and how inappropriate those feelings
were, but agreeing that the feelings were real.

   "So what do we do now?" asked Robby in the end.

   "I don't think we should just let our emotions run rampant." said
Ramona. "I think that might cause problems." she said, understating how
serious those problems could be.

   "Mom, I have to say that I don't think I can just forget what you felt
like ...  last night." said Robby seriously.

   "Me either." she admitted.  "But we can avoid letting that happen
again." said his mother.

   "Yes.  Definitely." he said.

   "And when you get ...  excited ...  you should talk about that with
Debbie." said his mother.

   "Talk about it?" he asked, his eyebrows rising."

   "You know what I mean." she said, blushing.  "Don't make me say it out
loud to my own son."

   He grinned.  "I love you, mother." he said.  "I want to hug you again
right now.

   Ramona smiled.  "I'd like nothing better myself, but the way I feel
right now, it would be a big mistake."

   Robby's prick lurched in his swimsuit at his mother's admission that she
wanted him the way he wanted her.

   "Where IS Debbie?" he asked suddenly.

   Ramona laughed.  "She'll be home later.  I wanted to tell her about my
decision before I said anything to Bobby, but I don't know if I can wait to
go see him."

   Robby laughed.  "If I have to be horny ...  it's only fair that you have
to be horny too."

   Just then the back door slammed open and Debbie came bouncing through
it, bubbly and happy from her day with her friends.

   "Hey you guys!" she said merrily.  "What's going on?"

   "I need to talk to you." said Robby, grabbing her hand and pulling her
toward the bedrooms.

   "Why's mom laughing so loud?" asked Debbie, stumbling to keep up with
her brother.

   Debbie found out what he wanted to "talk" about quite soon.

   "We can't do this now!" she hissed.  "Mom's right downstairs."

   "Mom knows what we're about to do." said Robby, sliding his swimsuit off
and pulling his shirt over his head.  His penis strained outward, at full
erection.

   "What?" Debbie blinked.  She wasn't ready as her brother grabbed her and
kissed her deeply.

   "Get naked." he ordered tersely.  "I'll tell you about it in a minute."

   Debbie, resistant at first, began to thaw as he got her clothes off of
her and went to work on her nipples with his mouth, and her pussy with his
fingers.  Then he switched to her pussy with his mouth until she writhed
and moaned under him.

   It wasn't until he was balls deep in her that he began to tell her what
had happened.  He had already decided that there was no way he'd be able to
hide how he felt about his mother from his sister, and that the time to
tell her was while he was proving how he felt about HER.

   Robby stayed buried in his sister as he began to tell her what had
happened the night before.

   "You weren't supposed to talk to her about it." panted Debbie, wriggling
her clit against the base of Robby's prick.

   "I know, and then this other thing happened." He told her about the hug,
and the open robe, and the kiss, and how he had felt.

   "I can't believe you." gasped Debbie, on the brink of an orgasm.  "It's
bad enough you do this to your sister ...  Uhhhhhhhhhhnnnnggggg" she was
interrupted by the orgasm.  When it faded enough that she could talk she
went on.  "And now you tell me you wanted to do this to our MOTHER?!"

   "I couldn't help it." he gasped, beginning to move in her as his balls
tightened.  "It just happened and I couldn't control my thoughts."

   "Was she pissed off at you?" asked Debbie, thrusting her pussy up onto
his rigid prick.

   "No, she felt the same waaaaayyyyyyyyy" Robby groaned as his prick fired
spurts of spunk into Debbie's pussy as he ground into her hard.

   Robby lay down on his sister, gently crushing her and kissing her neck
as he caught his breath.  "I felt like I was cheating on you." he said
softly.  "I felt bad."

   Debbie loved the weight of her brother on her, and the warm feeling of
his spend in her.  She wasn't sure she liked the idea that her lover was
horny for her mother, but she didn't quite know WHAT to think about that.

   "So, while you're making a baby in me, you think of her?" she asked.

   He pushed up.  "No!  That's not it at all.  Just now all I was thinking
of was you, and how good you feel.  What do you mean making a baby?" he
asked distractedly.

   "Well we haven't used any birth control since we started doing this."
she said.  "What do you THINK is going to happen?"

   He groaned.  "I don't know.  I thought about it the first time.  But
when you were'nt mad at me I guess I just don't think about that any more."

   "I think you don't think about a lot of things." said Debbie, pushing
him off of her.  She rolled sideways with him.  "I love you, but you're a
real goof sometimes." she said.  Then she grinned.  "So does that mean I
get to be horny over some other guy?  How about Uncle Bob?  He's kind of
cute.  I got all fluttery in my stomach last night when he flirted with me.
What if I wanted to make love with him?  How would you feel then mister 'I
didn't think about it'?

   Debbie might not have been aware of it at her tender age, but there are
men who find it erotic to think about sharing their woman with another man.
Robby probably wasn't aware of that particular kink either, to be honest,
but the reaction he had was that of one of those men.  He felt his recently
deflated prick begin to stir.

   "Would you really do that?" he asked, his voice husky.

   Debbie missed the lurking passion in his voice, intent on continuing to
tease him.  "Maybe" she said, drawing it out.  "How does THAT make you
feel?" she taunted.

   Robby rolled back on top of her, kissing her hotly.  "It makes me want
to do this." he hissed into her hair, hunching his stiffening prick up
against her pussy lips.

   They ended up in another passionate clinch, as Robby humped into her
roughly this time, shaking her with the force of his thrusts.  Debbie flung
her legs wide, her own passions ignited in some hazy way.  She didn't think
about her uncle or her mother.  She just reveled in having her lover's
surging penis inside her as she had another orgasm and felt him add even
more of his dangerous spunk to what had already soaked her vulnerable womb.

   This time, he rolled off of her gasping, limp from expending so much
energy.  Then, as they lay there, hand in hand, he told her the rest of it.
He told her about meeting their mother outside the house, and how they'd
talked about their feelings for each other, and how they'd decided they
couldn't satisfy those feelings.  Last of all he told her that their mother
had decided to marry their uncle.

   Debbie's reaction to that was surprising.  She jumped up, put her
clothing on hurriedly, all the time saying things like "Why didn't you TELL
me?!"

   To which is answer was "I did.  Just now!"

   Which brought her heated "Why didn't you tell me SOONER?!"

   To which his answer was "I was BUSY!"

   Despite the fact that it sounded like she was mad at him, Debbie leaned
over and kissed him on the lips, a hurried, but full-of-love kiss, and then
she dashed out of the door, calling for her mother.

   Ramona, however, knowing what her children were doing in one of the
bedrooms, and knowing what her decision about Robert was, couldn't wait any
longer to go see her brother.  Still dressed in her jogging clothes, she
ran back outside, hopped in her car, and drove the short block to the
mansion.  It was late now, and all the workmen were gone.  She felt funny
knocking, but didn't want to just burst in.  While she was standing there,
her hand poised to knock, the door opened and there was Robert, standing
there.

   "YES!" shouted Ramona.

   "Yes what, my darling?" he teased.

   "You KNOW yes what!" she growled and flung herself at him.  He staggered
as she hit him and then tripped on the oriental rug inside the door,
falling and pulling her with him to the almost inch thick Persian rug. 
Ramona scrambled up on top of him, sitting on his stomach and grabbing his
wrists, which she leaned on to pin beside his head.

   "I love you so much." she said softly.

   Then she kissed him and began blabbering about her fears and the call
she'd made to the court house.  She talked earnestly as Robert lay
listening and then tugged his hands loose, sliding them up inside her tank
top to cup her bra-encased breasts.  Then she told him about what Robby had
said to her as he rolled her sideways and began slowly stripping her
clothes off.  She talked as if he were not making her naked, under the
influence of relief so strong that it caused her to natter on, telling him
about what she'd thought about in the bathtub.  She didn't stop to take
more than a snatched breath until she found herself naked on the rug, her
brother leaning over her and sucking one of her spiked nipples.  The ache
and the pleasure that shot from that nipple throughout her body finally
shut her up.

   "Oh Bobby" she sighed.

   He left her long enough to strip his own clothing off efficiently.

   She suddenly realized her nakedness, and where they were.  "Here?" she
panted.

   "Oh yes my sweet." he grunted, pulling his socks off.

   She wailed as he came to her and thrust into her with no other
preliminaries.  She was sopping wet, she found to her surprise.  She
continued to cry out as he made her crazy with his stiff manhood, probing
her deeply and triggering an orgasm that she wasn't ready for.

   Then he lay on her, moving his whole body up an down hers, grinding her
body into the baby soft fibers of the rug under her and extending her cum
as his pubic bone smashed her clit.

   "I am so happy." he grunted.  "To finally have what I have wanted more
than any other thing." he gasped.  "Will you have my babies sweet Rami?"

   "Oh YES!" she shrieked.  "As many as you want." she cried, as she felt
his seed flush into her.  They rested momentarily as she breathed into his
ear, more softly, "As many as you want" again.

   But it was not comfortable on the floor, soft as the expensive carpet
was.  He rolled off of her and she sat up, a little dazed.

   "The carpet!" she gasped.  "It will be stained!" She clapped her hand
over her weeping pussy mouth, to hold in his copious discharge, and tried
to roll off the carpet onto the polished hard wood floor nearby.

   "Carpets can be cleaned." said Robert pragmatically.  "I am too happy to
worry about something so small and insignificant."

   Ramona laughed.  "Bobby, that carpet probably cost thirty thousand
dollars!" she said.

   "Compared to you it is worth only thirty cents." he sighed, still lying
on the object under discussion.

   Still holding his semen inside her, Ramona reached down and pulled him
up.  Then she snatched her clothes up in her free hand.

   "I ate a sandwich and I'm starving again already!" she said.  "Let's get
something to eat."

   They padded naked through the house to the kitchen, which was now
finished and looked completely different than it had in the old days.  Now
it was a brightly lit and modern place, with state-of-the-art appliances
and gleaming surfaces everywhere.  It was one of the few areas of the house
that Robert had not taken back to it's original configuration and
condition. He pulled cold pizza and sodas from the refrigerator and then
popped the pizza into the toaster oven that was on the counter.

   "Bobby, I need to talk to you about something." said Ramona.  She was
thinking about Robby.  "I don't want to have any secrets from you."

   "I love you, and I care not for secrets." he said, "with one exception."
Both knew what secret he would protect to his very death.

   Worriedly Ramona told him of her feelings for Robby, and what she had
contemplated doing with him, even if only for an instant or two.  She tried
to describe Robby's attraction to her as well.

   "Is there something wrong with us?" she whined.  "Is this the curse of
our family?"

   Robert listened patiently while she unburdened herself, sipping his Coke
now and then.  When she finished he sat a little longer, as if thinking.

   "Let me tell you what I think." he said.  "I knew, long ago, that
brothers and sisters are not supposed to feel about each other as we felt
about each other ...  as we now feel.  Since then I have seen many places,
and many cultures, a few of which allowed this taboo love between
relatives. I saw nothing then that made me want to stop loving you.  What I
think is that, if we love each other, nothing we want to do is a bad thing.
And if Debbie and Robby love each other - really love each other, as you
and I do - then I don't think they will want to do anything that they think
can threaten that love."

   "But to want my son?" moaned Ramona.  "Doesn't that make you crazy?"

   "I look at your son and see a strong young man who many women will want.
I look at your daughter and see a beautiful young woman who many men would
want to carry their babies.  Is this not a natural response to seeing a
member of the opposite sex who has the appearance of a suitable mate?  Is
it so strange that you could be drawn to his ability to father children, or
that I could be drawn to wish I could make Debbie with child?"

   "I thought you were teasing her." said Ramona, realizing that he had
made a confession of his own.

   "I WAS teasing her, but you should know that, at the center of all
teasing, there is a kernel of desire.  Sometimes it is a desire to hurt. 
Sometimes it is a desire to teach.  Sometimes it is a desire to be able to
be closer than circumstances allow."

   Robert got up and pulled the pizza out of the toaster oven.  He put it
on the table, along with two plates and forks.

   "This could be a very strange and interesting marriage." said Ramona,
looking thoughtfully at her brother.

   "I am going to concentrate on making this a glorious marriage." he said.
"Strange is all right once in a while, and interesting is Ok even more
often.  But I want to do nothing that will put a wedge between us."

   "I don't want to hurt you." she said insistently.

   "I can think of nothing you could do that would hurt me except to stop
loving me." he said seriously.  "Perhaps you will explore this feeling you
have with your son ...  perhaps not.  In either case I cannot imagine not
loving you."

   Ramona relaxed.  The one thing she was afraid would unseat her happiness
was something she could now put in the back of her mind.  She had no idea
what would happen, but suddenly she looked forward to everything she
thought was gone forever.  She could love the man she wanted ...  could
live with him and bear him children.

   "It's too bad that Robby and Debbie can't have what we have." she mused.

   "Perhaps that too can be arranged, in a way." suggested Robert.  "They
can live with us as long as they wish.  What goes on in this house need not
be common knowledge."

   "They may not want to." said their mother.

   "That, too, is fine." said their uncle.  "They may draw apart, as we
did, and find other love.  You were happy with Richard, yes?"

   "Yes." she admitted.  "I loved Richard very much."

   "They too may find that kind of love.  They may wish to go to college.
They may wish to travel.  Those are discussions that must be had, but there
is plenty of time."

   Then there was discussion about the immediate future.  Ramona was
instructing him that his seduction of her must appear normal to people they
knew.  She couldn't just agree to marry him after only one or two dates. 
That would be too odd.  They were making plans on how to advance the
courtship when the front door opened and Debbie's tentative voice came down
the hall.

   "Mom?  Uncle Bob?" she called.

   "In here." yelled Ramona, checking to make sure she looked normal.  She
saw there was a stain in the crotch of Robby's gym shorts and scooted
further under the table.

   That didn't work, though, because Debbie was too excited and wanted to
hug her mother.  Then she wanted to hug her uncle.  She was flushed, part
of it the residual effect of having had multiple orgasms, but primarily
from running through the woods to get there.  Ramona had to stand up to get
her hug and then didn't think to sit back down as she grinned to see Debbie
flinging herself against her uncle and kissing him on the cheek.

   It was when Debbie turned around again that Ramona saw that Robby's gym
shorts were not the only shorts in the house that were stained with a man's
semen.  Debbie had put her shorts on immediately after having been filled a
second time with her brother's spunk, and it had drained into and stained
the shorts she was wearing in the same kind of pattern as Ramona's were
stained.

   Ramona's hysteria at being happy burst into a laugh.

   "What?" asked Debbie, looking around.

   "We need to go change our pants." said her mother with a straight face.
"Both of us."

   Debbie looked down at her own light blue shorts, with the dark stain in
the crotch, and then at shorts she recognized as Robby's, but which were
being worn by her mother, and which were also stained like hers.  She
blushed beet red.

   "Oh Gosh!" Debbie moaned, covering her eyes with her hands.

   Robert stood, grinning.  "Go on.  I'll see you tomorrow, when I ask you
for another date."

   Ramona pulled her moaning daughter back to the front door and to the
car. She laughed again as she thought that it was a good thing she had
naugahyde seat covers.

   Chapter Fifteen

   Following their plan, Robert visited Ramona at the bank again two days
later, and asked her out to dinner again, this time as his treat.  They
laughed when Robert described how he had tried to make a reservation at
"Mom's Diner" which, he had been assured by the men working on his house,
was the best place in town to eat.  Frances Dilley, otherwise known as
"Mom", and owner of Mom's Diner, had laughed out loud.  "You're not from
around here, are you?" he mimicked Frances saying.

   The morning after their dinner date, Ramona held her co-workers
spellbound by her description of what had happened.

   "We got there and there were no cars in the parking lot.  I was afraid
there had been a mistake and the place was closed!" Ramona told them. 
"Them the door opened and Mrs.  Dilley came out and took us in.  He rented
the whole diner for the night!" Ramona didn't have to pretend to be
flattered.  Robert hadn't told her he was going to do that.  Robert had
admitted that he asked "Mom" how much she made on the average Friday night
and then offered her five times that amount to serve just the two of them.
"There were four men in there with violins and guitars and I don't know
what all, and Mrs.  Dilley served us herself.  It was just amazing!"

   "How romantic" sighed Agnes Green.

   "Did he kiss you?" asked Renee.

   "Renee!  I'm shocked you'd even ask that." said Ramona, trying not to
giggle.  "I will tell you this, though.  I like him.  We have fun together.
He tells the most amazing stories."

   Three days later the mood at the bank was almost the opposite.  Renee
brought in a newspaper that had a picture of Robert with another woman. 
The headline was "Local millionaire samples night life" and there was a
story about how Robert had come back from what the paper called his world
travels, and was renovating his ancestral home in Nettleton, which was, in
fact, named for his family.  The woman with him was identified as Lucinda
Johnson, daughter of Magnus Johnson, who owned and operated the Johnson
Furniture Emporium.  The couple were attending a benefit fund raiser for a
local orphanage, but she wore a slinky dress, and was covered with jewels
and looked very much the part of a rich man's escort.

   "That dirty dog is running around behind your back Ramona." snarled
Renee, throwing the paper down on Ramona's desk.

   Ramona was well aware that Robert was going to "take out" other women as
part of his role playing, but seeing the smiling buxom woman on his arm
still caused her gut to clench.  It showed and Renee became a commiserator
instantly.

   "Don't you worry about it baby." she said to Ramona.  "There are other
fish in the sea.  If he comes in here again I'll throw him out myself!"

   Ramona smiled.  "Renee, he's a grown man and he can date whoever he
wants.  I like him, but I don't own him.  And don't you dare throw him out
either.  I may not be exotic and beautiful like her," she slapped the
paper, "but I'm the better pick and I think he's smart enough to see that."

   Renee agreed vociferously.  "You're right.  You're better than that
blond bimbo any day, and if he's not smart enough to see that then you
don't need him!"

   That night Ramona reported the conversation to Robert, who identified
the woman in the picture as the daughter of a man who had approached him to
do business with.  Robert, having problems finding "women to forward our
plan" had agreed to escort the man's daughter to the benefit.  Robert
laughed about how the man tried to use his own daughter to seal a deal that
Robert had no intention of entering into.

   When Robert came into the bank the next day, he waved nonchalantly to
Ramona, and went to a teller cage to do some business of some sort.  Then
he went and stuck his head into Frank's office, glad-handing like a
politician.  It was then that he went to Renee's desk and tried
unsuccessfully to make small talk with her.  Renee was frosty, and kept her
eyes on her work most of the time.

   Finally Robert sauntered over to Ramona's desk.

   "And how is my favorite financial Wizard doing today?" he asked, loudly
enough for several people, including Renee, to hear.  Renee rolled her eyes
in an exaggerated manner at Ramona.

   "Why I'm fine, Robert ...  may I call you Robert?" she said sweetly.

   "I would be devastated if you did not." he said smiling.  "And when will
you grace me with your company again, if I may be so bold?" he asked
formally.

   The newspaper Renee had given her was lying on her desk, where she had
left it intentionally.  "Why Robert, it appears that you have plenty of
company.  When would you ever be able to fit me in?" She let her fingers
drift over the paper.

   Robert laughed.  "Ramona, let there be no mistake.  I would rather spend
one evening with you than ten with women like that." he said.  "You are
interesting, and beautiful and you laugh at my horrible jokes.  I have
tomorrow night open ...  and the night after that ...  and the next night
too.  Please, have pity on me." he pleaded.

   "You're a charmer, I'll give you that." sighed Ramona.  She had the urge
to giggle so much that she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop it.
"All right.  I haven't been roller skating in years.  Do you roller skate
Robert?"

   Robert looked stricken.  "I will learn!" he said.  "Surely such a thing
cannot be so difficult.  I understand that hundreds of people do it."

   The date was made and Robert left, shaking hands with everyone he could
reach.

   Renee was at her desk before the outside door closed.  "Are you really
going to take him skating?" she asked.

   "Sure" said Ramona.  "Why not?  He's just a man.  Why don't you and Ted
come along too?"

   "I might just do that." said Renee.  "I'll suggest that if he isn't a
little nicer to me I might feel inclined to get to know Mr.  Robert
Nettleton a little better.  It doesn't hurt a bit that he's cute too." She
giggled as Ramona chided her for being mercenary.

   In fact, by the time Robert escorted Ramona into the "Skate Inn", there
was a sudden resurgence of interest in roller skating by a surprising
number of adults, most of whom worked at the bank, or were married to
someone who worked at the bank.

   It was a riot.  Robert had never had skates on in his life, while Ramona
had gone skating with Richard quite often, and was really quite good.  She
unfailingly picked Robert up off the floor each time he crashed down, and
steadied him as he rolled along uncertainly.  Her co-workers helped pull
him up too.  By the end of the evening he was able to stay up most of the
time as she pulled him, hand in hand, around in circles.  Everybody went
out for drinks at Duffy's Tavern when it was all done.  Robert didn't act
at all stuffy.  He also made sure he told some very horrible jokes.

   From there it was just a matter of making sure that people knew Robert
took Ramona out more than he took any other woman out.  Then their plan
moved to the phase where he took only Ramona out.

   No one was surprised, when, three months later, Robert Nettleton
proposed marriage to Ramona Franklin.

   Ramona's wanted Renee to be her maid of honor, with Debbie as the only
other bridesmaid.  That decision was relatively easy.  In thinking about
Robby, however, Ramona's feelings were much more conflicted.  That was the
result of reflection on the feelings she had recently discovered for her
son, and her discussion about that with Robert.  Her un-motherly attraction
to him, in a way, made her feel like she was closer to him than any man
other than Robert himself.  In that sense, she felt like that, when she
married Robert, she would distance herself from something very special by
"leaving" Robby.  In a philosophical moment she decided that it was
appropriate, in a very private way, for Robby to give her away.

   With that in mind, she talked with her children about those roles and
said she wanted to spend an evening with each of them, alone, to just talk
about things and settle in everyone's mind what their expectations were for
life in the near and not-so-near future.  What they were doing was a big
decision, and their lives would change considerably because of it.  Ramona
didn't want to lose anything she had with her family as they gained other
things.

   Her night with Debbie was scheduled first.  Robby spent the night with
Mike, who wanted an update on what was happening with the Nettleton mansion
and the crazy hermit they had all seen together, and that left the house to
his mother and sister.

   Ramona and Debbie talked about a lot of things, but two of them were
probably more important than the others.

   "I need to know how you feel about the money." Ramona said, as she ate
spoonfuls of ice cream out of her quart of Rocky Road, while Debbie did her
best to destroy a quart of Butter Brickle.

   "Well, we've never really had a lot of money." said Debbie.  "I don't
know what it will be like."

   "Do you think you'll just be able to buy whatever you want?" asked her
mother.

   "That would be nice." said Debbie.  "But I've seen some of the rich kids
at school, and they seem ...  empty somehow.  At least sometimes.  It's
hard to explain."

   "It's important to me that you stay who you are." said Ramona.  "I don't
want money to become too important to you."

   "I think if we talk about that, it will be OK." said Debbie.  "Even
though I argue with you a lot, I think you're pretty smart for an adult."
said Debbie smiling.  "You usually give me pretty good advice."

   "OK, we'll agree to talk things out then." said Ramona.  "Now, what
about Robby?" she asked.  "I have some advice for you about that."

   Debbie shifted uncomfortably in the overstuffed armchair she was
currently occupying.  "I love him mother." she said.

   "I know that, and I understand that.  But what you two are doing has
real consequences." said Ramona patiently.  "Things have been so crazy that
we haven't taken care of protection yet.  And I suspect you two haven't
decided to stop for a while until that gets done."

   Debbie had the grace to blush, but didn't confirm her mother's
suspicions.

   Ramona bored on.  "What, for instance, are you going to do if he makes
you pregnant?"

   Debbie was silent for what seemed like a long time.  "I have mixed
feelings about that." she finally said.  "Part of me is horrified at the
thought of being pregnant at all.  I mean that would change so many things.
But part of me thinks that having Robby's baby in me would be the neatest
thing in the whole world.  I love him so much it hurts sometimes."

   "That's one of the things the money changes." said Ramona.  "What I mean
is that there won't be any financial burden on you.  In theory you can have
all the babies you want to.  We can hire a live-in nanny to help you take
care of them.  That part is easy.  But having children changes your life
radically because then they are the most important thing and you have to
sacrifice some of the other things you might want to do."

   "Like what?" asked Debbie.  Talking with her mother about this was
something she hadn't thought she could do, but she found, to her surprise
that it was not only easy, but immensely relieving too.

   "Like meeting another man you like, and already having children that he
may not feel drawn to because they aren't his." said Ramona.  "Like not
being able to go to college because you have a family to take care of."
Ramona thought some more.  "Like being in a relationship with a man who you
can't kiss in public, or acknowledge as the father of your children.  Like
being thought of as a slut because you have children out of wedlock.  You'd
be living a secret life, and that's not easy." she finished.

   "Good points" admitted Debbie.  "But I'll argue with you about some of
them." She took another bite of ice cream.  "For one thing, I love Robby so
much that I'd marry him if I could ...  like you and Uncle Bob.  So I'm not
sure that I'll be interested in other men." She took another bite.  "And,
if I don't have to work, and have help ...  because of the money ...  then
I think I could manage going to college, whether I have children or not."
She frowned.  "I agree that it would be very hard to love Robby in secret.
I do that now, and it's not too hard right now, but you're probably right
about that not being the most satisfying kind of life.  But I don't care
what people think about whether I'm a slut or not.  I think there will be
enough advantages to our lives that they will outweigh that."

   Debbie cocked her head.  "Hey, I have a question for you."

   "Go ahead." said Ramona, still processing what she had heard.

   "What about your money?  I mean I know how you feel about it, but
couldn't it be used to do a lot of good things?"

   "What kind of good things?" asked Ramona carefully.

   "Well, I don't know ...  things like helping people?  I mean there are
all kinds of problems in the world with education and racism and hunger and
stuff like that.  I think it would be kind of cool if we could help with
some of that kind of thing."

   Ramona felt a measure of shock.  It was a combination of not having
thought of that herself, which caused her pangs of guilt, but it was also
surprise that her daughter, on the verge of becoming very wealthy, would be
so unselfish.

   "I think that's a very noble idea." she said.  "I think that's something
we should have a lot more talks about."

   "Me too." said Debbie.

   Then they talked about dresses and wedding arrangements and other things
that mothers and daughters talk about when life is good.

   Ramona's night with her son was almost completely different.  She
intended to come to grips with their feelings for each other, and put them
to bed ...  so to speak.

   Those feelings were put to bed.  But not in the way Ramona had intended.

   She started by explaining why she wanted him to give her away.  She had
no idea whether he would grasp the philosophical reasoning for that, and
was actually surprised when he nodded.

   "I get it." he said.  "I feel kind of the same way.  Knowing that you're
getting married, and I don't think it would matter who you were getting
married to either, I feel kind of like I'm losing you somehow."

   "You'll always be my little boy." she said, chewing.  Tonight there was
no ice cream.  Instead, she had baked hot rolls, because she knew he loved
them, and would eat a whole pan of them if allowed to.  They sat, tearing
little pieces of the rolls off and eating them.  The rolls were so good
that the butter and strawberry jam she'd put out weren't touched by either
one of them.

   "I know that." he smiled.  "But this new feeling ...  it's something I
haven't even figured out yet.  I mean I know I'm not supposed to feel stuff
like that for my own mother ...  but I do.  And now you're getting married
and I'm happy for you.  I think you should do it.  But I think I'm a little
jealous too.  Doesn't that sound stupid?"

   Ramona shook her head.  "No, it's not stupid.  Not to me." She sat, her
feet tucked under her and stared at her son.  "It makes me tingle when you
say you're jealous."

   Robby looked back.  "You know how sometimes you want something really
bad, and it's all you can think about?  You save your money and you dream
about going to buy it, and what it will be like when you have it and all
that."

   Ramona nodded.

   Robby nodded with her.  "It's like that with you.  I'll be in bed, and I
think about ...  things.  Or in the shower.  It happens there a lot too. 
It happened with Debbie that way sort of, except that we did things for a
long time and it just went farther and farther."

   Ramona felt tingles in her belly.  "But sometimes, darling, when you get
what you wanted so much, it turns out not to be what you thought it would
be after all.  Sometimes you get disappointed, or just lose interest."

   Robby blinked.  "Yeah, that's true, if you're talking about a pair of
shoes or something.  But that's not what we're talking about here." he
said. "I mean I know that fantasy isn't like reality, but I can't keep the
fantasies out of my head.  And I'll never know the reality, so I doubt if
I'll ever be able to really let go ...  like you're talking about."

   Ramona's own feelings were remarkably similar.  She had fleeting
fantasies.  Her memory of his smooth chest pressed against her bare breasts
fueled those fantasies.

   "What if you did experience the reality?" she asked suddenly.  "Do you
think then that the fantasies would go away and leave you alone?"

   "Mom, don't tease me." he said.

   "I'm not teasing Robby.  I don't want this to make a wedge between us. I
want you to feel free and at home, and welcome in our new family.  I want
to be able to look at you and hug you and not be afraid that I'm causing
you pain."

   Something in Robby tore loose.  He didn't snap, exactly, but he felt a
release inside him that allowed him to do something that he never would
have contemplated doing before this very moment.  He stood up and pushed
his shorts down, exposing the erection he'd gotten just talking about
fantasies.

   "You don't cause me pain." he said.  "You cause this."

   Ramona felt her pussy squirt.  "I don't want to come between you and
Debbie." she said.  "And I don't want you to come between Robert and me."

   Robby stood there.  "I love you both.  I'll always love you both, even
if we never do anything.  Even if Debbie gets married some day, I'll always
love you both."

   Ramona stood, putting her hot roll on the table beside the chair.  "You
can't give me away if you've never ...  had me." she said.  she was
breathing deeply now.  Her clothing felt suddenly very confining.

   Robby responded, not like a son, used to being subservient to his
mother's control, but as a man, establishing his control over a woman.  It
wasn't a harsh control, or one meant to dominate or dehumanize her.  But he
didn't wait for instructions, or permission, or assent.  He kicked off his
shorts and pulled his shirt over his head.  Then, naked, he went to his
mother and began undressing her as she stood, her eyes closed, trying to
decide whether to help him, or try and stop him.  She kept her eyes closed
as he made her naked.  It wasn't until she felt his lips on one of her
stiff, standing nipples that her eyes popped open and she felt weak.

   He took here there, in the living room, on the couch.  He placed her on
the couch, lying down, one foot on the floor and the other held up by her
ankle, opening her obscenely to his hot-eyed gaze.  His prick dripped with
his excitement.

   First, though, he tasted her, driving his tongue deep between her
swollen pussy lips, and sucking her taste, along with the nubbin that was
her clit.  Her feelings shocked her with their intensity, and she found her
fingers squeezing her nipples as he tended to her pussy.  Suddenly she was
impatient and pulled at his hair.

   No words were needed as he raised his wet face to look into his mother's
eyes.  He moved upward and let his iron hard prick bob, just above her
gaping sex, pausing to savor the sight of his naked and spread mother,
waiting for him to penetrate her.

   Her consent came in the form of her soft hand gripping him ...  aiming
him ...  pulling him to her.

   "I saw you and Debbie in bed." she said softly.  "You were being very
tender with her.  Be tender with me too." she moaned.

   Robby slid his adolescent penis into his mother's adult pussy in one
long, slow push until her hairs and his met and mingled.  Both of them
groaned in a mixture of satisfaction and a desire to feel that again, for
the first time.

   For Ramona, what she noticed most was how Robby filled her, but in a
wholly different way than Robert did.  It had been long enough that she had
a hard time remembering how Richard felt in her, but Robby's adolescent
prick just felt different in some way.  His arms and back felt different
too, as she stroked him, urging him to continue with little pulls and
grips.

   For Robby, it was less controlled mentally.  The hot clasp of the pussy
squeezing his cock was something that made his mother's face appear in his
mind, whether his eyes were closed or not.  As he had not thought of anyone
but Debbie, when he was making love with her, he couldn't think of anyone
but his mother while his prick was buried in her.  He also felt the now
familiar urge to cum, but there was also some kind of brake built in that
demanded that he hear his mother have an orgasm before he spilled his seed.
Part of it might have been because he was moving slowly in her, almost
languidly, pausing at full entry to press hard against her pussy lips and
clit.

   Each time he did that ...  as he pressed hard into her ...  Ramona
moaned "Ohhh baby," in a voice that caused his balls to tighten a little
more each time he heard it.  It was a pure, sweet sound in his ears that
said in a completely affirmative way that she welcomed him inside her.

   They had been silent for so long ...  not counting her mantra of joy ...
that Ramona didn't want to spoil the mood by talking.  Instead she pulled
at his head and kissed him long and deep, and then pushed his head toward
her aching nipples.  He sucked hard, in contrast to his gentle fucking
motions, and her orgasm surprised her, both with its rapid onset and the
depth of the feeling as it built rapidly, increasing the pressure inside
her, but not releasing it.  His deeply probing rod wasn't moving quite fast
enough to bring her off completely, but she waited, letting the pressure
build until she almost couldn't stand it any more and writhed under him. 
She finally had to say something more.

   "Harder now ...  please?" she begged.

   Robby's hips did something instinctive and, instead of going in and out
faster, he went in, leaving only an inch or two outside of his writhing
lover and then rabbit stroked her five or six times rapidly, bouncing off
her clit and jiggling her body with the force of his penetrations.

   Ramona's wail would have sounded like pain and suffering to an observer,
but her tone penetrated Robby's brain and, as her pussy rippled around him,
he gave up and let his seed spill violently and copiously into his mother's
belly.  His own groan sounded like something one would hear through the
walls of a dungeon, accompanied by sounds of his laughing torturer.

   They clasped each other tightly, having shared something beautiful that
they didn't want to end.  Ramona was almost overcome by feelings of remorse
that she had allowed this to happen ...  not because of who they were ...
but because she knew she could never live without this happening to her
again sometime.  Even though she knew Robert would smile and nod if she
asked permission, she hadn't planned on complicating her life this way. 
Another part of her brain screamed a litany of thank yous for the joy she
felt from an almost perfect union with a man she loved dearly.

   Robby's thought process was not as complicated, but arrived at the same
conclusion.

   "I'm not sure ..." he panted "that I'm willing to ...  give you away."
He sagged down, his weight a welcome warmth on his mother's body.

   Part of Ramona accepted what had happened and knew that, somehow, she'd
deal with it.

   "You have to." she panted back.  "It's part of the ceremony." She hugged
him and then giggled.  "I had no idea, my darling.  Debbie is a very lucky
girl." she sighed.

   "Thank you." he said.

   "Oh darling, you're so very welcome." she said, stroking his back.

   There was a moment of awkwardness in Robby's mind as he contemplated
climbing up off his mother's naked body.  "What do we do now?" he asked.

   Ramona let her fingers play with his hair.  "Well, if you're not willing
to give me away yet, then I suppose we'll just have to do this until you
get your fill and change your mind." She giggled again.

   They grabbed fistfuls of hot rolls and moved to Ramona's bed.  It took
them until two in the morning before Robby finally gave up.  Ramona had
been seated on him, riding him to his fifth spurting orgasm, when he pulled
her down for the last time.

   "OK" he gasped.  "I think I can stand the idea now."

   "Good" said his mother, feeling his softening prick beginning to slip
out of her.  "I wanted you to feel that way before I told you that Robert
will understand if, some day, we feel the need to do this again."

   Robby looked at her in surprise.  "What do you mean?" he asked.

   "I told him how I felt about you.  He more or less gave me permission to
explore those feelings." she said softly.

   "Wow." said Robby, feeling much better suddenly about what they'd done
for the last eight hours.

   "How would you feel if Debbie felt the need to explore feelings she had
towards him?" asked Ramona.

   Had she asked him that in the beginning, his response might have been
different.  But now, thoroughly sated for once in his teenaged,
hormone-driven life, the thought didn't threaten him.

   "I don't think she would want to." he said.  "She really hated him at
first.  But, even if she did I don't see how I could justify getting mad
about it."

   "That's a very mature and enlightened attitude." said his mother,
kissing him on the tip of his nose.  "I doubt, though, that Debbie's
attitude would be that enlightened if she found us like this.  We should
spend the rest of the morning in our own beds, don't you think?"

   "I could sleep 'til noon." said Robby.

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

   Robby didn't get the chance to sleep 'til noon, though.  Debbie, having
spent the night at a sleepover with three of her friends, all of whom
talked about boys and the things boys liked to do, came home horny.  She
stuck her head in her mother's bedroom and heard snoring, whereupon she
went to her brother's room to get her itch scratched.

   Robby, thankful that he was young and healthy, managed to scratch that
itch quite well before he sent her on her way and told her not to wake him
up for a week.

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

   Strangely, after their coupling, Ramona found it much easier to control
her emotions regarding Robby than it had been before.  She had so much to
do to get ready for the wedding that she didn't examine this phenomenon in
any particular detail.  If she had, she would have come to the conclusion
that, before she let Robby shoot his virile sperm in her unprotected pussy,
she had been afraid that her feelings for him were founded on lust.  During
the act, however, it became clear to her that she wanted to share something
precious with him ...  and receive that dangerous sperm ...  because she
loved her son on a level that was both deep and honest.

   Knowing that they loved each other, and that if she felt the need to
share that with him again she could, the urgency to "deal" with the
situation was gone.  In one sense it HAD been dealt with, though Debbie's
status in their new family hadn't yet been fully explored.  Ramona thought
about that ...  about the possibility that the teasing that Debbie and
Bobby engaged in might, some day, lead to something more.  She found it
interesting that she wasn't nearly as worried about that outcome as she was
if Debbie found out about her mother and brother and didn't understand what
that was really about.

   Ramona decided to let nature take its own course with Debbie and her
uncle.  If the other issue raised its head, she'd just deal with that when
it happened.

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

   At a family conference, Ramona and her children came to the unanimous
decision that after the wedding, they would move into the Nettleton
mansion. All three were surprised at how easily that decision was made. 
All three were further surprised when Ramona asked her children what other
issues needed to be addressed and no one could come up with anything.  All
was moving smoothly in the Franklin household.

   Debbie took it upon herself to act preemptively concerning the
accommodations.  The morning after that meeting, after her mother had gone
to work, Debbie went to her brother's room.  She was amazed now at how
routine it seemed to crawl into bed with him, wake him with kisses, fondle
him to full erection ...  if he wasn't already that way ...  and then slide
her pussy down gratefully over his throbbing member.  He was always groggy
in the mornings, and she loved to climb up on top of him and ride him.  It
gave her better control over when and where her tingling clitty got rubbed,
and she was able to get him deep enough that the tip of his beautiful prick
prodded that special little place inside her that both hurt and felt
wonderful at the same time.  She could also take her time, because, if he
wasn't on top of her, he couldn't go as fast as he liked to, which
inevitably brought that rush of welcome wet heat spurting out of his penis
sooner than she wanted it to.  True, he was able, on many occasions, to
either keep going, or to be able to go again quite soon, but she loved to
deny herself that wonderful hot feeling, letting the pressure inside her
build until she almost couldn't stand it.  Then she'd squeeze his healthy
young penis in just that special way that she'd learned would make it spurt
almost on command, so that as she had her orgasm, he had his too.

   This morning had been particularly sensational as she felt her brother's
hot sperm painting her pussy.  She kissed him as he mumbled his love for
her, already letting his eyes close to go back to sleep.  She wanted her
pussy to be full of his spunk when she went next door to look at the house
where all this had started.

   She dressed in jeans shorts and a halter top, not to tease anybody, but
because she liked those clothes and they were comfortable.  She had made
the halter top in home economics, because she had to come up with a sewing
project.  She'd made it out of one of Robby's old dress shirts that didn't
quite fit his muscular chest any more.  She'd cut off the collar and
sleeves and folded the shoulder material to make straps.  Then, to impress
her teacher, she'd tailored the cloth to fit her breasts.  It almost looked
like a fancy bra, except for the tails in front, which she used to tie in a
knot in the front, between her breasts.  It was a pale blue color that,
when she first made it, concealed her pink areolas, though it allowed her
nipples to define themselves, especially if they were erect under it.  Her
jeans shorts were cut-offs and thin and white where they cupped her
buttocks.

   It didn't occur to her on a conscious level that she looked like the
very picture of a well-fucked, beaming, healthy young woman, with gorgeous
cleavage and a firm ass.  She didn't think about what the men working at
the manor might think about as she walked through them ...  how her flat
stomach fairly screamed to those men that it needed life inside it, to make
the flatness go away as a baby swelled beneath it.  She never gave a
thought to how, as she had to step over obstructions on the lawn, where
materials were strewn about, that her breasts would bob invitingly as all
eyes watched her walk across the yard to the front door of the mansion. 
Had she heard the groans of the men, or seen them shift their stiffening
cocks in their pants as she walked by, she might have considered dressing
less provocatively.

   But Debbie's mind was awhirl with the anticipation of seeing how the
inside of the house had changed ...  of walking its halls again, this time
as the mistress of the manor.  "Well, ONE of the mistresses, anyway" she
thought as she stepped on top of a pile of long lumber and jumped down on
the other side, making her tender young breasts bounce once and come to a
quivering equilibrium inside the thin cloth of her halter top.

   Two men were working together nearby and Debbie heard one of them mumble
to the other ...  something like "Oh man, and it's only nine thirty.  I
gotta go home for lunch and see Christy." The other man laughed and replied
"SEE Christy?  I never heard it called SEEING before." He laughed again.

   Debbie glanced at them, wondering what they found so funny about lunch.
Then she ran up the stairs to the front door, oblivious of the groans
behind her.

   She peered around, shocked and delighted to see that everything looked
so bright and colorful and ...  alive.  She reached out to touch the
paneling, which glowed with a soft light.  It was bright and she could see
the grain and tones in it now.  Before it had been gray and dull.  The wall
paper and new drapes were so colorful she thought she was in a different
place.  She wandered into the kitchen and gasped at the harvest gold
counter tops and the gleaming matching stove and refrigerator.  A center
island held all kinds of copper pots hanging from a stainless steel rack
that made a roof over it.

   She almost ran to see what her bedroom looked like.  That the "little
girl's" room would be hers, she had already decided.  She hoped that it
would still look like a girl's room.  She passed by the master bedroom and
the "boy's" bedroom to find the door to her room closed.  She pushed it
open and gasped.

   The four poster bed had been completely recovered with new fabric.  It
didn't look strange to her, despite the fact that the fabrics were archaic
in design.  The room she had spent so much time in ...  had experienced so
many new and exciting moments in ...  looked alive to her now.  Her eyes
were drawn to the rest of the room in darting glances as she tried
unsuccessfully to take it all in.

   Her eyes lit on the cedar chest where she had packed away her cherished
special dresses each time after she had worn them during dress up play. 
The chest had obviously been refinished and gleamed with a coating of oil.

   She had her first disappointing feeling as she saw the now beautiful
piece of furniture.  She knew somehow, sadly, that the dresses would be
gone.  Never again would she be able to pull on the sweet smelling old
clothes and parade in front of her brother, pretending to be a princess, or
the mistress of the manor.  She felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

   A sound behind her made her turn quickly, wiping the tear away.  It was
her uncle, standing in the open doorway, leaning negligently against the
jamb.

   "So what do you think?" he asked.  "Is it suitable for a beautiful
teenage girl?"

   Debbie felt conflicting emotions.  She knew it was silly, but she really
missed those dresses.

   "Yes, it's beautiful." she said.

   "Why then do you cry?" he asked.

   Debbie wiped at her cheek again, embarrassed.  "It's nothing.  There
were dresses that I kept in that chest.  I used to wear them sometimes."
she said.

   "My mother's dresses." he said nodding.  "Yes they were beautiful.  You
liked them very much?"

   "Oh yes!" said Debbie, unable to control her burst of emotion.  "I felt
pretty when I wore them."

   "A simple dress could not make you more beautiful than you are now." he
said, bowing.  "But I am glad that I had them cleaned and replaced.  I
suspected that someone had been wearing them."

   "What?" said Debbie, startled.

   "Look inside." he said gently, waving a hand at the chest.

   Debbie went to the chest and lifted the lid.  The odor of cedar spilled
into her nostrils and she saw all her dresses ...  her grandmother's
dresses, she corrected herself.  They had been neatly folded back into the
chest after it was refinished.

   Debbie turned, more tears in her eyes now, and stared at the man she'd
hated, then wanted to hate, and now couldn't hate any more.

   "Still you cry?" he teased.  "I am such a failure." He tried to look
dejected.

   Debbie ran to him and hugged him tightly.

   "Oh thank you Uncle Bob.  You have no idea what this means to me." she
cried.

   "It was but a little thing." he said stroking her hair.  "I have upset
your life, and would do what I can to let you retain as much of it as you
can."

   Debbie turned, one arm still around her uncle and surveyed the room. 
"It really is beautiful." she said.

   Robert looked down into the expanse of teenaged cleavage she had exposed
by turning.  He could see the insides of her breasts.  They looked white
and soft.

   "It is indeed beautiful." he said, smiling.

   Debbie's eyes settled on the dressing table.  It had been dust covered
and streaked when she last saw it.  Now it, too, gleamed with a coat of oil
over its refinished surfaces.  The drawer pulls were shining brass now,
instead of dark green lumps of metal.  The mirror she had looked at herself
in as she played dress up was clean and shining, surrounded by an ornate
gilded frame which before had looked like a dull yellow mass of indistinct
carving.  A doll sat, leaning against the bottom corner of the mirror.  She
had held that doll, and examined it, though she had felt too old to play
with dolls, especially when she and Robby began playing dress up.  The doll
had a porcelain face that was so realistic that it was hard to believe. 
Its clothing had been faded and dirty, and one leg had been torn at the
knee.  Now it looked brand new, having been repaired by a master restorer
of antique dolls.

   Robert saw where she was looking.  "That was your mother's" he said. 
"When we left she cried many times, wanting that doll.  If I could have
come back to get it for her I would have.  But we were not allowed to come
to this place after ...  afterward.  Maybe you should take it to her?"

   Debbie looked up at her uncle and saw the softness in his eyes as he
looked at the doll.  It made her stomach feel fluttery to see that look of
love.

   "Can I give it to her as a wedding present?" she asked.  "I can't think
of anything to get her."

   "I think that would be most perfect." he agreed, smiling.  "Now, to what
do I owe the honor of your visit this fine day?"

   Debbie was suddenly nervous.  She had come here like she still owned
this place.  The changes in it had shocked her as she realized that it was
different ...  so different that it didn't seem like the same house to her.
And yet, it was so familiar that she couldn't help but feel at home in it.
It was like somebody she loved had been in the hospital, about to die, but
had recovered and now looked completely healthy.

   "We decided last night to live here after the wedding." she said.  "I
don't know if I'm supposed to tell you or not.  Mom may want to tell you
herself.  But I just had to come and see ...  to see if it was the same."

   "Alas, it is not the same." admitted her uncle, his arm still around
her.

   "No, but I think that's all right." she said softly.  "It looks so much
better.  It's so pretty and bright." She slumped a little.  "I don't know
if the ghosts will even come back now."

   Her uncle smiled and she saw it out of the corner of her eye.  She stuck
out her jaw.  "We used to talk to them, you know." she said stubbornly. 
"They ...  watched us.  They liked having us here." she insisted.

   "I do not doubt that my ancestors loved having you in this place." he
said seriously.  "So many unhappy things happened here.  I'm sure they were
very satisfied to have happy young people here again." His eyes dipped to
her cleavage again.  "I know I'll be happy to have happy young people
here."

   Debbie saw his eyes and blushed.  "You're a horrible tease, you know
that?  What would my mother say if she saw where you're looking?"

   "She would say that I have wonderful taste in ogling breasts." he said
easily.  "Yours are perhaps as beautiful as hers."

   Debbie blushed harder.  Then she kissed him on the cheek.  "You make me
feel good." she said finally.

   "Then my day has not been wasted." he said, kissing her forehead.  He
looked at her again, this time into her eyes.  "I'm really very happy that
you have decided to do this thing ...  to let your mother and I be happy
... to live with us.  And it is not only because of your beautiful breasts
either." he said, winking at the end.

   Debbie felt giddy at his obviously heartfelt expression of thanks.  She
stepped away from him though, feeling that fluttering in her stomach again.
He was really very handsome in a strange and different way and she felt
unaccountably nervous being so close to him.

   "What can I do to help?" Debbie asked brightly.

   Robert smiled.  "Well, I happen to be talking to the interior decorator
about the bedroom your mother and I will use.  Perhaps you could lend your
expertise on things she likes?  I love her more than life itself, but I've
been gone a long time, and don't know her every day likes yet."

   Debbie squealed with excitement and followed him to the master bedroom.
It too looked different, with the furniture refinished and the wainscot
redone.  The walls above that were bare, though, and the huge four poster
bed in that room was bare as well, without even a mattress on it.  A woman
was standing in the middle of the room making notes on a clipboard.

   There ensued a spirited discussion, primarily between Debbie and the
woman, about how the room should be tricked out.  Debbie, in her own way,
described what the perfect room would look like, thinking of her mother and
the colors she liked and things like that.

   When they were done the woman turned to Robert.  "Well, other than being
a cradle robber, I have to say you have chosen well for a wife.  She has
exquisite taste Mr.  Nettleton."

   Debbie gaped, then blushed, and then started to correct the woman, but
Robert stepped up to her and put his arm around her possessively.

   "I know an exquisite woman when I meet one." he said smiling broadly. 
"Her beauty will complete this house, along with that of her daughter and
son.  I have, indeed, been lucky."

   The woman left and Debbie turned to her uncle.  "Why did you let her
think I was going to be your wife?" she asked curiously.

   "Think about it." said Robert.  "She will not go out and tell everyone
what a sexy young wife I have.  People will gossip about it, and when I
take your mother somewhere people will already be thinking how beautiful
and young she is.  It is a harmless little prank, yes?"

   "I guess so." said Debbie uncertainly.  She didn't think of her mother
as young.  Beautiful, yes, but not young.  Children never do.

   "How did it make you feel that the woman believed you and I would be
married?  That we would do the things married couples do?" he asked.

   Debbie blushed again.  "I ...  I ...  we don't do those things!" she
finally got out.

   "This is a true thing you have said." he nodded.  "But you DO do them
with Robby.  And when people do these things, babies are created.  When
that happens you will be a mother in this house, and almost a wife.  Have
you not thought of this?" he asked, knowing that youth rarely plan further
than next weekend.

   "Well, no" she admitted.  He remained silent while she couldn't help but
think about ...  being pregnant ...  in this house.  "Mom and I talked
about it a little bit." she said, as if proud of herself.  "And if that
happens then I'll try to be a good mother."

   "Then my recommendation to you is to begin thinking of yourself as a
mother now." Robert said firmly.  "If this thing happens, then it cannot be
undone."

   "But ..." Debbie started and then stopped.  She couldn't even think
about having an abortion.  The thought alone made her ill.

   "In this house there are no 'buts'" said Robert.  "If you become
pregnant, the child will be of the Nettleton line.  I would have to resist
in the most vociferous manner should you try to become not pregnant.  This
is a thing you must understand about me.  Your mother and I are the only
Nettletons left, besides you and your brother.  Many children are needed to
carry on this line, and none can be wasted.  This would be true whether it
was Robby's child or that of another."

   Debbie stared at him thoughtfully.  "I could never have an abortion."
she said firmly.  "I don't know why I even thought of that.  But it sounds
as if you want to make me into a baby machine."

   "This is not what I meant at all." he said.  "If you never have a child
at all your mother and I will love you as always.  Having children is your
concern.  But if you decide to do that, I want you to understand that it is
a serious concern, and that others will have a stake in the child's life
too."

   Debbie suddenly thought about the sperm that was still pooled in her
womb at this very moment.  For the first time since she had begun pursuing
an ...  adult ...  relationship, she thought seriously about the
consequences of what was lying in her belly.

   "I will bear, and love and cherish my children." she said in a
surprisingly adult tone of voice.  "I doubt that I'd make a very good
mother right now, but I'll learn whatever it takes."

   "You'll make a better mother now than you might have an hour ago, I'll
wager." said her uncle.  "Your body is ready to provide new life," he said,
looking at her breasts again and making her squirm.  "However ...  you
might want to give some thought to preventing babies until you feel you are
ready."

   "Yes." said Debbie, her spirits suddenly muted.  "I'll think about
that."

   "Excellent!" said Robert boisterously.  "Now, tell me, do you ever eat
ice cream?  I have a freezer full of this delightful treat, and I'll never
be able to eat it all by myself."

   Debbie spent another five hours with her uncle, talking and helping him
make decisions, while the workmen always seemed to need to be around them,
asking questions, or carrying things past the lovely young woman.  Robert
noted their interest and smiled.  There would be many happy women this
night when these men got home and needed to sate their lust.

   Chapter Sixteen

   That night, when Ramona got home, she was preoccupied with wedding plans
and sat at the kitchen table with stacks of lists and invitations and other
things associated with the wedding.  When Debbie offered to help her she
waved her hand, saying that it was fun, even though she didn't look like
she was having that much fun.

   Debbie took her brother and pulled him to her bedroom.

   "I love you." she told him, standing in front of him almost close enough
that her breasts touched him.

   "I know that." he said in typical male ignorance of what a woman wanted
when she said that.

   "Do you love me?" she asked.

   "Of course I do.  You know that." he said, digging himself even deeper
into a hole he had no idea was forming around him.

   "Do you love me enough to not make love to me for a while?" she asked.

   "What?" he said, unsure what that meant.

   "Do you love me enough to not make love to me for a while?" she
repeated. It didn't help that her fingers were toying with his shirt
collar.

   "Um ..." Robby knew suddenly that there was a right answer, but, for the
life of him he didn't know what it was.  He had a suspicion that he should
respond in the affirmative, but was afraid to say "Sure, no problem"
because that sounded like he didn't cherish what they shared.  And he DID
cherish what they shared - a lot.

   "How long is a while?" he asked.

   "I just need to do some thinking.  We haven't been using anything to
stop me from getting pregnant.  I've been thinking about that.  That might
be a problem, you know?"

   When it comes to problems, the difference between men and women is that
women want to talk about the problem, while the men want to just solve it
and move on.

   "So have mom get you some birth control pills." he suggested helpfully.

   "You don't want me to have your baby." Debbie said.  Her voice rose at
the end of the sentence, as if it were a question.  But it didn't sound
like a question somehow to Robby.

   Robby, like his sister, hadn't really thought at any length about what
could happen as a result of what they did.  There had been a time or two
that he had fantasized his sister with a swollen belly, but it was hard to
put her face on that body.  It just wasn't her.

   "I don't know." he finally said.  "I haven't thought much about that."

   "That's why we need to take some time and think about ...  things." said
Debbie.  "I don't want to get all pregnant and then find out you don't want
to be a father." Her voice was rising steadily.  "I don't want to ruin my
life, and give up everything just so YOU can do what boys ALWAYS want to DO
to girls!" Somehow Debbie had gotten mad.  The fact that she had six or
seven hours of think time that Robby wasn't aware of didn't cross her mind.
SHE had thought about the consequences, and somehow expected HIM to have
thought about them too.  She was beginning to think more as an adult.  He
just hadn't caught up with her.

   Robby didn't know what was going on, but he knew that tone of voice.  In
the past he had just run and hidden, waiting for her to calm down.  But he
DID realize that this was a serious subject, even if he hadn't taken the
time to think much about it.

   His hands came up and gripped her shoulders.  She tried to pull away but
he held her tightly.

   "Look, I love you.  I don't want you to be mad at me.  Whatever you want
me to do I'll do, but don't just get mad.  If you don't want to get
pregnant, then fine.  If you DO want to get pregnant then I'll ...  I don't
know what I'll do, but it will be the right thing.  If you want to wait and
stop then I'll do that too.  Just tell me what you want."

   Debbie heard the honesty and care in his voice, even if he wasn't very
eloquent about it.  She felt those flutters in her stomach again and
suddenly wanted to go to bed ...  and not alone.

   "That's the problem." she moaned.  "I don't KNOW what I want to do.  I
don't know what to ask YOU to do.  I just need some time to think about
this and talk about this and decide."

   "Then that's what we'll do." said her brother simply.  "I can live with
that."

   She kissed him then, hope surging in her heart that somehow everything
would be all right.

   When the kiss broke Robby looked at her.  "Can we start not doing it
tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

   She didn't get mad.  She laughed instead.

   "I'll do something for you that we used to do a lot.  And you can do it
for me too.  But that's as far as we can go, OK?"

   "I'm your man." Robby said, striking a pose.

   They did end up in bed then, naked and panting.  But their heads were at
opposite ends as they loved each other with their mouths.  They lasted a
long time, dragging it out.  In the end it was Robby who had to stop her
from sitting down on his hard prick.

   She cried.

   But it was tears of happiness.

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

   To the delight of the workmen, Debbie began spending a lot of time at
the Nettleton mansion.  She didn't tell her mother, because she was
arranging things at the house and wanted to surprise her.  She told Robby
what she was doing when he got curious about where she went all day, and he
started going with her.  He began to work with his uncle on refurbishing
the root cellar, making it into a more useful place, with a new roof and
door that could be secured.  Robert didn't want any workmen in that space,
because he didn't want anyone to know about the secret entrance to the
mansion.

   And, as they worked together, as often happens when people share a task,
they became friends.

   The next month passed amazingly quickly, considering that neither couple
was engaging in sexual intercourse.  For Robby and Debbie it became a sort
of game in a way, to see which one would be the first to ask for more than
oral sex.  Debbie taunted her brother, while she sucked on his cock,
milking his balls for their fruit.  She told him she'd made her decision,
but that she wasn't going to act on it until the wedding.  When her mother
started her new life and began using her old name, Debbie would begin her
new life too, with Robby.  She wouldn't tell him what her decision had
been.

   For Ramona and Robert, it was more of an attempt to build the suspense
until they could be together as husband and wife.  Ramona went to the house
a few times, but the temptation to drag Robert into a bedroom and fuck his
brains out was too much.  It was easier just to stay away and meet him for
dates in public, where it was easier to control herself.

   Ramona was also doing something else, that no one knew about.  She
contacted an attorney at the home office of the bank, which was in another
state.  As a representative of the bank, and as handler of the Robert
Nettleton account, she asked, on his behalf, what his sister would have to
do to satisfy the bank, so that she could make withdrawals from her
account. The attorney did the research into the account, which had not been
touched since 1951, when an order was received to pay Elizabeth Nettleton's
tuition at a college.  The lawyer wrote back to Ramona that all that would
be required legally was an updated signature card, which could be supplied
either by having Ms.  Nettleton come to the bank and execute it there, or
by having her provide a duly notarized card in the mail.  Once the new
signature was received, she could access funds again with no problem.

   Twelve days before the wedding, Ramona announced that she had to go on a
short trip.  One of her girlfriends from college was getting remarried and
wanted Ramona to be there.  She'd only be gone from Friday to Sunday. 
Everything for her own wedding was on track.

   Being in the house alone together was nerve wracking for the twins. 
Robby had dreams of forcing his sister and was so upset by them that he
asked his Uncle Bob if he could stay at the manor the rest of the weekend.
He told his sister exactly why he was doing this, and apologized, even
though he couldn't control his dreams.

   Ramona, who really did visit her old college roommate, didn't have to go
to a wedding because there wasn't one.  Michelle was happily married with
three children.  But Michelle was a licensed Notary Public, who knew Ramona
Shanks was also Elizabeth Nettleton.  Things like that are almost
impossible to hide from one's roommate, and secrets are often shared in the
dark of night when sleep comes slowly.  Ramona was nervous about her plan
only because she had to tell Michelle about the incestuous marriage.  The
only reason Ramona felt she could do this was because, in the dark of
night, back in college, the secrets Michelle shared with Ramona involved
lurid descriptions of her love affairs with her father and two brothers,
all of whom hoped she would graduate college and come back home.  While
Michelle loved all three men, there was competition between them for her
that she didn't love, and she decided to live a more normal life.

   But Michelle would understand why Ramona was doing what she was doing.
And more importantly, she'd keep her mouth shut about it.

   Michelle notarized the new signature card, placing various stamps and
seals on it and mailed it to the Carver State Bank in Nettleton herself. 
She charged Ramona one dollar for processing the document.

   Then Michelle, who worked for a tax attorney, began filling out the
paperwork for the other thing Ramona wanted to do.  That process would cost
ten thousand times as much as the notarizing of the signature card, and
then roughly five or six thousand dollars a year after that in
administrative and legal fees.  But the law office would provide all the
help needed for Ramona's plan for as long as it was needed.

   Kissing Michelle on the cheek, Ramona drove back to Nettleton to get
married.

   The wedding was scheduled for the fifteenth of September.  That was
because that was the date that Elizabeth and Robert were reunited in foster
care after being separated at boarding school.  By sheer chance, that was
one day after the twins celebrated their sixteenth birthday.  Ramona and
Robert talked to the kids about why they wanted that particular day for
their wedding.  Both kids didn't care about the proximity to their birthday
and, since this was their first birthday since they had ...  consummated
... their relationship, they even thought it was kind of appropriate.

   The birthday celebration was a quiet affair, amidst the storm of emotion
that surrounded the wedding.  That was OK too.  Ramona was busy with last
minute wedding arrangements, but took time at lunch to have a small party.
After that, Robert drove them to the Driver's License Office, where they
took the test and were issued brand new licenses.

   Then the kids were left to their own devices for the rest of the day. 
Debbie, just dripping mystery, told Robby that she had ordered his birthday
present in a catalogue, but that it hadn't arrived yet.  He tried to find
out what it was, but she wouldn't budge.  Robby, at the suggestion of his
mother, had gotten Debbie flowers.  He had gone to the florist shop on
Broadway.  It had been hilarious.

   "Yes, can I help you?" asked the middle aged woman behind the counter in
the sweet smelling store.  Her name tag said "Madge".

   "Uh ...  yeah ...  I need some flowers." said Robby.

   "Wonderful!  What kind of flowers do you want?" asked Madge.

   Robby blinked.  "Um ...  I don't know.  What kind do you have?"

   Madge stifled her groan.  "How about this?  Who are these flowers for?
What's the occasion?"

   "Oh!" said Robby.  "It's my sister's birthday."

   "I see" said Madge.  She'd made up literally thousands of bouquets of
flowers, but flowers for a teenaged boy's sister's birthday was a new one
for her.  "And how much do you want to spend?" she asked.

   "Gee," said Robby.  "I didn't think about that." He pulled out his
wallet and peered inside.  He pulled out three crumpled one dollar bills.
"How much are flowers anyway?" he asked.

   Madge sighed.  "You've never done this before, have you?"

   "Done what?" asked Robby, looking from the three dollars to Madge.

   "Gotten a woman flowers." said Madge.

   Robby ducked his head.  He didn't know why, but suddenly he felt like he
was supposed to have gotten somebody flowers a lot of times already, and
dropped the ball.  "Uh ...  I don't guess I ever did." he admitted.

   Madge eyed the bills in his hand.  "How about I put a nice rose in a bud
vase and put a ribbon around it and you can give that to your sister.

   Robby thought about that.  He remembered how happy Debbie had been when
Uncle Bob had given her a whole bunch of flowers, and one didn't seem like
very much to him.

   "How much would a whole bunch cost?" he asked.

   "Of roses?" asked Madge.

   Robby had a flash of brilliance.  "Yeah, like maybe sixteen of them."

   Madge eyed the boy.  "Now you're talking closer to fifty dollars." she
said.

   "FIFTY DOLLARS!" yelped Robby.  "I don't have fifty dollars!"

   Madge wanted to chuckle.  The boy looked so distressed.  "Well, they're
three dollars apiece." she said.  "Look, I'll give you two roses and the
vase for the three dollars you have.  I need to get back to work.  I have a
ton of things to do.  There's a big wedding tomorrow and I've never handled
anything that big."

   Robby was still shocked by the idea that sixteen flowers could cost that
much.  Her comment gave him something to say.  "Yeah, that's my mom's
wedding."

   Madge blinked this time.  "Your mother is Ramona Franklin?"

   Robby nodded, looking at his three crumpled bills.

   Madge's attitude changed dramatically.  "How would you like to earn the
flowers?" she asked.

   Robby looked up at her.  "Earn them?  How?" he asked.

   "I have to get so many flowers over to that mansion that it's going to
take four or five trips in the station wagon.  You help me get them all
over there and I'll make you up a nice bouquet of flowers for your sister.
Are these flowers for the wedding too?" she asked.

   "No" said Robby.  "It's her sixteenth birthday today.  That's why I
thought about sixteen flowers."

   Madge sighed.  What a sweet boy to think of his sister's sixteenth
birthday like that.  She exploded into action and directed Robby, who
loaded up the station wagon and rode with Madge to the Nettleton mansion.
Madge had a sort of map of where everything went, both in the house and
outside on and around the gazebo.  It took six trips in all, but when they
were done Robby left the shop with a long white box containing sixteen pink
roses and two dozen long stemmed red roses, artfully bound together with
ribbons and baby's breath.

   "I think she'll like these." said Madge, handing the box to Robby.

   "You don't think she'll be upset because there's no vase?" asked Robby.

   "Trust me" said Madge.  "If you weren't her brother you'd get a whole
lot more than a thank you kiss on the cheek."

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

   It was a fairy tale wedding.  The weather was beautiful, with a dark
blue sky filled with fluffy clouds.  The weather had cooled enough that the
heat wasn't as oppressive as it had been only a few weeks before.  There
was a light breeze, but really all that did was make the decorations move
around a little.  As much trouble as Ramona had gone to to plan this
wedding, there were only fifty or sixty guests present when the ceremony
began.  Everyone from the bank had come, of course, and another dozen
people Ramona had become acquainted with over the years.  Sixteen
missionaries from Robert's old group showed up.  They brought with them a
quilt just like one of the ones Ramona had made and given away.  Hers had
been used as a pattern and dozens had been produced with painstaking labor
in a village thousands of miles away.  Making them had become the primary
income producing venture for a group of widows in the village.  There were
differences, primarily the design in the center of the quilt, which was a
beautiful rendition of an African looking pair of masks, stitched in
beautiful detail.  Robert laughed when he saw them, and explained that they
were fertility symbols.

   The wedding itself was simple and quick.  The orchestra played, and
Debbie and Renee strolled up the walk to the stairs of the gazebo, where
they met Robert and a man named Theodore Stapinski, who flew in from
Pakistan to be Robert's best man.  They had served together as missionaries
and Theodore had once saved Robert's life.  Ramona emerged from a striped
tent that had been set up as a dressing room for her.  She had opted for a
formal gown, rather than a wedding dress, and she was beautiful in it,
escorted by her tall, handsome son.

   Afterwards there was a reception in the house.  No one other than
craftsmen had been in the house yet, so there was a great deal of
excitement.  People gawked at the double curved staircase that led up from
the foyer, which was full of flowers and a table with gifts on it.  A
buffet had been set up in the dining room, with chairs for about thirty
people there.  Others took their food and spread out into the parlor, and
living room, and even some in the kitchen.  No one in Nettleton had been in
a house like this, and they all loved hob-nobbing with what they thought
was the richest couple in five counties.  Little did they know, but Robert
and Ramona were, in fact, the richest couple in more like five states.

   Ramona pulled Robert to the table of gifts and opened them, while Renee
wrote notes in a little book about who each gift was from so that Ramona
could send thank you cards later.  Debbie waited until all the other gifts
were opened and then handed her mother one last box from under the table.

   "It's from me." she said.  "Well, sort of.  I had some help."

   Ramona opened the box, and when she saw the doll she froze.  Tears
welled up in her eyes and she reached into the box to stroke the doll's
face with one finger.

   "I thought she was lost." said Ramona, her voice catching.

   "I played with her when I was little." said Debbie.  "I didn't know she
was yours then." She whispered the next part "Uncle Bob fixed her up and
thought you'd like to have her back."

   Debbie got a hug and left streaks of mascara on her cheeks and lipstick
to go with it.

   "Oh!" said Ramona.  "I almost forgot.  I got you something too.  I'll be
right back.  She walked quickly to the roll top desk in the den and pulled
out a large envelope, which she carried back to the foyer.

   "You said you could think of ways to help people.  Now you'll have your
chance." Ramona handed Debbie the envelope.

   Curiously, Debbie opened the packet and pulled out a thick sheaf of
papers.  The cover sheet had a large stylized "F" on it, under which were
the words: "Charter of the Franklin Group".  That was followed by what
looked like paragraphs of legal language, with sentences beginning with
"Whereas".

   "I don't understand." said Debbie, leafing through the documents.  It
would take a long time to read them all.

   "I set up a foundation for you.  It's a non profit philanthropic
organization for the disbursement of funds for worthy causes.  I put some
of my money in an account for the foundation to use.  You're the chairwoman
of the group.  You'll have to put together a board of directors, and hire a
staff and rent some office space.  Then you and your board will have to
decide which causes deserve to be funded and all that.  It's going to be a
lot of work.  I may not have done you any favor at all, but I want you to
have the chance to do good with the money."

   "How much money?" asked Debbie, still shuffling papers.

   "I started with twenty million." said Ramona, like she was talking about
marbles, instead of dollars.  "The group will have to do some fund raising
and investment to replenish funds you disburse."

   Debbie's mouth fell open.  She swayed and Robert, who had been watching
events unfold with barely suppressed delight, steadied the girl.

   "Twenty million ...  dollars?" asked Debbie, her voice cracking.

   "It's about a quarter of my inheritance." said Ramona, smiling.  Bobby
warned you that money could be an unsettling thing." She hugged her
daughter.  "We'll help you, of course.  That much money will bring out the
sharks, but I think you'll do well.  Are you up to the challenge?"

   Debbie sagged into her mother's arms.  "I have no idea.  I think I might
have peed my pants.  I need to sit down Mommy."

   Debbie sat, staring at the papers in her hands, as the orchestra started
playing and people danced.  Robert and Ramona danced first, and then four
or five other couples joined in.  When the second tune started Robby tapped
his uncle on the shoulder.

   "Can I dance with my mother?" he asked.

   "Most assuredly." grinned the man, and stepped away.  It was a slow
dance and they danced closely.  Ramona pressed herself against him, her
lips by his ear.

   "Thank you my darling." she said.

   "What for?" he asked.

   "For being you ...  for loving me ...  for giving me away." she said.

   "I still wish I hadn't done that." he joked.

   Ramona squeezed him.  "When we get back from the honeymoon I think you
and I will find some time to spend together." she whispered.  She pushed
her mons against him gently.  "I think you'll find that while you gave me
away, you won't have lost me."

   Later, his dick still stiff from dancing with his mother, Robby asked
Debbie to dance, also during a slow number.  They maintained a respectable
distance as they saw people smiling at brother and sister dancing at their
mother's wedding.

   "Your birthday present got here today." said Debbie, smiling widely.

   "What is it?" he asked.

   "I can't tell you that!" she giggled.  "Birthday presents are a
surprise. You wouldn't be surprised if you knew what it was when you see
it."

   "Can I have it now?" he asked.

   Debbie shook her head.  "It's private, between you and me.  Well, I
guess mom and Uncle Bob could see it, but nobody else." she said.  "We'll
wait until the guests leave.  You're a big boy.  Be patient."

   Robby also danced with a number of other women, mostly from the bank. 
He enjoyed holding them in his arms and swaying to the music with them. 
They, in turn, enjoyed being held by a strong young man who they didn't
have to worry about.  They danced all the closer because of that and more
than one left the wedding to drag their husbands back to their bedrooms.

   The reception was planned to end at four in the afternoon.  That was for
two reasons.  First, the newlyweds had a plane to catch, and didn't want to
have to hurry to get to the first leg of their four day honeymoon.  That it
was only four days was because Ramona had decided she didn't want to quit
work.  Not yet, anyway.  A lot of her social structure was underpinned by
her friends at the bank, and she didn't want to abandon that.  And she
insisted that she receive no special benefits at work either, because of
who she was now married to.  She only had four days of vacation left for
the year, and that was all she asked for.

   The other reason was that, if they kept the guests longer, it would run
into the supper hour, and Ramona and Robert wanted their first married
supper to be a family supper.  That meant that the reception ending needed
to be backed up to a time that would allow Ramon to prepare supper, and for
the four of them to eat it without haste.

   A bell rang and the guests lined up to file past the Nettletons and
their two teenaged children.  A few of the men claimed a kiss from the
bride, who gave them out willingly, not minding strange lips pressed
against hers for such a short time.  Several of the ladies hugged Robert,
but none tried to kiss him, with one exception.

   Renee was last in line, her husband preceding her.  When he kissed
Ramona firmly on the lips, she suggested that what was good for the gander
was good for the goose and reached her lips up to Robert.

   Ramona had told him what Renee had said about him in prior months and so
he gave her a kiss that was much longer, with much softer lips than a lot
of people would have considered proper.  He also let his hand slip very low
on her back, almost, but not quite cupping her left buttock, which was
hidden from the others in the room.  She sagged in his arms a little and
was breathless when the kiss broke.

   "Thank you for helping me fight my battle." he said softly.  "Were it
not for you Ramona may never have given me a chance."

   Renee's eyes were a little unfocused from the kiss.  "That's OK." she
sighed.  Then she giggled, her eyes clearing.  "If I couldn't have you I
wanted the next best girl to get you." Then she turned to Ted who was
looking at Debbie like he was considering kissing her too.  "Come on Romeo,
I have something I want you to do for me." She stopped in front of Debbie
and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek.  "Weddings always make me so
horny!" she whispered.  Debbie hadn't been expecting that from an adult,
and the shock showed on her face.  Renee laughed.  "Don't worry about it.
You'll understand some day."

   Debbie, though, understood very well already.  She just hadn't expected
an adult to say something like that out loud.  The wedding had made Debbie
horny too.  She looked sideways at her brother and felt her pussy tighten
up.

   Finally everyone was gone.  Ramona had already made the Lasagna, and had
put it in the refrigerator to keep.  Now she lovingly re-created the same
meal that, last time, had ended so disastrously in her old home.

   "You all go change clothes while I finish this up." she said.

   The three of them went upstairs and, after changing clothes, Robert had
a suspicion.  He quietly let himself into the secret passageway and stepped
up the hall to look into his new step-daughter's bedroom.  She was just
dropping her dress onto the bed, now dressed only in panties and thigh-high
hose.  She was gorgeous, he thought, her body that perfect shape that went
with young women in the prime of their lives.  His intent wasn't to spy on
her nakedness, though he enjoyed seeing that.  As he had suspected, he saw
the door open and Robby step into the room.  He was already dressed in
jeans and a T shirt.

   "Um ...  do you need any help?" he asked his sister, who turned her head
to look at him.

   "What a bunch of hooey!" she snorted.  "You just want to ravish me."

   "OK" agreed Robby happily.  "Want to be ravished?"

   "Mom took me to the doctor last week." she said, pulling on a pair of
terrycloth shorts.  "She got me a prescription for birth control pills."

   Robby was obviously stunned.  "She did?!  I didn't know that!  Why
didn't you tell me?" he asked.

   "Because, my horny brother, you have to take them for a whole month
before they're effective."

   "A whole MONTH?!" moaned Robby.  "We have to wait a whole nother MONTH?"

   "Don't you love me enough to wait another month?" asked Debbie.  Robby
was so upset that he missed the tone in her voice.  Their watching uncle,
though, heard something disingenuous in her complaint.

   "Of course I do." said Robby automatically.  "But a whole month?"

   "I'll do something nice for you after supper, when Mom and Uncle Bob
leave for their honeymoon.  How's that?  You know how much you like to feel
my mouth on you."

   Robby sighed.  "You look delicious.  Maybe I should have you for supper
instead of the lasagna." He leered at his sister's still naked breasts.

   "Supper first." said Debbie firmly.  "Then your birthday present and
something else nice for you."

   She pulled on a T shirt and they left together.  Robert returned to the
master bedroom to find his new wife also stripped to her panties.

   "Oh!" she said as he came through the bookcase.  "You startled me.  What
were you doing in there?"

   "I was returning the favor for your children spying on us." he said,
grinning.

   Ramona's mouth made an "o".  "You don't mean they were ..." she asked.

   "No" he smiled.  "Robby was most insistent, but your daughter informed
him that she is now taking birth control pills, and that he must wait a
month.  He was devastated."

   "That's odd." said Ramona, pulling on the clothes she planned to travel
in.  "When we got the prescription she didn't seem all that excited."

   "She is having to make adult decisions before she is truly an adult."
said Robert, taking his wife into his arms.  "Is there time before supper?
You're daughter's nakedness has gotten me ready for my bride."

   Ramona pushed him away.  "You didn't say she was naked, you dirty old
man.  What will you do if they spy on us again?"

   "I will do the same thing I was doing the last time they spied on us.  I
will be doing what I want to do right now."

   "Be patient, you ogre." she teased.  "We'll be on the island tonight and
you can ravish me all you want.  Until then you'll just have to think about
it." She patted his crotch as he reflected on how much she and her daughter
were alike, even to the point of speaking alike.

   Supper was charged with emotion, not just because of the wedding and the
good food and the family atmosphere.  Everybody at the table was horny,
though the women would have denied it to preserve their facade of control.
The meal itself helped them all deal with their emotions.  The asparagus
and olives and deviled eggs announced both the importance of the meal, and
that this was a time to be together, and to put aside personal desires.  It
was a good meal ...  a good start to their life as an expanded family.

   Then there was the leave-taking to get through, during which both women,
for some reason, felt compelled to cry.  Ramona kissed her son goodbye on
the lips, a long, lingering kiss.  She let her tongue flick against his
briefly and parted from him breathing deeply.  She turned to see that her
husband had taken the same route with Debbie.

   Debbie, when her uncle kissed her, was unprepared for the kind of kiss
he gave her.  It took things a level higher than their last lingering kiss,
on that night when he had presented her with a bouquet of flowers.  That
kiss had taken her breath away.  This kiss made her want to be naked.  It
was like her kisses with Robby in some ways, as her uncle's tongue invaded
her mouth and her own pressed against it.  He tasted different, and she
felt the stubble of his whiskers on the skin around her lips.  Her knees
got rubbery and she realized she could get used to being kissed by him,
just as she loved being kissed by Robby.

   Debbie and Robby stood hand in hand at the top of the steps to the front
door as they watched their mother and uncle drive out of the gate.  Debbie
turned to her brother and gazed at him.

   "Go up to your room.  I'll get your birthday present and call you when
I'm ready to show it to you."

   "OK" he said.  He was jumpy with nervous sexual energy.  He paced in his
room, not sure how to deal with his pent up emotions.  He thought about
beating off, but knew she planned to suck him, and wanted to be hard for
her.  She liked the taste of his spunk too, so he wanted a full load to
give her.  He wondered vaguely what his birthday present was, but it was
unimportant, compared to loving her.

   He heard the knock on the wall between their rooms and, instead of going
out in the hallway, went to the bookcase in his room and pressed a hidden
catch that opened a secret doorway into her room.  He had helped his uncle
service that doorway, oiling the long unused hinges and locking mechanism,
and replacing the rope on the counterweights that moved the heavy section
of wall.  As her bookcase swung open he found her facing him and his jaw
dropped.

   Chapter Seventeen

   Robby's birthday present was the outfit Debbie was wearing.  It was a
mixture of marina blue and sky blue, with gold threads in it that sparkled
in the light.  It had originally consisted of five items, though Debbie was
wearing only four of them.  Her legs were encased in black sheer silk
stockings, held up by a garter belt that was sky blue and lacy.  Over that
was a pair of panties that were so brief as to cover only her mound itself,
with thin straps that rose across each hip and went to the back.  They were
the darker blue.  Over that was a diaphanous jacket, again the lighter
blue. There was no way it was designed to keep a woman warm.  Rather it's
purpose was to showcase what was under it, in this case, the panties and
her breasts.  She had decided to leave the bra off.  She might wear it for
him later, but not tonight.  She had taken flavored lipstick and darkened
her nipples hastily, during which they became erect as she thought of her
brother next door and what she had planned for him.  Her breasts pushed
proudly against the almost invisible cloth of the jacket.

   "Happy Birthday." she said softly.

   Robby was trying mightily to control himself.  In one way he thought she
was cruel, for showcasing the body he wanted so much, but was being denied
...  at least for a month.  That thought made him react a little
differently than Debbie might have expected.

   "There's no way I'm wearing that thing." he said firmly.

   Debbie was thunderstruck.  Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to
respond to his comment.

   Robby stepped forward and took her face in his hands, sliding in under
her hair, which was down and flowing to her shoulders.

   "But it looks good on you." he said.  He kissed her several times on the
lips.  "So I'm going to let you keep it as part of YOUR birthday present.

   "You got me a present too?" she asked, her voice rising.

   "Yeah.  It cost a lot, so I had to work for it.  I wanted to surprise
you, but I'm not a tease like some people I know, so I didn't tell you I
had it.  You want it now?"

   What Debbie wanted now was her brother ...  doing what she expected this
outfit to require of him, whether he had permission or not.  She had
planned this evening very carefully, but things had already gone a little
bit awry.

   Before she could say "No, you can give it to me later." he backed up and
said "I'll be right back."

   He darted through the open bookcase and she saw him go to his bed and
get on his knees and reach under the bed.  He turned and she saw something
white before his back obstructed her view.

   "Close your eyes." he yelled.

   Debbie closed her eyes most of the way, but peeked through her lashes.

   "Cover them with your hands." yelled Robby, knowing his sister too well.

   She snorted, but did as he asked.  She heard him come into the room.

   "OK" he said quietly.

   Debbie opened her eyes.  Robby had stripped off his own clothes and was
naked.  He held in his arms the long white box with the flowers in it for
her.  Her heart thumped in her chest as she reached for them.  She lifted
them out of the box like they were a baby ...  too precious to chance
dropping.  The pink roses were framed in a halo of red ones, with tiny
white flowers on thin stems scattered throughout.

   "There are sixteen of the pink ones." said Robby, feeling like he had to
explain it.

   Debbie raised her eyes to her brother's.  He could see emotion in them,
but she didn't say anything.  She took a shuddering breath, bringing the
roses to her nose and he realized she had been holding her breath for some
reason.  Her eyes never left his, though, and they looked ...  strange.  He
had never seen quite that look in her eyes before.  She almost looked mad,
like she was trying not to explode.

   "They cost a lot." he said, feeling the urge to back up, in case she
threw the flowers at him or something.

   Debbie turned suddenly and took the flowers to her bureau, where she lay
them tenderly at the base of the mirror.  She turned around and stepped
back toward her brother.  Her hand lifted to the bow at her neck and she
pulled a loose end she found there.  The jacket drifted off her arms,
sliding down her back to float to the floor.

   "Take my panties off." she said.

   Robby blinked.  She sounded normal, but still looked ...  wild somehow.
He knelt and grasped the strings that went up and over each hip.  He pulled
downward on them and gasped to see that, under the panties, all her pubic
hair had been removed.  Her pussy lips were plump and dark ...  thick ...
with a thick greasy moist look to them.  They were so fat that he couldn't
see her clit.  He licked his lips.  He could find it.  He pushed his face
toward her shaven pussy.

   Her hands grabbed his hair and stopped him.

   "No." she said, pulling upward.

   Robby stood.  That look was in her eyes.  He was sure she was mad.  Was
she going to deny him contact, just because all he'd gotten her for her
birthday were some miserable flowers?

   "I don't want that right now." she said.  Then she kissed him.

   That kiss communicated to Robby that he was a fool.  It interpreted that
new look in her eyes as one he hoped he'd see often ...  daily, if
possible. The passion with which she kissed him was almost animal ... 
hungry ...  demanding.  Still holding the kiss she stepped, forcing him to
shuffle toward her bed.  She tried to keep the kiss even as they fell on
top of the bed, the awning of the four poster shaking as the posts
vibrated. But she had to pull her lips from his to scoot and scramble up on
the bed properly, where she lay back, her legs spread, her hair fanned out
on the pillow.

   "I want you in me." she said, her voice husky.

   Robby felt electricity flash through him almost painfully as she offered
him what he so desperately needed.  His lust made him more forceful than
normal and, as he hunkered over her and felt her guide him to her slot, he
entered her roughly, slamming deep on his first lunge, spreading her fat
pussy lips apart and mashing the clitty he had been unable to see.

   "OHHhhhhhhhh" she moaned.  "I've missed this so much."

   All of Robby's attention was on the soft warm pussy that was clasping
his erect tool.  He felt the beginnings of a premature ejaculation and held
still.

   "Don't stop" she moaned.

   "I'm too excited." he groaned in her ear.  "If I move I'll cum."

   "Oh." she breathed into his own ear.  "And if I do this will you cum?"

   She flexed her pussy muscles, squeezing his prick tightly before letting
her pussy relax, and then doing it all over again.

   "Ohhhhh yes ...  don't do that pleeease." he groaned.

   "Or you'll cum in me?" she whispered, her tongue flicking out into his
ear.

   She felt his penis swell and felt is butt muscles tense under her hands
as he prepared to jerk his penis out of her.  As excited as he was, he
remembered her mention of having gone on the pill, and that they weren't
effective yet.  And, as much as he wanted to flush her full of his seed, he
knew that unless she wanted that too it would not be a good thing.

   He began to withdraw as he felt his semen begin its one-second rush
through his cock.  He felt her hands on his ass dig in and pull him back
down.

   "Cum in me." she whispered.  "That's what I want for my birthday.  Cum
in my pussy Robby."

   Like fireworks, his semen burst forth from the tip of his prick as he
pressed it deeply into her, bathing her cervix with his sperm-laden nectar.
Even as his life-giving fluid leave him, and his body pushed hard, he
wanted to pull out of her.  Then her words penetrated his consciousness. 
She WANTED this.

   "Uhhhhhh" he grunted, a second strong spurt following the first.  He
knew she hadn't cum yet, and he ground against her in an attempt to bring
her off.

   Debbie tried to open herself even further as she felt his spunk shooting
into her.  She wasn't close to an orgasm, but right now an orgasm wasn't
what she wanted.

   "I haven't taken any pills." she whispered in her brother's ear.  He
jerked into her at her words and she felt another wash of heat from the tip
of his penis.  "I don't want to take any pills." she encouraged him,
milking his spurting prick with her pussy muscles.  "I want you to make a
baby in me Robby." She licked his ear again, and felt him shudder as
another spurt flushed into her.

   He sagged down on top of her, her stockinged legs wrapped around his
thighs, her breasts crushed against him and leaving red marks on his chest.



   "Ohh Deb" he sighed, dragging in a breath afterward.  "Do you mean it?"

   She nodded, rubbing her cheek against him.  "We don't have to wait now.
Mom even said we could hire a nanny to help me raise a baby if we needed
to. And you're going to fall in love with some other girl some day, so I
want your baby now."

   Robby's chest heaved as he pushed himself up to fix his sister's eyes.
"I love YOU, Deb.  I don't plan on falling in love with some other girl."

   "We'll talk about that later." she said.  "I gave you your birthday
present.  I like the flowers ...  no I LOVE the flowers ...  but right now
I want to feel you spurting in me again Robby.  I want to cum with you
making a baby in me."

   Robby gave her her wish.

   They took a shower together ...  and he gave her her wish again.

   In fact, Robby gave Debbie her birthday wish four times a day until
their mother and uncle got back from their honeymoon.  Had they compared
notes, Debbie spent three times as much time with a stiff prick in her than
her newlywed mother did.

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

   The twins went back to school, where their friends were.  The board of
the Franklin Group was, in fact, ninety percent other teenagers.  One
teacher was invited to be on the board as well.  Ramona and Robert were
consultants to the group.  Robert explained that some kinds of help were
better than others, and that in some cases, "help" could actually hurt. 
Two months later, during a break in school, Debbie acted on the first
recommendation of the Franklin board.  She and Robby drove one of the few
new things they'd bought since their mother got married, and went to a
place they'd heard of called the Taylor School for Boys.  They met a man
named Phillip Masterson, who gave them a tour of the school.

   The Taylor School accepted boys who were either orphaned, or had been
removed from their homes because of abuse or the parents' inability to care
for them.  The boys were of an age where they were not attractive to
prospective parents.  Many of them had bad attitudes when they arrived at
Taylor.  But Taylor accepted them as the parents they'd never have.  It was
a technical and vocational school, designed specially to prepare such youth
for life after the age of eighteen, when they'd be abandoned by the
government that had seen to their basic needs, sometimes for all their
lives.

   Phillip showed them the automotive shop, the welding and wood shops, a
room filled with appliances that were used to teach boys how to repair
them. There was an electronics lab, such as it was.  The school had
formerly been a grocery store in an urban area that was abandoned by its
residents as they moved out to new suburban homes.  All the services were
crammed into the ground floor of the place, with living quarters for
twenty-three boys upstairs, dormitory style.  Phillip Masterson lived with
them, in the same dormitory setting.

   They looked at the records of the school, and found that almost every
graduate was employed and living on his own.  There were four out of the
hundred and fifteen who had graduated who were in jail.  Sixty four of them
were married and some had children already.  It was an impressive record of
success.

   When they asked Masterson what he needed, he laughed.  "I need a proper
building.  I need more staff.  I need complete sets of tools.  I need nicer
rooms, where the boys don't have to be in public their whole lives.  I've
got a plan for girls too, but I can't mix them ...  not in this place.  I'd
need staff for them too.  You want me to go on?" He laughed again.  "I'm
happy for your interest, but we need so much that I wouldn't even know
where to suggest we could use your help." He smiled.  "I appreciate you
kids being interested, but I'm not sure what you all could do."

   Debbie just smiled.  "Let's just sit down and talk about that."

   They left a very shaken Phillip Masterson when they left.  A consultant
was hired, who worked with Masterson and his staff.  A mere three million
dollars built a new facility that would handle over a hundred boys.  Three
State agencies kicked in money and expertise at the urging of the
Foundation's attorney.  The new facility would provide a place to train
girls in secretarial skills, design and manufacturing of clothing, cooking,
and a fast track to college to pursue a degree in education.  It would take
a while to get the girl's side going, as Masterson had decided that he had
his hands full with the boys' program, but the facilities were there when a
suitable director and staff were hired.

   The money provided by the Franklin Group was not required to be repaid,
with one exception.  Money was made available for boys to borrow to start
their own businesses after graduation.  That money had to be paid back,
with interest ...  a whopping half of a percent of interest.

   The word got out that the Franklin Group was willing and able to do good
things.  That word would generate an interest in the group that would cause
the twins to have to finish their education with tutors, because they had
too much work to do.  But that would come later.

   For now, life was more or less normal, and when Debbie and Robby got
back and delivered their report to their mother and uncle, there was a
minor celebration and hopes that something good would happen because of
what they had just decided to do.

   That night, they settled in to watch Bonanza on the brand new thirteen
inch Sony Trinitron television, one of the first available in the United
States.  They made a habit of sharing the long couch when they watched TV
together, because that let them put the TV close enough that they could all
see and hear it better.

   On this particular night, Ramona and Robert sat in the middle, with
Debbie on Robert's other side, while Robby sat beside his mother.  Debbie
leaned in and wiggled under her uncle's shoulder, cuddling up to him. 
Ramona, tired after her day at the bank, leaned back with one hand on her
husband's thigh, and the other on her son's.

   It was during a commercial that Debbie realized her uncle's hand was
cupping her right breast, which was naked under her flannel nightgown.

   "Uncle Bob!" she said.  "You're a happily married man!" she teased.

   Her uncle looked down at his hand and he gave her breast a little
squeeze.

   "I'm very happy right now." he teased back.

   Ramona and Robby leaned forward to look at what was happening.  Despite
Ramona's promise to her son, they had not been intimate since the
honeymoon. They had come close a few times, when a hello or goodbye kiss
got a little carried away, but both were well taken care of sexually, and
the urge stayed ...  just an urge.  Most nights Robby and Debbie slept
together, in his bed sometimes, and in hers others.

   Ramona elbowed her husband.  "It's not fair for you to play and I don't
get to." she pouted.  Her hand strayed up Bobby's thigh to his crotch and
cupped his thick penis and balls through his pajama bottoms.  Robby's
sucked in breath could be heard over the voice of the announcer, extolling
the virtues of Pepsodent toothpaste.

   Now it was Robert who leaned forward and he saw where his wife's hand
was.

   "Methinks thou dost protest too much." he quoted.  He suddenly felt a
hand on his own half hard prick and looked down to see Debbie's hand on the
outside of his own pajamas.

   "I can't reach his." she said demurely.  "Besides, somebody else already
did, so I guess yours will have to do."

   They were all playing, but sometimes horsing around goes farther than
anyone would have anticipated.  The four of them missed Hoss Cartwright
lifting a broken wagon off of where it had fallen on his little brother. 
They missed the straining, as his bulky muscles bunched and his face
contorted and he grunted.

   That's because their own muscles were bunching and straining, their own
faces were contorted, as kisses were given and taken.  Soon Ramona's hand
was inside her son's pajamas, wrapped firmly around his stiff column of
flesh, and Robert's hands were roaming under the flannel that covered
Debbie's naked body.  Robby's fingers found his mother's slick slot, and
Debbie's hand touched, for the first time, the penis that had brought her
mother so much pleasure.

   It was Ramona who broke first.  She stood up, her pajamas hanging open
where Robby had unbuttoned them so he could get to her breasts with his
mouth.

   "Bobby?" she said breathlessly.  He looked up from kissing Debbie. 
"Robby has been very bad." She closed her pajamas over her naked breasts.
"I need to have a stern talk with him.  I'm going to go do that in our
bedroom if that's all right with you." She looked down at her husband's
crotch.  The fly of his pajamas had her daughter's wrist coming out,
attached to her arm.  There was movement inside the garment.

   Ramona put her hands on her hips.  "I see that Debbie is being bad too.
Would you be willing to take care of her punishment for me?  While I deal
with Robby?"

   Robert smiled up at his wife.  "Yes dear." he said simply.  He looked
down at his niece.  "Debbie!" he said sternly.  "Go to your room!"

   Debbie pulled his stiff prick out of his fly and jacked on it two or
three more times.  "Yes Uncle Bob." she said meekly.

   Ramona took Robby to the master bedroom.  She was topless before they
got there, and her pajama bottoms hit the floor just inside the room.  She
pulled the covers back and lay down, scooting over into the middle of the
bed.  Robby was right behind her.

   Robert let himself be led to Debbie's room.  Once inside she turned to
him and stood, arms at her sides.  She looked uncertain.

   "This is something you wish to do, yes?" asked her uncle.

   "I love Robby." she said.

   "As I love your mother." he nodded.

   "I don't want you to love my mother any less." she said.

   "Alas, I cannot leave her and marry you.  It would cause a scandal." he
teased.  Then moreb seriously.  "Are you worried about Robby?  Are you
afraid his feelings for you will suffer what they are doing?"

   Debbie shook her head.  "No, I know he loves me.  I'm not worried about
that.  It's just that I've never ...  with anybody except Robby ...  I
guess I'm just nervous."

   Robert used patience, taking things slow.  They talked, and lay together
on the bed, kissing and fondling each other.  She talked about the house,
and what she and her brother had done in this very room, before they knew
they had an uncle.  He teased her physically, until she sat up and removed
her nightgown to lie naked beside him.  Then he got out of his own pajamas,
but still only cuddled with her, stroking her, telling her she was
beautiful ...  wooing her in a sense.

   And, when her passions had been raised to a fever pitch, and she tugged
at him, rolling onto her back, he knelt between her thighs and let her
experience what another man was like.

   In the other room, before Debbie even felt a penis enter her body,
Ramona had experienced four orgasms, and Robby was working on his second.

   Debbie was amazed at how different it felt, and how much the same it
felt.  Her uncle was built differently everywhere, including that part of
him that probed her depths.  His back felt different to her roaming hands.
His chest felt different on her breasts.  His mouth felt different on her
neck and nipples.  Her orgasm felt different too.  It was a sweet one, that
snuck up on her and sent tingles all through her.  The orgasms she had with
Robby were powerful and earthshaking.  The orgasm her uncle gave her was
like licking ice cream ...  sweet and long lasting.

   At last Robert stopped.  "I am very close, darling niece.  I would not
place my seed in your body without your permission." he panted.

   Debbie stroked his sides.  "I'm not too worried.  I've already missed
two periods, so I don't think you can do much more damage."

   He froze, amazed.  His wife and sister had told him nothing of this.  "I
did not know." he said.

   Debbie pulled at his hips, to get him moving again.  "I haven't told Mom
yet.  Or Robby either.  I'm going to have to pretty soon.  I need to start
seeing a doctor."

   "This is true." said her uncle.  "This is also a good thing, yes?" he
asked.

   Her smile bloomed.  "Oh yes!  This is a very good thing!  I'm very
happy."

   "Then I shall be happy too." he panted.  "I shall be happy for you ...
and in you ..." he grunted.  "I shall be ...  very ...  happy" he sighed as
he sent his incestuous semen deep in his pregnant niece's pussy.

   They lay there, and talked some more, idly caressing each other and
catching their breath.

   "Thank you." said Robert.

   "Welcome to the family" giggled Debbie.

   In the other room, Ramona lay spent and exhausted, both from a day at
work, and from four body wrenching orgasms.  Her son, having pumped her
full of his spunk twice, lay with his head on her breasts.

   "Debbie's not taking her pills." he said to his mother.

   "I know." she said.  "She should have refilled them by now, and she's
never asked me to take her to do that."

   "I probably shouldn't have cum inside you either." he said.

   "You can't make me pregnant, darling." she sighed.

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "Because I already am." she said, running her fingers through his hair.
I was on time last month, like I always am.  You could set a clock by me if
you wanted to.  Well, not any more.  I should have started five days ago.
I'm afraid you're going to be a brother again ...  or an uncle ...  or
something, darling."

   "Really?" he raised his head.  "That's GREAT, Mom!  What does Uncle Bob
think about that?"

   "He doesn't know yet." said his mother.  "I didn't want to give him a
false alarm.  I'll probably mention it tomorrow."

   Robby raised up.  His penis hung, full and heavy from between his legs.
It was as stiff as it had been when he first came into the room.

   "Let's celebrate" he leered.

   Ramona moaned.

   But she spread her legs.

   It was probably two in the morning when Debbie and Robert padded into
the master bedroom, still naked.  Debbie had stopped long enough to get a
washcloth and wipe between her legs, but her inner thighs were already
glistening again as more of her uncle's sperm seeped out of her.  They
stood, looking at the two people in the bed, lying side by side.  Debbie
climbed in beside her brother, while Robert went around and climbed in
beside his sister.

   Fifteen minutes later there was only the slow, measured rasp of people's
sleeping breathing.

   At the window the curtain moved.  It was a small movement, as if an
errant breeze had wafted through the window.

   The window was brand new, however, and tightly closed.  There was no way
for any breeze of any kind to have penetrated to move the curtain.

   And yet, the curtain moved again, this time hitting the glass lightly,
almost as if something had passed through it, and then through the glass,
leaving the house, and perhaps trying to take the curtain with it.

   As if pain was leaving the house ...  pain that stained the soles of the
feet of a ghost who turned a smiling face on the four in the bed as it was
finally set free to go elsewhere.
   
