Dedication: This series, in general, and this story, in particular, is
dedicated to "Peaches".  She inspires me, and keeps me honest.  Christy is
modeled on her, or at least how I think she could be.

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

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

   Bob

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

   The Making of a Gigolo (6) - Christy Brown by Beating Off Bob

   September, 1971

   Chapter One

   It is generally a sad thing, when a woman cheats on her husband.  Or
when a man sinks so low as to seek solace in the arms of another woman,
while his wife waits for him at home.

   True, there are those couples who don't mind sharing their spouse with
others, but, on the whole, they are rare.  More often, there is a schism
that separates the husband and wife, and drives one ...  or both of them
... to seek what they crave, but cannot get from their mate.

   Such was the case with Christy and Sergeant Richard Brown.  Sergeant
Brown joined the Army because he needed a job and, in the small town of
Buxton, where he was from, there were no jobs.  At least there were no jobs
that appealed to him.  He wanted adventure, and thrills.

   But, he had recently married the girl he'd met at a 4-H event, and
courted from afar.  They'd had to live with his parents, at first, and that
was cramping his style.  His draft number was also pretty low.  So, when an
Army recruiter told him he would almost surely get the chance to jump out
of airplanes, and become one of the famed Green Berets, he jumped at the
chance.  The recruiter also told him he wouldn't have to go to Vietnam.

   The recruiter got it half right, and half wrong.  Richard Brown did go
to Airborne school, and did jump out of airplanes.  He did get accepted
into the ranks of the men who wore the coveted Green Beret.  He also went
to Vietnam, though, where his status was interesting.

   As a lowly Private First Class, Richard would normally have had access
only to a ...  lower class ...  of Vietnamese women, if he got much time to
be with one at all.  But, as a Green Beret, his status was much higher, and
the sloe-eyed women, who rubbed up against him in the bars, even though
some of them were only fourteen or fifteen, were trained to put stars in
his eyes.  They did, and while Richard missed his wife of six months, he
did not go without burying his prick in a hot, willing woman.

   Christy, the wife he was missing, was in much more sober straights.  Her
in-laws had driven her crazy, and she'd moved back home, to Granger, with
her mother and father, both of whom worked and were out of the house all
day.  She'd tried to resurrect friendships with the girls she'd gone to
high school with, but they had scattered, getting married, like her, or
getting jobs, or going to college.  Some of them had moved to bigger towns
and cities, looking for the excitement that Granger just didn't offer.  She
loved her parents, but they were parents, and still treated her like she
was a girl, which did NOT match her own self image, as a confident,
capable, married young woman.  As a result, she spent a lot of time in the
evenings going for long walks in the woods, and exploring abandoned farm
houses, which were cropping up in larger and larger numbers in the Midwest,
as conglomerates bought the land to farm, but had no use for the fifty, or
sixty, or eighty-year-old-house, in which generations of farmers had been
raised.

   She felt perfectly safe, out exploring like this.  Very often she saw no
one at all, once she got off the main roads.  Those people she did see knew
her, or knew of her, and just waved as they drove by.  Once in a while
someone would ask her if she needed a ride somewhere, but she never
accepted.

   She didn't need to work, and work seemed like school to her anyway, so,
basically, she had nothing to do.

   Christy Brown was bored.

   Now, as Fall faded the few colors there were in Granger, and winter
loomed in her mind, Christy sat in her old room.  It looked just like it
had when she'd left it, to go become a woman.  She'd left her childhood in
this room ...  and here she was ...  right back in it.  She looked at the
walls, which were pink, and the bevy of stuffed animals she'd scorned
taking with her to her marriage bed.  Her dolls were still lined up on top
of the dresser.

   Quite suddenly, she realized she wasn't happy ...  wasn't happy at all.
Marriage wasn't like she'd dreamed it would be.  Her life wasn't like she'd
dreamed it would be.  Richard was off in a war, where he might be killed
any day.  Thousands of men were being killed over there.  What was worse
was that she couldn't even be proud of him for fighting for America.  The
news was full of hate and disgust for the soldiers.  People spat, when they
talked about the war, and became cold and distant to her, if she told them
what her husband did, and where he was.  And he'd quit writing.  He said he
was too busy to write more than once a month.  At first, the letters had
come almost every day.

   She thought about the wedding.  That made her feel better.  It was one
of the few things that had been everything she hoped it would be.  She had
been beautiful in her gown, and Richard had been handsome in his tux. 
Everyone had smiled and wished her well.  People had winked, telling her to
have a great honeymoon.

   That led to less happy thoughts.

   They hadn't had the money for a real honeymoon.  Richard had already
taken her virginity in the back seat of his car.  Being in a bed seemed to
make less difference than she'd thought it would.  That was probably
because his parents didn't even let them have the house to themselves on
their wedding night.  They had been on the other side of the wall, and
Richard's lusty thrusting had made the bed hit against the wall,
embarrassing her.  She'd tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn't ... 
couldn't, he said, grinning down at her as his sweat dripped on her chest
and neck.

   Richard had been happy.  He had climbed on her three times, that night,
setting up that knocking sound all three times.  Her father-in-law, the
next morning, had leered at her and bragged about the masculinity of the
Brown men.

   She had endured it six more months.  It was always the same.  With
little or no prelude, Richard climbed on top of her, thrust and humped
until he came, and then rolled over to sleep, until he woke up to do it
again.  Then he had joined the Army and, like that, he was gone.  She'd
seen him twice, since then.  The only difference between those two times
and all the times before, was that she had strained and tugged to get the
big bed far enough away from the wall that it didn't bang against it while
he was home on leave.

   A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped at it absently, looking
helplessly at the little girl room she was stuck in, for who knew how long.

   Silently, she let herself cry, until it was out of her system.

   Then, she put on tennis shoes, shorts, and a tank top, grabbed her
walking stick and the pocket knife Richard had left behind, and went for a
hike.

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

   It was on her walk, where she did her best thinking, that a partial
solution came to her.  She could redecorate her room!  She didn't know why
she hadn't thought of that already.  Some paint, a little wall paper ... 
maybe some new posters or pictures, and her room would be updated.  Then,
maybe, she would feel updated.

   She altered her path, to bring her back into town where the hardware
store was.  She was sweating, even though it was September.  Her lithe,
tanned legs rippled with muscles she hadn't had as a teenager.  Walking
five or ten miles a day had reduced her to a slim, muscled young woman who,
at nineteen, was in the peak of health and vitality.

   She was proud of that, though a little disappointed that her breasts had
gotten smaller.  Her B cup bras were loose now, when she wore them at all.
Her small, tight breasts didn't move, unless she ran, and then only
bounced, pulling at the flesh on her upper chest.  Her nipples had stayed
the same, though, which also didn't impress her.  They were comprised of
puffy dark pink areolas, which stood up above her breast flesh half an
inch, like a little hill.  From there, at least when she was aroused,
darker nipples perched on top of those hills.  She thought she looked like
an ice cream Sunday, with her breasts as the ice cream, her areolas as the
whipped cream, and her nipples as cherries on top.  The most horrible
thing, though, was that on her right areola, there was a single hair, dark
like the hair on her head, that sprouted from the pink skin.  That hair was
at least two inches long, and had been there as long as she could remember.
When she was fifteen, she had pulled it, trying to jerk it out.  The pain
had been indescribable, and tears had flooded her eyes so quickly, and in
such numbers, that she couldn't even see if it had come out, until she
stopped crying, and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands.

   The hair was still there then, and it was still there as she walked into
the hardware store.  Richard hadn't paid much attention to her breasts,
other than to squeeze them and rub them.  Eventually, she had grown
resigned to that flaw.

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

   She looked around curiously.  She'd never been in this hardware store,
or any hardware store, in her whole life.  She had no idea where to go, or
how to find what she wanted.  For that matter, she didn't even know WHAT
she wanted yet.

   There was a young girl of about sixteen at the register.  She was
chewing gum, and looked bored.

   "Where's the paint?" asked Christy.

   "Aisle six," droned the girl, not moving.

   Aisle six did, indeed, contain paint ...  what looked like thousands of
cans of it, in all sizes, colors and brands.  She was immediately lost in
information overload as she stared at the rows of colorful products.

   There was a man, a little older than herself, standing further down the
aisle, holding a can of paint.  He put it on the shelf.

   "Excuse me," she said, timidly, walking towards him.  He looked over at
her.  "Do you work here?"

   He grinned.  "I feel like I do sometimes, but no, I don't work here."

   "Oh," she said, disappointed.  "I need help.  I haven't the faintest
idea what to do."

   "What are you looking for?" he asked.

   "I want to paint my room," she said.  "But look at all this!  How do I
choose?"

   "Well," he said.  "I CAN probably help you with that.  What kind of
finish do you want?"

   "Finish?" she asked.

   "Flat, satin or semi-gloss," he said.  "I don't recommend gloss paint
for interior walls."

   "I've never even heard of any of those," she said helplessly.  "Isn't
paint ...  paint?"

   "Not at all," he said patiently.  "Let me show you."

   For the next forty-five minutes, Christy got an education in paint.  It
wasn't limited to that, though, because, as the man got more and more
information out of her about what she might want, she found out about
products that could put texture on the walls, and how wallpaper, cut into
strips, could be used as a border, to accent paint.  She learned that
different paint would be needed for the molding, something she hadn't even
thought about.  Then there were the tools that could be used for painting.
Brushes of all kinds, each used for a specific kind of painting, such as up
next to the ceiling, or around the molding, and rollers, and different
kinds of roller covers.  She was fascinated by it all, and by his seemingly
inexhaustible supply of information.

   "That's the basics," he finally said.

   "I can't do this," she moaned.  "It's too complicated!"

   "Nonsense," he said.

   "No it's not nonsense," she insisted.  "I remember the difference
between flat, semi-gloss and ...  what's that other one?"

   "Satin," he said patiently.

   "Yes, satin.  I remember that, and I think I remember about the
difference between thick rollers and thin ones ...  but that's about it. 
I'll have to hire somebody to do this."

   "Well," he said.  "I'm in the business, but it can be expensive."

   "How expensive?" she asked.

   "How big is your room?" he asked.

   "How would I know?" she moaned.

   He stepped away from her, several steps.

   "You are standing at one wall.  Is the other wall about here?"

   "Maybe a little further," she said, not sure.  He stepped back another
step.  "There," she said, sounding more confident than she was.

   He looked at the floor and seemed to be counting.

   "Is it square, or rectangular?" he asked.

   "Rectangular, I guess," she said.

   "And that distance we just did," he said.  "Is it the long way, or the
short way?"

   "Short," she said.

   "How many windows?" he asked.

   "Two."

   "Is the trim ...  that molding we were talking about ...  is that wood
colored, or painted?"

   "It's kind of a dark pink, or maybe maroon," she said.

   "Do you want to leave it that color?" he asked.

   "I guess so," she said.  "I don't know."

   He sighed.  "OK, I'd guess it would end up costing you a hundred dollars
or so.  That's an estimate, but it's probably pretty close."

   "A hundred DOLLARS!?" she moaned.

   "Labor is expensive," he said.  He glanced at her left hand.  "Can your
husband do some of the work?"

   "He's not here," she said, uncomfortably.

   "Well, when he gets back, can he do it?  I can supervise, and it would
take less of my time, and cost you less."

   "He's in the Army," she said, and then bit her lip, wishing she hadn't
said it.

   "Oh," he said.  "Nam?"

   She nodded, and looked down, to avoid seeing his derision.

   "That's too bad," he said.  "I hope he makes it back OK."

   Her head snapped up.  He wasn't frowning, and didn't act disgusted.

   "You could do some of the work," he said.  "I could teach you, and, once
you get started, I could go on to my other jobs."

   "I'll have to talk to my parents," she said.  She didn't have a hundred
dollars.  She got about fifty dollars a month, from the Army, which was
enough for what her parents didn't supply her with, but she used that up on
clothes, and other little things she wanted.

   "I thought you were married," he said.

   "I live with them," she said, feeling like a little girl.  "Just for
while he's gone," she said, trying to rationalize living with her parents
at her age.

   "Really?" He smiled.  "I live with my mother too."

   "You're kidding," she said.  When she'd gotten closer to him, she'd
realized he was older than she was, maybe by several years.  "You're not
married?"

   "Not yet," he said, smiling.

   "Well I'll talk to them and see if it's all right," she said.  "How can
I contact you?"

   He picked up a card that had ten colors of paint on one side, and
flipped it over to write on the back with a pen he took from his pocket.

   "Just call me," he said.

   "Bobby Dalton," she read out loud.  "Well, Bobby Dalton, I'm so glad I
met you.  I feel MUCH better about things now."

   Christy Brown had no way of knowing it, but that wouldn't be the last
time she made that statement to Bobby.

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

   Bobby watched the girl walk away.  He thought of her as a girl, even
though she was married.  He watched as her buttocks rose and fell in her
shorts, which clung tightly to them.

   He shook his head and grinned.  The last thing he needed was another
sexual entanglement.  Just a month ago, Tilly had met him at the door,
ecstatic that he had made her pregnant again.  He'd gone there to fuck her,
but had had dinner with her and Jake instead.

   From there, he had gone to see Jill, the divorced woman who was now
intent on having a child ...  his child.  She had welcomed him with open
arms, and taken him to bed, where she lay moaning under him as he
inseminated her for, perhaps, the fiftieth time since he'd started fucking
her in July, just three months ago.  He was, in fact, due at her house
after he picked up the paint he needed for another job.

   Prudence, a widow who was hugely pregnant with his baby, was due in a
month.  To top that off, his sister, Mary, had, just a few days after she'd
returned from her honeymoon, announced that she had missed her period too.
Her baby could be his, but it could also be her husband Fred's.

   He was in the middle of something that hadn't taken full shape yet, with
three of his other sisters.  Bev, who was about to turn eighteen, had been
getting orgasms from him for over a year.  He hadn't fucked her yet, but
they'd come close a time or two.  Now Flo, who was nineteen, and Linda, who
had just turned sixteen, had dipped a toe into the sexual sea around Bobby,
and might decide to get much wetter than that.  To top it off, Constance,
who was Prudence's daughter, and a senior in high school, like Bev, had
been brushing up against him lately, when he was over at Prudence's helping
her.  She was so huge, now, that she was exhausted much of the time.  Bobby
and Constance picked up the slack, so she could rest.  Constance had had a
crush on him for over a year, and had actually seen him making love to her
mother a little over six months ago.  At seventeen, she was allowed to
date, but hadn't gone out except for a couple of double dates with Bev, who
was now her best friend.  Bobby suspected she was horny, and looking for
some way to explore that, but she was Prudence's daughter, so he resisted
the urge to explore it with her.

   So, Bobby put the young woman, whose name he didn't even know, out of
his mind, and picked up the paint, so he could go meet Jill, who would
happily relieve him of the pressure that cute girl had produced in his
groin.

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

   Jill's eyes were smoky, when she met him at the door.  Her blouse was
already unbuttoned, and she wasn't wearing anything under it.

   "I just got back from the doctor," she said, licking her lips.

   "I didn't know you were sick," he said.

   "I'm not," she said.  "My little friend didn't come to visit me last
month.  I didn't say anything then, because I wanted to be sure.  You, my
handsome young man, are going to be a father."

   Of all the women Bobby had gotten pregnant, Jill was the one who pulled
at his heart strings the hardest.  She was bright, beautiful, and only a
few years older than he was.  The thought of coming home to her every night
was attractive.  But Jill didn't want to be married.  Her first marriage
had gone very ugly, and she still hadn't recovered from those ugly
feelings. She loved Bobby ...  in a way.  He made her feel fulfilled, and
truly a woman, in ways no other man ever had.  She was delighted that she
was pregnant with his baby, but she preferred to have her time alone ... 
after she'd had time with Bobby.

   "I want to celebrate," she said, her voice husky.

   They celebrated on the couch, which was the closest piece of furniture
they could comfortably lie down on.  She draped one leg over the back, and
let the other drop to the floor, as Bobby loomed over her and she got that
delicious filled feeling again as he slid into her.  He squirted her full
of what had made her pregnant, they took a break, and then he squirted her
full again in her bed.  During another break, she bent over the kitchen
table, and he squirted her full from behind.

   Then she kissed him, lovingly, and pushed him out the front door.

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

   Mirriam got out of her old pickup truck, and walked up the sidewalk to a
cute, but fairly old house on Maple Street.  She carried a basket of
laundry with her, which was her excuse for going into the house.  The
basket did, in fact, contain freshly laundered shirts, belonging to Ted
Brandywine, who was the brand new third grade teacher at the school just
down the street.  Due to the heat, when classes started in August, school
had been scheduled to run only in the mornings, until mid September.  It
had cooled off since that plan was put into action, but the bureaucracy of
the school board couldn't keep up with the weather.

   She was happy about that, because that meant she had the whole afternoon
to deliver the shirts.

   Ted grinned, as he opened the door and took the basket.

   "You know you aren't fooling anybody," he said.

   "Probably not," she sighed, "but it makes me feel better."

   "You make me feel better too," he said, putting the basket down, closing
the door, and pulling her into his arms.

   Within five minutes he was looming over her, his peculiarly shaped, bent
penis plugged firmly into her sex, and she was having the first of what she
knew would be four or five orgasms, as the tip of his prick scraped that
special spot in her pussy that seemed to just squirt out orgasms.

   Fifteen minutes later, he groaned, pushed his hips forward, and squirted
so much semen in her that it surged out around the base of his penis and
soaked their pubic hair.

   They lay there, giving each other little kisses, as they rested,
afterwards.

   "You know this isn't fair to Pru," she said softly.

   "She can't take it anymore," he said.  "I still think the doctor is
wrong about her due date.  She's just too big."

   "I feel so sorry for her," said Mirriam.  "I know what it's like to
waddle around like that." She didn't give a single thought to the fact that
Ted Brandywine had filled her pussy to overflowing at least six times in
the last two months.  She was not on the pill.  Nor had she ever owned a
diaphragm.  She had never used any kind of birth control, nor did she think
of it.  That was one reason she'd had eight children.

   "I'll take good care of her when she's recuperated," said Ted.  "You can
watch the baby while I do that."

   "You're so sweet," she said, kissing him.

   She'd gotten over the strange feeling of sharing a man with Prudence. 
Since that day in mid July, when they'd gone on a picnic with him, and he
had fucked them both, there had been twice, that they all got together and
he managed a repeat performance.  His stamina was incredible, as far as
Mirriam was concerned.  She knew that, before she left later, he'd squirt
her full of warm juice again, and quite possibly twice more.  She'd taken
to wearing two pairs of panties, when she knew she was going to see him ...
to do this.  One pair couldn't keep up with his production.

   She knew that she and Prudence were both smitten with him.  She had
loved Joe, the father of all seven of her daughters ...  loved him
desperately.  She didn't feel that kind of thing for Ted, though.  She felt
warm, and loved around him, and wanted to please him ...  but it wasn't
like Joe.  Prudence loved him, in her way, but she loved Bobby too.  Ted
didn't know about Bobby, and he didn't know that Bobby would probably be
taking care of Prudence too, after she'd had the baby.

   That didn't matter, though.  Ted had plenty to go around.  He proved it
by getting stiff again.

   She rode him, this time, which allowed her to fine tune the jerks of her
hips, as the tip of his penis scraped what she didn't know was her G spot.
Her belly ripped through a series of three orgasms in a row before she was
out of breath, and had to stop.  Then she used her muscles on him,
squeezing, and kissed him lovingly, until he gasped, and bathed her pussy
in warm semen again.

   She had missed this.  She hadn't known how MUCH she'd missed it, until
she was tempted to lie with her own son.  Ted had helped with that ... 
helped immensely.  Now, when Mirriam saw Bobby walking around in his
underwear, she was still interested, but could control the urge to pull him
into her bedroom and see what HE felt like, deep inside her.

   Thinking about Bobby got her going again, and she crawled off of Ted to
suck him back to life.  It took some time, but he got there, and she lay
under him again, matching his thrusts with thrusts of her own, as he
inundated her womb with a third helping of spunk.

   It was getting dark, when she took the empty basket out to the truck,
and drove back to the farm.

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

   Bev came to him that night.  She had just gone out on her first date
with a boy named Bill Gregory, whose father owned a farm implement company
on the edge of town.

   "How'd it go?" he asked.

   "I like him," she sighed.  "He's funny and cute too."

   "Where'd you meet him?" asked Bobby.

   "At the 4th of July fireworks," she said.

   "And it took him all this time to ask you out?"

   "He's kind of shy," she said.

   "Is he a good kisser?" asked Bobby.

   "I didn't kiss him!" she said, folding her arms under breasts that Bobby
was intimately familiar with.  "It was our first date!"

   "Did you want to?" he asked, slyly.

   She unbuttoned her shirt.

   "Yes, but I knew you'd be here for me." She stuck her tongue out at him.

   Bobby saw the door move.  It only opened a fraction ...  just a crack.

   Bev had her bra off now, and was rubbing her breasts.  They'd grown in
the last year, but she was still wearing the same bras.  She was pushing
down her jeans when he sat up suddenly and went to the door.  He jerked it
open, to find Linda on her knees, and Flo bent over her.  Both were dressed
in their summer nightgowns, and both gave a surprised yip.

   "Shhh," he cautioned.  "You may as well come on in."

   "We heard a noise," mumbled Flo, who was blushing.

   "No you didn't," he said calmly.  "You're curious and wanted to watch."
He motioned them into the room.  "So come on in and watch."

   "Mamma ..." said Flo, looking around nervously.

   "Mamma's dead to the world," whispered Linda, pulling Flo into the room.
"Every time she goes and delivers laundry, she comes home dog tired and
goes to bed.  I think she's working too hard."

   Bobby knew what was going on when his mother "delivered laundry". 
Prudence had told him.  She'd told him all about Ted, and what she and
Mirriam were doing with Ted.  Bobby was delighted.  As far as he was
concerned, it was high time his mother got some pleasure.  He'd been
willing to pleasure her himself, but she resisted that, so it was good she
was getting some loving somewhere else.  She deserved to be happy and
satisfied.  If Ted helped with Prudence, that would also lighten the load
on Bobby, who, at times, had five or more women to keep happy.

   He didn't say anything to the girls, though.  That was Mamma's business.

   "Just stand over there," he said, pointing to the far side of the bed.
"And don't make noise."

   The two girls scurried to where he had pointed.  Bev was naked, now, and
completely unembarrassed by being that way in front of her sisters and
brother.  She'd gotten used to watching him with Mary - even when he had
fucked Mary - and to Mary watching as Bobby satisfied her own desires.

   All three watched, as Bobby got naked too.  There were twin gasps as he
unveiled his prick, which stood straight out from his body, thick and long.
The sources of those two gasps, the only people in the room who were still
clothed, had never seen him like this.  When, a month before, they had
caught him licking Bev's pussy, he had been dressed.  Since then, Bev had
locked his door, when she came in for what they called "goodnight kisses".
She had forgotten to lock the door, this night, in her excitement to talk
to Bobby about her date, and get some relief from the horniness she felt.

   There were more gasps and moans, that night, most of them from the
observers.  Bev, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, leaned
over and sucked Bobby's prick until he warned her.  Then she climbed on,
laid his thick prick on his stomach and slid her pussy lips along it until
she came, and he spurted.  While that was happening, they were kissing
torridly, and he was sucking her breasts.

   Flo and Linda were both flushed, when she kissed Bobby for the last
time, got off, and then sucked him clean, licking up his semen, where it
lay on his stomach.

   "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," was all they heard in soft whispers, coming
from Flo's mouth, as Bev slurped up his spend and smacked her lips.

   Bev got dressed again, and went to the door.  She waited for her
sisters.

   Linda was fairly dancing with passion as she skipped to her sister, who
looked completely normal, which blew Linda away.  How could anyone look
normal after doing something like that?  She'd kissed Bobby, and other
boys, and that had been exciting.  But this ...  just WATCHING it blew her
mind.  She couldn't imagine what it would be like to FEEL it.  She knew
she'd have to rub between her legs to get to sleep that night.  She knew
that with every fiber of her being.

   Flo moved more slowly, still looking at Bobby, as he stood up.

   "Kiss me good night," he said, looking at Flo.

   "No, please," she whispered.

   He turned to Linda.  "Kiss me good night?"

   Linda did that happily, enjoying in the feel of his lips on hers, and of
her body being crushed to his.  She could feel the heat of his body, and
something was pressing the front of her nightgown between her legs.  She
backed up, and looked down, breathing hard.  He wasn't hard.  She'd felt
him pushing against her ...  and it wasn't even hard!

   He turned back to Flo, who was pale, and looked terrified.

   "You two go on," he said, to the younger girls.  "I think Flo and I need
to talk."

   The door closed softly.

   "T-t-talk?" moaned Flo.

   "I'm not going to hurt you, Flo," he said softly.  He didn't move toward
her.  He went to his bed, and picked up the underwear he'd been wearing
when Bev got there.  He stepped into it and pulled it up to cover his
prick.

   "T-t-that's way more than she needs to know for dating," gasped Flo.

   "Some of that is for practice ...  for later.  Some of it is to satisfy
her now."

   "You almost fucked her," whispered Flo.

   "I didn't even come close to fucking her," he said softly.  "She doesn't
want that, and I wouldn't do it anyway.  Not until ..." He didn't finish.

   "Until what?" She had to ask it.

   "When she's ready to go on her honeymoon ...  IF she wants it ...  I'll
make her honeymoon go easier for her."

   "WHY!" she wailed softly.

   "Because I want her to have fun on her honeymoon," he said.  "I don't
want her to be in pain, or afraid, or nervous.  I want her to be able to
give herself to her man without any negative emotions in the way.  I want
her to know what to expect, and to be eager for it to happen." He stared at
Flo, and then added, again: "IF ...  she wants that."

   "Did Mary want that?" she whispered.

   "Yes."

   Flo thought about the wedding.  She had been disgusted with all of the
furor over it ...  all of Mary's panic that things weren't ready ... 
wouldn't go well.  Yet, in all of that, she had not said a single word
about being nervous about having sex with her husband, after the wedding.
And, after the wedding, Mary had been impatient, but only to be gone ... 
on her honeymoon.  She had displayed no panic or worry about THAT.  Flo had
lived in the same room with Mary since they were both babies.  She knew
Mary like she knew the back of her hand.

   Or thought she did.

   Now, she knew that Mary had come here ...  done what Bev had done ... 
and MUCH more ...  and Flo had never had a clue.  She found that
astonishing, because Mary always talked to her about anything she was
worried about, or afraid of, or nervous over.  Like a clap of thunder, she
realized that, whatever had happened between Bobby and Mary ...  it had
not, in any way, shape or form, threatened her big sister.

   She thought back to what she'd just seen.  She'd seen Bev, obviously
horny ...  happily get satisfied.  When she'd left the room, her face was
calm and peaceful.  Bobby wasn't hurting her either.  It was obvious.

   Why, then, did she feel so terrified?  She felt like she might throw up
any second.

   She saw movement, and looked, to see Bobby stepping toward her.  The
panic coursed through her body.

   "Noooooo," she whined.  Her arms came up and crossed over her torso, in
an unconscious defensive posture.

   He put his hands on her shoulders, and she flinched.

   "I will never, ever hurt you," he said softly.

   She couldn't resist in any way as he pulled her toward him.  Her crossed
arms pressed to his naked chest, and his arms went around her.  He put his
chin on top of her head, and just stroked her back.

   "Nobody will ever hurt you if I can help it," he whispered.

   All he did was hug her.  It took a full minute for her to understand
that all he intended to do was hug her.  The relief she felt was like a
warm breeze flowing over her, and she began to relax.

   "I'm so scared," she moaned, into his chest.  She smelled his skin.

   "You don't have to be afraid of me," he said.

   Slowly, her arms unclenched, and her hands went to his sides.  The feel
of his skin under her hands was hot.  Almost without any thought, her hands
slowly slid to his back, and she hugged him back.  His hands, smoothing
over her back, felt strong.  She realized that her breasts, unfettered,
under her nightgown, were touching his chest, about the same place that all
that thick white stuff had spurted on him.  Bev had actually licked and
sucked it up, like it was candy!

   She felt the tingle in her nipples, but didn't understand it.  She
suddenly felt warm and safe in his arms.  He wasn't forcing her ...  making
her do anything.  He had demanded a kiss, but he hadn't forced her.

   His hand came up to stroke her hair.  With sudden, crystal clear
clarity, she recognized the things her body was trying to tell her.

   She was horny!

   She was scared to death of him ...  but horny at the same time!  It
didn't make any sense!

   "You OK now?" he asked, quietly.

   "No," she moaned.  "I feel all twisted up inside."

   "You're still scared?"

   "No ...  yes ...  I don't know," she moaned.

   "Do you believe I won't hurt you?"

   "Yes," she sighed.

   "Does your stomach hurt?"

   "Yes,"

   "Do your breasts feel hot and tingly?"

   "How did you know that?" she asked his chest.

   He pushed her away, gently.

   "I won't touch you," he said.  "But I need to look at one thing."

   She stood there, staring at him, as his fingers came to the neck of her
nightgown and pulled it out, away from her body.  His head came forward,
and he looked down ...  inside ...  at her body!  She felt weak, but the
panic didn't come back.

   "Your nipples are stiff," he said.  "You're just horny.  That's all."

   "That's ALL!?" she moaned.  "I don't want to BE horny!"

   "Your body knows what it wants.  You can't do much about that," he said.

   "What am I supposed to do?" she whined.

   "You know what to do," he said.  "Go to bed and rub.  You'll feel
better."

   That he knew she did that should have been shocking, but, compared to
what she'd just seen, it was only a mild surprise.

   "You have a room to yourself, now.  Get naked and get satisfied," he
said.

   "You're just awful!" she moaned.

   "I only want you to be happy," he said.

   "You want to do THAT to me," she said, pointing at the bed.

   "If you wanted it, I'd be delighted to help," he admitted.  "But you
don't, and that's fine."

   "Why do you want me to kiss you?" she asked.  "Why did you kiss Linda
like that?"

   "Because I love you.  Go ask Linda if it felt like I loved her, when I
did that."

   Flo didn't have to.  She'd kissed, or been kissed by Bobby twice, now,
and both times she'd felt the passion and love in his lips.  It had made
her squirm, and now she knew why.  When he kissed her ...  she got horny.
For her own brother!  The next thing that popped into her mind was that
Mary and Bev had gotten horny for him too ...  and had done something about
it.  They made it look so simple ...  almost normal.

   "You don't have to kiss me," he said.  "I was wrong to tell you to. 
I'll apologize to Linda tomorrow."

   Flo was one of those stubborn kinds of women who, if told to do
something, just naturally resisted.  When given a choice, though, she might
choose to do the very thing she would have resisted to do if told to.  She
did that in this instance.  He had stroked the fear out of her.  Her body
was responding to this man who, at times terrified her, and at times, made
her feel more loved than anybody other than her mother.

   "I'll kiss you," she said, softly.

   Bobby knew how stubborn she was, and didn't argue.  He let her come to
him, and let her put her hands on his waist.  He let her reach up with her
lips.  His kiss was just as gentle and soft as it had been the last time.
He knew, instinctively that a hard, passion filled kiss would scare her. 
So he sucked and licked just her lips.  She held him tighter, the longer he
kissed her, and he actually felt her nipples push through her nightgown,
into his chest.

   She broke that kiss, opened her eyes, and immediately kissed him again.
He let her push her lips hard against his, but kept his hands on her back,
stroking softly.

   She was panting when that one was over.

   "I have to go," she said, her voice husky.

   "That would be a good idea," he said, looking down.  The front of his
shorts was sticking out.

   "I did that?" she asked, her voice high.

   "I love you," he said simply.

   "I have to go!" she rasped, and darted for the door.

   "Night night," he called softly.  She turned her face, just long enough
to look into his eyes, and grinned.

   Then she was gone.

   Chapter Two

   Bev picked up the ringing phone and listened.

   "It's for you Bobby!" she yelled.  "Somebody named Christy."

   Bobby came to the phone, and she told him her parents had approved the
work.

   "When do you want to start?" he asked.

   "Could we do it tomorrow?"

   "We can get started," he said.  "I'll come over in the morning and take
a look.  We'll have to choose the paint and all that.  We should be able to
start work by noon, but I have another job I have to do at two."

   "Could we pick out the paint today?" she asked.  "Then we could start
working tomorrow."

   "OK," said Bobby.  "It will take me a while to get there.  I have to
ride my bike."

   "You live with your mother ...  and don't have a car?" She giggled. 
"How about I come pick you up?  I have a car and everything." He could hear
the smile in her voice.

   "OK," he said.

   He gave her directions, and then started walking.  He'd get to the
blacktop by the time she got to the same place, and it would shorten her
trip.

   He was waiting there, when she pulled up and he got in.

   "I thought you said you lived down that road," she said, pulling a U
turn and heading back to town.

   "I do.  I just walked to save you some time."

   "I walk all the time.  I bet I put in five miles a day," she said.

   "I can tell," he said, looking over at her.

   "Don't look at me," she said, blushing.  "I've lost so much weight.  I
hardly have any boobs left."

   "They look fine to me," he said.

   She darted a look at him, and blushed.

   They drove without talking to the hardware store, and she spent an hour
deciding which colors to use on her walls.  She had decided she wanted a
diagonal line, separating upper and lower, with different colors.  She
picked a third color for the molding.  Bobby picked out a roller kit for
her, and a trim brush, and they loaded the stuff in her trunk.

   She opened the door to the house, while he held the paint.

   "My parents are at work," she said.  "I didn't exactly tell them about
you."

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "They're very traditional," she said.  "They wouldn't think it was
proper for me to be here, alone, with a man."

   "You shouldn't sneak around behind their backs," he said.  "I could have
come over and met them.  Who are they?"

   "Harold and Betty Nickerson," she said.

   "I know Harold," he said.  "He works for the USDA."

   "Yeah," she said, surprised.  "He works in the subsidies office."

   "We used to get checks from him," said Bobby.  "Back when we were still
farming the land ourselves."

   "They'd still be unhappy about me being here with you alone," she said.

   "Well, then," said Bobby.  "We'll have to make sure they don't find out
about it." He looked around.  "I know you were planning on starting
tomorrow, but I have time to show you a couple of things.  You might get
some of it done today, and we can work on it more tomorrow."

   "OK," she said.

   Bobby spread out a ground cloth, and got everything ready.  The paint
had just been shaken in the machine, when it was mixed, so he didn't need
to stir it.  He asked for a plastic bowl, and she got it from the kitchen.
He poured a dab of paint in it, and showed her how to load the brush.  Then
he showed her how to steady the hand, with the little finger, while running
the sharp edge of the brush along a piece of molding.  She tried it, and
her hand slid expertly down the wall.

   "Wow," he said.  "You're better than most, for being new at it."

   "I did some painting in high school," she said, her eyes on the brush as
it slid along.  "Landscapes and such."

   "You paint pictures?" he asked.  "Can I see some?"

   "I gave away most of them," she said.  "I did them for people for
Christmas, and birthdays, and stuff like that." She smiled and got into the
closet, coming out with an album.

   "What I think I was good at was photography," she said.  "I loved
composing pictures in my mind, and then trying to get the camera to capture
them that way." She opened the book, and he leafed through it.  She had an
eye for buildings that showed age, or deterioration, and an eye for mixing
curves and straight lines together in interesting ways.  Bobby was no
photographer, but he knew good pictures when he saw them.

   "You're not bad," he said.  "You should send some of these to magazines.
Maybe you could sell them."

   "That was just for high school photography club," she said.  "I'm older
now."

   "That doesn't mean you're not a good photographer," he said.  "I'd hire
you to take pictures of my sisters, and mother."

   "Really?" She beamed.

   "They're growing up.  We don't even own a camera.  I'll trade you all
this work, for you taking portraits of each of them."

   "How many are there?" she asked.

   "Seven," he said.  "Eight, including Mamma."

   "Dalton!" she yipped.  "You're Mary Dalton's brother!"

   "I am, indeed," he said, smiling.  "Only she's Mary Brogan now.  She got
married in July."

   "I went to school with Mary!" she said.  "I didn't know her very well.
She didn't belong to any clubs and such."

   "I'd want you to do a portrait of her too," he said.  "She just got
married, but she looks the same as when she was my sister."

   "She still IS your sister!" she said, chiding him.

   "That's why I want a portrait of her," he said.

   "I'll think about it," she said.  "Right now I need to be a house
painter."

   "Well, you have the trim work down better than I thought you would. 
Work on that and I'll be back by later to check on you.  If you stop, be
sure to clean the brush carefully, or you'll ruin it."

   "OK," she said.

   "And you might want to change clothes," he said.  "No matter how careful
you are, you'll get paint on whatever you're wearing.

   "I don't have any clothes I can get paint on," she said.

   "Well, pick something, because you're going to get paint on you.  I
promise."

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

   He left, to go take care of a leaky faucet, for Mr.  Farthington, who
was about eighty, and refused to go into a nursing home.  The house was
older than he was, and hadn't been very well maintained for the last twenty
or so years.  Bobby stopped by, every once in a while, and took care of
whatever was needed.  Mr.  Farthington didn't have much money, but he had a
garage full of old junk, that Bobby was welcome to any time he wanted any
of it.  That stash of junk had supplied something Bobby needed several
times.

   The faucet needed a new washer, which Bobby had brought, so the job went
quickly.  Bobby went back to the Nickerson house.  Her car was there, but
no one answered the door.  Afraid she'd fallen from the ladder he'd set up
for her to use, while painting up around the ceiling, he tried the door,
and found it open.  Loud music assailed his ears.  The strident repetitive
synthesizer notes of "Won't Get Fooled Again", by the Who, came blasting
out of her room, as he walked toward it.  It was almost time for the famous
"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHAHHHH" to come in, that people could never quite figure
out, because the organ pulsed all over the place, repeating some phrases.
She hit it right on the money, though, as he stepped into the room.

   Apparently, she hadn't been kidding when she said she didn't own any
clothes she could get paint on.

   She had decided to paint in just her panties.

   Her head was back, her face to the ceiling, as she sang
"YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH" along with Roger Daltrey, howling at the ceiling, with
her arm thrust out, paintbrush in hand.  She was facing partly away from
Bobby, which is why she didn't see him until she turned, dancing, and faced
him.

   He admired her muscled legs, the swell of her hips, where light blue
bikini panties perched.  Her waist was thin, and her stomach flat as a
board.  He could see ribs, where they started, but only because she had
taken in a huge breath to sing with.  The ribs faded as they went under her
breasts.  Her breasts were indeed small, completely round, with tiny dark
brown areolas and nipples.  All in all, she looked about like she was
fifteen, except that her whole body, when taken together, gave evidence of
her maturity.  Her dark hair, cut in a shag, had flopped over one eye as
she turned.

   Her mouth went into an "O" as the shock of his presence registered.

   Bobby simply turned around, to face the door.

   He winced, as he heard the needle scrape across the LP on the turntable,
in one corner, and it was suddenly silent.

   "I was afraid you'd fallen," he said.  "I knocked, but you couldn't hear
me."

   "It's OK," she gasped.  "Let me get something on."

   "I can just leave," he said.

   "No, it's OK, really," she said.  "You said you'd be back ...  I just
didn't think it would be this soon."

   "My other job went quicker than I thought it would," he said, still
talking to the hallway.

   "OK," she said.

   He turned around.  She had put on a T-shirt that went to her mid thighs.
She was blushing furiously.

   "SHORTS!" she gasped.  "I forgot the shorts!"

   Bobby turned around again, grinning.

   "It's OK," she said, nervously.  "I'm covered."

   He turned around again.  She was pulling a pair of shorts on.  The
zipper gaped, showing her baby blue panties again, as she buttoned them. 
Then she zipped them up.

   "I'm so embarrassed," she moaned.

   "Don't be," he said.  "It was my fault."

   "I didn't want to get paint on anything," she said.

   He grinned at her.  She had paint on her jaw, on both hands, and spots
of it on her forearms.  He picked up the rag he'd used earlier, left the
room to get it damp, and returned.

   She stood, tentatively, as he approached her, and her eyes widened,
until she realized what he was doing.  He cleaned her jaw, and dabbed at
two more spots on her face.  Her hands would have to be washed thoroughly,
but he got most of it off her arms, while she stood and let him clean her
up.

   "You should paint in the nude all the time," he said, casually, as he
moved the rag over her arms.

   She blushed again, but smiled.

   "Nobody else has ever seen me like that," she said.  "Well, except for
Richard."

   "I'm a very lucky guy," he said.

   She smiled shyly.  "Thank you."

   "I'm surprised," he said.  "Most girls would have thrown something at
me."

   "You turned around," she said.  "Most guys wouldn't have done that."

   "I didn't want to," he said.

   "Now you're flirting with me," she said.

   "Uh huh," he agreed.

   "I'm a married woman," she said firmly.

   "Yes Ma'am," he said, stepping back.  "No more flirting." He crossed his
heart and she giggled, blushing again.

   He looked around.  She'd done very well, and he told her so.  She
beamed, but pointed out all the spots where she'd made mistakes.

   "OK," he said.  "Tomorrow morning, I'll teach you how to use the
roller."

   "OK!" she said brightly.  "I like painting."

   "I like to watch you paint," he said.  He put a contrite look on his
face and held up a hand.  "Sorry," he said.  "It's a habit."

   "Oh?" she smiled.  "You flirt with all the girls?"

   "Only the good looking married ones, whose husbands aren't around to
beat me to a pulp," he said.

   "I don't think too many men could beat you up at all," she said, looking
at his broad shoulders, and the muscles in his arms, where they were bare.
"Richard is a Green Beret, so he might be able to ...  but not many could."

   He grinned.  "Thank you.  I like being flirted with."

   "I wasn't flirting!" she yipped.  She blushed again.  "Ohhhh, go on. 
I'll see you in the morning.  Don't show up until after nine.  I'll try to
be a little more presentable."

   "Darn," he sighed.

   "Ohhhh you!" she giggled.  "Go on.  I suddenly feel like I'm twelve
again, and a man is looking at me for the first time!"

   "You don't look anywhere near twelve," said Bobby.  "Trust me on that."

   He turned, and left, before she could respond.

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

   Christy sat on the bed.  She couldn't believe what had happened.  He'd
seen her naked!  Almost naked, anyway.  But he'd turned around ... 
treating her with respect.  She'd seen the appreciation in his eyes, even
after she was dressed.  And he'd FLIRTED with her!  She felt a streak of
pleasure go through her.  She knew she should have been outraged.  Her
parents would have been outraged.  But it felt GOOD to be ...  admired ...
desired.  She hadn't been a sexual being very long, and Richard wasn't what
she'd dreamed of, at least not in bed.

   She closed her eyes.  The way he'd said "You don't look anywhere near
twelve," reverberated in her mind.  His voice had sounded so ...  sexy!

   She'd flirted with him too.  He was right about that.  She couldn't
believe she'd done that either.  She'd never flirted in her whole life, as
far as she knew.  Maybe a little bit with Richard, when they were dating.
He'd made all the moves then, kissing her and touching her, until she was
so hot she let him do all kinds of things she knew she shouldn't.  But
they'd felt so good!

   She knew she shouldn't flirt with this man either, or let him flirt with
her.  But it felt so good!

   She sat there for another ten minutes, her mind wandering.  When she
caught herself imagining going to the door in the morning dressed only in
panties, and letting him in, she blushed, got up, and set about cleaning
up. The brush was lying where she'd tossed it while she was putting on her
shirt.  She looked down at her shirt.  She could see her nipples poking
through it, plain as day, even though it was loose.  Had they been doing
that when he was there?

   She shook herself, and put the record back on, turning it up again.

   It didn't help much, though.  She kept wondering what HE would look like
...  painting in the nude.

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

   It wasn't any easier the next day.  When Bobby showed up, Christy
couldn't keep from looking at him.  He hadn't shaved, and the dark stubble
on his chin made her want to feel it.  She loved nothing more than being
tickled and scratched on her throat, by short, stiff stubble.

   What really bothered her was that he did NOT flirt with her.  He was
very businesslike.  First he showed her how to draw a line where the first
color would barely go over.  Later, he said, they'd tape that line, and the
second contrasting color would be applied.  That would make a crisp, clean
line between the colors.  Then he taught her how to load the roller, and
how to make W shapes with it, and then fill in the blanks between the
lines. While she used the roller, he painted trim with astonishing speed,
never once getting paint on the wall.

   She had to stop, when the lower halves of two walls and the upper halves
of the other two walls were done.  The paint had to dry before she could
tape the lines, and start on the new color.

   Bobby cleaned his brush, and they took a break to get a snack.  Once
settled into chairs, and munching, Christy looked at him.  He looked so
completely normal, just like any guy you might bump into on the street, and
yet, somehow, he was more appealing than most men she bumped into on the
street.

   He was looking at her too ...  just looking at her ...  and it made her
heart beat faster.

   "I see you found something to paint in," he said, his eyes wandering
over the T shirt she was wearing.

   She had thought about not wearing a bra, when she put that shirt on. 
The thought of that had made her heart beat faster too.  Then she had
forced herself to be sensible.

   "I figured I had shocked you enough already," she said.

   "I have seven sisters," he tossed off, comfortably.  "I'm used to seeing
good looking women running around half naked."

   "It didn't look like it when I looked at your ..." She clapped a hand
over her mouth, and her eyes went wide.  She hadn't meant to say that out
loud!  Even worse, her eyes dropped, obviously telegraphing what she had
been thinking about.  The table blocked her view of the front of his pants,
though, something she was thankful for, at the moment.

   "Well, I guess I'm used to seeing them," he said.  "You'd be surprised,
though.  Sometimes I even react to them.  I'm just a man, after all."

   "I bet that really gets a rise out of them," she said.  She blinked. 
That hadn't come out quite right either.

   He laughed, though, and she felt better.

   "I think they're used to it by now," he said.  "I hope I didn't make you
feel too uncomfortable."

   "Most guys would be all proud of their ..." Christy put her fork down,
closed her eyes, and looked away.  Her mouth just wouldn't cooperate with
her, today.  "Please don't listen to me," she added.  "I think I'll just be
quiet for a little bit."

   He laughed again.  "Don't worry about it.  Everybody's human, and reacts
to things like that, whether they want to admit it or not.  It's part of
being a man or woman.  We were made to try to attract each other."

   She looked back up, and his face was serious looking again.

   "It's just that I'm married, and married women aren't supposed to ... 
notice things ...  not like that."

   "Walking down the aisle doesn't make you less human," he said.  "In
fact, I think it makes you more human, at least in our culture.  It allows
you to express yourself the way you wanted to in the first place."

   "You're right!" she said, sensing the truth in his words.  "Before we
were married, I wanted to do all these things, and it was against the
rules, and wrong and all that, and then, suddenly, it was OK!"

   "That's what I mean," he said.  "We have all these human feelings, but
society says 'Hey!  Knock that off!' and we try to stop them.  But they're
part of who we are.  I couldn't help but notice how sexy you looked, when I
saw you that way.  I knew I couldn't do anything about it, but I still felt
it."

   "What would you have done if I hadn't been married?" she asked.

   "I would have tried to keep you exactly like you were," he said.  "More
than that, actually."

   She felt her heart thumping in her chest.

   "I don't think I'm used to a man being so ...  honest," she sighed.

   "Well, like I said, I hope I don't make you feel uncomfortable," he
said. "I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable."

   "I think that's one of the things that makes you so attractive," she
said, again, not meaning to say it out loud.

   He grinned.

   "Now that we both know how attracted we are to each other ...  how about
we do some more painting?" He grinned wider.  "You can stay dressed, as
much as it pains me to say it."

   "Oh you!" she moaned.  "I'll meet you there.  I have to go potty."

   She did feel a little bladder pressure, but the primary reason she went
to the bathroom was to separate herself from him, and give herself time to
get a grip.  She dropped her shorts, and sat.  Then she stared at her naked
legs, and giggled, realizing that, while he had said she could stay
clothed, she had just come in here and made her legs naked.  On impulse,
she reached back, under her shirt, and unclipped her bra.  She pulled it
through the arm holes of her shirt, and tossed it on top of the clothes in
the hamper.  It felt deliciously naughty to stand up, pull her shorts back
up, and feel the shirt against her nipples, which were already hard.

   She stood, looking in the mirror.  They were obvious.  She saw spots of
paint on her face.  Ignoring them, she went to put herself with him again.

   As he helped her put up the tape that would make the diagonal separation
between the lighter color, which she had put on the wall first, and the
darker color, which would complete the wall, their bodies touched.  That
touch was electric, to Christy, and she felt a semi-permanent heat in her
face.  She couldn't believe she was so attracted to him.  She was married,
but she wanted another man!  She tried to convince herself that it was only
because Richard had been gone eight months, during which no wall knocking
had happened, and she had had no orgasms.  Then, her rational mind reminded
her that, even when Richard WAS there, and the bed knocked the wall, there
had been very few orgasms anyway.  She'd never played with herself ...  not
intentionally.  Her upbringing had stressed that.  She was still terrified
that her parents would find out that she wasn't a virgin, when she wore
that white dress at her wedding.  That was part of what made her attraction
to Bobby seem so terrible.  She knew her parents would be furious with her
for even entertaining such feelings, much less going braless intentionally
around him.

   "Damn!" she blurted, as the roller went over the tape, making a big,
dark blue mistake on the lighter color below it.  She was so distracted by
Bobby that she hadn't been paying attention.

   "No problem," he said, wiping at the mistake with a damp rag.  It came
off beautifully, and she felt better.

   She tried to clamp down on her emotions, and paid better attention to
what she was doing.  To avoid thinking about Bobby, she tried to think
about Richard.  But, as so often happens when situations are left
unresolved, all she could think about was his flaws ...  the neglect she
felt, even when he was in bed with her ...  the lack of fulfilling physical
love in her life.  Her frustration grew, instead of abating, and she ran
the roller into the ceiling.

   "Damn!" she moaned again.

   "That, we'll have to touch up," he said calmly, from behind her.  "The
ceiling is pebbled, and I can't wipe that off.  You need to be a little
more careful."

   She could feel his breath on her neck, and she shuddered.  She turned,
tears in her eyes.  He was right there, inches away from her.

   "Hey," he said, his voice soft.  "It's not that big a deal."

   She might have been all right, if he hadn't raised his thumb, to wipe
away one tear that rolled down her cheek.  His touch, gentle as it was felt
like a body blow to her.  Instinct took over, and she rose on tiptoes, her
arms, one hand still holding the roller, went around his neck as she kissed
the lips in front of her face.

   Her mind reported instantly that this was the wrong thing to do ... 
that it was insane ...  that it was unthinkable.

   The kiss he returned, though, blew all that out of her brain like a
strong breath blows the seeds off a dandelion head.  In his lips, she felt
passion that threatened to overwhelm her, and yet, he didn't press hard. 
While she didn't know it, he was kissing her almost exactly like he had
kissed Florence, the night before, trying not to scare her.  His kiss was
tender in a way she had never been kissed before, and it stoked the fires
in her belly, until she pulled with her arms, the roller impacting the
shoulder of his shirt, and she crushed her lips to his.

   She had to stop to breathe, and pulled away, her eyes still closed.

   "Why did you do that?" Her voice was airy, and breathless.  Her mind
chuckled and told her he hadn't done anything ...  that SHE was the one who
did this ...  and yet she was trying to push it all off on him.

   "You took off your bra," he said.

   She opened her eyes, and felt her breasts pushing into his chest.

   "I didn't mean ..."

   "I know," he said, still holding her gently.  "It felt like you needed a
kiss."

   "I need more," she moaned.

   "I know that too," he said, leaning down to brush his lips against hers.
"But you aren't ready for that."

   "What do you mean?" she moaned.

   "I don't want you to do something you'll feel guilty about later," he
said.  "You need to think this over."

   "But ..."

   He cut her off with another kiss, just like the first one, and she felt
thrills shoot through her belly.

   "I'd like nothing more than to paint with you naked," he said.  "But
it's not the right thing to do right now."

   She slumped.  He was right.  She knew he was right.  As much as she
wanted to kiss him more, and feel his hands on her body, she knew she
wouldn't be able to enjoy it.  Not really.  She felt terribly guilty
already.

   "You're right," she sighed.

   "Good girl," he said, patting her back.  "You're almost done.  Think
about the paint."

   She tried.  It was a little easier, in a way.  For one thing, one of her
questions had been answered.  She now had some idea of what it was like to
kiss him.  That knowledge wasn't very comforting, because she now knew she
wanted to do it again.  On the other hand, he had stopped, and some of his
control had leached into her, somehow.

   As she painted, she thought about that.  He had stopped.  She wasn't all
that experienced, but the limited knowledge she did have suggested that men
didn't just stop.  Men went for what they wanted.  They weren't concerned,
it didn't seem, for what the woman wanted.  If given an opening, they just
went for it.  She had given him an opening, even though she hadn't intended
to.  He had noticed the removal of her bra, and she had kissed him.  Most
men would have had her naked immediately and been knocking the wall with
the bed.

   She wondered why he'd stopped.  More correctly, she wondered why he'd
been ABLE to stop.  If he'd have pressed her, she'd have done anything he
wanted to do.  She was quite sure of that.  She remembered thinking, during
one of those kisses - she couldn't remember which one - that, if he told
her to strip and spread her legs, she'd have done it in an instant.  So ...
how could HE stop?  Was it because he wasn't really attracted to her?

   She got near the ceiling again, and concentrated on gong only to where
the brush had already trimmed it.  When that was over, her mind fell
immediately back to the question.

   How could he stop?  She remembered the kisses.  Those were not from a
man who was turned off by the woman he was kissing.  She had felt his want,
in those kisses.  His hands had said the same thing, as they softly stroked
her sides.

   She thought about his hands.  They had been on her sides ...  right next
to her breasts ...  but he hadn't groped her.  She wondered briefly if her
small breasts weren't desirable.  Then she remembered his voice, when he
said she didn't look anything like a twelve year old.  No ...  he liked her
breasts.

   The inevitable conclusion that she drew was that he was right.  He
wanted her, but he cared more about her feelings than his own want.  In
that instant, she knew that she would give herself to him.  Some how ... 
some way ...  she wanted to give him what he wanted.  That it would be
fantastic for her too was a given.

   Then she thought about that.  How could she know that whatever he did,
she would love it?  She didn't love all the things Richard did, and she'd
married Richard.  She turned, to look over her shoulder at him.  Did she
wish she was married to him?

   Some part of her intelligence, deep down, saw in Bobby a beautiful wild
animal that couldn't be tamed.  He was older than her.  He was gorgeous. 
He was the sexiest man she could remember ever meeting.  Other women had to
have seen this in him ...  but none of them could capture him.  She almost
giggled, as she compared him to a poem, written, perhaps, for one person,
but shared, and owned by the world.  Thousands of people benefited from the
poem, but no one owned it, not even the person who it had been written for.

   Then, suddenly, the walls were finished.  Bobby carefully peeled the
tape off.  He had finished the trim and, unknown to her, had simply watched
her paint.  His thoughts, she would never know.  She would never know that
his desire was controlled by the need of the woman he was with.  He knew
very well that there were women who didn't need what he had to offer, and
that to force it on them wouldn't work.  But there were women who DID need
what he offered.  For Bobby, it was just a natural part of his makeup to
use his talents, to help other people.  If that included his talent for
listening, and understanding, and sympathizing, that was fine.  If it
included the talent between his legs, that was OK too.  Sometimes it was
sensational.  He wondered idly what it would be like to lie with Christy.
He had recognized the conflicting emotions in her behavior.  She was
lonely, but that wasn't a good reason for him to engage her sexually.  She
was beautiful and sexy too, but again, those weren't good enough reasons.
Time would tell.  He had time.

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

   While they cleaned up - cleaning the roller cover and brush, sealing the
paint cans back up, picking up the drop cloth, and taking the ladder back
to the garage - Christy was still thinking about what he had said.  She was
more convinced than ever that he was right ...  had done exactly the right
thing for her.  She WAS married.  Richard was serving his country, a
country that was less than thankful for that service.  She would not
dishonor him by giving in to emotions that she had no business feeling.  At
the same time, she needed some attention, and the pure, unbridled joy of
knowing that a man desired her had given her a tremendous lift.  He had
stopped.  He had control.  He hadn't complained that she was making his
balls hurt, or used any guilt trips on her, like boys had tried to do when
she was dating.  Flirting was all right.  Flirting felt good.

   "Can I still flirt with you?" she asked suddenly, turning to look at
him.

   "I love it when women flirt with me," he said.

   "Thank you," she said, thinking about him stopping.

   "You're very welcome."

   "Would you clean me up?" she asked.

   He looked her over ...  ALL over ...  and she felt the thrill in her
belly.

   "The roller puts little spatters of paint all over the place," he said.
"I think I can get most of them."

   She stood there, amazed at the ecstasy she felt as he rubbed the damp
rag over her exposed skin.  One of his hands held her arm, while the rag
removed tiny specks of paint, and she gloried in the feel of that strong
hand, that felt so good, but wasn't the slightest bit threatening.  She
arched her neck, as he stroked it, and stood quietly as he wrapped the rag
around one finger and took three or four full minutes to dab all over her
face.  When he knelt and worked on her legs, she felt the heat in her loins
again.

   "You have such beautiful legs," he said.  "Your muscles are so well
defined."

   "It's because of my hikes," she said.  A sudden thought leapt into her
mind.  This project was over.  She had no need to see him again.  But she
WANTED to see him again ...  to be around him.  He made her feel so good!

   "Do you want to go on a hike with me?" she said.  "I can show you some
neat things."

   Bobby didn't mention that he'd lived in Granger all his life, and, as a
child, ridden his bike over every road and path that existed.

   "Sure," he said.  "I'd like that.  I need the exercise anyway."

   "You're in better shape than any man I know," she said, scoffing.

   "Yeah," he said.  "But I don't get that kind of exercise.  The closest I
get to that is riding my bike."

   "Why don't you have a car?" she asked.

   "Mamma has a truck," he said.  "A car would be nice, but I don't really
have to have one.  It's kind of a luxury, right now.  Most of what I make
goes to the farm."

   He started working on her upper chest, and she sighed as the rag dipped
down and pushed at her T shirt collar.

   "I could take it off," she sighed.  She hadn't meant to say that either,
but, somehow, it wasn't so embarrassing any more.

   "I'd love that," he said.  "But it's not needed.  You're done."

   He dropped the rag, held her face with both hands, and kissed her gently
on the lips.  She almost wiggled with pleasure.

   "That's how I flirt," he said, grinning.  "You sure you want to keep
flirting?"

   "I'm sure," she said, meaning it completely.

   They set a date for the hike.  He was busy the following Saturday, so
they set it for the Saturday after that.

   "Bring your camera," said Bobby.

   "OK, I will!" she said.

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

   Christy felt much better, for some reason.  It wasn't because he had
left, and the temptation was gone.  She decided that it was because she had
wanted to do something she'd be sorry for, and hadn't done it.  She
credited him with that, not herself.  Still, it hadn't happened, and she
was glad about that.  The kisses HAD happened, but she was glad about that
too.

   That got her to wondering if she would have REALLY felt guilty, if
something more had happened, or not.

   Chapter Three

   He had been to see Prudence, earlier in the day.  She was almost
bursting, and was miserable, but making the best of it.  Her due date was
still a week away, in the first week of October.  Mamma had seen Ted today,
and had come home glowing.  Her hug had been sensual, an after effect of
the loving he knew Ted had given her.

   "You feeling better these days?" he'd asked, pressing her loins with his
gently.

   "Yes, I am, young man," she said firmly, pressing back.  "And I'll thank
you not to push that thing against me."

   He could tell she didn't mean it, and had kissed her again.  She hadn't
pushed him away.

   "I'm glad I met him," she said, when he pulled back.  "He makes it much
easier to resist you."

   Bobby smiled.  "It doesn't make it any easier for me to resist you," he
countered.

   "You just behave yourself," she said, still clasping him to her.  "I
said it was easier, not easy."

   "A boy can dream," sighed Bobby.

   "A boy shouldn't dream about his mother," she said.

   "A boy dreams about every beautiful, sexy woman he sees," grinned Bobby.
"Whether she's his mother or not."

   She did push him away then, but he could see that she wanted to kiss him
again.  That was enough.  He didn't really want, in one sense, to make love
with his mother.  On the other hand, the idea didn't bother him at all.  He
had no idea if it would ever happen or not, but that was the same as lots
of other women he knew.  To Bobby, Mirriam Dalton was two women ...  his
mother ...  and Mirriam Dalton.

   "It's late," she said, even though it was only eight-thirty.  "I'm going
to bed."

   "Again?" he teased.

   She shot him a look, frowned, and then stuck her tongue out at him.

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

   The windows were open, and a cool breeze was blowing through them. 
Bobby lay on his bed, reading.  He expected the door to open, and for three
sisters to come in.

   He wasn't disappointed.

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

   On the last day of September, Bobby was sharpening an axe when he saw
Christy's car drive up to the house.  She got out, carrying a case, and a
tripod.  He walked out to meet her.

   "Hey," he said, smiling.

   She smiled back.  That his simple greeting sent a thrill through her
belly was neither unexpected, anymore, nor disconcerting.

   "Hi, handsome," she flirted.  "Are they all ready?"

   "Are who ready?" he asked.

   "Your mother and sisters!" she said.  "I'm here to make the portraits."

   "You are?"

   "Didn't they tell you?" she asked, surprised.  "I talked to your mother
on the phone."

   "Nobody said a word," he said.  "Let's go find out."

   In fact, the girls had been excited all day, and Bobby had noticed that,
but he hadn't explored it.  One or the other of them was always excited
about something or other.  He'd been busy all day getting things ready for
winter.  He'd tuned up the tractor, which, while it wasn't used for farming
any longer, was still critical when the snows fell deep, or a dead tree
needed being hauled where it could be transformed into fire wood.  He
hadn't been in the house since lunch.

   As it turned out, the girls WERE ready.  Mirriam was too.  They had
spent all afternoon getting ready too, and the transformation from regular
sister, and same old Mamma, to women who wanted to be beautiful for a
portrait was almost alarming.  The house was full of gorgeous women, in
their best dresses, wearing makeup, and with their hair done up.

   Bobby was ignored, for the most part, once he'd made the introductions,
and Christy started scurrying around, setting up a place for the portraits
to be taken.  She apologized for not having good lights, and then commenced
to make her own, out of theirs, using cardboard and tin foil, assisted by
tape and other things they expected Bobby to produce instantly.

   Finally the posing area was ready, and the camera was set up and ready.

   Matilda and Betty were first, both because they were the youngest, at
fourteen, and because they were twins.  Each sat separately, and then
together.  They had, for once, dressed in identical outfits, and their long
blond hair was done in big hanging curls.  The only difference was the
color of the ribbon in their hair.  Matilda's was dark purple, and Betty's
was forest green.

   Then Susie went, followed up the chain by Linda and Beverly.  When Bev
was done, Florence stepped up and sat down.

   Bobby had been watching all of them, and was astonished at how beautiful
each one had looked.  He reacted to them as females, because they just
didn't look like the sisters he was used to seeing every day.  He had one
moment of ironic thought that this was being done because he had wanted to
have something to remember them by, later in life, and the product would
end up being something he had seen only once, in real life.

   When Flo sat down, Bobby almost sighed.  Flo was the tomboy, who almost
never had her hair out of a pony tail.  She had begged Mamma to let her
hack it all off, when she was fourteen.  Mamma had simply forbidden it, and
that was that.  Now that auburn hair was swept into whorls that seemed to
defy gravity.  He'd find out later that Mamma had helped her with it, and
that, as wonderful as it looked, it felt hard, and brittle to the touch,
because of all the hair spray that had been put on it.  The dress she was
wearing, which, in itself was startling, came a few inches above her knees,
and dipped low enough in the front to show the swells of her modest
breasts. She was tanned, from all the time she spent outside, and somehow,
they had made it look as if the exposed skin of her upper chest was also
tanned.  She was wearing lipstick, something Bobby had never seen on her
lips, and makeup, which just blew him away.  Her eyelashes looked longer,
somehow and, as she sat, she looked at everyone through lowered lashes.

   "I feel stupid," came Flo's completely recognizable voice.  It was
almost jarring, hearing her normal voice from this vision of loveliness.

   "You're gorgeous," sighed Bobby.

   She pinked up.  It could be seen even through her makeup, and Christy
immediately triggered the camera.

   "I wasn't ready!" said Flo.

   "We'll take more," said Christy.

   She did take more, but, later, when Bobby saw the photographs, the one
he fell in love with was the one of Flo, looking through lowered lashes,
blushing faintly, her lips parted and wet looking.  He thought it was the
sexiest picture he'd ever seen in his life.

   Mirriam was next.  She'd pulled her hair into a thick braid, which
pulled at the skin of her face, making her cheekbones prominent.  She sat,
regally, in a maroon velvet dress that Bobby hadn't even known she owned.
The girls had worked on her makeup as a group, and had somehow come up with
eye shadow that went with the color of the dress perfectly, and a pale
lipstick that made her lips look larger and fuller than usual.

   Bobby realized he was fully erect, and turned around to adjust his penis
in his jeans.  Everyone, except Flo was looking at Mamma, and only she
noticed.  His eyes came up to see hers pinned on him.  All he could do was
smile and shrug his shoulders slightly.  Her face was unreadable.

   After Mirriam's photos were done, though, it was Flo who said: "What
about Bobby?"

   "We'll get to him later," said Christy, her voice businesslike.

   Then there were the group pictures.  Christy let them decide what groups
to form.  Bev and Linda wanted a portrait of them.  They had lived together
in the same room for as long as either of them could remember.  It was the
same with Suzie and the twins, who were in the same room.  The twins had
bunk beds, and Suzie had a twin bed.  Suzie had been given the option of
moving in with Flo, when Mary got married and left, but had turned it down,
much to Flo's delight.  It wasn't that she didn't love her little sister.
She just enjoyed the freedom of being able to be alone, once in a while.

   Christy sat Mirriam on the bench, and then surrounded her with her
daughters.  In one shot, they were arranged by age, from left to right.  In
another, they were all mixed up.  She took pictures with different
daughters sitting on either side of their mother, and of the girls all
crammed onto the bench, and kneeling beside it, with Mirriam standing
behind them.

   Finally she stopped.  "I guess that's all we can do until Mary gets
here," she said.  She started to turn, and then said "Wait!"

   Everybody froze.

   "I want to try something," she said.  "I want to put Bobby in some
pictures with you ...  just like he is."

   Everyone looked at Bobby, who was wearing a faded checkered shirt, and
jeans, with streaks of brown, dusty dirt on them.  His hair was askew, and
there were smudges of dirt on his cheek and forehead, where he had wiped
his brow with the back of his hand.

   There were murmurs of doubt, but they let Christy explore the idea she'd
had.

   First, again, were the twins.  Christy put Bobby on the bench, sitting
up ramrod straight, and looking serious.  She put the twins behind him,
with one of their hands on either shoulder, and told them to smile.

   "Wow," said Linda, from behind Christy.

   Christy turned around.

   "It just looks so ...  cool!" said Linda.  "I mean the contrast is just
amazing."

   "That's what I was going for," said Christy, smiling.  She turned around
and took the picture.  She took one with Matilda standing behind him, and
to one side, and Betty sitting primly on one of his knees, with her feet
between his legs, and then reversed them.  She tried one with both girls
sitting, one on either knee, but didn't like the composition.  She took
more, some with him smiling, with the girls in various positions.

   Going through that set of pictures had given all the others ideas about
what they wanted, and, by the time Mary came hurrying through the back door
of the house, Christy had gone through five rolls of film.

   Mary came to a skidding stop, when she saw her sisters, dressed as they
were.

   "Oh my GOSH!" she squealed.  "You guys are BEAUTIFUL!"

   She hadn't gotten quite as done up as the others, though she was wearing
the new dress that Fred had insisted she wear, and which had a special
built-in bra, because it dipped so low that it went below the bottom of her
breasts.  It exposed what she considered to be an enormous amount of her
upper body.  It had spaghetti straps, and the material was loosely pleated,
though her breasts flattened some of those pleats.  It was made of some
light fabric that would, if there was wind, flutter about her legs, which
were exposed above the knee.  She had worn thigh-high stockings with it,
because she thought her legs were too pale.  She was also wearing a garter
belt, another addition to her wardrobe that Fred was responsible for.  He
loved sexy panties, and, on special occasions, she met him wearing only
those panties, garter belt, and stockings, when he came home from work.

   "Look at that DRESS!" squealed Linda.  "Wow!  You look SEXY!"

   "Thank you," said Mary, blushing.  "I'm late because, when I looked in
the mirror, I almost couldn't go out in public in it.  I was afraid you
guys wouldn't like it."

   She was met with a babble of feminine voices, wanting to know where she
got it, and how much it cost, and did it come in smaller sizes.

   Christy shouted them all down.  "OK," she said.  "Let's get a couple of
shots with Bobby, like the others, and then he can go get cleaned up for
some more.  While he's doing that, I'll take Mary's shots.

   Mary acknowledged Christy, saying how nice it was to see her again, and
then let herself be pushed to the bench.  Christy went through the same
kind of arrangements, though she didn't have Mary sit on one of his knees,
saying she was too tall, though everybody there knew it was because she was
too old for that.  Bobby's favorite, as it would turn out, was the one
where he was standing behind her, his hands on her waist, his fingertips
almost on her belly.  They were both smiling in that one, and there wasn't
quite the difference in look, because she wasn't so heavily made up, and
his clothing was hidden from the camera, except for his shoulder.

   Very quickly, Christy remembered to re-take some of the shots of the
whole group with Bobby, and then sent him to get changed into nicer
clothes. He was surprised to see Flo moving to go with him.

   "I need to do your hair," she said.

   "I can do my own hair," he snorted.

   "Yes, and it will look like it always does," she said.  "Go on." She
pushed him.  "Go take a quick bath."

   While he was in the bathroom, Flo picked out clothes for him to wear. 
He owned a nice outfit or two, for wearing to weddings and funerals and
such, and she laid one out on the bed.

   He came in, naked, and toweling his head.  She stood, and handed him
items of clothing to put on, watching as he got dressed.

   "You look really good," he said.

   "I look really stupid," she retorted.

   "You're beautiful," he said.

   "You just want to get into my panties," she came back.

   "Especially when you look like that," he agreed.

   He knotted his tie, and she straightened it for him, and then sat him
down to work on his hair.  She took an inordinate amount of time, combing
it this way, and then that way, and flicking her fingertips at it, while he
stared at her cleavage.  She kept going until it was dry enough that it did
what she wanted, and didn't look wet, and then told him to stand up.

   Without a word, she stepped up, put her hands on his shoulders, and
kissed him.  It was a long, tender kiss, just like the ones she had been
getting every night, for the last week.  She and Linda had been going to
his room, with Bev, and watching.  Each of them kissed him, sometimes more
than once.  Feeling his lips on hers had become something that didn't
frighten her any more.  It still disturbed her, and made her have to
masturbate ...  but it didn't scare her, like it had.

   "I love you," he said.

   "I know," she said back.  "That's the problem." She wiped at his lips
with her thumb, where she had gotten lipstick on them.  "Let's go," she
said.  "Straighten your thing.  You'll scare the twins."

   He grinned at her, and adjusted the erection she knew she was
responsible for.

   While they had been gone, the women had worked on Mary, fluffing her
hair, and applying makeup.  Her lips looked delicious, and the mascara and
eyeliner made her eyes leap out.

   For whatever reason, Christy decided to do things backwards, and took
more pictures of Bobby with Mary first.  At one point, while she was
fiddling with the camera, and Bobby was standing behind her, he leaned his
lips toward her ear.

   "You're so beautiful it hurts," he said.  He pressed his erection into
her bottom.

   She turned her face, to look back at him, a look of adoration on it, and
Christy snapped the shot.  When they saw it later, he was looking adoringly
at her, and she was returning the look.  It always made him hard, when he
saw that picture in later years.

   He did the same thing with his mother, when he was standing behind her,
leaning forward to tell her how beautiful she was.  His hands were around
her, resting on her stomach, and her hands were on top of his.  She
squeezed, and pressed back into him slightly, but didn't turn, like Mary
had.  He had no idea he had just made her panties damp.

   Finally they were done.  Christy had taken ten rolls of film.

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

   It was the first week of October.  Jill molded her naked body against
him, and kissed his shoulder.

   "You have no idea how much this means to me," she said, her fingertips
tracing over his chest.

   "Have you told him yet?" he asked.

   "Roger?" she said.  "No.  I don't know if I even will."

   "I thought that was the idea," he said.

   "I know what I said, way back then," she said.  "You were right, though.
That's not a good reason to get pregnant."

   "So why did you?" he asked.

   "Because you didn't use anything to protect me when you made love to
me," she said, squeezing one of his nipples.

   "You could have used something," he said.

   "Why do men always think it's the woman's job?" she snorted, pinching
his nipple harder.  He jerked and brushed her hand away, covering his
injured nipple with his hand.

   "Besides," she said.  "I wanted to get pregnant for other reasons."

   "Really?" he asked.  "What reasons?"

   "Because I love you, and want your baby," she said.

   "But you don't want to get married?"

   "Nope." Her voice was matter-of-fact.

   "That seems so strange," he said.

   "Wait and see how strange it is when I want you to get me pregnant
again," she said.

   That got her another two orgasms, and another pussy full of hot spunk.

   When they again lay there, panting for breath, and she was again,
stroking his chest, she nipped his shoulder.

   "I should pay you for this," she said.  "That's how good you make me
feel."

   "I don't want your money," he said.  His hand came to stroke her belly.
"I want to be able to put a baby right here."

   "You did," she said, leaning up to kiss him on the corner of the mouth.
"And I've never been happier in my life."

   "I'm very glad you feel that way," he said.

   She giggled.  "It's kind of a relief when the woman you knocked up isn't
demanding to get married."

   "I could be very happy, married to you," he said.

   "That makes me feel even better," she said.  "But no ...  I'm not ready
for that again, yet.  We'll see if things change.  I might propose to you
later."

   "Don't wait too long," he said.  "There might be other women."

   "There are already other women," she said.  "All those women who think
so highly of you."

   "I didn't have sex with all of them," he said.

   "Well, the ones who didn't let you should have their heads examined,"
she sighed.

   "You want to go again, don't you?" He grinned.

   "Yes," she said.  "If you can get it up again within five minutes, I'll
give you my car."

   "What?" He laughed.

   "I don't use it," she said, reaching for his penis.  "It needs work, and
I can't afford to get it done.  What's the matter, stud?  Can't perform?"

   Fifteen minutes later she lay there, limp and satisfied.  Her pussy was
running over with thick spunk.  He leaned over to kiss her goodbye.

   "Wait," she groaned.

   With what looked like an effort, she rolled over and stood up.  She
padded, naked out of the room, and to the kitchen, while he followed her.
On the way she scooped up a drip of his semen from where it was running
down her leg, and licked her fingers clean.  She went to the calendar,
which was hanging on a nail, and took a set of keys off the nail.  She
opened his hand, and put them in it.

   "You don't have to do that," he said.

   "I don't need it, and you do," she said.  "You have something I need
too, and have been giving it to me very unselfishly.  Just promise me
you'll keep doing it."

   "I'd have kept doing it anyway," he said, leaning forward to kiss her.

   "Go on!" she said, pushing him.  "You're making me horny again, and I'm
sore from the beating you just gave me!"

   "I didn't make the five minute time limit," he said, grinning.

   "I hope it starts," she said, ignoring him.  "It might even make it to
your house, but I doubt it."

   Chapter Four

   Bobby parked his "new" car in front of the Nickerson house.  All it had
needed was new plugs and plug wires.  As far as he could tell, it was in
pretty decent shape, or would be with a little tender loving care.  He
planned on giving it back to Jill, after the TLC part was done.

   Christy was ready, wearing a halter top and short shorts that made his
groin ache.  She had a knapsack over her shoulder, and a walking stick in
one hand.  She didn't have her customary smile on her face, though, and
looked distracted.

   "We can't leave your car here," she said.  "You can drive us to a place
I know of, and we can hike from there.  I have a couple of ideas for
pictures."

   "Thanks for taking the portraits," he said.

   She flashed him a weak smile.  "It was fun."

   She pushed him toward the car.

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

   Bobby didn't own a knapsack.  Instead, he had taken a gunny sack, and
tied a strip of cloth, torn from some old drapes, around the neck of it, so
he could sling it over his shoulder.

   They walked steadily, with very little talk, for an hour, and Bobby
found out that there were trails in the area he didn't know about.  She
seemed to have a destination in mind, but he didn't care.  He could feel
the strain in his legs, from striding in longer steps than he was used to.
Even though she was shorter than he was, her gait was quick.  He watched
her buttocks move up and down in the tight shorts, and the muscles in her
legs flex.  It was as much fun watching her, as it was looking around at
the nature they were walking through.

   The area they were in was part of an old farm, which Bobby knew had
belonged to a family that no longer lived in the area.  They had sold the
farm four or five years ago, and moved to the city.  The tillable land was
being worked by someone, but it had a creek running through a strip of
broken, rocky ground that still had trees on it.  It hadn't been cleared,
because the ground that was under it wasn't suitable for farming.  There
had been enough rain recently that the creek was flowing, and they
paralleled it on what looked like a game trail of some kind.  Bobby
realized this was prime deer habitat, especially since it was in the middle
of a group of farms that prevented easy access.  There were no roads
leading into it.

   She stopped to rest, and take a drink of water, sitting on a rock.

   "Richard called me," she said.

   "That's nice," he said.  "I bet he doesn't get the chance to do that
very often."

   "It's the first time he's ever done it," she said.  "He said his
commanding officer approved it."

   "I'm glad you got to talk to him."

   "I'm not," she said.  Her face was serious.  "He's staying there for
another tour, when this one is over."

   "I'm sorry," said Bobby.  He felt helpless.

   "He's coming home in four months," she said.  "He gets to stay for a
month, and then he's going back."

   "Isn't that good?" asked Bobby, carefully.

   "If he was coming home to stay, that would be good," she said darkly. 
"I'm going to have to live with my parents for another sixteen months!"

   "Oh," he said.

   "He says he can make rank faster if he stays there," she said.  "He's
talking about staying in the Army for twenty years."

   "I'm sorry," said Bobby again.

   "He didn't even ask me if it was OK," she said.  Bobby saw a tear roll
down her cheek.

   "Why don't you get a job, and rent someplace for yourself, until he gets
back?" It was the only thing Bobby could think of to give her some hope.

   "I might just do that!" she said, wiping her face.  She stood up,
obviously ready to go now.

   They walked for another hour, going half the distance they'd already
traveled, because the ground was so rough, and they had to climb over
rocks. Twice Bobby boosted her up, putting his hands flat on her butt.  She
thanked him, but there was no flirting.

   She took a sudden turn, onto a trail that Bobby probably wouldn't have
noticed, bending low to go under low hanging branches.  Bobby couldn't
watch her round bottom, because he had to duck even lower.  They came,
suddenly, out from between two red cedars, into the overgrown yard of an
old house.

   It was a two story house, built at least seventy years ago.  On first
glance, it looked like there wasn't a speck of paint left on the clapboards
that covered the exterior walls, but as they got closer, Bobby could see
the remnants of white paint, adhering here and there.  Most of the windows
were flat, glaring panes, covered in years of dirt that made them almost
impossible to see through.  Two windows, one upstairs and another
downstairs, were missing.  Even the struts between where there had been
smaller panes were missing.  Pale ragged cloth moved, in the desultory
breeze that was blowing, coming out of the gaping holes, and then drifting
back in.

   An old rope hung straight from an oak tree, with the tire lying under it
that had once been tied to it.  There were a few small outbuildings still
standing, but the barn, once large, for its time, had collapsed in on
itself over the years.  Bobby could see that much of the roofing had blown
off of the house, and rafters showed through.  He knew that the upstairs
portion of the place would be a wreck.

   "I found this one day," she said.  "It always makes me sad to see it."

   "It is sad," Bobby agreed.

   "They left all kinds of stuff behind," she said, perking up.  "There's
some neat stuff in there.  Come on ...  I'll show you."

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

   The former occupants of the house had, indeed, left all sorts of
belongings behind.  The cupboards in the kitchen were full of old dishes,
and the drawers were full of the kinds of implements that had been popular
in about 1940.  A pantry, off the kitchen, still held jars, bottles and a
few rusty cans, with no labels on them.  Linens had been left too, but mice
had long ago chewed them up for nests.

   The rooms were mostly empty, though some pieces of furniture were still
where they'd been.  There was a huge old dry sink against one wall, and a
wardrobe looking thing, covered in tin, with holes pierced in it to make
designs.  The only thing in it was a stack of ten or fifteen rusty pie
pans. The parlor still had a rug nailed to the floor, but it was so faded
and rotten that the pattern couldn't be discerned.  That room turned out to
have one of the windows with no glass in it.  It looked out towards what,
at one time, had been the front of the property.  As Bobby stood, looking
out, he could see the ruts that had been a driveway.  They cut off abruptly
when they hit a field of stubble.  The road into the place had been plowed
over.  That, he thought, was why he hadn't known this place existed.  There
was no longer any way to get to it, other than the way they had come, or
driving over a wheat field.

   "Stay right there," Christy commanded, taking her camera out of her
knapsack.  "You're backlit by the window.  It's a good shot." She had him
put one hand up on the side of the window, and look out, while she chose
the angle she wanted to shoot from.  She took the picture, and then moved.

   "Back up a little," she said.

   He did, and she nodded.  "I can see your features now." Again, she had
him stare out the window and, through the viewfinder, with the limp, torn
curtains hanging there, he looked young, in the midst of ruin.

   "Take off your shirt," she said.

   "What?"

   "Take off your shirt," she repeated.

   He did, and she stood, looking at his naked chest, for the first time.

   "Look at all that muscle," she sighed.  She pulled the camera up and
looked through it.  "Tense up," she ordered him.

   "This is silly," he said, grinning.  She snapped a shot of his grinning
face.

   "No it's not," she said.  "The window is all straight lines.  The
curtains are softer lines, and you're all curves and bumps."

   He tightened his chest muscles, feeling silly.  She told him to turn
just his head, and look out the window.  She took a picture, made an
adjustment of some kind to the camera, and took another one.

   "Beautiful," she said, admiring his chest.

   "You take off YOUR shirt," he said, grinning.

   "I'm not wearing a shirt," she said, firmly.

   "Well, whatever you're wearing, you should have to take it off too," he
said.  "This isn't fair at all."

   "Dream on, buster," she said, smiling at him.  "Now, bend over and lean
out the window, with your elbows on the sill."

   He did, and she walked around him, taking pictures.  She told him to
stay there, and went outside, to take more, of his upper torso, leaning out
the window.

   She came back in and looked around for more shots.

   "You're really good with that thing," he said.  "And I really mean it
when I say thank you for taking the pictures of my sisters."

   "That really WAS fun," she said.  "Your sisters are gorgeous."

   "I know," he said.  "It's hard on a brother, when his sisters are that
good looking."

   "Awwww, poor baby," she cooed.  "Does Bobby have a stiffy?"

   "Yes," he said dryly.  "But not because of them.  Bobby has a stiffy
because of that outfit."

   "This old thing?" she said, surveying her body.  The halter top didn't
bulge much.

   "I notice you didn't paint in it," he said.

   She dimpled at him, and then went back to looking for another shot.  She
looked at the dry sink.  Telling him to stand there, she went and got
various old dishes and jars, and arranged them on the sink.  The whole
thing gave the impression of faded age.

   She posed him there, but wasn't satisfied.  She told him to put his
shirt back on, but shook her head and told him to remove it again.  He
grinned at her the whole time.

   "Take your pants off too," she said.

   "I thought I was the one trying to get you naked," he said.

   "I know what I'm doing, here," she said, ignoring his banter.

   He stared at her for a few seconds, and his hands went to his belt.

   Christy was in the grip of something she hadn't felt in a long time. 
She was seeing pictures in her mind again, and it felt good.  Her creative
juices were going, and she knew what look she was going for with this.  She
just hadn't seen it yet.  Her mind was more on the composition of the shot,
than on what she had just told him to do.  When she saw him standing in
just his underwear, though, she had a little reality break.  She lowered
the camera and stared at him.

   His chest and arms weren't the only muscled part of him.  His thighs
were cords of muscle, clearly defined.  If she'd known the names of them,
she could easily have pointed and said those names.

   There also appeared to be an impressive muscle inside his jockey shorts.

   She lifted the camera, and looked through it.  The shot was perfect. 
The faded, dusty furniture, with the antique items on it, were the perfect
antithesis of his youthful rounded form.  It looked perfect ...  except for
the shorts.

   "The shorts have to come off too," she said, still looking through the
lens.

   "I know you like to flirt," he said.  "But this is ridiculous."

   "Just take them off!" she said, a little too loudly.

   Through the lens, she saw him bend over, and saw the white slide down to
his ankles.  She saw him step out of them, and toss them on top of his
other clothing.  She saw him stand up.  Everything through the lens looked
small ...  far away, but it looked right, to her creative mind.

   "Drape one hand on the edge of the sink," she said.  He did, and she had
him move his feet, and then bend forward just a hair.  She looked over the
top of the camera, not really seeing any detail, just imagining the shot.
He looked tense.

   "Relax," she said.  "You're all stiff."

   "Not yet, but I will be soon," he said softly.

   She didn't so much ignore him, as she was busy thinking about other
things.  The light meter said she had enough light for the f-stop she was
using, but she wanted a tighter aperture, so the depth of field would be
longer.  She'd have to use a slower shutter speed.

   "Can you stand really still for half a second?" she asked, still looking
through the lens.

   "I think so," he said calmly.

   She took the camera down, and looked at it, while she made the
adjustments, and brought it back up.  She told him to freeze, and took the
picture.  Then she brought the camera down, and actually looked at him.

   He relaxed, moving a little bit, but now it was Christy who froze.

   He took her breath away.  He was just beautiful.  His penis was hanging
...  lying on top of balls that looked swollen and full.  She felt her
nipples crinkle in the halter top, and her stomach did flip-flops.  She
stared at him so long that he spoke.

   "What now?" he asked.

   "What now?" her mind reverberated.  What was now was for her to touch
him.  Her fingers almost itched at the thought of exploring that gorgeous,
muscled body.

   "Christy?" he probed verbally.

   "I ...  um ...  uh ..." she stuttered.  "That was ...  perfect."

   "So I should get dressed again?"

   "NO!" she yelped.  "There are others ...  lots of others."

   "You planned all this?" he asked.

   "Not exactly," she gasped.  "But this is perfect.  You have no idea."

   She forced her mind to think about pictures, and pictures of this
overwhelming male body leapt into her mind.

   She had him go back to the window, and go through the same poses as
before.  She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry, as she looked
over the camera at his raw male appeal.

   She took him all over the house, and then outside the house, taking
picture after picture of his naked form, holding tools, leaning against a
tree, bent over, as if he was picking something up, and various other
poses. Throughout it all, she felt more and more passion building in her,
as he let her manipulate him.

   Back inside the kitchen, she posed him in the pantry door, one hand up,
above his head on the jamb, leaning negligently, his thick penis hanging
between slightly spread legs.  He was the epitome of maleness, and she was
wet between her thighs.

   "I still don't think it's fair that I'm the only one running around here
naked," he said.

   "I can't get naked with you," she moaned.

   "Why not?" he asked, grinning.

   "Because something will happen!" she groaned.

   "I'd like to have some pictures of you too," he said.  "Can you teach me
how to work the camera?"

   "OK," she blurted, anxious for any task to take her mind off of his
naked form.  "Get dressed and I'll teach you."

   "I've kind of gotten used to being naked, now," he teased.

   She was so flustered that she just showed him what to do, setting the
camera for the light that was there, in the kitchen.  He had her lean
against the counter.  She felt silly, with him there, naked, and herself as
the focal point of a photograph.

   "Now it's you who needs to relax," he said.

   She realized she was, in fact, tense.  She rolled her shoulders, and
tried to relax.  She heard the shutter click.

   He didn't have much imagination.  He just posed her in some of the same
places that she had posed him ...  in the window ...  and by the dry sink.

   "I see what you mean," he said, as she stood by the dry sink.

   "What?" she said.

   "The clothes really ruin the effect."

   "You're trying to get me naked again," she moaned.

   "Yes, Ma'am, I am," he said.  "I've seen you that way already, you
know."

   She remembered.

   She felt suddenly hot ...  sweltering, in fact.  She looked at him,
standing there looking gorgeous, and felt her pussy spasm.

   Very slowly, as if in a dream, her fingers came to the knot of her
halter top, and undid it.  She shrugged out of it, not looking at him.  It
dropped from numb fingers.

   "That's better," he said softly.  "Much better."

   She heard the shutter click.  It sounded loud in the stillness of the
room.

   "Now look up at me," he said.

   She raised her eyes, to see a naked man, with her camera against his
face, and it suddenly seemed funny, instead of awkward.  She smiled, and
the shutter clicked again.

   "It's almost perfect," he said.  "Now the shorts.  They have to go."

   "You're right," she said, in control of her voice again.  "This is way
beyond flirting."

   "I'm just taking pictures here," he said.  "Pay no attention to me."

   Taking a breath, she fumbled with the catch of her shorts, and undid it.
She knew he'd make her take her panties off anyway, and pushed them down at
the same time.  She stepped out of them, and kicked them to the side, where
her halter top lay.  She felt odd, in the sense that she felt more
confident now, totally naked, than she had when all he was going to see
were her breasts.

   She stood up, pushing her chest out, instinctively, to compensate for
how small she felt they were.

   "Wow!" he said softly, staring at her.  She felt a rush of joy at his
approval, and it was that that made her blush, rather than embarrassment.
"You are so right," he breathed.  "Up against all that old stuff, you look
fabulous."

   He took more pictures, and she didn't even think about changing the
camera settings.  She was able to stare at him, while he was doing this. 
She watched, fascinated, as his penis lengthened, and grew thicker, coming
up off his balls a little, at first, and then maturing to a full-blown
erection, as he had her move, and took more pictures.  In her mind, she
couldn't help but compare him to Richard.  She had, on more than one
occasion, smiled to herself as she thought of him as "Dick", when she'd
seen the thing that bore his nickname.  Her husband had no foreskin.  She
knew about the concept of foreskins, but had never seen a penis other than
Richard's, which hadn't, so far, looked anything like this one, either soft
OR hard.  Soft, Richard's penis hugged his body, like it was trying to be
sucked up inside him.  Hard, it stood out, and she had been impressed with
it ...  until she saw Bobby's get hard.

   It wasn't that it was so much bigger, in one sense.  It was a little
longer, and it looked thicker, but that wasn't what struck her about it. 
What struck her about it was that, against Bobby, Richard just looked like
a boy, while Bobby looked all man.

   She saw him drop the camera, and step toward her.  The closer he came,
the deeper she inhaled, until he was standing a foot from her, and was
holding the camera out.  She had to breathe out, and it escaped from her
lungs in a slow exhale.  Her hands wouldn't move, though, to take the
camera.  She looked down, meaning to see why her hands wouldn't work, and
saw the penis that was only six inches from her body.

   Up close, it looked so male ...  so utilitarian ...  so useful, somehow,
that she felt her knees weaken too.

   "Ohhhhh," she moaned, as she sank down two inches.

   He put the camera on the dry sink, and his hands came to grip her under
her arms.

   "Are you OK?" he asked.

   "Noooo," she moaned.

   She noticed the pressure of his thumbs, on the flesh between her
shoulders and breasts.

   "I don't feel so good," she whispered, still staring at his penis.

   "Do you want me to kiss you, and make you better?" he teased.

   He WAS teasing.  She could hear it in his voice.  He wasn't trying to do
anything to her.  He wanted her ...  that was as plain as the evidence of
that want ...  the evidence she was still staring at, as it bobbed, now
only an inch from her belly button, as he helped her failing knees hold her
up.  He didn't actually intend to kiss her.

   But, deep in her belly, she knew that if he did, it WOULD make her feel
better.

   She tore her gaze from his phallus, and looked up.  She had no way of
knowing that her raw desire was painted on her face like a neon sign, and
that Bobby saw that instantly.

   Pulling her up as if she weighed a pound, he brought her lips to his.

   If she expected this kiss to be soft and gentle, like the last one he
had given her, she was sadly ...  or perhaps not so sadly ...  mistaken.

   The passion she had felt in his earlier, tender kiss was transmitted to
her lips this time by lips that were demanding and strong ...  lips that
felt hungry in a way that made something in her quail, like a rabbit must
quail, as it feels the first touch of the wolf's teeth.  In the core of her
mind, she knew this would not end with a kiss.

   Her frustration, loneliness, and raw sexual need all burst from within
her, channeled through her own lips, to signal to him what she wanted.  Her
tongue pushed, and was accepted, as he sucked it.  She felt her body rise
more, and felt the edge of the dry sink cut into her tender buttocks as he
perched her, precariously there.  She wanted to wiggle back, to be more
comfortable, but his hands slid down her sides, to her hips, and held her
there.

   He pulled back, and the helpless rabbit saw the wolf's eyes then.  His
eyes slid downward, and she thought, for a second or two, that he was just
going to look at her breasts.  Her eyes followed his, and she felt his hand
move from her left hip.  Wide rabbit eyes watched as that hand went to the
stiff thing she had been staring at so avidly, only half a minute before,
and gripped it ...  steering it ...  below the dark patch of her pubic
hair, where she couldn't see.

   She felt it though, as that blunt head pressed between soaking, slick
labia.  Then his hand went back to her hip, and she felt the strength of
him in those hands, gripping.  She looked back up, barely in time to see
his lips coming towards hers again and, as those lips touched, his hands
pulled her forward, off the dry sink.

   It was good she was soaking wet.  His hands had her, but they were still
pulling forward, as her body weight slammed her down, and she was impaled.

   "AHHHHHHH," she groaned, into his mouth, her own now wide open.  His
tongue licked into her open mouth, and his hands slid to cup her buttocks.

   Her arms went around his neck in pure defense, as she hung there, his
prick in her pussy the only thing, other than his hands, and her weak arms,
holding her up off the floor.  Her legs stretched, also by instinct, trying
to touch the floor, but her toes swung to the sides of his ankles, hitting
only air.

   He walked with her, and her clit began screaming that it was being
crushed, as his movement bounced her slightly.  She felt dusty wallpaper
impact her back, and his upper body pressed her against it, flattening her
small breasts.

   Then he stood and, using his hands, started bouncing her.  The wall
stabilized her, and her arms were not needed.

   Her first orgasm slammed into her within fifteen seconds of being
bounced on his prick.  Her startled "waaaaaaaaaah" sounded part whine, and
part cry of distress.  He kissed her again, pressing her head against the
wall behind her, and another orgasm announced its arrival.  She gasped for
breath, when his lips left hers, panting like she was running for her life.
Her mind wouldn't work, and she couldn't say the things that were drifting
through it.  She heard the sounds her throat was making, but they didn't
mean anything ...  not in any known language.  Another orgasm wracked her
body, and still he didn't stop.  Her mind flared in mild panic as some part
of it told her he was going to kill her by giving her too many orgasms in a
row.  She had never had more than one at a time in her whole life, and now,
it was like the sky was raining them down.

   Her ears heard his voice, as it went "UHHHHHH!", and she felt her back
sliding down the wall.  Her stretched toes found purchase on the floor, and
she realized his knees had bent.  As her toes scrabbled instinctively to
grip the floor, he stood back up, and heat exploded in her belly.  She had
never felt anything like this either.  It was as if he was shooting liquid
streams of fire into her, over and over again, as, once more, she was
bounced on the wonderful strong thing that was going go fuck her to death.

   He froze, leaning hard against her, and his hands slowly let her down.
He was still in her, and his knees bent, until her feet were flat on the
dusty floor.  His forehead was on her shoulder, and she stood, feet spread
wide, knees locked, leaning against the wall, as he dipped further, and
pulled his half hard penis from her sheath.  She looked down in amazement.
She could see her pussy lips now, with her hips arched forward.  They were
red and looked like they should hurt, though all she felt right now were
the soothing effects of being supremely satisfied, sexually, and the vast
relief that she wasn't going to be fucked to death after all.

   Then the semen bubbled out of her gaping lips, and made long strings of
white that tried to reach the floor, but inevitably broke, and fell. 
Between her panting gasps, which were interrupted every once in a while by
her lungs holding air in, trying to use the oxygen in it before she exhaled
again, she actually heard the wet splats of his seed, dripping out of her,
and hitting the floor.

   His head came up off her shoulder, and his hands went to the wall, above
her own, as he pushed back, leaving her standing there, leaning against the
wall.  He leaned forward again to kiss the corner of her mouth, and slid
his lips over, fully on top of hers.  These ...  these were those ultra
soft, ultra passionate, ultra sexual little kisses that said "Thank you" in
ways that no words could ever begin to communicate.  In that instant, as
she kissed him back, half of her felt like she'd been mauled by a bear, and
the other half told her she had done something for that bear that he would
forever be grateful for.

   It was the best sex she'd ever had, bar none, and she knew, in that
instant that she could not go on living without more of it.

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

   There were no words between them.  Not immediately.  Their bodies had
talked to one another.  He took her hand, and she walked, naked beside him,
to the front porch, where the breeze cooled their sweaty skin.  Along the
way he scooped up her knapsack from the kitchen counter.  They sat on the
steps of the porch, sharing from her water bottle, each thinking their own
thoughts, as they looked out at the death that the field of stubble
represented.  Both of them felt very much alive, at that moment.

   He stood up, but put a hand on her shoulder, to tell her to stay there,
and went back into the house.  He brought out his burlap bag, and her
camera.  He opened the bag first, and brought out cookies his mother had
made.  While she munched one, he stepped away from the porch, to take a
picture of her sitting there, naked.

   She felt something inside her that was foreign, but that felt like it
was part of her now ...  something a little wanton ...  a little slutty. 
While he focused the camera, she let her knees swing apart, so that her
pussy would show.  Her smile had elements of something feral in it, as she
clenched her kegel muscles, sensing when he was going to let the shutter
loose.

   That picture, would later fire Bobby up, time and again ...  the picture
of her sitting there on an old porch with that dead old house in the
background, that sexual smile on her face, her legs spread, with a cookie
in her hand, and his very live sperm dripping out of her pussy.

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

   He came back to sit with her.  They still hadn't said a word.  She fed
him a cookie, and his eyes raked over her.  She made him lie back, on the
porch, and examined his penis.  It was still slick with their juices, but
she didn't mind.  The thought of sucking it was foreign to her mind, and
didn't enter into her thoughts at all, but she stared at it, and moved it,
and played with it.  He pulled her up to his head for more kisses, and the
wood of the porch scraped her hip.  He was much softer, so she crawled up
on him and they kissed each other for fifteen minutes.

   She felt his renewed arousal just as he pushed her off of him and stood
up.  He was standing out again, as hard as before.

   "Again?" she asked, her voice seeming to shatter the stillness around
them.

   "Again," he said.

   He looked around, but there was no place to comfortably lie down.  He
pulled her back into the house, and saw the gaping window they had taken
pictures in.  He positioned her in it, re-creating one of the pictures he
had taken, of her, leaning out the window naked, looking into the distance.
Then he approached her from behind, bent his knees, and slid into her
again.

   This wasn't a raw fuck.  This was lovemaking, in the deepest sense of
the word.  He stroked her insides with his prick, as she jutted her
backside at him, and stroked her on the outside, with his hands, moving
over her back, and hips, and sides, and then moving to pay attention to her
breasts and nipples, as her mounting moans filled the air.

   Finally, he dipped his hand to find her clit, and gently rubbed it until
she cried out.  It had been as different for her as night and day.  She
felt like she was floating in a warm cloud, and that the cloud was touching
her everywhere.  When the orgasm came, she felt it coming from far away,
and welcomed it, anticipating it, and almost crying with happiness as it
flowed through her.  She felt his thrusts get more insistent, and knew
she'd feel that ball of fire jetting into her again.  She welcomed that
too. As her orgasm faded into pleasurable tingles, she looked back over her
shoulder, watching as his face went tight, and his stomach muscles bunched.
He pushed his hips forward, and she pushed back with all her strength, as
the jets of fire zipped into her in multiple bolts of ecstasy.

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

   The culmination of that outing, which involved two rest stops on the way
back to the car, both of which resulted in their clothing being used as a
bed for him to lie on, while she rode herself to another orgasm, and
accepted his seed into her womb, resulted in some changes in Christy.

   The ride back to town was silent, but it wasn't an uncomfortable
silence, nor was it wasted.  By the time they got back, Bobby's suggestion
that she find a job, and get her own place, had gelled into a plan of
action.  She had her wits about her enough to remember that her parents
might be home, by now, and had him drop her off a full mile from town, so
that she could work up a sweat by the time she walked in the door.  As she
leaned over to kiss him goodbye, which felt completely natural and normal
to her, she spoke.

   "You know any place I could maybe get a job?"

   "That's not one of my specialties," he said.  "I know a woman.  Her name
is Jill.  She's a waitress at the diner.  She said something about Sal
needing another waitress.  I mean I know it's not glamorous, but it might
be an option."

   Chapter Five

   Two days after the photo session, Prudence went into labor.  Constance
called Bobby, in a panic.

   "Drive her to the hospital," said Bobby.

   "I can't drive!  I'm freaking out!" shrieked Constance.

   "Constance!" he yelled, into the phone.  "She needs you right now. 
She's always been there for you.  Now it's your turn to be there for her.
Come on, baby ...  it's easy.  Just put her in the car, and drive to the
hospital.  They'll take it from there."

   "OK, OK," moaned Constance.

   "Stay there with her," said Bobby.  "Mamma wants to be there to help
her. I'll get Mamma and meet you there, OK?"

   "OK, OK!" said Constance, sounding a little stronger.  "You'll be there,
right?"

   "I'll be right there with you," he said.

   "OK, OK!" She slammed down the phone.

   Mirriam was taking a nap.  She'd worked that morning at the mill.  He
went in and kissed her awake, taking the opportunity to cop a quick feel of
her breast.

   "What are you doing?" she asked, sleepily, as her eyes opened.  "Stop
that!" She brushed is hand away.

   "Prudence is in labor," he said softly.

   "WHAT!" She shot up as if there were springs in her back.  "WHY DIDN'T
YOU TELL ME?!"

   "I just did," he said, grinning.

   She was ready within minutes.  She dressed comfortably, because she was
going in the labor and delivery room with her friend, and might have to
stay all night.  It would all depend on how the labor went.

   When Bobby got to the hospital, he saw Prudence's car in the parking
lot. They couldn't find Constance in the emergency room, and went on up to
the floor where labor and delivery were.  Constance was there, pacing. 
When she saw them she threw herself in Bobby's arms and gripped him
tightly. Mirriam took the time to raise one eyebrow at Bobby, who grinned
back, and went to tell the nurse who she was, and be taken to Prudence.

   Constance was frantic, and remained that way until Bobby forcefully took
her head between his hands and put a lip lock on her.  She stiffened, then
moaned, and then wilted.  He caught her and sat her in a chair in the
waiting room.

   "Why'd you do that?" she said, her eyes still not focused.

   "You were a little crazy," he said.  "I had to get your attention."

   "You did that," she said, her voice dreamy.

   "Now that you're calm ...  did you bring your mother's suitcase?"

   "Suitcase?" Constance's eyes cleared and she gasped.  "I FORGOT!"

   "Then let's go get it," he said, grinning.  "We probably have plenty of
time."

   Constance had been on an emotional high already.  Bobby's kiss had
calmed her panic, but had only ratcheted up her emotional state.

   They took the truck, and Constance scooted over next to Bobby and
clutched his arm.

   "What are you doing?" he asked.

   "I don't know," she sighed.  "I'm just so nervous."

   "This happens all the time," he said.  "She'll be fine."

   "Easy for YOU to say," she said.  "All you did was get her pregnant ...
you don't have to have the baby!  She sounded like it hurt so bad."

   Bobby drove silently for a minute.  "She told you, huh?"

   "That you're the Daddy?  Yes." She didn't pull away.  "Besides, we saw
you doing it, remember?"

   "You never said anything about it," he said.

   "What was there to say?" she asked.

   They arrived at the house and Constance jumped out.  She ran to the
house and returned almost immediately with the suitcase.  She put it in the
bed and got back in.

   Again, she scooted over and took his arm.

   "Are you ever going to kiss me again like that?" she asked.

   "Do you want me to?"

   "Maybe," she said.

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

   Doctor Michael Foster extracted his fingers from the vagina of Prudence
Harris, and announced that effacement of the cervix had reached the point
where it was necessary to move to the delivery room.  The mother was doing
all right, now that her friend was here with her.

   Thirty minutes later, Doctor Foster cupped his hands and squatted, like
a catcher, to receive the baby that fairly burst out of her distorted
vaginal opening.

   Prudence gave a sigh of relief as her latest push produced the desired
result.  She lifted her head weakly, trying to see.

   "A boy!" announced Doctor Foster.  "Quite handsome too.  I'd say he's at
least six and a half, maybe seven pounds." He handed the baby to a nurse,
who wrapped it in a towel and took it to do all the things that they do to
newborn babies.

   Prudence stared at her abdomen, which wasn't so full or strained as it
had been, but still seemed too large.

   "What's going on?" she panted.

   "It's time to push the second one out," said the doctor.  "Just like you
did before, Prudence.  Give me a nice, big push when you feel the next
contraction."

   "Second one?" Prudence sounded lost.

   "Twins!" gasped Mirriam.  She leaned over to kiss Prudence on her sweaty
forehead, and then wiped it with a towel.

   "I suspected as much," said Doctor Foster.  "But I wasn't sure, and
didn't want to give you false hope."

   "Twins?" Prudence moaned.  Her face twisted, as her abdomen rippled with
a contraction.

   "Big breath!" said the doctor.  "Now ...  puuuuuuuuuuuuuush!"

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

   Bobby had finally fallen asleep, after hours of sitting and waiting.  He
would have gotten up and walked around, but Constance fell asleep on him.
She had turned to face him, and used his lap as her pillow, while she
stretched her legs our on the couch they were sitting on.  It had been a
problem, for a while, because as she rubbed her cheek on the front of his
pants, to get comfortable, it had gotten lumpy.  She'd pretended not to
notice, and was so tired she just closed her eyes and fell asleep.

   There were girls draped across each other on every other piece of
furniture in the room.  Bobby had called home, to tell whoever answered
where their mother was.  It had been Bev who answered.  Once she knew her
best friend was at the hospital, her enthusiasm for being there had been
communicable, and they all came, in Bobby's new car.

   Bobby was shaken awake by his mother, who was smiling tiredly.

   "You can see them now," she said.

   What she meant was that Bobby could see the twins, in their hospital
bassinets.  What Bobby thought she meant was that he could see Prudence and
their baby.

   He woke Constance, who rubbed her cheek in his lap again, as she woke
up, making Mirriam's eyebrows rise.  She had once asked Bobby if he was
sleeping with this girl, and had believed him when he had answered in the
negative.  Constance seemed awfully at home with his manhood, though, as
her hand came up, inserted itself between cheek and said manhood, and lay
her head back down on her cheek.  It only took a second for Mirriam so see,
though, that the girl wasn't actually trying to feel Bobby's penis.  She
was just trying to go back to sleep, and her hand simply covered an
uncomfortable lump.

   Mirriam was trying to be quiet.  She had made that decision as soon as
she entered the waiting room and saw here whole family there.  It was three
in the morning, and the last thing that was needed was a group of eight
excited teenagers all making noise as they got excited.  It was for that
reason that she pressed her fingers to Constance's lips, when she shook the
girl.

   Now Constance's eyes popped open, and blinked.

   "Shhhhh," said Mirriam, putting one finger to her own lips.  "Come with
me."

   Constance woke more, realized the import of Mirriam being there, and
bounded up off of Bobby, who rose more slowly, stretching.

   "Is it a girl!?" asked Constance, excitedly.

   "Shhhhh!" hissed Mirriam again.

   "Is it?" whispered Constance.

   Mirriam smiled and nodded, and then pushed a dancing Constance out of
the door, before she started making noise again.

   She didn't take them to see Prudence, though.  Instead she took them to
the nursery, which had the lights on day and night.  There were three
bassinets lined up, facing the windows.  One was had a name on it, but was
empty at the moment.  The other two had name cards that said: "Katherine
Harris" and "Kyle Harris".  Mirriam stood back and waited for the young
ones to figure it out.

   Constance zeroed in on Katherine, who happened to be the first one she
saw.  She then ignored the other one.

   "That's my baby sister?" she crooned, already obviously in love with the
baby.  "She's so tiny!"

   Bobby had seen both names.  He turned and looked at his mother, who was
grinning from ear to ear.  She nodded.

   "She's a baby," he said, turning back to put a hand on Constance's
shoulder.  The girl immediately tucked her shoulder into his armpit, and
put an arm around his waist.

   "She's gorgeous," sighed Constance.  "Her name is Katherine," she said,
as if nobody else could read.

   "Your little brother isn't bad either," said Bobby, conversationally.

   "What?"

   "Kyle ...  over there," said Bobby, pointing with a finger of the hand
draped over her shoulder.

   "What?" The girl's head swiveled.

   "WHAT! ...  OH MY GOSH! ...  OH MY GOSH!  BOBBY THERE ARE TWO OF THEM!"

   "Your mother had twins," said Mirriam, grinning.

   Then Constance danced again, babbling.  She hugged Mirriam, and then
hugged Bobby, and then looked at the babies and then did it all over again.

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

   "Wake up!" whispered Constance, as she shook Bev awake.  That
necessitated waking up Linda too, because they had fallen asleep leaning
against each other.  "Ask me if I got a sister!"

   "Huh?" asked Bev, sleepily.  "What time is it?"

   "Ask me if I got a sister, Bev!" hissed Constance.

   Bev's eyes opened wide, and she was suddenly awake.  "A sister!?  Oh
Connie, I'm so happy for you!" She jumped up, and Linda flopped down,
suddenly without support.  She pushed herself back up, rubbing her eyes.

   "ASK ME!" said Constance, insistent and grinning.

   Bev rolled her eyes.  "Connie, did you get a sister?"

   "Yes, I did," said Constance, folding her arms across her chest.  "Now,
ask me if I got a brother."

   "Of course you didn't get a brother!" said Bev, looking confused.  "You
just said you got ..."

   "ASK ME!" insisted Constance again.

   "OK ...  did you get a brother?"

   "Yes, I did!" squealed Constance, and she started dancing with Bev, who
caught on and squealed with her.

   Two nurses came to frown and tell them all to quiet down.  Eventually
Bobby herded them all out into the parking lot and told them to go home. 
They wouldn't do it, until he put them in his car himself, stuffing three
in the front, and four in the back.  Then Constance complained that she
wanted to go too, so he told her to get in the truck and followed the girls
home.  His mother was staying the night with Prudence, and the nurse had
told him that, as a friend of the family, he couldn't see Prudence until
around ten in the morning.  Constance babbled almost half of the way home,
sitting by the open window, and then, suddenly scooted over to hug Bobby's
arm again, pressing her breast into it and laying her head on his shoulder.

   "You gave me a sister AND a brother," she sighed.

   "You're welcome," he said, smiling.

   "I was really mad at you ...  at first," she said.  "I thought it was
gross that a boy would do that with my mother."

   "I'm sorry," he said.  "I think your mother is a beautiful woman."

   "I know, now," she said.  "I get it, now.  I'm not mad any more.  I
understand that Mamma loves you, now.  I love you too."

   "Thank you," he said.

   "You can kiss me any time you want to," she said, looking up at him.

   "That's how things started with your mother," said Bobby, smiling.  "Are
you ready to have twins?"

   She slapped his arm.  "Of course not!"

   "Well, then, we'll keep the kissing down to when I need to get your
attention."

   "OK," she sighed, and lay her head back down.

   She was asleep again by the time they got there.  It turned out half of
the rest of the girls were too.  Bobby made several trips to the cars, to
carry limp girls to their bedrooms, and lay them on the beds.  He was lucky
that Matilda, who slept in the upper bunk in her room, was one of the ones
who was awake.  Bev wanted Constance to be put in Mary's old bed, and then
asked Flo if she could switch beds, just this one night.  Linda, in the
other bed in her room, was one of the ones Bobby had to carry in.

   "OK," Said Flo, as if she didn't care.

   "Thanks, sis!" said Bev, hugging her older sister.  She started taking
off her clothes, and closed the door.

   Only Bobby and Flo were still up, now, and they walked down the hallway,
towards Bev's room.

   "Can I sleep in your room?" asked Flo, suddenly.

   "Why?" asked Bobby.

   "I just want to sleep with you," she said.

   "Just sleep?"

   "Yes."

   "OK," he said.

   Ten minutes later, Flo was molded against her brother, their arms
entwined.  She had kissed him twice, and the burrowed her face into his
shoulder.

   "This is so nice," she sighed.

   "It's a little dangerous," he said softly.  They were both naked.

   "No it's not," she said.  "You'd never hurt me."

   "You're right," he said, squeezing her.

   Five minutes later she was sound asleep.  It took him longer, but he got
there too.

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

   "WHEN CAN WE GO SEE ..." Bev's excited yell chopped off like someone had
taken an axe to it, when she burst in her brother's bedroom door, and saw
the tousled head of her sister wrapped in her brother's arms.  Both of them
had obviously been asleep, and her yell had awakened them.

   "FLORENCE!" she squeaked.

   "Why are you being so loud?" moaned her sister.

   "What are you doing in bed with Bobby?" Bev's voice was softer, but
harsher too.

   Bev stalked over to the bed and whipped the covers off of the couple,
exposing their naked bodies.

   "DID YOU FUCK HER?!" squealed Bev, trying to look between Florence's
legs.

   Constance stumbled into the open doorway, behind Bev, rubbing her eyes.
She was either still in her clothes, or had put them back on.

   "Fuck who?" she asked.  Her eyes opened wide, as she saw the naked
bodies on the bed.

   Florence, never a morning person to begin with, was enraged that her
peaceful slumber had been torn asunder.  She rolled from the bed, raging,
and a monumental sister fight was underway.  Bobby just watched, amused, as
the misunderstanding flowered.  Constance didn't look happy either, for
that matter, and it appeared as though she couldn't decide whether to be
outraged at Bobby for apparently sleeping with his sister, or spend the
time getting another look at his naked body, as he stood there, waiting for
things to die down.

   Further chaos was instituted into the situation when Mirriam, who had
just gotten home from the hospital, stormed into the room yelling.

   "WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE?!" she screamed.

   The fight broke up instantly.  Mirriam surveyed the tableau of Beverly
and Constance, clothed, and Bobby and Florence, naked.  Her eyes flicked to
the bed, with the covers rumpled.

   "Florence slept with Bobby!" gasped Constance.

   "I DID NOT!" screeched Flo, her face dark red.

   "I SAW YOU!" screeched Bev, just as flushed.

   "Bobby!" barked Mirriam.  "Go to my room and wait for me there."

   "Mamma ..." he said, holding up one hand.  It was time for some
corrections to be made to the assumptions running wild in the room.

   "I said go to my room and wait for me there!" Mirriam's voice was low
and heavy.  It was a voice they all knew well.  Each of them had heard that
voice more than one time in their lives, and it was the voice of a mother
who was NOT happy, and was going to DEAL with a problem.

   Bobby, well above the age where he could have simply said "No", decided
that things would get straightened out sooner or later, so he just went. 
He did not stop to get clothing.  Four sets of feminine eyes watched his
naked buttocks as he left the room, looking at the muscles there rising and
falling with his steps.

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

   He sat there, waiting for his mother, for fifteen minutes.  When she
came in, she looked much calmer.

   "We didn't have sex," he said immediately.

   "I know," she said.  "She explained it to me." Mirriam frowned.  "If you
can actually explain 'just wanting to sleep with your brother'."

   "I didn't mean for everybody to get all worked up," he said.

   "Have you had sex with Beverly?" she asked, ignoring him.

   He answered carefully.  "I have not had intercourse with any of the
women living in this house."

   She relaxed further.  "I'd have sworn Bev was as jealous as it's
possible to be.  Has she slept with you too?"

   "No, Mamma," he sighed, trying to look disappointed that she'd think he
might have.

   "And Constance!  That girl was practically green with envy.  I know she
has a crush on you, but she was acting like you were her man, and had
betrayed her!"

   "She's been kind of lovey dovey to me since Prudence went into labor,"
he admitted.

   "Well, there are enough babies in that house right now!" said Mirriam
firmly.  "Thanks to you, I might add."

   "I know, Mamma," he said softly.  "Twins.  That's pretty amazing."

   "Twins," she sighed.  She moved and sat beside him.  "When I had Matilda
and Betty it was the best day of my whole life." Her hands fidgeted in her
lap.  She looked at her son.  "Except for maybe when I had you." He smiled
at her.  She frowned, but not at him.  "I should have known," she said. 
"If I'd just paid attention ...  she was just like I was, before they were
born.  The poor woman.  She didn't suspect a thing.  Nobody did ...  not
even the doctor.  We all just thought it was going to be a whopping big boy
or something."

   She stood up again.  She had come home to take a shower, and change
clothes.  Now, the part of her mind that had planned that began to prepare
for it.  Her fingers went to the buttons of the loose shirt she was
wearing, and unbuttoned it.

   "Did you know they were talking about taking the baby by C section?" she
asked, not thinking about what she was doing, as she talked.  "She was
supposed to go in today, to make a final decision!  When she went into
labor, and was so far along, they let her try.  The doctor told me he knew
what was going on as soon as Katherine's head crowned.  He knew there was
another one in there, then.  They had a surgery team on standby!  In case
things went wrong!"

   She dropped her blouse on the bed and reached behind her to loosen her
bra.

   "It was a close thing," she sighed, as the bra came undone.

   It was in her hands, her breasts bared before he son, when she suddenly
realized what she was doing, and remembered how he was ...  dressed.

   "Oh my!" she moaned.  "What am I doing?"

   "I don't know, Mamma," he said, smiling.  "But I sure hope you keep
doing it."

   Mirriam covered her breasts with her hands.  She stared at her son, and,
for the first time since coming home, really looked at him.  She'd seen him
in just his underwear, a month or so back, but this was very different. 
Her eyes lit on his penis, and widened as it twitched.

   Had it been a normal day, things might not have transpired the way they
did.  Mirriam had been up, with very little sleep, for more than
twenty-four hours.  The last eighteen of those hours had been emotional
ones, full of stress, and wonder, and joy, as her friend delivered twins.
She had been there, in the morning, when Prudence had awakened, feeling
halfway normal again, and been presented with two babies who took to the
breast as if they were starving.  She had been so frantic to hold them both
that she'd tried to let them suck at the same time, but it was almost
physically impossible.

   As a result, Mirriam had held Kyle, while Katherine ate, and then
cuddled a full, happy Katherine while Kyle sucked lustily at a nipple.

   It had brought back memories ...  very fond memories ...  and had
rekindled emotions of the strongest possible kind.

   Then there had been the blowup at home, which she had had to sort out
and settle, when all she wanted was to take a hot shower and get some
sleep, so she could go back to the hospital to spend time with her friend
...  and those adorable babies.

   Basically, Mirriam was not at her best, in terms of resisting impulses
that she had a hard time resisting even when she was at her best.  When she
was full of Ted's wonderful bent prick, it was easy not to think about her
son.  But Ted wasn't there ...  and her son was.

   "Oh Bobby," she moaned, feeling the pull, and knowing, deep in her
heart, that she just couldn't resist it this time.  She let her hands drop,
and her heart leapt as his eyes feasted on her breasts.  He looked at her
like Ted looked at her, and like Joe had looked at her.  "Oh Bobby," she
sighed, just standing there.

   Bobby sensed the opening.  He had awakened several times, in the night,
with Flo's naked body pressed close to him.  He had, in fact, spent much of
the night hard as a rock, but had done nothing about it.  Generally, Bobby
had the gift of being able to tell if a woman really wanted him or not.  It
had served him well with other women, and he let it work in him now.  He
saw the desire in his mother's eyes.  Taking her didn't go against his
grain, but he knew, from their history, that she had always resisted him
... until now.

   "I said I'd never had intercourse with any of the women living in this
house," he said softly.  "I think that's about to change."

   "Oh Bobby," she moaned.  "It's so wrong."

   "I love you," he said, stepping closer.  "And I know you love me."

   "I do love you," she whispered.  "I shouldn't love you like I do."

   He didn't rush her.  He did embrace her, and press her heavy breasts
into his chest.  He stroked her naked back too, and breathed in the scent
of her hair.

   "I just came home to take a shower," she sighed, putting her arms around
him.

   "Then take one," he said.  He led her to her bathroom, and she followed,
her hand in his.

   He turned on the water, and turned back to her.  She was standing there,
staring at him.  She'd been looking at his backside, as he leaned into the
shower.  His muscles made her belly fill with butterflies.  She stood,
unresisting as he undid her slacks, and pushed them down.  He lifted her
foot, and she had to put a hand on his shoulder, for balance.  He pulled
the slacks off of one leg, and then the other.  Kneeling, his hands went to
her panties.  Her hands went to touch his ...  not stopping him, but trying
to communicate how wrong this was.  He kissed her belly, and what rushed
through her mind was that she had carried him, behind that skin he was
kissing.  He had swollen her belly, and she had stroked him, while he was
still unborn.  Then, when he had come out, and made her the happiest woman
in the world, he had nursed at her breast, like little Kyle and Katherine
had nursed at Prudence's breasts this morning.  Now, he was there, at the
birth canal he had used as a baby, to enter the world.  He wanted back in
that birth canal ...  he wanted to put part of himself back in her womb.

   She let his fingers pull her panties down, and she stepped out of them.
He held the shower curtain for her.  She reached a hand in, feeling the
temperature.  It was perfect.  She stepped in and turned to look at her
son.

   Her hand reached for his, and she pulled him in.

   Chapter Six

   Flo was dressed again.  She and Bev and Constance were all sitting on
Flo's bed.  Everything had been cleared up, but now, both Bev and Constance
were curious about what it had been like.  Flo was disgusted that they
wanted to know, but she also knew she owed them something.  After their
mother had left, to "deal with Bobby" as she had put it, it had come out
that Bev's main problem with the whole fiasco was that she intended to be
the next Dalton girl to give her virginity to Bobby.  She wasn't mad that
Flo had sex with Bobby.  She was mad that Flo had sex with him before SHE
had sex with him.  Of course now she knew that she got mad for nothing.  No
sex had been had.

   All THAT had come out in a more or less tumble of words that did not
take into account that there was a "stranger" in their midst.  When it
occurred to the two girls that Constance was there, it was much too late to
try to explain away the fact that one sister had slept naked with Bobby,
while another one was pissed off because she hadn't had sex with him yet.

   At that point, Constance had to be brought into the small club of girls
who knew that going to Bobby's bedroom at night, could be a very fun little
trip indeed.

   That was when Bev wanted to know what sleeping naked with Bobby all
night long was like.  Constance wanted to know what EVERYTHING was like. 
As it turned out, they both got to find out, because they were not
interrupted at all.

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

   The reason they were not interrupted was because Bobby spent thirty
minutes washing every inch of his mother's body, including her hair, which
alone took fifteen full minutes, to keep it from getting tangled.

   Mirriam then spent about three minutes washing Bobby.  Two of it
involved her hands on his prick.

   The next roughly two minutes were spent by Mirriam, who was now hot as a
pistol, trying to dry herself and Bobby enough that they wouldn't soak the
bed, which she pulled him to, and then spread herself on, laying her wet
hair to one side of her as she pulled her knees up and reached to welcome
Bobby between her thighs.

   He started by nursing her, which was exactly the right thing to do.  She
had wanted to bare her breast and offer it to each baby she'd held that
morning, and the ripples of pleasure his lips gave her only heightened her
already frantic need to be filled with prick.

   Bobby spent the next twenty minutes doing just that, sliding his long,
straight penis deep inside her, making his mother so weak from continuous
orgasms, that she would sleep for six hours straight, waking up only to be
furious that "they" had allowed her to sleep so long when Prudence needed
her.

   As she drove back to the hospital, though, Mirriam Dalton was a very
happy, very satisfied, and very relaxed woman.  Prudence, who again had
Kyle at her breast, with Katherine sleeping in a bassinet nearby, saw it on
her face when she walked into the room.

   "You've been with Ted," she said immediately.

   Mirriam flushed darkly.  "Not Ted," she said, unable to lie to her
friend.

   Prudence raised an eyebrow.

   "Their father," whispered Mirriam, looking from one twin to the other.

   Prudence laughed, and then winced at the discomfort that caused.  She
was now sharing TWO men with this woman.

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

   Christy walked into the diner somewhat hesitantly.  So much had happened
to her in the last month that she wasn't quite sure who she was anymore. 
She had gone from being a woman who didn't believe in infidelity, to a
woman who wasn't quite sure what she believed.  She'd had plenty of time to
think about what had happened.  Her parents hadn't noticed a thing.  She'd
lain on her bed for hours after she got back home, still full of Bobby's
thick sperm.  She knew she should take a shower and wash his scent off of
her body, along with the sweat of their exertions, but, somehow, she didn't
ever want to be clean of him.  She was just as cognizant that all the
lovemaking they had done, had been done without the benefit of any
protection to keep her from becoming pregnant.  She knew she should feel
bad about that ...  should feel guilty that a man's sperm, other than her
husband's, was soaking into her womb.  The problem was that she didn't feel
bad.  She had loved every second of it.  While she was laying there, she
was quite sure that if Bobby walked into the room that very second, all
she'd be interested in was getting naked as quickly as possible, so he'd
have longer to make her feel gloriously alive, before he had to leave
again.

   She shook that off and saw the woman Bobby had told her about.  She sat,
tentatively, at a table, and the woman came toward her immediately.

   "Good morning.  What can I get you?"

   "You're Jill?" asked Christy.

   "Yes?" Jill looked at her, on guard.

   "Bobby Dalton said I should talk to you."

   "Bobby?"

   Bobby hadn't told her anything about what his relationship with Jill
was, and she hadn't asked.  She didn't have to ask anymore, though.  Just
the way the woman said his name was clearly recognizable.  She said it the
same way Christy imagined she'd say it from now on.

   "I need a job," she said, ignoring the little stab of jealousy she felt.
The woman was blond, and busty and cute in a way that made Christy feel
like a little girl.  "He said your boss kept talking about hiring another
waitress."

   "How do you know Bobby?" asked Jill, sitting down.

   "He ...  um ...  he did some work for me," said Christy, blushing.

   Jill's gaze was level for a few seconds.  She saw in Christy, the same
thing that Christy had heard in her voice.

   "I see," she said.  "He kind of gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

   Christy blushed harder.

   "Nevermind that," said Jill, suddenly business like.  "You have any
experience at waiting tables?"

   "No," admitted Christy.

   "Well, neither did I when I started." Jill grinned.  She turned and
yelled over her shoulder.  "Hey Sal ...  there's somebody here you need to
talk to."

   "I'm cooking!" yelled back a man behind the long counter.

   Jill got up.  "I'll cook, while you take care of business," she said.

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

   Fifteen minutes later, Christy was doing on-the-job training, with Jill
as her mentor, supervisor, and advisor.  It was unpaid training, but
Christy didn't mind.  She felt elated just to be making progress, and doing
something different.

   Three hours later, she was hired.  Not only that, there had been time to
be interrogated by Jill, who got her whole life story out of her, minus the
part about being fucked almost senseless by Bobby Dalton.

   "You know what?" said Jill as they rolled flatware into napkins to put
on the tables later.  "I just thought of something.  You're trying to make
it on your own, while your hubby is off making Southeast Asia safe for
democracy.  Why don't you move in with me?  I could use a roommate, and
we'd both save some money."

   "Do you have room?"

   "I got plenty," said Jill.  "I've even got a second bathroom that we
were working on when the marriage went tits up.  Maybe we can get Bobby to
finish that off, and you can have your own bathroom."

   Nine hours later, two of the women who looked to Bobby Dalton for their
sexual needs, were living together.

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

   Bobby walked down the hallway to Prudence's room.  The nursing station
had been deserted when he arrived, and he wasn't actually sure he was
allowed to visit her yet.  He still felt the dull ache left over when, in a
moment of passion that was deeper and stronger than any other he'd ever
felt, he lunged into the woman who had given him life and let his penis
fill her with his semen.  He'd felt almost the same passion when he had
done that with Mary.

   Since being pulled from her bed by Mirriam, swatted on his naked ass,
and told to get dressed, Bobby had mused about that explosion of passion.
He had decided that, while he loved the various women he was having sex
with; he loved them in a very different way than he loved the women in his
own family.  There was something about each woman he had fucked that he
loved.  But he loved everything about Mary and his mother.  He was quite
sure that was why making love to them had felt so much more important to
him.

   Prudence was awake.  There was a baby at one of her breasts.  His mother
sat in a chair nearby, playing with the fingers of the other baby.  Bobby
couldn't tell them apart, yet.

   Her smile, when she saw him made him feel a very similar passion to what
he had just been reflecting, and he realized that she was family too, now,
in many ways.  He didn't know why, but these babies, made in this woman,
seemed more connected to him, somehow, than Tilly's baby, or Martha's baby,
or Sherry's baby, all of which he'd fathered.

   "See what you did?" said Prudence, beaming.

   "I'd say I was sorry, but you don't look very unhappy," he said,
grinning.

   "I'm not unhappy," she sighed.  "I wanted to kill you about fourteen
hours ago, but I've changed my mind since then." She pulled the baby from
her nipple and Bobby saw drops of white milk seeping out of it.  The baby
fussed, and she let it recapture the nipple.  Bobby could see its cheeks
caving in as it sucked.

   "I was going to let you hold your son," she said, touching the hair of
the baby at her breast.  "He seems to have even more fascination for my
breasts than his father."

   Mirriam looked up and smiled dreamily.  Bobby had sucked her nipples
until she was almost crazy with desire for him.

   "You'll have to wait a while, unless you can pry your daughter away from
her Godmother." Prudence looked over at Mirriam, who stood up.

   Bobby accepted the bundled up little girl with an expertise that
surprised both women.  Mirriam had been about to tell him how to hold a
baby, but stood back when he obviously already knew.  With a start, she
remembered that these weren't the first grandchildren he'd produced for
her. He'd held at least three others that she knew of ...  babies she
hadn't been able to hold.  She was making up for it with Prudence's twins.

   "Hi, Katherine," cooed Bobby, cradling the little girl in his arm,
lovingly.  "My goodness but you're a beauty.  You're almost as beautiful as
your mother."

   He stayed a while longer, and got to hold his son as well.  Then he said
he had work to do, and kissed both women goodbye.  Both women got a kiss on
the lips.

   After he was gone, Mirriam took Kyle, while Katherine got a turn at
sucking at her mother's breast.

   "Who do you suppose he's going to see now?" asked Prudence.

   She didn't get an answer, because Ted Brandywine walked into the room.
He stopped, looked at both women, each holding a baby, and sighed.

   "You two look so good holding babies," he said.

   "It's good to see you," said Prudence softly.  "I was beginning to get a
little jealous of Mirriam."

   Ted laughed, and went to lean over and kiss Prudence soundly on the
lips.

   "I can't stay long," he said.  "I skipped school during lunch, but I
have to get back."

   "Just like a man," sighed Prudence.  "Always leaving a woman in the
lurch."

   He laughed again.  "I suspect you wouldn't be quite so welcoming of the
attention I'd like to give you, right now."

   Prudence winced.  "Talk to me in about six weeks," she said.

   "Count on it," he said, smiling.  "Now, do I get to hold the little
rascals?"

   "Which one?" asked Prudence.

   "Both," he said, grinning.

   He collected two armfuls, kissing Mirriam too, in the process.  Then he
sat and told them both a story about a frog, who met two beautiful
princesses, who kissed him, and made him into a prince.

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

   Bobby dropped into the Wagon Wheel cafe, to be surprised by being served
by Christy, a grinning Jill watching from behind the cash register, where
she was taking a customer's money.

   "What can I get you, Sir?" asked Christy, her voice professional.

   "I think I'll take the sheep herder's breakfast," he said, his face
straight.

   She looked confused.  "What's that?" she asked.

   "That's a leg of lamb, and a little piece of ewe." He pronounced "ewe"
as "you".

   "Oh you!" she giggled.

   "You OK?" he asked, his smile gone.

   "I'm fine!" she said.  "I might even be working here, if you don't get
me fired for flirting with the customers.  Sal is letting me show him what
I can do."

   "Well, if it's anything like you showed ME, you've got a job for sure,"
he said.

   She blushed.  "Are you going to order something, or do I have to throw
you out?"

   "Cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke," he said, ignoring the menu.

   "Cheeseburger, fries and a Coke," she repeated, writing it down on her
order pad.

   Bobby stayed only long enough to eat.  He had two jobs to do, and one of
them involved trimming a tree that would be tricky, because it hung over a
house.  Both women ignored him, other than to offer to refill his glass. 
He left not knowing that, by that night, they would be living together at
Jill's house.

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

   Bobby got out of the shower and bent over to ease his aching muscles. 
He had gotten the offending tree limb down, without tearing anything up. 
It had amounted to most of a rick of wood, when he got it all cut up and
stacked.  It had taken him until seven in the evening.

   He toweled off and looked around for his underwear, and realized he
hadn't brought it to the bathroom with him.  It must be sitting on his bed.
His mother had been home when he got there, and fixed him something to eat
before his shower.  She had given him a somewhat lingering kiss on the
lips, but hadn't suggested he come see her, when she said she was going to
bed early.

   He didn't have his watch with him either, but figured it had to be
eight-thirty or nine.  He'd stood under the hot water for a long time, just
soaking in it.  He opened the door of the bathroom and looked out into a
dark hallway.  The girls were either still outside running around, or had
gone to bed already.  You never knew, this time of year.  The weather was
gorgeous and cool and, even though it got dark early, there were many games
and pursuits that could be completed in the dark.  The girls were all old
enough to take off on their bikes to visit friends too.

   His thought that everyone was in bed was disproven when he walked into
his room and found four girls sitting on his bed.  One of them was
Constance, who was playing with his jockey shorts, stretching the waist,
and letting it snap back.

   "Oh!" she chirped, as she looked up and saw him standing there, naked.
Bev, Flo and Linda were there too.

   "Should I put those on?" he asked.

   "No," said Bev.

   "Are you sure Constance should be here?" he asked.

   "She's only going to watch," said Flo.

   To this point, that's all that Flo and Linda had done too ...  watch. 
That was if you didn't count long, hot kisses, with Bobby's hands stroking
them gently on their backs and sides.  Flo's sleeping with him, though, had
changed the point of balance.  Now she had been naked with him too, like
Bev, and had pressed her ripe breasts against him.  He hadn't touched her
breasts, or between her legs.

   And, even this night, they did watch, as Bev stripped and used Bobby to
get herself off.  She alternated, as she rubbed, between kissing him, and
letting him suck her nipples, and three pairs of hungry eyes watched, as
she shuddered through an orgasm that was obvious in its intensity.

   "I want to try that," sighed Constance, moving from foot to foot.

   "You can't," said Flo.

   "Why not?" complained Constance.  "I'm as old as she is."

   "Sometimes he cums, when she does that," said Flo.  "She gets his sperm
all over her when that happens."

   "Did he cum this time?" asked the curious girl.

   "No," whispered Flo, who was breathing deeply.

   "Well then, why can't I try that?" asked Constance.

   "Because I'm next," sighed Flo.

   Both Bobby and Bev looked over.  They'd heard the quiet talk.  Bev
kissed him once more, and then got off, to stand naked on the opposite side
of the bed from the three other young women.

   Feeling like she was in a dream, Flo pulled her nightgown up and off her
head.  She was naked beneath it.  She handed it to Linda, who took it with
wide eyes.  In truth, Linda wanted to try this too, but she didn't think
they'd let her.

   Almost carefully, Flo climbed up onto the bed.  In almost slow motion,
she lifted a knee, and stretched to straddle her brother.  She felt
completely open and defenseless, as her pussy was exposed.

   "Can I?" she asked, staring into Bobby's eyes.

   "If you want to," he said, quietly.

   She looked down.  His penis was still strong and long, and looked shiny,
where Bev's juices still made it wet.  She watched as her body sank down,
until her pussy contacted the thick column of flesh.  She felt the same
terror she'd felt when he'd first kissed her, but she knew now, that that
terror wasn't based on her fear of Bobby.

   It was based on her fear of her own desires.  She had fought off those
desires since puberty.  Feeling like she wanted sexual things, she had
pushed those feelings away constantly.  She had simply decided that she
wasn't interested in sex, because that seemed like the smartest and safest
thing to do.  Her body had disagreed with her, though, wanting sexual
contact anyway.  The one concession she had made to her body was learning
how to rub, between her legs, to get some relief.

   Now, as her pussy felt the heat of his prick, she knew with certainty
that, one day, she would demand that that prick enter her body.  Her mind
railed at her, shouting "NO!", but her body sighed and said "Oh yes ... 
someday."

   Kissing Bobby wasn't scary any more.  It still made her belly flutter,
and her nipples tingle, but that was a familiar flutter and tingle now. 
So, she went for the familiar, and lay down on him to get a kiss.

   The feel of her breasts pressing against his flesh reminded her of the
previous night, when she had lain with him naked, all night.  Never had she
felt so safe and warm as she had with his arms around her.

   She had to move up, to reach his lips, and, as her body slid, her clit
eased along his bone.  By the time that electric zing registered, her lips
were pressed to his, and her muffled "Uhh!" was swallowed by his mouth. 
She didn't know what to do, as new feelings washed over her.

   Bobby knew what to do, though, and his hands came to grip her tight,
slim butt.  He pulled her further up, and then pushed her down.

   It was better than rubbing herself.  It was MUCH better than rubbing
herself.

   She had seen Bev do this, dozens of times.  She had never tired of
watching them.  Part of her mind had, unknown to her, analyzed Bev's
technique, and that part of her mind now took over.  She sat back up, and
her hips began a rapid to and fro motion, as an orgasm shouted that it was
coming.

   When it got there, she leaned forward, by instinct, to put even more
pressure on her screaming clitty, and Bobby sucked a nipple for the first
time.

   She thought she'd go insane, for about fifteen seconds, as an orgasm so
strong that it threatened to unhinge her wracked her body.  Her lungs
surged, and her efforts not to scream closed off her throat, resulting in a
drawn out "Eeeeeeeeeeeee" as the most beautiful thing she'd ever felt in
her life zipped through what seemed like every cell in her body.

   Flo rolled, lifelessly, to lie beside Bobby, and panted.  Linda darted
forward and took Bobby's prick in her hand, not asking, just doing.  She
started stroking it madly, much faster than Bev had done it.  Bobby had
been close already, because of the novelty of having Flo in such close
sexual contact with him.  Within twenty seconds, he grunted, and a thick
line of white burst from the tip of his penis, shooting up into the air a
foot and a half.

   Bev darted forward, and leaned down to try to capture the rest in her
mouth, forgetting that Constance was in the room, and had never seen any of
this before.  She didn't quite get there fast enough, and got a squirt on
her face.  Linda was still jerking wildly and pushed at Bev.  She was so
inflamed that she put her own mouth over the tip, unprepared in any way for
what happened.  Two more jets filled her mouth before her brain caught up
and screamed for her to stop.

   She pulled back, letting go of his prick, as it gave one, last
convulsive jerk, and put a puddle of spunk on his abdomen.  Linda opened
her mouth and waved her hands in the air, suddenly realizing she had a
mouth full of her brother's sperm.  Instinct crept in, while her mind was
non-functional, and her mouth closed automatically, in preparation for her
throat muscles to clear it out.  The gulp that followed was lost in the
sensation of taste, and she blinked.  She looked at her hand, which was wet
with the same thing.

   Her brain finally decided it approved, and she licked her hand, like a
cat, cleaning its paw.

   "Oh shit!" moaned Constance.  "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" She stared at
all three of her friends.  Bev was cleaning her face off with her fingers,
dipping them into her mouth like she was eating melted chocolate.  This was
so much more than the poor girl had anticipated.  Really, she hadn't known
what to expect.  All she knew was that these girls did something sexual
with him - they all said he didn't go inside them - and she knew she had to
see that.  All she had to compare it to were a couple of kisses that were
hard to remember, and the feel of her breast, pressing into his arm as he
drove.  This ...  this almost made her want to sit down and cry.

   So she did.

   She sat, suddenly, and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her
arms around them.  She sobbed, and was inundated by three girls, who came
to hug her.  Bev's face was right nest to hers, and Linda's was too.  She
could smell the musky odor that her mind told her was his sperm ...  on
Bev's face ...  and Linda's breath.  Florence cooed soothing things into
the top of her head, and hands stroked her.

   "I'm OK," she moaned, knowing she wasn't OK at all, but needing that
smell to move away from her.  She pushed at them, and struggled to her
feet.

   Bobby was standing between her and the door.

   Her eyes took in the muscles she adored ...  the form of the man she had
dreamed about ...  had seen fucking her mother ...  had seen with her
friends, only moments before.  Her eyes went to his penis, which hung,
limp, but looked dark and wet.  She had taken two steps toward the door ...
toward escape from the stimuli that were threatening to overwhelm her
completely, but she froze now.

   "I won't hurt you," said Bobby softly.  He held up his arms ...  an
invitation for a hug.

   She wanted that hug.  She wanted it desperately ...  but he was naked!

   "Ohhhhhhh," she moaned.

   "I'll never hurt you," he said soothingly.

   "I can't stay," she moaned.

   He lowered his arms, and stepped to the side.  The door was there, and
she moved toward it, feeling relief so strong that she was afraid she might
pee her pants.  Her brain said "Silly girl ...  you don't have to pee", and
her steps slowed.  She realized she was standing there, facing the door,
and that the hug she wanted was behind her.  A fear, greater than her other
un-named fears, assailed her.  If she left now, would she ever get that
hug? She turned, tears in her eyes, and looked at him again.

   "Bobby," she whined, unable to articulate what she was feeling.

   He stepped toward her and she almost ran to claim her hug.

   Chapter Seven

   It was a glorious fall day, with the hint of winter on the air.  The
nippy weather had worried Prudence, as Bobby helped her to the car. 
Constance was at home, preparing for the babies to come home that day. 
Prudence tucked a receiving blanket more closely around Kyle, and then
fussed at Bobby to do the same thing for Katherine.  He ignored her and put
her in the front seat, handing her the other baby, once she was settled.

   He drove carefully, and then took one of them - he still couldn't tell
them apart - so that Prudence could get out of the car.  Once the front
door was closed behind them, and Constance was there to lovingly accept
Katherine from her mother, Prudence sighed.

   "It's so good to be back home," she said.  She turned, feeling the urge
to take Kyle from Bobby, and made herself stop.

   "I'm famished!" she said.

   "Lunch is on the stove," said Constance, poking at her little sister
with one finger.

   "You want to hold them both?" asked Bobby, as Prudence pulled herself
away, making herself leave her babies with the others.  She felt like she
had just woken from a dream, walking where she wanted to, to get what she
wanted to eat.  She heard Constance giggle at the thought of holding both
her siblings at once, and tried to concentrate on getting something to eat.


   While she ate, she couldn't help but peek into the living room, where
Constance was now sitting, with a baby in either arm.

   "All you can do is hold them, when you have both," she said.  "You can't
play with them!"

   "You'll have plenty of time to play with them," she heard Bobby say. 
"She's going to need a lot of help."

   "I know ...  but I have to go to school!" moaned Constance.

   "I'll stop in as often as I can," said Bobby.  "Is that OK?"

   Prudence wondered why he had asked Constance for permission.  What did
her daughter have to say about when Bobby came, or didn't?

   She saw Constance look up at him and blush.

   "Of course," she said.

   "I'm glad," said Bobby.

   "Well you should be," said Constance, with uncharacteristic firmness in
her voice.

   None of this made sense to Prudence.  She had seen Constance blossom,
coming out of her shell, since Bobby had come into their lives.  She had
even gone on a few dates.  True, she wouldn't go out unless Bev was with
her, but still, that was an amazing change.  She knew that Constance had a
crush on Bobby, but it seemed to be under control, and Bobby had assured
her he wouldn't do anything with Constance unless ...  He hadn't been very
specific about that.  She'd gotten the impression he wouldn't do anything
with the girl unless he asked her mother first.  But he hadn't actually
SAID that.  Not in those words.  But she could sense a familiarity between
them that hadn't been quite that familiar when she'd gone to the hospital
to have Bobby's twins.

   Twins!  She still had a hard time accepting that she'd had twins.

   Bobby was suddenly walking toward her, a smile on his face.

   "It's good to see you back here," he said.  "We've missed you."

   He was obviously talking about him and Constance, and her suspicion
flared again.

   "Come here," she said, pulling him into the kitchen, where Constance
couldn't see them.

   She kissed him first, the first time she'd had the chance to kiss him
unobserved, and the way she wanted to kiss him.  In that kiss she poured
all her emotion about what he'd done to change her life.  But that kiss was
for another reason too.  She'd learned that, after a kiss like that, she
could ask him anything, and he'd answer it honestly.

   She pulled back, wanting to kiss him longer, but putting that aside for
now.

   "What happened between you and Constance while I was in the hospital?"
she asked, holding him so he couldn't separate from her, or turn away.  She
stared at his eyes.

   "She freaked out when you went into labor," he said calmly.  "I kissed
her, to shock her out of it."

   "Like you kiss me?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

   "Almost," he admitted.

   "Is that all?" she asked.

   He grinned at her.

   "She freaked out a couple of times," he said.  "She's still a virgin, if
that's what you're worried about."

   "Oh," she said, not sure if she'd actually learned anything or not.

   "I think she likes to be kissed," he admitted.

   "I don't think she's ready for you, yet," said Prudence, astonished that
she'd even consider letting Bobby do the same things with her daughter that
he'd done with her.  That thought made her mind seem to twist in her skull.

   "I think you're right about that," he said.

   That helped her mind steady, somehow.  She pushed the disturbing thought
back in her mind, satisfied that things were still all right, for the
present.

   "My babies!" she yipped, pushing him away.

   "They're fine," he said.  "Get something to eat.  You can have them back
after that."

   "You're right," she sighed.  "This is going to take some getting used
to."

   "We'll help you as much as we can," he said.

   "Help!" came a faint plaintive cry from the living room.

   "What's wrong?" asked Prudence anxiously, moving toward the living room.

   "Kyle is all squirmy and fussy!" called out Constance.

   "Eat!" said Bobby, stopping her with his hands on her waist.  "He
probably just needs his diaper changed.  If he's hungry, I'll call you."

   "OK," she said reluctantly.  "The diapers are in the bag."

   "I know," he said, kissing her on the nose.  "Go eat!"

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

   Constance watched as Bobby expertly checked Kyle's diaper, and then
changed it.  She stared at the tiny penis sprouting from the joining of her
brother's legs.

   "It doesn't look at all like yours," she said, absently.

   "It will, some day," said Bobby.

   That made Constance try to imagine Kyle, all grown up.  He looked like
Bobby in her mind's eye.  She wondered if, when he was twenty-three, and
she was ...  forty! ...  if she would do with him, what Bobby's sisters
did. She felt heat in her belly, and looked at Bobby, who was intent on
getting the new diaper in place.

   She thought about last night.  She was fine, now, of course, but she
still remembered the tumultuous emotions that had threatened her sanity
last night.  When she'd rushed into his embrace, things had gotten
amazingly better, almost instantly.  When his arms had gone around her,
she'd suddenly felt safe again, like she had every time he'd ever hugged
her.  His little kisses on her hair, and his soothing voice had helped calm
her too.  The girls had come over, making it into a group hug.  She smelled
his sperm again, but it wasn't so shocking this time, and, with him there,
pressed against her, it smelled ...  right, somehow.

   She had looked up, knowing somehow that he would kiss her again.  She
had let him do that, and it had turned into something that made her world
somehow complete.  There was no threat in that kiss, no urgency to worry
her.  All it was was his lips telling her how much he cared about her, and
how happy he wanted her to be.  She had tried to return those sentiments,
as she kissed him back.  It had been a very long kiss, but she'd wanted it
to be long.  When it was over, the girls had taken her back to Flo's room,
where there was a bed she could sleep in.  They'd stayed with her, talking
about everything except what had just happened, at first.  Eventually,
though, they'd gotten around to talking about how each of them felt, about
what had happened just down the hall.  Being able to share her feelings
about it all was what had brought closure to her fears.

   She knew now that, no matter what happened, she'd never be afraid of
Bobby again.

   She looked at him now, tending her little brother.  She wanted another
one of those long kisses.  Her mother came into the room.  She felt her
heart almost burst as she saw how her mother looked at Bobby, taking care
of Kyle.  Her mother's eyes moved to her, holding Katherine, and she saw
the same outpouring of affection.  Bobby had made her feel loved, the night
before.  Now her mother piled a ton of love on top of that.

   She got up, tears in her eyes, and, somehow, hugged her mother without
crushing Katherine.

   "I love you so much, Mamma," she moaned.

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

   Bobby's first clue that his life might be a bit more complicated was
when he stopped at Jill's, to see if she needed any attention, and Christy
answered the door, dressed as a Wagon Wheel waitress.

   Both stared at each other.  Christy naturally assumed he was there to
see Jill.

   "Jill's at work," she said.

   "What are you doing here?" he asked.

   "I live here now!" she said.  "We're roommates!"

   "Wow!" said Bobby.

   "Come on in," she said.  "I'll show you my room."

   She did, and, while she was at it, showed him the unfinished bathroom.
There was a stool in place, but not hooked up to water.  The rest of the
room was pretty much bare.

   "I can certainly help you with this," he said.

   "I wish there were a way to incorporate a dark room in here," she said.
"I can't get the pictures we took developed anywhere, you know."

   "Yeah," he said, smiling.  "I suspect they'd raise an eyebrow or two."

   "I'm really glad ..." she said softly.  "About what happened, I mean."

   "I was hoping you wouldn't feel guilty," he admitted.

   "I don't," she said.  "He's choosing the Army over me.  I can't help
that, but I CAN help how I feel."

   "He may not have much choice," cautioned Bobby.

   "He didn't have to extend," she said, firmly.  "He's choosing to stay
there, and I'm stuck here." She looked at Bobby.  "Then again, since I met
you, being stuck here isn't so bad anymore."

   Invitation was in her eyes, and Bobby felt no guilt about answering her.
Their kiss, in the unfinished room, was similar to their relationship,
which was evolving and changing.

   "I don't have very long," she panted, when the kiss broke.  "I have to
be at the diner in half an hour."

   "That's not very long," he sighed.

   "I'll stay dressed," she panted.

   When they got to her bedroom, she bent over and slid panties down her
legs, under her skirt.  She lay on the bed and flipped her skirt up on her
stomach, baring her pussy to him, and spreading her legs.

   He got her wet by licking her pussy, another new thing for her, that
Richard had never done.  Then he was in her, and she saw fireworks again,
humping up against him.  She heard a familiar thumping sound and looked up
to see the headboard, banging against the wall.  She laughed, joyous as an
orgasm claimed her.  There was no one else to hear this knocking, and it
sounded like music to her ears.

   So did his groan, as he pushed deep and went still.  This time, she had
the presence of mind to concentrate on it, as pulses of heat filled her
belly.  This time, she was able to crave and welcome that heat, as this man
made her happy again.  His kiss, as his penis drained into her, made her
want to keep going, but she knew she had to be on time.

   Pushing her off of him, she made him promise to come see her that night,
forgetting completely that Jill would be there too.  She pulled on her
panties and ran, to get to her car, and get to work, leaving him there to
survey the bathroom, and what it would need.

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

   Jill saw her old car parked at the curb, and her heart gave a lurch in
her chest.  Christy hadn't said anything when, beaming and happy, she
entered the diner and took over for Jill.  Her step quickened as Jill went
to see if Bobby was inside.

   He was, but the odor hit her like a hand on her face.

   "It smells like sex in here!" she blurted, as she saw Bobby standing in
the unfinished bathroom.

   Her mind made the connection, in a burst of understanding.  Bobby had
sent the girl to her for a job.  He had worked for her too.  Jill knew how
unhappy Christy was, about her marital situation, and how that could affect
a woman when she was around Bobby.

   "You did it with her too!" she gasped, as Bobby turned.

   "Are you jealous?" he asked, calmly.

   Her hand went to her abdomen, where life was growing ...  just beginning
to be visible, in the mirror, when she was naked.  She looked at Bobby. 
She had already told him she had no intention of marrying him ...  that
she'd have his child, but that marriage was not an option.  She had no real
claim on his affections.  Why, then, did she feel the tightness in her
chest.

   "I think I am," she said.

   "You know I love you," he said.

   "Yes," she admitted, feeling the familiar rush of emotion that was there
whenever he looked at her like that.  "Do you love her too?"

   "She needed me," he said, simply.

   "Are you going to knock her up too?" Jill had no idea why she was
punishing herself like this.  He'd SAID he loved her, and she knew he was
telling the truth, as strange as that kind of love was.

   "If she lets me," he said, maddeningly.

   "Did you save anything for me?" she asked, pouting.

   "Oh yeah," he said, grinning.

   Twenty minutes later Jill lay, spent.  She was sure ...  convinced
beyond any doubt ...  that Bobby Dalton still loved her.  She was also sure
that it wouldn't matter how many other women he slept with ...  he'd always
make time for her.  She didn't think of the irony of that evaluation of her
very strange relationship with him.  She just took comfort in it.

   Thirty minutes later, she took comfort in it again, as he groaned and
gave her his precious gift a second time.

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

   He'd finished painting the Huffington's house, and it was almost dark,
when Bobby parked in front of Jill and Christy's house.  Again, Christy
answered the door.  Jill was curled up with a book, on the couch.

   "I have the information about the dark room," he said, smiling.

   Christy felt her heart jump, not at his words, but because he was here
...  like she'd asked him to be.

   "I haven't talked about that with Jill, yet," she said, her eyes
wistful, as she realized there was a problem with her plan to get naked
with Bobby again.

   Jill listened as Christy talked about what could be done with a dark
room in the house.  Christy, at work, had dreamed of having her own studio,
and processing her own prints.  It could become a full time business, at
some point, if she did good enough work.

   Jill saw the emotion in Christy, as she looked at Bobby.  What she saw
there was as familiar as Bobby's touch was now.  She liked this girl, whose
life was in such turmoil right now.  She knew what it was like to be
disgusted with a husband ...  or ex husband, in her case, and how much
better Bobby could make a woman like that feel.

   "It's fine," she said firmly, cutting Christy off.  "I'm reading,
though, and all this talk is distracting.  Why don't you finish talking
about it in your bedroom, Christy, so I can read in peace?"

   Christy's eyes went round, and then returned to normal, as she blushed.

   "OK!" she agreed immediately.  "Yes!"

   Jill smiled to herself as the girl dragged Bobby towards her bedroom. 
She smiled wider when she heard the faint sounds of feminine moans, and,
for ten seconds, the rhythmic thumping of what sounded like someone
pounding a nail.  That cut off and there followed the faint scraping sound
of a bed, being pulled across a wooden floor.

   Then the moans started again.

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

   It was mid November, and Mirriam cuddled Kyle, while Constance changed
Katherine's diaper.  Prudence was in her bedroom, with Ted, "discussing
something".  They weren't fooling Constance.  They both knew that.  Mirriam
had been "discussing something" with him in that room an hour earlier, and
she knew his sperm was running down her leg as she cuddled her grandson.

   Constance ignored it all, though, or seemed to.  She spent hours caring
for her brother and sister, never complaining, always eager to hold a baby,
and love a baby and get to know their little bodies as she changed the, or
bathed them.  She treated Ted like a favorite uncle, teasing him,
sometimes, and exchanging jokes.  She didn't have him for a teacher, but he
was able, on occasion, to help her with her homework, when she was stuck.
He generally came to their house, in the evenings.  It was too much trouble
to take the twins to his house.  Mirriam spent a lot of evenings there too,
and Constance knew it was just as much because Ted was there, as it was
that her best friend and grandchildren were there.

   That Ted was fucking both women, was clear to Constance.  Her world,
though, had changed so radically in the last year, that this was just
another odd thing that she had gotten used to.  She had gone out with the
same boy three times in a row, now.  The first two times had been with Bev
and her boyfriend, Bill Gregory.  Tim Appleton, the boy Bill had set her up
with, had asked her out on a separate date, which had been scary, at first.
But he had been the same Tim as when the others were there.  He held her
hand, and wanted to kiss her good night.  She had accepted just a peck on
the lips, and he had grinned like it was the best kiss in the world.  He
was really a nice guy, who seemed really interested in her, and didn't seem
to mind her teeth.  Maybe it was because he wanted to be a dentist, like
his father.

   Her mother came out of the bedroom, with Ted, looking relaxed and happy.

   It made Constance wonder what it would feel like to be relaxed ...  and
happy ...  because of doing that.

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

   During the rest of November, Bobby and Christy worked together to build
the darkroom.  She and Jill maintained the illusion that they were unaware
of the fact that Bobby was fucking them both.  It became almost comical as
Christy tried to ignore the fact that Jill's belly was swelling with what
she knew had to be Bobby's baby.  It did make her think about the fact that
she should be on the pill, since she never thought about anything but
loving the heat of his spunk as it spurted into her unprotected womb.

   Somehow, that never seemed to happen, though.  She was either at work or
working on painting the walls of her bathroom flat black.  She laughed,
since Bobby insisted on making it a functional bathroom, as well as dark
room.  He found a used tub, which he wanted to install, with a fold-down
table on the wall, above it, for her trays and chemicals to rest on when
she was developing pictures.  She explained that she wouldn't want to take
a bath in a tub that had traces of silver iodide in it anyway, and then
pointed out that it would take more than the three of them to carry the
thing in anyway.  He finally relented, when Jill insisted that Christy
could use the other bathroom anyway, but left the stool operational, saying
that she wouldn't have to leave the darkroom to go to the bathroom.  She
laughed, and shook her head, but gave in on that issue.  It would, as
things turned out, be a good idea.

   The fiction that neither woman knew about the other's amorous activities
with Bobby crumbled when, on a Saturday, they all piled in the car to drive
to Wichita, to look in the flea markets there for darkroom equipment. 
Christy found an enlarger that was only four years old, and, though it was
older, the rest of the equipment she needed to get started developing both
color and black and white prints.  She was dismayed though, when after
buying the enlarger, she didn't have enough to pay for the rest.  She
almost cried as both Bobby and Jill kicked in for the rest, telling her it
was a loan, and that she could pay them back.

   She was so overwrought that she hugged Jill, and kissed her on the
cheek, and then turned to hug Bobby, who just naturally kissed her on the
lips, holding the kiss much, MUCH longer than a casual thank you kiss would
be held.  When they stopped, and saw Jill blushing and looking away, Bobby
stepped to her and pulled her into his arms too.

   "You deserve a kiss for helping too," he said, grinning, and then laid
one on her that made her knees weak.

   "People are looking at us!" hissed Christy, whose face was red too.

   "OK," said Bobby, letting go of Jill, who held onto his forearm to get
her balance.  "The thank yous will have to wait."

   The enlarger turned out to be too big to fit in either the trunk or back
seat of Christy's car, but they were able to squeeze it in the front
passenger area.  With the trunk full of stuff, which included some
partially used cans of chemicals, and packs of paper that were nearing
their expiration date, that left Jill and Bobby in the back seat, squeezed
together because of boxes of film developing canisters, filters, a print
drying machine, and other things that Christy knew how to use, but the
others hadn't a clue about.

   Within ten miles, Bobby's hand was smoothing over Jill's belly, while
they kissed in the back seat.  His hand slid inside the expandable front of
her maternity pants, and she squealed as he fingered her to an orgasm. 
Christy, sneaking looks in the rear view mirror, managed not to run off the
road until Jill slapped at Bobby's hands and hissed that they were not
alone.  Then she pulled to the shoulder, got out, went to the passenger
back door and pulled it open.

   "Jill, you can drive for a while," she said, already breathing deeply.

   Blushing, Jill climbed out, and Christy took her place.  When the car
got going again, Bobby pulled Christy's shirt up to suck at her nipples,
while he fingered her to orgasm too.

   Jill did a better job of watching the road, mostly because he had taken
the edge off for her.

   Chapter Eight

   Saturday, November the thirtieth came and went, normally, by most
observations.  Mirriam went to Prudence's in the morning, and stayed until
afternoon.  She came home then, to spend a little time with her family. 
She seemed distracted, but the girls were used to that now.  Any time she
spent time at Prudence's, particularly if Ted was there too, which was
every Saturday now, Mamma seemed a little distracted when she got home. 
Bev and Flo had their suspicions as to why she was so distracted, but kept
them to themselves.

   "Where's Bobby?" she asked, when she came in.

   "He's putting the blade on the tractor," said Susie, who was playing
Scrabble with Matilda and Betty.  "Bev is spending the day with Bill ... 
again!" She stressed the last word.  "Why?"

   "I just need to talk to him," said Mirriam, looking distracted.

   "He's in the barn," said Susie, who went back to the game.

   Mirriam hadn't asked about Flo, who was, in fact, in the midst of being
firmly and thoroughly kissed by Bobby, in the barn.  She pushed him away,
panting, when he rubbed her butt through her jeans.

   "You're trying to get in my panties again," she moaned.

   "Desperately." He grinned.

   "I know you're doing it with some of those women you work for!" she
said, slapping at him.

   "I know you want me to do it with you," he said, grinning wider. 
"That's why you won't go out with any guys."

   "I won't go out with any guys because there aren't any guys I'm
interested in going out with," she said, using circular logic.  "That
doesn't mean I want to stop being a virgin.  Rubbing is enough, for me."
She backed up, as he took a step toward her.  In fact, she was painfully
aware of how easy it would be to let his prick slip into her slippery pussy
while she rubbed on him.  She'd been having dreams about it, recently.

   "I need a three quarters inch bolt," said Bobby.  "It has to be six
inches long, at least," he said.  "I also need a lock washer and nut.  You
think you can find one in the tool shed?"

   "If it will keep me a virgin a little longer, I'll find it!" she teased.

   She went out one door of the barn, as Mirriam came in another.

   "Bobby?" she called out.

   "Over here," he called back, standing up from attaching one strut of the
four foot wide blade to the triple hitch of the tractor.

   "I need to talk to you," she said.

   "Just talk?" he teased.  She'd let him have her four more times, since
that day after the twins were born.  She was always passionate beyond
belief as she lunged up to meet his thrusts.  He had some understanding of
why Joe couldn't keep away, all those years ago.

   "This is serious," she said, coming around the corner.

   He swept her into his arms, and kissed her soundly.  Her hands scrabbled
at him, initially, but then she went limp and hugged him, kissing him back.

   "Now that," he said, when their lips broke apart, "was serious." He slid
a hand to cup one breast, and felt for the nipple.

   "What?" her eyes were slightly out of focus.

   "You're not wearing a bra," he breathed, into her ear.

   "I left it at Pru's," she sighed, as he found the nipple and pinched it.

   "Ted just took care of you...  and you need more?" he teased, sliding
his hand up under her shirt, to grasp her naked breast.

   "Stop!" she moaned.  "I think I'm pregnant."

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

   Florence found the bolt easily.  The lock washer was easy too, but a nut
that fit took a little while.  She dumped the coffee can of nuts and
finally found one that turned onto the end of the bolt.

   She entered the barn to hear her mother's voice say: "Stop!  I think I'm
pregnant."

   For reasons not really clear, Flo stopped, and remained silent.  She
crept forward, to peek around the corner, where she saw her mother and
brother standing, in an embrace.  She saw Bobby's hand ...  UNDER her
mother's blouse!  She held her breath as she saw her mother's left breast
move and wiggle, and realized it was his hand she was seeing move.

   "How do you feel about that?" asked Bobby.

   "How SHOULD I feel about it?" moaned the woman.  "It could be YOURS,
Bobby!"

   Florence almost let out the gasp, but got her hand over her mouth so
that it only leaked out of her nose, instead.

   "It could be Ted's too," said Bobby.

   "Of COURSE it could be Ted's," Flo heard he mother moan.  "But it could
be yours too!"

   "I hope it is mine," said Bobby.

   Florence felt dizzy.  The bolt slipped, in her fingers, and she
concentrated on holding it tighter, so it wouldn't drop, and make a noise.

   "How can you say that?" wailed their mother.

   "Because I love you," he said.  "I love making love to you, and if I
were able to put a little baby in you, I'd love that too."

   "How many babies do you WANT?" whined Mirriam.  "You've already got four
or five...  six or seven for all I know!"

   "Joe gave you seven," said Bobby, so quietly that Flo had to lean
forward to hear him.

   "I don't NEED another baby!" she moaned.

   "Do you want to keep this baby?"

   "That's not fair, Bobby.  It could be yours.  I could never give this
baby to anybody else."

   "Then if you're pregnant, I'll help you raise it," he said.

   "Ohhhhh, what am I going to do with you?" groaned Mirriam.  "How did I
let things get so far out of hand?"

   "Personally," said Bobby, "I think it's because you have a horny streak
in you." He laughed, and then kissed her ...  right on the lips ...  just
like he kissed Bev ...  and Linda ...  and Constance ...  and, thought Flo,
something fluttering wildly in her belly ...  herself.

   Flo felt like she might explode.  She backed up, trying to be careful,
and hurry at the same time.  She managed to get outside before her knees
gave out, and she sat down in the dirt.  The bolt rolled into the dust, as
her fingers let it go.  Bobby had fucked their mother!  Something twisted
in her mind.  Her mother had LET Bobby fuck her!  She knew, deep in her
heart, that it couldn't possibly have happened, unless her mother had
allowed it ...  welcomed it.  And there was Ted to think about too!  Her
mother was letting TWO men fuck her, and one of them had made her pregnant!

   Flo moaned.  Her own feelings came in to perspective.  She had that
horny streak in her too ...  the one she'd gotten from her mother ...  the
one that she felt, deep in her bones, would mean that she too, would end up
pregnant.  She thought of the last time she had ridden Bobby's penis.  It
had spurted on his belly, and she had rubbed her pussy through it, having a
wild, crazy orgasm.  It had been so warm and slippery.  She had loved the
hot feeling, as her clitty thanked her for doing this wonderful thing.

   She suddenly felt like running away from home.  She didn't want to be
pregnant.  Not yet.  Maybe some day, but not yet.  Her mind twisted again,
as she realized she had just admitted that, some day, she might want Bobby
to impregnate her!  She couldn't think of any other man doing that.  She
didn't know another man she'd even let TOUCH her, much less do that!

   Her eyes fell on the bolt.  He'd sent her after it, and if she didn't
return, he'd come find her.  Panic that she hadn't felt since that first
disturbing kiss from Bobby's lips, washed over her.  Adrenaline rushed into
her bloodstream.  She leapt to her feet and grabbed the bolt on the way. 
Running as if wolves were after her, she tore back into the barn.  She
approached Bobby and her mother, who were standing apart, now, talking
quietly, and thrust the bolt into his hands.

   "THERE!" she yelled.  "I HAVE TO GO!" She ran pell mell from the barn,
heading for the house.  No, he could find her there.  She altered course,
and headed for the lane, leading to the gravel road, that went to the
blacktop.

   She made it two miles before she had to stop and walk.

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

   "What in the world is wrong with her?" asked Mirriam.

   Bobby frowned.  He'd seen Flo act like this before.

   "I think she may have heard us talking," he said.

   Mirriam paled.  "Oh no!  What if she heard ...?"

   "She's going to find out sooner or later," said Bobby.  "I'd better go
after her."

   "Where did she go?" asked a confused Mirriam.

   "I don't know, but I need to find her," said Bobby.

   "Why?" cried his mother.

   "Because she's scared," he said.  He couldn't explain the rest.  He was
worried about it all coming out, but he was more worried about Flo.

   He checked the house first.  The twins and Susie said they hadn't seen
her.  He went back outside, and looked at the road.  He could barely see
her, running hard down the gravel, toward the blacktop.  She'd already made
a mile, in just six or seven minutes.

   He hopped in his car, and drove after her.

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

   She heard the crunch of gravel under tires, as she stepped foot on the
black top.  She turned, and her heart sank as she saw Bobby's car.  She
didn't have anything left in her.  She was gasping for breath, and had a
stitch in her side.  When had it gotten this hard to run?

   It was fruitless.  He'd caught her.  He'd take her back, and strip her
naked, and then he'd push that monster prick up in her and make her
pregnant.

   She heard the door slam, and stood, waiting, looking at the ground.

   "You OK?" he asked.

   "No," she panted.

   "Come back to the house," he said.

   "NO!" she shouted.

   "We can get through this, Flo," he said softly.

   "I don't ...  want ...  to be ...  pregnant!" she panted.

   "Then you won't be," he said.  He sounded so reasonable.

   "Yes!" she said explosively.  "You'll do it."

   "Not unless you want that, Flo," he insisted.

   She whirled.  "I DO!" she screamed.  "DON'T YOU GET IT?" She subsided,
panting again.

   "No, you don't," he said, maddeningly.  "If you did, you wouldn't be all
upset."

   "You got mamma PREGNANT!" she gasped.

   "Maybe," he said.

   "Did SHE want that?"

   "I don't know," he answered.

   "Didn't you ASK her?!"

   "It didn't exactly come up," he said.

   "Then the same thing would happen to me," she moaned.

   "No, it won't," he insisted.  "I won't make love to you ...  or if I do,
you can go on the pill."

   She crumpled.  "I need you, Bobby," she whined.

   "I know, baby," he said softly.  "I need you too."

   "You do?"

   "I love you, Flo.  I don't want to hurt you."

   "I can't stop," she moaned.  "But I'm so scared!"

   "We'll talk to Mamma.  We'll get you on birth control pills."

   "I can't tell her," cried Flo.  "She'll throw me out of the house!"

   "She's pregnant, Flo," he reminded her.  "She's not going to throw
anybody out of the house."

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

   It took him thirty minutes, after he caught up with her, to talk her
into the car.  He finally succeeded by telling her to get in the back.  By
the time they got back to the house she had calmed.  That lasted only until
Mirriam came out and stood on the porch, looking worried.

   The little girl in Flo, that resisted growing up, took over and she
rushed into her mother's arms.  Mirriam took her straight to her room, and
closed the door.  She left it to Bobby to make sure no one bothered them.

   They stayed in there for an hour and a half.

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

   When they emerged, it was obvious that both of them had been crying. 
The tears were gone, and Flo was acting more or less normal.  Mirriam
looked worn, but her eyes pinned on Bobby.  Without a word, he got up and
walked to her room and sat on the bed, waiting for her.

   The only vitriol she expressed was a single sentence: "Your own
sisters?! Are you insane!?" But her own indiscretions robbed her of the
kind of anger that would have caused a serious rift.  That and her
understanding of just how alluring Bobby could be.  She mourned, for a bit,
the innocence of her daughters, but then reason told her they wouldn't have
remained innocent under any circumstances.  At least he wasn't fucking
them. That much she was pretty certain of.  And, at least the three
youngest hadn't fallen into the trap.  Not yet, anyway.

   It didn't help that he had little, if any remorse.  That caused a
peculiar sensation in Mirriam.  He made it quite clear that, if he was the
one who had put life in her womb again, that he would be proud.  That was
difficult for a woman to be upset about ...  that a man wanted her that
much ...  loved her that much ...  claimed her that much.  His lack of
remorse for his sisters was couched in a different way.  He said, simply,
that they'd do it anyway, and at least if they were doing it with him, he
could control how dangerous things got.  Her talk with Flo had confirmed
that.  Flo had described how Bev had wanted to be more and more intimate,
but that Bobby had steadfastly refused to enter her, even when she begged
for only a little.

   She was a bit confused how, at the end of her disciplinary session with
Bobby, she had ended up in his arms, with her lips pressed to his, and
their tongues flicking against each other.  But he hadn't pushed her beyond
that point, something she was glad of, because, when they left her bedroom,
her pussy was wet.

   She didn't talk to the other girls.  She just made appointments for all
of them with the doctor, and instructed him to prescribe birth control
pills for all of them.

   He didn't bat an eye, as he handed her six prescriptions.

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

   On Pearl Harbor day, a day which Christy had adopted as having
particular significance for military spouses, she lay with Bobby, in her
bed.  Once again, he had taken her to heights she was fast becoming
accustomed to, and she felt the warm spend in her belly that he had left
there moments before.

   "How come you never got drafted?" she asked, suddenly, fear replacing
the warm feeling in her stomach.  If Bobby disappeared from her life, she
thought she'd go mad.

   "I'm a sole surviving son," he said.  "They don't want me."

   The fear evaporated, and she tried to regain the feeling of being
pleasantly full of his spunk.  She couldn't.

   She scooted down to take him into her mouth, sucking lovingly.

   "Again?" he sighed.

   "Please?" she begged.

   He laughed, and went to work on her.  They had come up with a schedule
for him.  Jill got a day, and then Christy got a day.  Things were a lot
less formal, and, if he was watching TV with them, things sometimes didn't
make it to the bedroom.  Neither woman cared, any more.  Both got what they
wanted, and they got it almost as often as they wanted it.

   As she rested again, with the feeling back, another errant thought
entered her mind.

   "Richard will be home soon," she said.  "Maybe by Christmas."

   "That's good," he said.

   "I hope so," she responded.

   "I hope so too," he said, squeezing her.

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

   Mirriam battled with herself about what to do about Bobby and his
sisters.  They were on the pill, now, which was, at least in theory, a
precaution, in case things went too far.  She frowned, as she thought about
that.  Things had already gone too far.  But, just like Pandora's Box,
which couldn't be closed, she knew very well that forbidding anything in
the future would be fruitless.  She trusted Bobby to obey any such
restrictions, but not the girls.  If they couldn't get what they wanted
from him, they'd just go somewhere else.  Bev was dating only Bill, now,
and had turned down six other offers.  Flo still wasn't dating at all. 
Linda wanted to go out, but Mirriam's rule had always been that no dates
were allowed, un-chaperoned, until the girls were seniors.  That meant, to
the girls, that dating started at the end of their junior year.

   That would be at the end of this school year for Linda, who appeared to
be the youngest sister involved.

   Technically, Flo was an adult.  She was out of school.  Bev would
graduate this year, and had turned eighteen last August.  Both of them were
capable of making their own decisions, even if the decision to take up with
Bobby was a foolish one, in their mother's estimation.

   Her reverie was interrupted by someone at the door.  It was Christy, the
young woman who had taken their portraits.  Mirriam smiled at her, and
welcomed her in, offering her coffee and cake.

   "No thank you," said Christy, smiling.  "I just brought out the
portraits.  I finished them last night." She opened a flat case she'd
brought with her, and began laying them out on the kitchen table.  "I hope
you don't mind," she said as she arranged them.  "I chose the ones to blow
up that I thought looked the best."

   Mirriam stared at her family, displayed on the table, in living color.
They took her breath away.  Christy, whether on purpose, or not, had
selected all the pictures in which anyone was looking at Bobby, and in
every one, there was adoration in the eyes of the women.  Mirriam stared at
the one of her, looking over her shoulder at him.  Her love was as plain as
if it had been written in big, black letters.

   She looked at the ones where the girls were looking at him.  In all of
them, it was plain that there was heartfelt emotion in the girls, for this
tall, handsome man in their midst.

   The one where the twins were sitting on his legs, at an angle to the
camera, with him in the middle, his arm draped carelessly around their
waists, made her very glad that she'd put them on the pill.

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

   During the winter break from school, there was more time to spend with
family members.  Games were played.  Television was watched.  Snowball
fights were had, and puzzles were assembled.  Girls who, when they were
summarily put on birth control pills by their stern-faced mother, which had
naturally interrupted the routine, one by one began to visit Bobby again,
to kiss him good night.

   Linda was the first, oddly enough, to sneak into his room.  She was
cold, and she wanted to snuggle.  His warm hands were soon drifting all
over her body, and she welcomed his touch, glad that they were alone, and
she could do what she wanted, without having to do it in front of Flo and
Bev.  She wanted to suck him, and he taught her about how she could do that
and receive oral attention at the same time.  When he spurted, she drank
him down, and had to be chased out to her own room.  She gave no thought to
why her mother had put her on the pill.  She knew why, and was glad.  She
wasn't ready quite yet ...  but she was thinking about it.

   Flo was next, which surprised Bobby.  He had expected her to stay away,
maybe permanently.  Her talk with her mother had, in fact, resulted in her
decision to do just that.  After talking to her mother, and hearing her
mother's explanation for letting Bobby make love to her, she had wanted to
feel him deep inside her even more.  Pure stubbornness made her decide not
to do that.  She lasted three weeks, until Bobby gave her a ring for
Christmas.  It was an oval opal, surrounded by alternating diamonds and
rubies, set in real gold.  It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
She put it on a different finger each day, staring at it for minutes at a
time.

   On the night when she couldn't stay away any longer, she put it on her
ring finger, where some women wore an engagement or wedding ring.

   That night, when she went to him, she didn't say a word.  She dropped
her nightgown on the floor, and slid in next to him, unsurprised that he
was naked, and already hard.  When he tried to speak, she put her fingers
over his lips, and kissed him.  It took a few minutes, but finally she made
him understand that she wanted to be under him, with him between her legs.
She was gasping for breath, when she reached for his long, hard penis, and
brought it to probe, rub and dip between her pussy lips.

   He let her do that, while he made her crazy, sucking her nipples, and
kissing her over and over again, until her hands went to his hips and
pulled.

   He let his weight down, just a little ...  enough to cause a sharp
intake of breath, as she was spread by the head.  He stopped there, and she
moaned.

   "Oh Bobby, please don't stop.  I'm scared to death as it is."

   "I love you," he whispered, kissing her again.

   Then, to her horror, he pushed himself away.  She watched, confused, as
he grasped his prick and jerked on it.  Fascinated, she watched the first
spurt streak straight to her open pussy lips, as he brought the tip back
there and plugged it in.  Then, made slippery by his spend, he pushed, and
smothered her cry with his lips sealed over hers.

   It wasn't as bad as she was sure it would be.  By the time he was all
the way in her, he had finished spurting, and had already lost much of the
rock hard feeling that had been there in her hand.  She felt stretched, but
her pussy muscles were able to fight back, and squeeze his less than hard
prick.  For the first time, though, as she felt the hot, wet spurts inside
her, she realized that the orgasm to end all orgasms was about to overtake
her.

   "Oh Bobby!" she gasped, burying her face in his chest.  "Oh yes!"

   Her cry of joy was muffled by his chest, but he still expected the door
to burst open.  He hoped that the rushing sound of air from the furnace had
masked her wail, and ground the base of his prick against her clitty, to
extend her orgasm.

   She refused to leave.  She said she didn't care of the whole family
walked in.  She was staying, and that was that.

   And she did, spending her second night, sleeping naked with her big
brother.  This time, though, she was wakened in the night.  She went to bed
a virgin, but woke as a woman, three times over.

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

   Bev did not return to Bobby's bed until January, which takes place in
the next story in this series.  That was because, on Christmas Eve, Bill
Gregory asked her to marry him.  She was thunderstruck by his proposal. 
She had known he was serious about her, and she felt pretty serious about
him too, but she had a whole semester of school left, and she suddenly felt
much too young to be thinking about marriage.  His puppy dog look made her
ache, and it also made her say "Yes ...  I think..."

   Her less than enthusiastic response left things a little flat.  She
apologized, and explained how she felt, which made things better.

   "I didn't plan on getting married until sometime in the summer," he
said. "Maybe later, even.  I've got a job lined up, but we'll have to find
a place to live.  I'm not trying to get you to rush into anything."

   That made her answer a firmer "yes", with the provision that she had to
talk to her mother about it before it became an absolute "YES".

   That was fine with Bill.

   Bev, for her part, knew that she couldn't go talk to Bobby, because if
she did, she'd end up getting fucked.  She'd been hinting to him that she
wanted to be "almost fucked" for most of a month now.  He wouldn't do it,
but she was sure that, if she slid on him just right, he wouldn't be able
to stop her.  Now, she thought about saving herself for Bill.  She knew,
though, that if she got on top of Bobby, she wouldn't be able to control
her own desires, so she stayed away.

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

   There was one other thing that happened, that December of 1971. 
Corporal Richard Brown came home for mid-tour leave.  He glossed over the
fact that he was a Corporal, instead of a Sergeant, bluffing, and telling
his wife that it was just a different kind of Sergeant.

   He'd lost a grade in rank because of an unfortunate incident, in which a
Vietnamese merchant made big waves about the fact that his thirteen year
old daughter was pregnant, after he caught Sergeant Brown in the act of
making her that way.  The bust in rank had been for "adultery".  The irate
father was told to go take a hike, when a blood test showed that she had
three kinds of venereal disease, and Sergeant Brown only had one of them.

   He didn't tell Christy about the VD either.  That's because he had
completed the prescribed treatment for it.  They wouldn't let him go on
mid-tour leave until he had.

   Despite his voluminous "practice", while in Southeast Asia, he wasn't
any better in bed than he'd been when he left.  Having had a loving and
sometimes tender lover herself, Christy was even more aware of just how
unsatisfying he was in her arms.  She gladly suffered through it, though,
every day for the twenty-five days he lived in her room at Jill's house.

   That's because, on the third of December, fully three weeks before he
got home, and exercised his husbandly prerogatives with his wife, her
period failed to materialize.

   She had never missed a period in her life.  She could, and had, told
time by her body's cycle.  She had finally gotten to the doctor, and had
purchased a full month's supply of birth control pills.  That had happened
on the fifth of the month.

   She had yet to swallow one.

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

   Thus ends the sixth, in this series of stories.  Much happens in later
books, including much more about Christy Brown, and Jill Trimble, as well
as other women you've already met, and gotten to know, at least to some
degree.  There are also more people to meet.

   The End.
   
