Chapter Twenty

   In the end, it was generally agreed upon that Bob and Jennifer's
continued presence at the hospital wasn't going to produce any gain, as far
as the patients were concerned.  Life needed to go on, where it could,
while other lives would remain on hold until healing was well enough along
that they could complete it at home.

   So it was, that night, Bob and Jennifer prepared to stay their last
night in the Best Western motel.

   The mood was a little like what some people feel on a Sunday night,
knowing that the next morning the freedom of the weekend is over and they
have to go back to work.  Sometimes people overdo it, on those Sunday
nights, trying to wring as much pleasure out of the weekend as possible
before the real world takes over, or at least intrudes into their lives
again.

   Not that they overdid the sexual part of things.  That would have been
pretty difficult to do.  Jennifer had been pulling Bob between her
welcoming legs two and three times a day, not counting sleeping with him
each night.  One might have thought she had a new hobby of sorts.

   No...to explain their thought processes that night, it is helpful to
return to the example of what might be called Sunday Night Syndrome.  At
some point on Sunday night, the alarm clock is set.  Perhaps clothing for
the next day is identified, or what you're going to have for breakfast is
reflected on.  Maybe you think about what it is likely you'll have to face
when you get to work.

   In other words, you make plans.

   And so, as Jennifer crawled into bed with the man who, only a week
earlier, had been "Uncle Bob," a man she knew well and liked a lot, her
natural bent was to...make plans.

   In one sense the desire to make these plans was even stronger, by virtue
of the fact that they had, subconsciously or not, AVOIDED making plans up
to that point.  Making plans requires that you make decisions, and making
decisions requires that you face facts, and facing facts is sometimes very
painful.

   Her hand landed on his chest as she snuggled against him, and drifted
slowly toward his groin.  There seemed to be some kind of magnet down there
that drew her hand.  She loved everything about his penis, from its
differing textures to the warmth and taste.  And she loved how it made her
feel inside, too, of course.  She cut pretty much right to the chase.

   "So what ARE we going to do?" she asked.

   "We, Princess, are going to go on with life, while your parents get
better," he said.  Bob had more experience with Monday mornings and,
correspondingly, had more experience at not facing them until the last
moment.

   "That doesn't tell me anything," said Jennifer.

   "I know."

   "Tell me something," she pleaded.  "Lie to me if you must, but give me
something to hope for."

   "Women!" he snorted.  "First you tell me not to lie to you, then, a few
days later, change your mind."

   "I'm being patient, Bob," she said, squeezing his penis, "but my
patience is not going to last forever." Her hand moved to cup and gently
squeeze his balls, and the threat was clear.

   "I don't want to lie to you," he said.

   "Why CAN'T we be happy together?"

   "Who said we can't?" he asked.

   "My father, for one," she said.

   "He's just dealing with the idea that some big hairy man crawled between
his darling daughter's pristine white thighs and rutted in her like an
animal."

   "That's an awful way to describe it!" she said forcefully.

   "It's how dads imagine it," said Bob.  "I'm not a dad, but up until a
week ago, if someone had told me you weren't a virgin any more, that's
probably what I would have imagined, too.  So I think I know how he feels."
Bob squeezed her with his arm.  "It will take some time, but he'll get over
it."

   "So tell me how it will be," she said, wistfully.

   "How about you tell me how you'd dream it would be, instead," he
suggested.

   "What if you don't like my dream?" she sighed.

   "Why wouldn't I like your dream?"

   "Because it involves you."

   He squeezed her again.  "Well, just to clear the air, I find myself
somewhat attracted to you, so being part of your dream isn't all that
scary."

   She squeezed what was now a partial erection.  "I can tell," she
giggled.

   "So tell me about your dream," he said.

   She lay there quiet, long enough that he was afraid she wasn't going to
answer.

   "Don't laugh," she said, to preface her next words.  "But something you
said today kind of got me thinking." He encouraged her with his silence to
keep talking.  "It was when you said you dream things up--bike designs--and
then the guys have to make it work." She moved, like she was trying to get
more comfortable.  "I was thinking you need an engineer...somebody who
could help design things so that they would work the first time you tried."

   "So far all you're talking about is me," said Bob.  "This is YOUR
dream...right?"

   "Yes.  Are you going to let me tell you or not?"

   He was silent again.  She wiggled a little more, rubbing her breasts
against his ribs.  Her hand stroked up and down his penis once, and then
she just held it.

   "So now I can go to college, right?  And I like knowing how things work.
I have lots of fun when you let me help you fix something.  So I was
thinking...maybe I could go to college and learn how to be an engineer."

   "You want to work for me?" He found the idea simply ludicrous, primarily
because his natural vision of her in that situation was mixed in with the
boys.  Thinking of her as one of the guys was almost impossible.

   "No," she said softly.  "I want to work WITH you, while I live WITH
you."

   Quite suddenly, an idea that had looked simply weird took on a different
appearance, like color seeping into a black and white photograph.

   "That's a beautiful dream," he whispered.

   "So can we do it?" Her voice held excitement.

   "I thought this was just a dream," he said, feeling like he'd been
ambushed.

   "Dreams can come true," she urged.

   "Hang on," he said.  "I'm not trying to be the bad guy here, but I can
see at least one problem.  College is at least four years."

   "True."

   "That's it?  Just 'true'?"

   "It's going to be four years no matter what my major is, no matter where
I live," she said.

   "True," he said automatically.

   "See?  I told you so," she giggled.

   "Hmmmm."

   "What does that mean?"

   "Well, I was just thinking about your parents.  If you were going to
college, say at Georgia State, there in Atlanta, I could rent you a room
and keep an eye on you."

   "WHAT?!"

   "I mean from their perspective, of course," he said.

   "Bob, they know what we're doing," she said, sounding slightly
disgusted.

   "Yes, but we don't want to rub it in their faces."

   Her relief produced tingles.  "Right now I want to rub it in YOUR face,"
she said, jacking his cock more forcefully.

   After taking a break to rub it in his face...and then get it filled with
his straining erection...and a dose of semen...they ended up back in the
same position, with her cradled in his left arm.  She wasn't holding his
penis this time.  Instead she played with his chest hair with her
fingertips.

   "Where were we?" she panted.  "Oh yes.  You were telling me I could live
with you while I go to college and that you'd make love to me as often as I
wanted you to."

   "I said that?" He grinned.

   "I knew what you meant." Her voice changed, becoming more serious. 
"Couldn't I have that dream?"

   "I don't know, sweetie," he sighed.

   "You probably don't want me hanging around all the time," she said. 
"You couldn't pick up women on the Babe Bike and bring them home."

   "Why not?" he asked, grinning again.  "I have a two bedroom place."

   He had to pin her under him, holding her wrists above her head, to keep
her from scratching or kicking him.

   "Suck my nipples!" she panted.

   "I might NOT want you hanging around all the time if you're going to
boss me around," he teased.

   "Suck my nipples!" she demanded again.

   Ten minutes later she asked if he was hard again yet.  When he said he
wasn't she called him old and worthless, and said that if she lived with
him in Atlanta she'd probably have to let all the other guys in the shop
fuck her too, because he was too old and worthless.  To her immense
satisfaction, his jealousy was proven and she found herself folded up,
gleefully trying to breathe while he pounded her with a new erection.

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

   The ride home was uneventful, at least by comparison to the trip they
were returning from.  So much had changed in just a week that even though
they drove the same route back, it seemed like a whole new world to them.
There were, of course, landmarks along the way that were now etched in
Jennifer's mind like mile markers along the road of her life.  They passed
by the truck stop, where the waitress and cook had thought she was a
runaway, being taken advantage of by a biker dude.  And she saw the Drop
Inn, where for the first time she had slept in Bob's arms, in the same bed.

   And, of course, there was the clitty whizzer.

   She was a veteran now and had somehow developed the muscles needed to
lessen the whizzer's devastating impact, or at least mitigate it a bit. 
Not that she wanted to.  Now she welcomed the feel of constant arousal and
an orgasm whenever she felt like it.  She had a lot of orgasms.

   But she did a lot of crying, too.

   Each mile brought her closer to home and closer to when she'd have to
stand on the porch and watch Bob ride away.  
