Foreword This is the fifth 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 - Jill Trimble by Lubrican

   1971, February

   Life was interesting in the Dalton house, mostly because the first of
Bobby Dalton's seven sisters was getting married.  Since it was the first
wedding in the family, the uproar was four or five times as ridiculous as
it might be when, say Susie, who was his fourteen-year-old sister, got to
that point.  By then, there would likely have been three or four weddings
in the family, which was comprised of seven girls, Bobby, and their mother.

   Bobby wasn't involved in the wedding plans, except that he'd be walking
Mary down the aisle, since she had no father to do that.  She insisted on
that.  He was much more involved with what would take place after the
ceremony ...  on the honeymoon.  Mary was using her brother to practice on,
so that her wedding night would be glorious, instead of frightening, or
uncomfortable.

   Mary was still a virgin, technically.  She'd practiced everything else
with Bobby, but actual intercourse, she had not done.  She'd gotten rid of
her troublesome hymen, by use of Bobby's thick finger, but that was all.

   With all the uproar, while all the women in the family were fully
occupied with wedding plans, Bobby made sure he spent as much time away
from the farm as he could, while still getting his chores done.  Mamma had
finally decided, a few months past, that she could make as much money
renting the tillable land, as they could if they farmed it themselves, if
she took a part time job in town.  Glen Beesum, at the feed mill, had been
looking for a bookkeeper, but couldn't find one, because it was a part time
job.  She had taken that job.  It suited everybody, because now she had
time to plan the wedding and Bobby was free to expand his handyman business
...  and the perks that went with it.

   Bobby had, to this point in time, done work for a dozen people in town,
among them four particular women.  That work, odd as it may be, turned out
to include making all four of them pregnant.

   The first, Tilly Johnson, was raising his three year old son, David. 
Bobby was a frequent visitor to the Johnson house, where he interacted with
David, while Tilly and Jake spent time alone in the bedroom.  It was
babysitting, of a sort, but it was intended for him to be able to bond with
his son.  Jake would always play the role of David's father, but they still
wanted the man who had improved their lives to be able to spend time with
the baby he gave them.

   Such was the case on June the ninth, which was David's birthday.  He was
only three, so the celebration had been simple.  Tilly and Jake left David
with Bobby, so he could spend some one on one time with him, while they
went and spent some one on one time with each other.

   Eventually, Tilly padded out of the bedroom, dressed only in a loosely
tied and thin robe, and took her son from Bobby's lap, where they had been
playing patty-cake.  The little boy's hand grabbed at her breast.

   "No you don't, buster," she laughed.  "I weaned you ages ago.  You men
are all alike!"

   "We can't help it, when a beautiful woman is around," said Bobby,
feeling his penis react to the fact that he could see one nipple through
the gap in her robe.  He hadn't had sex with Tilly in two years.  Her rule
had always been that Bobby could only provide for her what Jake could not.
Since they had found out that Jake could maintain an erection, her legs had
been closed to Bobby.  That didn't mean she was modest around him.  He had
spent literally hours with her in bed, and that kind of closeness doesn't
lend itself to false modesty, even if they were no longer lovers.

   Jake could not, however, get her pregnant.

   "Bobby?" said Tilly, looking down at him.

   "Yes?" he responded.

   "Jake and I want another baby."

   "Is that so?" asked Bobby, his prick stiffening even more.

   "You want to help us again?" she asked.

   "Yes, Ma'am," he said.

   "I'm not going to act like a harlot, like last time," she said.  Bobby
noticed that her exposed nipple had erected.  "I'm only going to let you
make love to me when I'm fertile."

   "I can live with that," he said.

   "Be right back," she said.  "I need to go give David to Jake."

   When she came back, she stood in front of Bobby again.  "I'm fertile
right now, Bobby."

   He took her right there on the couch.

   She got up, holding his sperm in her with her fingers clamping her pussy
lips closed.

   "I said I wasn't going to act like a harlot," she said, standing in
front of him, naked.  "That doesn't mean I want to be treated like some
High School girl, sneaking sex on her parents' couch."

   She took him to the spare bedroom, where they had conceived David, and
had him make love to her in what she called "a more appropriate fashion."

   She had him visit every day, the rest of the week.  Lying there, full of
his sperm, she stroked his face one last time.

   "If it didn't work this month, I'll call you next month," she said.

   "OK," he smiled.

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

   Two days later, Bobby's prick was sliding in and out of a different
woman, whose belly was already swollen with his baby, making it a little
difficult to treat her as she had become accustomed to being treated by
him.

   "I'm getting fat!" moaned Prudence.

   "You're supposed to," he said, tugging at her swollen nipples.

   "If I get any fatter, we won't be able to do this," she moaned.

   "Want to learn a new way?" he asked.

   "What new way?" she asked.

   "You get on top," he said.

   "Women don't get on top!" she snorted.

   "Yes ...  they do," said Bobby, who knew very well that women got on
top.

   Prudence found that she loved being on top, once she got over the
feeling of embarrassment of sitting up naked.  Her breasts had filled out
already, and were embarrassingly big, to her mind.

   "The 4th of July dance is coming up," she said, riding him hard.

   "I know," he said, watching her breasts jiggle and wobble.

   "I've never gone to any of the dances, since Harry died," she said.  "I
want to go to this one.  Will you dance with me, if I do?"

   "Yes, I will," he said.

   "Everybody in town is gossiping about my belly," she moaned.  "If you
dance with me, they'll gossip about you too."

   "I don't care," he said.  "I don't mind if you tell them I did it."

   "You're joking!" she gasped, grinding her clit on his pubic bone.

   He stroked her belly, now five months along.

   "I'm proud of my baby," he said.

   "We'll see," she said.  "I don't want to go, if nobody dances with me,
though."

   "I'll make it look like a charity dance," he said.  "Will that do?"

   She laughed out loud.  "Yes, that will do nicely."

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

   The 4th of July picnic and dance was, as usual, a raucous affair.  The
kids all brought firecrackers, and other fireworks, but were restricted to
setting them off only in one corner of the town square.  The picnic tables
were set up at the other end of the square, and the bandstand, a huge
gazebo, was in the middle.  Park benches, and tables with folding chairs,
scattered all around the square, gave people places to sit and talk.

   As usual, the picnic area evolved into two basic groups.  Mirriam
Dalton, and the dozen or so other women who had ended up in the arms of
Joe, a Hobo kind of man who hung around town during the Korean War, formed
one.  They had been traditionally ostracized by the more virtuous women in
town, who loved to gossip about them.  All the children played together,
but the womenfolk stayed apart.

   That tradition, however, was being stretched a little.  Fred Brogan was
engaged to be married to one of the "war babies" as Joe's progeny were
called, in satirical whispers.  Jenny Brogan, his mother, had fought the
idea, until she actually met, and got to know Mary Dalton who she found, to
her surprise, was a delightful girl.  In the process of wedding planning,
she had gotten to know Mirriam Dalton too, and had been even more
pleasantly surprised to find she liked the woman she had gossiped about so
often, with her friends.

   Others gravitated toward the table that the Dalton's inhabited that
night, too.  Tilly Johnson, pushing Jake in his wheel chair, their son on
his lap, joined them for a while, and stayed there, with Fred, Mary and
Mirriam.  Three year old David toddled around, making friends, among them
Mirriam's other daughters, who also scampered around shooting off
firecrackers, or gathered in groups of their friends.  Some of those groups
- the older ones - included boys.

   Martha and Arthur Thompson wandered by and stopped.  They had been
making the rounds, so that didn't seem odd, other than the fact that they
hadn't done that in years past.  Martha's one year old, Andrew, was in her
arms.

   Sherry and Sam Winston also stopped by, with their one year old
daughter, Jessica, but stayed only long enough to be sociable.

   Tongues wagged, when Prudence Harris got there.  She was visibly
pregnant, and had been a widow for as long as most people could remember.
The employees at the bank had gossiped about her pregnant state, unable to
hazard a guess as to who the father was.  Most of them joked that it had to
be an immaculate conception, since she was never known to have socialized.
She never came to the town gatherings either, which was one reason so many
people noticed her.

   This, however, was a different Prudence Harris than most people in the
town square had ever seen.  Her maternity dress was a riot of colors, with
a rainbow spread over that swollen abdomen, and clouds where her breasts
were.  Her legs had trees, and grass with babies playing on it.  It was
obvious she felt no shame, and tongues wagged excitedly.

   They wagged even more excitedly as she was welcomed by the women who had
born "war babies".  Why anyone was surprised that she'd gravitate to that
group was strange.  If anyone would have thought about it, they'd have
realized that those women probably knew how Prudence felt, and that they
probably didn't care who had put that baby inside her.

   Mirriam, knowing that Bobby had worked for all of these women, and
suspecting he was involved in the parentage of all those babies, bit her
lip and made sure she was polite to everyone.  When Prudence Harris asked
if she could join her, she patted the bench beside her.

   "I have no idea when all the girls will show up to eat," she said.  "But
you're welcome to sit here.  They can fend for themselves."

   "You're very kind," said Prudence.  "I wanted to apologize for snubbing
you all these years."

   "Nonsense," snorted Mirriam.  "We weren't the best of friends in
school."

   "I know, but I thought badly of you.  It was wrong.  It only took twenty
years for me to grow up.  I just wanted to say I don't think badly of you
now, and I'm sorry that I ever did."

   "Thank you," said Mirriam, with dignity.  She couldn't help glancing at
Prudence's pregnant belly.

   "Are you doing all right?" she asked.

   "Am I happy that this happened?" said Prudence, cutting through the
polite chatter.  "Actually, I'm very happy."

   "Really!" said Mirriam, entranced.

   "The father of this little thing inside me is a wonderful man," Prudence
said.

   "Are you going to marry him?" asked Mirriam, holding her breath.

   "No," said Prudence.  "If I were ten years younger, I might think about
it, but it wouldn't work out.  I had trouble enough with one husband.  I
don't think I want another."

   "That's a very enlightened way of looking at it," said Mirriam.  "This
man ...  the father ...  he must be very special indeed ...  unless, of
course ..." She didn't finish.

   "Unless it was an accident?" Prudence smiled.  "Some accidents turn out
to be the best thing that could happen to you, don't you think?"

   "I'm very relieved that you feel that way," admitted Mirriam, now sure
that Bobby was the father of the baby in Prudence's womb.

   "I'd like to be friends," said Prudence.  "Do you think we could do
that?"

   "I'd love nothing more," said Mirriam, smiling.

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

   The girls came, played with David, stared at Prudence, ate, and then
went off to be with their friends, as Mirriam and Prudence got
reacquainted. It got dark, and the end of the square was lit up with night
time fireworks.  The town show wasn't due to start for another two hours.
Experience had shown that people liked to dance first, and then sit back
and be awed by the big boomers, up in the sky.  There were four bands, each
scheduled to play for half an hour.  The first was a country band, by
tradition.

   Mirriam and Prudence were still talking, when a shadow fell over them.
They looked up to see a man, standing between them and the bandstand.  He
was looking at Mirriam.

   "Care to dance, Ma'am?" he asked.

   Mirriam stared up at him, surprised beyond measure.  No man had ever
asked her to dance at a town get-together since she'd had her third
daughter.  That was in 1953, over fifteen years ago.

   "I've plum forgotten how to dance," she blurted.

   "I'm no Fred Astaire, either," said the man, smiling.

   Mirriam looked at Prudence, who was grinning.

   "Go on!" encouraged her new friend.

   She got up, and, rather than trying to remember, just started swaying
with the music.  He did basically the same thing, holding her hand and
swinging back from her, in an arc, and then coming forward.  He twirled her
a little awkwardly.  The music had been going on when he invited her, and
by the time they got on the dance area, only half the song was left.  He
walked her back to her seat, as another song started.

   "How about you?" he asked, looking at Prudence.  "If your husband won't
mind," he said, looking at her left hand, where she still wore her wedding
rings.  Her pregnancy was hidden by the table.

   "I'm not married," said Prudence, her voice level.  My husband died a
while back.

   "I'm sorry to hear that," said the man.  "Do you think he'd object to a
dance?"

   "He would object most strenuously," said Prudence, who now thought about
her husband much differently than she would have a year ago.  "But he's not
here." Her hands went to her bulging belly, almost subconsciously.  "Still,
I'd feel silly dancing."

   "Oh please," begged the man.  "Just one dance?"

   It was a repeat of the earlier incident, except that this time it was
Prudence who looked at Mirriam, and Mirriam who grinned and said, "Go on!"

   "Oh, all right," said Prudence.

   "Excellent!" said the man, smiling.

   She stood, and revealed her pregnant status, waiting to see what his
reaction would be.

   "Most excellent, indeed," he said, his smile never wavering.

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

   "This is embarrassing," admitted Prudence, as they started doing the
same thing he had done with Mirriam.

   "It's just for fun," he said, over the music.  "Who cares what it looks
like, as long as we have a little fun?"

   "You're not from around here, are you?" asked Prudence.

   "Just moved to town," he said.  "Going to teach school next year."

   "Well welcome, stranger!" said Prudence, understanding why he had
mistakenly thought she and Mirriam were normal women.  "I have to tell you,
though, you've probably ruined your reputation already by dancing with me."

   "I know," he called out, grinning.

   The song ended before he could say more, and he walked back with her to
Mirriam.

   "How do you know?" she asked him, as she sat down.

   "How do I know what?" asked Mirriam.

   "Not you," said Prudence.  "Him."

   "How does he know what?" asked Mirriam, looking confused.

   "This is ...  "

   "Ted," said the man, smiling.  "Ted Brandywine, formerly of St.  Louis,
Missouri, and currently a new resident of Granger, where the air smells
better, and the women are prettier."

   "Don't you have a silver tongue," said Mirriam.

   "I told him he'd probably already ruined his reputation by dancing with
us," said Prudence.

   "Both of you?" Ted's face showed much more shock than his eyes did.

   "He said he knew that," said Prudence, ignoring him.

   "How do you know?" asked Mirriam.

   "That's what I was asking him," complained Prudence.

   "It's a simple thing," said Ted.  "I hung around and watched everybody.
I'm from the big city, and a people watcher from way back, so I've learned
a lot about how people act.  I saw who was gossiping, and who they were
staring daggers at while they were doing it.  A number of you ladies over
here seemed to be frowned at the most, so I decided to ask you all to
dance."

   "All of us?" asked Mirriam.

   "Well, that was my original intent," said Ted.  "However, after sampling
two of you, I can already tell I have my hands full, so you two will do."

   "You're quite bold!" said Mirriam, frowning.

   "I'm just a fun-loving guy," said the man.  "I was married to a woman
who was more stiff and proper than Grandma McGillicuty at a nudist retreat.
When she divorced me, I came west to start a new life.  I decided that the
interesting women were probably going to be the ones that all the stuffy,
proper ones were talking about." He grinned.  "I'm testing that theory
right now."

   "And why, exactly, did your wife divorce you?" asked Mirriam.

   "Very direct," commented Ted.  "I like that.  I hate beating around the
bush." He sat down.  "I told her I wanted children, one too many times."

   "How many times did you tell her that?" asked Prudence, intrigued
despite herself.

   "Oh, I guess three or four times a week," he said.  "At least lately. 
It was probably more than that in years past." He smiled.  "We'd been
married ten years."

   "You were married for ten years, and didn't have any children?!" Mirriam
was clearly curious.

   "She was of the opinion that babies are both loud, and messy, neither of
which she tolerated in the house," he said.  "I admit I badgered her a
bit."

   "Still, that's no grounds for divorce," said Prudence.

   "Are you kidding?" he said.  "When she said she wanted a divorce, I
agreed so fast it made her head spin.  Irreconcilable differences, is what
they called it.  I should have gotten out years ago.  I'm thirty-two.  The
best years of my life are gone!"

   "Nonsense!" said Mirriam.  "But you're a little young for the likes of
us." She jumped, as she realized what she'd said, and blushed.  "Not that
we're interested," she added.  When she realized how that sounded, she put
her elbow on the table, and dropped her head into her open hand.

   "You have her all flustered," said Prudence, grinning.

   The band changed, and a traditional rock and roll group started playing.


   "Now THAT kind of music I can dance to!" said Ted.  "How about it?" he
asked, his eyes going from Prudence, to Mirriam, who still had her head in
her hand, and back again.

   "I might go into labor, jiggling around like that," said Prudence, "but
I'll dance with you."

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

   Bobby was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree, just watching
people.  It was fairly dark where he was, and, while people walked by, they
were usually couples, who paid him no attention.

   He got up to go get a piece of watermelon, and got in line.  He was
almost up to where Horace Grimsly, the owner of the grocery store was,
smiling and handing out thick red slices, when he felt a tap on his
shoulder.  He turned around to see a woman he had seen around town, but
didn't know much about.  She was shorter than he was, and older too, though
she still had the look of healthy youth about her.  He controlled his eyes,
and looked at her face.

   "You're Bobby, right?" she said, her voice light and high pitched.

   "Yes, Ma'am," he said.

   "Oh please!" she groaned.  "If another man calls me Ma'am I think I'll
just curl up and die!  It makes me feel old!"

   "OK ...  Miss," said Bobby, smiling.

   "That's not much better," she said.  "Never mind.  You're the one that
fixes things ...  right?"

   "Yes Ma...." Bobby stopped.  "What should I call you?"

   "Jill," she said instantly.  "I'm sorry.  I'm Jill Trimble."

   That rang a bell in Bobby's head.  He'd been in High School after her,
but her picture, and that of the boy she married had still been on the
wall. She was the homecoming queen from 1961.  She was also the head
cheerleader in that year, when the Granger Harvesters took State, to the
unending surprise of just about everyone.  They'd never done it again,
since then, which was why all the pictures of kids from that year were
still up on the walls to document the school's fleeting, but proud
accomplishment in history.

   Bobby had stared at that picture, as a senior.  Jill - her last name was
different in the picture - was, at that time, his idea of the perfect girl.
Of course she'd been gone for four years, by then.  She'd married the
homecoming king, who had tried to go on to a career in college football,
but didn't do so well, and came back home to sell insurance.

   That much Bobby knew, but he'd never actually met, or talked to the
woman whose picture had fascinated him so.

   "I saw your picture in the trophy case at school," said Bobby.

   "THAT thing?" She laughed.  "I wish they'd get rid of that.  It's
embarrassing."

   "I liked it," said Bobby.

   "Well, thank you," she said.  They were holding up the line, and
reached, at the same time, for plates that Horace was trying to give them.
They walked away together.

   "Anyway," she said.  "I have a washing machine that's on the blink.  Can
you fix a washing machine?"

   "Don't know," he said, honestly.  "I never tried."

   "Well one of my friends ...  one of my EX friends ...  told me you can
fix anything."

   "Your EX friend?" he asked.

   "I got divorced, three months ago.  None of my friends will speak to me
anymore." She didn't look all that sad about it.

   "That's too bad," he said.  "But if they won't speak to you, how did you
have a conversation with one about me?"

   "Oh, that," she said.  "My washer's been broken for two weeks, though
she wasn't modest around him.  I was pulling my hair out, and called her to
see if her husband might know how to fix it.  She said he couldn't fix
anything, and that you'd done some work for them."

   "Sounds like she was friendly enough," commented Bobby.

   "Mark - he was my husband - told everybody that I was running around on
him.  It wasn't that way at all.  HE'S the one I caught necking with Nancy
Vickers in the alley behind our house.  I went out to empty the garbage,
and there they were, half naked!" She sighed.  "Nobody believes a woman,
though, and all my former friends think I'm after their husbands.  Men get
all the respect.  I hate men!"

   "I'm sorry," said Bobby.  "I don't know any women who repair things."

   She looked at him and frowned.  "I didn't mean you.  You're just a boy."

   "I just turned twenty-three," he said.

   "Really?" Her eyebrows rose.  "I thought Linda said you were just out of
High School."

   "Linda Williams?" asked Bobby.  He had done some work for her the same
year Tilly Johnson was getting pregnant with his baby.

   "Yes, that's her," said Jill.

   "That's been, like, four years ago," he said.

   "Oh," she looked startled.  "Well, she certainly remembered you.  She
sang your praises ... claimed you were a wizard with tools, so I thought
I'd ask you.  I called a real repairman, but they want something like
thirty dollars just to come to the house!"

   "I can take a look at it, if you want me to," said Bobby.  "I don't
charge anything unless I actually fix what's broken."

   "Perfect!" chirped Jill.

   She told him her address, and asked if he could come the next day.

   "That's the 4th of July," he said.

   "Oh!  I guess it is!" she said.  "I'm sorry.  I just have piles of
clothes everywhere.  Pretty soon I'm going to run out of things to wear."

   Bobby took the chance, while she was delicately putting a piece of
watermelon in her mouth, to glance at her body.  It was the same body he
had pined over, in that picture.  She had blond hair, up in a pony tail,
just like in the picture.  Jeans clung to her hips tightly, and the man's
shirt she was wearing did nothing to camouflage generous breasts under it.
The thought of her having to go naked was appealing.  His eyes were back on
her face, when she looked up from her fingers.

   "I could come around in the morning," he said.  "I'm not doing all that
much anyway, until later.  We're having a big family picnic in the
afternoon."

   "Oh THANK you!" she moaned.  "You're so sweet to do this on a holiday."

   "OK," he said.  "I'll see you then."

   She started away, and then stopped.

   "Would you mind if I just stayed here, and talked to you?" she asked. 
"Nobody seems to want to have a divorced woman hanging around.  It's
nineteen seventy-one, for Pete's sake!  You'd think people would get used
to the idea that marriages don't always last."

   "I don't mind," said Bobby.  "Just so you know, though, that bunch of
women over there," he pointed with his plastic fork.  "See the woman in the
blue dress, and the pregnant woman next to her with her hair in a bun?"

   "Yes," said Jill, peering through the darkness.

   "They won't care if you're divorced or not, nor the others sitting at
the tables next to them."

   "But they're the war baby mothers!" she chirped.  "Everybody knows
that."

   "The one in the blue dress is MY mother," said Bobby.

   Jill blanched, and then looked down.

   "I'm sorry," she said.  "I can't believe I just said that.  I know how
they feel, now.  I guess old habits die hard."

   "They're nice women," said Bobby.

   "Yes ...  of course they are," said Jill.  "You must think I'm
terrible."

   "I don't care if you're divorced either," said Bobby.

   Her eyes darted to his, and narrowed.

   "Don't think that just because I'm divorced that ..." She bit her lip.

   "That what?" asked Bobby.

   "Men seem to think that all divorced women want to do is ...  have sex,"
she said, her face darkening.

   "Surely not all men," said Bobby.

   "It's only been three months!" she said.  "Men keep hitting on me all
the time.  A lot of them are MARRIED, for Pete's sake!  Two of them are
married to women who used to be my FRIENDS!"

   "Well, as a man, I won't defend my brothers," said Bobby, grinning.  "We
men have a tendency to be pigs, which I freely admit.  Some of us, though,
are a little better mannered than others.  I wouldn't give up on all men
just yet."

   "I don't' know," she said.  "I think I've had enough of men for a
while."

   "Well, then, I promise to be on my best behavior, tomorrow."

   "I hope so," she said, uncertain now.  She was feeling a little silly
for having gushed out her feelings, and insecurities to this boy ...  man
...  that she'd just met.  "Maybe I'll go introduce myself to your mother.
She'll know if you're a gentleman or not."

   Bobby laughed, thinking about the last time he'd told his mother that he
wanted to have sex with her.  He had no idea how she'd react, if this good
looking woman approached her and asked about him.  He decided it didn't
matter.  If he could fix her washer, he would.  Nothing else had to happen.

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

   Mary writhed against Fred, between two farm trucks that gave them a
little privacy from the crowd at the square.  She couldn't wait to get
married.  Fred's hands were now familiar with most of her body, and the
thought of lying naked with him, all night long, and doing whatever she
wanted to was making her crazy.

   "You want to go to my parent's house?" he panted.

   "No," she moaned.  "You know what almost happened the last time we were
alone there."

   "We're going to get married in a week, honey," he whined.

   "And we're going to wait until the honeymoon!" she said, much more
firmly than she felt.  "It's going to be so special for us, Freddy."

   "I know," he moaned.  "But I'm in pain here."

   Mary had been rubbing her loins against his hard-on, and knew it was
there.  She had never touched it, other than to let her fingertips drift
across it outside his clothes.  She had to maintain a certain decorum.  He,
on the other hand, had given her several wonderful orgasms with his
fingers.

   "I can do something for you," she said.  "I mean I'll do something for
you ...  to help."

   "Would you, baby?" he groaned.

   "I could ...  touch it," she whispered.

   "Oh, honey, that would be so good," he gasped.

   He reached down and she heard his zipper race down.  He bent over to
haul his penis out, into the warm night air.

   "You'll have to show me how," she whispered, not wanting him to know she
was quite accomplished at getting Bobby's penis to spurt.

   "OK, OK," he husked, excitedly.  "Just put your hand on it here, and
move it like this."

   Less than forty seconds later, strips of white were added to the dust on
the rear duals of old Mr.  Wilson's wheat truck, and Fred Brogan was no
longer in pain.

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

   After Jill left, Bobby went and watched the kids, shooting off fire
works, and then remembered his promise to dance with Prudence, and went
looking for her.  She was still where his mother had been, but his mother
wasn't around.  He walked up to Prudence.

   "May I have a dance, pretty lady?"

   She dimpled at him.  By now, the band that was on the bandstand was
playing the kinds of music that the older crowd liked, and which could be
danced to slowly.  He took her to the dance area, and pulled her to him,
pressing the belly with his child in it to his own stomach.

   "Someone else asked me to dance too," she said, obviously proud.

   "Really?" Bobby responded, sliding his hand gently over her back.

   "He's dancing with your mother right now," she said.

   She took the lead and moved, until Bobby could see over her shoulder. 
His mother was, in fact, dancing with a man who looked about the same age
as she did.

   "He's a new teacher at the school," whispered Prudence in his ear.

   "I'm glad you got to dance," he said.

   "He's a nice man," said Prudence.  "He asked Mirriam, and then he asked
me.  He danced with me even though he knows I'm not married, and pregnant!
You wouldn't believe how much better I feel for it."

   "How many times have I told you how beautiful you are," asked Bobby.

   "I know," she moaned.  "But you were usually making love to me when you
said it, and some men say that just to make sure they GET to make love."

   "Do you think I'm that way?" he asked.

   "No," she said.  "That's why I'm proud to be pregnant with your baby."

   "Proud?" he asked.

   She looked up at him, her eyes damp.

   "Yes!" she said firmly.  "Constance is delighted.  I feel better than I
have in years.  We've started a new life, unconventional though it may be,
and I owe it all to you."

   "That's silly," he said, swinging her around.  "You're not supposed to
be thankful to a man who wiggles his way into your bed and knocks you up."

   "You didn't knock me up," she said.  "You made me pregnant.  I'm going
to love this baby," she said, pressing against him.  "I already love this
baby."

   The music ended, and he held her hand, as he led her back to the table.
His mother was approaching from the other direction, her hand being held by
the new teacher.

   "Aha!" said the man.  "Competition!  Curses!" He hammed it up.

   "Mamma," said Bobby, his face straight.  "Can I have the next dance with
you?"

   "This is your son?" asked the man, his mouth dropped open.

   "I suggested that we might be too old for you," said Mirriam, smiling.

   "I don't know about that," said Ted.  "If this fine specimen is the
fruit of your loins, you are a catch indeed!"

   "Why that's positively scandalous!" gasped Mirriam.

   Ted turned to Prudence.  "And you, besides being as lovely as Mirriam
here, are obviously fecund.  What is a man to do, when confronted with two
such desirable women?"

   "Isn't he just awful?" Prudence blushed and looked at Mirriam.

   "Well, at least we know what he wants," said Mirriam, her eyes
narrowing.

   Ted held up his hands, palms out.  "Now, now, don't jump to conclusions.
All men wish to be with desirable women.  It is in our makeup.  I can,
however, control my baser urges."

   "That's good," said Mirriam.  I have eight children."

   "Eight?" he gasped.  "And you're not married?  What in the world is
WRONG with the men in this town?"

   "Most of them don't wish to be seen with social outcasts," said Mirriam,
not smiling.

   "Well," said Ted, not batting an eye.  "Their loss shall be my gain." He
blinked.  "I didn't mean that the way it sounded.  Please forgive me.  I'm
just so excited to find interesting, available women in my new town that
..." He groaned and looked at Bobby.  "That didn't come out very well
either, did it?"

   Bobby shook his head, but smiled.

   "Have I done too much damage?  Can I at least see you again ...  to try
to make up for my verbal confusion?" asked Ted.

   "Which one of us?" asked Prudence.

   Ted looked very uncomfortable.  "I sort of like you both," he admitted.
"Can't we just start out as friends?"

   "Friends don't praise the fecundity of other friends," said Mirriam,
darkly.

   "I didn't mean it like that," Ted pleaded.  "It's just that I think
motherhood should be celebrated, and honored."

   Mirriam looked at Prudence, who shrugged and said: "He seems pretty
harmless."

   Mirriam looked at Ted.  "Are you harmless?"

   Ted looked away, and then back.  He wasn't smiling.  "I'm not foolish
enough to promise something like that," he said.  "I may be screwing up any
chance I have of getting to know you better, but I'm not going to lie to
either of you.  I find you both quite attractive." He glanced at Bobby
again, to see what the man would do, when something like that had been said
about his mother.

   "Don't look at me," said Bobby.  "She's all grown up.  She has a mind of
her own."

   Mirriam snorted.  "All right, Mister Ted Brandywine, with the silver
tongue, who is remarkably truthful as to his intentions.  How about you get
to know us better ...  together?"

   "You mean ...  go out on dates ...  together?  All three of us?" asked
Ted, his eyes wide.

   "Exactly," said Mirriam, looking at Prudence again.  Again, Prudence
shrugged.

   Ted smiled and bowed.  "You have made me a very happy man, Madam," he
said.  "I can think of few things more fun than being in the presence of
two lovely lasses, and trying to show them a good time."

   Prudence giggled.  "He has a lot of self confidence, I'll say that for
him."

   They were interrupted as a group of girls approached.  Bobby recognized
three of his sisters, along with Constance Harris, and three other girls
he'd seen, but whose names he didn't know.  They were carrying slices of
watermelon, and were engaged in an impromptu seed spitting contest.

   "Girls!" barked Mirriam.  "Behave yourselves!"

   "Ohhh Mamma," groaned Suzie.  "We're just having fun!"

   "These," said Ted, somewhat weakly, "are your daughters?"

   "Only that one, that one, and Beverly, in the back," said Mirriam,
pointing.  The other girls faded back, to avoid being mistaken for her
daughters.  "The one standing by Bev is Prudence's daughter."

   Ted turned back, to stare at both women.  "When, oh when, can we start
getting to know each other better on these very strange, but very
acceptable-to-me dates?"

   Both women blushed.

   Then the fireworks started, and everybody stopped, to look up as bursts
of green, blue, red and white filled the sky, along with thundering
reports. It didn't last long - fireworks like this were expensive - but
while it lasted, there were oohs and ahhs and smiles on everyone's faces.

   When it was over, Ted sighed.

   "What a perfect welcome to my new home," he said.  "I think I'm going to
like it here a lot."

   "A week from next Saturday," said Mirriam suddenly.

   Everyone looked at her.

   "A picnic, in two weeks, on Saturday," said Mirriam, staring at Ted. 
"It can't be next Saturday, because of the wedding.  Prudence and I will
cook for the picnic.  You'll be responsible for finding an appropriate
place to have it, in the middle of July, and for entertaining us."

   Realization came into his eyes, and he grinned.  "Get your swim suits
ready, ladies.  Two weeks from tomorrow it is!"

   "Swimsuits?" gasped Prudence.  "I can't find a swim suit that will fit
this!" She cupped her bulging belly.

   "Shorts and a shirt will be fine," said Ted.  "Anything you like, to go
in the water with.  Just bring a change of clothes."

   "Where will we change?" asked Mirriam, who looked doubtful.

   "I'll pick someplace with a changing room, or bathroom," he said. 
"Leave all that to me."

   Mirriam turned to Prudence, her right eyebrow raised.  Prudence, now
that real plans were being made, was less giddy about it all.  "I guess
so," she said, her voice soft.

   "Two weeks from tomorrow!" said Mirriam, turning to Ted.  Then she moved
her eyes to Bobby.  "Go round up your sisters," she said.  "We need to be
getting home."

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

   Riding in the back of the pickup, with four sisters, was something Bobby
had done many times.  The two youngest sat up front with Mamma, who drove.
Mary was going to be delivered back to the house by Fred, who had his own
car.  Her days of curfew were over, now that she was engaged, and the
wedding was only a week away.

   He found himself sitting between Bev and Flo, all three of them leaning
against the cab.  It just seemed natural to put his arms around them.  Bev
was on his right, and he squeezed the side of her breast playfully.  She
didn't react like he thought she would, jerking and slapping at him. 
Instead, she laid her hand on his thigh, and let her fingertips slowly move
back and forth.  It was dark, when they left town, and then her hand moved
to his crotch, to squeeze there.

   Flo, on his other side, had leaned her head on his shoulder.  Linda and
Susie were sitting Indian style, in the back of the truck, their heads
close as they talked above the wind and noise of the old truck.

   It was one of those lazy summer nights, when all is right with the
world, and you just can't help but be relaxed, and happy.  Bobby's left
hand was draped carelessly over Flo's left shoulder, and a bump in the road
made it bounce against her breast.  She turned her head up towards his
face.

   "Your hand just touched my boob!" she said.

   "It felt like a nice boob," he said, turning his face toward her.

   "My big brother is a dirty old man!" she said, smiling.

   "What's the big deal?" he asked.  "I'm sure a dozen guys have felt your
boobs."

   "They have not!" she yipped.  She meant to slap him on his thigh, but
missed, and her hand landed on Bev's, which just happened, at that moment
to be squeezing the lump of his prick.  Flo leaned forward and looked down
at Bobby's lap.

   "What are you DOING?" she yipped at Bev, as Bev snatched her hand away.

   "Nothing!" said Bev.

   Flo looked back at Bobby, who hadn't reacted at all.

   "She was touching you!" she accused.

   "It was just a bump in the road," said Bobby.  "It moved her hand, like
it moved mine."

   "Don't give me that crap!" said Flo, indignantly.  She was seventeen,
and was well aware of the world of sexual things.

   "It's no big deal," said Bobby.

   "How can you say that!?" said Flo, stiffening.

   Bobby was still relatively inexperienced with women.  He remembered how
kissing Bev had solved the problem of her catching him with Mary, and, in
fact, had led to some fun.  So he may be forgiven for sticking with what
had worked before.

   Bobby's hand moved to Flo's shoulder and, before she could react, he had
leaned over to press his lips to hers.  He didn't make it a long kiss, but
his lips were soft and warm, and completely unexpected on hers.  It was
over before she could react to it.  As soon as he stopped kissing her, he
let go of her shoulder.

   She moved away from him, turning sideways, with her back to the side of
the truck bed.

   "Why did you do that?" she asked.

   "You're my sister," he said.  "I love you.  I just wanted you to know
that."

   "But you KISSED me!" she said.

   "Was it really that big of a deal?  Are you telling me you haven't
kissed a boy before?"

   "Well no, but they weren't my BROTHER!"

   "All I did was show you that I love you.  That's all Bev was doing. 
Really, it's no big deal."

   The rest of the ride was completed in silence.  Flo didn't move back to
nestle into Bobby's armpit, but Bev stayed right where she was.

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

   A very nervous Bev slipped into his room, later that night.  He had been
expecting her.

   "Is she going to say anything?" she asked.

   "I don't know," said Bobby.

   "I saw you kiss her."

   "I didn't know what else to do," he said.

   "What do we do?" she asked, shifting her feet nervously.

   "Just go to bed," he said.  "We'll see what happens in the morning.

   "OK," she said doubtfully.

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

   Bobby was asleep, when Fred dropped Mary off, and she entered the house
as quietly as she could.  She went straight to his room, which was dark. 
She was in turmoil.  She had jacked Fred off again, in the car, right out
front, and this time, she had wanted to take him in her mouth.  She
couldn't do that.  It was only the second time she'd ever touched him
there. She had also resisted letting him pet her, because she was quite
sure she wouldn't be able to make herself stop him from doing everything.

   "Bobby?" she whispered, and then moved to touch his shoulder.

   He woke quickly, almost as if he'd been waiting for her.

   "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

   "I need you," she moaned.

   "It's late," he said.

   "I know ...  but I really NEED you!" she whined.

   "OK," he said.  His prick stiffened, as he heard the rustle of her
taking her clothes off.

   When she climbed in bed with him, her need was obvious, in the way she
writhed against him, rubbing her naked flesh against him in every way she
could.  He sucked at a nipple and she whined.  When he slid a finger into
her, she arched and bit at his shoulder.

   Her hand went to his prick, and gripped it, almost painfully.

   "I need this," she moaned.

   "I thought you were saving that for Fred," he cautioned.

   "It's a whole week away," she panted.  "I'm dying, Bobby.  I got so
horny tonight I almost let him do this."

   "He's going to be your husband," said Bobby.  "Just let him."

   "I can't!" she gasped.  "I've put him off so much I can't just change
everything." She writhed against him.  "Besides, I'm burning up now! 
Pleeeease, Bobby!"

   "You can only do this one time," he said, meaning that she could only
surrender her virginity once.

   "I promise I won't ask you do to it again!" she panted, thinking that he
meant that he'd only do this with her one time.

   She was willing.  She was actually begging.  And Bobby was a man, after
all.

   He rolled to loom over her and she wiggled excitedly as, for the first
time, she spread her legs for a man to have sex with her.  She didn't know
what to do, except open her legs for him.  Unable to resist, she reached
for his hanging phallus, and gripped it.  Instinct told her where to direct
the tip, as he lowered it to her pussy lips.

   He began pushing.  She was soaked, and there was plenty of lubrication
so, as he slowly forced his way into her, he didn't stop, until his pubic
hairs intertwined with hers.  Her long groan of mixed satisfaction, at
finally being filled, and discomfort, as her flesh was forced to stretch,
made him as hard as he'd ever been in his life.

   She was, within three strokes, completely overwhelmed by the myriad of
sensations she was being bombarded with.  The first was the unbelievable
feeling of fullness, in her loins.  She felt like she'd been starving for
years, and had just eaten way too much.  Added to that was his weight, as
it settled on her, and for the first time, she was pressed helplessly to a
bed by the inescapable pressure on her.  Her clitty screamed at her, and
his chest on her breasts sent electric jolts through her.  When his lips
crushed hers, her mind went into overload.

   She would always remember this night as being something like the big
wheel of fortune that came to town with the carnival every year.  The big
wheel spun, the pointer making a clacking sound as it flipped from peg to
peg, each one signifying a different wonderful thing that could happen to
the person who had given the carnie a dollar.  As her virginity was
surrendered, the feel of the penis in her, her clitty, her nipples, his
skin against hers, and his lips were like the pegs on that wheel, with the
pointer flicking against them, over and over.  Her mind couldn't
concentrate on just one thing, and kept flipping from one to another, to
another, until all she could feel was the overwhelming ecstasy of being
loved.

   The wheel finally landed on orgasm, and she was a winner.  This orgasm
put to shame every other one she'd thought was the best that it could ever
be.  At one point, as she thrashed under him, a part of her overwhelmed
mind separated, to float above them, looking down.  It said "Now THAT is an
orgasm!" and then sank back into her, unwilling to be separated from the
brain that was experiencing that orgasm.

   Something bumped the wheel, and it clicked to the next space, which was
also marked "Orgasm".  This one, though, was Bobby's.  She heard it
signaled in his groan, and then felt the wash of liquid heat spraying into
her belly, which extended her own orgasm, or set off another one - she
couldn't tell which.

   Had a genie from a bottle materialized, in a puff of smoke, and said
"You have one wish," Mary's wish, at that moment, would have been, "Make
this last forever."

   As they panted for breath, she crushed him in her arms, unwilling to let
him go, until she had no strength left in her body.  When her arms flopped
to the bed, the sadness she felt was because she didn't have enough energy
to keep them wrapped around him.

   Bobby kissed her, and whispered.  "It will be even better when Fred does
it to you."

   "It can't," she panted.  "I'll die if it's any better than that."

   "You won't die."

   "Thank you," she said.

   "You're very welcome." She could sense him grinning, above her.

   "No!" she whispered.  "I mean it!  I can't begin to tell you what that
meant to me."

   "I love you," he said.

   "I love you too," she moaned.

   "Well, then," he said, lifting himself onto his hands and knees, his
prick slurping out of her with a squishy sound, "now that that's settled,
you can go to bed."

   "I don't want to move," she whined.  "I don't want to leave."

   "You have to.  Flo caught Bev rubbing me, on the way home.  The last
thing we need is for someone to find you in my bed in the morning."

   "She caught you?"

   "We were just riding home, and Bev was playing a little.  Flo saw her
hand in my lap."

   "What did she do?" asked Mary.

   "She got a little upset.  I was trying to show her that it was no big
deal, and I kissed her ...  to show her.  I don't know what I was
thinking."

   "You idiot!" said Mary.  "I came to you.  You don't go to them!  You
were lucky with Bev."

   "I know," he said helplessly.  "It just kind of happened.  But you have
to go to bed.  She's in there, and if she gets up in the night and you're
not there, she'll go looking for you."

   "If you hadn't just made me the happiest woman in the world, I think I'd
be really mad at you!" she said softly.  "I'll talk to her in the morning."

   "Do you think you should?" he asked.

   "We've lived in the same room together all our lives," said Mary,
getting up.  "I know her better than I know any other person on earth. 
I'll talk to her."

   "OK," said Bobby.

   "But you owe me," she said, putting her clothes back on in the dark.

   "What do I owe you?" he asked.

   "I know I said I'd only ask you to do this once," she whispered.  "But
if I have to wait a whole week to feel that again I won't be able to walk
down the aisle.  I'll be a basket case.  You owe me this again ...  maybe
twice."

   Bobby grinned in the dark, but made his voice sound contrite.

   "All right."

   She bent over to kiss him.

   "I really do love you, even if you're an idiot."

   "I really do love you too," said Bobby, thinking of the sperm he'd put
in other women, and what it had done to them.

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

   The next morning went anticlimactically, with maybe one or two
exeptions, which only Bobby and Bev noticed.  Mary talked to Flo when they
woke up.  Bobby wouldn't find out what she said until later, but whatever
it was made Flo simply stare at him, rather than saying anything about what
had happened in the truck.  She picked at her food, too, but nobody else
noticed.

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

   It was Matilda's turn to collect eggs.  Bobby was the unofficial,
official supervisor of that activity.  His thirteen-year-old sister was
more concerned with getting chores done, so she could shoot off
firecrackers, than anything else, and the gathering went quickly.

   Then Bobby borrowed the truck, and went to see about Jill Trimble's
washing machine.

   She met him at the door in short shorts and a halter top that exposed a
deep crevice between her breasts.  He looked straight into her eyes.

   "I don't know if I should let you in or not," she said, blinking at him.

   "Why's that?" he asked.

   "I did talk to some of the women in ...  that other group."

   "And what did they say?" he asked.

   "It wasn't so much what they said," she muttered.  "It was more the way
they said it."

   "OK," he said, standing there, holding his tool bag.

   "Some of them like you," she said.

   "And that's a bad thing?" he asked.

   "They like you a lot," she said.

   "They said that?" he queried.

   "A woman can tell when another woman is ...  let's say ...  infatuated,
with a man."

   "Well, I guess it's up to you," he said, finally.

   "I'm very vulnerable, right now," she said.

   Bobby cocked his head.  Her hair was up in a pony tail again.  She
looked young, and healthy, and very desirable.

   "I'm not sure what you're trying to say," he said.

   "I'm recently divorced," she said.  "You're young, and handsome, and a
lot of women seem to be infatuated with you."

   "I can't help who I am," he said.

   "I don't want to get infatuated with anybody right now," she said.

   "Then don't." He grinned.  "I'm just here to look at your washer."

   "If only it were that easy," she said.  "You're too young to understand
how complicated life is for a woman like me."

   "If I can fix your washer, won't that make things a little less
complicated?" he asked.

   She looked frustrated, for a moment.  "Oh, all right!" she sighed. 
"Come on in.  I'll show you the washer!"

   She led him to a utility room that was, in fact, piled with laundry,
waiting to be washed.  Her choice of underwear was vastly different than
that of the women he was already intimately acquainted with.  Theirs was
all utilitarian, and plain.  Hers was all feminine, lacy, and thin.  She
had gone to no effort to hide any of it, and it was mixed in with
everything else, in piles of clothing that were obviously sorted by color.

   "That's it," she said, pointing needlessly to the white machine.

   Bobby tried running it through a cycle, and heard the motor working, but
nothing moved inside the basket.  The pump worked, though, sucking the
water out that he'd let run into the tub.  When it was empty, he pulled the
machine out and got behind it, to remove the back.  He shone a flashlight
into the guts, and saw two belts, one in place, the other hanging, and two
broken ends visible.

   He pulled it out.  The hardware store would be closed today, but he had
a collection of belts in the workshop at the farm, things that had been
salvaged from this or that, as things were found un-repairable.  He kept
lots of parts from things other people had thrown out.

   "If I've got a belt this size back home, I can get you up and washing
today," he said, looking up.  She was leaned over, watching him, and her
cleavage was almost in his face.

   "That's what's wrong?" she asked, looking at the broken belt in his
hand.

   "Yup," he said.  "A new belt will get you going."

   "It's that easy?" she asked, disbelief in her voice.  "How much is a new
belt?"

   "I'll have to put a used one on, since today's a holiday.  If you want,
I can get a new one later.  I guess I'd have to charge you ten dollars to
make it worth my time.

   "Ten bucks?" she said.  "That's it?"

   "I can charge you fifteen, if it will make you feel better," he said,
grinning.

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

   When Bobby got back with a belt he thought would work, Jill was
ecstatic. She watched, as he had to remove some struts, to get the belt on,
and they chatted about things in general.  He was busy with the innards of
the machine, and did not look at her.  When the belt was in place, he tried
the cycle, and Jill gave a little yip of satisfaction when the agitator
started moving.  It only took him another ten minutes to put the back on
the machine, and move it back into place.  Jill was already sorting out her
first load, which was an armful of panties and bras.

   "Can I ask you a question?" Bobby queried.

   "Sure," she said, stuffing things into the washer.

   "If you aren't interested in men being interested in you, why do you
dress like that?"

   She closed the lid and looked down.

   "What's wrong with how I'm dressed?" she asked.

   "Nothing, as far as I'm concerned," he said.  "I love it.  You look very
good that way.  It's just that it brings out the man in me."

   "It's just how I dress!" she said, putting her hands on her hips. 
"Every woman wants to look nice."

   "That's fine," said Bobby, "but when I got here, you made it quite plain
that you didn't want me to act like a man, and yet, you dressed in such a
way that I couldn't help it."

   Jill's eyes darted to his groin.  He wasn't erect, but his jeans had a
lump in them anyway.

   "I didn't mean to," she said, frowning.

   "I didn't think so," said Bobby.  "Other men might not understand that,
though.  I just thought I'd point that out."

   "Well," she said, frowning, "You DID act like a perfect gentleman."

   "I try to do that a lot," he said, grinning.  "I may be twenty-three,
but my Mamma still thinks she has the right to spank my bottom if she
thinks I need it."

   That got a grin.  "Well, if I see your mother, I'll inform her that you
were most polite."

   "Thanks," he said.  "I need all the help I can get.  Now, what else
needs fixing while I'm here?" She threw up her hands.  "Mark left all the
junk here when he moved out.  He took all the good stuff when I told him to
get out.  By the time we got to court, the Judge sided with me, but he'd
already sold or given away a lot of stuff.  He has to pay me alimony, but
it's not enough to buy fancy stuff.  Practically everything needs fixing."

   They did a walk-through of the house, which was immaculate, except for
the piles of clothes in the utility room.  Mark had also punched or kicked
holes in several walls, in his anger, and one door had been slammed so hard
that the screws had been popped out of two of the hinges.  He had taken the
good car, and left the old junker there.  She said it started sometimes,
and didn't others.  She had a job as a waitress, but it was close enough
that she could walk to work.  Bobby put two chairs, and an end table in the
back of his truck, to take home and re-glue legs onto.  By the time he
left, Jill was subdued.

   "How much is all this going to cost?" she asked.

   "Well, there's the fifteen dollars you already owe me ..."

   "Hey!  Wait a minute!" she yipped.  "You said ten, before."

   "I thought that wasn't enough for you," he teased.

   She realized he'd been teasing, and laughed.

   "It shouldn't be much," he said.  "All I need is a little glue and some
clamps.  The screws for the door can be replaced with longer ones, and I'll
glue toothpicks in the holes to make them solid again.  Unless we find
something really wrong, you'll get away for thirty bucks, tops."

   Jill stared at him.

   "I see one reason why all those women like you so much," she said.  "You
don't gouge them."

   "Well ... that wouldn't be polite, would it?" he said, smiling.

   "OK, deal!" she said, happily.  "At your prices, I might even be able to
afford a new belt for the washer."

   "I wouldn't replace it until that one breaks," he said.  "That one could
last a year or two."

   "See what I mean?" she said, excitedly.  "You could have told me
anything!  But you were nice to me instead.  I wish there were more men out
there like you."

   "Careful," he said, picking up his tool bag.  "You don't want to get
attracted to me." He grinned.

   "Thank you," she said, handing him a ten dollar bill.  "I mean that."

   "You're welcome," he said.  "I mean that too."

   She walked him out to the truck.

   "I'll have these things back in a couple of days, if I can get Mamma to
let loose of the truck again," he said.

   "You don't have your own car?" she asked.

   "Saving up for it now," he said.

   "At ten dollars a job, you'll have to save a long time," she said.

   "Can't be helped," he said, smiling.

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

   Bobby drove by Prudence's house, but her car was gone, so he didn't
stop.

   He found out why her car was gone, when he got home, and saw it parked
there.  She and his mother were in the kitchen, shelling peas.

   "I'm back," he said.

   "How'd it go?" asked his mother, looking up.

   "Fixed it," he said.  "Got a few pieces of furniture out in the truck to
mend too."

   "Is that all?" she asked.  Her tone of voice sounded suspicious.

   "Mamma," he sighed.  "I wish you'd quit worrying about me."

   "Every mother worries about her child," said Prudence, smiling.

   "It's just that Mrs.  Trimble is divorced," said Mirriam.

   Bobby grinned.  "And you complain about people calling you a war baby
mother."

   Mirriam looked shocked.  "Where did you hear that?"

   Bobby sat down.  "I've known about that since I was little, Mamma," he
said.  "I never cared.  You know that."

   "I just didn't know," she said, softly.  "Do the girls know about that
...  name ...  too?"

   "Of course they do," said Bobby.  "They don't care either."

   "I'm so lucky to have you," moaned Mirriam.  It was obvious she was
talking about all of them.

   "You are," said Prudence softly.  Her eyes were damp.

   "And it hasn't hurt you as much as you think," said Bobby.  "I mean look
...  you have a big date a week from next Saturday and everything."

   His mother stopped looking sappy, and frowned.

   "I'm not so sure that date is such a good idea," she said.

   "Why not?" asked Bobby.  "You deserve some attention.  You both do."

   Prudence blushed.  Both Bobby and Mirriam noticed that her hands went to
her pregnant belly.  She looked distinctly uncomfortable for a few seconds,
and then squared her shoulders.

   "Bobby, would you please excuse us for a minute?" she asked.  "I need to
talk to your mother privately."

   Bobby got up and went to his room, where he stretched out to take a nap.
He'd have to do all the hauling for the picnic scheduled for that
afternoon, and turn the crank on the ice cream freezer, when it got too
hard for the girls to turn.  He figured he was due a nap.

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

   In the kitchen, Prudence looked nervous again.

   "I like you," she said to Mirriam.

   "I like you too," said Mirriam.

   "We've only been friends since last night," said Prudence, "but if we're
going to go on picnics together, and visit each other ...  I want to be
honest about it."

   "You're talking about Bobby," said Mirriam.

   Prudence's eyes opened wide.

   "You know?"

   "He's my son, Prudence.  I know where he goes, and who he sees, for the
most part.  What I'm worried about is what YOU don't know."

   "What I don't know?" said Prudence, weakly.

   "How did you hear about him?" asked Mirriam.

   "Bobby?  Martha told me I should call him.  Why?"

   Mirriam fidgeted for fifteen seconds.

   "He's worked for lots of people," she started.  "Among them are Tilly
Johnson, Martha, Sherry Winston ...  and you."

   Prudence looked confused for all of another fifteen seconds, as she
reviewed the names Mirriam had spoken.  Then her eyes opened wide again.

   "You don't mean he ...  with ALL of them?"

   "You've been around him.  You should know, as well as any, how he
affects a woman.  I'm his mother, for pity's sake, and he affects me the
same way!"

   "But they're married!" moaned Prudence.

   "All with husbands who neglected them, or, bless poor Tilly's heart, had
a husband who wasn't a real man."

   "Still," moaned Prudence.  "Even a neglectful man won't stand for
something like that!"

   "That's why I worry about him," said Mirriam.  "Don't ask me how, or
why, but at least two of those men know what happened.  He's on speaking
terms with both of them!  It's the strangest thing I've ever seen."

   "But he's worked for other women too ...  right?" asked Prudence.

   "Yes," said Mirriam.  "And there are more of them than there are of ...
these others.  I just don't know what to think.  I know it's none of my
business, but I have to ask.  Did he treat you well?"

   Prudence felt her stomach do flip flops.  She'd been ready to confess to
Mirriam, and, in a way, hadn't had to.  Now a direct question was on the
table.  She owed it to Mirriam, who could have snubbed her, and hadn't ...
could have shunned her, but had accepted her apology, and offer of
friendship.

   "He's the finest man I've ever met in my life," she said softly.

   "Did he offer to marry you?" asked Mirriam, dread in her voice.

   "I wouldn't let him talk about it," said Prudence, feeling stronger now.

   "Why not?" asked Mirriam, her voice rising.

   "Would you take up ...  publicly ...  with a man half your age?" asked
Prudence.

   Mirriam frowned.  "I suppose not ...  but ...  I don't think I'd take up
with him privately either."

   "I didn't intend to," said Prudence.  "It was the farthest thing from my
mind.  But I needed him, Mirriam.  I still need him ..." She stopped, and
blushed furiously.  "What I mean is that he made me come alive again.  He
changed my whole life, and Constance's too.  We're both so much happier
now, it's like we've awakened from a nightmare, and the sun is shining
bright!"

   "Constance too?" choked Mirriam.

   Prudence blinked.  "No!  Not that!" She subsided, thinking about how
happy her daughter was, and the way she was bubbly now, and outgoing.  "At
least I don't THINK so!" she said.

   "You don't know?" asked Mirriam.

   "I thought I did, but she's changed so much ...  since she met him ...
and I've changed so much ...  Oh!  Now I don't know WHAT to think!"

   "That's the nice thing about having a son like Bobby!" said Mirriam
firmly.  "Wait here."

   Mirriam got up and went to Bobby's room.  His door was closed, but that
wasn't odd.  The girls were in Bev and Linda's room, from the sounds of it,
and they were, of course, making noise.  She turned the knob and walked in.

   The room was dim, because the shades had been pulled.  Bobby was lying
on top of his bed, asleep.  He was in his briefs, and a fan was blowing on
him.  She hated to disturb him, but the question was too important.  She
stepped to the bed, and looked down.

   He was so handsome.  His chest, even in repose, was all sculpted muscle.
A shock of his black hair drooped onto his forehead.  She could see he
needed a shave.  Then her eyes fell on the briefs he was wearing.  The
bulge there was shaped such that she could see the outline of his shaft,
and the twin bulges below that.  He was all man.  What was under his shorts
had given babies to at least three, and possibly four women, if her
suspicions were correct.  She felt her own belly whirl, at the thought of
being filled again.  That had been her weakness with Joe.  She had loved
being filled ...  had craved it ...  even knowing that, as virile and
potent as Joe obviously was, that he would probably impregnate her again.
She had never been able to say "No" to him ...  had never even WANTED to
say no to him.  Joe had, for all intents and purposes, raised Bobby.  And,
apparently, whatever that special thing was that Joe had, had been taught
to Bobby, because he seemed to have it too.

   Firming her jaw, she touched his shoulder.  His eyes opened, and she
stared into them.

   "We need to talk to you ...  in the kitchen," she said softly.

   "OK," he said, sitting up.  He reached for his shorts, and she watched
him pull them on.  Then he went to the dresser and got a T shirt, and
pulled it over his head.

   They said nothing to each other, as she walked him to the kitchen, where
Prudence was sitting nervously.  He sat down.

   Mirriam took a breath.  "Bobby," she said, her voice tight.  "Have you
ever made love to Constance?"

   He stared at her, and then looked at Prudence, who was obviously looking
at him with difficulty.

   "No," he said.  "Is that all?"

   "Baby, we had to ask you," moaned Mirriam.

   "Why?" he asked.  "Is she pregnant too?"

   "No!" yipped Prudence.  Then her face twisted.  "I don't know!"

   "I thought you talked to her, after she saw us," he said.

   "Saw you?" asked Mirriam, confused.

   Bobby turned his level gaze on her.  "Constance and Bev came into the
house one time.  We didn't expect them, or know they were there."

   "Beverly saw you ..." Mirriam gasped.

   "Yes," said Bobby.  "I talked to her afterwards.  We came home
together."

   "You talked to her?" whined Mirriam.

   "I explained that Prudence and I were both adults," he said.  "She knows
about that kind of thing, Mamma.  I suspect most of your daughters do."

   Mirriam sat, stunned.  He was right, of course.  She had known about
that long before she got married.  She'd had Bobby when she, herself, was
seventeen.  She had two daughters older than that now, one of which was due
to be married in less than a week.  Her daughters were probably better
informed than she had been, at their ages.  She just hadn't thought about
it.

   Bobby had turned back to Prudence.  "Didn't you talk to her?" he asked
again.

   "Yes!" she said.

   "Then don't you think you should ask HER if she's having sex?"

   Prudence flushed.  "I suppose so," she said, somewhat stiffly.

   "Don't be mad at me," said "Bobby.  "You asked some questions, and I
answered them.  Then I asked some questions, and you answered them.  That's
all that happened here." His voice wasn't as carefree as his words were,
though.

   "Stop it," said Mirriam.  "Both of you.  This is all my fault.  You two
were getting along fine until I butted in.  I was being foolish." She
looked at her son.  "I'll try not to worry so much.  Based on what Prudence
said, you seem to be doing fine."

   "Thank you," said Bobby.  He got up to leave.

   "Wait!" said Prudence.  He paused.  She got up and came to him.  She
gave him a quick kiss on the lips, her hands on his shoulders.

   He grinned, and looked at his mother, who was looking a little startled.

   "You can go finish your nap, now," she said weakly.

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

   Bobby got up two hours later, when a gaggle of girls stampeded past his
room, one of them thumping into his door.  He put on the same shorts and T
shirt he'd worn when his mother had awakened him, and left the room, to see
what was expected of him.

   There was cooking going on in the kitchen.  A big pot of corn on the cob
was boiling, and Prudence was frying chicken, while Mirriam got a ham ready
to put in the oven.

   "Smells good already," said Bobby.

   "Good, you're here," said Mirriam, smiling at him.  "Prudence and
Constance are staying.  We're going to need more chairs, and she has some
at the house.  I want you to run her over there and bring them back.  She
doesn't need to be carrying chairs in her condition."

   "I told you, I'm fine!" said Prudence.

   "Go on," ordered Mirriam, waving a carving fork their way.  "And don't
dilly dally.  This all has to be ready in two hours."

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

   Prudence scooted over, to sit beside Bobby in the pickup.  She took his
arm.

   "I thought we weren't supposed to dilly dally," he said, putting his
hand on her thigh.

   "I'm not," she said, her voice wounded.

   "That," he said, pushing his arm into the breast she was pressing
against it, "is definitely dillying, and this," he slid his hand up her leg
until he couldn't go any farther, and she hissed ... "is definitely
dallying."

   "It won't take long," she sighed, scooting down into his hand.

   They got the chairs to the front door, before she couldn't wait any
longer, and dragged him to the bedroom.  Once she was naked, and firmly
impaled on his prick, she wiggled her hips furiously.

   "I love this so much," she moaned.  She looked down.  "Your mother says
you do this with other women too."

   "I don't talk about that," he said.  "It isn't fair to anyone."

   "Why don't I care?" she groaned, as a climax washed over her.

   "Because, when I'm with you, I only think about you," he said, pulling
at her nipples, to enhance her orgasm.

   "We're not done until you squirt in me," she gasped, beginning to rock
again.

   "That's fine with me," he grinned, pulling her down to suck at what he
had just pulled.

   "I love this so much," she groaned.

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

   The picnic went well, perhaps more so because there were people outside
the family there too.  While Mirriam had gotten surprisingly fond of
Prudence, who was almost girlishly thankful that she had a new friend. 
Further, the girls had all but adopted Constance, who basked in their
attention.  Bobby's situation was a little different.  That Constance
adored him was plain, to all the girls.  She flirted with him frequently.
Mary was old enough to mask her own adoration.  Bev paid a lot of attention
to him, but was pretty good at making it look like she was just helping
with whatever he was doing.  Flo was conflicted.  She really liked
Constance, and the fact that Constance had a crush on Bobby did not escape
her.  She had been watching Bobby and Bev ever since that night in the
pickup truck but, other than what she thought she saw in their eyes, they
hadn't done anything weird.

   The younger girls, who had treated Bobby as any girl treats her big
brother, for years, had recently fallen victim to his age and freedom, and
their attitudes toward him now resulted in them seeing him as something of
a father figure.  They vied for his approval, and delighted in any praise
he gave them.  Flo had seen all of that too.

   During the picnic, she watched as Bobby took off his shirt in the shade,
to turn the crank on the ice cream freezer.  At seventeen, she was plenty
interested in boys, in general, but there were none at school that captured
her particular attention.  There were a few she looked at, longer than the
others, but they all had girlfriends.  Looking at Bobby now, she compared
him, for the first time, to other boys she knew.  She was both amused, and
disgusted to arrive at the conclusion that her brother was head and
shoulders above the rest.  He was just as handsome, twice as strong, and
almost never made fun of her, or teased her anymore.

   That kiss had been eating at her.  Why had he kissed her like that?  It
had been a kiss like she'd expect from a boy ...  not her brother.  And
Bev's hand ... right there in his lap.  Mary had told her, the next
morning, that nothing was happening that Bev didn't want to happen ... 
that Bev was exploring, experimenting with Bobby, instead of boys from
school, because she could trust him, and he wouldn't do anything she didn't
want him to do.

   She'd thought about that for days.  Did Bev want to know what it felt
like to put her hand in a boy's lap?  Of course she did.  Flo wondered what
that would feel like too.  Had Bev kissed Bobby, like he had kissed her? 
What else had she "experimented" with?  And how did Mary know all about it?
She couldn't believe that Mary had said that, when Flo was ready, if she
was ever ready, she could go to Bobby too!  Flo thought about that a lot
too.  She'd been mildly interested in Joey Stevens, for about a month. 
There had been something about him that made her want to touch him.  He'd
been friendly to her too, and she let him kiss her once.  But he'd picked
another girl to ask out, and Flo had backed off, disappointed, but also
glad, somehow.

   She hadn't said anything to either Bev or Bobby, and they had both acted
like nothing had happened.  Bobby had even said it was nothing.  How could
that be nothing?  The kiss, short as it had been, had been disturbing. 
That certainly hadn't been "nothing".  Not to her.

   Bev left Bobby, at Mary's call.  Mary was freaking about the wedding,
and kept thinking up something else every other minute that had to be
resolved instantly.  Flo couldn't imagine wanting to get married, but she
had already decided that, if she ever did, it was going to be very simple.
She'd stand in front of the preacher and say "I do" and whoever the groom
was would say "I do" and that would be it.  If they had to get married in
jeans, that was fine, but there was no WAY she was going to go completely
crazy, like Mary had.  She watched Bobby's muscles move, as he cranked the
ice cream.  On impulse, she walked over.

   "Need some help?" she asked.

   "Don't know if you could turn it or not," he said.

   That was the kind of thing she'd been thinking about it.  Any other man
would have said "You're too weak to turn this," but Bobby didn't assume
that.

   "Why did you kiss me?" she asked.  She didn't think she needed to
specify which kiss she was talking about.

   "You were upset," he said softly.  "I didn't want you to do anything
that you'd be sorry for later."

   "Why would I be sorry for anything?" she asked.

   "Because you love Bev, and you love me, and you would be sad,
eventually, if you made trouble for either of us."

   "Are you guys doing it, or something?" she asked.

   He looked at her.  "Doing it?"

   "You know what I mean," she said.  "Christy Bellows got drunk one night
on spiked punch.  She said she and Charley do it sometimes." Charley was
Christy's brother, though he was a year younger than Christy.

   "And you believed her?" asked Bobby.

   "Yes," said Flo.  "She kind of described it in detail.  I've heard of
other kids messing around with their brother or sister."

   "No, we're not ...  doing it," said Bobby.

   "Why did she have her hand on your cock?" asked Flo.

   "When did you start talking with a gutter mouth?" he asked.

   "Don't give me that crap, Bobby.  Cock, penis, prick, whatever you want
to call it ...  she had her hand on yours."

   "Why do you want to know this?" he asked, his arm steadily cranking.

   "I don't know," she said.  "It makes me nervous, thinking about it." She
frowned.  "If you're doing stuff, I mean."

   "Why would you be nervous?" he asked.

   "I've kissed exactly one guy," she said, folding her arms under her
breasts.  Flo was smaller than either Bev or Mary.  She was a tomboy, and
had the shape to go with it.  "When you kissed me, it was better than it
was with him.  That's just weird."

   "He didn't love you," said Bobby.  "I do.  It makes a difference."

   "She's younger than I am," said Flo, ignoring his comment, even though
it had sent a zing of emotion through her.  "How come she gets to do stuff,
and I don't?"

   "Do you want to?"

   "No, but it's not fair anyway."

   "Why do you even care what Bev does?"

   "I'm her big sister," said Flo.  "I have to watch out for her."

   "Then I think you should ask her if I've done anything that makes her
nervous, or afraid, or worried, or in any way that might cause her pain."

   "That's a bullshit answer," she said.

   "You'd better be careful," he warned, stopping the crank.  "If Mamma
hears you talking like that, she'll wash your mouth out with soap."

   "She would not!" said Flo, feeling suddenly like she was ten again.

   "And I'd hold you down while she did it," said Bobby.

   "Why won't you just tell me?" she moaned.

   He stopped cranking and looked at her.  "Let me ask you a question," he
said.  "How would you feel, if I told, say Horace, that I kissed you?"

   "I'd DIE of embarrassment!" she wailed.

   "Then why are you asking me to talk about Bev?"

   "So you're not going to tell me what you two do?"

   "Nope," he said.  "Ask Bev.  If she wants to tell you, that's fine.  If
not, it's between her and me."

   "Are you going to kiss me again?" She blinked.  Where had that come
from? She hadn't intended to ask him that.

   "If you want me to," he said calmly.  He started cranking again.

   "That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard you say!" she whined. 
"Why on Earth would I want you to kiss me like that again?"

   "There isn't anybody in the whole wide world that can answer that
question except you," he said.  He grinned.

   She fumed for a minute.

   "Did you like it?" she asked.

   "Kissing you?"

   "Yes ...  did you like it?" She seemed very interested in his answer.

   "I already told you ...  I love you.  I wouldn't have kissed you if I
didn't love you."

   "But you're my brother!"

   "I'm your half brother," he said.  "You know that."

   She looked around, a horrified look on her face.  "We don't talk about
that stuff!"

   "But you know it," he said.

   "You'll always be my brother," she said stiffly.

   "And I'll always love you, whether I ever kiss you like that again, or
not," he said.  "You want to try this now?"

   He stepped away from the churn, and she moved to grasp the handle.  She
gave a lurch.  The crank wouldn't budge.  Her eyes widened.  He had just
been turning it ...  round and round!  She tried again.  She got it to move
half a crank, before giving up.

   "Think about this, before you spout any more dirty words out of those
pretty, soft lips of yours," he said.

   He leaned over and started turning the crank again.  She watched his
muscles bunch, and felt flutters in her stomach.

   "I CAN hold you down, while Mamma washes your mouth out with soap." He
grinned.

   She stalked away, trying to be mad at him.  It didn't work, though. 
Just like always, he had treated her like an adult, instead of a little
sister.  True, he hadn't answered all her questions, but even that she
couldn't really argue with.  She'd heard boys boasting about what they'd
done with certain girls.  That was one of the reasons she never did
anything with any of them.  They had big mouths.

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

   Prudence and Mirriam sat, in lawn chairs, in the shade of the elm tree
and watched, as the young ones played, ran, or shot off firecrackers.

   "Your children are so well behaved," said Prudence.

   "You don't see them all the time," snorted Mirriam.

   "Yes, but what girl just stands and talks to her big brother, like
Florence was just doing?  Most girls don't want to have anything to do with
their brothers."

   Mirriam nodded.  "They didn't either, until he left school.  He'd grown
up so much.  I'm really lucky he's still living here.  He does a lot of
work."

   "I could watch him crank ice cream all day long," sighed Prudence,
watching his muscles work.

   "I could too," sighed Mirriam.  She blinked, and looked at Prudence, who
was grinning at her.  "I didn't mean it that way!" she spluttered.

   "Yes you did," said Prudence, still grinning.  "And don't deny it.  He's
gorgeous, and any woman would see it, even his mother." She giggled. 
"Besides, I don't feel as guilty when I know that another woman twice his
age gets all googly eyed over him.

   "I am NOT twice his age!" said Mirriam, trying to sound stiff.

   "You'd feel like it after he got through with you," laughed Prudence.

   "Prudence Harris!" gasped Mirriam.  "I am shocked."

   Prudence saw the flush of pink under Mirriam's chin and leaned toward
her, lowering her voice.

   "He can go for an hour, if you let him."

   "I will NOT listen to this!" moaned Mirriam.

   "One day we did it four times in less than three hours," giggled
Prudence.

   Mirriam covered her face with her hands.

   "Why are you doing this to meeee?" she moaned.

   "Because next Saturday, we're going swimming with a nice man, who is
interested in you.  I think you should skinny dip, and have some fun."

   Mirriam's hands came down and she snapped a look at her friend.

   "I'll do no such thing!" she barked.

   "You will if I get you horny enough," laughed Prudence.

   "Stop talking like that!  You sound like a hussy!" Mirriam's voice
trembled.

   "Mirriam, I went for twelve years without a man, because I felt guilty
for Harry's death.  Then Bobby came along, and I found out that not only
had I missed twelve years of joy, Harry wasn't all that good in bed after
all.  Your son was the best thing that ever happened to me, except for
Constance.  Now, I know you can't have him, because he's your son, but for
pity's sake, Mirriam, if he gets you going, like he gets everybody else
going, use that with somebody like Ted."

   "He's interested in you," said Mirriam, staring at Bobby.

   "He's interested in babies," said Prudence, talking about Ted.

   "I don't want to have any more babies!" moaned Mirriam.

   "That's what I thought too," said Prudence, stroking her belly.  "Now, I
couldn't be happier that I'm going to have another one."

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

   Bobby, still shirtless, brought the ice cream canister over to the
table, by where his mother and lover were sitting.  He was descended upon
by girls, eager for a taste of the sweet treat.  Prudence took up the scoop
and began serving them.  Bobby sat down by his mother, in the chair
Prudence had been sitting in.

   "Put on a shirt, before you scare the girls," said Mirriam.

   "I wouldn't scare anybody," he laughed.  "Well, with the possible
exception of Arthur Thompson." He grinned, as his mother shot him a look.
"I had to convince him to stop drinking, and I guess that involved what
some people might view as threats."

   Mirriam goggled.  "YOU'RE the one who got him to stop?!"

   "Martha deserved better than he was giving her," said Bobby simply.

   Mirriam closed her eyes.  "Bobby?  Is Andrew my grandson?"

   "Yes, Ma'am," said Bobby softly.

   "Bobby?" she said quietly.

   "Yes?"

   "If I ever ask you a question like that again, please tell me it's none
of my business."

   "Yes, Ma'am," he said.

   "Oh!" she yipped, watching Matilda eating ice cream.  "I completely
forgot about the cake!"

   She jumped up, and Bobby got up too.

   "I'll go with you to get it," he said.

   "I can do it myself," she replied.

   "I know," he said.

   "Could you at least put on a shirt?"

   "Mamma, I'm going to be with you."

   "I know that," she moaned.  "That's why I want you to put on a shirt!"

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

   "You want to tell me what's wrong?" he asked, when they got into the
house.

   "I have thoughts about my own son!  That's what's wrong!" she barked.

   "I already told you how I feel about you, Mamma," he said.

   "I know that!" she snapped.  "And then I make friends with Prudence, and
the evidence of your manhood stares me in the face while I'm measuring you.
I find out my daughter saw you making love to a woman, and I'm quite sure
there are four of my grandchildren out there who I'll never get to hold and
cuddle.  How much can a woman take?!" She turned her back to him, tears in
her eyes.  "I'm not supposed to want my own son, like this!  And he's not
supposed to want ME!"

   Bobby didn't hesitate.  He walked up behind her and put his arms around
her, his hands on the belly he'd grown in.  She stiffened in his arms, but
he held her tight.

   "I can't help what I feel for you," he said softly.  "I don't want to,
because I don't think it hurts a single person for me to love you.  And
however you feel about things is how YOU feel, and I won't complain about
that, no matter what you decide to do."

   "I can't go on like this," she moaned.  "I can't go on wanting you like
a man.  I feel like I'm going to explode!"

   "We don't have to make love," he whispered.  "I can give you pleasure
without doing that." He slid his hands up to cup her breasts, and felt for
her nipples through her bra.

   "We can't!" she gasped.  Her hands rose to push his away, but, somehow,
landed on top of them, holding them to her breasts.

   "Sure we can," he said.  "You need to feel better.  I can help you."

   She turned in his arms by force of will, intending to berate him ... 
stop him ...  discipline him.  Instead she fell into the trap of his kiss,
and her body betrayed her, just like it always had with Joe.  The need was
so strong that it trampled even the decorum of a mother, resisting the lure
of her son.

   It was lucky she was wearing a dress, simply because that gave his hand
easy access to her panties, which were no barrier at all.  He slid a thick
finger into her pussy before she had even registered the feel of his hand
on her abdomen, and her knees failed her, letting most of her body weight
fall on that finger.  His other hand slapped to her butt, grasping her butt
cheek and holding her, while his finger probed deep, and his kiss sucked
the breath from her.

   Mirriam had a hot box.  She could cum at the drop of a hat, but a hat
had to be dropped.  She'd never been a woman who wanted to play with
herself, which is one reason, perhaps, that she was so overwhelmingly horny
at this point in time.  That may have been lucky too, because she came
almost immediately as his finger slid deep inside her.  That one rolled
over into an encore, as he wagged his finger, as best he could with her
whole weight on it, in her pussy.  By the time he broke the kiss, she'd cum
three times in a row, and was so startled by it all that she just let the
feelings flow over her.

   He kissed her again, pulling his hand from her panties, and turning her
to press her front against his.  This kiss she returned, as things began
catching up to her outpaced brain.  She was still rattled, still shocked,
and still off balance ...  but she DID feel much better.  She thanked him
with her lips, because she knew, even then, that she would never be able to
thank him with words.

   The whirlwind continued as he stopped kissing her, let her go, picked up
the cake, and said: "They'll be wondering where we are."

   She actually stumbled, following him, and felt light-headed all the way
to the tree, where she sank back down into her chair, still feeling the
after effects of those three ambush orgasms.

   She had just caught her breath when Prudence sat down beside her.  Bobby
was handing out big pieces of cake.

   "What in the world happened to you?" asked Prudence, concern on her
face. "You look like you just saw a ghost!"

   "Bobby happened," sighed Mirriam.  She looked at her friend and her eyes
fluttered.  "He touched me."

   "Just now?  In the house?" Prudence's eyes were wide.

   "Yes," moaned Mirriam.  "It was awful!" She blinked.  "It was
wonderful," she sighed.  "I still feel it."

   Prudence realized that, whatever had happened, it had been something
quick and simple.  Mirriam seemed more relaxed, though, and she wasn't in
the throes of remorse or regret.  That might come, but it wasn't there so
far.

   "That's nothing," she said, patting Mirriam's hand.  "He's good at that,
but that's just the tip of the iceberg.  You have NO idea what that man can
do to a woman."

   "I can't let him do that." Mirriam's voice was soft and dreamy.

   "I know," said Prudence.  "But you can let Ted do that ...  on the
picnic."

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

   The following week was a roller coaster for the Dalton clan, as Mary
went through all the stress of making final wedding plans.  Her guest list
wasn't all that long and, in fact, more of the groom's family was attending
than hers.  Still, she wanted everything to be perfect, as young brides
often do, and the pace she drove herself at caused a great deal of stress.

   She sought relief from that stress with Bobby.  Not only did she go to
him to repeat what they had done that one time, she went to him nightly.

   And, so great was her need, that when she climbed on top of him Monday
night, the fact that Bev was with her didn't even slow her down.  She did
rub on his long, hard prick, like she had so many times before, but only
for a minute or less.  Then, as if she'd done it a hundred times before,
she put her hand on the tip of his prick, pulled it into her opening, and
slid backwards with a groan, as it slithered up in her completely.

   Bev didn't even realize what was going on, at first.  She was stroking
her own clit, getting herself ready for her turn.  It wasn't until Mary sat
straight up, and there was no penis in front of her, that Bev's
disbelieving eyes darted here and there.  She got on her hands and knees
and peered up under her sister's butt, about the time Mary lay down on
Bobby, to kiss him while his prick in her pussy gave her a long, almost
painful orgasm as it punished her cervix.

   "He's IN you!" gasped Bev, much too loudly.

   "Shhhhh," cautioned Bobby, who was humping up into Mary as her pussy
rippled around his prick.

   "But ...  you're ...  fucking!" whispered Bev, astonishment clear in her
whisper.

   "I know that," panted Bobby.

   "Awwwwwww," whined Mary, her hips twitching rapidly as she rubbed her
clit against his pubic bone.

   "But ...  you've never DONE that before!" yipped Bev, watching her
sister's stretched hole clasping Bobby's thick prick.

   "It sort of happened the other day," panted Bobby.

   Mary fell limp, and kissed Bobby's chest and shoulder.

   "I needed that so bad," she moaned.  Her head turned to her sister, but
all she could see was Bev's naked buttocks.

   Mary rolled away from Bev, who watched Bobby's still stiff prick slide
out of her sister's pussy.  She couldn't believe it had all fit up inside
there, where just a finger filled her own pussy completely.  Mary went to
her knees on the floor, and looked past Bobby's shiny prick at her sister's
face.

   "You can't tell anybody," Mary whispered.  "I was going crazy.  I had
to."

   "I won't tell," said Bev, her wide eyes staring at the penis that had
been stuffed up in her sister only moments before.

   "You want to cum now?" asked Bobby, looking at Bev.

   "I don't know," she whispered.  The idea of climbing on him, and rubbing
her pussy against that thing ...  even though she'd done it dozens of times
before ...  made her feel queasy.  It had been inside Mary!  Seeing him
fucking Prudence hadn't affected her quite the same way.  That had been
quick, and she had been distracted by her concern for Constance.  This
seemed so much more personal, somehow.

   She finally looked up at Bobby's face.

   "You won't put it in me ...  will you?"

   "Of course not," he said, smiling.  "Not if you don't want me to."

   "I don't want you to," she said, looking earnest.

   "OK," said Bobby.

   "But I'm still horny," she said.

   "You tell me what you want," he said.

   "I don't want to sit on it," she said, nervously.  "Would you just use
your finger, tonight?"

   "Sure," he said, holding out his arms.  "Come here."

   He didn't do anything at all to her, at first, except kiss her and
stroke her back.  Before long her own ardor pushed the fear of him away,
and she was arching toward him.  He sucked her tender nipples, and dug his
finger into her until she flopped back, lifting her hips.

   Mary wasn't finished, though.  She pulled Bobby up off the bed, and lay
beside her limp sister, spreading her legs.  Bev rolled her head.

   "You're going to do it again?" she panted.

   "It makes me feel so much better," moaned Mary.  "I was pulling my hair
out, but I feel so much better with him in me."

   Bobby climbed on and Bev got up on her side to watch, as he fisted his
prick and brought it to the pussy lips of her sister.  Her eyes got bigger
and bigger as he slid that long, hard thing into Mary.  Mary's groan of
satisfaction was obviously a happy one, with no hint of pain or discomfort.

   "I feel so stuffed," she moaned.

   "Does it hurt?" asked Bev.

   "Oh hell no," moaned Mary.  "I never want it to end!"

   Bev watched then, as Bobby started sawing that thing in and out of Mary,
who thrust her pussy up, as he went in, and let her butt relax on the bed
as he pulled out, until there was a wet slapping sound as they sped up. 
When Mary came, her head flopped back and forth and she babbled, mixed up
words that didn't go together, but were plain English just the same.

   Bobby went in all the way and stopped, grunting twice.  He pulled out
and slammed in again, and grunted again.  Then he started fucking her
again, just like he had been.  Bev watched as a thick ring of white built
up around the base of his prick, and she realized that the white goo he
usually spurted into the air, or into Mary's mouth ...  the stuff she had
tasted ...  was now spurting up inside her sister.

   Tuesday night was the same.  Bev watched as Bobby's prick skewered Mary,
and spurted her full of spunk.  When Bobby pulled out of her, her pussy
mouth was full to overflowing with thick white goo.  Again, when it was
Bev's turn, she wanted his finger, instead of letting her pussy touch his
spermy prick.

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

   Jill worked eight to four at the Wagon Wheel Cafe.  She was the only
waitress, between the hours of eight in the morning and about
eleven-thirty, when another woman came in to help with the lunch rush. 
That woman stayed after Jill left, at four.

   What ruined her Wednesday had happened at ten-thirty, when Mark, her
ex-husband, sashayed into the diner with Nancy Vickers on his arm.  Jill
hadn't seen Nancy since that night in the alley, when Nancy's pale breasts,
and Mark's face pressed against them, had started their divorce.  That had
been four months ago.  It wasn't that Mark brought Nancy in that ruined her
day.  It was that Nancy was obviously at least six months pregnant.  Jill
had wanted to have kids immediately, when she married Mark Trimble, but he
had not.  He consistently used rubbers, when they had sex, no matter what
she did.  It was suddenly pretty clear to Jill that, when she'd seen them
necking in the alley, Nancy was already pregnant with his baby.

   Mark stopped at the counter, his arm around Nancy, and called out to
Sal, the owner and cook at the Wagon Wheel.

   "Isn't there some other waitress that could wait on us?" he yelled.  He
knew quite well that Jill was the only waitress in the place.  There were
only four other customers in the there.

   "Just because she divorced you don't mean she's not a good waitress,"
said Sal, taking up Jill's cause.

   "I'm just afraid she'll do something to the food.  Nancy here is knocked
up with my baby, and I don't want nothing to happen to it.  I been wanting
a baby for a long time.  That bitch just couldn't give me one."

   Jill bit her tongue.  She couldn't believe he'd said it.  He'd always
been snide, and mean, both to her and to others.  His own friends, in High
School hadn't even been immune from his cruel taunts.  He'd been a bully
then, though she had thought of him as being strong and commanding.  What
she saw now was exactly the same thing, and she recognized it for what it
was.

   "You want to eat or not?" asked Sal.  "Doesn't make any difference to
me. Jill's my waitress."

   "Well, that's good, 'cause she needs a job.  There ain't no way in hell
no man will touch a slut like her," said Mark cruelly.  "She'll never get
no man to knock her up, like sweet little Nancy here."

   "You know what, Mark?" said Sal, stepping to the counter.  "You see that
sign on the wall?  Right over there?" He pointed.  The sign, in big block
lettering, said "We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone".  "I
don't think you came here to eat, so get out."

   "Fuck you, Sal," said Mark, swaggering.

   "But I'm hungry, baby," complained Nancy.

   "Shut up," he said casually.  "You're always hungry, or always pissing.
At least you're not diseased, like my bitch ex-wife!" He turned around. 
The other four customers, all men, were staring at him.  "That's right,
men!" he yelled.  "Spread the word.  That bitch gave me the clap.  That's
why I threw her out.  I wouldn't even eat here, if I were you!"

   Sal, in a rage, almost caught him, before he dragged Nancy back out the
door.

   "And don't ever come back!" yelled Sal, at their backs, as they hurried
off down the sidewalk.

   Sal turned to find Jill standing there with tears in her eyes.

   "Don't listen to him, Jill, said Sal, who had a bit of a crush on Jill,
but firmly treated her like she was his niece.  "He's a prick." He turned
to his customers, all of whom were regulars.  They were already back to
eating, or drinking coffee, or reading the newspaper, like usual.  He
wasn't worried about them.  He was just glad the bastard hadn't done that
during the lunch rush.

   She had to finish her shift.  There were no spare waitresses to call in,
to give her time to get it out of her system.  Sal apologized, and, for
probably the twentieth time, said he'd try to hire another waitress, so
that the two of them he did have would have some options, in situations
like this.  For the rest of the day Jill Trimble did a lot of thinking,
though, and not all of it was very rational.

   Then, on Thursday, Bobby Dalton walked into the diner.

   "I have your stuff all repaired," he said, smiling at her.

   "I can't leave now," she said.  "Have a seat and I'll get you a cinnamon
roll and a cup of coffee."

   "Sounds great," said Bobby.

   She got the order and brought it to him.  She placed it on the table,
bending, just like she always did.  Her uniform showed a lot of cleavage.
She got better tips when she wore a uniform tailored like that.  She saw
his eyes go to that cleavage, and then move away.

   "I can just give you the key to my house," she said.  "If you don't
mind."

   "That would be fine," he said.  "I'll just put everything back where I
got it from."

   "How much is it?" she asked.

   "How much do you have?" He grinned.

   She looked in her pocket.  There were five ones, and a dozen quarters.
She pulled it all out.  "Not enough," she said.  "I'll get my purse, while
you're gone, and have more for you."

   "I'll take the five ones," he said.

   "Bobby," she said.  "It's worth more than that."

   "I didn't have to spend much time doing any actual work.  Most of it was
letting the glue dry," he said.  "You're a struggling waitress, and I don't
gouge pretty women, remember?" He grinned.

   When he brought her keys back, his smile made her want to wiggle.  She'd
been attracted to him in the square, the first time she'd seen him.  She'd
been even more impressed when he fixed her washer.

   "That your boyfriend?" asked Sal, after Bobby left.

   "Him?" she said.  "No, he's my handyman.  You know I don't have a
boyfriend!"

   "Treats you a lot better than your ex," said Sal.

   "I'm not getting married again, Sal," she said darkly.  "So don't get
your hopes up."

   "Sure thing," he said.  "You going to pay for his cinnamon roll?"

   "Yes," she said, frostily.  While she put enough quarters from her tip
money in the till to pay for what Bobby had eaten, she thought about men in
general, and Sal, Mark and Bobby, in particular.

   She did a lot more thinking the rest of that day.

   She called Bobby that night.

   Matilda answered the phone, and got her brother, who was playing
Scrabble with Mamma, Suzie and Linda.

   "Hello?" he said into the phone.

   "It's Jill," she said.

   "Don't tell me a chair broke," he said, teasing.

   "No," she said.  She sounded strange, like she was upset.  "Do you
remember all those other things we talked about you fixing?"

   "Yeah," he said.

   "Could you come over Saturday morning?"

   "Actually, I can't," he said.  "My sister is getting married Saturday."

   "Oh." She sounded disappointed ...  almost angry.

   "Are you OK?" he asked.

   "I'm fine," she said, no emotion in her voice.  "How about the Saturday
after that?  I want to do this on a day I don't have to go to work."

   "I can come that Saturday," said Bobby.  "What are you going to want me
to do?"

   "I don't know yet.  We can discuss that when you get here."

   "All right, I'll see you then."

   "OK," she said.  The line went dead.

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

   Wednesday and Thursday nights followed the same new pattern that had
started Monday.  Both nights Bev stared, as her brother's thick penis sank
inside of Mary's clasping pussy, and left it messy with white sperm.

   Familiarity with the process began to make it seem less traumatic ... 
less dangerous looking.  Bev lost her fear of that penis, and began riding
it again, paying particular attention when, as she rocked forward, the big
knob sunk into her own pussy mouth, and stretched it a little.  Then she'd
push back, and let that knob scrape her clitty.  She was sure she could do
that for an hour, if they'd let her.  But she almost always went first,
now, so that when she was done, and Bobby was still hard as stone, he could
fuck Mary almost senseless, before spurting in her.  When Bev went too
long, though, it was no real problem.  All Bobby had to do was pull her
down and suck a tender, sensitive nipple, and she invariably went off like
the fireworks at the 4th of July celebration, so recently seen.

   On Friday night, though, the night before the wedding ...  only Bev
showed up.

   "She can't come," whispered Bev.  "Mamma is keeping her up for last
minute plans.  Flo is in there with them too." Flo, who Mary had lived with
all her life, was going to be Mary's Maiden of Honor.

   "It's OK," said Bobby.  "You can go as long as you like, tonight."

   "Goody," she whispered, climbing on him for a long kiss.

   She did go for an hour that time, cumming four times.  She went so long
that he couldn't cum.  She sucked him, then, and jacked on him.  When he
said he was about to spurt, though, she stood up and lowered her pussy,
holding his prick up so that it would spurt on her pussy lips.  That was as
close as she could bring herself to doing what Mary had done.  When she
felt his spunk hitting her, she lowered her pussy lips against him, to see
what it felt like for that warm, gooey mess to be right there, where her
pussy lips hugged it.

   "Careful," he panted, as his prick spat twice more.

   "I'm not putting it in me," she gasped, feeling his warmth surge up into
her pussy channel, where her lips sealed against him.  "Besides," she
moaned, loving that feel, "you squirted in Mary lots."

   "She's getting married tomorrow," he hissed.  "If I got her pregnant,
Fred will just think it's his.  You shouldn't get that inside you!"

   Her hips shot up in the air, as her legs straightened and she stood,
looking down at her pussy lips, which were dripping long drops of white
sperm back down on him.  She hadn't thought of that at all!

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

   It was a perfect day for a wedding.  It was partly cloudy, which meant
the sun's intense heat was held at bay, yet the day was bright with
promise. The Oddfellows hall, which had been the least expensive to rent,
but was still nice, was filling up with Fred's family.  Prudence was there,
in a dress made by Mirriam, to fit her pregnant form, and Constance sat
with the girls who weren't in the ceremony.  Only Flo and Bev were standing
up with Mary.  Linda and Suzie were taking care of the gifts, and Matilda
and Betty manned the guest book, using their natural charm and cute looks
to encourage people to fill out every block in the book.

   Bobby was also acting as an usher.  They weren't seating people based on
whether they had come to see the bride, or groom, because the groom's side
would have made the bride's side seem empty.  They just took people as far
forward as they could.  Mirriam was already sitting in the front row, on
the opposite side of Fred's parents.  Bobby was scheduled to walk Marry
down the aisle, but Mirriam was going to give her away.

   A nervous and full-of-energy Florence hurried up to Bobby, as he came
back from seating a family.

   "She wants you to come to her dressing room now," she said.

   Bobby checked his watch.  "It's half an hour too early," he said.

   "She insisted," said Flo.  "I think she's getting scared, or something."

   "You guys were supposed to play Scrabble with her, to distract her," he
said.

   "We tried, but she wouldn't play.  She's been pacing for ten minutes. 
Then she said she wanted you there."

   Bobby followed his second oldest sister to the room that had been set
aside for the bride.  Mary turned, when he came in.

   She was so beautiful that it hurt his heart.  She had offered to let her
mother make her wedding dress, but Mirriam had demurred, both because it
would take so long, and because, while she was quite adept at making
shirts, and pants and dresses, a wedding gown was, in her opinion, beyond
her skills.  Carefully hoarded money had been used to buy the gown Mary was
wearing.  Her shoulders were bare, and the straps that held the bodice of
the gown up were thin.  The neck scooped low enough that her cleavage
showed plainly, with pearls along the edge that seemed to frame that
cleavage.  Her hair was done up, with pearls and tiny flowers woven through
it.  That had been done by Madge Carlisle, who ran the beauty shop in town.
The barest hint of eye shadow, a little rouge, and a touch of lipstick were
all the makeup she wore.  She looked like a dream, with the exception of
the anxious look on her face.

   "Am I doing the right thing?" she asked instantly, when she saw him.

   "Of course you are," he said, calmly.

   "You two!" she said, looking first at Bev and then Flo.  "I want to talk
to Bobby alone."

   "But ..." Flo said, closing her mouth as Bev grabbed her elbow and
pulled her toward the door.

   "Just wait outside for a minute," said Mary.  "Don't let anybody bother
us."

   "Gotcha," said Bev, a half smile on her face.

   When the door closed, Mary didn't move.  "I feel so scared," she said.

   "It's normal," said Bobby.

   "Make me feel better, Bobby," she said.

   He smiled.  "Sweet heart, you're getting married in half an hour. 
You're in your wedding dress.  You have makeup on."

   "You can just lift my dress," she said.  "I'm so nervous, Bobby.  I'll
screw everything up!"

   "Come on, Mary," he said, softly.  "You can do this."

   "I needed you last night," she moaned.  "But Mamma kept me up, and then
Flo wanted to talk.  Please, Bobby.  One last time.  We won't be able to do
it after I get married, and you always calm me down so well."

   "You can't lie down in that dress," he said.  "And you can't take it off
either."

   "I'm going crazy!" she hissed.  "Isn't there another way?"

   Bobby thought of the other ways he'd taken women.  He'd never done Mary
that way, but it might work.

   "Put your hands on the back of that chair, and bend over," he said.

   She did, and he walked behind her, to lift the voluminous folds of the
dress and lay them on her back, exposing her garter belt, and the panties
that went on over it.  He pulled the panties down, and she stepped out of
them delicately, leaving her butt bare.  Her pussy peeked out from between
her legs.

   Bobby unzipped.  Seeing her like that had gotten him started, and all he
had to do was stroke it a few times, and he was straight and hard.  Putting
one hand on her hip, he stepped up and held his prick to her pussy lips. 
She was already wet, and he slid in effortlessly.

   "Ohhhhh yesss, that's what I need," she moaned, pushing her butt back at
him.

   He stroked a few times, holding her hips.

   "It feels different," she sighed.  "It feels good, but I don't think I
can cum this way."

   Bobby knew he couldn't reach her clit, and still thrust into her.

   "I'm going to pull your top down just enough to get to your breasts," he
said.

   She helped, sliding one strap off her shoulder, while he did the other.
Her breasts fell free of the built in bra that lined the bodice of the
dress, and hung, as he fondled them.  Finding her nipples, he squeezed and
pulled at them, fucking strongly.

   "Oh yessss," she whined.  "That's going to do it Bobbeeeeee."

   He pounded her and tortured her nipples until he felt her pussy start
spasming and she moaned that she loved him.  He couldn't resist giving her
one last load of brother spunk, and held himself in her deeply as he
spurted five strong jets of sperm into her.

   "Don't move," he said, pulling out.  He put himself away first, and then
stooped to get her panties back on, and pulled them up.  Then he told her
to stand up, and she turned to face him, letting him put her breasts back
in her gown, and straighten the straps.

   "I want to kiss you," she said, her eyes full of passion.  "It would
mess up my lipstick, though."

   "I know," he said.  He looked at his watch.  "It's almost time."

   "I'm going to miss you," she said, looking at him coyly.

   "You're going to get fucked three times a day, if not more, for the next
week," he said grinning.  "I don't think you'll miss me a bit."

   "I'm going to do all the things to him that you taught me," she said.

   "Go slowly," he cautioned.  "Just tell him what you like, when he does
it.  You can think up new things to try as time goes on."

   There was a tapping knock on the door.

   "Mary!" came Flo's tense voice.

   Mary opened the door, and took Bobby's arm.  She smiled, at Flo's
anxious face.  Bev was just smiling.

   "I told her not to worry," said Bev, winking.

   "I'm fine, now," said Mary.  "Bobby always knows how to calm me down."

   They walked to the double doors that led into the hall.  One of the
ushers made a sign, through the door, and the piano player began to play
the music.  Flo went first, and then Bev.  Fred's niece, a three year old
girl, skipped down the aisle, to stop, and dump her basket of rose petals,
instead of throwing them, a few at a time, and the congregation laughed. 
There was no ring-bearer, and the music changed.

   With a smile on her face, and her brother's sperm soaking into her womb,
the bride stepped lightly down the aisle, her eyes pinned on Fred Brogan,
who was grinning like an idiot.  All Bobby felt, as she left him, was a
quick squeeze on his biceps, and she stepped to stand by Fred.

   Bobby sat down by his mother, and watched his oldest sister get married.

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

   Prudence requested that he escort her home.  When they got there, she
hugged him, as well as she could.

   "Weddings always make me so horny," she moaned, unbuttoning her new
dress.  She laid it carefully on the bed, and turned to find Bobby naked,
his prick standing out in salute to her.

   "What would I have ever done without you," she sighed, pulling him to
the bed.

   "You'd still have your girlish figure, for one thing," he said, reaching
his lips to suck at a nipple that was now even bigger and darker than when
he'd first met her.

   "I love my figure," she sighed, sinking down onto him.  "I love what
you've done to my figure."

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

   That night, when Bev came to his room, she was still feeling the effects
of seeing her sister get married too.  She climbed into bed with Bobby and
snuggled up against him, pressing her breasts to his side.

   "She's doing this with Fred, right now," she whispered.

   "She's doing lots more than this," said Bobby, smiling.

   "I know," said Bev.  "Even after watching you do it with her, it's hard
to believe."

   "It's hard for me to believe too," he said.

   "That's two women I've seen you do it to," said Bev.

   Bobby didn't respond to that, except to stroke her back.

   "You did it in that room too, didn't you?" she asked.  "Before she got
married."

   "Yes," he said.

   "I knew it," she said smugly.  "I could tell by her face, when she
opened the door."

   "You know how she is," said Bobby.  "She was all fired up, and I just
calmed her down, that's all."

   "If I ever get married, you can do it to me too," she said.

   He stared into her eyes, and kissed her.

   "Let's see how you feel when you decide to get married," he said.

   "OK," she said.  "Can I suck you, tonight?"

   "Sure," he said.

   "If Mary can swallow it all, I can too," she said, getting on her hands
and knees.

   "Hang on a minute," he said.  He pulled her until her knees were
straddling his face, and he could pull her pussy down to his mouth.

   "What are you do ...  ohhhhhh Bobbeeeeeee," she moaned, as he sucked at
her pussy lips.

   They spent the next half hour drinking each other's nectar.

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

   Monday morning, Tilly called the house, and said she needed a loose
doorknob repaired.

   "You'd think a woman could fix her own loose doorknob!" said Flo, who
had answered the phone.  Mirriam was at work, so Flo felt like she was in
charge.

   Bobby rode his bike over to Tilly and Jake's house.  Jake let him in.

   "She's in the bedroom," he said.  "It didn't work last month."

   "You're a hell of a man, Jake," said Bobby.

   "Kid, I could never repay you for what you done for me if I lived a
hundred years.  Just try not to have too much fun, OK?" He smiled, wanly.

   "Yes sir," said Bobby.

   Tilly was, indeed, in the bedroom.  She was lying on the bed, naked, and
was playing with herself.

   "You took your sweet time," she moaned.

   "I had to ride my bike," he said.

   "Well get up here and ride me.  You didn't do a very good job last
month!"

   "I'll try to do better this time," he said.

   He stayed long enough to give her two helpings of his babymakers, and
propped a pillow under her butt, before he left.

   Tilly made it a full week.  He took care of her every morning that week,
repeating what he had done for her Monday.  Then, if he had work to do in
town that afternoon, he went to the Wagon Wheel for lunch.  Jill waited on
him each day too.  Her smiles were genuine.  She didn't chat with him any
more than she chatted with any other customer, but she didn't seem upset.
She only reminded him twice that he was coming over Saturday morning.

   On Wednesday, he didn't have any jobs in town, so, after lunch, he went
to Prudence's house.  Constance answered the door, and gave him a hug.

   "Are you here to see Mamma?" she asked.

   "I thought I'd drop by," he said.

   "She's in a bad mood," she said.  "She's been crotchety all day."

   "Maybe I should come back later," said Bobby.

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

   Prudence was heartfelt in her welcome of Bobby.  With not a blush, she
told Constance they needed some privacy, and took Bobby to her bedroom. 
She complained that her feet hurt, and he rubbed them.  She complained that
her back hurt, and he massaged that.  She complained that she was fat and
ugly, and Bobby made love to her, taking her from behind, while she was on
all fours.  He left her napping, on her side, her hand draped over the
bulging belly that held their baby.

   When he left the bedroom, Constance was in the living room, reading a
book.  She looked up.

   "She's feeling much better, now," said Bobby.

   "I thought maybe she would," said Constance.

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

   On Friday, after Tilly was overflowing with Bobby's sperm, he went back
home, because he had no jobs to do that day.  He saw Prudence's car in the
driveway.  She and his mother were in the kitchen, getting jars and lids
out of boxes, and sorted, getting ready for the canning that would take
place in a few weeks.

   Prudence perked up when he walked in.

   "Bobby could give us a man's opinion," she said to Mirriam.

   "Him?  I'm not going to wear that thing in front of my son!"

   "Why not?  He's a man." Prudence's comment wasn't intended to be lewd,
but Prudence's bulging belly couldn't help but punctuate it.

   "What are you two up to now?" asked Bobby.

   "As you know," said Prudence, "Ted Brandywine is taking us on a picnic
tomorrow.  We went shopping for swimming suits." She looked up at him. 
"You can't find anything in the stores except bikinis these days."

   "That would be interesting," said Bobby, his eyes lighting up.

   "We need a man's opinion, before we go off and do something stupid with
Ted."

   "You're planning on doing something stupid with Ted?" asked Bobby,
grinning.  "Together?"

   "Wearing that suit would be stupid for me!" snorted his mother.  "The
first time I put it on I felt more naked wearing it than I did when I was
actually naked!"

   "Well, you know how times change," said Bobby, trying to imagine his
mother in a bikini.

   "If I can drape a couple of pieces of cloth over me that don't cover
this," said Prudence, running her hands over her pregnant belly, "then you
have nothing to complain about."

   "I'd be happy to help," said Bobby, hopefully.

   "No way!" said Mirriam.

   "Come on," said Prudence.  "We'll go put them on, and then you'll see
how silly I look, and how sexy you look, and it won't be so bad."

   "I don't want to look sexy," moaned Mirriam.  "Especially not in front
of my son!"

   "Bobby promises to look at you only as a woman, and not his mother,
right, dear?"

   She turned her face to Bobby, who was grinning inanely, and nodding his
head.

   "See?" crooned Prudence.  "He'll just take a quick peek, and tell us
whether we both look foolish, and should just wear shorts and T-shirts into
the water."

   The way that was phrased appealed to Mirriam's state of mind, which was
that wearing the bikini would make her look fat and ugly.  She wanted
someone to counsel her not to wear it, and to cover up instead.  She let
herself be dragged to her bedroom, and closed the door after them.

   Bobby decided to wait by the door, since Prudence might not be able to
get his mother actually leave the room.  He figured that, once the door
opened, he might get a glimpse, even if his Mamma was trying to hide.  He
heard murmurs through the door, but couldn't understand what was being
said. It seemed like a long time before anything happened, but he waited,
anticipation at seeing both women keeping him there.

   When the door opened, Prudence was there.  She saw Bobby and quickly put
her finger to her lips.

   "Come on, Mirriam," she argued.  "I'm telling you it's not that bad. 
Look at me.  If I can let him see me like this, you have nothing to worry
about."

   "He's seen you NAKED, Prudence, and you know it!" growled his mother. 
"He's never seen me anywhere like I am right now!  This is just ridiculous,
I'm telling you!"

   "Just come out into the hall, and I'll call him.  He can look at us from
down the hall.  Just a quick peek is all we need to give him."

   "Oh all right!" snarled Mirriam.  "I don't know why I let you talk me
into buying this stupid thing, and I SURE don't know why I'm listening to
you now.  Just in the hallway, do you hear me?"

   "I hear you.  Here ...  I'll go first, so I can call him."

   Prudence opened the door as Bobby scooted up the hall, while she went
down the hall.  His mother stuck her head out, peering at Prudence.  She
didn't think to look the other way, and stepped out into the hallway on
bare tiptoes.

   Bobby, who had been staring at Prudence, couldn't decide which woman to
look at, when his mother came into the hallway.  Prudence's suit was bright
canary yellow, and, other than being full of mature flesh, looked almost
sedate, by comparison to the one Mirriam was wearing, which was white, with
dark blue polka dots on it.  Both suits covered all of the women's butts,
more or less, but the sides of Mirriam's were more exposed than Prudence's.
Bobby hadn't seen the front yet.  Both bottoms had high-rise sides. 
Prudence's had bows on the sides, but it was clear they were for looks
only, and didn't actually hold it on.  Both women's bottoms packed the
lower part of their suit full, but it was also obvious that neither woman
was fat, in the classical sense of the word.  Prudence's top was held on by
a thin string that crossed her back and did tie, while Mirriam's had a
solid piece of polka dotted material crossing her back, with strings over
her shoulders.

   "Bobby?" called Prudence, down the hall, toward the kitchen.

   "Yes?" he said, right behind his mother.

   She jumped a foot off the ground, and whirled.  Bobby's eyes were glued
to her breasts, which swung past the point where the rest of her stopped,
and bounced back, to quiver in what was obviously not enough material to
appropriately cover a woman of her maturity.  The entire inner slopes of
her breasts were exposed.  Her breasts, heavy and full from feeding eight
babies, were also obviously being held up by the bikini bra, and would have
ridden three inches lower, if she were naked.  Basically, the suit cradled
her luscious melons, and put them on display.

   "Why you ...!" squealed Mirriam.

   Bobby's eyes dropped to her stomach, which was rounded and pooched a
little, like Prudence's had, before he stretched it with his baby.  He
wanted to kiss that soft looking flesh.  The bottoms covered her
adequately. In all, it looked like she had gotten a suit where the bottom
fit her perfectly, and the top was a couple of sizes too small.

   His mother started to yell at him, and he held up a hand.

   "Hush!" he said firmly.  "I've seen you.  Now I need to see Prudence."

   Prudence walked back up the hallway, her hips rolling.  She was used to
Bobby looking at her ...  appreciating her ...  lusting after her.  She was
showing off, and he knew it.  Her yellow suit went perfectly with her black
hair, and dark eyebrows.  Her breasts had already swelled, along with her
womb, and bulged white, with blue veins flickering across the exposed
flesh. Her suit actually covered more skin than his mother's, but
Prudence's breasts were even bigger, and made the suit look just as small.
His eyes went to the bottoms, and, even though the cloth was dry, he could
see the hint of her black pubic hair through it.  He knew that when it got
wet, that hair would be plain.  Her belly, smooth and gently rounded,
simply punctuated her femininity, showing the world a woman who was all
woman, and in the condition women had been created to be in.

   He folded his arms.  There was no way in the world that either woman
should appear in public in these outfits.  Every man within a mile would
stampede toward them, snarling and slavering, pulling out stiffened pricks,
waving them in the air, like some ancient mating ritual, trying to attract
the attention of the women.

   Bobby realized he was hard as stone, and looked down.  There was a long
line across his jeans, proof of his arousal, and plainly visible.

   He looked up to see his mother staring at his loins, her mouth open.

   "Ladies," he said, somewhat breathily.  "I can promise you this.  If you
go swimming with Ted, tomorrow, in those swim suits, you will own him.  He
will be your slave for life.  He will follow you around like a puppy dog,
whimpering for a touch, or a look."

   Mirriam's eyes dragged away from his crotch, and she looked at him.  Her
mouth went closed slowly, and he saw the beginnings of her blush at the
exposed tops of her breasts.  He watched, fascinated as the pink tint crept
upward, staining her neck, and then her cheeks.

   "We should wear them?" asked Prudence, sounding suddenly timid.

   "Ohhhh yeahhhh," he sighed.  "I have to tell you though ...  you'll have
to agree to share him."

   "What?!" yipped Mirriam.

   "Once he sees you both, he'll have to have you both.  It won't be up for
a vote.  He couldn't make a decision between you if his life depended on
it. I know this because I couldn't either."

   "But ...  I'm pregnant!" squealed Prudence.

   "You're gorgeous," he sighed.  "You make ME want to be pregnant.  Every
woman in the country should look like you."

   "But ..." his mother started.

   "And you ..." he said, interrupting her.  "I understand Joe, now.  I
understand completely why he couldn't stay away ...  why he couldn't resist
you.  You're so beautiful it makes my heart ache."

   She blushed more furiously, and, for whatever reason, her hands came up
to cover her breasts.  Her hands were completely inadequate, though, much
too small to cover her big orbs.  She did feel naked.  The look in her own
son's eyes was the same thing she had always seen in Joe's eyes ...  the
thing that had made her want to throw her clothes away forever ...  the
thing that made her pant to be naked with him ...  to spread herself open
for him ...  to be filled by him.  She had known, when Joe looked at her,
that she was a sexy, desirable woman.

   Now, years later, she knew it again.

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

   Mirriam basically fled back into the bedroom.  Prudence came on up the
hall and clasped Bobby to her for a long, deep, passionate kiss.  Mirriam's
arm snaked out of the door, grabbed Prudence's arm, and hauled her into the
room, slamming the door.

   Bobby had gone back down to the kitchen, to get a snack.  It took twenty
minutes, but his mother finally came back down, dressed as she had been
when he got home.  She averted her eyes, when he looked at her.  She was
still somewhat pink looking.  Prudence came in, looking happy, also dressed
again.  He decided not to ask what decision they had made.  Instead, he got
up and went to hug his mother.

   She resisted, at first, but then couldn't any more, and clasped him in a
heartfelt embrace.

   "I wasn't teasing you," he whispered.  "You're the most beautiful woman
in the world, as far as I'm concerned."

   Her loins bumped his, as she squeezed him extra hard for a second.

   "Now, I need to leave," he said.  "I want to kiss you really, really
bad."

   She skipped back from him, pushing with her hands to help her, looking
anxious.

   He smiled, and turned around.

   "Miz Harris?" he said politely.  "Could I have a word with you in
private?"

   "Of course," she dimpled.  "What about?"

   "I have some information on the shutters you were interested for, on the
front of the house.  I thought we might talk about that."

   "I'd love to," she said, beaming.

   She followed him out of the kitchen, and Mirriam, still completely
flummoxed by what had happened, started preparations for making cookies. 
She was right in the middle of stirring the dough with a wooden spoon, when
it occurred to her that talking about shutters didn't require privacy.

   Bowl on one arm, and spoon in the other hand, she marched to Bobby's
room, which she somehow knew they'd be in.  She heard Prudence's moans
through the door, and stuck the spoon in the dough, leaving her hand free
to turn the knob and push.

   Prudence was bent over, her hands resting on Bobby's bed, her dress
flipped up on her back, and her panties around one ankle.  Bobby, his jeans
around his knees, was lunging into her from behind.

   Mirriam watched long for understanding to take place, deep in her brain,
that Prudence was, at that moment, one of the happiest women in the world.
She couldn't fault the woman for wanting what was happening, and enjoying
it too.  Seeing it, though, caused a longing in Mirriam that she did not
welcome.  She backed out the door, intending to pull it closed.  Her hand
was shaking, though, and she knew she'd make a noise if she tried to close
the door.  She left it ajar, two inches, and backed into the hallway.

   She felt light headed as she returned to the kitchen.  Was this what Bev
had seen him doing?  And Constance?  The poor dears.  They must be in
turmoil.  SHE was certainly in turmoil.  She felt the ache in her loins
that she hadn't felt for a dozen years ...  the ache that she always felt
when Joe knocked on the door.  Even after giving her six daughters, before
he gave her the seventh, he had knocked politely on the door, asking to
come in.  He hadn't been back ten minutes before she was trying desperately
to conceive that seventh girl.

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

   Bobby rode his bike to Jill's.  His mother had still been all upset
about the picnic she was going on with Prudence and Ted.  He knew that,
because she had burned the pancakes she served him that morning.  He hoped
she calmed down enough to have some fun.

   He had an assortment of tools in his bag, because he wasn't quite sure
what he was going to work on.  Jill met him at the door in exactly the same
outfit she had been wearing the last time he came over.  Since he had made
specific comments about that outfit, he knew she was up to something.

   "What do you want me to work on?" he asked.

   "I don't care," she said.  "I didn't actually get you here to do any
work."

   "Oh?" He set his tool bag down.

   What Jill Trimble wanted, since about noon, the previous Wednesday, was
to parade in front of Mark Trimble ...  pregnant.  Mark, while he was
married to her, had been the stereotypical jealous husband.  Part of her
mistake was letting him get in her panties before she walked down the
aisle. He assumed she'd let others do the same thing.  When they first got
married, he'd asked her over and over again if she'd done this, or that,
with anybody else.  After they were married, he'd berated her if she even
talked to another man, or looked at one for more than a few seconds. 
During one shouting match he'd called her a slut.  What hurt the most was
the fact that Mark wouldn't even try to get her pregnant, while he
obviously tried to do exactly that while he cheated with Nancy.  His lies
at the diner proved, to her mind, that he was still insanely jealous of any
other man paying attention to her, even though they were no longer married.


   So she was quite convinced that, if she got pregnant, especially if she
wasn't married to anybody, it would be what would hurt him most.  And the
last thing she wanted to do was get married again.  She was a firm believer
in the old adage "Fool me once ...  shame on you.  Fool me twice ...  shame
on me."

   It was a half baked plan ...  one born of frustration, anger, and the
spirit of revenge.  She knew she was good looking.  She'd already been hit
on a number of times since her divorce, but the men who hit on her were not
suitable, in her estimation, to help her with her plan for revenge.  She
couldn't just go out and troll in bars.  She was not, despite Mark's
conviction that she was, a slut.  It was while she was serving a young man
who came into the diner that she thought about the handsome young man who
had repaired her washing machine.

   Not only was he handsome, but he was a real gentleman too.  He'd looked
at her.  She'd caught him doing that a couple of times, though he didn't
leer, like the others.  He was honest about things too.  When he scolded
her about wearing revealing clothing, she'd been mad at him, at first, but
then she'd realized that what he'd said made sense.  She had no idea that,
once she'd decided to do this crazy thing, and started thinking about
finding a mate, that her basic female mind would look for the best genetic
standard in the tribe of men around her.  Bobby was the only man she'd met
who stood head and shoulders above the other candidates, in that way.  All
she knew was, that as time went on, she thought of him more than all the
others.

   What she didn't know was how to go about seducing him.  She'd never
tried to seduce anyone before.  It had always been the other way around. 
As a first step, she wore the clothing he'd warned her about wearing.  It
was an instinctive move.

   "What did you call me here to do?" asked Bobby.

   Now she was stuck.  He was here, and she was here.  She looked at him,
and her heart gave a little flutter.  He really WAS so handsome, and
strong. Her belly started fluttering too, as she looked at his hands, and
wondered what they'd feel like on her body.

   "Can't we just spend time together and have fun?" she asked, unable to
think of anything else to say.  With him so close, her mind was roiling and
it was hard to think.  Still, her voice had clear overtones that Bobby
recognized as being sexual.

   "Well, I suppose we could do that," he said, cocking his head.  "Except
you already told me that's not what you're interested in."

   "Can't a woman change her mind?" she asked, defensively.

   "Sure she can," said Bobby.  "Women do that all the time.  Sometimes
they even have a good reason for it."

   He was trying to lighten the mood, because, as she talked about having
fun, her demeanor was very, very serious.  Something strange was going on
here.  He could tell that.  It was almost like she was flirting with him,
except that she wasn't acting like any woman he'd ever seen while she
flirted.

   The joke flew right over her head.

   "I thought you liked this outfit," she said, looking nervous.

   "I do," he said.

   "Then don't you want to try to kiss me, or something?"

   He stared at her.

   "No," he said.

   "Why not?" she asked.  She looked less nervous now, but more confused.

   "Have you made any coffee this morning?" he asked.

   She blinked.  "No."

   "Well, go make some, and let's talk," he said.

   "I don't want to talk!" she said impatiently.  "I want to ..." She
didn't finish, not because there wasn't anything on her mind.  She didn't
finish because what was on her mind was so undefined that "get pregnant"
just sounded crazy.

   "OK," said Bobby, folding his arms across his chest.  "Then take off all
your clothes."

   "What?" Her eyes darted around.

   "Take off your clothes," Bobby repeated.  "I want to see you buck
naked."

   Bobby's choice of words was significant, in this case.  Mark, especially
when he'd been drinking, loved to say "I want to see you buck naked!"
Making her strip for him had been one of the games he had played that
established his dominion over her.  He had liked to order her around,
especially in the bedroom.

   She felt white hot rage suffuse her body and scowled ferociously.

   "I will NOT!" she almost yelled.

   "Then make some coffee," said Bobby, "and let's talk about whatever it
is that's gotten you all riled up."

   She wanted to throw him out.  He was ordering her around, just like Mark
had.  Her response, though, was complex.  When she stood there, and he
reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her, and then
giving her a gentle shove towards the kitchen, habit made her do exactly
what he was telling her to do.  Her mind was screaming not to do it, and
telling her to throw THIS bum out too, but it was so much easier, just like
it had been so much easier with Mark, to just do whatever it was he said to
do.  This war, within her, waged for a hundred and twenty seconds or so,
while her body went on autopilot, her hands reaching for the coffee filter,
and filling the carafe.  She punched the on button almost viscously, and
turned around to see him sitting calmly at the kitchen table.

   "Why don't you want to kiss me?" she demanded, out of frustration.

   "I didn't say I don't want to kiss you," he said.  "I said I wasn't
going to try to kiss you."

   "But you're a MAN!" she blurted.

   "Sit down," he said.

   "Don't tell me what to do!" she yelled.

   "Please sit down," he said, his face not changing.

   She wanted to scream.  Nothing was working out for her.  Mark was making
her crazy.  The men who leered at her were making her crazy.  THIS man was
making her crazy.  She'd held it all in, until now, and she felt panic as
she felt her eyes filling with tears.  She didn't want to cry in front of
this man, but she knew it was going to happen.  In a paroxysm of anger and
frustration, mixed with not a little fear that her whole world was
collapsing, she ran from the room, to her bedroom, slamming the door and
tumbling onto the bed, where she bawled.  She buried her face in the
pillow, and let it all come rushing out in long, body-shaking sobs.

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

   She had no idea how long she'd been submerged in the sea of self pity
that had tried to drown her, when she finally stopped crying, and rolled to
stare at the ceiling.  She had settled into a mood of darkness, disgusted
with almost everything, including herself.  While Mark wasn't the prize
she'd though he was, when she married him, she hadn't been able to keep
him. She couldn't understand why he'd want to get Nancy pregnant, but not
her, but that rejection was what hurt the most.  If she'd have been calm
enough to think about it logically, she'd have been relieved that he HADN'T
gotten her pregnant, since he was a piss poor husband, and would probably
make a piss poor father as well.  But she wasn't calm enough to do that,
and she moved on to berate herself for chasing away the nicest man she'd
met since she got divorced.  Bobby hadn't done anything wrong, but she'd
chased him away anyway.

   With a sigh, she dragged herself off the bed, and wandered, more or
less, back to the kitchen.  She almost staggered with surprise, when she
saw Bobby sitting at the table calmly, sipping from a cup.

   "I poured you a cup," he said.  "It might have cooled down a little too
much by now, though."

   She looked at the cup, sitting across the table from him.

   "You're still here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

   He made no comment, and just sipped from his cup again.

   "Why are you still here?" she asked, her voice louder.

   "You didn't actually ask me to leave," he said.  "If you want me to, I
will."

   "No!" she blurted, and then felt foolish.

   "OK," he said, not reacting to the emotion that had been in her voice.

   She had no idea what to do.  She didn't understand him at all.  She had
acted a fool ...  had run from the room like a little girl ...  but he had
stayed.  For lack of anything else to do, she sat down and took a sip from
the cup he'd poured.  It was cold, and she got up, dumped it in the sink,
and poured a fresh cup.  She sat down again, and tried to sip, but it was
too hot now.  With a sigh, she set the cup on the table.

   She glanced at him, her eyes almost bouncing off of him in their hurry
not to be caught looking at him.  It didn't work.  He was staring straight
at her face.

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

   "No," she said.  "It wouldn't do any good.  My whole life is fucked up."

   "I can't really disagree," he said.  "I don't really know you well
enough for that, but from where I sit, it looks like things might not be as
bad as they are for some."

   "What are you talking about?" she asked.

   "Well, you have a job, and a nice house.  You managed to get rid of a
loser husband.  You're still young and pretty, and you're intelligent. 
That's not such a bad hand to hold."

   In fifteen seconds he had pointed out five things about her that she
hadn't taken the time to appreciate.  She was almost shocked by his casual
references to the positive things in her life that she had forgotten about
during her pity party.

   "Why did you stay here?" she asked, impulsively.

   "I figured you needed somebody to talk to," he said.

   "You're the strangest man I've met in a long time," she said.

   "Why?" he asked.  "Just because I care?"

   "Why DO you care?" she asked, her voice tense.

   "I care about a lot of people," he said.  "Does it offend you that I
care about you?"

   "No," she said, defensively.  "I'm just surprised, that's all.  You
don't even know me."

   "That's another reason why I stayed," he said.  "I'd kind of like to get
to know you."

   "Why?" she asked.

   "I don't kiss women I don't know, or feel something for," he said.

   She blinked.  When he'd said he wouldn't kiss her, she'd just assumed he
was rejecting her.

   "I had a bad week," she said, finally, testing the waters.

   "Why don't you tell me about it," he suggested.

   She started haltingly ...  slowly ...  describing what had happened, and
how it made her feel.  Like a snowball rolling down hill, she gathered
momentum.  Her cry had helped, but this was like spewing out stomach
contents that were contaminated, and making her nauseous, and, by the time
she was finished, she felt like she'd vomited all over him.

   "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her mouth, unconsciously.  "I shouldn't
have taken it out on you."

   "I don't' mind," he said softly.  "You did have a bad week."

   Then, because she felt so comfortable with him, she told him the rest of
it ...  her plan for revenge ...  and why she had acted like she had acted
when he arrived.

   He smiled, and she felt terror that he was going to laugh at her, and
say something like "You really thought I'd WANT to make you pregnant?  You
silly slut!"

   But what he said was "I knew something was wrong.  You weren't acting
like yourself at all."

   Again she was amazed.  Instead of telling her what she WAS acting like,
he concentrated on who she really was.

   "That's a pretty poor reason to bring life into the world, you know," he
said, bursting her bubble.

   "I know," she said.  "It was a stupid idea."

   "It was a brilliant idea," he said, throwing her for another loop. 
"It's not a good reason to have a baby, but it's a brilliant idea.  I've
known guys like him, and it really would drive him crazy."

   "You think so?" she asked.

   "Oh yeah." He grinned.

   They sipped at the coffee for a little while.  She felt a lot more
comfortable, and a lot less tense and upset.

   "Can I ask you a question?" she said.

   "Sure."

   "I thought you thought I was ...  um ...  sexy," she said.

   "I do," he responded.

   "So, when I threw myself at you ...  why didn't you ..." She didn't
finish.

   "I told you.  I don't kiss women I don't care about.  A kiss is
something kind of special, to me.  Would you kiss a tree?"

   "No," she said, almost giggling at the thought.  "But you do think I'm
sexy?"

   "I've always thought you were sexy, even before I met you," he said.

   "How could you think I was sexy before you met me?" she asked, confused.

   "Your picture ...  at school," he explained.  "I had a lot of fantasies
about the girl in that picture."

   She remembered his comment, in the square, about seeing her picture at
school.  What ran through her mind was of a kid, staring at that picture,
like boys stared at pictures in Playboy.  She looked at Bobby.  He was no
kid.  Not by a long shot.  She felt the butterflies in her stomach again,
at the thought of this specimen of manhood dreaming about her.

   "I think you're kind of sexy too," she said, without thinking.

   He grinned.

   "So ...  what do we do now?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

   "I brought my tools," he said.

   She felt her mood dip, a little.  She knew he wasn't rejecting her, but
if felt like he was.  She gave herself a mental shake, and stood up to act
like an adult.

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

   They went through six little jobs, with him showing her what needed to
be done, and then either doing it himself, or having her do it.  She didn't
realize it, but, as he asked casual questions, he got most of her childhood
out of her, and a number of stories about her life as a high school
student. She hadn't gone to college, choosing instead to marry the
quarterback, right out of high school.  She realized now that that hadn't
been the smartest thing she'd ever done.  It was responsible for both her
failed marriage, and the job she was stuck in, and would probably be stuck
in forever.

   They took a break at lunch, and she fed him leftovers from the fridge.
He didn't complain, and she noticed that he spent a lot more time letting
his eyes roam around her body.  She didn't mind.  Not only that, she
enjoyed it.  It helped restore her self confidence.

   After lunch, there were only two more things that they could do that
day. Other repairs needed parts, or tools he hadn't brought with him.  The
last thing he tackled was a drain in the bathroom sink that was running
slowly.  It was in the bathtub.  He removed the drain cover and, with a
hanger, made a probe to go into the pipe.  He fished out a gooey glob of
hair that made her go pale.  She had to turn away, as he put it in the
stool and flushed it.

   "You should see my house," he joked.  "With eight women, I'm cleaning
out drains all the time."

   "How can you stand it?" she moaned, still feeling queasy.

   The drain still ran slow.  He plunged it, while she held a rag over the
overflow, to seal the system, but it didn't work.

   "I was afraid of that," he sighed.  "I'll have to go under the house."

   She had no idea where the entrance to the crawl space was, but he walked
around the house and found it easily.  When he had the panel removed, she
stared inside.

   "It's dark, and dirty in there," she said.

   "Yup."

   "You can't go in there," she moaned.  "There's bugs and all that under
there!"

   "Can't be helped," he said.

   She watched as he wiggled into the hole, and disappeared, dragging his
tool bag and the hanger he'd used before, after him.  Less than a minute
went by, but it seemed like a long time to her and she got down on her
hands and knees to peer into the darkness.

   "Are you OK?" she called.

   "I'm fine." His voice sounded faint.

   Another ten minutes went by and he called out to her to close the drain
and fill the tub half full.  She ran and did that, and then returned.

   "I need another hanger," he called out.

   She ran and got that and kneeled at the opening to tell him she had it.

   "Can you bring it to me?" he yelled.  "I've got parts lying on my chest,
and don't want to move."

   "I can't come in there!" she yelled.

   "Sure you can," he called back.  "Nothing to it."

   "I'll get all dirty!" she yelled.

   "Yes, you will," he yelled back.

   "There are spiders!" she complained.

   "I scared them all away!" he yelled back.

   "Can't you come get it ...  please?" she begged.

   "No," he yelled back.  "And could you hurry?  There's water dripping on
me and I'm lying in mud."

   She steeled herself, and got on her stomach.  As soon as her head and
shoulders were in the hole, she berated herself for doing this stupid
thing, but her stubborn streak drove her on.  She was surprised,
immediately, to find that there were vents all around the house that let in
a surprising amount of light.  It wasn't really all that dark.  She could
see him, ten or twelve feet away, lying on his back.  The ground was dry,
at least where she was.  It was interesting to see that the house was held
up by square columns, made of brick, spread every five feet or so.  She
wiggled forward, the hanger in her hand, and felt the dirt scrape her
exposed abdomen.  She had the disgusted thought that she was ruining her
halter top and shorts, and should have changed into something else.

   She saw the water dripping on him, as she got closer.

   "Where is that coming from?" she asked, reaching out to give him the
hanger.

   "The tub drain isn't sealing properly," he said.  "I got the cleanout
cover off, thank goodness.  I need a snake."

   "SNAKE!" she screeched, bumping her head on the underside of the floor
as she jumped.

   "No," he laughed.  "Not that kind.  A plumber's snake is a long cable
that you can stick down in the pipes to break up a clog.  I'm using a
hanger, but it isn't long enough." She relaxed, and lay there on her
elbows, as he twisted the two hangers together to make a longer wire, and
then fed that into a hole in a big, black pipe where the dripping water was
coming from.

   "Ahhh," he said, sounding pleased.  "I hit something."

   He jerked the wire, moving it in and out of the hole over and over
again. Then he moved it in and out more slowly, as if he were feeling for
something.

   "I hope that's got it," he said.  "I don't really want to come back down
here."

   "Me either," she agreed.  "I can't believe I let you talk me into
getting under here this time!"

   "It didn't hurt you a bit," he said.

   "It ruined my clothes," she complained.

   "I already fixed your washer," he laughed.  "That will solve that
problem."

   He took a round black thing off his chest and threaded it into the hole
he'd been poking the wire in.  He tightened it with a wrench.

   "OK," he said.  "Now go up and let the tub drain.  Make sure it's at
least half full of water when you start, OK?"

   "Got it!" she said.  She turned around and wiggled back toward the hole.
As she crawled out, she felt suddenly strong and successful.  She looked
down and moaned at the dirt on her stomach, clothing, and the front of her
legs, but ran into the house.  She had to add water to the tub, and then
flipped the lever that let it out.  She couldn't tell if anything was
happening or not, so she ran back out and knelt at the access hole again.

   "I did it," she yelled.

   "It sounds like it's running pretty well," he said.  "Go back and watch
the drain.  What we're hoping for is a whirlpool."

   She ran back in, and immediately saw that the level in the tub had
dropped by half ...  much faster than it had been doing.  She saw the
whirlpool he was talking about and yelled excitedly.  She heard his muffled
yell through the floor, and ran back out.  She waited, until he wiggled out
of the access hole.

   "It goes MUCH faster," she said happily.

   "Show me," he said.

   She took him back to the bathroom, where the tub was empty.  She closed
the drain, ran water until it was a quarter full, and then opened the
drain. The whirlpool appeared almost immediately and she clapped her hands,
bouncing on her feet, an old move from her cheerleader days.  She turned,
as she jumped, to see him watching her breasts bounce.

   She stopped, and looked down.

   "I'm a mess," she moaned.  "You got me all dirty!"

   "I'm a mess too," he said, grinning.  "I got all dirty because of you."

   "But we fixed it!" she squealed.  "I can't believe I crawled under my
house!"

   "We did fix it," he said, smiling.  "You know," he said, "The bathtub
works better ...  and we are both filthy ..."

   The innuendo in his voice was impossible to miss.  Her eyes jerked
toward his.  He looked right into hers.

   "Could I talk you into washing my back?" he asked.

   She felt flutters in her belly again.  She had called him here to get
naked with, but now, for some reason, she felt nervous about that.

   "Would you wash mine too?" she asked, her voice almost timid.

   "I'd love to," he said.

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

   Even though she'd decided to take the plunge, so to speak, Jill had no
idea how to begin.  She knew she should take her clothes off, but her built
in modesty, while it allowed her to expose SOME of her skin, made it very
difficult for her to just take her clothes off in front of him.  She stood
there, uncertainly.

   Bobby had no such qualms, but he knew she was nervous.  He had seen the
desperation in her earlier offer ...  her display of sexuality.  He had
decided she needed him, and he liked her.  A lot of women would have flatly
refused to crawl under the house, and he thought she was pretty brave to
have conquered her fears.  So he didn't want to push her.  He decided on
something a little less provocative, though it was still a step forward.

   "I think the washer will get these stains off," he said, reaching out
and touching the dirty tips of her halter top.

   Jill looked down to see his fingers tracing over the tips of her
breasts, and she took in a deep breath of air.  It was just a natural
reaction, but it made her breasts move toward his fingers.  She watched as
his fingers moved to the knot that held the halter top together, in the
front, and she got a little dizzy as she watched that knot come undone. 
Her mind was moving much faster than his fingers, and knew that, in
seconds, her breasts would be bare to him.  Her dizziness caused her to
reach out and put her hands on his shoulders.

   Bobby saw her reaction, and wanted to smile.  Her hands could have gone
to his, stopping him, but they hadn't.

   "Let's just get this in the washer," he said softly, pulling the garment
apart.

   Her breasts fell free.  They were very white, with areolas that were
only a tad darker than the surrounding white flesh.  Her nipples were only
a shade darker than that.  Had he been standing twenty feet away, they
would have been invisible.  He stood there for a few seconds, watching her
nipples begin to push outward.

   "Beautiful," he sighed.

   He looked up and found she was staring at them too.  As if she could
sense where he was looking, her eyes came up to his.  There was a mixture
of both passion and fear there.  He didn't touch her bare breasts.

   "Let's get those shorts in the same load," he said.  "My clothes too."

   He started working on his own clothes, pulling his shirt off.  He knew,
by now, that his chest was impressive to many women, and he tightened the
muscles there, in a little display of masculinity.  She stared at those
muscles, and her breath, which she had been holding, came out in a rush. 
He was in even better shape than Mark had been, the first time she'd seen
HIS naked chest.  She'd had to remove her hands from his shoulders, when he
stepped back to remove his shirt, and her feet made little steps, to retain
her balance.  She still felt light-headed.

   When he undid his shorts, and began to push them down, her hands
fluttered to her own.  Her instinct was not to let him get ahead of her,
somehow.  Her own body's natural rhythms took over then, as she gave her
hips a little wiggle, to get her tight shorts past them.

   They stood, a yard apart, each dressed in only underwear that covered
their loins.

   "Why don't you start these," he said, bending over to pick up his own
clothing, and her halter top.  She was still standing in her shorts.  "I'll
get the tub filled."

   "OK," she gasped, taking them from him and covering her breasts with the
wad of clothing.  She stepped out of her shorts and bent to get them.  When
she stood up, he was bent over the tub, working the faucets.  She backed
up, toward the door as he stood up.

   "Wait," he said softly.  "You may as well do these too."

   He pushed his briefs down, bending over to step out of them.  When he
stood up she was holding her breath again.  She didn't know whether to be
relieved, or unhappy that his manhood hung limp between his legs.  She
averted her eyes.  Her arms held the clothing to her body and he had to
tuck his underwear under an arm.

   "OK," he said.

   She had no memory of walking to the utility room and opening the washer.
She realized she was standing there, and let the clothes all fall into the
washer in a bunch.  She had to move them around, and putting soap in was
just a habitual thing.  It wasn't until she had set the timer and turned
the machine on that she realized she still had panties on.  She took them
off and threw them on top of the load.

   She remembered every step of the journey back to the bathroom.  She
couldn't believe she was actually going there.  He was naked in there, and
she was naked too.  Her plan for revenge had flown out the window, when she
saw his naked chest.  She couldn't fathom why she was doing this, other
than she felt a need ...  a drive ...  to be in there with him.  It was
impossible to accept that they might make love.  In her entire life she had
made love with only Mark, and she couldn't picture herself with any other
man.

   Thinking of Mark brought some control back, as anger resurfaced.  Mark
was why she had decided to do this in the first place.  Her step steadied,
and lengthened a bit.  She realized she had been creeping toward the
bathroom, stealthily, and walked more normally.

   He was already in the tub, already under water, leaning back, with his
eyes closed.  His head rolled toward her.

   "I made it hot.  I hope it's not too hot for you."

   With his head sideways, it was impossible to tell what he was looking
at, but she flushed anyway.  She was completely naked in front of him.  She
resisted the urge to cover herself with her hands, and went to feel the
water.

   "It is hot," she said, her voice rough and dry.

   "Just take your time getting in," he said.  "It's not so bad that way."

   Just getting in the tub took every bit of willpower that she had.  It
required that she bend over and lift one leg, exposing her most secret
place, as one leg went into the tub.  She felt like she was doing that
intentionally, even though she couldn't help but do it.

   Bobby watched as her leg lifted, and her sex was exposed.  Her pussy
lips were closed tightly, and almost white, as if they were straining
against each other.  Her vulva did not protrude at all and, other than a
crease in the skin, there was nothing that would make even a small bump in
the crotch of her panties, if they were pulled tightly against her there.

   She stood sideways to him, realizing that she had climbed between his
legs, which were against the sides of the tub.  If she sat down ...  and
she either had to do that or get back out ...  his legs would press against
her hips, and her backside would press against his ...  crotch.

   Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to sit.  Her whole body was
tense.

   "It will be more comfortable if you lean back," he said, his fingers on
her shoulders, pulling gently.

   As if in slow motion, her upper body tilted, backwards, an inch at a
time, until her shoulder blades impacted his chest.  The hot water came up
over her breasts as that happened.  Suddenly, whether it was the heat, or
because she had been tense for so long and just couldn't stay tense any
longer, she relaxed against him.  She realized she couldn't feel his penis
against her, and couldn't decide whether that was good, or bad.

   "Feels good to just soak," he sighed, his hands on the outside of her
elbows.

   "Yeah," she sighed in response, as she realized he was right.  Leaning
back against him, instead of the cold, hard tub, really WAS nice.

   "Feels nice to have you against me too," he said.

   His skin was slippery in the water, and she couldn't help moving
sideways an inch, and then back, to slide over that skin.

   "Yeah," she sighed again.

   They sat there for minutes, just sitting there, touching each other. 
Every minute his hands stayed on her elbows, she got more relaxed.  She had
expected those hands to move and grope ...  to be demanding ...  to try to
take control of her body.  But they didn't, and her fear slowly leached out
of her, until she felt like she could go to sleep.  By fractions of an
inch, her neck muscles relaxed, letting her head go back, until it rested
on his chest, just below his shoulder.

   "I could go to sleep," she murmured.

   "If you do, we'll wrinkle up like prunes," he said.

   The way he said that suggested that she had a choice.  She COULD go to
sleep, if she wanted to.  Sex was not required.  In a sense, all they
really WERE doing was ...  taking a bath.

   Her fear left her completely, and was slowly replaced by something else.
She concentrated on the feel of his flesh, on her back.  The butterflies
came back to her stomach.  Mark had never done this with her ...  never
just sat and relaxed in a tub of hot water.  He had always been demanding,
telling her what to do, and how to do it.  She realized her hands were
lying on his legs, just barely below his knees.  She stroked his flesh with
her fingertips.

   As if that gave him permission, his own fingertips slid up her arms to
her shoulders, and his right hand slid across her upper chest, as if he
were gently washing the dirt from there.  Again, she expected his hands to
move to her breasts, and she tensed a little, but, instead, both hands slid
back down her arms, to the insides, as if he were simply washing them,
coming around to slide back up the outsides of her arms, and back to her
upper chest.

   "I can't reach your back," he said into her ear.

   "My back isn't really dirty," she sighed.

   "Soap?" he asked.

   The soap dish was on the wall, and she lifted her right hand from his
leg and reached for the bar.  His hands came up in front of her and took
it, creating lather, before he put the bar back in her hand.  He soaped her
upper chest, and the part of her shoulders he could reach.  She refused to
lift her head, making it impossible for him to do anything else but explore
other areas of her body he hadn't touched yet.  As his hands slid down from
her upper chest, she took in a big breath of air and arched her back,
unable to stifle a moan as he FINALLY touched her breasts.  His hands slid
over them, though, not fondling them, but going to her stomach, and her
breath whooshed out.  His fingertips just grazed her pubic hair, and came
back up.

   She wiggled against him.  He hadn't gone far enough.  Her fear had been
replaced by a need to be touched ...  and he wasn't touching her!

   "Ohhhhh," she moaned, frustrated.

   "What's wrong?" he asked in her ear.

   She shivered at his hot breath on her ear.

   "You're teasing me," she sighed.

   "Me?" he asked.  She could hear the grin in his voice, and see it on his
face, in her mind's eye.

   "Yes, and you know it," she said more firmly.

   "You thought I'd do this," he said, cupping her breasts and squeezing
them.

   "Yes!" she said, again firmly.

   "And maybe this?" he asked, his fingers finding her nipples and
squeezing them.

   Streaks of pleasure shot from her nipples straight to her pussy, and she
wiggled against his chest.

   "Yeaaaaahhhhh," she groaned, the word extended.

   "The problem is," he said, moving his hands over her breasts in circles,
"it makes the soap go away, because my hands are under water." He squeezed
her nipples, and his fingers didn't slip off of them.

   "You're seducing me," she moaned.

   "I thought you were the one seducing me," he said, laughter in his
voice.

   "Just don't stop," she said, strength in her voice.

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

   Her passion built as he continued to tease her, stroking her here, and
there, but never quite making it into a real petting session.  Finally she
sat up, and let him wash her back.  Then they turned around, and she washed
as much of him as she could reach.  She tried to reach around him to get to
his penis, but he kept leaning forward, until she ordered him to stand.

   "I will," he said, but you may not like what you see.

   She didn't understand until he stood, and then turned around to present
her with his stiff penis.

   It took her breath away.  It was magnificent, as far as she was
concerned.  She'd never seen one that was uncut, and it looked so different
to her that it was like she was seeing a penis for the very first time. 
Her fear was gone, now, and the thing she'd been trying to feel was right
there.  She reached up a soapy hand and gripped it.

   "Why wouldn't I like this?" she whispered.

   She was delighted when she moved her hand, and the skin on his prick
moved with it, slowly exposing the head.  It looked much more like a penis
then, and she felt an almost cramp in her loins at the thought of this
long, hard thing pressing into her.

   She wanted it to press into her now, and not because it would make Mark
mad.  She wanted to feel this thing in her because she knew, just by
looking at it, that it would go deeper than Mark's, and spread her wider
than Mark's, and make her feel wonderful.  She looked up at him, looking
down at her.

   "I need this," she said.

   "Why?" he asked.

   She wanted to shout at him, but didn't.

   "I'm horny!" she said.

   "All right," he answered.

   Her eyes told him she was elated.  She abandoned him, and rose to get
out of the tub.

   "Wait!" he ordered.

   She froze, a sudden fear in her that he was going to withdraw.

   "Your face," he said gently, reaching to rub at muddy smears.  He
stooped to cup water in one hand, and rose to dab at her face with a thumb
dipped in the tiny reservoir in his hand.

   She felt a rush of relief, that was replaced by shock as he suddenly
pulled her to him and kissed her.  His kiss was urgent and hungry, and his
lips devoured hers.  Within seconds their tongues were dueling and her wet
body was crushed in his arms.  Never had she felt such power as there was
in his arms, and yet, she felt no fear.  Her lust flamed and she rubbed her
breasts against his chest, thrusting her pussy against his balls.  She felt
his erection pressed into her belly.

   She couldn't stand it any longer, and pushed him back, almost slipping
as she lunged to get out of the tub.  His strong hand on her elbow saved
her, and she danced while he stepped out.

   She took his hand and literally ran to her bedroom, flopping on the bed,
her legs open in welcome to him.  She expected to be covered by his body
... wanted to be crushed under him, but, again, he did something she didn't
expect.  He did get on the bed, but he stayed on all fours and dipped his
head between her legs.

   This was something else Mark had never done ...  would never have
considered doing, and the shock of his tongue, slithering between lips that
were no longer white and tight, but which had become swollen and pink,
caused her to freeze, every muscle in her body tense.  Her hips loosened
first, letting her butt sink into the bed, and then her legs came alive as
they drew her heels up, and her knees fell apart.  Then muscles tightened
again as she thrust her loins up into his face instinctively, lifting her
butt off the bed as her breath rushed out in a delighted groan.

   When her butt came back down, it landed on his hands, and she realized
at that second that she was helpless, as his hands forced her pussy more
tightly against his mouth.  Her body jerked, as if it was being
electrocuted, and her head flopped back and forth, as his teeth found her
clit and bit gently.

   Her scream of delight was short, because all her breath rushed out in
one explosive burst.  She was trying to drag in another breath of air when
he moved, with lighting speed, pressed his prick against her labia, and
began filling her as she had never been filled before.

   Now her mind couldn't keep up with the sensations flooding her body. 
There was actually some pain as she was stretched, but the overwhelming
ecstasy of being stuffed full of prick was a much stronger sensation.  Then
her clit chimed in, as his length scraped against it.  All the emotion that
had raged in her for a week gathered and expressed itself as an orgasm, as
the tip of his prick ground into her cervix, and his lips came down on
hers.

   Both of them were on a razor's edge of passion and emotion.  That she
had an orgasm, just by being penetrated, was proof that she really did have
a desperate need to feel loved.  For Bobby, the memory of staring at her
picture, of meeting the woman he had had so many fantasies about, of
feeling her relax against him in the tub, and of her obvious need, caused a
premature ejaculation as soon as he was fully embedded in her.

   Her agonized groan of release, was in harmony with his own desperate
groan, as he tried not to flush her full of semen, because he didn't want
it to end so quickly.  Then, when he couldn't stop it, and gave up, his
repetitive grunts, as his prick fired again and again, punctuated his
repetitive thrusts as, with each spurt, he powered forward, trying to bury
himself even deeper in her.

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

   They lay there, limp, side by side.  Less than four minutes had passed
since they ran from the bathroom.

   "I'm sorry," he panted.

   "Why!?" she gasped.  It had been the best sex she had ever had in her
life.

   "I guess I got carried away," he said.  "I was a little quick."

   She still felt the warmth of his spunk in her belly, and her pussy was
still pulsing gently, in the immediate after effects of her orgasm.

   "I'll let you make it up to me," she said, feeling unbelievably excited
at the prospect of anything remotely like that happening again.

   "Thank you," he panted.

   She wanted to giggle with happiness.  She hadn't felt like this for as
long as she could remember.  She knew it wasn't love.  Not in the sense of
being IN love with him.  She loved him for who he was, and for what he had
just done, but she had no illusions that it meant anything other than two
people sharing something wonderful.

   She was suddenly full of energy, even though she was still out of
breath. She felt like a whole new world had opened up for her.  She rolled,
to land against him, lifting to let him slide an arm under her.  Her
fingers traced over his chest.

   "Can I do something?" she asked.

   "What?" he responded.

   "I've never tasted a man."

   "Be my guest," he said.

   She scooted down to stare at his prick, which was slick with streaks of
milky white.  She thought about how that milky white stuff was inside her
right now.  That had happened many times, but it seemed different, somehow.
She had never had the urge to put her mouth on Mark's penis.  That was one
thing he had ordered her to do that she had refused.  He'd gotten angry
time and again, sometimes getting up and leaving her, only to come back
later and rut in her savagely.  She looked at the thing she'd never had an
urge to suck, and her mouth watered.  Even the streaks of white on it
seemed, somehow, to look like something sweet, like pudding.

   Her first tentative tastes were with the tip of her tongue.  It
certainly wasn't pudding.  She couldn't taste anything, really, until, with
a burst of energy, she sucked the whole limp thing into her mouth.  She was
amazed that it would all fit, considering that her pussy still felt the
now-relaxed strain of being stretched.

   Then the taste hit her, a mixture of salt, musk, with just the hint of
sweet in it, and an overlaying sense of tangy something.  Her cheeks caved
in as she surrendered to the natural urge to swallow, as she pulled off to
seal her lips so that she could.  The taste coated the inside of her
cheeks, and she licked her lips.  She stared at the penis in front of her.
It had thickened a bit, in her estimation, but now it was clean as could
be. There were streaks of that white in his pubic hair, at the base of his
prick ...  dabs of it that glued the hair together.

   She sucked him in again, feeling the texture of softness that gave when
she pushed her lips against it, but was dense underneath.  She sucked,
experimentally, and was rewarded with a moan from up where his head was. 
She turned her head to look at his face, sucking hard to keep him in her
mouth, and his eyes were pinned to hers.

   "Feels really good," he sighed.

   Her cheek felt his balls pressing against it, and she lifted one hand to
feel them.  Two semi hard little orbs slipped back and forth, as her
fingers tried to capture them.

   "Easy," he moaned, as she caught one, briefly, and it slipped from her
grasp again.

   She pulled her mouth off of his penis.  It was longer, and thicker
still. She gazed curiously at the balls she was feeling, and marveled at
the wrinkly sack that held them.  Her pussy felt hot and swollen, and there
was an ache deep in her belly that demanded she be filled again.

   She went back to work on his penis, and within three or four minutes it
wouldn't fit in her mouth any more, and she had to shift to sliding her
lips up and down its length.  Curiously, she grasped it with her hand,
pulling off again, to stroke it gently, watching as the skin covered the
head, and then peeled back, like a fruit being skinned.  The knob was dark,
almost purple, and she licked it, feeling the difference in texture.  It
was smooth and hard, while the skin around it was still soft and pliable.

   A clear drop welled up from the little slit in the tip, and she licked
at that with the tip of her tongue.  It had the musky, salty taste, but so
little that she sealed her lips over the tip and sucked, trying to get more
to come out.  He hissed, and the thing in her hand was suddenly hard as a
rock, under the soft skin that sheathed it.

   "I want it in me again," she panted.

   She waited, for him to move, so she could lie down and spread her legs
again.  Yet again, he did something she didn't expect.  He pulled her up to
lie on top of him.  His chest felt warm against her breasts, and her long
pony tail fell past her cheek to tickle his chest.

   Without words, he maneuvered her until she realized he wanted her to
sink down on his shaft.  He wanted her to be on top!  Another new thing,
which she had never done with Mark.  Everything else new had been fabulous,
so she entered into this new thing gladly, with energy, squatting while he
held himself up for her.  She looked down just as a long drip of thick
white drained out of her and drooled all over the tip of his penis.  As she
lowered lips that were now parted, though not much, she watched in awe as
they spread and shoved that thick white down his shaft as that purple knob
slid effortlessly into her.

   With entirely too much enthusiasm, she gave in to the craving to be full
again, and dropped, all at once.  She groaned as it felt like a soft spear
had penetrated all the way to her stomach, and felt the pain of her cervix
being pressed deeper into her body than it wanted to be pressed.  She sat
and panted, as the nerves in her pussy screamed "YES!" and clasped the
intruding member tightly in a welcoming embrace.

   "I feel like I ate a whole cow," she groaned.

   She looked at her abdomen, expecting to see it bulging, but it was flat
as a board.

   It was then, seeing the thick ring of white that almost obliterated her
pussy lips, where they were pressed tightly to his messy pubic hair, and
her board-flat abdomen, that she remembered her plan of revenge.  She was
fertile.  She was mid cycle.  This man's sperm was packed into her, held
there by the thick stalk that had injected it there.  That flat belly might
very well swell, as his baby grew and stretched her skin.  As she sat
there, looking at the evidence that they were mating, she no longer wished
that it would happen for revenge.  Instead, she felt a craving deep in her
belly ...  deeper than he was penetrating ...  to be full of life ...  to
see her belly grow larger and larger ...  to feel that life inside her move
and roll.  Her biology demanded that this mating be fruitful, and, that if
it wasn't ...  this time ...  that she do this again and again until it
was.

   She looked up his body, past his bulging chest muscles, to his calm
face. He was smiling, and it was the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen.
She loved that smile, and her pussy muscles clenched to tell her that they
loved what was attached to that smile.

   Suddenly she was frantic to feel him spurting in her again.  Her hips
gave a jerk forward, and muscles and gravity brought them back to where
they had been.  She jerked them again, feeling the thing inside her trying
to stay where it was, while her body jerked at it.  It felt delicious, and
within seconds her hips were almost a blur as they vibrated back and forth.
It was all instinctive, and all her concentration was on making that thing
inside her pulse again, filling her with heat, like it had just a little
while ago.

   She felt his hands on her shoulders, pulling, and realized her eyes were
closed.  She tipped forward from the pressure, and put her own hands on his
chest, to take her weight as she leaned.  She felt his muscles move, under
her hands, and saw him lift his head.  She realized his mouth was trying to
get to her left nipple, and was instantly at war with herself.  That was
one thing Mark had been very good at.  He sucked her nipples in a way that
left her limp, and made her accede to almost everything he ordered her to
do.  She knew that if Bobby sucked her, she'd cum, and she didn't want to
cum.  She wanted HIM to cum.

   "Nooooo," she moaned, as her forward-leaning posture brought pressure to
bear on her clit, and she felt streaks of joy shoot from there to the
nipple his mouth was only inches from.

   He was too strong, though, and within the next few seconds she felt the
suction, and the orgasm she had known would follow thundered toward her.

   "Nooooooooo," she whined, and then she saw stars as he sucked hard and
his hands helped her rub her clitty against the root of his imbedded prick.

   She heard her voice groaning "YESSSSSSSS," as her body betrayed her and
her only desire fell away to be replaced by the desire to lie on top of him
while her pussy finished washing her insides clean.

   There was a moment of terror as she felt her body lifted, and, with a
wet squelch, she was suddenly empty.

   "NOOOOOO!" she cried, feeling the world go topsy-turvy as her nerveless
body turned, all by itself, somehow, and she felt the impact of the bed
strike her back.  Then his weight came down on her, like she had originally
thought it would, and she was suddenly full again.  Her body sang with
relief, as she felt her tissues widen, no longer stretched.  His long, hard
prick fit her perfectly now, with her pussy muscles relaxed.  The movement
continued as she felt her body bouncing up and down, and she realized that
he was pounding her.  Her abused clit demanded another orgasm, to sooth it,
and she lay helplessly as it thundered through her.  She felt as weak as if
she was in a flood, and the water was twisting her this way and that, as it
carried her to she knew not where.  She lay limp, unable to muster the
strength even to clutch at him, feeling the first probes of panic that she
would lose her mind if this went on much longer.

   Then, suddenly, the bouncing stopped, and her glazed eyes focused on his
face, hovering above her.  His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open.  His
eyes fluttered and her brain registered a flush of extra warmth in her
belly, as his prick swelled and pulsed.  His eyes kept fluttering as there
were more pulses, and the ball of heat in her belly spread.  Her torpor
left her instantly, as something very like adrenaline coursed through her.

   She clutched at him with clawed fingers, and her legs whipped up to land
on the back of his thighs, as her loins pushed upward to accept his gift.

   "OH YESSSSSSS" she wailed.

   THIS was what she had craved more than her own release.  THIS was the
balm that soothed her ...  made her feel complete.  THIS was what she
needed more than anything else she could think of.  When his eyes steadied,
and his lips came down toward hers, she tried to make their lips meld into
one flesh, as she felt even more spurts of life-giving fluid rush into her
belly.

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

   Again they lay, side by side.  Her legs were tightly closed, to keep his
warmth from being lost through pussy lips that were no longer tight, or
white.  They were full and red, both from being stretched and mauled, and
from the passion she still felt wafting through her.

   "That was a little better," he sighed.

   "I thought I was going to lose my mind!" she panted.

   "I'll try to do even better, next time," he said, reaching for her hand,
and squeezing it.

   Her giggles, followed by laughs, turned into the kind of racking belly
laughter that leaves one weak, breathless, and with muscles that hurt.  It
also defeated her labia, and sperm gushed from her to soak the bed spread
beneath her buttocks.  Eventually, while he stared at her with a smile on
his lips, wondering what was so funny, she got up, made him get up, whipped
the bedspread off the bed, to reveal unstained, and dry sheets, and then
lay back down, demanding to cuddle.

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

   He stood over her, as she lay, so limp that she could barely keep her
eyes open.  He was dressed in clothing that were damp, from the washer. 
She was lying as if dead, naked.  He kissed her gently on the lips.

   "I have to go," he said.

   "Noooooo," she moaned weakly.  She didn't have the strength to keep her
legs closed, and could feel one of the three loads of sperm he'd packed
into her since she took the bedspread off, beginning to leak from her
pussy.

   "I have to," he said, smiling.  "I can come back another day."

   "Every day," she sighed.

   "Not every day," he said.  "But as often as I can."

   "I'm pregnant," she sighed.  "I have to be, by now."

   "Maybe," he said.  "Do you still want to be pregnant?"

   "You have no idea," she moaned, beginning to examine the insane urge
that had driven her all afternoon.

   He got a pillow and stuffed it under her buttocks, raising her pubis to
the sky, like an offering to the fertility gods of mythical times.  His
hand smoothed over her belly, like he was performing some magical rite that
would encourage the baby to begin to grow.

   "I don't care about Mark anymore," she said softly.

   "I know," he said.  "That's why we did this."

   She rolled her head toward his, weakly.  "You're the strangest man I
ever met," she whispered.

   "I've wanted to leave you like this for years," he said, kissing her
again.  "Ever since I was in high school."

   She smiled.  "Thank you.  That's quite a compliment.  I want you to
leave me like this a lot."

   "That's quite a compliment too," he said, grinning.

   "You have no idea," she said again.  Her eyes drifted closed.

   By the time he walked out the door, she was asleep.  His sperm, instead
of draining out of her, drained deeper into her, pooling inside her womb.
It wasn't needed though.  Two hours past, an egg, not quite out of her
fallopian tube, had already been surrounded and defeated.  By the time she
woke, refreshed and starved, skipping to the kitchen to eat, naked and
sticky with her lover's extra spend coating her inner thighs, the egg had
become six cells.  By the time she had cleaned up, laundered her bedding
and crawled in between clean, dry sheets, the cells had found a place to
attach to the wall of her womb.  When she woke, the next day, and lay there
thinking about what had happened, she didn't realize that her desperate
urge to become a mother had already been fulfilled.

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

   Prudence felt a burst of excitement as Ted pulled up in his 1966 Chevy
Nova station wagon.  He was picking her up first, since she lived in town.
She waited until he knocked, and then handed him her picnic basket, and
took his offered arm.  At the car, he put her basket in with the pile of
blankets and pillows in the back.  He held the door for her, and watched as
she eased into the front passenger seat.  She was wearing a pale apricot
colored silk blouse, and her hair was in a long French braid, that she had
to pull to the side so she wouldn't sit on it.  Below the blouse was a
skirt that came to just above her knees, and it rose to her thighs as she
levered herself into the seat.  Her hands pulled at it.

   "Oh, please don't," said Ted, grinning as she looked up at him.

   "My legs are getting fat," she complained.  "I'm running out of things
to wear.  Mirriam altered this skirt for me, putting a stretch panel in.  I
feel as big as a horse."

   "A thoroughbred, to be sure," he said, the grin still on his face.

   He went around and got in the driver seat.

   "I didn't see a swim suit," he said, looking over at her.

   "I'm wearing it under this," she said.  "Though I am nervous in the
extreme about letting you see my huge body in it."

   "It is my opinion," he said, starting the car, "that pregnant women are
among the most beautiful women in the world."

   "I'm still amazed that you'd have anything to do with an unmarried
pregnant woman," she said, looking at him.

   "Unmarried is the operative word here," he said, pulling away from her
house.  "If the man who got you this way is so foolish as to abandon you,
then he deserves to lose you."

   "He didn't abandon me," said Prudence, feeling an urge to defend Bobby.
"He simply isn't in a position to claim his baby."

   "I have no patience with married men who cheat," said Ted darkly.

   "I didn't say he was married," said Prudence.

   "I don't understand," said Ted.

   "I'm sure you don't," she said.  "And your curiosity will have to remain
unsatisfied.  Just understand that I love this baby, and I love the man who
gave him to me.  I just can't marry him.  That's all.

   "So he is still around?" probed Ted, looking ahead, and not at her. 
"Still in town, I mean?"

   "Where are you taking us?" asked Prudence, making it obvious she was
finished talking about the father of her baby.

   "I went on safari," he said proudly.  "I found the loveliest little
grassy bank, on a river, the name of which I am ignorant of.  The beach is
not sand, but it is small stones that won't hurt tender feet, and it is at
a point in the river where the water is lazy and looks fairly deep."

   "I haven't been swimming in the river since I was a little girl," sighed
Prudence.  "And the river is the Salt Creek."

   "It sure looks like a river to me," said Ted.

   "It is, but they called it Salt Creek, for some reason," she said.

   They pulled into Mirriam's driveway to see three girls, playing catch
with a baseball in the yard.  One of them ran to the house, and Mirriam had
come out, holding her picnic basket by the time he got out of the car.  She
was wearing shorts and what looked like a man's pullover shirt.

   She looked nervous.  Her hair was also down, though it was gathered
behind her in a thick pony tail.  She looked at the pile of blankets and
pillows in the car, and then at Prudence, who was grinning.

   Ted opened the back door for her.  As she got in he said: "I assume you
are wearing your swimming suit under your clothes too?"

   "Yes," she blushed, clearly uncomfortable.

   "Actually, that's good," said Ted, as he got back in and started the
car. "All the places that had a changing room were too public, for my
tastes."

   "What's wrong with being around other people?" asked Mirriam, nervously.

   "I know that you ladies are shy," he said.  "I wanted you to feel as
relaxed as possible, so public places were out."

   "Where are we going?" asked the clearly anxious woman.

   "You drive," said Prudence to Ted, trying to turn her bulk in the seat
to look at Mirriam.  "I'll tell her all about it." She saw Mirriam move
over in the back seat, so they could make eye contact.  "He's taking us to
a bend in the Salt Creek.  He says he went out and found it on safari." She
giggled.

   "But we'll be all alone!" said Mirriam.

   "There are two of us, and only one of him," said Prudence.  "Surely we
can handle him."

   "I hope so," sighed Ted, turning his face to grin at them.

   "Watch the road, Romeo!" barked Prudence.

   "Yes Ma'am!" he said loudly.  His head snapped back to the front.

   "I'm not so sure about this, Prudence," moaned Mirriam.

   "What can he do?" asked Prudence.  "Even if he throws off his clothes
and capers around naked, we've both seen that before.  Relax.  We're
supposed to be having a good time."

   Ted stayed silent, staring through the windshield, as he drove along
gravel roads, to a gate that had a cattle crossing on it.  A sign said "NO
TRESSPASSING" in big, black letters.

   "We can't go in here!" moaned Mirriam.

   "I got permission," said Ted, still looking forward.  "Mr.  Darwin is on
the school board, and he said we were welcome to have a picnic.

   "Did he know who you were bringing on this picnic?" asked Prudence.

   "As a matter of fact he did.  I told him, and he said something about
your son, Mirriam, rebuilding his gate, or some such thing, and about what
a fine young man he is."

   "Really?" Mirriam was delighted.  She knew Bobby had done work for
Marvin Darwin, but not what it was, or whether it had gone well or not.

   "What did he say about me?" asked Prudence.

   "He didn't say anything about you, in particular," said Ted.  "He just
winked at me and said I needed to be careful about biting off more than I
might be able to chew."

   "You're kidding!" gasped Mirriam.

   "That's what he said," said Ted, shrugging his shoulders.

   "Ohhhh," moaned Mirriam.  "I'll bet tongues are already wagging."

   "Probably not yet," said Ted.  "But if I'm lucky, maybe they will," he
muttered, under his breath.

   "What did you say?" It was Mirriam who asked the question, but both
women stared at him.

   "Pay me no mind," he said.  "I'm just all a-flutter to be out with two
beautiful women, whose attention I don't have to share."

   "But what did you just say?" asked Mirriam, leaning forward.

   "I was being shamefully forward," said Ted.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't
have said that.  I shall endeavor to treat you like the ladies I'm sure you
are."

   "But you never told us what you said!"

   "Perhaps it will come up later," said Ted.  "In the meantime, there's
our picnic spot, up ahead.  Prepare to have fun, ladies!"

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

   It took ten minutes to unload the car.  He'd brought enough blankets for
ten people, but laid them out on top of each other, to create a thick
foundation up against a big tree that provided shade.  Then he piled
pillows against the tree.

   "For you, Prudence," he said, stepping back.  "So you may lean
comfortably, as befits your condition."

   "How thoughtful," said Prudence, whose back never lasted long when she
had to sit without support.  She got down on hands and knees, and crawled
into the pile, re-piling pillows until she was comfortable.

   "I hate to say this," said Ted, as Mirriam sat down by her picnic
basket. "You look so comfortable, but we should probably swim before we
eat."

   "Ohhhh," she moaned.  "I suppose you're right."

   "I can't go swimming right now!" said Mirriam, clearly agitated.

   "Why not?" asked Ted.

   "Because I'm nearly naked in my swim suit!" she moaned.

   "All we could find at the store were bikinis," said Prudence, her voice
wry.

   "I knew, as soon as I got up this morning," said Ted, "that it was going
to be a glorious day."

   "You're not helping," said Prudence.

   He grinned.  "I can't help it," he said.  "This is a dream come true."

   "You have no idea what we look like," said Prudence.  "I'm huge, and
distorted.  It looks like I swallowed a pumpkin whole."

   "I've already told you how I feel about pregnant women," he said.

   "You did?" asked Mirriam, trying to keep the conversation going, so she
wouldn't have to get almost naked in front of this disturbing man.  She
wasn't used to having a man panting after her, and he was very nearly doing
that.  "When was that?"

   "The water is cool," pointed out Ted.  "We can talk while we're being
cool in it." He was unabashedly interested in seeing the women in their new
suits.

   "I can't do it," moaned Mirriam.

   Prudence, much more used to a man panting after her, screwed up her
courage, and started unbuttoning her silk blouse.  When it gaped open, she
held out her hand, to be helped up.  Ted not only helped her up, but slid
the blouse off her shoulders for her.  He hung it from a branch nearby. 
Prudence felt ludicrous, with the black stretch panel covering her belly,
and the skimpy bikini bra above it, and started pushing the skirt down. 
Then she ran into the problem she always had, when trying to bend over. 
Her belly got in the way.

   "May I?" asked Ted, his eyes glittering, as he went down on one knee.

   "This is embarrassing," sighed Prudence.

   "I'm only assisting you," said Ted.

   His fingers tugged at the skirt itself, and did not touch her body.  It
slipped down over her hips, and he caught it as she lifted one foot to step
out of it.  His eyes were level with her protruding belly.

   "Beautiful," he sighed, his eyes caressing it.

   "I'm fat," she said.

   "You're beautiful," he countered.

   He stood, and hung her skirt on another branch.  He turned to Mirriam,
who was sitting, frozen.

   "May I assist you as well?" he asked.

   "No ...  please," she moaned.

   "I want you to be comfortable," he said.  "If you ladies would avert
your eyes?  I didn't have the foresight you did, to wear my suit under my
clothing.  I have to change into it.  I'll try to be quick."

   Mirriam's hands flashed to her face, as he unbuckled his belt.  He had
thrown his suit on one corner of the blanket, as he arranged them.  With
his belt unbuckled, he unbuttoned his shirt, and shrugged it off.

   He was in very good shape, for his age.  There wasn't an ounce of fat on
him anywhere.  Prudence turned her head sideways, but couldn't resist
looking out of the corner of her eyes as he dropped his shorts and stood in
underwear.  Then he turned around, his back to them, and bent over, sliding
his underwear down and stepping out of them.  Still bent over, he picked up
his swim suit, stepped into it, and pulled it up.

   When he turned around, Prudence was looking at him again, and Mirriam
was peeking between her fingers.  He smiled.

   "You're peeking," he teased Mirriam.

   "What was I supposed to do?" she said, dropping her hands.  "I had to
keep an eye on you.  You might have attacked me!"

   "Mirriam," he said, his voice serious.  "As delighted as I am to be here
with you, and as attractive as I find you, please believe me, you have
nothing to fear from me.  I'm divorced, and I admit that, as a man, I am
very interested in you.  I already find my new life, and my new friends
delightful, but I CAN control myself.  I would never do anything to
threaten you, or make you sad."

   "What man asks two women to an outing like this?" moaned Mirriam.

   "Well, in the first place, if I might remind you, I was required to take
both women, or suffer the fate of getting to be with neither." He smiled.
"Besides, I am fascinated with both of you."

   "You can't have TWO women!" she yelped.

   "I don't have any women, at present," he said.  "I'm just out with two
women who make me feel like the man I wish I were."

   "But what if something happens?" she asked.

   "I hope, with everything that is in me that something does happen," he
said, calmly.

   "See!?" she moaned.  "You say things that make me feel so ...  so ... 
you flirt all the time!"

   "I admit it," he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

   "You flirt with BOTH of us!" she said.

   "Guilty, as charged," he agreed.

   "Are you saying, Sir," said Mirriam, doggedly, "that you'd dally with
BOTH of us ...  if you could?!"

   "I confess," he said, still calmly, "that I would ...  if I could."

   "That's outrageous!"

   "Scandalous," he agreed.

   "Why would you WANT that?" she moaned.

   "Are you looking for a husband, Mirriam?" he asked.

   "NO!" she yelled.

   "And you?" he turned to Prudence, who was standing there, taking all
this in silently.  "Do you intend to remarry?"

   "No," she said quietly.

   "I haven't the faintest idea whether I'll feel the urge to get married
again or not," he went on.  "But I DO feel the urge to be a man, and I DO
feel the urge to be around you two.  I'm not trying to trap you, or abuse
you, or break any hearts.  I just want to have some fun, with some women
who fascinate me, and who I am very interested in getting to know better.
If anything of an intimate nature developed, I'd be ecstatic.  I admit
that. But if it doesn't, and all we do here is swim and eat and talk, I
know I'll go home a happy man."

   "You brought us here to seduce us!" said Mirriam, her voice a little
stronger.

   "If possible," he admitted.

   "But ...  if that doesn't happen ...  you'll still be happy?" Mirriam's
voice sounded confused.

   "I'm happy already," he said.  "When was the last time you met a man,
and had such a frank and open discussion as this?  I find it exhilarating!"

   "I'm not used to this," said Mirriam, shaking her head.

   "I hope to change all that," said Ted, smiling again.  "If you're more
comfortable here, then I urge you to stay.  I'd like to get wet, though. 
Prudence?" he asked.

   "I wish Mirriam was going with us ...  but I'll go." She looked a bit
unsteady.

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

   When Bobby got home, his mother was still gone.  His three younger
sisters were off somewhere, exploring.  Linda and Florence were playing
chess, and were engrossed in the competition.  Bev was reading, but jumped
up and followed Bobby to his room.

   "Mamma's gone," she said, coyly.

   Bobby, who had cum five times in the last four hours, groaned.

   "I can't help you right now," he said, thinking automatically about how
she loved to rub her pussy along his hard cock.  He wasn't sure his cock
would get hard again for hours.

   "Why not?" she asked, disappointed.

   "Never mind," he said.  "Just believe me."

   "Where have you been?" she asked.  "Have you been with another woman?"
Her voice was tight.

   "Beverly, you're my sister," he said.  "There will always be other
women."

   "But it's not fair if they get all of you!" she pouted.

   "I can use my fingers on you," he sighed.  "That's the best I can do."

   "Would you lick me AND use your finger?" she asked.

   "You are horny, aren't you." He grinned.

   "I never get to do it in the daytime," she said.  "I'm dying."

   "Get naked," he said.

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

   Flo lost again.  She was furious about it, because it was Bobby's fault.
And Beverly's too.  When Bobby came in, and Bev followed him like a puppy,
Flo knew they were doing something.  She was distracted, and Linda beat her
easily.

   "Another game?" asked her younger sister, excited beyond belief that she
had won.

   "No," said Flo, her voice surly.

   "Oh, come on.  That's only like the third time I ever beat you," said
Linda.

   "Have you ever kissed a boy?" asked Flo, suddenly.

   "What?" Linda's face turned red.

   "At a dance, or somewhere." said Flo.  "Have you?"

   "Why do you want to know?" asked Linda, hedging.

   At fifteen, Linda's body, which she obviously got from Mamma, was riper
and lusher than Flo's, which was decidedly on the tomboy side of things. 
Linda wore bigger bras, and if Flo tried to wear her pants, they slid off
her hips, unless she used a belt.  Flo kept an eye on all her sisters, at
school, or wherever they were.  At the 4th of July celebration, Linda had
vanished for about half an hour.  She popped back up, and, when asked where
she'd been, had said "Oh, around." Later, she had been eating watermelon,
standing next to Jimmy Sykes.  It had been obvious that they were trying
not to look at each other, but they didn't move apart either.

   "Just tell me!" ordered Flo.

   "Is this a private conversation?" asked Linda, carefully.

   "If you mean, am I going to tell Mamma about it ...  no." said Flo,
almost agitated now.

   "Yes," said Linda.

   Flo blinked.  She would have said "No," if someone asked her if she
thought Linda had kissed a boy.

   "How many times?" she asked.

   "Why are you asking me this?" said Linda, beginning to get upset.

   "I'm seventeen, and I've been kissed twice," said Flo.

   "Really?" Linda leaned toward her.  "Who?"

   "Joey Stevens," said Flo.

   "He only kissed you twice?" Linda sounded incredulous.

   "No, he kissed me once.  Another boy kissed me once too."

   "Who?"

   "I can't tell you." Flo tried to make it obvious that this wasn't open
for discussion.

   Linda didn't seem to care.  "Gosh, I've been kissed lots of times!"

   "How many?" asked Flo.

   "I don't know ...  It's hard to say.  Some of them were longer than
others." Linda seemed confused.

   "Who were they?" asked Flo.

   "Who kissed me?" asked Linda.

   "Yes!" Flo gritted her teeth.  Linda was the ditzy one in the family,
the one who, if she was blond, would act like it.

   Linda named four boys.  One of them was the boy Flo had seen her with at
the 4th of July celebration.  None of them were Bobby.

   "Did any of them ever touch you?" asked Flo.  "You know ...  like
private places?"

   Linda looked shocked.  "No WAY!" she gasped.

   Flo was of the opinion that Linda couldn't keep a secret from her.  She
was too easy to read.

   "I have to ask you one more question," said Flo.  "It might sound
strange, but I have to ask."

   "OK," said Linda.

   "Has Bobby ever kissed you?"

   "On the lips?" Linda's voice rose an octave.

   "Yes," said Flo.

   Linda's breath rushed on in a breathy "NO!" and her eyes got wide.  Then
she showed that she wasn't a complete ditz.  "Why?  Did he kiss YOU on the
lips?"

   Flo wished she hadn't said anything now.  Now she was stuck.  She'd
asked for the truth from her sister, and they had an unofficial oath that
they'd never lie to each other.

   She told Linda what had happened in the back of the truck.  She didn't
tell her what Bev had done, or what Mary had talked about.

   "Wow!" said Linda.  "What was it like?"

   "What do you mean, what was it like?" said Flo.  "He's my brother!"

   "I know, but he's so dreamy," moaned Linda.

   "Would you let him kiss you?" asked Flo, feeling flutters in her
stomach.

   "I don't know ...  maybe," said Linda.

   "I think he's been kissing Bev too," said Flo.

   "Really?" Linda appeared to be in thought.  "I got up to go to the
bathroom one night, and Bev wasn't in bed.  She wasn't in the bathroom
either.  I wondered where she was.  Maybe she was kissing Bobby then."

   "Why didn't you go find her?" asked Flo, incredulous.

   "I was sleepy," said Linda.  "I went back to bed."

   "I bet she's kissing him right now," said Flo.

   "Really?" asked Linda.  "Let's go see!" She sounded excited.

   "I don't want to see him kissing Bev," snorted Flo.

   "I do!" said Linda.

   "Why!?" Flo asked, astonished.

   "Kissing always makes me feel all squishy inside," said Linda.  "I love
to do it.  It's scary too, though."

   Flo understood that.  Her kiss with Joey hadn't been scary.  It had been
interesting, and nice.  When Bobby had kissed her it HAD been scary, not
because of the fact that it was Bobby, but because of how it made her feel.
It made her want to do it again.  She'd never felt that before, and it had
bothered her ever since.  Now, here was Linda, blithely saying she might
want to kiss Bobby too.  Was this whole family crazy?  No, that couldn't
be. Other girls kissed their brothers too.  She knew that.  They even
fucked their brothers, if Christy Bellows could be believed.  And Flo HAD
believed Christy.

   Linda was standing there, impatiently waiting for her older sister. 
Against her better judgment, Flo got up, and followed Linda, who crept
along like she was a hunter, tracking game.

   "Oh, just go open the door!" snarled Flo, pushing past her.

   Bobby's door was, in fact, closed.  Thinking that the worst she would
see was Bobby kissing Bev, she turned the knob and threw the door open.

   What she saw rocked her to her core.

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

   Prudence and Ted had been sunk down to their necks in the water for ten
minutes.  They seemed to just be talking, as far as Mirriam could tell. 
Prudence was laughing, at something.  Mirriam felt much calmer, when they
left her alone, and she felt much more in control of herself.  Watching
them, she thought about everything that had happened.

   Ted was a mystery to her.  He wasn't like any other man she'd ever met.
He was so open ...  so direct ...  so willing to say what was on his mind,
even when that terrified her.  Joe hadn't been a big talker.  Joe had just
loved her.  When she was with Joe, everything had been so simple.  He was
there, and she was there, and she knew he would make her feel like the most
important woman in the world.

   She looked at Prudence and Ted.  Prudence was carrying Bobby's baby.  It
was obvious she didn't mind that one bit, even though it meant there would
be the raising of a baby alone.  Mirriam knew what that was like very well.
Then again, Prudence had raised Constance, mostly alone.

   Mirriam concentrated on how she felt about Prudence, for a few minutes.
Prudence was going to have her grandchild.  Over the weeks since she had
become friends with her, she had come to cherish the time she spent with
the woman.  Prudence wasn't like any other woman she knew either.  If ever
she could share a man, it would be with Prudence.

   The thought shocked her.  How could she think of sharing a man?  And
yet, she knew very well that Joe, when he wasn't with her, was with other
women.  She hadn't cared about that ...  as long as he came back to her
sometimes.  And she had to admit to herself that, in moments of weakness,
she thought about sharing Bobby with Prudence.  It would be the other way
around ...  Prudence sharing him with his mother, really, but it was the
same thing.

   The rush of emotion, when she thought about Bobby, kissing her ... 
touching her ...  made her look at Ted in another light.  He was interested
in her.  He plainly wanted to seduce her ...  both of them ...  even though
Prudence was great with child!  If she let herself go with Ted ...  and the
thought of that was in no way distasteful ...  she might not want her son
that way.

   It was that, more than anything else in her roiling mind that made her
take her outer clothing off, and walk toward the river.

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

   "That's not the kind of kissing I've ever done!" gasped Linda, from
behind Flo.

   Bobby lifted his head from between Bev's thighs.  His face looked shiny,
like it was wet.  Bev's head turned, and what had clearly, to Flo's ears,
been a moan of delight, turned into a squeal of dismay, as Bev's legs
popped up in the air, athletically, and she lunged for the other side of
the bed.  The after-image of Bobby's fingers, pulling at Bev's nipples,
while he slurped between her legs, dominated Flo's consciousness.  She was
frozen, unable to move, or say anything.

   Oddly, another part of her mind noticed that Bobby was fully clothed. 
She saw his body rise from the bed, where he had been kneeling, and he
stepped toward her.

   Panic, and adrenaline kicked in, and her body unfroze.

   "DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!" she screamed.

   She backpedaled and ran pell mell into Linda, who was trying to move
forward, to see better.  There was an "Ooof" from Linda's mouth, and Bobby
stopped.

   "Come in here!" he said.

   "NO!" squealed Flo, trying to get around Linda, without losing eye
contact with Bobby.

   "GET IN HERE!" Bobby roared.

   "Noooooo ...  pleeeeease," whined Flo, sure that he was going to kill
her.  "We won't tell, pleeease don't hurt meeeee."

   It was Bev who resolved the immediate situation.  She popped up from
behind the bed, flushing furiously, stark naked, but she stalked around the
bed, and past Bobby, right up to her older sister.  As she grabbed her
sister's elbow in a grip that was almost debilitating, she yelled.

   "HE WON'T HURT YOU, YOU STUPID GIRL!  HE WOULD NEVER ...  EVER ...  HURT
ONE OF US!"

   Flo was herded, more or less, by Bev, pulling at her, and Linda, pushing
from behind.

   "Wow!" Linda said, her voice breathy.  "WOW! ...  Oh Wow! ...  Oh Wow!"

   There was only the excitement of discovery in her voice, though she
seemed as paralyzed, mentally, as Flo was.

   Flo was still in the grip of panic, but Beverly wasn't the source of the
fear that gripped her.  She therefore felt no distaste in hugging Bev, and
seeking safety in her arms.

   "Everybody just sit down," said Bobby, his voice tired.  "We have some
talking to do."

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

   "Wow," said Ted softly, as he saw Mirriam walking toward them on the
grass.

   Prudence looked at what he was looking at.

   "She is beautiful, for an old broad, isn't she?"

   Ted actually took his eyes off Mirriam, to look at Prudence.

   "You're both beautiful for old broads, Prudence."

   Prudence blushed.  They'd been talking about nothing, really.  Ted had
told her a little more about his past life, and a really funny story about
his trip "out west" from St.  Louis.  He hadn't exactly invaded her
personal space, but, as they stood on the sandy bottom of the river, his
hands had touched hers, or brushed her arm, occasionally, and he was
standing closer to her than the average person would, when just talking. 
She liked Ted.  She liked his attitude, which was so vastly different from
hers had been when she lost her mate.  He was taking it all in stride, with
a positive attitude, and just starting over, in a sense.  He also made her
feel good about herself.  His constant comments about her beauty, or her
motherhood, or how much he had looked forward to taking her off into the
country on this picnic all made her feel desirable.  She had no illusions
about his intent.  He was interested in sex, though she truly believed that
was only part of his intent.  And, in an odd turn of things, that she
hadn't really thought about all that much, she didn't think he was
perverted for wanting two women at the same time.  She would never give
Bobby up, if she had her way about it, but she was attracted to this man
too.

   His awe-filled "Wow" had made her look at Mirriam, and the thought that
flitted through her mind wasn't one of jealousy.  Rather, it was that he
had good taste.  Mirriam was a wonderful woman, who had, after Joe died,
made the same mistake, in a way, that Prudence had made.  She hadn't taken
another man.  She was a wonderful woman, and a wonderful friend, and she
deserved what her son was giving another woman.  Her comment to Ted about
Mirriam being an "old broad" wasn't intended to make Mirriam less
attractive to him.  It was just a product of feeling comfortable around
him. His response made her want to kiss him, and she blushed at the
thought. She wished Bobby was there.  She'd bend over and let him take her
in an instant, right about now.

   "You have awfully good taste in women," she said, instinctively,
watching Mirriam's swaying hips, and bouncing breasts.

   "You both make me hard as a rock," sighed Ted, watching the same things.
He realized what he'd said, and that he'd said it out loud, and murmured an
apology.

   "If you think you've offended me, you are incorrect," she said back,
blushing even more.

   "You two can stop talking about me now," called out Mirriam, as she
stepped delicately into the water.

   Prudence laughed out loud, wondering if she should tell Mirriam what
he'd just said.  Instead she just said, "It's all been good, Mirriam."

   Mirriam stopped, bending forward.  Her breasts swung away from her body,
and the bikini top couldn't hold them tightly enough to keep them from
falling forward.  Both bathers could see clear through her cleavage.

   "That is a truly wonderful swim suit," sighed Ted.  "I can't tell you
how glad I am you decided to join us."

   Mirriam looked at him.  He was staring unabashedly at her breasts.

   "You really are horny," she commented dryly.  "I take it you were used
to lots of sex before your divorce."

   If she expected Ted to be contrite, she was mistaken.  He simply
grinned.

   "My wife believed that sex was her duty," he said.  "That meant she had
to give it up once a month, whether she wanted to or not, while she was
fertile.  I think somebody got to her when she was very young, and put some
strange ideas in her head."

   "Once a month," Mirriam repeated.  "No wonder you're such a basket
case." Her comment was a little harsh, but the voice it was delivered in
made it clear she was more sympathetic than judgmental.

   Prudence laughed again.  "Mirriam, you haven't had sex in years.  YOU
should be a basket case."

   "I am," said Mirriam, her voice husky, feeling a sudden urge to embrace
Ted and see what his lips tasted like.

   "Music to my ears," said Ted, still grinning.

   "I'm not used to a man being so direct," said Mirriam, her eyes
examining Ted's chest.

   "I'm not used to being so totally in the grip of two women I just met,"
said Ted, no longer smiling.  "I'm not really like this, you know. 
Normally, I'm just an average guy, who doesn't make moves on women he just
met.  There's just something about you." He turned to Prudence.  "And you.
I've never had a fantasy about two women at the same time.  It's all I
could think about since I met the two of you.  I'm beginning to think you
are modern day sirens, from the old Greek myths."

   "Well," said Mirriam, pulling water up to wash her arms with it, and
letting her breasts keep hanging, so he could look at them, "I'm sure the
other you is just as interesting." She stepped closer to him.  "On the
other hand, I'm beginning to like THIS you."

   "Wow!" said Ted softly.  "I really expected to be chased back to the car
by two angry women."

   "Hey," said Prudence, breaking the mood, which had suddenly gotten
serious.  "What happened?  I thought you were all upset." She looked at
Mirriam curiously.

   "I sat there watching you two, in the water, and realized I'm a basket
case," said Mirriam.

   "Oh, wow," moaned Ted.

   "He's hard as a rock for us," said Prudence, seeing the change in
Mirriam, and recognizing in her demeanor the woman that Bobby had unleashed
in herself.  "He told me so, just before you got here."

   "Prudence!" groaned Ted.  "She's just coming around!  Don't scare her
off!"

   Mirriam stepped even closer to them, and the water rose above her
breasts.

   "I have eight children," she said softly.  "It's been a while, but I
know what hard-as-a-rock looks like ...  and it doesn't scare me."

   "Oh man," sighed Ted.  "You have no idea how that affected me."

   "Well," said Mirriam.  "Why don't you go get into the picnic baskets,
and see what we brought you.  I need to talk to my friend privately for a
few minutes."

   Ted looked a little squeamish, suddenly.

   "If I ...  uh ...  get out of the water now, I'm afraid I may offend you
two ladies."

   "We won't look," said Mirriam.  "Besides, you'll be going away from us,
now won't you?"

   He brightened.  "Yes!  That's true.  You are very kind."

   He surged away from them, and walked toward the shore.

   Mirriam waited until he was stepping up onto the grass and called out:
"Oh Ted!"

   He turned automatically.  The front of his wet swim suit was poked out
six inches, and the wet cloth of his loose suit clung to him enough that it
looked phallic.  Both women stared at him.

   "What?" he asked, when Mirriam said nothing else.

   "Never mind," said Mirriam, as both women broke into giggles.

   Ted looked down, started to cover his erection with his hands, and then
stopped.  He got that he had just been tricked.  He decided that, if they
wanted a look, he was more than willing to give them one.  He stayed the
way he was, standing there for another thirty seconds, getting harder, if
anything, as the two women kept staring at him and giggling, and then
turned and went to the blankets.

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

   "What in the world has come over you?" asked Prudence.

   "I have to tell you something," said Mirriam, frowning.  "If this ... 
with Ted ...  is going anywhere, I need for you and me to stay the same. 
That's more important to me than getting laid."

   "I thought you didn't want to get laid," said Prudence.

   "I AM a basket case, Prudence," moaned Mirriam.  "You have Bobby. 
That's what I need to talk to you about." e "Go on," said Prudence,
wondering where this was going.  Mirriam had, by omission, more or less
given her approval for Prudence to continue dallying with Bobby.  Was she
about to withdraw that approval?

   "I was doing all right, mostly, until you came along, and I realized how
much I was missing," said Mirriam.  "Knowing about you and Bobby has
unlocked a box that I thought I had well closed.  I have ...  feelings ...
for Bobby."

   She stopped, and watched Prudence, to see what her reaction would be.

   Prudence wasn't as shocked as she would have been a year ago.  She knew
the hold that Bobby had on her, and she would not be surprised to find that
he had that hold on other women.  That Mirriam was his mother was a bump in
the road, but not one that would throw the car into a ditch.  He was a
luscious, tender, loving man.  Any woman who was around him for a while
would see that, and this woman LIVED with him.

   "Go on," said Prudence.

   "I can't have Bobby," said Mirriam.  "But I can't stop my feelings
either.  What Ted is offering ...  might help me though."

   "I agree," said Prudence.

   "He wants us both, Pru," said Mirriam.

   "Yes," said Prudence.

   "I don't want either of us to be hurt."

   "You think he might choose one ...  or the other?" asked Prudence.

   "That's the normal way of things," said Mirriam.

   "Has he done ANYTHING normal, since we met him?" asked Prudence.

   "Well, no, I suppose not," admitted her friend.

   "Then let's cross that bridge if we ever get to it," said Prudence.

   "What if he wants both of us ...  at the same time?" asked Mirriam.

   "He only has one penis," said Prudence.  She giggled.  She would never
in a million years have thought she'd be having this conversation with
anyone.

   "You know what I mean," said Mirriam.  "If he has his way, he's going to
have both of us naked, up there on those blankets.  Can you live with
that?"

   Prudence looked at her friend.  She'd never felt the urge to kiss
another woman, but the anxiety on Mirriam's face made her want to hug her,
and tell her everything would be all right.

   "I don't think I'd like seeing Bobby making love to you," said Prudence.
"But the idea of seeing Ted do that ...  it's kind of exciting.  I've never
done anything like this before."

   "Of course not," said Mirriam.  "Neither of us has.  But once we open
that box, we won't be able to close it.  You're more important to me than a
quick orgasm, Pru."

   "Well, seeing as how, right now, I feel like kissing you ...  which is
COMPLETELY strange ...  I don't think it's going to be a problem."

   Mirriam relaxed, visibly.  "You're not strange.  I've wanted to rub my
hands over your belly about a hundred times, and the thought of kissing
you, right now doesn't seem all that odd, under the circumstances." She
blinked.  "On the other hand, maybe we should be thinking about kissing
him. Are you ready to do that?"

   "Desperately," admitted Prudence.  "If Bobby was here, we'd be doing it
right in front of you.  That's how worked up I am."

   "Well, then," said Mirriam.  "Let's go open that box, and see what fate
has brought us for a present."

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

   Things escalated almost immediately, when the women left the water. 
That was because their suits, made primarily for sunbathing, without the
thick pads that render a suit suitable for swimming, were virtually
transparent when wet.  Both women were looking at the picnic area, as
opposed to each other, so neither woman was aware of her appearance, as
they approached Ted.

   Ted looked up, and his mouth dropped open.  Prudence's raven black pubic
hair formed a dark vee through the yellow of her suit.  Her dark nipples
were equally visible.

   Mirriam's suit had been designed to have a blue polka dot where each
nipple was expected to be.  The designer was probably a man, because a
woman would have known that every woman's nipples are located in slightly
different places on her breasts, when compared to another woman.  Her fat
brown nipples produced their own polka dots, due to her heightened state of
arousal.  Her dark pubic hair was also easily visible through the white of
her bottoms.

   "Have mercy on me," he moaned, as the women walked up to the blankets.

   Then the women looked at each other, and there was a very short comedy
as each woman tried to cover up, instinctively, and then realized that was
silly, considering what they had decided to do.  It was quite likely, if
Ted had his way, that he'd see them naked anyway.

   Ted had, indeed, unpacked the food, and, once he could tear his eyes off
the women, he expressed his delight in what he'd found.  There was cold,
fried chicken, barbeque ribs, potato salad, Jell-O salad, homemade bread,
pickles, olives and cherry pie.  He proudly produced a cooler with bottles
of wine, and glasses.

   "I found the silverware, and the plates," he said, rubbing his hands
together in anticipation.  "All we're missing are the napkins."

   Both women looked at each other and, at the same time said: "I thought
you were bringing them!"

   "Doesn't matter," said Ted, waving a hand.  "You girls get comfortable,
and I'll serve you."

   Prudence levered herself down onto the pile of pillows, and lay back,
her legs together.  Mirriam sank down on the blankets, and bent her knees,
to put her legs beside her.  She was limber enough that she could sit up
that way, without having to support herself with an arm.

   He served them wine first, of course, a sweet white wine that he said
was his favorite.  While they sipped that, Mirriam sipping more
aggressively than Prudence, who moderated, due to the baby in her womb, he
asked them what they wanted on their plates, and arranged it.

   He handed Prudence hers, and she promptly set it on her pregnant belly.

   "The silver lining of this particular cloud," she said, smiling.

   "Is it really a cloud for you?" asked Ted, just making conversation.

   "I shouldn't have said that.  I love this baby.  I can't wait until he's
born."

   "He?" said Ted, preparing Mirriam's plate.

   "I'm carrying him so low, I'm sure it's a boy," she said.

   "How far along are you?" he asked.

   "Six months," she said, rubbing her belly.

   "Really?" he said.  "I'd have thought you were closer to eight.  That's
a big baby!"

   "I don't remember being this big with Constance," she said, but I know
when I got pregnant.

   "Yes," said Ted, slyly.  "I guess you WERE there when it happened." He
grinned.

   He handed Mirriam her plate, which she set on the blanket beside her. 
Then he went to get his own food.

   They started eating, more or less in silence, while Ted continued to
ogle the women, and they enjoyed being ogled.

   "Oops!" squealed Prudence.  She had tried to eat some ribs, and the
sauce had dripped onto her upper chest.  "Oh no!  This will stain my suit!"

   "Don't move," said Mirriam.  "I'll get a napkin and ..." She remembered
that there were no napkins.

   "I'll get it," said Ted, getting up.

   He went to Prudence, who was holding sauce stained fingers out away from
her, and got down on his hands and knees.

   "I wouldn't do this, you understand," he said, his face completely
straight, "if there were napkins available."

   Then he leaned down and licked at the sauce, sucking it up.

   "AACK" gasped Prudence, but by the time she could react, it was over,
and he was leaning back on his haunches.

   "All better," he said, grinning.

   "You could warn a girl," said Prudence, her breasts rising and falling a
little faster.  Impulsively she stuck one of her hands in his face.

   Without pause, he started licking and sucking her fingers clean.

   Mirriam sat, frozen, and watched.  He was so calm about this!  He acted
like it was all just part of a normal day.  She felt her nipples tingle as
she watched him suck Prudence's fingers.

   "That's enough," panted Prudence, as he reached for the other hand. 
"I'm eating with that one."

   Ted went back and sat down, as if nothing unusual had happened.

   He ate some chicken, and crumbs fell on his lap.  He brushed them away
without thinking about it, and then stopped.  Mirriam had chicken.  He
looked up and saw her bite into a drumstick.  Bits of breading fell into
her cleavage.  She looked down, and frowned.

   "Let me," he said, jumping up.

   She looked up at him, and her eyes dropped to his suit, which wasn't as
wet as it had been, but which was just as distended by his obvious
erection.

   "Just how do you plan to get them out?" she asked, feeling breathless.

   "Well," he said, looking at her breasts, "I could just pull the bottom
out a little, and they might fall on through.

   "All right," she said, feeling light headed.

   He did just that, carefully gripping the bottom of the bra, and pulling
it away from her, in the middle.  Some crumbs did fall ...  right into her
lap.  Before she could react, he reached with one hand and brushed them off
the front of her suit, where it didn't quite hide her pubic hair.

   "There are still some down in there," he said, peering into her
cleavage.

   "I'm not taking it off," said Mirriam, sure that if she did, she'd lose
all control.

   "I see it has a front clasp," said Ted, kneeling.  "I could unhook it,
and spread it apart just enough to get to them.  Then I could hook it back
up."

   "I don't think so," said Mirriam, breathing deeper now.  "How about if I
unhook it, and hook it?"

   "Your fingers are greasy," he reminded her.

   "Yours are too," she said.

   "Oh," he said, looking at his fingers.  She was right.

   He reached for her hand, and cleaned her fingers, just like he had
cleaned Prudence's.  She felt a burst of heat in her chest as his wet mouth
sucked at her fingers.

   "There," he said, his own voice breathy.

   She couldn't believe she was doing this, but she unhooked the bra and
spread it, pressing her breasts together, and holding the cloth firmly over
them.

   "I can't get to it anymore," he said, sounding sad.  "You're kind of
squeezed together."

   "I can't hold the cloth and spread them apart at the same time," she
moaned.

   "Let me help," he said.

   His hands went to hers and, while she held the cups of the bra firmly on
her breasts, he pushed her hands apart.  He leaned in and licked between
her breasts.

   "Oh my!" she sighed.

   It seemed to take him a long time, and he licked every bit of exposed
skin, including the insides of her globes, but finally he leaned back.

   "I think I got it all," he said.

   "Oh good grief!" moaned Mirriam.  "You all but breast fed!"

   "Nonsense!" he said, grinning.  "It's been a long time, but I still
remember that part.  I didn't even get close." He frowned.  "At least I
think I remember.  Maybe I should refresh my memory.  You could help with
that, I think."

   Mirriam re-hooked her bra and almost panted, as she pushed him away.

   Prudence, who had watched interestedly as her friend resisted ...  but
allowed ...  felt her pussy getting wet.  When she saw Mirriam re-hooking
her bra, she took the rib she was eating and wiped it liberally on the
insides of her breasts, getting close to, but no on the bright yellow
cloth.

   "Oh Teaaaddy," she called.  "I had another accident."

   He looked over, stood, and put his hands on his hips.  "You two girls
need to learn how to eat!  Now I'm going to have to clean you up again!"

   "I'm sorry," she said, trying to sound like a little girl.

   This time, when he knelt down, he put one hand lightly on her belly, and
stroked it for a few seconds, before leaning forward to lick the skin on
the insides of her breasts.  He pulled back.

   "I might push some of it onto the suit," he said sadly.  "Maybe you
should unhook it, like Mirriam did."

   "Mine hooks in the back," said Prudence.  "I'm not taking mine off
either."

   "Well, maybe I can push it aside ...  just a little bit," he said.

   "Careful," she warned.  Her hands were still held out to her sides, her
fingers messy.

   He gently slid a fingertip under the edge of her bra, and pulled it
sideways, leaning down to lick.

   "There's no sauce there," gasped Prudence, as his tongue hit the edge of
her areola.

   "Oh ...  sorry," he said, licking back between her breasts.  He went to
the other side and pulled at it.  He flicked his tongue inside the fabric,
and the very tip touched a stiff nipple.

   "Or there!" she moaned.

   His face appeared in front of hers, and he looked at her lips.

   "Your face is messy," he pronounced, and lowered his lips to suck at
hers, licking and nipping all around her lips, getting the sauce off of
them.

   He pulled back, and her eyes were closed.  She had a silly grin on her
face.

   "All better," he said, standing up.  His bulge was right by her hand.

   He turned around to see Mirriam sitting there, her hand over her mouth.

   "Well, at least you're doing better," he sighed.  "Now maybe I can get
something to eat."

   He went and sat down, and ate some more chicken, and a bite of homemade
bread.  He looked up to see Mirriam eating Jell-O salad, which, in the
heat, had become somewhat less than firm.  It was cherry, with peach slices
in it.  She almost had a bite to her mouth, when it rolled off the fork
and, to his delight, fell right in her cleavage.

   Everybody stopped eating as she stared down.  Ted and Prudence just
looked at her.  She snorted, which turned out to be a laugh she was trying
to keep inside, but couldn't, and it came out her nose.  Then she was
afraid she'd blown snot, and wiped her nose with her hand.  There was no
snot, and she looked up to see if anybody had seen it.  Then Prudence
giggled, and Mirriam burst out laughing.

   "I didn't do that on purpose!" she laughed.  "Really!  I did not drop
that on purpose!"

   "I believe you," said Ted.  "I still have to clean you up, though.  It's
my job."

   "I thought you were a teacher," she said, archly.

   "That Jell-O is red, and it's inside your bra," Ted pointed out.  "Red
stains really easily."

   "Shit!" yelped Mirriam.

   "Such language ...  tsk, tsk, tsk," said Ted, crawling over to her. 
"Lie back," he ordered her.

   "What?" she looked confused.

   If you lie back, it will pool on your skin, and not on the cloth.  I'll
hold the cloth up."

   "But ..." She waved her plate, which was in her hand.

   He took it and put it down.  Then he put one hand on her upper back, and
his other hand on her shoulder, and pushed her backwards.  With her feet
curled up beside her, she had no leverage to resist.  As she started to
fall, his hand on her back supported her, and his other hand slid between
her breasts to pluck at the middle of her bra, pulling it out, away from
her body.  The Jell-O slid out from under it, and ended up in her belly
button, by the time she was on her back.

   Unfortunately, or fortunately, from Ted's perspective, the way in which
he had grasped the front of her suit, managed to twist it in a way that
undid it.  With significant pressure on the sides, the suit popped open and
flipped to the sides, leaving her breasts completely bare.

   Mirriam, of course, knew what had happened.  She felt it happen.  She
was relatively sure it was an accident too, so all she did was try to grab
the cups and get them back on her breasts.  Her instinct was to sit up, and
she started to, at which time the elastic in the back of the top pulled the
cups out of her reach, behind her.

   She flopped back down on her back, and brought her hands to cover her
breasts.

   "Ohhhhhhh shit!" she moaned.

   "I thought I talked to you about your language," said Ted, his eyes
still wide from seeing her breasts.

   "Would you please help me get back together?" she moaned.

   "In a minute," he said.  "I still have to clean you up."

   He put his lips down and sucked the red-stained peach into his mouth. 
Then he probed her belly button with his tongue.

   "Ohhhhhh," she moaned, and a hand came down to his head.  He immediately
rose up, to look at the uncovered breast, and she whipped her hand back up.
He played a little game of prodding her belly button, and then looking up,
until she quit uncovering a breast to try to make him stop.  Then he licked
his way up her body, following the faint red trail of Jell-O, until he got
between her hands.

   "What are you doing?" she moaned.

   "Having a ball," he said, kissing as much of her breast as was
uncovered.

   His lips went to her hand, and kissed there, pushing, trying to get her
to uncover her breast.  She lifted her head.

   "Come on," he wheedled.  "Just a little taste?"

   "You're molesting me!" she whined.

   "This isn't even close to molesting you," he aid.  He grinned.  "Your
lips are dirty too, Mirriam."

   She couldn't stop him from kissing her, unless she moved her hands, so
he took advantage of that, sucking at her lips, and licking them, until she
finally began to kiss him back.  He kept that going, until one of her hands
came up to put behind his head.  She was fully involved in the kiss now,
and he gently cupped the breast she had abandoned, just holding it, at
first.  He let her breathe, still cupping her breast.

   "Just one, tiny, teeny little taste?" he whispered.

   He looked so hopeful that Mirriam giggled.

   "Just one," she said.

   He leaned back up, and, slowly, she let her other hand fall away from
her other breast, leaving them both bare.

   "They sag," she moaned.

   "They're gorgeous," he sighed.

   They did, in fact, sag a bit.  Their weight made them try to fall to her
sides, and he could have put one spread hand in the middle of her chest,
and only his thumb and little finger would have been touching breast flesh.
Instead, he put his hands on the sides of them, and pushed them together.
Her stiff nipples were suddenly only three inches apart.

   Then he leaned down and sucked and licked both nipples, not stopping. 
He went WAY beyond a teeny taste, and her nipples lengthened until they
were almost an inch long and rubbery hard.

   "Ohhhhh," she moaned.  "You have to stop that."

   "It's so much fun," he said, between sucks.

   "You're making me so horny!" she whined.

   "My plan is working perfectly," he said.

   Finally she stopped him, pushing him away, and sitting up.  She looked
down at her breasts.  Her nipples hadn't been that long or hard since she'd
breast fed.  She tried reaching behind her, to find her bikini top.

   "Let me help you," he said.  He got it, and pulled it back, off her
arms.

   "What are you doing!?" she moaned.

   "You don't need this anymore," he said.  "I've already seen them.  They
deserve to be seen.  You're a fabulously beautiful woman, Mirriam."

   "I can't just sit here, half naked!" she objected.

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "What if somebody comes along?"

   "I picked this place just because I knew they wouldn't," he said.

   "You planned to seduce us?"

   "Of course," he said.  "I thought I made that quite clear."

   "I can't breathe," she said, fanning her face.  It made her breasts
dance and wobble.  "Go molest Pru for a while."

   Ted turned to see Prudence, lying on her side.  She was flushed, from
watching him work on Mirriam's breasts.

   "I didn't spill anything," she said, through lowered lashes.

   "Who cares?" he asked.  "Mirriam is topless.  Don't you think you'd feel
more comfortable if you were the same?"

   "If you want it off, you have to take it off," she said, breathing
deeply.

   She rolled, to present her back to him.  It was seconds later that she
rolled back, tossing her yellow top aside.  Her breasts were full, and
hard. Her areolas had already gotten bigger and darker, and her nipples
were almost a maroon color.

   She lay back as he crawled closer, and left her arms at her sides.  She
loved it when Bobby sucked them, and she couldn't wait to find out if Ted
was as good at it.

   As she felt her pussy start weeping, she decided his touch was gentler.
He played with the nipple, licking it, and pushing at it, while Bobby
sucked strongly.  Ted sucked too, but it was for shorter periods, and with
less suction.  It made her want to be naked with him.

   "Stop!" she moaned.

   He did.

   "Lie down on your back," she said.

   He looked at her for a few seconds, but did as she told him to.

   "Stay right there!" she said, rolling to end up on her hands and knees.
She went to his plate, which had baked beans on it, and got a spoonful. 
Walking on her knees, she took it and splatted it on his chest.  Then she
giggled.

   "Mirriam!" she chirped.  "Look!  He's all messy too!"

   He lay there, laughing, as the women, on their hands and knees, started
licking and eating the beans off his chest.  Prudence sucked at his nipples
too.  He felt a hand on his erection, outside his suit.  He couldn't tell
whose it was, but took advantage of the fact that both women's breasts were
hanging down, and groped them with both hands.  Mirriam came up to kiss
him, and while she was doing that, he felt hands pulling at his trunks.  He
raised his hips, and they slid down his thighs.

   "Mirriam ...  look what I found," said Prudence.

   Mirriam reluctantly stopped kissing him, and looked down.  Her face
registered shock as she saw that Ted was completely naked now.  But what
shocked her the most was his prick.

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

   Ted Brandywine had the type of penis that isn't all that rare, but which
most women have never seen.  He was circumcised, which wasn't odd.  What
was odd was that, when he was erect, his prick started from a forest of
soft, brown hair, and then curved upward.  It didn't just curve upward,
though.  It curved a full ninety degrees.  If he was standing, it ended up
pointing straight up.  If he was lying down, like now, it leaned down to
touch his abdomen.  In this position, his prick formed an arch, going up
from his balls, and ending about an inch below his navel.

   "What HAPPENED to it?!" gasped Mirriam.

   "Nothing," he said, calmly.  "It just grew that way."

   She looked at it, and then at his face.  "You're kidding!"

   "Nope," he said.  "I've been a freak all my life."

   "It looks so different," said Prudence, leaning over to peer at it.

   "It works just fine," he said, sounding a little defensive.

   "Let's not go too fast, here," said Mirriam.  "You've already made
things go a lot faster than I intended them to."

   "I have to do this," moaned Prudence, reaching out to grasp the banana
looking prick.

   "Oh, please do," he moaned.

   "Wait!" she said.  She crawled to the pile of food and dipped her
fingers into the cherry pie.  She wobbled back to him, and smeared his
prick with the thick, red syrup.  She put her fingers in her mouth, and
sucked them clean.

   "It's not your fingers that you're supposed to be sucking!" he whined.

   She looked at him, her eyes hot.  "Be patient."

   "Prudence?" Mirriam's voice was shaky.  She was staring at the red pie
juice on the bent prick.  It had gotten on his abdomen, when Prudence had
let go of it, after coating it.

   "I learned this from the man who made me pregnant," panted Prudence,
staring into her friend's eyes.

   "No!" Mirriam's eyes were wide ...  shocked.

   "Watch," sighed Prudence.

   She studied the situation, for a few seconds.  Her hips really needed to
be up by his head, so she could lift his prick and slide her mouth onto it.
She moved, and, as she picked up his juicy penis, she felt his hand slide
through her leg hole, and onto her right buttock.  She leaned forward, and
closed her mouth around him, sucking, and pulling up.  His prick popped out
of her mouth, and hammered back down, the tip striking his abdomen again.

   "Yummy," sighed Prudence, tasting the cherries.

   Then she sucked him like she meant it.

   Mirriam sat down hard, not believing what she was seeing.  She'd heard
of this, of course, but had never done it.  And she'd never even THOUGHT
about watching another woman DO it.

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

   Prudence was having a good time.  His penis shape made it almost a
challenge to suck and stroke, because she couldn't do either of them in a
straight line.  His hand, in her bottoms, was titillating, but not
satisfying.  She finally gave up and reached back to push her bottoms down,
off her butt.  He helped, using both hands, and, as she lifted one leg, and
then the other, got them off of her.  He wasted no time pulling her leg
over his head.  Gripping her hips, he pulled his face up into her pussy,
and started doing some licking and sucking of his own.

   Mirriam was almost beside herself.  She could see clearly that both of
them were having a ball, but it was so foreign that she didn't know what to
think.  She suddenly realized that her fingers were pulling at her own
nipples.  Mirriam did not, as a practice, masturbate.  But this was so
electrifying, that she felt like she had to, or she'd lose her mind. 
Wiggling out of her bottoms, she lay back, turning her head to watch them,
while she stroked between her legs.

   Prudence squealed through what was obviously an orgasm.  The sounds they
were making ...  wet ...  slurping ...  sucking sounds ...  made Mirriam
feel faint.

   Prudence suddenly pulled up off the prick she was sucking.

   "Want ...  more ...  pie," she panted.  She lifted her leg, batting at
his hand, and started to crawl toward the pie.  Her flushed, thick pussy
lips winked at the other two.

   Ted had finally reached his limit.  She looked like she was presenting
herself to him, like the horses did, on the farm where he was raised.  He
lurched up and fell on her from behind.

   In this position, his prick, hanging down, pointed in the perfect
position to slip between her pussy lips.  He didn't even have to help it.
The alignment was as if fate had arranged it.  His hands went around her,
cupping her bulging belly, and his body weight came down on her lower back,
as his prick slid into her.

   Prudence stopped, and looked over her shoulder.

   "Oh Ted!" she moaned, feeling two inches of prick in her.

   "I'm sorry, honey," he moaned, thrusting forward, to get more of his
cock in her.  "I just couldn't resist."

   Prudence simply let her upper body down, like she did when Bobby took
her this way.  Ted felt completely different.  Bobby filled her, and
stretched her.  As Ted pushed his upper body back up, and put his hands on
her hips, the tip of his prick scraped along the back side of Prudence's
pussy, massaging it almost like a finger would.  As it got deeper, her
pussy forced it to straighten, and the tip scraped the back of her whole
channel.  It felt good to her, but it wasn't the stuff of orgasms.

   She let him rut in her, just enjoying the strange feel of this strange
penis.  Then, he bent back over her, reaching to cup her breasts, and
grunted.

   Ted Brandywine's sexual equipment was different in two ways.  While the
average man can produce an ounce, or maybe an ounce and a half of semen,
Ted's body produced three times that much.  When he came, he soaked
Prudence from stem to stern, and long drips of white rushed out of the
imperfect seal of his bent prick, in her straight pussy.

   He went limp, his weight supported by Prudence's hips and lower back. 
Then he pulled out, and rolled to flop on his back, between Prudence and
Mirriam.  Prudence got back up on all fours, and turned around, leaking
semen all over the place.

   "Naughty, naughty," she scolded, her voice making it clear she wasn't
unhappy at all.  "I wanted cherries on it." She surveyed his shrinking
prick.  The bend was going out of it, and it lay there, spermy and almost
straight.  "I guess that will have to do, though." She leaned down to suck
his prick clean.

   For Mirriam, seeing her friend put her mouth on that spermy prick was
too much.  The combination of her shock, and the orgasm that thundered
through her, from her fingers, rolled her eyes up in her sockets, and she
went limp.

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

   All three girls were sitting in a row on the bed, as Bobby stood in
front of them, his arms folded on his chest.  Bev was still naked,
but he ignored that.  He had no idea how to proceed.  At present, Flo and
Linda were sedate.  Well, Linda was pretty sedate.  Flo's eyes were still
rolling in her head, and she seemed to have developed a tic, in her left
cheek.  She was panting like she'd run a mile.

   "Can I explain?" asked Bev.

   Relieved, Bobby nodded.

   "You guys know I turned seventeen," she said.  Flo glowered at her. 
That was obvious.  Bev ignored the look.  "Mamma says I can go on dates now
...  but I don't know how to act."

   "You sure don't act like THAT!" shouted Flo.

   "Shut up!" said Bev, calmly.  For whatever reason, the older girl
subsided, as the younger girl stared at her.  "You don't date, Flo.  I
don't know why, but you don't want to.  So as far as I'm concerned, you
don't have any idea what you're talking about."

   There was a minor uproar, until Bobby calmed the fight.  He told Flo to
just listen, and Bev to go on.  He wasn't having any trouble with Linda,
who was sitting there listening.

   "Anyway, I know boys will want to do stuff with me ...  and want me to
do stuff with them.  That scares me."

   Flo's scowl, for the first time, faded.  That was exactly how SHE felt!
It scared her half to death to think about trying to deal with a boy ... 
alone ...  on a date.  It just made her petrified.

   Bev went on.  "So I asked myself where I could find a boy who could help
me understand all this stuff ...  so I wouldn't be so stupid about it. 
Bobby helped Mary, and ..."

   "MARY!?" squealed both of the other girls.

   "He helped her get ready to get married, so she'd know what to do ... 
and I caught them ...  like you caught us, just now ...  so I asked him to
teach me some stuff."

   "You're going to do that on dates?" whimpered Flo.

   "No!" she said.  "But I had to know what it feels like, or I might be
tempted to let a boy do that ...  just so I'd know.  I get really curious
about things.  You guys know that."

   "That's true," said Linda, speaking for the first time.

   Flo stared at Bobby.  "You said you and Bev weren't doing it!" she said,
her voice harsh.  "You lied to me!"

   "We're NOT ...  doing it," said Bobby.  "I don't put it in her.  She's
not ready for that."

   "But Mary was," Flo said, dully.

   "Yes, she was," said Bobby.  "Pretend I'm your brand new husband.  It's
our wedding night.  I want to have sex with you ...  right now.  Is that
going to be fun for you ...  right now?"

   Both girls shivered.  Oddly, Bev did not ...  but Bobby missed that.

   "Mary would have been just as scared, and she knew that.  She asked me
for help, and I helped her.  That's all that happened.  Bev asked me to
teach her some things, and show her what things felt like, so her curiosity
would be satisfied.  That's all that happened."

   It was quiet for a while.  Finally Linda spoke again.

   "Are you gonna teach me stuff too?" Her voice was high pitched, and full
of stress.

   "Linda, honey," said Bobby soothingly.  "I'm not going to ever do
anything you don't want.  You don't have to do anything at all.  They ASKED
me for help.  If you don't want it, it won't happen."

   "Oh," she said, looking relieved.

   "Can we go now?" asked Flo.  This was all shaping up just like Mary had
said.  Now it all made sense, that Mary somehow knew about what Bobby and
Bev had been doing in the back of that truck.  She didn't really have any
new information, except that Bobby was willing to do that disgusting thing,
between her legs.

   "There's one more thing," said Bev, standing up, and moving to stand by
Bobby.

   "What?"

   "You have to let Bobby kiss you, before you go."

   "Kiss us?" Flo's voice was tight.  She remembered the last time Bobby
had kissed her.  She'd had a hard time getting to sleep.  "Why?"

   "You found out.  You can't go tattle to Mamma.  It would ruin
everything. So you have to be part of it ...  but all you have to do is
kiss him ...  nothing else."

   "I'll do it," said Linda, standing up.  She loved kissing.  She didn't
think kissing Bobby would be that much fun, but she didn't mind.  She loved
him, after all.

   Linda envisioned him leaning down, and her turning her lips up, and a
peck.  She was unprepared to be taken into his arms, and to have her lips
covered by his surprisingly warm ones, or for his tongue to slither between
her slack, shocked lips.  She was unprepared for her breasts to be pressed
to his hard chest, and for this kiss to zing through her, making her feel
like she did on the big wooden roller coaster over in Wichita.  Basically,
Linda's reaction to being kissed by Bobby, was the same as every other
woman who had ever kissed him.  She went limp in his arms.

   He pulled away from her, and helped her stand, shakily.  Her eyes were
still half closed, and she had a dreamy smile on her face.  Flo was looking
at her wide-eyed, and there was no little indication of terror on her face.
She looked at Bobby.

   "Please don't kiss me like that," she moaned.

   "It was just a kiss," said Bobby.  "No big deal."

   "But I've only been kissed once," she whined.

   "It's just a kiss," he said.  "I won't grab your butt, or your boobs, or
any of that stuff."

   Flo was at war with herself again.  There was no woman on the planet
that could look at Linda, standing there, smiling dreamily, and not come to
the conclusion that it had been a fantastic kiss.  She didn't want a
fantastic kiss.  The first one had been nice, but when Bobby had kissed her
in the back of the truck, it had been better than nice.  She didn't think
she could take fantastic.

   "I already kissed you," she said, suddenly.  "In the pickup, that night
...  remember?"

   "I kissed YOU," said Bobby.  "You didn't kiss me back."

   "Ohhhh please don't make me do this," she moaned.

   He frowned.  His arms came down.  "If it scares you that much ...  OK. I
don't want to hurt you, or scare you.  I love you too much to do that."

   "But she'll be able to tell!" moaned Bev.

   "Then she'll tell," he said.  "I'm not going to ruin my sister's life by
making her kiss me.  We'll just have to try to explain it to Mamma."

   "But then I won't get MY turn," wailed Linda.

   "I thought you didn't want a turn," said Bobby.

   "Not NOW!" she moaned.  "But I might later!"

   "Go on," he said, sadly.  "Bev, get dressed.  Everybody out.  I'm
tired."

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

   Out in the hallway there was a major storm brewing.

   "You have to ruin EVERYTHING!" hissed Bev.  "You always do!"

   "I do not!" said Flo, in defense, even though she was a year older.  Bev
obviously had WAY more experience with boys than she did, and that made Flo
feel younger, somehow.

   "You were all freaked out," said Bev.  "And you'll squeal to Mamma.  I
know you will.  Well, if you do, you can just forget about ever talking to
me again, because I'll never say another word to you.  I'll act like those
Quaker people, and act like you don't even exist!"

   "I'm not going to tell!" said Flo, her voice harsh.

   "Yes you will!" said Bev.  "You'll think about it, and never mind that
Christy and Charley Bellows actually FUCK together! ...  You'll get all
weirded out and go tell Mamma, and it will ruin EVERYTHING!"

   "I WILL NOT!" Flo almost yelled.

   "Then go kiss him," said Bev, folding her arms over her breasts.  "I
dare you!"

   Flo didn't think about the fact that Bev's dare didn't make even
rudimentary sense, in the circumstances.  The purpose for kissing Bobby was
so that she couldn't tell on them, because she had done it herself.  She'd
sworn not to tell anyway, so no kiss was, technically, needed.  But she
didn't think of that.  She heard the dare, and her anger and frustration
boiled over.

   "ALL RIGHT!" she hissed.  "Will you shut your mouth then?"

   "Yes, I will," said Bev, sweetly.

   Flo whirled and stalked back down the hall to Bobby's door.  She went
through it like she had before, without knocking, and stalked on over to
his bed, where he was lying.  He arm had been over his eyes, but he'd
lifted it, to see what the noise of her entry was.

   "What?" he asked.

   She said nothing, but went to him and leaned over, closing her eyes and
pursing her lips.  She expected her lips to touch his, but his hands
stopped her head.

   "What are you doing?" he asked.

   She opened her eyes.  "Kissing you, so they'll leave me alone!"

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

   "They won't leave me alone," she whined.

   "You do not have to kiss me," he said, spacing his words for emphasis.

   "Just kiss me and let me go," she moaned in frustration.

   He hesitated just a second or two, and then pulled her lips to his.  He
didn't mash his lips against hers, like he had with Linda.  Nor did he push
his tongue into her mouth.  Instead he gave her a warm, loose-lipped kiss
that was tender, and gentle.  He moved his lips on hers, breaking the kiss
only to reapply it a fraction to the left, or two fractions to the right,
making it into ten kisses, all of which were gentle, almost feather light.

   Her reaction was a surprise to him, but it completely confounded her. 
In the middle of it all, she crawled up to lie on him, so it could go on
and on.  She felt like she was flying, or floating.  He tasted good, and he
felt good.  It was Flo who pressed harder ...  more demanding, until she
was writhing on top of him, bruising her lips against his.  Then he gave
her his tongue, and her shocked reaction to that was to lash hers out, and
then suck at the tip of his, by instinct.

   He finally pushed her up, and she looked wild-eyed at his face, panting
hard.

   "Thank you," he said softly.  "That was a really good kiss."

   Like Mary, and then Bev had before her, Flo fled, her emotions in an
uproar.  Never had she felt anything remotely like what was raging through
her body.  She didn't understand it, and it scared her to death.  She
pushed past Bev, who was standing, slack jawed, and Linda, who was
paralyzed with shock at what she'd seen.

   "Close the door, please," said Bobby softly.

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

   Mirriam drifted up, toward the light.  She opened her eyes, and saw
Prudence and Ted leaning over her, with anxious expressions on their faces.
She hadn't been out long ...  maybe fifteen or twenty seconds, and the
afterglow of her orgasm was still soaking her body.

   "Hi," she said, not sure what had happened.

   "Are you OK?" asked Prudence.

   "I feel wonderful," said Mirriam.  "Why?"

   It all rushed back into her memory, and her eyes widened.  She sat up.
She was naked!  They were all naked!  He had fucked Prudence!  She looked
at Prudence, who, other than being stark naked, looked fine.  She looked at
Ted who, other than being stark naked, looked fine too.  In fact, he looked
more normal to her eyes now than he had.  That's because his penis was
hanging, normally, between his legs.  It was no longer the bizarre thing it
had been when it was being jammed into Prudence's pussy.

   "We think you passed out," said Prudence, her voice worried.

   "I think I just got over excited," said Mirriam, remembering now how
frantically she had been rubbing her pussy.

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

   They hadn't actually eaten ...  not really ...  and all the activity had
made them hungry.  They ate in silence, really interested in filling their
stomachs.  They ate more carefully too, now that they weren't playing. 
None-the-less, when Ted was eating a piece of pie, he managed to drop a
hunk in his lap.  It landed on his penis.  He looked up.  Both women had
been watching him eat.  There's something pleasurable to a woman who sees a
man enjoying her cooking.  Mirriam, in fact, had been thinking about how
Joe had always made it obvious that he loved her cooking, and this man was
doing the same thing.

   "Your turn," said Prudence, who was lying comfortably.  She appeared to
be completely comfortable being naked, and was sprawled out on the pillows.
Her pussy lips were still milky white.  "I can't move.  I'm stuffed."

   "I can't do that," said Mirriam, paling.

   "Of course you can," said Prudence.  "There's nothing to it."

   "I've never done that before," said Mirriam.

   "Neither had I, before he taught me.  I love doing it now." Prudence
sighed.

   "How about if I just get the cherry pie off of it?" asked Mirriam,
wanting to try this, but not wanting to at the same time.

   "That would make me happy," said Ted, smiling.

   He lay down, as she crawled over to him.  In the process his penis
moved, and the chunk of pie actually fell off onto his pubic hair.  Still,
it was lying right beside his limp penis, when she arrived.  She was very
cognizant of her cheek rubbing against his penis as she leaned down to suck
up the bit of pie.  She pushed her cheek against his penis, and it moved.

   She sat up, tasting.  "That's good pie, Pru," she said.  "I need to get
me a piece of that."

   "I have more!" said Ted, hurriedly.  He picked up his unfinished plate,
and dumped it on his abdomen.

   Mirriam laughed, but gamely leaned down to eat the pie off of him. 
Again, she was cognizant of his penis lying harmlessly, right there.  She
lifted her face, which was smeared with pie.  Ted pulled her to him, and
licked and sucked her face clean.  It was like a makeout session, by the
time he was done.  She looked back at his cock.  Slowly, almost like she
was trying to sneak up on it, she moved toward it.  She stared at it for a
few seconds, and then picked it up with two fingers.  In disbelief, she
stuck her tongue out and touched it to the shiny head.

   "Mmmmm," he said, appreciatively.

   It looked so harmless, like this, and Mirriam gave it a little
wet-lipped kiss on the tip.  It swelled in her hand, and she watched,
fascinated as it grew thicker.  She had never examined Joe's penis.  It had
always been hard, whenever she'd seen it, and he buried it in her, whenever
it was hard.  As it began to bend, she kissed the tip again, delighting in
how it grew even firmer.  SHE was doing this!  SHE was making it hard
again! She felt a surge of lust, and tentatively took the tip between her
lips.  There was no taste at all.  There was a smear of cherry pie on his
abdomen, where she'd missed it, and she wiped through it with fingers and
spread it over the head, which was now bullet shaped.  She closed her mouth
over the whole head, and sucked.

   She was amazed at how wonderful this thing felt in her mouth ...  so
smooth ...  so firm ...  so warm.  Within five minutes she was a confirmed
cock-sucker, though she didn't think about it like that.  It grew again to
its full length, bent as if it had been broken and healed badly.  She
sucked, putting as much of it in her mouth as she could manage.  His hands
came to play with her pony tail, which was hanging past her cheek.

   "Wait!" His voice was tight.  His hips had been moving for several
minutes.

   She pulled off, reluctantly, and looked up at his face.  He sat up.

   "I want my desert now," he said.

   "What?" she was confused.

   "Lie down," he said.  "I don't want to dirty up another plate.

   She felt vulnerable as she lay down, naked, but relaxed as he brought
the pie next to her, and dribbled pieces of it on her breasts, and belly.

   She sighed as he ate it off of her, sucking her nipples again, and
licking all over her breasts.  She sucked in her stomach, as he licked
there.  He kept going, and she suddenly knew what he intended.  He had done
this to Prudence, and her cries of joy had been loud and passionate.  She
felt a stab of fear, at the unknown, but spread her legs anyway.

   He paused, smiling gently.  "Remember when you said tongues were
probably wagging about you two coming out here with me?"

   She nodded, panting.

   "Well, you're about to get one tongue to wag, at least." He grinned, and
then dipped his face between her thighs.

   His first touch was so gentle she almost couldn't feel it, as the tip of
his tongue split her vulva.  Then he probed deeply with it, and she arched
her hips, shocked at how it felt.  When his lips closed over her clit, the
electricity of it made her whine.  She had to rub herself so hard it almost
hurt, when she tried to have an orgasm by touching herself, but she knew,
instinctively, that his mouth would bring her one within a minute or two,
if he kept doing this.

   He did, and she didn't even realize she had her hands in his hair,
pulling him against her.  It was a completely different kind of orgasm, too
...  sweet, almost painful, and it stole through her body like liquid
soaking into a towel.  She moaned her complaint when he stopped, and kissed
his way up, over her belly, to suck at her breasts again.  She didn't
realize his penis, again perfectly aligned with the pussy it was nudging
into, was pressing into her, until the head slipped past her pussy lips.

   His face hovered over hers, and she looked up.

   "Please," she whispered, not knowing whether she was begging him not to
do it, or begging him to go deeper.

   "My pleasure," he whispered, kissing her.  His hips lunged forward.

   She hadn't had a penis in her in over ten years.  It was devastating.

   Neither Mirriam nor Ted were actually aware of the hypothesis of Earnst
Grafenberg, the German gynecologist, who, in around 1950, theorized there
might be a bundle of nerves, glands and ducts, wrapped around the urethra
in a female, associated with the Skene's gland.  That bundle of tissues was
believed to lie on the other side of the vaginal wall, in the front, about
a third, or half way into the vagina.  It would be called the "G spot",
beginning in 1981, named after Dr.  Grafenberg.

   Neither of them was aware that Mirriam had one, or that the peculiar
bend in Ted's penis made it the perfect tool to probe and rub that spot, as
it slid in and out of her pussy.  In truth, before Ted started his new
life, the only woman who had felt his bent prick in her pussy was his
ex-wife, who, like some women, had no Skene's gland, and therefore, no G
spot.  He had been wasted on her.

   He was not, however, wasted on Mirriam.  His prick rubbed her G spot
quite nicely, and, within two minutes of him penetrating her, and then
sawing his prick in and out of her, Mirriam had her very first orgasm
involving that spot she didn't know she had.

   She sobbed, laughed and wailed her way through that orgasm, and then
begged him never to stop, as his prick started massaging her G spot all
over again.  By the time he flooded her with the same amount of sperm he
had put into Prudence, she had shuddered and writhed through two more of
those unbelievably intense orgasms.  In her case, however, his prick, once
shoved as far into her as he could get it, and from the front position, was
a much better seal.  Her cervix, stretched by eight babies, was loose to
begin with.  It's forward facing position, leading to the womb that lay in
front of and above it, also accommodated Ted's bend.  Basically, the tip of
his prick, pressing forward, neatly poked the mucus plug out of her cervix,
and his jets of sperm-laced semen pushed it on into her womb, floating on a
very dangerous river of potent sexual fluid.

   Basically, the shape of Ted's penis was ideal for making a woman very,
very happy, and then very, very pregnant.

   ======================================= Bobby noticed that his mother,
after her picnic with Prudence and Ted, was visibly brighter for days.  She
hummed, as she did little tasks, and didn't seem to pay as much attention
to where he was going.  He assumed she was worrying less too.

   That was good, because once Jill had succumbed to his charms, she wanted
him as often as possible.  Her energetic lovemaking was a joy, and she
always cooed and kissed him when he fertilized her.

   Even in September, when she informed him she'd missed a period, her
ardor was unabated.  It was as if she didn't really believe she was
actually pregnant, and wanted to make sure. 
======================================

   Jill's relationship with Bobby went on, but this particular portion of
Bobby's life has been long in the telling, and we will save the rest of
Jill's story for later installments.  There is other news too, that will be
explored more intimately in later descriptions of Bobby's life.

   For now, be relieved, as Tilly and Jake were, that Bobby got her
pregnant again in August of that year.

   And there was general celebration in the Dalton house when, in September
of that year, Mary came to visit her family, and excitedly announced that
she was going to have a baby.  Married on July fourteenth, her period
should have started on the twenty-first, shortly after she and Fred got
back from their honeymoon.  She glowed, publicly, about how wonderful the
honeymoon had been, and blushed, when her mother said it must have been
wonderful if she was pregnant so quickly.

   Privately, in the barn, under the auspices of helping Bobby unload and
stack chicken feed, she celebrated a little more intimately, demanding that
Bobby take her in the hayloft, where she writhed under him as his prick dug
deep into her pussy.

   "I used almost everything you taught me," she moaned.  "Fred and I are
so happy, and he is a wonderful lover," she panted, "but I'll always love
you too, Bobby."

   "And I'll always love you," he groaned, pressing deep to flood her sex
with his semen.

   As they rested, she told him this wouldn't happen often ...  maybe only
once or twice a year ...  but that sometimes she would still need him in
that special way only he could fill her.

   Then, because it wouldn't happen often ...  she had him fill her again,
before she left, to return to her new home.
   ====================================== FThe End of Book Four
