Storiesonline.net ------- Orchard Flower (Version Charlie) by Lubrican Copyright© 2009 by Lubrican ------- Description: Bob fled the humiliation of losing his fiance to a professional athlete and landed in the wilds of South Dakota. Pure chance got him to the Simmons apple orchard where he hired on to make enough money to get his car fixed. He never left. He hopes some day to be able to thank that jock for stealing his girlfriend. Codes: MF Mf cons rom het 1st oral pett preg slow ------- ------- Foreword This story is written in three versions, having the same, or very similar beginnings, which branch out into different endings. You are reading version Charlie. In Version Alpha a mother and daughter compete for Bob's attention, and mom wins. In version Bravo, the daughter resists her mother's attempts to separate her from Bob and she pursues him. In version Charlie, neither woman wants to give up. Version Charlie has greater differences in the beginning than the other two stories. It is recommended that even if you've read the other versions, you read all of this one so the differences, and how they affect the later parts of the story, will be clear. ------- Chapter 1 Coincidence is an astonishing thing if you take the time to stop and think about it. Most of us don't. Oh, we think about it fleetingly, as it touches our lives now and then, but we don't actually give it the honor it is due. Some people think there isn't any such thing as coincidence, and that everything is preordained. They would call coincidence fate. I'm not one of those people. Coincidence is neither good nor bad, in and of itself. The results can be either, of course, but you can't blame that on coincidence. Take, for example the coincidence of my fiancé being involved in a fender bender with an up an rising NFL football star. Having been to a party and had a few drinks, he poured on the charm to talk her out of calling the police. She, it turns out, is susceptible to charm laid on by a jock. Everybody said it was good I found out before the wedding ... like that would make me feel better or something. Or, there is the coincidence that, when I left Chicago to get away from my ex and her new boyfriend, and was playing that game where you open an atlas and just put your finger down someplace, my finger landed on Hot Springs South Dakota. Hot springs seemed like as good a place as any to just start over. It was close to things like Mount Rushmore and Sturgis. I'd never seen Mount Rushmore and, while I didn't own a bike, I might some day, and Sturgis would be right there, up the road. I'd never even ridden a bike, but I was feeling a little crazy-brash, so who knew what might happen. That gives you some idea of the mood I was in. A little research told me there were about as many people in the national cemetery located in Hot Springs as there were walking the streets. That was fine with me because it meant having to get to know fewer people than had attended my high school. Its economic basis was tourism, and that was fine too, because all those people would show up once and never come back. That also tells you a bit about the mood I was in. I was just looking for someplace to hide for a while, where nobody would know me and I could be something other than a certified public accountant. Tourist traps are always looking for workers, and being dirt poor fit with the way I was feeling just about then. There was also a big wild mustang ranch located there, and I had fantasies of magically becoming a cowboy, riding the range and living clean. Hmmm ... shouldn't they be called horseboys on a horse ranch? Who knows? Like most men who go off half cocked in pursuit of healing a broken heart I was a dreadfully uneducated and unprepared man. Of course I have to mention another man named Paul who was living my fantasy, working with horses every day, and who was sitting on top of one which made him the highest point around during a thunder storm. It was coincidence that put him right there, where the lightning bolt would strike, killing both him and his horse. The string of coincidences wasn't over yet, though. It was coincidence that my radiator lasted precisely long enough to get me just twenty miles short of Hot Springs, and that the first people to drive by were Paul's widow and daughter. Up in that part of the world, people stop for folks in trouble. It's as unlike Chicago as it's possible to be. And it wasn't just because they had their dog with them, which might have made them feel safer. Lynne Simmons and her daughter Jill were something of a shock to my system. Lynne was one of those women who looks a little older than she really is, because she spends so much time outdoors. She had a windblown kind of look to her. But at the same time, her body just didn't match the impression of being older. Her face made her look like she might be in her forties, but her body said she was Jill's big sister. It was the kind of body that draws a man's eyes like a magnet. She was wearing tight jeans that were faded almost white in places, and a checkered shirt that was packed full of femininity. Wisps of sun bleached hair fell from under a cowboy hat that sat over pale blue eyes that didn't look at me suspiciously at all. She later told me that was because their dog, Buster, had given me his seal of approval. She trusted that dog's judgment. Jill, on the other hand, was thirteen and looked exactly like thirteen-year-old girls do everywhere. She was kind of lanky and gawky, with a pony tail. She was slim, but had fresh young curves that were well on the way to becoming lush, like her mother's, some day. Jill was one of those girls who promised to be a looker in a few years. What made her a shock to me was how willing she was to talk to me as Lynne drove me to Bud's Auto Repair, in Hot Springs. A lot of thirteen-year-old girls are uninterested in strangers, and in strange men in particular. Not Jill. She practically interrogated me, asking dozens of questions about where I was from, and what Chicago was like, and why I left. Her mother finally barked at her to stop being a "nosey ninny." I swear that's that she said. Jill was undeterred. "I'm just trying to learn something, mom. Aren't you always harping on that ... telling me to read books and all that?" "There's a difference between learning things and snooping into other people's business," said Lynne. "I don't mind," I said. "Back in Chicago a girl like Jill wouldn't even talk to me." Lynne darted me a look as she steered the pickup down the road. Jill was sandwiched between us. Buster was happily letting the wind rush by in the bed of the truck. It was fairly close quarters in the cab. But it was Jill who spoke. "Why's that?" she asked. "Are you some kind of sex offender?" I was impressed with Lynne's ability to recover her equilibrium and get the truck back on the highway so quickly. "What?" asked Jill, sounding injured. "I've heard about registered sex offenders. There's even a place you can go on the Internet to see where they live and stuff. We don't have any in Hot Springs, though." That was Jill. She was - and I say it fondly - a motor mouth who saw no problem with saying exactly what was on her mind, whatever that might be. She wasn't trying to push anybody's buttons. She was just honest and curious. Her curiosity (and probably my desire for somebody to feel sorry for me) was how my situation came out. I told them I had set off into the big wide world to find my fortune, just like some boy in a fairy tale. Jill thought it sounded cool. Lynne thought I was crazy. "You were a CPA making good money and you threw all that away because a woman broke your heart?" she asked, shaking her head. "There are more women in the world, you know." "I can't believe you said that!" said Jill. And THAT is how I found out that Lynne's husband, who was Jill's father, had died when he was struck by lightning when Jill was six. Jill had been trying to get her mother to go on dates in the last couple of years, probably because Jill was at the age to think about boys, and dates, and all that sort of thing. Lynne was resisting. "Let's not go into this again," she sighed, as her daughter ratted her out to a complete stranger. "I told you, I still have feelings for your father." Jill turned her curious face towards me. "Do you still have feelings for your girlfriend?" I felt my heart wrench in my chest. I was really feeling sorry for myself. "I guess I do," I said. "I don't want to, but I do." Lynne had helped me out, picking me up like that, so I tried to help her out by passing along some of my wisdom to her daughter. "So I guess I know how your mother feels." It backfired on me. Maybe on Lynne too, because Jill slumped. "I hope I never fall in love, then." ------- At Bud's Auto Repair there was actually nobody named Bud. I found this out when I tried to be friendly and asked jovially if Bud was around. I later found out there had been no Bud since 1953, when Bud retired and sold his business. There had been four owners since then, none of whom felt the need to rename the business. The current owner was named Randy, and he said he'd have my car towed to his shop. "It'll take me about a week to get a radiator and get it installed. Cost you somewhere in the neighborhood of eight hundred dollars," he said, wiping his hands on a rag. I had about fifteen hundred in my bank account. More Americans live paycheck to paycheck than you would believe. Most Americans really ARE three paychecks from being homeless. But that wasn't my primary problem. My problem was that staying someplace at tourist rates for that week would eat up the rest. "Know anybody who's hiring?" I asked Randy hopefully. "Nope." He was a man of few words. "So you want me to fix your car or not?" He also got right to the point. "Yeah," I sighed. "I guess so. Where's the cheapest place to stay. And where do you recommend I start looking for a job?" "Beats me," said Randy. "I got a place to stay, and I ain't looked for a job since I bought this place." I could tell I was going to like the people around here a lot. I turned to find Lynne still standing there. Her hands were on her hips and her head was tilted slightly, like she was looking at a picture in an art gallery, trying to figure out what it meant. Jill was peering into the open hood of a car that had been left for Bud - who didn't exist - to repair. Buster was sitting on the ground between Lynne and me. When she spoke, Lynne's voice sounded distinctly wary. "I could use some temporary help at my place," she said. Randy's head whipped around and he stared at her. You'd have thought I was a known serial killer or something. I later found out that he was among the dozen or so men who had tried to get her to go out on a date with him in the time that had passed since Paul died. She had turned them all down, and had never had a hired man. Jill thought that was a capital idea, and bounced around like a basketball being played with by the Harlem Globetrotters. All that to explain the string of coincidences by which I landed on Lynne Simmons' horse ranch and apple orchard, forty miles east of Hot Springs, South Dakota. ------- Lynne was in the unhappy situation where she had a ranch that could produce a good living, except that she didn't have enough help to make that happen. And hiring full time people would eat up the added income, so there had never been a strong drive to do that. Agriculture is one of those occupations that requires you to borrow a hell of a lot of money on the faith that the crop will come in, or the herd will sell later, and you can repay the loan. If you can't repay that loan, you can lose the farm, literally. Instead of taking that chance, Lynne took what she knew about horses, quarter horses in this instance, and what she knew about running an orchard, and eked out a living for herself and her daughter. The land had belonged to her father and grandfather before him. When she married Paul, the plan was to have a son to carry on the tradition. Jill had come along and they were working on having that son when Paul got killed. It was just a fluke - or coincidence - that Lynne's parents had planted the apple orchard at all. If you talked to commercial growers, they'd say South Dakota was all wrong for apples. Lynne would have told them to tell it to the apples that rotted on the ground each year because she couldn't harvest the entire thirty acres and get them to market. And while she knew a lot about horses and apples, there are things to do on a ranch that take a man's hand. I'm not being sexist. There are differences between women and men, and some of those differences are physical. I know what you're thinking, but that's not what I'm talking about. Sure, a woman might be able to lift as much as a man - a few times. But it's going to wear harder on her body than on the man's. That's just a fact. And another fact is that a woman who is five-eight and weighs a hundred and twenty, just isn't likely to be able to perform the same physical feats as a man who is almost six feet tall and weighs two hundred pounds. It's not gender bias. It's simply physics. Give me a two hundred pound six-foot female body builder and she'll probably be able to work me into the ground. But neither Lynne nor Jill were that woman. As a result, there was about seven years of semi-neglect all around the ranch. It wasn't all because they were women. A lot of it was because there were only two of them, and they were both busy putting out this fire or that one, trying to make a living. And when the tractor stopped running, and it cost too much to have somebody come out and fix it, and neither woman had time to learn how to trouble shoot and repair a tractor ... well it just sat there and they improvised. Of course I didn't know how to repair a tractor. Not when I first got there. But I could do many of the hundred other things that needed doing, as long as I was supervised by somebody who could tell me what the heck to do. That turned out to be Jill, mostly. Which is how coincidence led me to have, as one of my best friends, a thirteen-year-old girl. ------- There was a bunkhouse on the ranch. It hadn't been USED as a bunkhouse for sixty years, but it was there. It was full of junk, having been turned into storage when America no longer needed horses in quantity to pull freight, or act as primary transportation for people. So my first job was to clear me a place to stay. It was June which, in Southwestern South Dakota, is like the fall weather I loved so much back in Illinois. That night Lynne gave me some blankets and a pillow, and I was as happy as a pig in shit. Or whatever pigs love to be in. You know what I mean. For two days I worked around the house and barns, cleaning stuff up, and hauling trash off. The stables were clean, but the manure pile was about ten feet tall. The tractor had a bucket on the front, but the tractor didn't run. I wasn't a mechanic, but I had two arms, which is all that's required to use a shovel. I can't complain, because Jill was right there with me, shoveling it in the back of the truck and then back out of the truck a mile away into a draw that was the equivalent of their land fill. I thought I might actually die. It wasn't because it was back-breaking work. OK, maybe it was. But it wasn't because the manure pile was wet in the middle, and greasy and smelly and soaked through my shoes within an hour while Jill's boots repelled it like Rain-X on a windshield. OK, maybe it was that too. But it was honest work and I got to talk to Jill all day while I did it, and she didn't mock me when I had to sit down and rest my back. She did that too, but not every ten minutes, like me. And I felt pretty proud when that fricking pile of fricking horse shit was gone. I mean I'd helped make it be gone, and from now on whenever I uttered the term "Horse shit!" it would have a hell of a lot more emotion behind it than it ever had before. Then I fixed fences for three days, and I was SURE I was going to die. Again, it wasn't because it was back breaking work. OK, maybe it was. But it wasn't because it was dangerous, pulling wire with the pickup, and then getting it even tighter with a come-along until the wire was taut as a guitar string. And if it snapped, it could wrap you up in barbed wire like a birthday present for a cannibal. OK, maybe it was that too. All I know is that each night, when I got back to the bunkhouse and fell into bed, I felt like it would be easier to just expire and get it over with than get up and take a (cold) shower in the bunkhouse bathroom (and I use that term with tongue planted FIRMLY in cheek), so I could get up at five the next morning and start all over again. ------- Chapter 2 One of the things I learned, being on the farm was how valuable the friendship of a dog can be. Buster was always there to greet me when I stepped out of the bunkhouse. He was always glad to see me any time of the day, no matter what I smelled like. And he was happy in an obvious way about the attention I gave him. He was glad I was in his life, and I was glad he had come into mine. Of course if given a choice to get attention from me or Jill, he'd go to Jill in a heartbeat, but I didn't mind. I had to admit I'd like her petting me too. That would be worth staying alive for, even if it made me feel faintly perverted. To be honest there was another thing worth staying alive for. That was Lynne's cooking. Actually, eating was the high point of each day all week long. Lynne could cook, and she cooked what the pundits call "comfort food." I could have gotten three dollars apiece for her hot rolls back in Chicago. And her pies? I could eat an entire pie at one sitting, even if I had to use a broomstick to cram it down my throat. I would have been entirely happy looking like Jabba the Hutt if I had been able to eat her pies all day long. Except that I worked so hard I COULD have eaten a pie a day and never gained a fricking ounce. Jill always rode out with me, telling me where to drive the four-wheel-drive truck to do the next job. Then, when it was time for lunch, she'd drive the truck back to the house, get food, and bring it back out to where I was still working. If we needed anything, she'd go back and get it. I worked. That's all I did. Except for when we got to break for lunch. Even Lynne's cold comfort food was delicious. And in the evening, after I'd stopped shivering from the ice cold water in the bunkhouse shower, I'd go up to the farmhouse where there would be beef and mashed potatoes, with green beans, or black-eyed peas, or corn, and fresh baked hot rolls and butter. And pie for dessert. Actually, the work wasn't so bad either, all things considered. It got my mind off of cheating almost-spouses and jocks with cocks that probably hang halfway to their knees, and who drive BMWs instead of a six-year-old Chevy. And there was something that stirred my heart when I looked down a stretch of fence and saw nothing but shiny barbs on tight wire, stapled to posts that, if not perfectly perpendicular to the ground, at least all tilted the same direction at the same angle. And then it was Saturday, and Randy called to tell Lynne my car was ready. I found out about it when she rode out on one of her horses, to bring us lunch. It was roast beef sandwiches and potato salad and celery sticks with peanut butter spread on them. She had a jug of tea too. She spread it out on the tailgate of the truck and ate with us. "You should probably wrap things up after lunch and come on in," she said. "We need to get you to town before he closes for the day." "Yeah," I said, suddenly wondering what I was going to do that night. I had been working for my room and board, so I hadn't spent anything. Suddenly my dark and dusty room, and that cold water in the bunkhouse shower didn't seem all that much to put up with, considering it was free and I got to eat like I was eating right then. "I don't want you to go!" wailed Jill. "Stop that!" barked her mother. "Bob has his own life to get on with." "Not really," I said, without even thinking about it first. It just came gushing out of my mouth. "Why can't he stay?" whined Jill. "He's actually pretty good at doing stuff." "Jill, we can't afford to pay him, and this isn't the kind of job he's looking for anyway," said Lynne. "Well, maybe," I blurted. Which is how coincidence led me to extend my stay at the Simmons horse ranch and apple orchard for a month ... and then another month, during which I found out what harvesting apples was like, and then two more months, at which point I had to ask for some more blankets. I was used to the cold showers by now, but I liked to sleep warm. Lynne looked at me over the rim of her coffee cup. It was late, and Jill had been sent to bed. "How long are you going to stay?" she asked, suddenly. "Is that your way of saying I need to move on?" We'd gotten to know each other pretty well in the almost six months I'd been there. There was little formality between us any longer. I had settled into what now felt like a reasonable existence. I liked Lynne a lot. I adored Jill. I had a place to stay and the best food I'd ever eaten. I watched a little TV with them some nights, but mostly I read books in the bunkhouse. I had gotten special dispensation from Janet Biggs, the town librarian, to exceed the five-book limit because we only went to the library once a month, and I could usually go through ten books a month easily if they were any good. "Of course not," she said. "I'm just wondering how much longer you're going to enjoy this cave man routine you're in." "Cave man?" I could feel my eyebrows rise. "Bob, no man I ever met enjoyed sleeping in an old bunkhouse by himself, taking cold showers, and working his ass off every day for nothing." She looked almost irritated. I thought about it. She was right. Before I had gotten there, if somebody would have described it all and said "Want to do that for six months?" I'd have laughed and suggested they were crazy to even ask. "I guess I feel like I'm actually doing something worthwhile," I said, realizing that was exactly how I felt. She thought about that for a half minute. "Well ... you ARE doing something worthwhile," she said slowly. "You're making Jill's and my lives a lot easier. I just don't see what you're getting out of it." She frowned. "At first I thought you were angling for sex..." She obviously hadn't meant to say that out loud, and her hand came to slap over her mouth. I blinked. "Sex?" Her cheeks got pink. "At first, when you wanted to stay ... I thought you were trying to wiggle your way close to me ... that you had some kind of nefarious plan." I laughed. I laughed out loud. The first thing that popped into my head was that any man who attempted to pull something over on Lynne Simmons was looking for trouble. She was a smart, tough woman. I'd been there long enough by now to know she could work me into the ground. I'd thought more than once that it wasn't fair that she was having to scrape along, because she deserved to be a LOT better off than she was, both financially and in the comfort department. She looked like I'd slapped her and I realized she had interpreted my laughter as an indication of what I thought of her as a woman ... a sexual being ... that I was rejecting her outright. "It's not what you think!" I said, holding up a hand. "You're a babe. But you're also a man-eater, and I knew better than to..." Her face got dark red. You know how sometimes they say that thunderclouds come onto someone's face? It was like that. I knew I had made things worse. "Wait!" I gasped. "Let me explain!" "You've explained enough, thank you," she said darkly. It's bedtime. Hank Thompson is coming over tomorrow to bale our hay and it's going to take all day to get it put up." She stood up. "Lynne," I moaned. "Don't be mad. I just said it wrong." "Yes, you did," she agreed. Then she turned and stomped out of the room. ------- The next morning I was sitting at the table when Jill came in. She was dressed and ready to go to work too. Lynne had said she had to move things from the washer to the dryer. The griddle was heating for waffles. "What did you do?" asked Jill, as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Yesterday Mom said she was going to tell you you could sleep in the spare bedroom from now on. But when I got up to go to the bathroom the bedroom was empty and the light was still on in the bunkhouse. You obviously stayed out there last night. Nobody in his right mind would do that if he could stay in here. Ergo you did something to make her mad. So what did you do?" She was a smart girl, just like her mother. "I'm in my right mind!" I said, sounding wounded. "Yeah, right," she said. We had gotten to be even better friends than Lynne and I. I now preferred Jill's company over that of anybody I could remember back in Chicago. Lynne's too, for that matter. "I just said I wasn't trying to hit on her," I said, "and she took it the wrong way." I frowned. "She said I could stay in here?" "She asked me if I thought it was a good idea," said Jill, sitting down. She shrugged. "I told her I didn't know why you ever stayed in the bunkhouse at all." "Well," I said. "Back then I was a strange man, and she was smart enough to keep me at arms length." "You're still a strange man," she said, deadpan. ------- Long story short, I did get invited to live in the house with the women. Now I know what you're thinking. Single guy, living in house with a woman and her blossoming daughter. Well get your mind out of the gutter, because it wasn't like that at all. Oh sure, I notice them as females. Lynne had a long flannel nightgown that she wore that first winter. It had been around a while, though, and it wasn't loose, so I got to see plenty in terms of her shape. And Jill wore actual footy pajamas, made out of some kind of stretchy yellow and white striped material. She had just turned fourteen, and she was all girl under that stretchy material. It clung to her right between her legs where ... well ... not to be indelicate about it but it was very clear she was no male. She looked vaguely like some kind of modern art tigress. But even though I noticed them as women, I didn't have thoughts and fantasies about them. Not really. Since then I've talked to several old geezers who thoroughly enjoy looking at women and who WISH their dicks would get hard, but they know their days of rutting like a bull are over, so they just kind of have happy, horny thoughts about what it was like back in the day, and how much fun it would be to make this or that young thing squeal ... if you could ... which you can't ... so oh well. I wasn't old. I could still get a rock-hard boner ... and did, too. And I beat it into submission pretty much every day too. But not because I was thinking about Lynne and Jill. They were more like my sisters or roommates or something. They just weren't on that page of the program, you know? I still tortured myself over Tiffany, imagining her spreading her long, slim, tanned thighs for Bubba the running back. She was actually chapter two in a book that I wasn't all that excited about being a character in. It was complicated, and nobody around me would have understood why I felt like I did about it, because how I felt wasn't how most people would feel. It's not like I got off on thinking about her with him. But she couldn't handle having feelings for both of us, even though I was convinced her feelings for him were just physical. I guess I kept trying to win her back in my mind or something. I was a sad case back then. Anyway, that first winter was amazingly happy. I studied up on things mechanical and made friends with the blacksmith in town. He taught me things and I started checking over the tractor, which was an old John Deere 40/20. The battery was stone dead, but when I charged that back up it still wouldn't crank. I found a bunch of corrosion where the ground wire attached to the frame and then the engine would turn over, but not start. I went through the lists one by one and by the time March rolled around nobody was more surprised than I was when the stack belched black smoke and the thing started clattering along. It smoothed out and ran pretty good. I felt like I had just built the pyramids of Egypt or something. Of course I had no idea how to drive the thing. Jill climbed up, leaned back and stretched out her left foot pushing the clutch, popped it in gear, moved the throttle lever and away she went. She'd been able to drive it when she was ten. I know I was grinning like an idiot. My newfound mechanical skills did not, as it turned out, transfer to the pickup. When the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree I had no clue. Randy had a thing that could talk to the computer and he blithely informed us that five hundred dollars would fix it up just fine. He kept looking at me like I was some kind of monster. It might have been because Jill, wanting a piece of gum, just got in my pocket for it instead of asking. He thought I had a thing going with Jill, or her mother, and I think it still stung him a little that he'd gotten shut down. That was when I found out what kind of straits Lynne was in financially. When Paul died, there was some insurance money, but it hadn't lasted all that long and she was running things on a shoestring. She'd put a bunch of money into a college fund for Jill, and had managed not to touch it since then. Now, though, she had to get into that for the money to fix the truck. I didn't think that was fair. Jill was a smart girl, and would do well in college. She deserved to go. So I hung out my shingle as a CPA again and started doing taxes for people because it was that time of year. I put the money back into Jill's college fund. It's amazing that you can walk into a bank and, if you know somebody's name, you can put money in their account. You can't take any out, but anybody in the world can make a deposit. Of course Lynne said I didn't have to do that, but she had taken me in when I was in need, and had let me stay, and fed me and all that, so I just thought I should contribute something towards my upkeep. ------- Chapter 3 That winter Buster died. He was curled up in his dog bed, and looked like he was still sleeping, but he was gone. He was old. They'd gotten him for Jill when she was four so he was old, but everybody kind of expected he had a couple more years left in him. I was the one who noticed, because he always lifted his head and wagged his tail when I walked into the mud room, where his bed was. When he didn't, I investigated. I admit I freaked out a little bit. I'd never had a pet, and I'd never lost one. But my freak-out was as nothing compared to Jill, who sobbed. I ended up holding her AND Lynne, who was also crying. We had a group hug for a good half hour. Then I disengaged myself and went about getting a grave dug. We had a little impromptu memorial service, where the women remembered things he'd done and talked about it and cried some more, but those were slightly happier tears. He'd been a good dog. I lost it when I covered him up with dirt, and then it was the women holding me. ------- By this time I was a fairly accomplished mechanic, electrician and plumber. My tax business had expanded significantly. Agricultural operations are quite complicated when it comes to the tax code, and there weren't all that many people who wanted to specialize in that kind of service. The way I did things, I had my forty-seven agricultural clients give all their receipts and records to me and I kept them up to snuff so that when tax season got there the next year filing the return would be a piece of cake. I only had to spend maybe an hour a night keeping things up to date in the books I kept for them. It was because of my contacts through taxes that I happened upon what I thought was the perfect birthday present for Jill. Her birthday fell right in the middle of apple harvest, which made it hard to give her a special day. Harvest took all our resources and we still had tons - literally - of waste. I kept thinking I should do some research into marketing the apples further out than we were, but I'd never gotten around to it. Anyway, I was picking up receipts from one of my tax customers when I was almost bowled over by a very friendly black Labrador, who jumped up on me and left three bright red stripes of blood on my left arm, like I'd been attacked by that comic book character Wolverine. "Damn dog!" yelled Don Rigsby, who ran the local co-op feed store. "I can't get him to settle down for shit! Everybody told me he'd be fine in a couple of years, but he's three now and I swear he acts more like a puppy every day. I can't spend the time with him it would take to train him up right." He looked at my arm, concerned. "Let me get you something to clean that up." "It will stop eventually," I said. I'd been cut, scraped, nicked and bruised countless times by now. I rarely put anything on an injury. I might wash it off, but that was about it. The dog sat, tongue lolling from his mouth, bright eyes on me. Then he started jumping up on me again. It was almost like he had waited for me to pet him, but I took too long, so he reminded me again. "I'm really sorry," said Don. "If he keeps that up I'm gonna have to put him down. I can't have him hurting customers." "You can't kill him just because he wants attention," I objected. "I can't leave him alive if he's going to get me sued," he said. "He needs to be out somewhere where he can run some of that energy off." And that comment was what got me thinking about Jill, and her birthday, which was about two months away. Which is how coincidence brought me to end up with a black Lab named Duke in the back seat of my car when I left the feed store. Once Don got the chance to get rid of a problem dog, he wouldn't wait for her birthday to get closer. He even threw in a hundred pounds of dog food in the bargain. Duke the black Lab would end up being an important mover and shaker in our lives, but I'll go into that later. ------- By this time I was making what for me was a comfortable living on my tax business. Which is why, after the apple harvest was over that year and things settled down, I tried to pay Lynne rent one day. It happened to be just before breakfast. Why that was important will be explained later. "You don't owe me rent," said Lynne. "But I live here," I said, needlessly. "For which you pay me by working," she said. "If anything, I should be paying YOU. Your labor is worth a lot more than just room and board." "Nonsense," I snorted. "I'm homeless, and you're being kind." She snorted. "If I didn't know better I'd SWEAR you were trying to get me in bed, Bob MacAllister." That was out of the blue, until I remembered another time when she'd said something like that. That time I had stuck my foot in my mouth and she hadn't talked to me for a couple of days. Jill had patched things over, though. So I probably should have just smiled mysteriously or something and left it at that. But oh no ... I just had to try to tease her. "You sure do talk about sex a lot," I said. "I do not!" she snapped. "This isn't the first time you've accused me of trying to get in your jeans," I said confidently. I thought we had the kind of friendship by now that could sustain this kind of give and take. Guys do it all the time, and I felt like one of the guys, you know? "That's not what I meant and you know it!" she said, her voice rising. "Besides, that was ... FOREVER ago!" "It was just last year if I recall," I said, smiling. ------- This, gentlemen, is where a lot of men go wrong. They think they're being clever and witty and, if they actually WERE talking to another man, they might BE clever and witty. But I wasn't talking to a man, no matter how much I thought of her as one of the guys. And what a WOMAN hears in that situation is: "I remember you talking about having sex with me, and it sticks out in my mind enough that I think of it often. That should be obvious since I just brought it up." And yes, I know she brought it up. But there's no traction in pointing that out, boys. Believe me. I know. In other words, her comment, which was designed (by a woman) to put me in my place, was responded to by my comment (designed to put her in her place) which meant I was interested in having sex with her. ------- She blinked at me and her cheeks got darker. Her mouth opened and then closed, and then she licked her lips like they were dry or something. I remember all this now, but it didn't mean anything to me then. "I see," she said. Her voice was kind of flat, without any emotion. Just so you know, I didn't pick up on that either. "Yeah," I said gleefully, digging my hole even deeper. "Sometimes I worry about you, cause you're obviously frustrated. Maybe you should think about getting laid." I grinned widely with that guy-to-guy grin that is sometimes augmented with a wink. Which is when Jill walked into the kitchen, it being breakfast time. She obviously heard the words "getting laid" because she gaily asked "Who's getting laid?" We both turned to stare at her. Mine was a guilty stare, of course. Lynne's was astonished. I knew Jill had a generic sexual nature. Everybody does. But I don't think Lynne had really thought about it all that much, probably because Jill hadn't expressed any real interest in dating yet. Whenever she went out, it was always with a crowd of her friends from school. There were boys in the crowd, but there was no boy's name that came up in Jill's conversation other than as an identifier. But the way she tossed off that question made it crystal clear that Jill not only had a sexual nature ... she was both knowledgeable AND comfortable about the vernacular used to refer to it. The word "laid" just sounded so bizarre rolling off her lips like that. We stood staring so long that she finally realized there was something wrong. She didn't know she had simply shocked us. "Well it's not me," she said, holding up both hands as if to ward us off. "I'm a virgin!" That pretty much blew our minds too. Not that she was a virgin, but that she would just come right out with that information so blithely. I was one of the guys, but the guys don't talk about who is and isn't a virgin. Not unless they're trying to mess with somebody. Her mother and I kept staring. Our mouths were probably open. "Honest!" said Jill, her voice rising. "I swear!" Lynne recovered first. "We weren't talking about you, dear," she said. With typical teenage adaptation, Jill relaxed. The danger was gone and she was bullet proof again. "Well that's good," she said, moving forward again and pulling out a chair. "So who WERE you talking about?" The ease with which she asked the question was what gave me the hard-on. I swear it was. She was SO willing to engage in frank conversation about sex, even if it was gossip, that she just suddenly exploded into my head as a sexual being. She was a virgin, who was saying "Hey, I'm interested in sex! Let's talk about sex!" I was glad I was already sitting down. I favored loose trousers, rather than the tough (and tight) jeans the women usually wore, and that meant that my sudden boner would have announced itself rather obviously had I been standing. Lynne and I were the only other ones there, so Jill just looked from one to the other of us, obviously interested to see which of us was "getting laid." "Never mind," said Lynne, almost gasping. I think she, like me, was still grappling with how much Jill had grown up while neither of us were watching. Jill sat down and leaned back, folding her arms under her breasts. I stared at them. When had they gotten that full? My eyes went to Lynne's, which were only a little larger, maybe. "Are you and Bob having sex?" she asked, her voice completely serious. ------- Well there you go. That's a question that just isn't welcome in the circle of guys. Which is about the time I realized we weren't all guys. Which sounds stupid, except it really was a paradigm shift in the way I looked at both of them. You can't sit there with a boner and perceive them as "one of the guys" any longer. Not unless you want to contemplate whether or not you're gay, and that wasn't even a flicker in my mind. ------- "Of course not!" gasped Lynne. For once I sat, silent. Lynne looked over at me as if she expected me to back her up or something. My mouth finally came unglued, but I still have no idea why I said what I said, which was: "This is SO weird!" "Oh," said Jill. It could have been my imagination, but she sounded vaguely disappointed. "Well who ARE you having sex with then?" Man! This girl was just chock FULL of surprises that day. Lynne just spluttered, and I thought she was going to have a stroke or something, so I tried to help. "Jill, you're too young to be asking about this kind of stuff." "No I'm not," she said firmly. "I'm at the perfect age for concerned adults in my life to guide my curiosity and urge to explore sex." Now I was the one spluttering. I didn't feel any chest pains, but I knew something was seriously wrong with me. There had to be. This girl sounded so mature it was scary. I'm not sure whether it was just Lynne's inner strength that finally burst up to the surface to take in a deep breath of air, or whether Jill's comments were like a slap in the face that woke her up, but she finally started communicating on a level that was more efficient. "Honey," she said suddenly. "I'm perfectly happy to talk with you about your feelings, but it's really none of your business who I'm sleeping with." "So you ARE sleeping with somebody," said Jill. "No," said Lynne with a heck of a lot more patience than I would have believed she could have. "But even if I was, it's none of your business. And it's none of your business who Bob is sleeping with either. You can't go around asking people who they're sleeping with." "You're not people," said Jill calmly. "You're my mother." She looked over at me and apparently thought I felt left out. "And Bob is... " she looked confused for just a second or two, and then finished "Bob." I wondered what that meant. "Where did all this come from?" asked Lynne, who realized she was holding a half crushed box of Cheerios and set it down on the table. "Where did what come from?" asked Jill. "This talk about sex," said her mother. Jill rolled her eyes and threw one hand out away from her body. "I just came here for breakfast. YOU two were the ones talking about sex!" ------- Chapter 4 The little scene at the breakfast table that morning was even more important than either Lynne or I realized. We reflected on how unexpected, and bizarre it was, and it showed us a side of Jill we hadn't paid any attention to yet ... but neither of us realized how important it was. From Jill's point of view, "sex" had been brought out into the open. Never mind that her mother immediately tried to quell the frank and open discussion that Jill had in mind. Lynne had said she would be willing to talk about it, and Jill remembered that. And, while she had been interested in sex for several years, that interest had been a somewhat vague and misty thing, a little like wondering what Sasquatch looks like. You've heard a lot of rumors about it, but you'd sort of like to see the real deal for yourself, even if it would be scary. Now, at least in theory, Sasquatch could be called into the room on demand, and under complete control. Jill was suddenly quite interested in seeing the beast. Another problem is that Lynne and I were laboring under an illusion. It's understandable, as you'll see. The illusion was that we assumed Jill was like most other young people and had no interest in the details of her mother's sex life. All adolescents believe that all adults have sex. They're wrong, of course, but they believe it. And while they can be very interested in the sex lives of most adults, the average adolescent doesn't want to think about her parents having sex. Lynne and I knew that. But Jill wasn't average. She didn't see me as a parent, and her father was gone before the age at which the taboo of thinking about her mother as a sexual being developed. She perceived her mother as both "Mom" and an adult woman. In other words, Jill assumed that both her mother and I were having sex. Not with each other, necessarily, but if we were, then that was acceptable. And THAT was because sex, as far as Jill was concerned, was a good thing. She'd never been taught to think it was nasty, or perverted, or dangerous. She was aware that some people felt that way. She just didn't feel that way herself. To Jill, sex was an unknown, one of those exciting adventures she'd get to go on some day. It was like being at a theme park and not being able to ride because you weren't tall enough. You knew that someday you WOULD be tall enough. And finally, Lynne and I were oblivious to the fact that I held a special place in Jill's heart. I was a friend and confidant who was an adult male. Those are rare in most young women's lives. We had worked together, played together and even cried together when her dog died. We were best friends, and had the kind of easy comfort in each other's presence that allowed her to run around in a lot less than she would have otherwise. It wasn't like we were nudists or anything. But if she went to the bathroom in her bra and panties and if I saw her, well ... it wasn't the end of the world. So, at that point in her life, sex became something even more interesting than it had been. She was sixteen and curious. She had questions, and a pledge to answer them, at least from her mother. I'm pretty sure she expected she could ask me anything under the sun and it would be fine. She just hadn't thought to ask me about things sexual before. That was to change. And all because of the coincidence that she happened to be in the right place, at the right time, to hear just two little words: "getting laid." ------- What actually precipitated the beginning of the actual questions was that Duke found himself a girlfriend. She was a stray, and wandered into the yard one day. She was a short-haired mutt of some kind, that looked like a dozen types of dog all put together haphazardly. Most people would have yelled at her and maybe chunked a rock her way to run her off. Jill, of course, fed her. Jill was just like that. She turned out to be a well mannered and sweet dog. She was also in heat, which Duke noticed right away. I came out of the shed, where I'd been sharpening the blades of the riding mower, and saw Jill squatting on her haunches, watching Duke licking his new friend's rear end. Her vaginal opening was black and swollen. About the time I got there he hopped up and his sharp, pink penis slid unerringly into her. He began to hump immediately and vigorously. Jill looked up at me as I walked up to her. "Doesn't that hurt?" she asked. "Doesn't what hurt?" I looked at my hands, expecting to see blood. I was always hurting myself, and Jill called me a klutz quite often. "What he's doing to her," she said, looking back at Duke. The female was just standing there. She looked bored, but her back legs were spread slightly and her tail was out of the way. I could see the flash of pink as Duke frantically fucked the bitch. "Naw," I said. "It's made to fit." "I remember the first time I saw horses doing it," she said, watching the dogs intently. "I got scared. I just knew he was hurting her." Duke went still for a few seconds and hopped down happily. His pointed penis was still out of its sheath and had a drip of clear liquid on the tip. The female looked around at him, as if to say "That's it?" I guess males are pretty much the same across the species. "Mom said the same thing," she went on. "But I don't see how it can not hurt. She wasn't aware of it, but she had lifted one hand and was looking at her index finger. She might as well have said "It's bigger than my finger, and I can barely get that inside me." The way she was squatting, her jeans-clad legs were apart and I could see the tight fabric that covered her crotch. I thought about her finger, sliding into what was behind that denim, and felt heat suffuse my body. I also felt blood finding its way into my dick. "All part of nature," I said hastily and moved on, lest she see something she didn't need to see down around my zipper. ------- The next question was a couple of days later. Because we didn't have the equipment to handle big bales of hay, Lynne had Hank Thompson bale our hay with an old-fashioned small square bailer. It produced bales that weighed between fifty and eighty or so pounds, depending on what kind of hay they were made of. We could handle those during the winter by putting them in the pickup and taking them wherever they were needed. Jill and I were getting twenty-five or thirty bales down from the loft in the big barn, to put in the stables. It was hot, sweaty work but it was the dust that made it itch uncomfortably. Jill was wearing a too-large T shirt with the sleeves cut off and she might as well have taken it off for all that it covered her bra. I could even see the little pink bow on the bra between her breasts when she bent over. "So how many times have you done it?" she asked suddenly. "Done what?" I asked. The "what" came out in a grunt as I bucked a bale up onto the others in the back of the truck. "Had sex," she said. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I froze and stared at her. She was waiting for an answer. "You can't ask people that kind of thing," I croaked. "That's what Mom said too," she said. "I thought you might tell me, though." "Most people don't keep count," I said reflexively. She looked interested. "You mean because they have it so much?" I had no idea what to say. What came out was "People just do it. They don't keep records or anything." "OK," she said, adapting easily to the situation. "So how often do you do it?" I didn't want to answer that question. No man likes to admit he hit a dry well but has been using the hand pump for years anyway. If you don't want to answer a question, ask another one yourself. It's a time honored technique. "What brought all this on anyway?" I asked. "Duke had sex with Snow White four times yesterday," she said. "Snow White?" I looked at her like she was crazy. The stray didn't have any white on her at all. "It was either that or Ariel, from The Little Mermaid," she said. "She just doesn't look aquatic to me, though." "And she looks like Snow White?" I asked, dumbfounded. "No, but Snow White was my favorite princess when I was a little girl." "Oh," I laughed. "It all makes sense now." She looked surprised. "It does?" I shook my head sadly. "No. Not at all. I'll never understand women." "Well anyway, Show White lets Duke have sex with her whenever he wants to. She doesn't try to run away or snap at him or anything. And he wants to a lot! So are guys that way too?" For some reason I imagined Jill standing there, naked, hands on her hips, one foot tapping, saying "Just exactly now many times do you want to fuck me today, Bob?" And THAT was when Jill's image in my mind was irrevocably changed forever. She was still my best friend, but she was also a female, and she had just as much potential to be a sexual partner as any other woman on the face of the planet had. Of course I didn't think that would ever happen. And I wasn't going to try to MAKE it happen. It was just there, like a big fucking rock, so big you can't move it. You can work around it. You can build up against it. You just can't move it or get rid of it. It's just there. Jill WAS standing there with her hands on her hips. She wasn't naked, but she was obviously waiting for me to answer her question. It took me a second to remember what the question actually was. My voice kind of wheezed a little bit as I finally spoke. "Probably not that many times a day," I gasped. "So just once or twice?" she asked, sounding interested. I just nodded. I realized I had a hard-on. It had just exploded into existence, while I wasn't paying any attention. "Gotta go," I rasped. I turned and shuffled off toward the house, because it was the only thing that would keep my back to her as I went towards it. And wouldn't you just know it. With my luck, Lynne was coming out of the house as I mounted the steps. ------- Lynne looked at my face, which was flushed. I was panting too. She stopped, still right in the doorway. She could never explain why, later, but her eyes dropped and pinned on the jutting bump in the front of my pants. Her mouth dropped open. She was wearing bright red lipstick that day, and her mouth made a red, round shape that just blew my mind. I mean I was thinking of sex already, and there was nothing I could do to control my thoughts as I looked at that mouth. "What happened?" she squeaked. Her hand went to cover her mouth, as if she was upset she'd said anything. Either that or she was a mind reader and knew what I was thinking about that mouth. I started to just say "Jill!" but I knew that would require more, and I sort of doubted she'd appreciate what that more would end up being. "I just get this way sometimes," I said weakly. "You leaving?" I would have said anything to divert her attention from my erection. "No," she said, looking confused. "I was just coming to call you two for lunch." "Oh!" I said. "So where's Jill?" she asked, looking over and past my shoulder. "Stable," I panted. My brain finally started working. "I gotta pee," I said. She looked startled, but turned sideways as I tried to push past her. My chest scraped right across the tips of her breasts, which were encased, that day, in a halter top. We both looked down as it happened. My bulge was thrusting out and filled the little triangle of empty space between her breasts and my chest. It brushed her thighs. This was not turning out to be a good day for me. ------- I did, in fact, go into the bathroom. The only other place I could go was my bedroom, but I'd already said I had to pee, so the bathroom it was. I did NOT have to pee, of course, but I took my cock out anyway. I knew I'd have to beat off to get it to go down, even though I was embarrassed half to death. The memory of those round, bright red lips had me going, though. And that's how I found myself thinking about BOTH Simmons WOMEN for the first time as I masturbated. I usually have to get everything just right to cum when I beat off. I have to think of the right thing at the right time and get my hand moving at just the right speed. It all comes together, but it usually takes a few minutes. On that day I didn't even have to take my pants down. I just unzipped, pulled it out, and stroked it while thinking of Lynne's lips and those pajamas sucking up between Jill's pussy lips and it was over. I mean stick a fork in me - I was done. Then I had to catch my breath and wash my hands and face, which was red, and get presentable, so I could go out and eat lunch. With the girl I had just fantasized about while beating off... And her mother. The big question was whether or not I could face them with any kind of style or grace. ------- Chapter 5 I don't know how often you've had a sexual fantasy about a woman, or a COUPLE of women, masturbated to completion while engaged in those fantasies ... and THEN sat down to eat with them. It had never happened to me, and I almost couldn't figure out how the heck to act. It showed too, because Lynne stared at me, frowning. She couldn't look at my lap, because I was sitting down by then, but I got the distinct impression she would have, if she could have. Jill seemed completely unconcerned and wolfed down her grilled cheese sandwich as if she had places to go and people to meet. It turned out she wanted to go for a ride after lunch. While we were moving the hay, I had left early because of my boner, so we didn't get it all moved. Instead of blaming me for that, she just said she was going to get it done after lunch so she could go have some fun. "That's fine, Dear," said Lynne. "Mom?" "Yes?" "Now that I'm sixteen, I can start going on dates ... right?" Both Lynne and I stared at Jill. She had stopped inhaling the sandwich and was now nibbling at what was left. This was the first time a derivative of the word "date" had come out of her mouth, and it surprised both of us. "I suppose so," said Lynne carefully. "Has a boy asked you out on a date?" "No," she said. "Not since last year. Robbie Whitlock asked me out, but I told him I wasn't allowed to date and nobody's asked me since." "Oh," said Lynne. "So are you going to ask Robby out now?" "No," said Jill. "I don't want to go out with Robby. He's not my type." "What is your type?" asked Lynne. "I'm not sure," she said. "Except I know it's not Robby." "Well before you go out on a date, we have to have a talk about ... things," said Lynne, in full mother mode now. "I'm not going to have sex with anybody, Mom," said Jill, rolling her eyes. "I know you're not," said Lynne firmly. "But you need to be aware that sometimes a boy will try things with you, and you need to know how to respond when that happens." "Oh," said the girl. "Well ... OK then." "You two can get the rest of the hay moved tomorrow. You can go for your ride after lunch. When you get back Bob and I will be ready to have that talk." "Me?" I asked. I wished it wouldn't crack like that. Lynne looked at her daughter. "Bob will help with a man's point of view," she said calmly. ------- Lynne asked me to help with the dishes when Jill got up to go saddle her horse. We stood side by side at the sink, with her washing and me rinsing and drying. "You want to tell me about it?" she asked. "Tell you about what?" I asked. "About what was going on in your pants ... before lunch," she said calmly. Busted! Damn! I tried to bluff. "Oh that," I said, trying to sound like it didn't matter at all. "Happens sometimes. It's a guy thing." "I know all about that kind of guy thing," she said. "I had a husband who loved showing me his when it got that way." "Oh," I said, trying to get past this. "Well you don't have to worry about that. I won't try to show it to you." "Thanks," she said, so dryly that I looked at her. "I don't know why this keeps coming up," she said. "I mean I know we've had this conversation before, but I've never seen you like THAT, Bob." "It just kind of happened, and as soon as I realized it, I made an excuse and left so Jill wouldn't see it," I said. "It just kind of happened," she said. She sounded unconvinced. "OK look," I sighed. "We were moving hay and she started asking me questions. She's been watching Duke breed that stupid stray female. She wanted to know how often I had sex, and if men could do it as often as Duke does." I told her. "You're kidding!" gasped Lynne. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" I shrugged. "When a pretty girl asks you how often you have sex ... well ... nature kind of kicks in." "Was she teasing you?" asked Lynne. "No, it was nothing like that. She was just curious, that's all. She sees things and she's trying to make sense of them. I think that's all it is." "Well I don't want her being curious with boys on dates," said Lynne sternly. "Well then tell her that," I said. ------- Now imagine being a man, in your forties, and suddenly being cast as the father figure to a sixteen-year-old girl you've already had fantasies about. And you're talking to her in partnership with her mother, who you've ALSO had fantasies about. You've had erections caused by both women. Oh yes, and you're trying not to get another erection. Actually, I did OK, but it was only because I was thinking about her being groped in the back seat of a car somewhere by somebody who was definitely not me. I didn't find that thought sexy at all. Lynne was busy telling her that there would be all these feelings she hadn't felt yet, but WOULD feel, and they would happen without warning sometimes, and she'd be confused, at which point she'd be vulnerable to... She turned to me. "Tell her, Bob." "Guys will try to cop a feel," I said, rather bluntly. "Lots of feels," I added. Lynne frowned at me. I think she expected something a little more academic. But she adapted and went with it. "Yes," she said. "And sometimes when they touch you, it feels nice, but if you let them do that they'll try other things, and THOSE things feel nice too, and it can get out of control very quickly." "So don't let them cop feels," said Jill, as if she were taking notes. "Right," said her mother. "And keep kissing to a minimum. I wouldn't even let a boy kiss you at all until the third or fourth date." "Mom," said Jill, her voice plaintive. "Most of my girlfriends are giving blow jobs on the fourth date!" "WHAT?!" Lynne's voice made me wince. "I'm just telling you what they tell me," said Jill. "NO BLOW JOBS!" yelled Lynne. She turned to me, looking panicked. "No blow jobs!" I agreed firmly, though less loudly. Lynne looked at me like "That's it? That's all you got?" "And don't let them talk you into jerking them off either," I added, feeling proud of myself. Lynne looked up at the ceiling, but her face jerked back towards Jill when her daughter said "Why not? My girlfriends all say that's the best way to control a guy." Lynne spluttered for a bit and I realized I was going to have to step up. "OK, look," I said. "All guys want to have sex with you, OK? It's just the way things are. And guys will do just about anything to try to talk a girl into having sex. They'll get you to do this little thing. They'll say nobody will find out, and it won't hurt anything. Then they add another little thing, and none of them seem all that bad, but they all lead further down the road, until the next thing you know you're in trouble. And what your mother is trying to say is that the best way to avoid all that is to just not start any of those things at all." "Oh," said Jill, frowning slightly. "ALL guys want to have sex with me?" "Pretty much," I said. "It's just the way men are made. Nature is responsible, and unfortunately you women have to figure out a way to live with it. "That doesn't sound like much fun," said Jill doubtfully. "I mean what's the point of going out with a boy if I have to worry constantly about him trying to get in my pants?" "Well," I said, "the purpose of dating is for you to be exposed to and get to know lots of boys. Sooner or later you'll meet one that you like a lot more than all the others, and eventually you'll fall in love. And THEN you can think about having a more serious relationship." "Yes!" chirped Lynne, finally able to speak again. "He's right about that. Play the field. Keep it light." That was pretty much it for our first sit-down talk with Jill. I felt like it had gone pretty well. Sure, there were some rough spots, but all in all I thought she got the message. And I thought I had made a comeback with Lynne, in terms of saying things in a way that more closely matched her own feelings. What neither of us realized is that words can be spoken to mean one thing ... and heard to mean another. And neither of us picked up the importance of one of the questions she asked: "ALL guys want to have sex with me?" ------- Jill did start dating and, like most other things Jill got involved in, she seemed to put her mind to it. She went out with a different boy every weekend for the whole first semester of her junior year in high school. Of course there wasn't all that much to do out in the boonies, where we were, so about half the time she invited the boy to come to the ranch and go on a trail ride with her. She loved to ride, and a lot of the boys in the area rode too. Sometimes the date just involved going to a game with a boy, football in the fall, and then basketball later on. But the point is that she rarely went out with the same boy more than twice, and if asked how a date went, her invariable answer was "OK." Basically, for all the interest she'd shown in sex and dating ... it seemed to fizzle when it came to actually exploring those arenas. Of course neither her mother nor I knew what she was actually doing on those dates. We would find out about that almost a year later. In the meantime, another coincidence, of sorts, happened that would have a profound impact on our lives. Of course we didn't know that at the time, either. It was a small thing, a thing that happens tens of thousands of times a year. Snow White had her litter of puppies. It was the first time any of us had seen puppies being born. We all freaked out a little bit, but Snow White was so calm about it that it was impossible to stay freaked out for long. Duke was interested too, but only until he sniffed the first puppy to pop out. Then he went and laid down. I guess he figured he'd done his part. Anyway, the three of us stood there, like anxious fathers, waiting for the outcome. She had seven puppies. The imagery was unmistakable. Jill with an awed voice, named them. And of course they were named Doc, Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Happy and Bashful. Neither Lynne nor I could argue about it. Then Snow White left the script and had another puppy. "What are you going to do now?" I asked. "Is that one the prince?" "Of course not," she snorted. "Duke is the prince." "Oh," I said, smiling. "I always wondered what the prince's name was." Jill stared at the newest pup, being cleaned up by its mother. "His name is Mortimer," she said firmly. "Mortimer? Why Mortimer?" asked Lynne. "Why not?" asked Jill back. And that was that, or so we thought. At least until Snow White let us handle them. "Um ... Bashful isn't a little boy puppy," I said. "Doesn't matter," said Jill, without a pause. "Bashful can be a girl's name too." We couldn't give them away. Not once they had been named like that. I mean you couldn't break up Snow White and her seven dwarves. And it seemed wrong, somehow, to give Mortimer away too. So we settled in to help Snow White raise her children. That was to have a much stronger impact on Jill and Lynne than any of us could know then. ------- Chapter 6 In February, Jill suddenly stopped flitting around like a butterfly and started going out exclusively with a boy named Langston Carter. He was a senior and they went out somewhere about every other week. The rest of the time she'd go to his house, or he'd come to hers. If there was a dance, they went together. But she never talked about him. I saw him at the house several times, and he seemed like a nice kid. He didn't paw Jill, or act territorial around her. I asked Lynne what he was like and she said it was hard to tell. She described him as polite, but somewhat distant. Jill asked if they could do homework in her room, and then didn't complain at all when Lynne said the door had to stay open. It looked for all the world like they were just friends. Of course neither her mother nor I knew what she was actually doing on the other dates she had with Langston. We would find out about that almost a year later, too. ------- It was Prom that turned everything upside down. Prom was special to Lynne. I would find out more about that while the kids were actually at the dance. But even before then I could tell, because I saw her going all out for Jill, taking her shopping for a new dress and all that kind of thing. On the big day she called me and asked me to come fix supper, because she was doing Jill's hair. It had been a while since I'd smelled that pungent odor that permeates the whole house when a home permanent is used. Jill came to the table looking like some insane artist had used her head to make a sculpture using tin foil and rollers. They ate quickly and went back to it. Lynne said "Don't leave." Two hours later I looked up from watching TV and my breath caught in my chest. They had picked a midnight blue dress that was quite simple, really, with spaghetti straps. It fell to just above her knees. Her hair was all up on her head, interwoven with dark blue ribbon going in and out and some kind of silver sparkles in it. She had on eye shadow that was the same shade as the dress, and lipstick that was pink. She looked nervous. "Wow," I sighed. "Is that good?" she asked hesitantly. "Oh yeah," I sighed again. "That's very good." Her smile made my heart hurt. I looked over to see Lynne leaning against the door frame. She had that look on her face that only a parent can get when she is so proud of her child that she can hardly bear it. "And look!" said Jill, excitement in her voice. She twirled quickly and the skirt flowed out and rose. I got just a glimpse of pale blue panties. "Stop that!" chided her mother. Jill turned until she was facing me again and stopped. "I got them to go with the dress," she said. "You're not supposed to show them to anybody," said Lynne. "Bob can see them," said Jill. "He's special." The doorbell chimed. Lynne jumped. "He's here!" she said in what was a whispered shout. Jill glanced over at the door, but didn't look excited at all. Lynne was wearing a sweatshirt with the arms cut off. It was too big and she'd obviously put it on as something that could get wet, or stained or whatever while she worked on Jill. It wasn't something for public consumption. Her jeans were old and I could see skin here and there through holes in the cloth. They still fit her like a glove. "I'll get it," I said. Langston was all dolled up too, in a tux. He had a corsage in his hands. He looked just as calm as Jill did. I don't know why, but I watched his face as I led him in. He looked at Jill and smiled, but his eyes didn't widen, and he didn't react in the way I expected him to. Lynne was darting toward her bedroom, which wasn't surprising, based on how she was dressed. "You look good," he said. "Thanks," said Jill, as if what he'd said was expected. "You too." He handed her the plastic box that held the orchid. She took it out and tried to put it on herself, which is when I stepped in. "Let me," I said, and took it from her. There was then a moment where I was transported decades back to a time when I pinned my first corsage on a girl's dress. It was a momentous experience for me, which might seem strange to most people. Part of that was because it was Samantha Cross I was pinning it on, and she was three inches taller than I was. We were both seniors and I'd worked on getting up the courage to ask her to prom for three weeks before I finally did it. Then I was astounded that she didn't already have a date, and almost lost my ability to stand when she accepted. The primary reason that was a turning point in my life, though, was that as she stood there, waiting for me to pin it to the strap of her gown, her parents were standing there beaming ... watching ... completely comfortable with the fact that I was slipping my fingers under that strap, just inches from her breast. Sam was a 38D. She was completely ready to go out into the world, have triplets and have plenty of warm, yummy milk left over for somebody else's babies. And I was sliding the back of my fingers across hot, smooth skin that was part of one of those breasts. And her parents didn't care! Of course now I understand that I was virtually miles away from the good parts of those impressive mountains Sam carried around everywhere she went. But back then, as she stood patiently, letting me practically feel her up, as I saw it, and her parents not only LET me practically feel her up, they took PICTURES of me practically feeling her up. I got one of those instant boners that only teenage males are capable of producing, that go from limp to full hard in ten seconds or so. That's where that memory stopped. If I'd have tried, I'd have easily remembered that that was as close as I got to the nirvana of Sam's breasts that night. Other than pressing my own chest against them, of course. Sam didn't fool around. She was a "good girl." It was fine to slide the backs of my fingers all over her upper breast while I was pinning her corsage on, but I got my hand slapped when I tried to cup the same breast. I was a very confused young man for a while after that. Anyway, as I pinned the orchid onto Jill's dress, and looked at sweet, dark cleavage, and slid the backs of my fingers along Jill's smooth, warm skin, my prick took notice. She was looking down, at the flower, until I was done, and then she looked up and her smile was so beautific that I almost took her in my arms and kissed her. It was a moment of deja vu, except that it hadn't happened before. I just wished that it had happened before, and that I HAD kissed her. I also wished I was Langston. I looked over at him, to share one of those man-to-man looks that says "You lucky son of a bitch!" He was looking at his watch. They'd have left without a picture being taken if Lynne hadn't run back into the room, holding a camera and yelling at them to wait. Apparently a picture of her little girl all dolled up took precedence over being seen dressed way down by that girl's date. The sense that something was off continued, because those two kids acted for all the world like prom was no big deal, even though each of them had obviously spent a lot of time getting dolled up for it. ------- Lynne and I were having pie and ice cream. She'd made a pecan pie and it was perfectly gooey and sticky. We were taking our time. It was very relaxed. I noticed that Lynne didn't appear to have anything on under the sweat shirt, but I wasn't sure. I was trying not to stare too much and, at the same time, see if I was right. "I guess things have changed since I went to Prom," sighed Lynne. "How so?" I asked. "It was a huge deal for me," she said. "Of course I had decided that I was going to let Paul..." She stopped suddenly and her cheeks got pink. I figured I knew what she was talking about. Prom has been like that for a long time. It was even like that for me, though I didn't have sex after my prom. A lot of my friends did, but not me. In fact, I didn't have anything even close to sex before, during or after prom. Sam really was a good girl. "Ooooo. So you decided to give it up after Prom," I crowed. "Paul was a lucky guy." She recovered nicely. "Yes," she said almost regally. "He was!" "Didn't happen for me," I said, shaking my head. "I took a girl named Sam, and when the dance was over I had to take her home. Most of us had a curfew back then. We didn't get to stay out all night long like the kids these days." "Poor Bob," she said, in exaggerated sympathy. She grinned. "Was it everything you hoped it would be?" I asked. "You mean Prom?" "Of course I don't mean Prom. You know what I meant," I snorted. "Why do we always end up talking about sex?" she asked, hedging. "Do we?" I asked. "Sure seems like it to me," she said. "We're secretly hot for each other," I joked. "Our subconscious minds are trying to get us together." "Is that so," she said. She smiled gently. "Absolutely," I said, pressing on. "So are you going to answer the question?" I didn't think she was, initially, and I wouldn't have pushed it, but finally she took a breath and looked right at me. "It was awful," she said. "It hurt horribly, and I bled. We did it in the back seat of his car and I got a crick in my neck. I wrinkled up my dress to the point that I was sure my mother would know exactly what happened, and I had to throw my panties away because they were stained with blood." "Wow," I said softly. "Sorry I brought all that back up." "It's OK," she said, smiling. "The second time was wonderful, except that he didn't have a condom with him and I was so intent on trying it again that I let him go without one. So I was scared to death that I was pregnant for most of a month." "And you married this guy?" I grinned. "It was when I realized that if I was pregnant with his baby I wouldn't really be all that devastated, that I knew I loved him," she said. "Now, your turn. What was your first time like?" I closed my eyes, like I was trying to remember. That wasn't the fact, actually. I'd never forget my first time. "Her name was Phyllis, and we were in the chess club together. She was a wallflower. Her best friend, Samantha, was my prom date, and she made me dance with Phyllis, who didn't have a date for prom. A week later I walked her home from chess club and she invited me in. Her parents weren't home. I don't even remember how it happened, but she let me kiss her, and then she let me see her breasts. One minute I was playing with them ... and the next thing I knew I was on top of her and it was like riding a bull in a rodeo. She was my first girlfriend, really. I had tried to have others, but it never worked out." "And how old were you?" asked Lynne. "I was a senior and she was a junior." "And you didn't stay together?" "I went to college and after her senior year she went to her sister's farm in northern Missouri for the summer. There was a farm hand there. He had all summer with her, and all I could do was send letters. The next time we got together she confessed to cheating on me with this guy and we broke up. She went on to travel the world with an NGO. That's not what they called them back then, but that's what it was. "You loved her." Lynne said it softly. "Yeah," I sighed. "I didn't care about the cheating. I said it was just her curiosity. She couldn't understand that, though, and thought I must not love her if I didn't get raging mad. "I'm surprised you weren't mad too," said Lynne. "Most men would be." "I learned a long time ago that you can be in love with more than one person at the same time," I said. When I got engaged there were two other women I could just as easily have married. I mean I loved both of them enough to ask them. I guess I chose the wrong one, though." "How can you love more than one woman at the same time?" she asked, sounding skeptical. "Beats me," I said, shrugging. "I like a woman for who she is. I don't compare her with anybody else, I guess." "So what's the difference between that and what your fiance did? I mean all she did was fall in love with two men ... right? Let's be fair here." "Her new boyfriend didn't see things that way. Most people don't. You're a good example." "I just don't get how anybody could have those kind of feelings for two people at the same time," she said. "OK, think about it like this. Right now, the only women in my life are you and Jill. I like you both. I'd say I love you both, except that's a sensitive word and can be misunderstood. I don't want to choose which one of you I like more. Why should I have to? I want to like you both. I want you both in my life." "OK, I get that," said Lynne. "But you're not talking about marrying one of us." She frowned. "Even if my daughter shows you her panties, she knows you're our boarder. She was only teasing you." "OK then," I said, trying to communicate what I was feeling. "What if you had two kids. Would you love one more than the other?" "Of course not," she said immediately. "Then there you go. You are capable of loving two people at the same time, in the same way." "That's different," she insisted. "How?" I asked. "The love you feel for Jill is powerful, and will last forever. If you had another child you'd feel the same way about him or her. You CAN love more than one person in a deep and meaningful way, at the same time." She closed her eyes. "Talking about this makes my head hurt." She opened them again. "Do you like brandy?" "I don't know," I said. "I never had any that I know of." "I have this bottle that's been sitting in the back of the pantry for years. Somebody gave it to us before Paul died and I never opened it. I think it's peach flavored." "I'm game," I said. Which is how I found out that Lynne would do well to stay away from alcohol in the future ... FAR away. ------- Chapter 7 The brandy was good. It was very sweet, so sweet that a small glass lasted me half an hour. Lynne took bigger sips, and took them more often and by the time I poured my second glass the bottle was a third empty. I think she regressed, at least partly. She was thinking about her own Prom night, and what happened in the back seat of that car, but it was being overlaid with later memories of the same activity. She got horny and the brandy got her loose. "My daughter is probably in the back seat of some car right now," she slurred blearily, staring at her wrist, where she usually wore a watch. She wasn't wearing it that night. "She's probably having sex with Langston right this MINUTE!" She got agitated and then relaxed. "Who names a boy Langston anyway? That's a silly name!" She looked at me. "She showed you her panties, Bob! On PURPOSE!" I knew she was tipsy, and that it was the alcohol talking, rather than Lynne. I mean it was Lynne talking, but the alcohol had something to do with it. You know what I mean. "I was honored," I said carefully. She looked around, somewhat blearily. "I just hope she hash ash good a time ash I did." She looked at me and smiled brightly. "You wanna half a good time too, Bob?" She leaned dangerously, but recovered. "You look tired," I said. "You want to lie down?" "With you?" Her voice went up in concert with her eyebrows. "Are you trying to get in my pants, Bob?" "No," I laughed. "Not while you're drunk, anyway." "I'm not drunk!" she said, her voice very dignified. "I'm in-n-n-nebriated!" "Well not while you're in-n-n-nebriated, then," I said smiling. "Of coursh not," she said, swaying a little. She looked at her glass. It was half full. She tossed off everything left in it and smacked her lips. "You're too much of a genn-a-menn to do that!" She looked at me owlishly. "Dammit!" she said, and then giggled. "Oops!" she said, wide eyed, apparently as she thought about the rather gentle curse word she'd just used. She stuck her fingers in her ears, then pulled her hands to her eyes and covered them, and finally covered her mouth, giggling all the while. "Come on," I said, standing up and reaching for her hand. "Let's get you to bed." "Finally!" she said loudly, standing up and then falling back down. She made an obvious effort to stand up again, and then promptly bent over and peered at my zipper. "It dussn't look hard to me, Bobby. What's wrong with it?" Instead of standing up and looking at me, she just craned her neck and looked upwards. This was a side of her I'd never seen. Her innuendo, if you wanted to call it that, was obvious and WAY overboard. The brandy had affected me too, though not anywhere as much as Lynne. Had I been sober I might have thought more about what she was saying, but in the same way one drunk thinks another drunk is funny, I just chalked what she was saying up to the booze. What that means is I didn't try to take advantage of her. I concentrated on just trying to take care of her. I got her to her bedroom by half carrying her. Her arms were around me and she was humming, not quite singing. I didn't undress her or anything like that. I just got her on the bed and draped the bedspread over her. I stood up and her head rolled to let bleary eyes peer at me. "You're not naked." "Nope," I said happily. She lifted the bedspread and looked under it. "I'm not naked either!" "Nope," I agreed. "How can I show you my panties if I'm not naked?" she asked, sounding genuinely confused. "You can show them to me later," I said. "Go to sleep. You're drunk." Her head rolled back. "Not drunk," she said softly. "I know." "Don't go," she said. "You need to sleep," I told her. "Not alone," she mumbled. "Tired of alone." Had I not drunk any brandy, I'd have left. I'm not saying I was drunk, by any stretch of the imagination, and I'm not blaming it on the booze. It's just that, in my current mental condition, the idea of staying was pretty attractive. It would have been attractive anyway, but that brandy tipped the scales toward the decision to stay. I kicked off my shoes and laid down on the bed beside her, getting under the bedspread. It was uncomfortable with my arm under me, so I wiggled it under her, which kind of put my shoulder where she could use it for a pillow. I didn't hold her or anything like that. It was really quite innocent. I didn't even have a boner, which was surprising. It just felt good to be there, because I knew she wanted me to be there. And, to be honest, I was tired of alone too. ------- I woke up, probably because I had to pee. My left arm was under Lynne, so I couldn't look at my watch, but was still dark outside. I didn't want to get up. I was sober now ... fully sober ... and though I knew I had ended up where I was honorably, I also knew that if I woke Lynne up she might not see it that way. So I didn't want to get up and disturb her. There was the somewhat stale aftertaste of peach brandy in my mouth, which was dry, which meant I had to pee AND wanted to get a drink. Lynne gave out a sigh in her sleep and I got a whiff of basically how my mouth tasted, which turned out to be better than what I'd have thought it might be. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep until I eased the pressure in my bladder and got a drink, so I gave up and wiggled loose from her. She lay there like she was dead, except that as I got off the bed she raised her head and looked around. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Bathroom," I said. "Bring me some water?" "Sure." In the bathroom I pondered her attitude. She hadn't screamed or even gotten upset. Apparently the foremost thing on her mind was her own dry mouth. That was pretty astounding, to me. I mean we'd gotten close over the years, but not sleeping-in-the-same-bed close, if you know what I mean. Then I realized there was no cup in the bathroom, so I headed for the kitchen in the dark. The yard light made the living room seem as bright as day, and I remembered our brandy glasses, so I picked hers up, took it in the kitchen and rinsed it out, and filled it with water, all in the dark. I drank some, and carefully worked my way back to her bedroom. She was sitting up in bed, and her hands were moving over her body, like she was checking to see if all her arms and legs were still there. I saw her pulling at the sweatshirt, like it was sticking to her or something. Our eyes had adjusted to the dark enough so that when I handed her the glass, she could see it in my hand. She took it, drank, and then handed it back. "Guess I'll go on back to my room," I said softly. "No," she said. "Stay here." I stood there in the dark. I didn't know what that meant. "Are you sure?" I asked, for some reason. Her hands went to the bottom of the sweatshirt and she whipped it up and over her head. Her bra was starkly white against her skin in the dark. She flopped down, wiggled out of her jeans, then sat back up. Her arms went behind her and the starkly white bra seemed to float to one side in the dark as she lay back down. She kicked the covers off. Her panties were also starkly white. "Stay here," she said again, softly." "Wow," I sighed. I could see the dark tips of her breasts. Before, I had crawled into bed with her with a soft penis. That was no longer the case. Her invitation was undeniable, and I started shedding clothing like a tree sheds leaves in a hurricane. I thought about matching her, leaving my underwear on, but the urgency that was suddenly in me decided not to. Her arms came up towards me as I got back in bed, and hot breasts were pressed against my chest. "Wow," I sighed again. "Shut up and kiss me," she whispered. Thirty seconds later I felt like my brain had been sucked out of my skull through my mouth. "I showed you my panties," she panted. "Now you can take them off." I'd love to claim that there followed a soft, slow, romantic easing into a mutually gentle and caring exchange of caresses that led to making love. But that's not what happened. I pulled her panties off, after which she spread her legs wide and reached for me. I was ready, as rock hard as I'd ever been in my life, and I fell on top of her as one of her hands darted between us, reaching for my cock. She found it, positioned it, and I slammed into a fully ready, fully aroused, wet pussy that squelched and let out one of those pussy farts that makes you want to howl, except it would ruin the mood, or at least you think it would. We both ignored it, though, and five seconds after feeling her tight, hot pussy clenching all around my prick for the first time, I was pounding her as if I was trying to hurt her. I remember there being a lot of grunting going on. I know I was grunting "Oh Lynne" a lot, and she was gasping "Oh fuck!" and "Oh yes!" and I realized I was about to blow, which I knew was TOTALLY wrong, because we'd been fucking - and that was the only way you could characterize what we were doing - for less than two minutes, and it was entirely too soon for it to be over. I slammed in, clenching and, by pure force of will, trying not to cum. Her hips started wriggling and I mashed my abdomen against her, just to stay on and stay in, which had the effect of grinding my pubic bone hard against hers. I felt like I had to be bruising her, but her hands were gripping my ass cheeks HARD and pulling enough that there was some pain involved, so I kept grinding. She went off with a howl like a banshee. It was a scream, primal in every way, though my brain recognized it as good primal, rather than bad primal, and as a signal that she was cumming, and that I didn't have to stave off the inevitable any more. I took the time to grind just a little longer, loving the wail that I was wrenching from this woman, and then began fucking her again as I felt my own release rampaging towards me. My orgasm felt just as spectacular for me as hers had sounded. There was even the blazing of fireworks, exploding into light. Until I realized it was the room lights ... that somebody had turned on. Lynne and I both squinted toward the door, where stood Jill, still in her midnight blue prom dress, her hair slightly awry, but still mostly up, her pupils surrounded by the whites of her eyes, and the fireplace poker in her upraised right arm. Her mother's primal scream had sounded entirely different to Jill, who was just coming in from prom. ------- Chapter 8 My prick gave another convulsive lurch in Lynne's pussy, as the tableau froze, and then began moving again. "SHIT!" yelled Jill, as she obviously recognized me and lowered the poker. "SHIT!" yelled Lynne in almost exactly the same tone and volume. "AHHHHHH," I groaned as I spurted one last time. "MOM!" yelled Jill, in that tone of voice that makes it perfectly clear that the mother in question has GREATLY disappointed the daughter yelling the word. "JILL!" moaned Lynne, in that voice that makes it perfectly clear that the speaker is horribly embarrassed, mortified, even. Jill stamped one foot. It would have been funny if she hadn't been so mad. "THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!" she yelled. Then she whirled, and stormed out of the room. ------- In my fantasies about doing what I'd just done with Lynne, I had never taken them far enough to reflect on the aftermath. If I had, I doubt it would have been like what happened. I was pushed off the naked woman I had just fucked, and there was another wet sound as My cock was separated forcibly from her pussy. She bounced almost athletically up and stood, poised to go after her daughter. "Shit, shit, shit!" she panted. "Put something on!" I gasped. She looked at me, and then at her clothes, which were on the floor by her feet, where she'd thrown them. Then, for whatever reason, she whirled and went to get her robe, which was hanging on a hook by the door. She shrugged into it, her fingers fumbling with the belt as she went out the door. Left in a bright room, naked, in Lynne's bed, which she had vacated as if she was fleeing from a bounty hunter, I wondered what I should do. The idea of getting dressed and leaving was attractive, but I knew it would be the wrong thing to do. Leaving precipitously after what had just happened would say something I didn't want to say to Lynne. I wondered what I SHOULD say to Lynne. In any case, I didn't have any place to go, other than the bunkhouse. I lived there. In the end I got up, put my pants and shirt back on, and went looking for the women. I found them sitting on the side of Jill's bed, holding hands, talking softly. When I stuck my head in, I got two different looks. From Lynne was a look of almost sorrow, or at least what I interpreted that way. Jill was ticked off at me. That much was plain. "I'll talk to you later," Lynne said. "Got it," I said. And then, for reasons I still can't explain to this day, I said "I love you both," and turned around and left. I got my shoes and socks and carried them to my room. What I really wanted was to take a shower, but I thought that might seem somewhat cavalier, so I turned on my reading light and got the pencil puzzle book I was currently working on. Lying on my front, I got the pillow situated under my chest and, with pencil poised, I opened the magazine to a random page. ------- If you're a guy, you'll understand why, as I was thinking about that shouted "THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!" I was confused as to what it might mean. In the years since then I've learned that any woman would have understood it instantly. Lynne did. But us guys are sometimes a bit dense. Obviously it referred to what was going on in Lynne's bed. And obviously it meant that Jill thought she should have been one of the people in that bed, doing what we were doing. What wasn't so obvious, to me anyway, was whether she was supposed to be taking Lynne's place ... or mine. Stop laughing. I told you men are a little dense. And these days the world is full of girls who like other girls. And there were little clues that Jill wasn't all that much into boys. That she got interested in dating so late was one. That she didn't seem to get all gooey over any of the guys she met was another. And there was just something wrong about the way she and Langston had looked at each other before prom. I mean I developed the beginnings of a nice healthy boner when I saw her all dressed up to the nines, looking as delicious as a chocolate éclair. He'd glanced at her and then looked at me and her mother. And Jill hadn't seemed all that excited about prom at all, for as much time and effort as she and Lynne put into getting her ready. There was just something that was off there, and it affected how I interpreted other cues. So my level of angst about all this had twin taproots. First, while I could live with the idea that Jill might be a lesbian, I wasn't at all sure Lynne could. My heart went out to her. At the same time, what had happened between us, as fast and furious and untidy in the end as it had been, it had affected me down deep. Of course what she'd said might be the other thing, which meant she thought it should be her in bed with me. I could live with that too - no problem there at all - except that it was unlikely Lynne could live with that either, and it would surely mess up what seemed to be a very promising beginning for Lynne and me. In other words, no matter what she had meant, Lynne might have a good reason to have that look of sorrow on her face. Jill might be making her choose between her daughter and me - literally. So I was worried for the three hours it took for Lynne to contact me. And HOW she contacted me almost blew my mind. She sent Jill to get me. ------- Jill walked silently in front of me, leading me to the kitchen. I was afraid to say a word to her. She didn't volunteer anything. We walked into the kitchen and I saw three plates of German chocolate cake set out on the kitchen table. Lynne, spooning out ice cream, glanced up at me and then back at her task. When Jill sat down I just followed her lead and sat down too. Mind you, it was then close to eight in the morning and none of us, to my knowledge, had had any breakfast. Lynne finished up and sat with us. She and her daughter took bites together, as if it was planned that way. After chewing, Lynne finally spoke. "Jill has a crush on you." "I LOVE him," Jill said firmly. "You agreed to let ME do the talking," said Lynne. "It was part of our deal. You KNOW how I feel about this, Jill. Don't give me an excuse to call it all off." Jill turned an imaginary key in the middle of her closed lips, and then threw the imaginary key away. The effect was a little spoiled by the fact that she then produced a yawning cavity in which to push a huge bite of cake and ice cream. Lynne turned her attention back to me. "Jill has had this crush on you for a long time. She has compared every young man she's met or spent time with to you. Apparently they don't meet the standard that you have set." I blinked. My fork hung limp in my fingers. "Eat," Lynne said. "Don't let the ice cream melt and get the cake all soggy." I took a bite. "What I'm going to tell you now is confidential," said Lynne. "I trust you to keep it that way." I nodded, taking another bite. While I was wondering what could possibly be confidential with Jill sitting at the table, I noticed the cake was actually quite delicious. The situation seemed even more bizarre as a result. "Langston is gay and doesn't want anybody to know about it," said Lynne. "Jill has been pretending to be his girlfriend until he graduates. He's going to a college on the east coast, where he plans to be able to be himself." "Aha!" I said, unable to keep it inside. Lynne ignored me. "Jill was waiting until the next apple harvest to ask you for a special birthday present." I knew Jill would be eighteen this summer. She had started school late, and was older than most of her classmates. "OK," I said. I wondered suddenly if I was allowed to talk. "She wanted you to be her first lover," said Lynne, her voice tight. My head swiveled. Jill was very interested in what was left of her cake. She did not look at me. I looked back at Lynne. "A year ago ... or more," said Lynne, "when she asked us if we were having sex, and we said we weren't ... she decided that if I didn't want you, she did." "Mom!" Jill blurted, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," came her muffled words from behind the hand. Lynne sighed. "What she actually said was that if I was stupid enough to pass you up, she was going to grab you." "Oh," I felt like smiling, but knew somebody would kill me if I did, so I coughed instead, covering my mouth with my fist. "When she saw us this morning, she thought we had lied to her," said Lynne. "I explained that it was the first time anything had ever happened, that alcohol was involved and that we just got carried away." She looked at Jill. "I STILL don't know why I felt obligated to explain my actions to my daughter!" "Because you love me," said Jill, and then covered her mouth again. Lynne shot her a frown and then looked back at me. I was wondering where the heck this could be going, because there was no way in the world that Jill was going to get her wish. Things just didn't work that way. "Because of the misunderstanding," said Lynne, "I have agreed to lobby on her behalf, to ensure that you will be ... available ... when she turns eighteen in July ... to..." She rolled her eyes. "I cannot do this." "You promised," said Jill. "You made ME promise too!" "All right!" snapped Lynne. She looked at me and it all came out in a rush. "She promised that if you'll be her first lover on her birthday she won't have sex with anybody else and you and I can still ... see each other." Talk about getting your world rocked. At the same time, I recognized that a mother had been hijacked by her little girl. "I'm an adult," I said to Lynne. "So are you. We don't have to have anybody's permission to see each other." I looked at Jill. "You have no right to make any demands at all." Jill flushed bright red, but stayed mute. I later found out part of the agreement was that she wasn't allowed to say anything during the 'negotiations, ' either to me or her mother. And she had to abide by my decision, regardless of what it was. I looked back at Lynne. "I can't just make a snap decision like this. We need to talk." I looked at Jill as she leaned forward in her chair. "Your mother and I need to talk about this," I said. She slumped back, looking dejected. Lynne's gaze was full of emotion. I wasn't sure what kind, but she didn't look unhappy. "Want to go for a walk?" I asked her. ------- Chapter 9 Jill looked so desolate that I finally told her she could come too, but had to follow us at a distance until we had talked things out. That meant she dawdled fifty yards behind us as Lynne and I walked down the driveway to her house and then along the road. I mean a decision had to be made, and Jill would find out about it one way or another, so making her wait back at the house would have just been mean. I was proud of myself for being able to think in a rational manner in this kind of bizarre, freaky situation. And believe me, I knew it was bizarre and freaky. "If I didn't know better I'd think this was all some kind of setup," I said. "I did not intend to fall into bed with you, Bob MacAllister!" snapped Lynne. "I believe that," I said. "Because while I dreamed about it, I didn't plan to try to GET you in bed." "You dreamed about it?" her voice was a lot lighter in tone. Then she frowned. "Jill says that sometimes you looked at her the same way you looked at me. It made her feel ... good." It was way past time to try to hide anything any more. So I got it all out in one long speech. "When I came here," I started, "I was hurting. You were too. We helped each other. I liked it here. I liked you and I liked Jill. I wasn't looking for anything romantic, and this was the perfect place for me. I don't think I could have lucked into a better place to get my head straight." I took a breath. She wasn't frowning any more. "OK, so here I am ... on this ranch with two interesting women, who I get closer to than just about anybody else I ever knew. We work together and live together and I see Jill grow up, and I see you every day. Both of you are beautiful women, Lynne. It was inevitable that I'd see that some day ... pay ATTENTION to that ... once I was healed of the hurt. I didn't PLAN to start looking at you as women. It just happened. And when Jill started asking questions I thought about things. It's been a long time for me since I thought about love, and sex and all those things. And when I started thinking about them again ... I mean you two were right there ... and I love you both ... and it was just impossible for me not to think about you that way. I'm a MAN, Lynne. We can't HELP how we think sometimes!" I shrugged helplessly. "But I didn't think anything was actually going to happen." "But something DID happen," she said, somewhat needlessly. "Yes," I said. But it wasn't planned. It was just coincidence that it was prom night and that you had some brandy and..." "I've had a crush on you for a long time too, Bob," she interrupted. "What's coincidence is that last night you were talking about being able to love two women, and that this morning there are two women who are interested in being loved by you." "Really?" I know I sounded a little breathy. "I don't just haul any old man into my bed, Bob," she said. She blinked. "I didn't mean that like it sounded," she said. "I don't think of you as old. What I meant was..." "I know what you meant," I said. "That's one reason I was pretty sure I'd never be there myself." "And," she said softly, "While last night didn't happen the way I might have envisioned it in a fantasy ... let's just say I felt very optimistic ... until she caught us." "I didn't have time to do much thinking," I admitted. "But I know I'm not sorry. You might not know it from the way I acted - I mean things were kind of crazy - but I really do care about you." "I know that," she said. "That's why that happened. It wasn't the booze, Bob. You had a chance to take advantage of me and you didn't. It just confirmed in my mind what I've known for years - you're a good man and I like you a lot, Bob." "So what do we do?" I asked. She walked on for a few steps, silently. "What you said the other day ... about loving more than one person at the same time ... keeps running through my mind. I love my daughter. And I also know what it feels like to be in love with a man. I didn't think I'd ever feel it again, but you're banging down the door, Bob. I have VERY strong feelings for you. As a woman myself, I fully understand how my daughter can have wants and needs, but as a mother I care a great deal about who she explores them with." She stopped. "I get all that," I said, not knowing what else to say. "Maybe if you gave her a little of what she thinks she wants, she could work through this crush she has on you." I looked at her. "You know you're completely insane," I said. "No mother arranges for her daughter to become sexually involved with the man her mother is sexually involved with." "I know," she sighed. "But I DO love both of you. And you already said you love both of us." "That's not quite how I meant it," I said. She looked at me. "You said you've fantasized about me." "Yes." "Have you fantasized about her too, Bob?" How do you answer a question like that? You try not to, that's how. "That's different," I said. "Oh? And how is that different? Did you ever think about being in bed with me, naked, before last night?" "Yes!" I said. "And did you ever think about being in bed with Jill? Naked? Doing what we did?" "Damn," I moaned. "Just tell the truth, Bob." "OK. You KNOW I did, or you wouldn't be asking the question." "So both of us want to make love with you ... and you want to make love with both of us." "That's just not normal," I said. "I mean every man, at some time in his life, would have to say yes to wanting that scenario ... but it just doesn't happen! It's not normal!" "I care about my daughter. I care about who she experiments with. I also care about you, and I obviously care about me," said Lynne. "Believe me, I've been in agony, because it looked for all the world like I had to choose between you and Jill. I don't WANT to choose between you and Jill. And I don't care if it's normal or not, but this solution means I don't HAVE to choose between you and Jill." "Man!" I said, explosively. I didn't know how to feel. Men lust after multiple women all the time, but nobody ever gives them permission to. It's just a weird place to find yourself in. "I'm amazed," said Lynne, "that you're so intelligent that you could reduce the sum of all women's problems to just one word." She smiled wanly at me, and then turned around. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called to her daughter, who was fifty yards behind us: "He agreed!" ------- Jill looked like her favorite football team had just won the Super Bowl as she ran, jumping and leaping and screaming toward us. She hopped up on me, hanging and trying to kiss me. "Don't hurt him!" yelled Lynne. Jill let herself down and managed to find my lips with hers. It was a frenzied and hurried kiss, but she tasted good, like strawberries or something. "Don't get too excited!" snapped Lynne. "The agreement is that, WHEN YOU'RE EIGHTEEN, he will do what you ask." "But mom!" Jill sounded tragic. "That's two whole months away!" "When you're eighteen!" said Lynne sharply. "I will not let you put him in a position where he could get in trouble with the law. That wouldn't help anybody." "Oh all right!" said Jill, stamping her foot. The period of my life that I call "the funhouse years" started then and there, as we walked back to the house. I held hands with both women as we strolled along. The day before I had no women in my life, sexually. Today I had two, at least in theory. The male in me wanted to howl to the winds ... to let all the other males know that these two were mine ... that I had the beginnings of my harem. ------- Now, I know what some of you out there are thinking. That would be the men, because I rarely, if ever know what a woman is thinking. Anyway, the men out there are thinking something like this: "Sweeeeet! TWO chicks and ONE guy! Oh man, it's pussy nirvana. Things could NOT be better." Not even, guys. I suspect if you could find any Mormons who would admit to having multiple wives, they'd tell you the same story I'm about to. Which is that, no matter how well they get along, two women who share the same man compete for his attention. And now I hear some testosterone-soaked guy out there saying "Sweeeet! They're FIGHTING over him. He doesn't even have to TRY to get pussy!" But that's not the way it was. Not for me, anyway. Of course part of that was because, technically, I wasn't screwing two women. I wasn't even screwing one woman. I HAD screwed one of them, but, as yet, there had not been a return engagement with Lynne ... never mind her own statement that there were two women who wanted to be loved by me. What we had was a weird situation that formerly completely normal people were trying to adjust to. Lynne and I had engaged in a torrid, ill-planned spontaneous coupling that had generated interest for more, but we hadn't had time to adjust to our new relationship. Then Jill had inserted herself into the equation, which was now probably the equivalent of calculus while I was stuck down in algebra. And I didn't even need the algebra for my tax business! Jill, on the other hand, was like a colt who's been in the barn for days and knows there's a lush pasture outside, perfect for frolicking in, if only somebody would open the damn barn door. It was May, and Jill's birthday wasn't until July. Her birthday came right in the middle of apple harvest, which normally meant there wasn't much time to pay attention to it. Harvest left everybody involved dead on their feet at the end of each day. Jill was well aware of that, so she tried to get as much mileage out of me as she could before her birthday without breaking the rules. What that meant was that within that same week she started wearing less and less around in the evenings. As a family we didn't watch a lot of TV, but there was generally one TV show each night that somebody in the house wanted to see. The rest of us usually sat in and watched too. Jill got some new sleepwear, which meant she altered her old sleepwear. Now her sleep T shirt was cut off right at her belly button. Her summer time pajama bottoms, which were old and paper thin anyway, had always revealed the imprint of panties under them. Not so any longer. She'd come in, plop down next to me on the couch and snuggle up, rubbing herself all over me. There was never a bra under that crop top T shirt. Her hand invariably landed on my thigh, inches from my penis ... which invariably thickened, at a minimum and sometimes swelled to full erection. She would giggle about the erection and whisper in my ear "Did I do that?" Once Lynne, who was sitting on the other side of me, also pressing a braless breast against my arm, heard her and said "No, I did. If you'll remember, you're not old enough to yet." Meanwhile, during the day, my interaction with Lynne was quite different than it had been before. We exchanged hugs now, and they weren't necessarily little quick "Hi! I like you!" hugs. There was some grinding going on, and some kissing. And some erections developed then too. I quit trying to hide those erections. I mean ... what was the point? One night Jill and I were the only ones watching TV. She turned around, lay across my lap, and promptly kissed me on the lips. She was fun to kiss, so I kissed her with gusto. I'll admit it. I was ready for her birthday too. So sue me. When Lynne came into the room I had my hand all over Jill's chest while we kissed. "Knock it off you two!" barked Lynne. "You know the rules!" "It's just kissing," moaned Jill. "I saw a lot more than kissing going on," grumbled Lynne. "You are no fun!" complained Jill. "If I was no fun I wouldn't have agreed to this cockamamie deal in the first place!" yelled Lynne. That cooled our ardor a bit. At least for a while. Jill pushed the limits by trying to twist things. One night my arm was draped over Jill's shoulders and she took my hand and just slid it right down into the neck of her shirt, where of course my hand cupped a warm teenage breast and tweaked a hard teenage nipple. "I thought I told you that kind of thing was off limits!" barked Lynne as she walked into the room carrying a big bowl of popcorn. "I just had an itch," said Jill blandly. "I used Bob's finger to scratch it, that's all." "Well if visitors look through the window and see you using Bob's finger to scratch your itches, he'll get thrown in jail. Is that what you want?" Apparently seeing her daughter pursuing her desires had some effect on Lynne. That night, probably close to midnight, while I was reading, my bedroom door eased open and Lynne walked in barefoot. She had on a long T shirt. "I have an itch that needs scratching," she whispered. She was flushed and already panting. When she lifted the shirt over her head, she was naked. She stood there, letting me look her over, which I did gladly. It was actually the first good look at her naked body I'd gotten. The only thing I had on was my boxers, which I pushed down. I felt like an exhibitionist as I showed her what she did to me. We were like teenagers. It was wild. There was all this fumbling and neither of us seemed to know what to do for the other. I swear I felt fifteen. But we weren't so rushed on this night, and we whispered to each other a few times, guiding ... suggesting ... asking. I remembered that a woman on top has more fun, sometimes, than a woman on the bottom, so I pulled her over on top of me. When she slid down on me she closed her eyes and groaned as if the world was settling on her shoulders. Then, once fully impaled, her eyes opened and she stared down at me. "I was sure this would never happen," she sighed. "I'm so glad it has." Then she made the bed springs squeak and sing as she rode me to an orgasm. She stifled herself by biting the pad of skin below her thumb. When she finally relaxed and lay down on my chest she was still gasping for air. "You have no idea how much I loved that," she sighed. Then it was my turn. I rolled us over and began slowly rodding her. She whispered little things to me. "Yes ... I love that ... you feel so good in me ... oh keep going." They weren't nasty or crude, but they inflamed me, because she made it clear she loved having my prick in her. She WANTED me, and she wanted me THERE. Just before I spurted, the errant thought swept through my mind that a woman who didn't date, and hadn't had sex in years (to my knowledge, ) might not be on the pill. Then, before I could ask her, the ecstasy was on me and I was pushing deep while my penis joyously spat jolts of semen into my lover's depths. In the aftermath, amongst kisses and rubbing hands, her teeth caught my ear lobe and held on until I stopped moving. She let it go, flicked her tongue at my ear, and whispered "Don't ever stop doing this to me." Jill behaved herself when her mother was around, but if Lynne was off doing something, like busy in her sewing room, Jill got as much out of her absence as she could. Twice she bared a breast to me and once I sucked quickly at a nipple. We were both giddy, like kids trying to get away with sexual behavior without getting caught by the parents. Which was true, come to think of it. Within a month Jill was an expert French kisser and knew, when she let her hand drift to the front of my pants, that she'd find a boner there. She always giggled proudly about that. ------- Chapter 10 In the middle of June Lynne found a buyer who would take truckloads of apples to make cider out of, which meant we were going to have to expand the harvest to three times what we had done in years past. The cider customer wanted three varieties, which was no problem except that all three varieties chosen were in different parts of the orchard. About half the trees in the orchard hadn't been pruned in years. The fruit on them hadn't been harvested anyway, so they had been let go because there just wasn't enough time to deal with them. As a result the apples on those trees were smaller than optimum. There was also a lot of dead wood, and some of the trees were in peril of dying. If we were going to expand into those areas, then we needed to start doing something with the pruning schedule. It would mean hiring extra help, but the increase in harvest would more than compensate for that. Lynne went along with a can of fluorescent paint and marked the trees that had dead wood or damage in them that needed immediate care. Jill and I got to work, trying to get as much done as possible before the picking started. There would be a larger than normal crew of high schoolers this year, and the most promising of them would be offered part time work outside picking season. The third day of emergency pruning was unseasonably hot, and by ten in the morning I was sweating. Our job was to get the dead wood out so it wouldn't inhibit the pickers when they came through. The smaller apples weren't a problem for the cider making process, but the overgrowth would make picking more difficult if we didn't get some of it out. We broke for lunch, which was sandwiches, chips and fruit juice. "I'm going into town for some things," said Lynne. "Anybody need anything?" "You could bring me an advance on my birthday," said Jill. "Right," said Lynne. "You can wait another month." "It's thirty-eight days," said Jill. "You can wait thirty eight more days," said her mother. "It's not fair," said Jill. "You're not waiting." She looked at us both. "I heard you last night." Lynne's cheeks got pink. "It's not my fault I'm already old enough," she said defensively. "I'm so horny!" complained Jill. "Jill!" moaned Lynne, who still wasn't used to her daughter being so open about things sexual. It had been almost a month since "the deal" was struck, but none of us had really adjusted completely. Of course things were still in a state of flux, to some degree. I was doing better, though, because I was playing with them both, sexually. I went much further with Lynne, of course, but the mood was there with Jill. "You know how to masturbate," I said calmly. "Isn't that what you did before we made this deal?" "Bob!" moaned both Lynne and Jill together. In their world people just didn't talk about masturbation openly. Which I thought was a hoot, since these two women had negotiated whether or not I'd get to pop Jill's cherry when she turned eighteen. ------- After lunch Jill said she was going to change into something cooler and told me to go ahead. I waved at Lynne as she drove away in a cloud of dust. I started an examination of one tree that I wasn't sure could be saved. There was a split down low where two main branches met, and the injury went a good foot down into the trunk. As I walked around it several times, I decided that maybe it could be pulled together up above the injury with a cable and then wrapped to keep insects and water out. It might grow back together and we had nothing to lose if it didn't. I'd need Jill to help me, though, so I went looking for her. I called her name and she yelled back. I followed the sound of her voice and found her standing five feet above me, sawing off a dead branch. She had changed clothes after lunch, and was now, for some reason, wearing a denim skirt and a bikini top. The way she was standing made it easy to see her white panties. "Nice view," I said, smiling. "Dirty old man," she said mischievously. "All men like to see a girl's panties," I said. "My mother would probably not approve," she said. "You're probably right," I agreed. She held onto a branch with one hand and reached under her skirt to push the panties off one hip. Then she changed hands and pushed them off the other hip. Once down to her knees, she lifted one foot, pulled it out and let the panties drop to her ankle. She used one foot to kick off the tennis shoe that was on that foot and I jumped out of the way as the shoe landed right beside me. The panties floated down and caught on a twig above my head. Her other shoe barely missed me too, but I didn't care, because she was holding her legs apart. "Can't tell Mom you could see my panties any more," she said. "Careful, girl," I said, my voice husky. "You could get yourself into trouble. "Gee," she said brightly. She climbed down two branches until her feet were on a branch that was even with my shoulders. "Ya think so?" "Oh Jill," I sighed, staring at her young, virgin split. She had such a pretty pussy. She'd trimmed it at some point, maybe to go with the bottoms of the bikini top she was wearing. I knew she'd gone swimming in a lake nearby with some of her friends, but the water was only warm enough to do that during July, so I didn't see her in that suit often. "I'm SOOOOO horny, Bob," she moaned. The hand holding her skirt up slid down and one long, slim finger split her labia and slid inside her. "I don't want to just ... masturbate," she whined. "Oh baby," I groaned. "Nobody can see us," she said. "Mom's gone." "We're supposed to wait," I moaned. "Do you want to wait? 'Cause I don't." "Don't tempt me like this," I groaned. "Tiffany Roberts said her boyfriend ... um ... went down on her. She said it was marvelous. Can you at least do that for me?" Well shit. Her mother WAS gone, after all. ------- I don't know if Jill was wise enough in the ways of men to know how incapable we are of controlling our urges, or not. If she wasn't, she found out ... the hard way. I did dive into that muff and tried to suck the pearl out of her oyster. She almost fell out of the tree, which was how we ended up on the thick grass under the tree. Her bikini top came off somehow, and I couldn't make up my mind whether to suck her nipples off, or suck her pussy instead. I did both ... extensively. And it might have been OK except that she was just as loud and appreciative of all this as her mother. They had the same vocal chords, which just made my whole body glow with sexual heat. Which led to me deciding to jack off, which led to me kneeling between her spread thighs, jerking furiously on my meat, while she came up and rested on her elbows, staring. And when she reached and slid a finger in her pussy again, and I realized that could be my prick instead of her finger ... well, there wasn't much she could do once I sank down on top of her. Not that she fought. Well not at first. I was a little eager, perhaps. She was nice and wet, and there was no hymen to break, but having her pussy channel stuffed with full sized man prick for the first time was still a shock to her system. "OWWWWWW," she complained in my ear as I wiggled my way deep in her teen pussy. "It's not supposed to hurt!" "Oh shit," I said, as I sobered up instantly. I pushed up off her and pulled out. There was a wet sucking sound as I did that. She came back up on her elbows and we both stared at her pussy lips. They were flushed and thick, but otherwise looked just like they had. "I'm not bleeding," she panted. "I'm really sorry," I said. "I should have taken my time. It wouldn't have hurt so much if I'd have been more gentle." "Well then be more gentle!" she gasped as her head went back down on the grass. I sucked her nipples for a while, until she relaxed and started murmuring happily, and then started working it into her again. She stiffened, but I just took my time, pushing a little and then letting off. Finally her hips jerked up. "Stop teasing me," she moaned. So I fed her a little ... and then a little more ... and then a little more ... until there was no more to feed her. I honestly think that the main difference was that this time she was expecting it. "Not so bad this time," she panted. Ten minutes later, as I slicked my prick in and out of her hot box, and she made spastic thrusting motions with her hips, she wailed, and I knew I'd done my duty. It was high time too, because I was on a razor's edge. Once she cried out like that, and her pussy started spasming around my prick, I let go and hosed her down. In the middle of that I wondered if Lynne had put her on the pill yet, but I was too busy enjoying spurting in her to worry about it. ------- Jill was almost beside herself once we got ourselves decent again. It was half "I KNEW it would be wonderful!" and "Thank you SO much, Bob!" and half "She'll KNOW we did it!" and "How do I look? Can you tell we did it?" I just stood and looked at her. I was going to be in trouble and I knew it. I think it was the first premonition I had that this having two women thing might not be as great as I originally thought. Jill's prattle got on my nerves and I told her she looked fine, and that nobody would be able to tell that she was no longer a virgin. I told her to calm down, and that we shouldn't have done it. "I don't feel bad," she said insistently. "Of course you don't," I said. "But I do. I agreed to a plan, and I like to think I keep my word." "Well you'd have done it in thirty-eight days anyway," she argued. "And we just told your mother we'd wait those thirty-eight days. "No we didn't. She just said we had to. Neither of us agreed." "Do you EVER want to do that again with me?" I asked, getting angry. "Of course!" She sounded injured. "Well then you'd better start figuring out how to stay on program, because that's the only way this whole crazy idea is going to work out. If your mother gets riled up, she may just kick me out, once and for all." "Don't get mad. I just couldn't wait," whined Jill. "You want to be an adult," I sighed. "I get that. But you have to ACT like an adult too." "OK," she sighed. "I will." "It's a little late now," I groused. "I promise not to ask you to do that again before my birthday," she said. "And quit teasing me at night," I said. "All right." She sounded like it would be tragic to be required not to rest her hand half an inch from my cock while we watched TV. "And don't complain when your mother and I make love." "How come YOU get to have sex, but I don't?" she asked. Her hand went to cover her mouth. "Sorry," she said. "I'll make it worth the wait," I said. "How?" she asked, immediately interested. "I'll make it better next time," I promised. "It can be better than that?" Her eyes went round. "Trust me," I said, a lot more confidently than I should have. "I'll rock your boat." "Oooooo," she sighed. "I can hardly WAIT!" She looked shocked, and then contrite. "I'm sorry," she said. "I WILL wait ... but I'm going to be looking forward to it a lot." "Me too," I said. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her. I resisted. ------- Chapter 11 Jill helped me mend the cracked trunk, and then we worked separately, but within calling distance of each other. Lynne didn't suspect a thing when she got home. Both Jill and I managed to get through supper without giving ourselves away. Jill wore sports shorts and a full T shirt while we watched TV that night. One reason Lynne might not have noticed was that, while she was in town, she did a little extra shopping ... for herself. She'd gotten rid of her sexy lingerie when her husband died, because it reminded her of wearing it for him and it was too painful. While she was shopping, though, she saw some slinky things and associated them with me, instead of Paul. That let her get a few things to wear for me. That evening she came to my room wearing one of her new purchases. That first night, when she "showed me her panties" seemed to have established some kind of ritual, because panties was all she wore to my room that night. They were red, with black bows on them and a little black satin heart worked into the design right over the top of her pussy lips. "I got these today," she said softly. "Do you think they go with my hair?" "Oh man," I sighed. "They go with everything." "You wouldn't be saying that just to get me to let down my guard, would you?" she asked. "Uh huh," I said, exposing my erection to her. "I suppose you want to put that thing inside me," she sighed. "Uh huh," I said again. "You know, I didn't plan on all this, when I let you move into the house." "Me either," I said. She was just standing there, looking beautiful and delicious. I had to reach for my bone and squeeze it. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I believe that's my job." "You're standing way over there," I explained. "But if I come over there you're going to try to stick that in me," she said. "I thought we covered this part already," I said, grinning. "And you'll mess up my brand new, special panties," she pouted. "Not if you take them off," I said. "I thought you liked them." She pouted some more as she took a step towards me and her thumbs went to the waistband of the panties. "I do," I said. "I'll still like them when they're draped over the back of that chair right there too." "You're just horny," she said, sliding the panties down and stepping out of them. "Oh baby, you have no idea," I sighed. This was only the fifth time we'd made love. Of course I would have been ready any time, but I waited for her to decide when the time was right. Part of the excitement, for me, was knowing she wanted me, and letting her seek me out to set that up. But I hadn't forgotten what had happened with her daughter that afternoon. It wasn't exactly guilt that made me think of it, but the two women looked a lot alike. Both had a spray of freckles that went from cheek to cheek, across the bridge of the nose. Both women had that sun-kissed outdoors look. Lynne's breasts were larger and heavier than Jill's and her nipples were more squared off and thicker, but otherwise their bodies were remarkably similar in shape. Because I was thinking about what I'd done with Jill, I took the time to play for a while first. Lynne and I had a tendency to get right down to the main event. I don't know why. I certainly didn't THINK about getting right to the best part. When we came together there was just an urgency to mate that drove us both. But this time I pushed that urgency back. I moved over to let her lie down and got to my knees between hers as she spread them. "Hurry," she panted. "Not tonight," I said. Then I dove my face into her pussy, determined to bring her off the first time with my lips and tongue. ------- We were having a heck of a good time, so much so that neither of us really paid any attention to the amount of noise we were making. Jill had already told us she'd heard us making love before, but that had happened during an argument, of sorts, which meant we might have discounted the veracity of her comment. We probably shouldn't have. Lynne, it turned out, had never had her pussy sucked. And, like most women who experience it the first time, she wasn't aware that I wasn't an expert at it. Also, like most women, she decided that despite her initial reservations, she liked it ... a lot. She was very vocal about that, as it turned out. Jill, hearing what sounded to her like someone being tortured, got out of bed, where she had been masturbating, remembering the feeling of my cock in her pussy and, naked, tiptoed down the hallway to the door of my room. She figured out along the way that it wasn't torture she was hearing, so she wasn't scared when she got to my door. She was curious. So she cracked open the door and peeked inside. The light was still on, so she could see very well, and neither Lynne nor I had any attention to spare to keeping an eye on the door. Lynne was currently wailing her way through her third orgasm from my lips. It turned out that she could have clitoral orgasms one right after another, something she had never known. And, what with her gasping so hard for air and beating the covers beside her, I decided I'd better give her a little break. I got up on my knees and kept things nice and hard by stroking my prick slowly. "I didn't know!" she gasped. "I never knew!" "You like that, huh," I said smugly. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. That wasn't nearly enough to dry it, but at least I didn't feel like I was dripping any more. Lynne lifted her head. "I want to do you." "Really?" I had had exactly one blow job in my entire life, and while it had felt good, I hadn't cum during it. She got up while I lay down. Neither of us noticed the door still open a crack. "I've never done this," panted Lynne. "You don't have to, if you don't want to," I said, trying to sound sincere. "I DO want to," she said. "I'm nervous, but I want to try it." She approached things slowly. She had never spent any time actually examining my penis. As I said, prior to this we were both pretty much wham bam thank you sir and ma'am kind of lovers. Now, though, she spend half a minute just looking at my prick. With her thumb and two fingers she gripped the shaft and moved the foreskin off the head, exposing the crown. "Yours looks so different," she said softly. "You've seen a lot of them then?" I teased. She shot me a look. "Two, thank you," she said firmly. She played with the foreskin, sliding it over and off the knob several times. "So do I just put it in my mouth?" "I've never done it," I said. She looked at me sharply. "Well I haven't!" I said. "How am I supposed to know what to tell you?" "But you've had it done ... right?" "Once," I said. "And that was a long time ago and I was Jill's age, so I don't remember all that much about it." "OK," she said. Without further ado she opened her mouth wide, put it over the top half of my cock and then closed it. I felt her teeth immediately and asked her to be careful about that. I don't know what the "natural" urge is when you have something long and with the texture of a male erection in your mouth, but her instinct was to collapse her cheeks and suck gently. She also fluttered her tongue, as if she were trying to move a piece of gum around in her mouth. "Oh yeah!" I gasped. "I think you got the hang of it already." ------- I'm hypothesizing now, but I don't think I could be too far off, in terms of guessing what happened, based on the few facts that are known. So I'll just describe it like I think it happened. Duke, having knocked Snow White up good and proper, had swaggered around the farm ever since. Snow White knew a good thing when she found it, and just stayed with us. She had enough stray in her that she preferred to sleep in the barn, rather than come in and submit to the requirements of being an inside dog. Not so with Duke. He loved the attention he got when he was inside, as well as having his own nice soft bed to sleep on. That said, he didn't avoid his duties as the Alpha male of the pack, which is how he thought of himself. He slept on his nice soft bed, but made sure he got up two or three times a night to go out the dog door and do his rounds. He knew there were raccoons and coyotes and other uninvited interlopers out there, and he took looking for them seriously. And, each time he came back inside the house, he also took doing a quick check of the house seriously too. Which is how he happened upon Jill, bent over ... naked ... peering through the crack in the door of the Beta male of the house, which is how Duke saw me. Being a dog, his sense of smell was thousands of times better than mine, which might be why he felt superior to me, though I sort of doubt it. His sense of smell, however, DID pick up the hot and heavy scent of Jill's dripping pussy and, while it didn't smell like Snow White's pussy, it WAS an interesting odor ... and one well worth exploring further. Duke promptly stuck his very cold nose against Jill's very warm and wet pussy ... snorted ... and gave a lick to see what things tasted like. ------- The first we knew that Jill was spying on us was when she came lurching through the door with a rather terrifying scream. Her hair was flying wildly, and she was stark naked, which made it all the more interesting. At least for me. Duke followed her in the door, barking loudly, convinced that he had just found some new and imminently fun game to play with the humans he took care of. Not the least of which was to keep licking Jill between the legs, because that tasted pretty special to Duke. He nosed her again. Jill, who had just barely gotten her balance and was in the process of coming to a stop, suddenly lurched forward again and, with an outraged squawk climbed up on the bed, bulling past her mother, who with wide eyes and a mouth to match, was holding onto my rampant prick, which was wet and shiny ... and cold ... now that she was no longer sucking it. "BAD DOG!" screeched Jill. "What are you doing here?" shouted Lynne. I just lay there, admiring both naked women. There commenced a wrangling as can only be entered into and fully participated in by two women. A man wouldn't stand a chance, but two women have the capability of twisting things and misdirecting and even ignoring various indisputable truths while they argue. Eventually it came out that Jill had thought her mother was being killed, until it was clear that wasn't the case, at which point Jill decided to hang around and learn something, until Duke snuck up on her and tried (as far as she was concerned, ) to have sex with her. Lynne actually calmed down until suddenly she said "Ohhh. Look what you DID!" We all looked at her. She was both looking and pointing at my penis, which lay, flaccid and limp, on my abdomen. "I didn't do anything except escape from Duke!" said Jill stoutly. "Who would not have been able to bother you if you'd been in your bed, where you belong!" And they were off again. It was Jill's contention that if her MOTHER had been in HER bed, where SHE belonged, there would have been no sounds of murder, and Jill would have slept peacefully on. Lynne brought up the fact that Jill was naked, and that she knew Jill did not SLEEP naked. They were on either side of me, arguing across me and, while I had enjoyed just comparing their naked bodies, the tone and volume were getting to me. So I distracted each of them in turn by rolling over and sucking on a nipple. I did Jill first, and it got very very quiet, very very quickly. I looked at Lynne. "I know what yours taste like. I wondered if hers tasted the same. Just a sec." Then I sucked on Lynne's nipple. She was nice enough to shudder before she pushed me away. "Bob!" she yelped. "What?" I asked innocently. "I'm not interested in arguing, so I found something I thought would be fun to do. I can't quite tell though. I think I need to compare again." I rolled toward Jill who, to her mother's disgust, did not impede my progress as I latched onto her nearest nipple. "Mmmm I like that," she said." "Oh stop it!" snarled Lynne. "You're just trying to break the rules." "I am not!" objected Jill. "I really thought somebody was in pain. Duke jumped and put his front feet on the bed, which put his nose right behind Lynne's back, right next to her buttocks. Within about half a second she was on the other side of me, holding on to her daughter. Duke barked happily. "See?" Jill sounded like she was completely vindicated. ------- Chapter 12 I think the turning point was when... No. Wait. This whole story is full of turning points. The coincidences in our three lives had brought us to turning points dozens ... hundreds ... maybe thousands of times. So there was no primary turning point. So what I should have said was that one of the turning points I actually saw and recognized AS a turning point, was when Lynne blinked, and kind of stuttered: "We're all naked!" Now I don't know if I, being a man, just got used to nudity a little quicker than a woman would, or whether I just didn't want either woman to cover up, seeing as how I was enjoying the view. So I said "It's all right. I've been thinking of becoming a nudist anyway." Lynne looked confused and her mouth opened and closed. "Well," I went on. "It just seemed as how what with you two being my women, if I become a nudist, of course you both will too. So we can just start practicing now." I smiled widely, as if I were proud of my creativity. "On good grief!" yipped Jill. "The guys at school are horrible and even they aren't THAT bad!" "The guys at school don't know how to make their women behave," I said sagely. Long story short, thirty seconds later I was being attacked and tickled by two naked women which, I'm proud to say, was my whole objective in the first place. Maybe I was going to be able to make this work after all. ------- If I was one of those perverted horn dogs who writes erotica on the internet, I'd probably say, right about in here somewhere, that after they stopped tickling me, (mostly because I fought dirty and started goosing them and pinching the good parts) that Lynne taught Jill how to give me a blow job, and then relented and let me fuck Jill's metaphorical socks off. But of course that's not what happened. What actually happened was that Lynne stopped laughing and got down to negotiating. Basically she said that being interrupted was no fun, and that it wasn't polite. Jill got all shame-faced and promised not to spy any more. I tried to get them both to kiss me good night, so that I could cop some more feels, but they knew what was up by then. Jill wagged her naked ass at me and said "You have to wait to touch this, you dirty old man!" Lynne, when Jill wasn't looking, wagged HER naked ass at me and mouthed "I'll be back." She did come back too, and she was a LOT better at this fellatio stuff than that girl back in high school was, let me tell you. She wasn't ready for me to cum in her mouth, though, so when I told her I was about ready, she just climbed on top of me, slotted my prick in her pussy, and sank down on it just as I started spurting. "Ohhhhh," I groaned. "I love this as much as you do." "No you don't," she said tensely, her eyes staring at my twisting face. I didn't understand the entirety of what she meant then ... but I found out later. ------- Things actually calmed down after what I called "The Duke incident." Years later if one of them was complaining about something I'd ask "Is this as bad as the Duke incident?" They'd usually smile, sigh, and say "I guess not." Both women had to work together to break Duke of cold nosing them. Once he'd gotten a whiff, he seemed to want to get another one every so often. Two weeks later our crew of twenty-five high school kids got together for training. They were a mixed lot of boys and girls. They all went to school together and knew each other. Jill asked if she could call herself the foreman, because she didn't want to compete with kids her age. With some trepidation Lynne agreed. I was appointed the roving trouble shooter and Lynne was referred to as "The owner." Jill actually handled herself very well. She had graduated, and tried hard to be more mature than the high schoolers. About a third of the pickers were in the same category, but all they really cared about was making some spending money to take to college with them in the fall, or whatever. Jill showed them what to do and then had each one try to pick as many apples as possible in five minutes - correctly - which opened a lot of eyes when she told them how many apples this crew would be expected to harvest over the three weeks that we had arranged for the trucks to be there. There were some sober looks passed around, but nobody quit. The only glitch came when the first truck showed up and the driver said his instructions were to collect the trucking fee up front. Lynne called the company and the guy she talked to said that was how they did business unless the contract specified otherwise. It was a low blow, because they knew they had her over a barrel. The problem was that her barrel was too empty to pay for all the trucks that would be showing up. Later, when her customers paid, her cash flow situation would be great, but it was going to break the bank to get the apples shipped. I had some money saved up from my tax business. Lynne said she couldn't take it, and when I argued she said it would mess up the relationships in the house, which were already messed up enough (her words, not mine.) "Look at it as a simple short term loan. I'll even charge you interest if it will make you feel better." "I don't want to deal with this right now!" she moaned. "We need to send the trucks. With my money we can do that. It's a no brainer," I said. "I don't want to borrow money from you!" she whined. "OK, then, sell me part of the business," I said. She had no choice, and didn't have either the time or patience to do the numbers. I suggested a ten percent stake. She said that was OK for now, but she'd have to figure out later what my input was really worth and she insisted that I share in the profits. I'd have said anything to get her to accept, because I knew we were all screwed if that trucker left. After that, the actual harvest went fine. The kids got better as they got experience, and had no trouble filling the trucks. When the inevitable goofing off happened, Jill ruled with an iron fist, snarling when she had to, but usually just reminding the offenders that they were wasting time. Lynne cooked, and meal times were wonderful, because all these kids loved to eat and all of them knew great food when they got it. Lynne, an expert pie maker above all else, made fresh apple pies out of whatever variety of apple was being picked that day, so that the pickers knew what their work was going to boil down to, at least in some cases. And, along with their pay, the harvesters could take home as many apples as they wanted for their parents to use fresh, or can or freeze. And ... of course ... Jill's eighteenth birthday came and went during harvest. There was a cake that day, and a lot of whooping and hollering, but that was it, except that I got a good night kiss from Jill that was a bell ringer. "I'll be SO glad when harvest is over," she murmured into my lips. "Me too," I said, squeezing her butt. "And for the same reason as you." She smiled at me coyly, ground her loins against mine, and then said "I'm going to bed. I'm bushed." "You going to bed alone?" I asked. "Yes," she sighed. "I already told Mom I'm going to wait until harvest is over. I want to have time to enjoy it, and be able to wake up with you in the morning and enjoy it again." "If you change your mind, let me know," I said. "Mom's scared that once I get you in bed she'll never see you again. She won't admit it, but I know that's what she thinks. So go make her happy tonight. Tell her it's my birthday present to her, on my birthday." "I don't think that's how it's supposed to work," I said, grinning. "She ... and you ... are giving me the best present a girl could get," said Jill. "I have very strong feelings for you, Bob, and a girl doesn't often get to explore sex with the man she feels that way about ... guilt free ... with no worry about consequences. I know how lucky I am." She gave me another quick kiss and then went off to bed. I didn't think about the part of her next-to-last sentence ... the part about not worrying about consequences ... until I was in bed with her mother, lunging deep and ready to cum. I suddenly thought of that word: consequences. "Are you on the pill?" I panted. Lynne lunged up at me. She liked it hard. "Fine time to ask," she panted back. "Are you?" I asked. "Don't ruin it for me, Bob," she moaned. "I'm almost there." "I am too," I groaned. "Do you hear me yelling at you to pull out?" "No." "All right then. Now kiss me while I have a wonderful orgasm!" I kissed her, and jetted her full of another dose of my semen. I hadn't counted, but I had to have done this a dozen times by now. She was right. I had waited a mite long to ask her a very important question. ------- The last truck rolled out of the driveway at five in the evening. Lynne gathered everybody together. "Great job, guys," she said. "You didn't just set a new record this year. You blew the old one to smithereens. You picked a heck of a lot of apples, and I'm proud of you." There wasn't as much whooping and hollering as I thought there would be. Maybe they were as tired as I was. Lynne hadn't known whether the last truck would be gone before supper or not, so she cooked, just to be safe. The kids all stayed, glad they could take their time to eat good food for once. They sat or stood in small groups around the back porch. Jill and I sat together. After Lynne made sure everybody had what they wanted, she came and sat to eat with us. "So what are you two going to do tonight?" she asked, casually. Jill stopped eating and stared at her mother. "You promised," she said accusingly. "I'm not changing my mind," said Lynne, blushing. "Then why did you ask?" Jill was still wary. I just kept my mouth shut. Well, except for eating. Lynne threw up her hands. "I don't know. What's a mother SUPPOSED to do when she knows her daughter is going to do something like that?" "I don't know," said Jill. "Go ask somebody whose daughter got married and went on her honeymoon." "You're not marrying Bob," said Lynne. She suddenly went rigid. "Are you?" That created an interesting reaction. Well it WAS an interesting reaction, but the reaction in Jill was interesting too. "I don't think so," said Jill. It was obvious she'd given this some thought. "It all depends." "On what?" Lynne and I said it at the same time. It was almost humorous." "Well he hasn't asked me for one thing," she said, obviously to us both. "And there's still college. What if I meet some handsome young stud and fall head over heels for him or something?" Lynne's face clouded up. "Bob's affections are not something to toy with, young lady!" she snapped. "I'm not toying with him," said Jill. "I just want him to be my first. That doesn't mean I want to marry him. It also doesn't mean I DON'T want to marry him. Isn't all this a little fast, Mom? If I said I wanted to marry him you'd go ballistic. Am I wrong about that?" "Why are we having this conversation?" shouted Lynne. "Because you started it!" shouted Jill. The kids in the yard looked on interestedly. "Quiet down, both of you," I said softly. "You're making a scene." They looked around and both looked abashed. I decided to put my own opinion on the table. "I haven't asked either of you to marry me because I think you're both insane, and that some day one or the other of you will come to your senses and begin acting normally. That one will probably run as far and as fast as she can away from me. Then I'll probably marry the other one." They both looked at me with surprise on their faces. "You'd marry us?" Jill asked. "Not both of you, silly," I said. "That's illegal." "Yes, I know, but if you could ... would you?" "Didn't you hear what I just said?" I'm not going to ask either of you." Lynne hopped back in. "But if we both wanted to marry you ... and you COULD marry us both..." She stopped, but the question was obvious. "If you're asking if I could choose between you, I'd have to say no," I said. "But just to remind you of what I said earlier, think about the question you just asked. I'm telling you, all THREE of us are as nutty as an almond plantation. "Maybe," said Jill, putting her plate down on the porch. "But a deal is a deal and suddenly I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. I need a bath." She stood up and then looked at me. "You need a bath too, Bob," she said pointedly. Then she took my hand and pulled me into the house. ------- Chapter 13 Having talked about doing this was one thing. Making a plan to do this was one thing. Cheating on that plan in secret was one thing. But going into that bathroom, knowing that Lynne was out there, and that she knew what was going to happen ... well it was just about bizarre enough that I almost couldn't perform. Well, maybe saying I "almost couldn't perform" is a bit of an overstatement. I stood there in the bathroom thinking about Lynne and watched Jill get naked. She ignored me and bent over to turn on and adjust the water in the tub. In the process she was required to lift one leg and "accidentally" show me her pussy. It was very amateurish, but I didn't laugh at her. She finally turned around and looked at me. "If I didn't know better I'd think you didn't want to do this," she said, a pout in her voice. "Not at all," I said. I wasn't hard, and I was afraid to show her I wasn't hard. That was the point at which I was worried I might not be able to do this. "Oh," she said, as if she had just thought of something. "I get it." I wondered what she "got" until she stepped up and started undressing me. I smiled. She thought I was being coy. "I'm going to wear you out tonight," she said softly, almost as if she were talking to one of the buttons she was undoing. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk," she added. She pushed the shirt off my shoulders and leaned forward to kiss my chest. Gone was the amateur. This was a horny woman who somehow, despite having no experience, knew exactly what she was doing. She sank down to her knees and undid my pants, dragging them down. I was surprised to see an almost completely hard penis leap out into the bathroom air. "There he is!" she cooed. "There's my baby, who I waited so long for and so almost patiently. Did you miss me?" She leaned forward to press soft, warm lips against the tip of my cock. "Yes," I whispered. "I missed you a lot." Still looking at my prick she smiled. "I'm going to suck you dry later. But I'm going to let you fuck me first. Would you like that, handsome boy?" "Oh yeah," I sighed. She stood up and turned off the water. The tub was about a third full. She felt the water with her hand. "Too hot," she sighed. "Oh well, I wasn't going to be able to wait anyway. We'll have to let it cool a little bit." With that she sat up on the counter by the sink and pulled her heels up to rest on the edge. She leaned back against the mirror and shivered as her back hit the cold glass. She spread her knees apart in the most erotic pose I could imagine. "I need an orgasm, Bob," she complained. ------- It was about two minutes after I had walked up to that counter and slid my prick into her pussy that I realized I was in deep ... deep trouble. That's because there were some feelings she had to work through associated with being made to wait for this. "Don't you dare cum in me," she panted as I rodded her with long, delicious strokes. "You'll go soft, and I want you very, very hard for a while yet." "I'll do my best," I said, my voice tight. The truth was I was already thinking about cumming. "And besides," she said. "It just worked out that the end of harvest is my most fertile time, so if you cum in me I might get all pregnant." That stopped me. "What?" I croaked. "I thought your mother was going to put you on the pill." "She did, but I keep forgetting to take them. If I'd have been able to go to bed with you before this, I might have remembered more often. It's not my fault. This is all new to me." "Shit, Jill," I moaned. "What am I supposed to do?" "Just keep going," she said, clasping me with her pussy, using muscles I didn't think she even knew existed. "I'm almost there. Don't stop." So I bit my tongue and thought of tigers clawing my balls and kept going until she had what I would later call a class two orgasm, that is one that was honest, and happy, but only loud enough to be heard in the next room. It was full of sounds that weren't quite words, but involved the same muscles and vocal chords as words did. And it was a sound that made me want very badly to inseminate her. "Don't cum!" she squealed in the middle of it. I actually had to reach down and clamp off my prick to keep it from spurting, but I was still able to move it in and out of her. I leaned forward to suck a nipple too, just to add some stimulation. She liked that. If she liked something, it was obvious. As she calmed down I thought again of Lynne, and imagined her standing outside the bathroom door, looking worried. I was able to let go of my dick then. Even though I hadn't cum, I was losing the full hard that had just serviced the birthday girl. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, she pushed me away from her and got down off the counter, rubbing her butt. "That's not very comfortable," she commented as she got into the tub. "Come on, I want you to wash me." Ten minutes later, sitting behind her in the tub, I had another boner, hot water or no hot water. She was practically writhing against me. I had elected to fingerfuck her under the pretense of washing her pussy and she liked that too. Pretty soon she stood up, turned around and, as if she had practiced it a hundred times, stepped over my shoulder with her right leg, which basically brought the pussy I had just been probing to my face. She held on to the towel bar and started grinding her pussy against my mouth. She got nasty. That's the only way I can describe it. It was SO far from what I would have expected from her, and so NEAR to the way her mother could act, that I just HAD to think of it as a genetic trait. "Suck my pussy!" she hissed. "Get your tongue up in there, Bob. Come on. Suck my clitty and get me off. Come on, Bob, push it deep, Bob. Oh yeah, that's it ... that's where your prick is going to be in a little bit. It's going to be fucking me again, Bob. Your great big grown up prick is going to be up in there, wanting to spurt and make a baby in me. Ooooo, I love this. SUCK ME!" That looks like it was an unbroken report on what she said, but it's just the highlights, kind of all mooshed together like they do with sports highlights. The hand that wasn't holding the towel bar was gripping my hair, and her hips were moving constantly, shoving forward and pulling back, as her legs moved her higher and lower. She basically masturbated on my face, and there were all these moans and squeaks in between sentences. I'm telling you I was rock hard and almost worn out when she let loose with another class two orgasm. She finally stepped back and hurriedly ran her hands over me. "There!" she said. "All clean. Let's dry off and go to the bedroom!" But drying off involved sucking my dick, which had now been hard long enough that it ached a little. And her hot, sucking mouth was more than enough to bring the balm from my nuts. "Oh shit!" I groaned. "I'm gonna..." This time it was her fingers that clamped me off at the base of my prick. She did it hard, too! "No, no, no," she scolded my penis, kissing the tip again. "You need to stay hard for me. It's my birthday!" "No it's not," I moaned. "Your birthday was last week. I need to cum, Jill." "You can cum in a little while," she said, as if I were a complaining five year old. "This is MY night, remember? I had to wait all these months, remember?" "You didn't actually wait," I groaned, remembering blowing a nut in her hot, sucking pussy. "Hush!" she said, squeezing the base of my cock harder until I winced. "Mom might hear you. She can never find out we cheated, Bob!" "OK, OK," I moaned. "Can we hurry? I'm dying here." "Now you know how I felt all that time," she said. If I'd have been listening better I'd have heard a distinct lack of passion in her voice. And I might have asked myself WHY that lack of passion was there. I might have realized she WASN'T being swept away, unable to control herself, and that she had very identifiable goals in mind for this night. But I wasn't listening that closely ... because I WAS swept away by all this. ------- We hadn't brought clothes to the bathroom with us, but that didn't bother Jill at all. Again, taking me by the hand, she opened the bathroom door and led me naked down the hall to her room. Lynne was not, as I had imagined, standing outside the bathroom. I looked around, but didn't see her. Jill's passion returned as soon as she pushed me into bed. I don't know where she learned all this stuff, but she'd been studying, because she climbed on me, reached for my prick, and the next thing I heard was her sigh of contentment as she impaled herself on it. "Don't you cum in me," she moaned as her pussy muscles began milking me. She sat completely still, looking like a statue. But those muscles were devastating. "Jill!" I panted. "Honey!" "Hmmmm?" her muscles never let up. "You have to stop that," I groaned. "Stop what?" she asked, dreamily. "Squeezing me like that," I whined. "I'm gonna cum!" "Don't!" she said, her eyes clearing as they bored into mine. "I already told you you could get me pregnant. This is my night, Bob, not yours." "But I can't help it!" I gasped. "If you keep doing that ... uhhhhh ... oh shit, Jill!" "What?" she asked, still staring at me. She put her hands on my chest, almost like she was trying to hold me down. "Get off!" I was too close. It was going to happen. "I don't want to," she said in almost a little girl pouty voice. Her muscles never let up milking me for a second. "Get OFF!" She leaned over, sliding her hands up to cup my cheeks. "No," she whispered into my lips. Then, as I spurted her full of a month's worth of pent up sperm, she kissed my lips tenderly. And her pussy muscles never stopped milking me until I had nothing left to give her. ------- I had finally stopped gasping for air when she sighed. Again I missed the fact that that sigh was almost theatrical in nature. "You are so bad. I TOLD you I'm right in the middle of my fertile time!" "I tried to warn you," I said, finally feeling like something was wrong with this picture. "So much for getting what I want for my birthday. I only got to cum what?" She seemed to count silently, "I only got to cum three or four times, and then you spurted and you won't be worth anything for a long time. And you probably got me pregnant too." She was trying to make me feel bad. I knew that much. But what I couldn't figure out was ... why? I'd done what I was supposed to do, right? I mean there was this agreement and yes, I had cheated one time on it, but if anything she had almost made me cheat. So she couldn't be mad about that. I began to get a glimmer that some of this protestation might not be completely real. "Well, I guess I should go on to my room," I sighed. "Sorry." "What are you talking about?" she asked, suddenly very alert. "I get you all night." "Like you said," I muttered mournfully, "I'm not going to be good for quite some time." "Yes, but when you are, I want you here!" she said quickly. "But I can't control myself," I said sadly. "Getting you pregnant isn't part of the deal. I told your mother I'd get some condoms, but I forgot to. I don't know if there's any place open this late, but I guess I could drive to town and look." "But I want you here all night!" she complained. "You can't leave!" "It's my fault," I said. I hoped I wasn't piling it on too much, but she had been fucking with me - I was sure of that now - and I wanted to give her back a little bit. If I really WAS going to be involved with two women at the same time, I needed to be able to exert some control on the situation. "You need to get off me now," I said, lifting my hips a little." "No!" she almost yelled. "This is MY night, Bob!" "This could be the night you get pregnant if I don't get up and do something about it," I said. Damned if she didn't start crying. ------- Chapter 14 It didn't take me long to get her to stop crying, mostly because I caved completely and assured her I wasn't going anywhere, and would stay there all night and all the next day if only she'd stop crying. Then, when she was lying in my arms and did subside almost magically quickly, and I realized I'd been played yet AGAIN, my finely tuned analytical adult mind finally began using the few brain cells I had left. "You knew I was going to cum and you LET me cum in you," I accused her. She lifted her head and, with dry eyes that no longer surprised me, looked at me like I was a candidate for an old time dunce hat in a one-room school house. "You GOT me to cum in you!" I said heatedly. "Oh purpose!" Her sigh this time was real, and full of resignation. "I hope our children get their intelligence from me," she said. "You WANT to get pregnant?" I looked at her in disbelief. "I've wanted to have your baby since I was fourteen," she said, stroking my chest. "Fourteen?" I was gasping again. "Yeah. Silly, huh." "Damn, Jill!" I moaned. "Why didn't you TELL me?" "Because I knew what would happen if I did. Especially back then. And I knew what would happen if I told you or Mom now that I wanted to get pregnant. You'd both go into speeches about college and my future and all that stuff, when all I really want is to raise apples and your babies. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds and opened them again. "Our babies," she corrected herself. I just stared at her, unable to say much. I think that's because I was very conflicted about all this. Part of me was about to yell "Hell YES you need to go to college and secure your future, young lady!" At the same time another part of me was writhing around, slathering like a hungry dragon, hissing "She wants you to knock her up! Yesssssssssss, so fuck a baby in her sweet, flat belly. Fuck two or THREE babies in her willing womb!" She seemed to know what I was thinking. "Look," she said patiently. "My mother has done a wonderful job of developing the orchard, and SHE never went to college. It's mostly hard work that is required, and the things I need to learn I can probably get in online classes. I don't need to go off somewhere for four years to learn those things." She ran a finger down the middle of my chest. "And I don't want to leave here for any extended period of time, if it means I can't be in bed with you naked, like this. "Well thought out," I finally said. "There's only one teensy tiny problem." "What's that?" she asked. "Your mother thinks all you have is a crush on me, and that by letting you play with me you'll get that worked out of your system. She's not planning on any babies here." "Another reason why I didn't tell her I wanted you to get me pregnant," she said. "But that's not going to work," I said. "Here you are, eighteen, and all excited about being an adult and working in the orchard and starting a family, but you're hiding things, like a child. You can't base an adult life on sneaking around behind people's backs." "You know, you're no fun at all," she said, quite seriously. "So what you're saying is that you don't want to be a father." "I didn't say that at all," I said sternly. "Don't go off on a tangent, or pout. If you want to be an adult, you have to face things in an adult fashion." "DO you want me to have your baby?" she asked. "That's not fair," I said. "ANY man would want to get you pregnant." "That's not true," she said. "Langston doesn't want to get me pregnant. I made him look at me naked and he didn't even get a boner." "You did?" My voice squeaked on the last word. "Yes, and I looked at him naked too. It was interesting ... but looking at his penis and chest and all that didn't make me feel all wiggly like looking at you does." "When did all this happen?" I asked. The image of two teenagers, playing doctor for all intents and purposes, was kind of erotic. I decided I was a dirty old man. "Never mind. You didn't answer my question. Do you, or do you not want to get me pregnant?" "This is just fucking weird!" I blurted. "Most women are more interested in asking if a man wants to be committed to them or get married or whatever, before they start talking about having children." "I don't want to marry you," said Jill firmly. "My mother might, and you can only marry one of us, so I'll leave that part to her. I just want to live with you here on this farm and have your babies and raise them." "That's just crazy!" I sighed. "Will you answer the question or not?" she asked. I tried to hedge one last time. "Whether I want to get you pregnant or not has nothing to do with anything," I said. "The FACT is that your mother is part of this crazy, insane equation, and what SHE thinks about things is important too." "So you do," she said, sounding satisfied. "I didn't say that!" I insisted. "But you do," she insisted back. "OK, maybe I kind of get excited about the idea, but I don't want to hurt you or start an argument with your mother, and I KNOW this will do that!" "You let me worry about my mother," she said softly. Then she crawled on top of me and kissed me like she meant it. We both ran out of air and broke the kiss, panting slightly. "I used to only think about having one," she whispered, rubbing her slippery pussy against my prick. To my amazement, that prick was rock hard again. "But when I saw Snow White have all those puppies, I knew one wouldn't be enough." My newly stiff prick was suddenly encased in hot pussy, already slippery from the last dose of baby makers she'd coaxed out of it. "I don't want to have them all at once, of course," she said as she lifted her hands to maul her nipples. "And I only want to have half as many," she went on as she started riding me. Men are weak. Half an hour later I spurted in her again. And this time she didn't have to trick me into it. ------- I got out of bed first in the morning. Part of that was because I had to pee really bad and, once I'd done that, I knew that if I got back in bed with her we'd end up making love again. I also knew that Lynne was already up and moving around, and the thought of us making the bed bounce while Lynne could be walking by the door was just a little much for me. So I got dressed. Then I realized I had to go face Lynne. I mean we all lived in the same house. And I had to face her sooner or later. So I just bit the bullet and went to the kitchen. She was there, sitting over a plate cleaned of the eggs and bacon that had originally been on it, nursing a cup of coffee she was holding in both hands. She looked up at me. "Please tell me I'm not that loud," she said. I got past my surprise by going to the coffee maker and fiddling with getting me a cup. By the time I sat down opposite of her, I felt much better about facing her. "Actually, I think you are," I said. "Good grief," she sighed. "You can never touch me when we have guests staying with us." "Right," I said. "Other than that you seem to be handling things rather well." "I've had a couple of months to get used to the idea," she said. "I'm not handling it all that well, though." "Oh," I said softly. "Sorry." "I didn't think I'd be this jealous," she said. "Of all the emotions I expected from you, jealousy wasn't one of them," I said, surprised. "Me either," she said, shrugging. "I expected to be grossed out, or to feel like a pervert or something, but none of that happened at all. All that happened was that each time she started yelling I knew how she felt and wished it was me." "So you don't hate me?" I asked. "No." She blinked her eyes a couple of times. "I'm not sure how to feel about most of this, but I know I love you both. That much I'm sure of." This seemed like as good a time to test the waters as any other. "What if this turns out not to be a short term crush for Jill?" I asked. "Did you get that impression last night?" she asked. I could try hedging, but that hadn't worked with Jill, so I just told the truth. "Yeah, I did." "Damn." "She said she doesn't want to marry me," I blurted, trying to make things sound better. "You talked about MARRIAGE?" squeaked Lynne. "Only in the sense that she said that's not what she's looking for from me," I said quickly. "She said you could have that part if..." I realized how that sounded and jerked to a stop. Her eyes had gone round and wide. "You talked about marrying ME?" she gasped. "Not like that," I said anxiously. "What I mean is that she said that kind of relationship is something you might be interested in, but that she's not." "Then what DOES she want?" asked Lynne. "Shouldn't you ask me that?" asked Jill, stepping into the kitchen. Her hair was still tousled and she had sleepy-eyes. She'd thrown on a long T shirt, but a lot of her legs were exposed and she looked very interesting. I pushed those thoughts away. "Oh!" yipped Lynne, clearly startled. It could have been weird. Maybe it WAS weird, but it didn't last for long. "Thank you Mom," said Jill. "That was the best birthday present ever." Her voice was so casual about it that it was impossible to think of it as anything other than that ... a really good gift. "You're welcome," said Lynne automatically. "I think," she added. "Now I know why you look like that in the morning," said Jill. "I feel like I've been asleep for a month. I've never felt this relaxed in the morning." "Look like what?" asked Lynne. I held up a hand. "You two can compare notes later. This is getting too strange for me, OK?" "Then maybe you should go do some chores," said Jill, quite seriously, "while we women decide your future." "Jill!" snapped Lynne, horrified. "Look," said Jill calmly. "Now that I know what it can be like, I know you'll never give him up. And I'll never want to give him up either. So we're going to have to either share him, or send him away somewhere where neither of us can have him. I vote for keeping him around." Lynne's eyes bounced from her daughter to me and back again half a dozen times. Finally they landed on me and stayed there. "Maybe you should go do some chores after all," she said. ------- Chapter 15 To my knowledge, nobody has ever done a book about the conversations women in polygamous marriages have when the husband isn't around. It's probably fair to say there is a seniority system amongst the wives, whether it's formal or not. And the social structure under which polygamy exists probably doesn't matter all that much. By that I mean it probably doesn't matter whether the family is from one of the tribes of deepest Africa, a Muslim tradition, a Mormon sect, or whatever. I suspect it doesn't even matter whether the polygamy is formal or not, for that matter. The women undoubtedly work things out between themselves, and I don't know of any study or book that's been published about how that works. Such a study could be out there, but I haven't heard of it and, until I got involved with Lynne and Jill ... it just didn't matter. I suspect there's a good dose of self interest involved in such "negotiations" between wives. Self interest seems to drive most decisions. But if the women involved already love each other, with the kind of bond that Jill and her mother had, then self interest might not be the primary driving force. We don't know the answer to that in this case either, because when I was finally allowed to learn about the results of the negotiations, I wasn't given any information about the nuts and bolts of the conversation. But I'm telling you, it must have been VERY interesting. What happened was that I puttered around outside and then went back into the house. "We're not finished yet," said Lynne, so I went back out and did more chores. That happened three more times, consuming an hour and a half before Lynne came out of the house with the car keys in her hand. She also had a sports bag hanging off one shoulder. "I'm going to town," she said, as if nothing odd had happened in the last five years. "I'd like some company. Want to go?" ------- Now I know I haven't exactly described my actions in this story such that any of you will be led down the garden path about me being a genius, or anything, but on the other hand I'm not completely stupid. I knew enough, for example to answer her question "Yes," and then keep my mouth shut as we got in the car and drove away. The first five miles were very quiet, though she looked over at me a few times. I really had no idea what to do and keeping silent just seemed like as good a plan as any at that point. As she turned off the blacktop onto a dirt track I wasn't familiar with, she spoke. "What surprises me about this the most is that the only thing I'm actually really upset about is her not wanting to go to college." I didn't know if I was supposed to already know about that part or not. I decided that I was just going to be me and hope for the best. "I can understand that," I said. "I told her I wanted her to have a better life than I did, and she pointed out that there was nothing wrong with my life at all." "That might be oversimplifying things a bit," I suggested. "Oh her part, yes," said Lynne. We came to a gate that crossed the road and she stopped. "Would you get the gate and close it again after I've gone through?" "Sure." I got out. The gate looked locked, but as soon as I got close enough I could see the padlock on the chain wasn't actually fastening the chain together. I swung the gate back, she drove through, and I pulled the gate closed again. I got back in the car. "This property belongs to Ken Wilkerson," she said, moving forward." The road leads to a small hot spring he decided not to develop, like most of the other ones in town have been." "Oh," I said, wondering what was going on. "You know the hot springs in these parts are rumored to have very positive health effects." "I'd heard that, but I've never visited any of them," I said. "I did," she said, her voice sounding full of emotion. "This one, in fact." "Really." I still had no earthly clue as to what they had talked about, or why we were where we were, instead of "going to town" like she had said we were going to do. "I know you're wondering what we talked about," she said. "That's fair to assume," I said. I didn't mean it to come out as dryly as it did. She shot me a look. "We're going to test your theory," she said. "My theory?" "The one that says you can love two women at the same time." That suggested several things, but I didn't want to assume any of them. My penis, bless his nasty little heart, wasn't of the same carefulness and started to stiffen. "I don't know quite what to say," I said. "You could say thank you," she said, which took me by surprise. "Thank you," I said immediately. She smiled, and so help me it looked like a grim smile. "Not many men get to have two women like this," she said. "I'm very aware of that," I said. "Are you sure this is going to work out?" "Not in the slightest," she said. "The last thing I want to do is make trouble between you and Jill." She looked over at me and then down at my lap, where what my penis was doing was quite visible. "How noble of you," she said. I think she DID mean for it to come out in as dry a tone as it did. "I mean it," I said. "I love you both, and if that means giving both of you up to keep the peace, I'll do it." "We talked about that," she said. "We decided that is a last resort kind of thing. We're going to try some other things first." "Am I permitted to know what these things are?" I asked. She snorted. "Of course you are. You're part of them, silly." "It's just that you haven't been all that communicative since your ... um ... negotiations ended. "What do you think I'm doing now?" she asked. I looked around at the rough country outside the bouncing car. "I haven't got a clue," I admitted. "Oh this," she said casually. "I'll explain this in just a minute. But first I have to ask you a question." "Shoot," I said. "It's a very serious question," she said. "OK," I said. "Do you REALLY love both of us?" "I do," I said without pause. "And does that mean you'll accept whatever rules it takes to live with both of us?" "Of course," I said. I asked you a question yesterday that you avoided answering," she said. "What was that?" A lot had gone on yesterday and I didn't feel like trying to sift through all that to try to guess at what she was talking about. "Would you marry both of us?" "You know I can't do that," I said. "But would you, if you could?" "Would the two of you marry me if you could?" I asked in response. "Actually - and I can't believe I'm saying this - but yes ... I think we both would." "Jill said she didn't want to get married," I said. "That was just a negotiating position. It was supposed to be a peace offering to me, to get me to go along with letting her keep ... um ... seeing you." "Oh," I said. For lack of anything else to say I asked "So did it work?" She shot me a look that had half a frown in it. "Men are so amoral sometimes," she sighed, sounding disgusted. "Women make us that way," I said, defensively. She drove on silently until she turned a corner and a series of small steaming pools came into view. It was obvious other cars had been here before and had created a parking lot of sorts, but hers was the only vehicle there now. She parked the car and got out. She reached in the back and got the sports bag and started walking away from the car. Finally she turned around and stared at me, still sitting in the passenger seat. "Are you coming?" she yelled. I caught up with her after running maybe fifty yards. "You know that communication we were talking about?" I said as I settled into a walk beside her. "This might be a good time for some of that." "I'll tell you all about it in a few minutes," she said. "Meanwhile, all you need to know is that we're going swimming in the hot springs." "We are?" "Oh yes," she said firmly. "We definitely are." ------- Again, I had enough brain cells left that I used them to assume that no bathing suits were going to be called for, so when she dropped the sports bag beside a large, shallow pool of steaming water and pulled out a blanket, I helped her spread it out and then, as she started disrobing, I did too. It was almost weird. I mean we'd seen each other naked plenty of times, and been as intimate as two people can be. But I had never spent the night before in bed with her daughter and THEN seen her naked. It just had an odd, surreal kind of feel to it. I don't know if she felt that too, but when she was naked she just stood and looked at me. Her eyes dropped to my boner, but didn't linger. "I love you, Bob," she said softly, looking me in the eyes. "I love you too, Lynne," I said, avoiding looking at her body. She held out her hand and led me into water that took some getting used to, requiring that we ease into it slowly until it was up to our shoulders. While we did that she fondled my penis, keeping it hard despite the heat of the water. Then she finally kissed me and tangled her arms and legs with mine. With no foreplay at all, she reached for my cock and notched it between pussy lips that were slippery despite the hot water. She pulled me into her, and wrapped her legs around my back, holding me deep. "My daughter loves you too," she said, squeezing my prick with her pussy muscles." I let my hands caress her back and sides. I kissed her with all the feeling I could put into a soft, not too long kiss. "I know," I whispered. "That doesn't affect how I feel about you." She stared into my eyes for long seconds, while her pussy kept milking my cock. I realized that it was actually cooler inside her than in the water around us. That water had threatened to take some of the steel from my prick when we were getting in, but it was back now that it was only in 98.6 degree territory. "She told me what she let you do last night," she said, tightening and loosening her legs, making me move an inch or so in her. "I thought you knew what we were doing," I said. "I didn't know she was trying to get pregnant," she said, speeding up a bit. "I didn't know either," I said, a little alarmed. "Not at first, anyway," I said, honoring my pledge to myself to just tell the truth. "I admit I screamed at her about that," panted Lynne. "That was the thing that bothered me the most, I think." Being a man, I couldn't suppress my next comment. "I thought you said her not going to college was what bothered you the most." "It is, now," she said. "We worked out the pregnancy thing." "Oh?" I needed to distract myself, because the urge to cum in her was strong. "She made it quite clear that she was going to get pregnant with you, and that there was nothing I could do about it," she panted. She was moving faster now, humping me with short, rapid strokes. "How does that amount to working it out?" I gasped, trying hard not to cum. "Because I told her I was going to get pregnant with you first," she gasped. ------- Chapter 16 "Oh damn!" I groaned. "Not you too!" "The last time I made love in this pool was almost nineteen years ago, Bob," she huffed in my ear. "Paul got me pregnant with Jill in this pool." Her pussy muscles rippled and she sobbed "Oh yes!" as she began to cum. "It was ... October," she panted. "It was snowing. This ... pool ... is famous ... with the ... locals ... for ... ahhhhhhh ... this is so good, Bob ... people think the pool helps ... uhhhh ... women ... get ... mmmmmmmm ... pregnant!" Then she couldn't talk any more as the orgasm washed over her in full and her whole body seemed to vibrate. And the combination of what she was doing, and what she'd said just blew away any thought of controlling myself any longer. I just let my balls loose and flooded her with a fresh crop of sperm, made in the short time since I had flooded her daughter with the last batch. ------- After our orgasms she kept me tightly in her, and became much more talkative. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have told you what I intended, but I was just so frustrated. "That's what I'm talking about," I murmured into her ear. "I don't want to be a source of frustration between you two." "I don't think you will be," she said. She lay back, letting me support her upper body with my hands. "I think we've always been a little competitive, running this place by ourselves," she said. "Maybe that's normal between a mother and daughter. But when she admitted she was ovulating and had gotten you to fertilize her last night I think I went a little crazy." "I can understand that," I said. "It was a foolish thing to do." "I know that," she sighed. "But at the same time I knew how she felt. Ever since we made love the first time, I kept thinking about how I should try to avoid getting pregnant, but I just couldn't do it." Her eyes glazed over and then cleared again. "DIDN'T do anything about it is the more truthful way of putting it. I wanted to take the risk. Being in love again was so precious. I never thought it would happen to me again after Paul." I understand that," I said. "At least I think I do. I'm not sure I was really in love before. Not after what I feel for you." "And Jill," she added. "OK. And Jill," I admitted. "Still, we should have asked you first," she said. "I never expected any woman to ask me to make her pregnant," I said, a little dazed. "I mean most couples avoid that until the time is right." "That's what I'm talking about," said Lynne. "We should have discussed it with you first, instead of just using you like that." "Don't feel too badly," I said, smiling. "I don't actually feel very used." "You don't mind that two women have tried to get pregnant from you without asking you first?" "I love both women," I said, simply. "Whatever they want, I want to try to give them." "Even if that means you're tied to them by children?" "I don't need children to tie me to them," I said. "This is all so strange," she sighed. "I never expected my life to come anywhere near a situation like this. It's like a fairy tale or something!" I hugged her to me and tried to flex my now soft penis. Being a man, I wished I was hard again. "Then we just have to make sure that we all live happily ever after," I whispered. ------- I know I've presented this in a way that makes it all look seamless and simple, but you almost have to do that to tell a story. Chaos doesn't make for a good story. Not that it was always chaos, but... I digress. Sorry. It wasn't all sweetness and light. I'm just being honest. But when I try to remember the part that was chaotic, the examples I come up with seem trivial. That's just honesty too. I mean if the worst thing you have to deal with is a couple of crabby, big bellied women, waddling around complaining that you got them fat and ugly ... well ... you've got a pretty good life, my friend. Oh, there were the inevitable arguments that a man has with his wife. He has them with the woman he lives with if he isn't married. Hell, for that matter he has them with the MAN he lives with if that's the situation he's in. And I'm not talking about two gay men either. And there were the inevitable arguments that two women have, whether they're related or not. It was a little stressful for a couple of months, once we all decided to - and I still can't believe I'm saying this - give plural marriage a shot. As in most plural marriages in America these days, it wasn't formal, and we didn't drive down the highway with tin cans hanging off the bumper of the car or a sign in the back window saying "JUST MARRIED ... TWICE!" We did have a little ceremony, of sorts, in which we made some promises to each other. Chief among them was to be open and honest in our communication with each other. Lynne and I were both adult and experienced enough to know that things can change, even when you don't want them to, so we formed a corporation in which there were three equal partners, each having a third share of ownership of the farm and orchard. It felt a little like signing a prenupital agreement in a way, except the paperwork didn't get processed until we had already been living together for a month. Still, once that was done, it was mostly forgotten. That phrase: "living together" might sound goofy to you, since you know we had already been living together for years. But it really WAS different, once I was sharing a bed with both women on a regular basis. And, just for you horndogs out there, no, we didn't all sleep in the same bed. I know that's what you're imagining, but the girls never got interested in each other or in having me in that way. On the other hand, there WAS a kind of competition they engaged in that might have made an outside observer think there was some girl on girl thing going on in the house. That's because each woman sometimes tried to tease me into choosing her for the night, which meant there were two extremely scantily clad women scampering around the house, bending over (sometimes side by side) and filling the air with the smell of a turned on woman who wants her man to do something about it. And, while we didn't all sleep together, the couch was a different matter. If we were watching a movie, or TV or whatever, I might find myself making out with both wives, or making out with the top of one wife while the other wife made out with the bottom of me. We didn't have any orgies on the couch, but it got close a few times. So there WAS the occasional competition between the girls. I tried to handle that by lavishing attention on both of them, sometimes together. I did lots of things, from making candlelight dinners for them, to buying them both matching diamond rings. The thing I remember most was when they were both six months pregnant, and I got them naked on the couch and did an inch by inch comparison between their bodies. I pointed out how everything was different, and why I loved each different part of them, until I got to their swollen, rounded bellies. As I smoothed a hand over each one, I said that they were exactly the same, and that I loved them both and could never make a choice between them. That was the night we found out it's impossible for one man to make love to two women at the same time. He can love them both at the same time. He can feed them both at the same time. He can do almost everything in the world for two women at the same time. But he can't make love to both of them simultaneously. One of them has to watch. And THAT is a process that, when two women love each other, leads to LESS competition, because each one gets to see how important the man is to the other woman. After that night they never did that again - watched the other one making love with me, I mean. And yet, it led to a situation where, in that way that only women have of understanding each other, they could tell when the other one needed some loving, and they worked out who got me on that basis. It led to a situation where, when one of my wives got me for sex, she got all of me, and didn't have to share me again until we were done. But whoever needed me the most on a given night, was likely to get me. It was true cooperation and love, shared by all three of us, and all three of us benefited immensely by it. ------- Seven kids and fourteen years later I have to say that the humiliation of losing my fiance to a jock and leaving Chicago in shame is the best thing that ever happened to me. We tend to think of the painful things in our lives as being bad, but that doesn't mean they ARE bad. Some of dealing with pain like that is perspective, but the majority of coping with the coincidence in our lives is treating each one as an opportunity, instead of something to dread. Hell. Maybe that's just perspective dressed up in other clothes. The future of the orchard is pretty well established. Even when the kids take over management of the orchard, they'll have to hire forty or fifty harvesters, and that's even if we open up a "U Pick IT" operation for the locals, who are upset that almost all of our harvest has been going out of state for the last few years. The market for organically grown apples surprised even us. And now I have to go. Kylie, our youngest (Jill got the four she wanted) just came to tell me that Madonna is having her puppies. Who is Madonna? Well, Snow white disappeared four years after Jill and Lynne and I got married. I think the wanderlust in her overcame the desire to be surrounded by her pack of puppies once they grew up. I think she didn't like being penned up when she went into heat either. Bashful, who turned out not to be so bashful after all, at least not with her brothers, took Snow White's place on the farm as the bitch to be pursued. We locked her up too, whenever she was in season, but with six brothers, not to mention Duke who, even though he was aging, was still interested, it was inevitable that one of them would get to her. I actually felt like we'd done a pretty good job keeping her puppiless for four years. I made sure Jill understood we could only keep one of her puppies, and that the rest would have to be given away this time. She chose one female from Bashful's first litter and named her Madonna. While I spent years trying to keep my wives pregnant, between Bashful and Madonna, each of the kids got supplied with a puppy to raise as his or her own. Except for Kylie, who wasn't old enough last time there was a litter, but is now, and is consequently jumping up and down right now, because one of the puppies THIS time is going to be hers. So you'll understand why I have to go. I have another coincidence to deal with. And sometimes the coincidences in our lives have to take priority over other things. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2009-10-26 Last Modified: 2012-09-24 / 11:18:31 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------