Storiesonline.net ------- The Babe Bike Blues by Lubrican Copyright© 2009 by Lubrican ------- Description: Jennifer's life was already tough enough, based on her speech impediment alone. Then her parents were involved in a terrible accident. She needed help, and the only person she could turn to was her "Uncle" Bob. He came to get her and take her to her parents. but he had to bring the wrong motorcycle for the trip. His hard tail affected her soft tail, which caused him to have some hard times of his own. Codes: MF rom reluc het 1st oral pett preg slow ------- ------- Foreword This was supposed to be a short stroke story based on an idea generously provided by a reader who goes by the handle "Drunken Dwarf." I thank him for that idea. The problem is that some characters refuse to restrict themselves to a short story, and some characters want to do more than stroke. The characters in this story are a good example. Reading this book may be tedious, initially, because the lead female character stutters, and I spelled out every single place she stutters. I did that on purpose, because it makes for frustrating reading, just like talking to someone in real life who stutters is frustrating too. I wanted the reader to FEEL her frustration with her speech impediment. Those of you who are familiar with my work know that I don't do ANYTHING in a story without a reason. The stutter matters. So be frustrated for a while, but keep going. You'll get used to it ... just like you learn to be patient with someone who speaks this way in real life. Bob ------- Chapter 1 Jennifer Brazelton sat, an intense look of concentration on her face. The tip of her unruly tongue was gripped lightly between perfectly even white teeth as she carefully penned the last of the letter she was writing to the man she thought of as her Uncle Bob. She took great pride in the flowing script of her penmanship and wanted it to be perfect. Though she wasn't conscious of it, the perfection Jennifer strove for in her written communication was an attempt to compensate for the fact that her verbal communication was typically a disaster. Jennifer stuttered — she had stuttered all her life. If you never heard Jennifer speak, you would have thought she was no different than any other eighteen year old girl. She drew the eye, in fact, with her slim, athletic body and the hank of carelessly styled platinum blond hair that hung, usually straight, just past her shoulders. She looked like a California girl, straight off the beach, though she was missing the tan. But when she was forced to speak, it was agonizing, both for her and the listener. Typically, whoever she was talking with ended up leaning forward, mouth working, subconsciously trying to help Jennifer get the words out. Her face was a picture of frustration in these situations, and the face of the listener was one of pity or sorrow. Growing up as a stutterer is an education in how hostile the world can be. She'd had to learn to ignore the other children's cruel barbs and teasing. Kids who called her "J-j-j-Jenny" were put in the class of humans who didn't deserve any of her attention. She got used to being called "stupid" or "retarded." Each new year meant new teachers, and new teachers always attempted to make her participate in class by answering questions aloud. She knew they thought they were trying to help her improve in some way, but they were simply torturing her. And when they finally gave up and stopped calling on her, she was immensely relieved. All she wanted was to blend into the background and be as invisible as possible. As time went on, the armor she developed to keep the hostile and uncaring world away from her tender underbelly got a little stronger, and she cried a little less. It no longer bothered her when someone assumed she was stupid because she couldn't say a complete sentence in less than a minute or so. She knew she wasn't stupid. Her teachers did too, once they graded her papers. And she learned that the "do-gooders" as her father called them, really WERE trying to help, even if they didn't know how to and even if their efforts to include her in conversation only pulled her into the light, instead of letting her rest comfortably out of sight. Most importantly, Jennifer learned that the majority of communication, when it takes place on a face-to-face basis, isn't done with the voice at all. She became a master of non-verbal communication, using a shrug, or nod, or any of a number of facial muscles to say something without words that almost anyone could understand at once. Home was the most comfortable place for her to be. Don and Susan, her parents, were used to getting information in a halting, stumbling kind of way. It was normal for them. They'd tried everything when she was young, of course. Even now they had Jennifer in speech therapy on a regular basis. But, after years of disappointment, they had finally accepted their daughter as a beautiful, if slightly flawed young woman whom they loved, whether she stuttered or not. She knew they loved her and home was a fortress in which she felt completely safe and mostly happy. When puberty rumbled into her life, it was another disappointment. The girls she knew started dating the boys she knew. They didn't abandon her for these boys. Not really, because they had never taken her into their inner circles in the first place. But she heard them talking, and saw their body language as they flirted, and teased, and did the mating dance that almost all young women learn to do. Almost all. Other than her inability to speak without stuttering, there was nothing wrong with Jennifer. That included her hormones. Those hormones provided the same stimulus to her body that they did in other girls. She just had no outlet for it. She was cute, and she smiled a lot, because she had learned that smiling was a way to satisfy people. If you looked happy, most people left you alone. And, boys being boys, when they looked at her and imagined her naked, writhing under them as they performed THEIR part in the mating dance, they were interested. Some of them even asked her out. It always ended badly, though. Four of them hadn't been able to make it through even an hour of a first date. They were used to rushing a girl through the conversation stage of things and getting right to the necking part. Jennifer, of course, never rushed anything ... even if she tried. Two others thought they would be able to just skip the talking part altogether, and tried to go straight to the petting stage. One got slapped, the other walked bowlegged for two days. One might wonder how a girl, then merely sixteen, with no real experience with the male of the species, might be knowledgeable of how to handle a boy in that particular situation. She had a tutor, of sorts. And that tutor was her Uncle Bob. He wasn't really her uncle. Bob Jefferson was her father's best friend. Other than her father, he was the only man in her life who really meant something to her. She had known him for as long as she could remember. Bob was a confirmed bachelor, but it was more by choice of lifestyle, rather than any intent to avoid a lasting relationship with any particular woman. Bob loved women. But, he also loved the life of the nomad. When he was seventeen he joined the Navy to see the world. He'd read books and seen movies about Navy Seals and dreamed, like many young men dream, about how cool it would be to be accepted into that very special fraternity of men. Don Brazelton felt the same way, and fate had brought them together in boot camp. The reality, of course, was quite different than the books and movies, but both young men were good at being challenged, and the teamwork they learned and participated in made them inseparable. Initially, it was them, and the rest of the trainees, against the Chiefs who seemed to be trying their best to kill them all during training. Later, when they were stationed together in the same Seal team, they trusted their lives to each other on a regular basis during missions. While Don still dreamed of settling down some day, though, Bob was more the type to revel in the knowledge that he was a thoroughly dangerous man. Six years later they both got out of the Navy. Don had seen the world, and there was a girl back home he was interested in. Bob's reasons for getting out were more complicated. First off, if Don didn't have his back, it wouldn't be fun any more. He'd have to worry. Another reason was that he'd seen the inside of a brig more often than he would have liked, both military and civilian. He was pretty familiar with the procedures involved in a Captain's Mast too, though he always got his rank back eventually. He was one of their best team leaders, and they knew it. The rules and assholes who always seemed to end up with the most brass on their collar chafed at him, though. Had he been able to stay a team leader while the rest of the Navy (except a few logistics folks who kept the teams in beans and bullets) went on permanent shore leave, he'd have stayed in. So, while Don went off to woo a wife, Bob did a stint as a Merchant Mariner. He'd gotten to see the world as a Seal, but he'd never had time to explore all the exotic locales the Navy had whisked him to and away from. He spent seven years roaming the world before he'd seen enough to realize that people were pretty much people, wherever they were. He left the Merchant Marine and went to see his "brother," where he met the wife and their seven year old daughter for the first time. He was captivated by the little girl almost instantly. She spoke to his soul in many ways. Having been in twenty-three countries where he didn't speak the language, communicating with this cute little girl was a piece of cake, and he could care less how long it took. She was a doll and her shy smile, as she looked up at the beefy man with the long black hair and bushy black beard, made his heart melt. Unlike most children, she didn't run screaming when she saw him. Instead she sat, rapt, as he told her stories about where he'd been and what he'd done there. He told her stories about her daddy too, when he could get away with it. Neither Don nor his wife, Susan were keen for little Jenny to know some of the things Don had had to do as a Seal. Of course those were the best stories and Bob loved telling them, when Don and Susan weren't around to tell him to knock it off. He spent two months with them, doing basically nothing. Not that he was a drag on the family. He was good with tools and Susan's car had been giving them problems. It was soon running better than when it was new. Bob wiped out Don's "honeydo" list within a week and went on to find other things that needed to be done. He spent a lot of time with Jennifer. It might be argued that both were a little lonely. He had no real ties, except to Don, and she had no friends to play with. He took her with him grocery shopping one day. He liked to eat and his big frame took a lot of fuel. He didn't expect his brother's family to support that need. Jennifer was in seventh heaven. As any parent knows, who has taken a seven year old to the grocery store, the vast majority of the communication between parent and child consists of "No," or "Put that back!" and maybe "That's not good for you. Let's get something healthy instead." Bob didn't speak that language. "Sure, baby," he usually said. "Get two packages. One for you and one for me." In another case he said, "Oh yeah, Jeny. I love them. And that brand is the best! Those things will kill us for sure. They're LOADED with sugar. Better get three." They came home with eight boxes of cereal, three boxes of Ding Dongs, a variety of chips and dips, a jar of peanut butter that already had jelly mixed in with it, the giant community-sized economy assortment bag of practically everything the Hershey's chocolate company produced, and twelve frozen pizzas. There was also an assortment of Hamburger Helper, canned tuna, Spam and six pounds of string cheese. Of the twenty-four cans that spilled out onto the counter top at home, one was green beans. The rest were an assortment of Chef Boyardee's culinary offerings. Susan didn't have a fit. "Where are the fresh vegetables and fruits?" she asked. "That's sissy food," replied Bob, smiling. "Scurvy is a thing of the past." "We're sissies, Bob," she said calmly. "No way!" he groused. "Go back and get the vegetables and fruits, Bob." "But I don't have to take anything back ... right?" he asked hopefully. "Don't you think five flavors of ice cream is a bit much?" "Of course not. Variety is the spice of life. I got cones, too. The good ones—the ones that look like waffles." He beamed proudly. Susan gestured toward the refrigerator. "We don't have that much room in the freezer, Bob." "Yeah, I noticed you guys need a deep freeze. Where could I get one of those? Does Don know anybody with a pickup truck?" Jennifer had stood and watched, fascinated as the huge man stood politely while her mother looked up at him and calmly straightened him out. And it was Jennifer who picked out the fruits and vegetables when they went back to the store. Susan Brazelton was intimately aware of how important Bob was to her husband. He HAD talked about everything with her. She was fully aware that the reason she had a husband she was madly in love with was because this bear-like man had always brought the team back safely. For that reason, she considered his hijinks to be more of a distraction than a fault. And he was very good for Jennifer. It was impossible, however, for Bob to miss the fact that he was a square peg, while Don and Susan's world was full of round holes. He loved the time he spent with them, but didn't want to wear out his welcome. Having seen the whole world, Bob decided that now he'd spend some time seeing the country of his birth. He had money and he had time. He bought a big touring bike, waved to the only family he had, and disappeared for three years. His return, when Jennifer was ten, had been a surprise to both of them. It was as if he'd never left, except that he had more stories to tell. Oak Valley, where Don and Susan lived with the delightful little girl who called him "Uncle Bob," wasn't big enough to support the idea Bob had for the foreseeable future. To do what he wanted to do required a larger population base. He took his life savings and with two other former Seals, opened a bike shop outside Atlanta. They specialized in custom bikes, both building them and servicing them. As with most things he'd tried, he was successful. He got back "home" infrequently, but his time was still his own and he was the boss, so he was able to spend a week, several times a year, with the man he considered to be his brother. And each time, as far as Jennifer was concerned, it was like the big teddy bear, as she sometimes called him, had never left. He always had a big grin for her and always sat patiently as she brought him up to date on what had happened in his absence. And, because he now had a fixed address, she began writing him letters. She wrote him one a week. It took all week to write it, but it was almost like a hobby for her, so she didn't mind. On paper she could say whatever she liked, in long, complicated sentences that flew onto the white surface. Her letters were often five or six pages long, and she said everything to him that she couldn't say to the friends she didn't have, or the parents who no child can confide everything to. In addition to his occasional long visits, he appeared for each of her birthdays. It was from him she got the almost life-sized Teddy Bear she named Bob. She'd never forget that day, her thirteenth birthday. She already knew the sound of the motor of the big hog her uncle rode. When she heard it that day and ran to the front window to look out, Uncle Bob rode in with the bear behind him, like it was his rider. He'd said he brought her a boyfriend and she hadn't cared that she was too old for stuffed animals. She'd slept with that huge five foot tall bear taking up most of her bed for years. She'd never tell anybody, but she practiced kissing that bear, too. She never knew what to expect from him on her birthday. Sometimes he was extravagant, and sometimes ridiculously simple. On her eleventh birthday he gave her a sweatshirt that said, "If you don't want to know ... don't ask." For her fourteenth it was a pair of diamond earrings that were half a carat apiece. Her mother was scandalized. Susan was even more scandalized when he produced an identical set for her. To Don, he gave a case of Heineken. On her sixteenth birthday she opened a little box to find a pair of big, red wax lips. When she looked at him in confusion, he returned her look with a serious face and said, "Sweet sixteen and never been kissed." Then he grinned. "So KISS THEM!" She was quick on her feet, though, and saw that the wax lips were designed to be clamped in the teeth, so that they covered a person's actual lips. She handed them to him and just waited. It was he who was confused then. "P-p-p-put them o-o-o-n," she said patiently. "You're supposed to kiss them," he said. "I w-w-w-will," she stuttered. "Wh-wh-when y-y-you p-p-put them on," she finished in a rush. He smiled. "You don't want to kiss your grumpy old Uncle Bob." She lost her patience then and shoved his gift carefully between his teeth. Then she kissed the hard, cool wax lips just like she'd practiced on Bob the bear. It wasn't very satisfactory, but she'd been too chicken to take them out of his teeth and kiss his real lips, which she was quite sure would feel much nicer. For Bob's part, when he saw her close her eyes and earnestly kiss those silly wax lips, he felt a jolt as he realized she really WAS growing up. He slapped her on her denim-covered butt cheek and, when she jumped back and yowled, he grinned evilly and said, "That's one. You're how old? Sixteen? Oooo, this is going to be FUN!" He jumped for her, but wasn't really trying to catch her. He knew she'd be able to outrun him. She reminded him constantly that he was out of shape and needed to get back into the daily grind that had made him tough as nails when he was a Seal. Still, it was fun to chase her around while she hooted and yelled. At least until Don or Susan yelled at him to act his age. He'd tried to give her a Sportster for her seventeenth birthday, but her parents wouldn't let her have it. She'd had to settle for being taken out to dinner at the fanciest place in town. Uncle Bob had looked ridiculous in a suit borrowed from Don, which was probably two sizes too small. With his black hair in a pony tail and the ends of his moustache waxed and curled, he looked like a blacksmith from the fifteenth century trying to fit in to the twenty-first. Her mother had done her hair and loaned her what she called her "little black dress." She'd never felt so grown up in her life. He'd let her sneak sips of his wine that night while she ate things she hadn't even known existed, but which kept her almost breathless with the anticipation of what would come next. He showed up for graduation, and gave her a Harley Davidson leather jacket — black, with silver studs and snaps. It felt like it weighed a ton when she slipped into it, but she didn't want to ever take it off. Then, two months later, the night before her eighteenth birthday, he called. "Sweet pea," he said. "I got this problem. A buddy of mine is in some trouble, and I have to go help him. That means I'm going to miss number eighteen." Her disappointment was palpable in her voice, even though she only said two words: "Oh. O-k-k-k-ay." "No it's not OK," he said. "But this is important. This guy saved my life one time and I owe him. I wouldn't miss your birthday for the world, but I have to go help him. I'll make it up to you, though. I promise." "I underst-st-st-stand," she said, trying to make her voice light. "I l-l-l-ove you. B-b-be c-c-caref-f-ful." "No sweat," he replied. "The bastards that are fucking with him will learn the error of their ways, and then we can talk about what I can do to make up for missing a very important birthday. OK?" "I SAID O-k-k-kay!" she barked. "OK," he said. "Give your daddy a hug for me. And slap your mother on her pretty little ass for me. Bye." The next day was made less dismal when her parents gave her a car. She had decided college wasn't for her. She wasn't worried about the coursework, but communicating wouldn't be worth the trouble, especially since she had no idea what she wanted to do as an adult. For now she was going to stay at home, much to her mother's delight, and try to find a job somewhere where speaking with people wasn't part of the job description. A week later she still hadn't heard from Uncle Bob. She had no idea where he was. He hadn't answered his cell phone, so she was writing this letter to him, telling him of her frustration that employers didn't seem to understand that she wasn't stupid and could do almost anything, as long as she didn't have to talk to the public. Her mother stuck her head into Jennifer's bedroom. "We're about ready to go. Are you sure you'll be all right? We'll be gone for two weeks." Jennifer's frustration with employers was transferred to her mother in an instant. She took a breath, but her face said it all. Her mother held up both hands, palm outwards. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you'll be fine. We'll call you when we get there. I left Aunt Linda's phone number on the fridge. I hope you find a job, sweetie." There was a hug then, initiated by her mother, but entered into voluntarily by Jennifer as her irritation evaporated. She followed her mother out and gave her father a hug too, and a kiss on the cheek. They were hugs she'd be forever grateful she got to have, as things turned out. Two days later the phone rang and Jennifer, still jobless, expected to hear her mother's voice on the phone. It was a woman who said she worked for the highway patrol in Arkansas. There had been an accident. She was trying to locate next of kin for Donald and Susan Brazelton. ------- She was bawling when Bob answered the phone. She'd dialed his number over and over for forty-five minutes. "What?!" he barked. It only took him seconds to recognize the voice. She was incapable of actually saying anything, both because of her speech impediment and because she was sobbing. A feeling of terror gripped the big man's gut. Instinct kicked in and he asked her questions that could be answered with a yes, or no. "Are you safe?" he asked. "Y-y-y-es," she sobbed. "Are your parents OK?" "N-n-n-oooooooooo." "Are you at home?" "Y-y-y-es." "I'll be there in eight hours," he said. "I won't be able to answer the phone. Do you need the police or somebody to help you right now?" "N-n-no." The helplessness in her voice was like a knife, turning in his heart. "Hang on, Baby," he said urgently. "I'll be there. Just hang on." ------- Bob flipped the phone closed and stuck it in his back pocket. He'd only turned it on because now that he was inside and the perimeter was secure, he could be alerted by the men securing it if there was any trouble. It had rung before he could put it back on his belt. It hadn't been Matt, or Johnny or Ripper, though. It had been Jennifer. He looked at the man lying on the floor under him, with Bob's left hand covering his adams apple, choking off all noise except for the wheezing of labored breathing. This man, and his gang members, were the reason Bob was in town. The man, who called himself Sheik Abdulla Hamid, was a twenty-two year old African-American who had never been fifty miles from where he was born, except for an eighteen month stint in prison where he changed his name. "Tyrone Robinson" wasn't cutting it in the slam. He hadn't accepted any of the tenets of Islam while he was locked up, but he liked the sound of the names he heard and played the game to get one of his own. He was the leader of the gang that claimed this area as their turf. Matt, also a former Seal on Bob and Don's team, had caught one of Abdulla's minions trying to break into his car, and had stopped him from going further. It's hard to break into a car when both your arms are broken. It's hard to call for help too when the man who broke them drives away in the car you were trying to steal, leaving you lying on the ground helpless. Sheik Abdulla had taken offence to Matt's actions. The car had been on a list that a particular buyer wanted, and that buyer had supplied Abdulla the owner's name and address. When they went to the address to get the car, it wasn't there, because Matt's wife Peggy had gone to the store in it. So, to soothe their honor they drove by and sprayed the house with gunfire. Matt's six year old son had almost been hit. Matt couldn't deal with the gang without leaving his family unprotected, so he sent out a call for help. Bob, along with three others, had responded. It was Matt and the three others who were securing the perimeter of Sheik Abdulla's current ... residence. A Tec-9 was lying on top of a box serving as a coffee table nearby. Sheik Abdulla had laid it there when he got back to his pad. He hadn't had time to reach for it when Bob stepped out of the bathroom and put him on the floor. Bob had been waiting seven hours by then, and was a little impatient. He was even more impatient now. "OK," said Bob. "Here's the deal." His hand tightened on Abdulla's throat just enough that the man's eyes bulged. "Your pip squeak got caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. My buddy broke his arms. You know who I'm talking about?" He squeezed just enough to cut off Abdulla's air and the man tried to nod frantically. He let him breathe as he went on. "You, or some of your people shot his place up. That's unacceptable. It's kind of like a declaration of war. What you need to understand is that the war is over. You lost." Bob reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. His thumb moved the opening knob while his wrist flicked and the blade snicked out and locked. Before Abdullah's eyes could even register what was happening Bob's hand flashed down and Abdulla felt a searing, white hot pain on the side of his head. His scream was unable to exit his lungs, though, because Bob's hand clamped down on his throat again. Bob wiped the blade of the knife on Abdulla's shirt and closed the knife one-handed before he put it back in his pocket. Then his hand reached and came back up holding Abdulla's ear in his fingers. "We accept your surrender," he said as tears overflowed Abdulla's eyes and he dragged air in through the tiny opening Bob allowed him. "Consider this reparations for the damage your people caused to my man's house when they shot it up." Now Bob reached behind him and removed the Colt .45 from the holster in the middle of his back, pulling it out from under his motorcycle jacket. He inserted the tip of the barrel in Abdulla's wide open mouth. Abdulla's eyes bulged even more and a strangled whimper came from his throat. "Since you can't sign a formal surrender document, I'm going to keep your ear as sort of a sign of the agreement between you and me that the war is, in fact, over. Should you, or any of your people forget that the war is over, or should Matt or any member of his family come to any harm whatsoever, I'll be back for your balls. And just so your people understand too, it won't be just YOUR balls we come back for. We'll make a whole COLLECTION of balls. You, as their leader, need to help them understand that part. Got that?" Abdulla's eyes were beginning to glaze over and Bob released the pressure on his throat. He gave the man time to get some oxygen into his lungs, whereupon Abdulla began moaning. When his eyes had cleared Bob scraped the front sight of the Colt along the roof of his mouth. "I really would rather just blow your fucking brains out, right here, right now, but I need you alive ... for the present ... to keep your associates in line. You think you can do that?" The man's chin bobbed and he choked. Bob lessened the pressure on his throat some more. "I can't hear you," he said softly. "Yah!" choked out Abdulla. "Is the ear enough, or do I need to take one of your testicles to convince you how serious this matter is to us?" Bob pulled the barrel just clear of Abdulla's mouth. "NO!" shouted Abdulla. "I mean yes!" he said as his eyes widened again. "NO TROUBLE!" he gasped, trying to find an answer that was safe. Bob grinned. "Good. We don't normally leave survivors when the mission is complete. But this is a special situation. You really need to understand that part. As far as I'm concerned you're wasting perfectly good air just by breathing it." He reholstered his weapon and then reached for the Tech nine. Holding it by the pistol grip, he raised it and then smashed it down on the floor. Abdulla's head turned to watch as the barrel snapped cleanly and bounced a few feet away. "Cheap, crappy gun," commented Bob as he bent the magazine of the weapon by smashing it on the floor again. "You won't be needing it any more anyway." Then he clamped down on Abdulla's throat until the man lost consciousness. He called each member of the team. The perimeter was still secure. He told them where to rally, made sure Abdulla was still breathing, and then left. ------- Chapter 2 She was curled up on the couch, still by the phone, when Bob walked in the front door. Exhaustion had given her sleep, though it was a twitchy, un-restful kind of slumber. The noise he made closing the door awakened her. She blinked, cried out, and then rushed into his arms. It took him ten minutes to find out that Don and Susan weren't dead. A local driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and hit Don and Susan's car head on at high speed. Both were in the hospital, flown there by life flight. Susan's prognosis wasn't good and the hospital was asking for authorization from the next of kin for operations. Communication, under the circumstances, had been virtually impossible. Helplessly Jennifer was able only to get a number to call back and written that down on an envelope sitting by the phone. It was wadded in her hand. The first thing Bob did was call the number. It was to the State Patrol, instead of the hospital. The ten minutes it took for him to explain the situation almost broke his patience, but he was finally given a number for the hospital. It took another ten minutes before he was connected with the right person there. "Your name doesn't match that of the patients," said the woman. "He's my half-brother," lied Bob instantly. "Do whatever it takes to give both of them the best chance of recovering." "Mr. Jefferson, I hope you understand the delicacy of our situation here," said the woman. "Your half-brother has a number of broken ribs, which punctured one of his lungs. He's on life support, which will do his breathing for him until his condition is stable. One of his legs was crushed so badly that they're not sure they can save it. It will require a series of operations if they can save it, but it's not a life threatening condition." "What about Susan?" asked Bob. "I'm afraid I can't talk to you about her," said the woman. "You're not a blood relative. There are confidentiality laws." "Her daughter is right here with me," said Bob. "How old is she?" "She's eighteen." "Well why didn't you say so?" complained the woman. "She is who I need to be talking to in the first place." "She has a speech impediment," said Bob. "It's very difficult for her to communicate on the phone." "Well, be that as it may, my hands are tied, Mr. Jefferson." "How about if I translate for her?" asked Bob. In the end, the receiver was placed between Bob's and Jennifer's heads, so both could hear. The woman wanted some information from Jennifer, who stuttered through her full name, address, date of birth and the full names, addresses and dates of birth of her mother and father. The woman also wanted Susan's maiden name before she was satisfied that Jennifer was, indeed, their daughter, though how she could have checked to see if the information was correct was a mystery. Susan's pelvis had been crushed. She was in a drug-induced coma. There had been one operation to deal with the internal bleeding, but there was severe liver damage and it was possible that she would lose one of her kidneys. Further surgery was also needed to repair the pelvis. Jennifer simply said "D-d-do it." "And the operation on your father's leg?" asked the woman. "D-d-do an-n-n-nything th-th-th-they n-n-n-need," she gasped. "That's good enough to start," said the woman. "I'll need your signature on a number of forms, though. When can you get here?" Bob spoke then. "I'll bring her straight there. We have to come by motorcycle, and it's six hundred miles, so it's going to take us a couple of days. Just get started on them. We both want them to have whatever it takes, OK?" ------- It was five in the evening when they started out. Bob had taken what he called his "babe bike" on the trip to help Matt, because it was the one he would be less unhappy about if anything happened to it. It was a special construction custom hard tail that he'd built from the frame up, using a RevTech 100 motor assembly and a RevTech 5-speed tranny. It had a springer front end that was six feet long. A black pearl paint job had red and yellow flames draping the gas tank, and then licking back across the air cleaner covers and back fender, it was low slung, almost deadly looking. He'd fitted it with a custom made king and queen seat. The queen seat was backed by a twenty-four inch tall padded sissy bar. It was NOT the bike they needed for a six hundred mile trip, but he was stuck with it. He didn't want to take the time to ride the wrong direction to Atlanta and get his cruiser. He lowered the air pressure in the back tire by six pounds. It was all he could do to soften the ride a bit. He took some things out of the rucksack he'd taken with him, to make room for a change of clothes for Jennifer. They'd have to rough it, but she probably wouldn't notice, as torn up as she was about her parents. He thanked his lucky stars that he'd taken two helmets with him too. You never knew when a babe would react to the babe bike, and he always tried to mix a little pleasure with business. He hadn't met any candidates, but now he had helmets for both of them. They'd be driving through three states that required helmets. He put Jennifer in the queen seat, fired up the hog, and drove west. ------- There was a lot going on with Bob, so perhaps he may be forgiven for forgetting WHY he called the bike they were riding "the babe bike." Jennifer found out right away, though she didn't realize it on a conscious level. She'd ridden with Bob before, but never on this particular machine. It had been Drunken Dwarf's idea, originally. His actual name was Herman Thompson, but ever since he'd been a Seal he'd been known as Drunken Dwarf, or just Dwarf, for short. It was one of those strange names that didn't seem to make sense, since he was six foot three and built like a refrigerator. And nobody had actually ever seen him drunk. The name came from his skill at unarmed combat. A team member, after watching him take out three enemy soldiers in hand to hand combat, commented later that he fought like a drunken dwarf from the Forgotten Realms book series, and the name had just stuck. He had been the first to join Bob's new business enterprise. They were sitting around shooting the shit one night, drinking beer after they locked the front doors of the shop, and he'd had this idea. The other two men present, Bob included, blew beer through their noses when Dwarf told them his idea. Bob was building what would become known as "the babe bike," and, for the hell of it, tried out Dwarf's idea. It called for a king and queen seat. If you're not a motorcycle kind of person, a king and queen seat is one in which the driver sits more or less where any driver would sit, but has his own seat. Behind, and usually above that seat a bit, is the one for the passenger. In the old days there was just one long seat, and both people sat on it. The king and queen seats can be sculpted to fit the average butt, or not. What separates it from the normal seat is that each person on the bike has his own personal place to sit. With that in mind, Bob looked for a particular STYLE of king and queen seat. The one he chose was wide and comfortable for the driver, letting him rest his weight in line with his spine. The queen seat, however, had a high, steep cantle, to put it in saddle terms, which caused the passenger, intended to be a female, to slide down and forward towards the driver. The "horn" of the queen seat was the back support of the king seat and the cantle forced the woman's weight to push ... well ... her crotch ... against the horn. Now bikes vibrate. It's just the nature of the beast. All those moving parts in the engine transfer vibration through the case to the frame, and the seat is fastened to the frame. Any of you ladies who have ridden on a motorcycle where your butt wasn't taking all your weight know what I'm talking about. But for the babe bike, that wasn't enough. Bob actually enlisted the help of a couple of the biker babes who frequented his shop, having them sit on the intended queen seat and carefully measuring where their girly parts pressed against the horn. Then he cut out a vertically oval piece of the underlying metal frame of the seat. A half inch metal rod was welded to the underside of the oval. That rod went down to a top rear head bolt. What he ended up with was an oval piece of metal, in roughly the shape of a woman's labia, that was independent of the seat itself, but upon which rested the woman's ... well ... labia. They dubbed it "the clitty whizzer." Of course there was a cover on the seat, and most of the seat had foam between the cover and the seat frame. But that oval had a piece of hard rubber on it, instead of foam. When all was said and done, any woman sitting on that seat would have the vibration of the motor transmitted directly to her pussy, and her whole body weight would be forcing said pussy against that vibration. Combine that with the hard tail, which transmitted every bump to whatever was supporting the riders, and it was the equivalent of a gigantic vibrator for the woman riding behind Bob. Horsewomen have been known to have orgasms while riding. On the babe bike, many women had had one within the first ten miles. In fact, a woman could have an orgasm while the bike was standing still if Bob just let it idle. That was the point at which the engine was the least stable, and vibrated the most. Milking the throttle caused the engine torque to move that little oval back and forth a quarter inch too. It was this little feature of the bike that Bob forgot all about when he settled Jennifer into the queen seat of the babe bike and took off for Arkansas. ------- Those first miles were confusing to the distraught young woman. She was worried about her parents, which was a downer of the worst kind. At the same time, Uncle Bob was being the best ever. He'd never let her down before, and now he was there for her. Her arms, wrapped firmly around his waist, were in a hug she didn't have to let go of. And his gruff voice, when he turned his head to talk loudly into the wind blowing past her face, told her that everything was going to be all right. She began to relax, and turned her head to lean it against his back. That's when she felt the zings of pleasure between her legs. Jennifer hadn't been raised in a vacuum. Even if she didn't have any experience with boys, she still knew how much fun it was to rub and stroke the little button between her pussy lips. Somehow, it was THAT feeling that was coming to her attention. That was very confusing, because she was most definitely NOT rubbing. But the sensations were impossible to ignore, and they just kept getting stronger and stronger until she moaned into the air whipping past her face. Bob felt her arms tighten, but didn't think anything about it. He checked the oil pressure automatically, and then the speedometer. The last thing he needed right now was to have a run-in with the cops. Her arms tightened again, and he grinned. He loved her too. He was glad he'd answered that phone call, and glad he could do something for her. Despite, or perhaps because of all the tough situations he and Don had been in back then, he was an optimist. He was sure things would work out. ------- It was obvious to Jennifer that something was terribly wrong. She had never had more than one orgasm in day. When she rubbed, she did so until that delicious feeling came and suffused her body with what felt like golden light. Then she went on with whatever she had been doing before the urge to have that orgasm had hit. Now, though, she had had six of them, if she was counting correctly. And they had happened more or less in a row. True, there were about fifteen minutes between each one, but practically all fifteen minutes were spent working up to the next one, and she didn't have to do anything at all. She began to get scared that something was wrong with her. How could this be happening? Her parents were in the hospital. She had nothing to be happy about. But she couldn't stop the feelings! ------- It was the seventh time her arms suddenly squeezed him tightly that he heard her moan. He turned his head. "YOU OK?" he yelled. "I D-D-DON'T THINK SO." she yelled back. There was a town up ahead. He needed to top off the tank anyway. It was a beautiful teardrop tank, but it didn't hold a lot of gas. Maybe she needed to pee. A bike could do that to you. He saw a station and pulled in, parking at the pump. He got off, and turned to help her dismount. She was flushed, and breathing hard as she removed her helmet. Her hips gave a little wiggle and, in that second, Bob remembered about the clitty whizzer. "Oh shit," he said softly. "W-w-what?" she asked, her voice weak. Bob had a problem. He couldn't tell her what was going on. The women who had volunteered to help make the whizzer were a different sort of woman than his best friend's daughter. He actually thought of Jennifer as his niece sometimes, and he wasn't about to tell her he'd invented a thing he used on unsuspecting women just so he could get laid. "Nothing," he said. "I think there's something wrong with the bike. It feels funny." "I th-th-think I f-f-felt the same th-th-thing," she sighed. "Yeah ... maybe," he said. "Why don't you go get us something to drink and I'll see if I can figure it out." He got a five out of his wallet and handed it to her. She walked away bowlegged. He'd see that walk dozens of times. It usually meant he was going to get his dick wet. Idly he watched as she corrected, and started walking more normally. Her hips swayed in the most delightful way. He shook his head. He didn't have to examine the bike to know what needed to be done. He needed a seventeen millimeter stubby box end wrench. The problem was that it was a head bolt he needed to take loose, and just pulling one, out of sequence, wasn't a good idea at all. Heads had a tendency to warp when that happened, particularly when they were hot. He'd never considered the possibility that he might want to have a girl ride with him on the babe bike and NOT get her clitty vibrated. He sighed. He didn't have a seventeen millimeter stubby box end wrench anyway. He had no idea what to do. He filled the tank and went inside to pay. Jennifer was nowhere to be seen, and he assumed she was in the bathroom. She was, in fact, in the bathroom. She was in a stall with her jeans and panties, which were soaking wet, down around her knees. She felt fine now. Nothing itched. She had no urge to rub. She had thought maybe she had a yeast infection or something, but there were no signs of that. She folded up several layers of toilet paper and used them as a panty liner. She wasn't willing to undress enough to remove the panties, and there wasn't anything else she could do. ------- Bob was standing, staring at the bike when he looked up and saw her coming back, her platinum blond hair blowing in the wind. He saw a man at another pump staring at her. She looked good in that black leather jacket, just like the one he was wearing. He realized the man at the pump was assuming they were a couple. Jennifer walked up to him and handed him a bottle of Dr. Pepper. Her own was already open. She had thought and thought about it, and the only thing she could think of was that the bike was doing it. And she couldn't do anything about that. She couldn't tell her Uncle Bob that she was cumming all over his motorcycle seat. She'd be embarrassed to tears. But she also knew she couldn't take a lot more of what had been happening. They'd been on the road for two hours, and there was a LONG way to go yet. She was still feeling the aftereffects of her latest orgasm. "I'm n-n-not used t-t-to th-this," she mumbled. Bob could imagine how unused to it she was. She probably had no idea what was happening to her. He'd have bet his last cent she was a virgin, and she'd complained to him for years about how unfair it was that she didn't get to date and explore boys like other girls did. "I think I've got a worn bushing," he said. "It's causing some pretty serious vibrations. Nothing that will slow us down, but it might be uncomfortable on your butt. There's not all that much padding on the seat." "I think y-y-you're r-r-r-right," she said. "I d-d-don't know ho-how much m-m-more I can t-t-take." He thought of something then. "Be right back," he said. He went in and Jennifer saw him speak to the cashier, who pointed and talked while Bob nodded. He came back. "I have an idea, and the clerk told me where I can find what I'm looking for. Think you can take it for a few more minutes?" he asked. She nodded. They climbed on the bike. The toilet paper actually helped a little bit, but it felt funny. They only went a block and he pulled in to the parking lot of a store that had signs all over it that said everything cost a dollar. "I won't be long," he said. He went in, found a box with throw pillows in it and grabbed one. He paid for it and took it out. He had her stand on the pegs while he got it into position and she settled down on it. Five miles later he turned his head. "Better?" he called back. This time the squeeze of her arms around his waist simply meant "Yes!" ------- The motel they stopped at was the first one he'd seen in miles. He'd stayed in worse, and who knew when another one would show up so he pulled in. It was one of the old time kind, like used to be everywhere along most of the roads. It was shaped like an L, with the office being on the short leg and a row of one story rooms stretching away from it. The garish neon sign out front was in the shape of what could be a 1970-something Ford Country Squire station wagon, right down to the fake wood panels on the side. The letters "Drop Inn" were under it, and below that was a flickering "Vacancy" sign. Bob climbed off the bike and then helped Jennifer off. "You want me to get you a separate room?" he asked. She blinked at him. "Of c-c-course not," she said. "I d-d-don't want to s-s-stay in a r-r-room all b-b-by myself!" "OK," he said. He went in to find a middle aged woman sitting behind the desk, watching a small TV. The bell above the door rang twice as the door hit it opening and closing, and she looked up. "I need a room," he said. The woman looked past him at the motorcycle and girl, visible through the plate glass window. "She legal?" asked the woman. "We don't run no whorehouse here." Bob was used to this reaction from people. Something C.S. Lewis had said one time popped into his mind: "What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing. It also depends on what sort of person you are." This woman revealed something about herself when she automatically assumed that Bob was with an underage whore. "Well, Ma'am," he said politely. "The fact of the matter is that it's really none of your business how old she is. Your business is to rent me a room. I have cash. We'll be staying one night." He waited. He thought she was going to resist ... to insist on being in charge of things. If she did, they'd just leave and find someplace where their business was valuable. But then she snorted and reached for a piece of paper which she launched his way. It fell on the countertop right in front of him. "Name, address, license number of both your motorsickle and your driver's license. No smoking in any of our rooms, and if you call out for food have them bring it straight to your room instead of bothering me." Bob put his name on the form and the actual number on the plate of the bike. Everything else he made up. He handed the form back to her. "That'll be forty-two twenty-three with tax," she said. He gave her two twenties, two ones and a quarter. "Keep the change," he said, smiling widely. She took her time getting him the key, which was on a board within arms reach. He figured it was her way of paying him back for a two cent tip. ------- Jennifer looked around the room curiously. She'd stayed in a motel exactly once in her life, but that had been a Holiday Inn. Both her mother and father liked to camp out when they traveled, and she'd done a ton of that, but she had very little experience with motels. "Th-th-this p-place is a d-d-dump," she said. "You take what you can get," said Bob, smiling. "Would you have rather ridden for another hour, to find someplace nicer?" Jennifer was still exhausted from the string of orgasms she'd had before he'd padded her seat. They had been nice, but she'd also felt helpless, and that had scared her. She shook her head. "N-no," she said. "How can y-y-you p-p-possibly stand r-r-riding as m-much as you d-d-do? Bob looked away. He didn't want to explain why her ride had been so different from his own. "I'm used to it," he said casually. "It won't be so bad tomorrow, as long as you use the pillow." "OK," she said smiling. "I w-w-wonder how M-m-mom and D-d-dad are d-d-doing." "We won't know until we get there," said Bob. "Try watching TV or something to distract yourself." She turned and went to the set. There was no remote and she had to push a button on the set to get the screen to light up. There were a total of five stations. "I need a shower," said Bob, not interested in the TV. It had been two days since he'd had a chance to clean up. "You hungry?" "N-n-not r-really," she said. She'd been distracted on the bike, but now the worry about her parents was making her feel restless. "When y-y-you're d-done I'll t-t-take m-my sh-shower." ------- Chapter 3 Jennifer was mildly interested in CSI Las Vegas when Bob came out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. It looked like a pretty small towel when she glanced at him. She'd never seen him like this. She stared at his chest and the muscles rippling there as he used another towel to dry his hair. He caught her staring. "Sorry," he said. "I forgot to take my clean clothes in with me, and I've been wearing the others for two days. I couldn't bring myself to put them back on." "It's ok-k-kay," she said, feeling a little flutter in her belly. She'd examined her uncle before, and had decided he was handsome in a dangerous looking way, but she'd never thought about what he might look like naked. That she suddenly found herself thinking exactly that confused her. Her eyes flitted to the front of the towel, which seemed to be tented out quite a bit. She felt guilty for wondering what the thing causing that tent looked like, but she still couldn't help herself. "I left you some hot water," he said, tossing the towel in his hand onto the bed. He bent over to get his clean shirt and pants out of the backpack and the towel ends split apart on his right thigh. She stared at that area and saw muscles rippling there too. "R-r-right," she said a little breathlessly. She bounced up out of the chair and hurried into the bathroom. She kept thinking about Bob as she showered, running her hands over her naked body. She suddenly realized her right hand was between her legs. It had already done everything necessary to get her clean down there, but it was lingering. She remembered all those delicious orgasms and, curious, began to feel around to see if anything felt different. It didn't, but she got excited and continued to rub. Jennifer WAS a virgin, as Bob believed. She had played with herself before — lots of times — but she'd never actually inserted anything other than a tampon in her body. Now, tentatively, she began exploring deeper with a soapy finger. It felt completely different from when she just pushed her clitty around with a fingertip. She realized she was trying to have another orgasm and felt embarrassed. What was happening to her? Was she turning into some kind of sex fiend? She jerked her finger out of her pussy and quickly washed the rest of her body. She washed her hair too, even though it would just have to dry nature's way. It wasn't until she got out that she realized she'd done exactly the same thing ... she'd forgotten to bring in a change of clothing. There were two towels left. She wrapped one around her body, which left a little cleavage exposed and barely covered her butt. The other she wrapped around her hair. Her comb was in the backpack. She looked in the mirror and blushed. Then she went to the door and opened it four or five inches. "Uncle B-b-bob?" she called out. She peeked through the door to see him sitting on the end of the bed. He leaned forward and pushed the off button on the TV. He had on jeans, but no shirt. He looked around at her. "Yeah?" "I f-f-forgot my c-c-clothes. Just d-d-don't l-l-look when I c-c-come out, o-k-k-kay? This t-t-towel is k-k-kind of s-s-small." "No problem," he said, turning back around. He really didn't intend to look. But with the TV off, the screen became a poor quality mirror and when she ran to the bed, where the backpack was, he couldn't help but stare at her reflection. With that other towel piled high on her head she brought to mind an exotic Egyptian queen. When the towel around her body came off, he couldn't help but admire her full breasts, capped by nipples he wanted badly to turn around and look at directly. He wondered what color they were. It took her a while with her arms raised to work the neck of the T shirt over the towel on her head, and he was reminded of the statue of the Venus de Milo. His eyes dropped to her lower body just before the T shirt fell to cover her hips. The afterimage of the fluff of stark white hair on her mons was still in his mind as she wiggled into clean jeans. He realized she'd put on neither panties nor a bra, probably because of her hurry to get dressed. Twice he saw her reflection dart looks at him. "OK," she said as she buttoned the jeans. He turned to see her lifting her hands to the towel around her head. The T shirt was maroon, and those nipples, which might be maroon colored too, pressed outwards proudly through the dark cloth. She was, in his opinion, as close to perfection as anything he'd seen, and he just watched as she dug a comb out of the backpack and started running it through her tangled locks. "W-w-what?" she asked, stopping long enough to stare at him. "Nothing," he said. "You're just all grown up now. I hadn't realized it until right now, I think." "I d-d-don't f-f-feel all g-g-grown up," she said sadly. "Well you are," he said firmly. "And you're drop dead gorgeous to boot." She stopped and put her hands on her hips. "Y-y-you always s-s-say th-th-that," she said, laboring as usual. "Because it's true," he said, grinning. "Now, don't argue with me. We've got a long day tomorrow. You're a stone fox, but I need my beauty rest." He looked around. Other than the bed, the only furniture in the room was the credenza the TV was on and one plastic chair with steel legs on it. The bed only had one pillow on it. At least there was a thin rug on the floor. He picked up the pillow he'd bought to defuse the problem with the babe bike. "You can have the bed." She went back to combing her hair out, and her tugs at her hair suddenly seemed to be producing the stutter in her speech. "You c-c-can't sleep on th-th-the f-f-floor." "Sure I can," he said. "I've slept on dirt plenty of times." "W-w-we'll b-b-both sleep on th-th-the b-b-bed," she said. "I don't think so," he said. "Didn't you just hear me tell you you're all grown up and beautiful? Who knows what evil things I'd try to do to you in my sleep?" "Ha ... ha," she said, slowly and with obvious effort not to stutter. "I'll be fine," said Bob. "Trust me on this, Princess. The last thing you need is me hogging the bed or rolling over and squashing your pretty little self all flat. Besides, your daddy would skin me alive if he found out I slept in the same bed with you." "W-w-we're w-w-wearing clothes!" she said, frowning. "And D-d-daddy w-w-would n-never hurt y-y-you. You're his b-b-best f-f-friend." "Just get some sleep," said Bob. "I'll probably get you up way earlier than you're used to." He got into position on the floor, on his back, with his arms spread wide and the small pillow under his neck. He only intended to use it to keep his head from rolling to the side, which might cause a kink while he slept. This position was one he was very familiar with. It was for power naps and he firmly believed that twenty minutes of sleep in this position was worth two hours in a bed. "Get the light, would you?" he said to the ceiling. His imagination was running wild. He thought he smelled pussy. The room went dark and he heard the bed move as she got into it. It was quiet for half a minute, then she shifted, making the bed creak. She tossed and turned some more, but didn't say anything. He sensed the bed moving and heard the rustle of the sheets and blanket as she tried to get comfortable. He was almost asleep when her voice came from right above his face. "Uncle B-b-bob?" He opened his eyes and saw the silhouette of her head, hanging over the edge of the bed. "Yeah?" "I'm sc-sc-scared." "There are no monsters under the bed," he quipped. "I checked." "Th-th-they m-m-might d-d-die." He heard tears in her voice and felt like a heel for having joked. "They're getting the best care," he said softly. "We'll get there tomorrow and then you'll get to see that everything's going to be OK." He hoped he was telling the truth. "I'm st-st-still s-s-scared," she moaned. He stared up at her dark outline. "I know, baby," he said. "Just try to remember something good. Concentrate on that memory and don't think about anything else. You'll fall asleep. I promise." ------- Jennifer stared at the ceiling. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and there was a surprising amount of light coming through the front window in the room. She tried to do what Bob had told her to do, but it was hard. Every good memory she thought of included her parents. Frustrated, she tried to think of something else. The recent motorcycle ride popped into her mind. She thought about all those delicious orgasms she'd had sitting behind Uncle Bob as the feelings overwhelmed her over and over. Her hand drifted to the crotch of her jeans. She pressed firmly and felt tingles of anticipation. She unbuttoned the jeans, intent on keeping that feeling of anticipation in her mind, and slid her hand inside them. The jeans were too tight and she wiggled them down off her hips. Then, unable to spread her legs, she worked them all the way off. That was better. She stroked her pussy lips gently and let one fingertip find and produce zings from the hard little button that had so recently flooded her body with pleasure. She felt a stab of shame that she was doing this while her parents were on death's doorstep in the hospital, but shoved that thought away. She concentrated on what she was doing, trying to keep her mind clear of the fear that went with thinking about her parents. ------- Bob woke, suddenly alert, and then realized it was just the bed that was making noise as Jennifer tossed and turned. He heard her make a little sound in her throat. Was she crying? The bed moved more and she whimpered. He sat up. His eyes had adjusted to the dark too, and he saw her bare legs, knees slightly bent and spread—her hand busy at the juncture of her white thighs. He watched as her neck arched and a long sigh escaped her straining throat muscles. He lay back down, aware that his jeans were uncomfortably tight. He had a raging boner. His mind whirled. She WAS grown up. She was fully a woman. If she wasn't his best friend's daughter she'd be a prime candidate for the Babe Bike. It had obviously gotten her going, and now she had HIM going. He thought about masturbating too. The thought of doing that along with her was very appealing, but he had nothing to shoot his spooge into and he wasn't about to put it on the carpet. He felt helpless, something that was very unusual for him. He listened and realized he hadn't heard her moving for a while. Maybe she was finished. If he played it cool, he could get up, go to the bathroom, take care of his aching prick and she'd be asleep by the time he came out. He got up and, facing away from her, went to the bathroom. ------- Jennifer was in the middle of making slow, soft circles with three fingers, rubbing the tips of those fingers over the slippery lips that folded together to cover her clit. It had been delightful. Knowing now that she could have more than one of those delightful feelings in a row, she was slowly working her way up to another one. Then she froze in horror as her uncle suddenly stood. She felt completely exposed, but could tell he wasn't looking at her. She pulled the sheet over herself as he closed the bathroom door. Light suddenly shone brightly through the crack at the bottom of the door. She played possum, wanting him to think she was asleep when he came out. It took so long she was actually sleeping when Bob slipped out of the bathroom, his prick now soft and empty. He couldn't help but look at her as he returned to his part of the floor. He'd thought about her the entire time he'd stroked his manhood. He knew he should feel bad about that ... but he didn't. Ten minutes later there was only the sound of two people breathing as they slept. ------- Masturbating had helped Jennifer get to sleep, but it didn't keep the nightmares at bay. She woke, crying out at a dream in which two coffins were being lowered into one hole in the ground. She clutched at Bob, when he appeared on his knees beside the bed, and pulled him up onto the bed. It was just natural for him to hold her as she sobbed, stroking her back, whispering into her hair that it was going to be OK. It was natural for her to fall back to sleep in his arms as the comfort he offered slowly soothed her fears. It was also natural for him to resist disturbing her by getting back on the floor. He was fully dressed, after all. But he knew she was not. All it took was for his hand to slide down her back just a little too far ... just once ... where it slid off of the material of her T shirt and onto the smooth warm skin of her bare bottom. His reaction was natural too. This time he couldn't do anything about it, though, and he finally fell into a troubled sleep with another erection straining in his jeans. ------- Bob woke to the feel of a warm, good smelling woman rubbing her pussy on his thigh. It was a languid, slow movement, but the leg thrown over his thigh made it clear what was rubbing against his leg. He opened his eyes. Her face was pressed against his chest and one of her arms thrown over him in a loose embrace. He couldn't tell if she was awake or not, until he concentrated on her breathing, which was the slow and measured cadence of sleep. He also couldn't tell if the erection in his pants was from what was happening or just his usual morning wood. He realized suddenly that there was warm skin under his hand. He was cupping her butt, not exactly helping her rub, but not far from it. He lifted his hand and rolled away from her. Her breathing changed and she lifted her head, looking around with sleep-glazed eyes. "Morning," he said softly. "It's time to go." Her hand tightened on his shoulder and she pulled herself against him. "I love you," she sighed. He noticed the lack of stutter in her voice just as SHE noticed she was still grinding her naked pussy on the rough cloth of his jeans. "OH!" she yipped, rolling away from him. They both looked down to see that her T shirt had ridden up during the night, leaving her loins exposed to their eyes. Her platinum pubes were stuck together with the juices her body had produced, both before and during her sleep. "OH!" she squealed, blushing furiously as her hands scrabbled, trying to grip the cloth of the shirt and push it downward. It was made very difficult by the fact that it was clear up to her rib cage and she was lying on top of it. Bob rolled off the bed, fully awake, and landed on his feet. He turned his back to her. "Come on, sport," he said, his voice over-loud as he tried to ignore what had just happened. "No time to lollygag around in bed. We've got miles to go and I need something to eat." He stayed where he was, though, waiting until he thought she'd had time to rearrange things. "You decent now?" "Y-y-yes," came her muffled reply. He turned to find her sitting up, her lower half covered by a sheet quickly pulled over her legs. Both hands were covering her flaming red face. "No big deal," he said, heading for the bathroom. "You ain't got anything I haven't seen before. Get dressed while I take care of things in the bathroom. Then you can have your turn." ------- Jennifer got up, feeling miserable and embarrassed. She had been in the process of waking slowly, enjoying the dream she was having, and not wanting to let it slip away from her. It had included Uncle Bob, somehow, in some hazy way, and she was about to have another one of those delightful, wonderful orgasms she'd had so many of recently. His sudden movement had confused her, because his moving wasn't part of her dream. Then, as she realized he was pulling away from her, her dream mind didn't want to let go of him. That was when she'd told him she loved him, hoping he'd come back. Then she woke fully, and the dream turned into a disaster. She found her jeans and wiggled into them, still without panties, again because she was in such a hurry. The T shirt she just left on, because that's what she had intended to wear for the day anyway. She only had two changes of clothes in the backpack, and was obviously going to have to wear each set for more than one day, unless she could find a washing machine somewhere. The bathroom door opened, but only a couple of inches. "Safe to come out?" he called. "Y-y-yes," she moaned. Her face felt hot and she wished she could run away. "I'm s-s-sorry," she whined as he opened the door the rest of the way and came out. "Nothing to be sorry about," he said briskly. "I told you you were all grown up. That's just part of being that way. Don't worry about it." What struck her was the sincerity in his voice. She could tell that he really meant what he was saying. He DIDN'T think she was some kind of slut, or that she had done anything horrible. She felt an explosion of relief and warmth suffuse her body and she lurched toward him. His hug was both strong and gentle at the same time. "I love you, too," he said softly. "Now, let's get moving and get something to eat so we can go yell at your parents for worrying us." ------- The truck stop he pulled into was about ten miles down the road from the motel. She had been relieved when the pillow, back in place between her crotch and the motorcycle seat, had let her ride without those feelings which, right now, were the last thing she wanted to experience. When they got off the bike, though, she didn't know what to do with the pillow. He plucked it from her hand and stuffed it between the sissy bar and the seat. They took their helmets inside with them. Inside, seated in a booth, Jennifer looked everywhere except at Uncle Bob. She knew she was still blushing because she could feel it in her cheeks. He ignored her, his eyes scanning a menu. "No coffee," he said. "Coffee means potty breaks and we don't want those today." "Ok-k-kay," she said. The waitress arrived with silverware and two glasses of water. "You need more time?" she asked, pulling a pen and her order booklet from her apron. "Coffee?" "No," said Bob. "Water is fine. I'll take the biscuits and gravy, extra gravy, and some fried potatoes." The waitress wrote it down and looked at Jennifer. Having done this before, Jennifer just pointed to what she wanted on the menu. "Toast or pancakes?" asked the waitress. "T-t-toast," Jennifer stuttered. The woman looked at Jennifer and then at Bob, who leaned back, unconcerned. "Toast it is," said the waitress. Then she turned and left. Bob couldn't think of anything to say, so he just kept quiet. Jennifer saw the waitress go behind the counter and put their order up on a big silver wheel that had clips around the outside of it. Then she leaned over to talk to the man on the other side of the window, in the kitchen. The man looked sharply in Jennifer's direction and seemed to ask the waitress several questions. Ten minutes later the man from the kitchen brought them their plates of food. He set them down and stood, looking at Jennifer. "I didn't know what kind of jelly to bring you," he said casually. "Connie forgot to ask you." Jennifer looked at Bob, who was pulling his plate in front of him. She looked back up at the man who was staring at her intently. "G-g-grape," she said somewhat explosively. "Are you OK?" asked the man suddenly. "Do you need help?" Bob looked up at him, his eyebrows raised. "Is there a problem?" he asked the cook. "You tell me," said the cook, who was a big beefy man. "This little lady looks awful uncomfortable." Bob looked at Jennifer, who looked flustered. Her cheeks were pink and she was obviously uncomfortable, but that wasn't unusual when she had to speak to strangers. "She's uncomfortable because she has a speech impediment," said Bob calmly. "And having to answer questions from strangers bothers her." The cook looked at Jennifer. "Is that true?" he asked. "If it's not, you just tell me. If this guy is holding you against your will or something just say the word, 'cause we can solve that little problem right pronto." Now Jennifer had the look on her face that Bob knew well. It was the look of someone who didn't want to talk being forced to, under circumstances that were getting more and more embarrassing. He didn't stand up, because he knew that would only escalate things. "Look," he said calmly. "If you think she's been kidnapped or is in some kind of trouble, then call a cop. Right now we'd like to eat our breakfast before it gets cold, OK? We're not going anywhere." Now the cook looked uncertain. His eyes swiveled from Jennifer to Bob several times. Finally he said, "Grape ... right?" Jennifer nodded and he left. She looked at Bob. "You really do look uncomfortable," said Bob. "Don't worry about it. Eat something and then get up and go to the bathroom." Jennifer looked confused. "I d-d-don't have to g-g-go," she said. "I know, but that will show them you can move around of your own free will. But eat before it gets cold." They ate in silence. Suddenly Jennifer scooted out of the booth and stood up, looking around for the bathroom. Bob ignored her when she walked away. He wasn't surprised when Connie, the waitress, arrived at his table with a coffee pot and cup in hand. "You sure you don't want coffee?" she asked. She didn't sound at all nervous. Bob glanced at the helmets sitting on the table against the window. "How many bikers come in here and order coffee?" he asked. That flustered her. "Just tell whoever's bothering my niece to get finished so she can finish breakfast and get back on the road. Her parents are in the hospital and we're on our way to see them. She stutters, and it embarrasses her. You guys are putting her through the wringer because of how we look, and it's starting to piss me off. She doesn't need this shit on top of everything else that's happened. So just do whatever you have to do to figure out nothing is wrong here and leave us the hell alone, all right?" Connie looked nervously in a direction behind Bob, who did not turn around to see where she was looking. Then she hurried away. Perhaps five minutes later Jennifer returned to the table and slid back into the booth. She stared at Bob. "P-p-eople are s-s-stupid!" she snorted. Now the tinge in her cheeks was from anger, instead of embarrassment. "I h-h-had to t-t-tell them t-t-to leave m-m-me al-l-l-one!" "Sometimes they see bad things in places like this," said Bob, trying to calm her down. "Truckers pick up runaways ... stuff like that." "I t-t-TOLD them n-n-nothing was wrong!" she almost shouted. "OK, OK," said Bob, raising both palms to face her. "Just finish your breakfast and we'll be on our merry way." She ate quickly then and glared at Connie, who finally brought two packs of grape jelly to the table. "Check, please," said Bob to the woman. "Gus said it's on the house," said Connie somewhat stiffly. "We were just concerned." "I know," said Bob. "Every biker who comes in here must drink coffee and kidnap little girls. It's got to be a real trial for you." "You don't see the stuff I see!" Connie said, defending her assumptions. "You don't see the poor girls who come in here wishing they'd never left home!" "I'm glad for that," said Bob. "Tell Gus thanks, but bring us a bill anyway. I wouldn't want there to be any more misunderstandings. If we come back through here on the way back home maybe we'll take him up on his offer." "W-w-we're NOT coming b-b-back here!" Jennifer exploded. Connie fled. When they were done, Bob left a twenty on the table and told Jennifer not to hurry on the way out. ------- Chapter 4 Jennifer was so distracted by what had happened in the truck stop that she forgot all about the pillow. She just climbed back on the bike without putting it back in place. Bob didn't notice either. He was more concerned with not appearing to speed off. He wasn't worried if the cops stopped them, but it would cost time, and he didn't want that. As he pulled out across the parking lot, heading for the exit, Jennifer leaned forward and spoke in his ear. "I'm n-n-not a little g-g-girl!" Bob laughed and turned his head as images from last night flashed through his mind. "You got that right, Princess. You're for sure not a little girl any more." Jennifer felt the warmth of satisfaction in her chest as she squeezed Bob. Then he turned onto the highway and accelerated, and she remembered the pillow as those disturbing/delicious feelings began to pummel her. She took it for five miles before she knew she had to do something. She reached behind her and tugged at the pillow. Then she had to stand up on the foot pegs to try to get it into place. The bike wobbled a little and Bob turned his head. "Sit still!" he barked. "The p-p-pillow!" she shouted. He slowed while she stood and stuffed the pillow into place. She got it almost all the way under her, but when she sat down her butt was still being vibrated, just at the bottom of her slit. It wasn't so bad, though, so she squeezed him to let him know she was settled. For the next hundred miles she leaned her head against his back and just enjoyed the buzz. When they stopped for gas she was turned on and had to admit it to herself, even though her butt hurt a little. She got off the bike and walked around, feeling bowlegged. To her disgust, she felt like rubbing. When she got back on the bike she fiddled with the pillow and found that, with it in just the right place, she could lean back against the sissy bar, which prevented the exquisite feelings. But if she leaned forward, the crotch of her jeans came into contact with the seat of the bike and, though she didn't know it, the clitty whizzer. For another hundred miles, she alternated between leaning forward long enough to have a glorious orgasm and then leaning back to recuperate from it. It took Bob fifty miles to figure out what she was doing. He didn't quite know what to think. The bike was doing its job. And she'd masturbated herself in bed the night before. She WAS an adult, technically. But he also thought of her as his niece and, therefore, untouchable. Still, when they stopped for gas the next time, he had to adjust the boner in his jeans. ------- Three hundred miles was all they could take that second day. With the hard tail suspension, even Bob was ready to stop, even though it was only three-thirty in the afternoon. They had spent an hour having lunch and, going on two lane roads with towns slowing them down regularly, had only averaged about fifty miles per hour. They agreed to stop for the day when Bob filled up the third time. Jennifer's thighs ached and her butt hurt. Her abdominal muscles, unused to both the stress of leaning back on the pillow and the five orgasms per hour she'd been having since breakfast, felt like she'd done too many sit-ups. She couldn't help but walk bowlegged when she got off the bike at the Comfort Inn he pulled into. "We're going to have someplace nice tonight," he said, leaning back to stretch his back. "Maybe there's a laundromat around here, too." The clerk at the desk was completely polite and assumed nothing about them except for one thing. "We've got a hot tub in the pool area," he said helpfully, looking at the helmet cradled under Jennifer's arm. "I hear it soaks the aches and pains away really well." "Th-th-that sounds d-d-divine!" sighed Jennifer, completely unconcerned that she was stuttering. "Laundry facilities?" asked Bob. "A block and a half that way," said the clerk pointing. "And a Super Wal-Mart down the street another mile or so. There's a card in each room with places that will deliver takeout, and there are tons of places to eat on the strip." "Got a double?" asked Bob. The clerk checked his computer. "I have a room in the back with two queens," he said. "It's non-smoking, though." "Perfect," said Bob. ------- In the room Jennifer flopped onto one of the beds. "Everyth-th-thing h-h-hurts," she moaned. "The hot tub will fix you right up," said Bob. "I d-d-don't have a b-b-bathing s-s-suit," she sighed. "Wal-Mart will," said Bob. "You want to take a nap before we go get one?" "N-n-no," she said. "I w-w-want to b-b-be ab-b-ble to j-j-just crash wh-wh-when I g-g-get out of th-th-the t-t-tub." "That means getting back on the bike," he said gently. "Ohhhhhhh," she moaned. "You want me to go pick you something out?" She sat up and looked at him like he was crazy. "L-l-like you'd g-g-get the right s-s-size!" she said, as if it was obvious that was impossible. ------- They spent an hour in Wal-Mart while she picked out a bikini and he found a pair of baggy trunks. He also picked up another back pack that he was pretty sure he could fasten to the handle bars. It would look goofy, but would double the storage room they had. They each got two more T shirts and he got them each a pair of gym shorts to sleep in, so they wouldn't have to wear jeans. He also bought a small bottle of laundry detergent, and they returned to the motel. When Bob stepped out of the bathroom, wearing the trunks he'd gotten at Wal-Mart, Jennifer was ready to go. She had changed into her new bikini and put a T shirt on over it. He handed her a towel and they headed to the pool area. Jennifer walked straight to the hot tub and dipped her hand in the water. "Mmmmmmm," she said. Then she whipped the T shirt up and over her head. Bob hadn't paid any attention to the two piles of cloth that she'd put on the conveyer belt at Wal-Mart. He'd been getting the credit card he intended to use out of his wallet as the cashier had scanned the items and bagged them. He was therefore unprepared when he saw the bikini on Jennifer's body. It was black and stood out starkly from her untanned skin. It showed a LOT of that skin, even though it was relatively modest by most standards. The bottoms consisted of two triangles that covered front and back, while rising high on each hip, connected only by two bows. The bra covered the front of her breasts, but exposed the sides and all of her cleavage. The bra cups were connected by another bow. Spaghetti straps went around her back and neck to hold the cups in place. As she shook her blond hair, straightening it from being mussed by the T shirt, he gazed at what was most assuredly a very grown up looking Jennifer. He felt his groin tighten and, afraid that his stiffening prick would show in the baggy suit, scrambled into the hot tub rather too quickly. "Ahhhhhh," he groaned as the steaming hot water felt like it burned his skin. Jennifer got in more slowly, bending over to smooth water over her arms and shoulders as she slowly lowered her buttocks into the water. Bob stared helplessly as her hanging breasts wobbled in time with her hand and arm movements. Even the heat of the water didn't keep him from getting fully erect. Jennifer had paid him no attention at all as she eased herself into the water. Once she was in up to her neck, a dreamy smile suffused her face and her eyes closed. She wobbled in the water, and opened her eyes to see Bob leaning back against the wall of the tub, gazing at her. "Feels good," she sighed, without stuttering. She moved toward him and sat next to him, leaning her head back on his arm, which lay on the edge of the tub. Her hip pressed against his and she leaned into his side. "Mmmmmmmm ... soooo good." Bob was fine, as long as he didn't have to stand up. He didn't want to anyway. She was right. This felt really good. The clerk had been right, too. He could already feel the aches and pains oozing out of his muscles. As long as her hand didn't land in his lap, everything was good. ------- Bob jerked awake from a cat nap and realized they'd been in the tub for far too long. He felt weak as he roused Jennifer from her own nap with her head leaning on his chest. He got out of the water and the cool air immediately invigorated him. Jennifer resisted, though, as muscles that suddenly felt like spaghetti made her sag and wobble. "C-c-carry me," she whined. "I don't think so," he said grinning. "C-c-come on," she moaned. He scooped her up and then walked to the edge of the pool. "D-d-don't you d-d-dare!" she moaned. He dared, though, and the splash from her impact hit him, feeling like ice after the heat of the hot tub. Her yell sounded both tortured and outraged. She rose to the surface spluttering. "Y-y-you p-p-prick!" she shouted. "Tsk, tsk," he grinned. "Such language from a genteel young lady such as yourself!" He put a look of shock on his face. Energized by the cold water, Jennifer swam to the side and vaulted up onto the deck. She stood glaring at Bob until she noticed his wide eyes. Then she looked down at her bikini top, where he was staring. The water had dislodged one of the cups, and her left breast was bare. The chilled stark pink nipple stood out strong. "P-p-pervert!" she laughed. "I'm g-g-gonna t-t-tell my d-d-daddy!" She giggled as his mouth dropped open and felt an uncharacteristic heat in her belly as she saw stark appreciation in his eyes, before he covered them with his hand. "Damn, Jen," he groaned. "Don't do that to an old man!" She reached for the cloth between her breasts and tugged it back over the exposed flesh. He turned around, to face away from her. She didn't know it was to hide his suddenly burgeoning prick from her, and just thought he was being gentlemanly or shy. That made her feel wonderful, too. It was her first experience with a man looking at her like a woman, and she was surprised to find how good it felt. She remembered, suddenly, that morning, when he had seen her whole lower half bare. "It's n-n-no big d-d-deal," she said. "Y-y-you saw m-m-my b-b-bottom bare, t-t-too." "It IS a big deal," he said. "You have no idea what that does to a man." "W-w-well it's y-y-your fault anyw-w-way!" she giggled. "Y-y-you're th-th-the one who th-th-threw m-m-me in!" "Oh, come on," he said, sounding disgusted. He returned to the hot tub and picked up two towels that they'd brought with them from the room. He held one over his groin and tossed her the other one. She stared at the towel he was pressing against the front of his suit and understanding hit her like a ton of bricks. He not only saw her as a woman ... he REACTED to her like she was a woman. The flush of triumph in her belly swelled and flowed upwards into her chest. "Well," she said thoughtfully. "Y-y-you're n-n-not just an old m-m-man. Y-y-you're a d-d-DIRTY old m-m-man!" She giggled again. "I k-k-kind of l-l-like it." Bob's eyes suddenly lifted and she felt something like heat from his stern gaze. "Don't tease me," he said, his voice low. "You're a very beautiful woman, Jen. I can't help reacting to that, but let's not do anything to screw up a good relationship, OK?" The intensity of his voice was her first clue that there was some kind of strong emotion going on inside him. This was too new to her. Only recently had she thought of Uncle Bob as a man ... in the sense that men interacted with women on a sexual level. That occurred to her now, as her eyes dropped to the towel. It was obvious why he was covering it and it almost scared her to think of him ... being a man ... with a woman. It seemed foreign to her somehow, like thinking about your parents having sex. It was just disturbing. And he sounded mad! "D-d-don't be m-m-mad," she pleaded. The stern look fell off his face at the anguish in her voice. "I'm not mad, Princess," he said. "It's just that..." He didn't finish. He didn't want to say what was really on his mind. If he did, he'd be telling her he wanted to see ALL of her naked, preferably in bed, ready to be mounted ... by him. No ... that wouldn't be a good thing to tell her at all. "Never mind. Milk under the bridge." He frowned. "I mean spilled water." He threw up his hands as she giggled again. "You know what I mean." She was happy then, and it seemed perfectly normal to skip up to him and slide her arm through his as they walked back to the room. It never occurred to her that the naked side of her breast was pressed warmly against his biceps. She did, however, notice that he kept that towel firmly against the front of his suit. ------- Back in the room Bob went, to the bathroom to change. He took off his suit and then stood, staring into the mirror at his rampant erection. With a sigh, he gave up, gripped his meat and whacked off, again thinking about Jennifer. He aimed his jets of semen into the toilet and milked every possible drop out of his softening cock. He sighed again. At least he wasn't horny right now. Out in the room, as Jennifer took off her bikini and dried off, she wondered what he had been hiding looked like right about now. Had she seen what he was doing she would have died of embarrassment, at least initially. Unknown to her, curiosity would have pushed its way to the forefront and, if she could have watched him secretly, she would have. She went to the backpack and pulled out panties and a bra, still reflecting on the newness of the look on his face when he saw her naked breast. She wondered what he'd do if she was still naked when he came out and shook her head. Why was she thinking about that kind of thing? She'd never done that before. This entire trip had seemed like it was taking place in a whole new world. She slipped on her underthings and then put her jeans back on. She pulled her other new T shirt on and was combing her hair in front of the mirror when Bob opened the door and came out. He stopped suddenly. "Sorry," he said. "I forgot to check to see if you were decent." She turned around to face him. "Uncle B-b-bob?" "Yeah?" He was distracted by looking for a place to hang up his wet suit, which he'd brought out of the bathroom with him. "Y-y-you've always s-s-said I c-c-could talk to y-y-you about an-n-nything." "Sure," he said, deciding to just lay the suit on the counter of the kitchenette in the room. "I've b-b-been f-f-feeling strange th-th-things on th-th-this trip," she got out impatiently. "What kind of things?" he asked, deciding he should have left the suit in the bathroom. Jennifer felt her face heat up and realized she was blushing. How could she explain to him what had been happening? When she didn't say anything, he turned and went back into the bathroom. He returned without the suit and saw her combing her hair almost angrily. "I'm sorry," he said, realizing he had just walked out on her. "What were you saying?" "N-n-nothing," she said tersely. He went to stand behind her and put his hands on her waist. "Come on, Princess. I said I was sorry. I'm listening now." The feel of his fingertips on her waist confused her even more, because it was something so normal and yet it felt so different than it ever had before. "I c-c-can't t-t-tell you," she gasped. She moved forward, away from those disturbing fingers. Bob had never dealt with a difficult teenager. Not really. Some of the men in the SEALs were teenagers, but they weren't difficult. They were the cream of the crop. And throughout her adolescence Jennifer hadn't had the mood swings and tumultuous behavior of most girls. She'd bottled it up inside her, just like she'd bottled up her frustration with her speech impediment, for the most part. Now, though, she was acting like a prickly little bitch, and it took him by surprise. He backed up and sat down on the end of the bed nearest him. Bob was intelligent, though, and he HAD spent a lot of time with this young woman. When she'd said she loved him, it hadn't seemed odd at all. She was a very loving girl and always had been. It was his intelligence that put the pieces together, though. When a woman was acting like she was acting, it usually had something to do with the way a man was treating her. Or at least the way she THOUGHT a man was treating her. Since she was still combing out her hair, he thought about their trip thus far. He had forgotten about the clitty whizzer, and she'd gotten a full dose of it. She'd been a wreck until he got her the pillow to sit on. That suggested she wasn't used to those kinds of feelings. He reminded himself that of COURSE she wasn't used to it. He was sure both that she was a virgin and that she had very little, if any experience with boys. He remembered her telling him forcefully that she wasn't a little girl, after their ordeal at the truck stop. Then he remembered her behavior on the bike for the last hundred and fifty miles. She'd been working that queen seat. He was sure of it. He had assumed she was just doing what came naturally to a woman on the Babe Bike. After all, she'd masturbated intentionally on the bed last night. But there were conflicting signs, too. He thought about her obvious discomfiture when he saw her naked pussy that morning, after she'd been rubbing on his leg in her sleep. That reaction was completely different than when he'd seen her bare breast in the pool. She'd actually flirted with him then ... or at least it had seemed like it. And he'd yelled at her for it. With a flash of insight he realized that she was, for the first time, coming to grips with her sexuality. It HAD to be that. "Jen?" he said softly. He saw her look at him in the mirror. "Did you want to talk about those strange feelings you've been having on the bike? Was that what you wanted to talk about?" He saw her eyes widen and she flushed bright pink. She covered her face with both hands, still holding the comb. "Hey," he said soothingly. "All that's completely normal. You don't have to feel bad about it. I just forgot about the..." He stopped abruptly. He still couldn't confess about the clitty whizzer. She'd never understand that. If she thought he was a dirty old man for staring at her breast, she'd have fits if she found out about the clitty whizzer. "What?" came her voice. She was peeking between her fingers. "Nothing," he said, not noticing that she hadn't stuttered. "You've had a different kind of life as a young woman, that's all. You might be feeling things you've never felt before." She turned around, her eyes even wider. "H-h-how do you KNOW th-th-that?" "Well..." He faltered. He couldn't tell her about the clitty whizzer, and he couldn't tell her he'd seen her rubbing off on the bed last night either. "I've been around." He tried a weak grin. "You know." She slumped. "N-n-no," she said softly. "I d-d-don't know. Th-th-that's the p-p-problem. Th-th-this never ha-ha-ha ... hap-p-pened b-b-before!" Her last words were explosive as she was almost unable to speak at all. Frustration was painted all over her face. "Calm down," he said. "Remember how I told you, you were all grown up?" She nodded and he saw her eyes were wet. "This ... these feelings you have ... they're just part of being grown up. You never got to figure it all out when you were younger, but it's completely normal. I promise." "B-b-but why n-n-now?" she whined. This he thought he might be able to get away with. "Well, it probably has something to do with the bike," he said. "The vibrations ... well when they hit your ... um ... girly parts ... I mean I've seen it happen before. I mean women who have ridden with me kind of told me that it was happening to them." Jennifer brightened immediately. If it happened to other women, then maybe there really WASN'T anything wrong with her. "Really?" she asked hopefully. "Yes. Of course," he said. "That's why I got you the pillow. I remembered that some of them had said that, and you seemed to be ... um ... uncomfortable so ... well, I got you the pillow." Jennifer's mind whirled. He'd KNOWN what was happening to her? All this time he'd KNOWN and she'd been afraid to ask him about it? She suddenly felt silly and girlish. "I th-th-thought there w-w-was s-s-something wrong with m-m-me," she moaned. "No!" he said urgently. "There's nothing wrong with you. It's completely normal to get..." He decided not to use the word he had in mind. "Horny?" she asked, using it for him. Now it was Bob who felt his face get hot. "Yeah," he said. "I-i-it's awful!" she gasped. "No it's not," he insisted. "It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. Everybody gets horny sometimes." "B-b-but all I c-c-can th-th-think of is s-s-s ... SEX!" she gasped, finally getting the word out. Bob wanted to groan, but didn't. She was obviously troubled by all this, his protestations of her normality notwithstanding. "Look, Princess," he said, patting the foot of the bed beside him. She sat down and turned toward him. "Like I said, you never got a chance to work this kind of thing out slowly. Most girls fall in love a dozen or more times while they're growing up. They have feelings for their boyfriend and then they break up and find a new boyfriend. They get to take things slowly and explore what's happening to them a little at a time. But the boys you knew were idiots and you didn't get to do that. So it's all just kind of happening really fast and all at once ... that's all." She looked hopeful so he went on. "So if you're thinking about sex a lot right now ... well, OK, that's fine. Once we get your parents all squared away, and I get you back home, and you don't have the bike messing with you, things will settle down. I'm sure of it." "B-b-but I still w-w-won't have a b-b-boyfriend," she said sadly. "You will one of these days," said Bob. "You're a babe. And sooner or later you'll meet a man who ISN'T an idiot and he'll understand just how special you are and then you'll have to fight him off." "Really?" "I'm sure of it," said Bob, thinking of how HE had seen her, and how HE had felt the urge to mate with her until the cows came home. Any other guy who got to be in that situation would be just as crazed by her innocent sexuality as he was. "Now," said Bob, trying to bring the conversation to a close. He felt his penis acting up again, remembering her nudity and her enthusiasm while she was masturbating in the night. "We need to find that laundromat, and get something to eat. We can make it to where your parents are tomorrow if we start soon enough. I'll stop more often, to give you a break if the pillow isn't working very well." "It w-w-works," she said. "B-b-but I..." She blushed again and covered her face. Bob remembered her leaning back and then leaning forward as they drove. In for a penny ... in for a pound. "You kind of like how it feels?" he guessed. Her hands whipped down from her eyes and her mouth dropped open. He stood up and waved a hand in the air. "Like I said. Don't feel bad. Most women like that feeling. It's perfectly normal. Now, if you put your gym shorts on, we can wash both pairs of your jeans. I'm starving here. How about a pizza tonight?" Jennifer's sense of relief was so strong she almost cried. Uncle Bob ... the man she admired more than anyone but her father, had said there was nothing wrong with her, and that if it felt good it was just fine. She lurched up off the bed and hugged him fiercely. "Th-th-thank you," she moaned into his chest. His strong arms around her shoulders didn't feel either strange or erotic to her. Instead, they just made her feel warm and safe. "My pleasure," he said, patting her back. "Now grab your pillow and let's go find that laundromat!" He swatted her on the butt. She pushed away. "I have t-t-to ch-ch-change," she reminded him. "Y-y-you do, t-t-too." He sighed, found his gym shorts and returned to the bathroom. This time he remembered to ask if she was decent before he went back in the bedroom. "Ready?" he asked. She obviously was, with the backpack slung over one shoulder. "Got your pillow?" She shook her head. "I w-w-won't n-n-need it for th-th-this," she said firmly. ------- Chapter 5 Their laundry was done, and they were well fed. Now, in the motel room, at only eight-thirty, neither was really sleepy. Jennifer turned on the TV and started channel surfing. As happens more often than many would like to admit, Jennifer stopped on a channel only long enough to determine what kind of show was airing. Bob saw three or four programs he would have liked to investigate further, but had no chance to as the screen changed. There were sixty-nine channels. When she started through them again, and she landed on the Discovery Channel, Bob said, "Hold it there." She did, leaving it there for maybe thirty seconds. "It's D-d-discovery," she said, and then pushed the button. "Why do women do that?" complained Bob. "That looked interesting." "'C-c-cause there m-m-might be s-s-something b-b-better on," she said. "How will you know?" asked Bob. "You never stop long enough to actually find out what a show is about." She ignored him. He lay back on the bed and covered his eyes with one arm. The static of the changing sounds was a cadence in his ears, until suddenly there was silence. "Not going to watch anything?" he asked, his eyes still covered. "Wh-wh-what d-d-do you th-th-think this m-m-might b-b-be about?" she stuttered. He uncovered his eyes and lifted his head. The screen was a blue pay per view screen with the words "Bambi Bangs Baltimore" on it. "You don't want to see that," he said. "Wh-wh-why not?" she asked. "It's porn, that's why." "S-s-so?" Bob snorted. "Look, Princess, I'm in enough trouble already if your father finds out I brought you on the Babe Bike and talked to you about sexual feelings. If I let you watch porn he'll kill me for sure. And that's only if your mother doesn't get to me first." "B-b-babe b-b-bike?" He groaned. That part wasn't supposed to come out. Not ever, if possible. "It's just what I call that bike," he tried. "S-s-so why w-w-would Daddy b-b-be m-m-mad about th-th-that?" she asked. "Never mind," said Bob. "No porn. Got it?" "N-N-NOT FAIR!" she wailed. "Y-y-you're t-t-treating m-m-me like a b-b-baby!" "No I'm not," said Bob. "We already had this conversation. You're all grown up. You're feeling grown up stuff, but it's all new and confusing. The last thing you need is to see something inflammatory like porn. It would probably scare you to death!" "W-w-would n-n-not!" she pouted. It was ruined by the stammer, but Bob didn't laugh. He also didn't point out that she sounded like a ten year old. "Do you love me?" he asked. She didn't seem to want to answer, so he asked her another question that she might. "Do you TRUST me?" She nodded twice. "Then take my word for it, sweetie. That movie is not something you'd enjoy. Maybe in a couple of years you might, but not now. Not as you're finding out the first little bits of what sex feels like. OK?" She sniffed, but then clicked away from the pay per view channel. She finally settled on an old movie in black and white which Bob wasn't really interested in. He put a pillow under his head and then used his old SEAL training to clear his mind and find sleep. ------- Bob woke to the soft sound of rhythmic whining. He recognized it instantly as the sound of a woman having a theatrical orgasm. It had that fake sound to it that was too regular and too repetitive, used the world over by actresses in the porn industry. He opened his eyes to a blue-white flickering light that told him the sound was coming from the TV. The volume had been reduced to almost nothing. Jennifer was sitting on the floor, Indian style, leaning forward, her face only a foot from the screen. He could only see about half of the screen because her body blocked the rest of it. He saw her head turning toward him and he closed his eyes to slits. The rest of the screen was revealed as she turned, showing a woman on all fours, with a man pounding into her from behind. Her moans weren't even in time with his thrusts. "Damn, Bambi, you're the best I've ever had," said a male voice listlessly. "Don't stop, Mr. Blakely," was the female reply. "I've never done this before, but I LIKE it!" Jennifer, after making sure Bob hadn't moved, turned back around and leaned forward again, just in time to see a close-up from behind and below, showing a mostly rigid penis sawing in and out of a possibly damp pussy. The balls swung with each thrust, but looked kind of wimpy in their sack, to Bob. He thought about sitting up and scaring the crap out of Jennifer. She'd obviously decided not to obey him. He saw her elbow move and had to lift his head to see over the end of the bed. Her right hand was busy inside those gym shorts he'd bought her. Just then the screen started flipping back and forth between Bambi's face, which looked like she might be on a steep first drop of a rollercoaster ride, and Mr. Blakely's face, which looked a little like someone might be dribbling boiling oil all over his back. Then the camera went to the traditional scene of the penis being pulled from the vagina and masturbated to completion on her back. Jennifer leaned back, possibly in shock, as white splatters landed all over the woman's back. The former "virgin" promptly reached back to smear it all over herself, as if she instinctively knew that would feel wonderful or some such thing. Jennifer's hand had stopped moving when she saw cum being spurted for the first time. Now, as the scene changed to show Bambi sauntering up to a storefront, she slumped. Bob watched Jennifer watch Bambi say she was applying for a modeling job. Then, of course, she was introduced to the agent, who promptly proceeded to audition her by having her suck his cock. Bambi made the requisite complaints that she'd never done this before, and had never heard of this being part of an audition, but then attacked the prick hanging out of the man's pants like a pro. Jennifer's hand got busy again and she let out a little whimper as Bambi deep throated the agent. When the man started undressing both himself and the applicant, Bob decided she'd seen enough. Explosively he sat up and bounced, releasing a war cry that they probably heard two rooms over. Jennifer actually vibrated, her whole body shaking as if she was operating a jack hammer. She screamed satisfyingly loud and fell over onto her side, huddling into a fetal position. Bob reached past her and punched the off button on the TV set. The room went dark and silent, except for Jennifer's blubbering. "Go to bed," he said firmly. "I c-c-can't!" she sobbed. "You s-s-scared m-m-me! I p-p-peed my p-p-pants!" Bob wanted to laugh, but he knew it was the wrong thing to do just then. Maybe later, a few years from now, they could laugh about it together, but not now. "Then go change them and go to bed," he said. "Ok-k-kay," she sniffled. She got up, bumped into the bed and then reached the bathroom. She turned on the bathroom light and used it to find the backpack. It got dark again when she closed the door. She stayed in the bathroom a long time. Bob used the time to strip down to his briefs and actually get into bed. He was about to get up to go knock when the light under the door went out and he heard it open. He heard the backpack thump to the floor and Jennifer pulling down the covers of her bed. It got quiet and he listened for her breathing, to try to gauge her emotional state. "D-d-do y-y-you hate m-m-me?" she asked softly. He didn't even pretend to have gone back to sleep. "Of course not," he said. "C-c-can I ha-a-ave a h-h-hug?" He thought about the fact that all he had on was underwear. "Not now," he said. She started sniffling then. She sounded like she'd lost her last friend in the whole world. "I'm not mad at you, Princess. The reason you have to wait for the hug is because all I have on right now is underwear," he explained. "I d-d-don't c-c-care," she whimpered. "Jennifer, I'm not mad at you, OK?" "P-p-please?" she moaned. Bob groaned. "OK, one hug, but then you have to go right back to bed and go to sleep." The covers whooshed as she threw them off and he heard her feet hit the floor between the two beds. He expected her to just lie down on top of the bedspread covering him, but she got under it instead, wiggling over to lie down on his left arm and press her body up against him. He felt her bare legs as they bumped up against his, and the undeniable softness and heat of her breasts pressing into his naked side made it clear that she wasn't wearing a bra under her T shirt. Her right arm wiggled and forced its way under him and she crushed herself to him. "I'm s-s-sorry," she whined into his chest. Her hair tickled and he felt her lips move against his skin as she spoke. "It's not that big of a deal, honey," he said, stroking her back. "I j-j-just w-w-wanted to s-s-see what i-i-it was l-l-like," she said, moving her lips on his flesh again. "I know," he sighed. "You're as stubborn as your mother." "M-m-mommy's n-n-not stub-b-born," she said. "Well you are." "I m-m-miss her." That turned into more sobs and Bob practically HAD to hold her and comfort her. "You'll get to see her tomorrow," he assured her. "You can even tell her I said she was stubborn, OK?" He could actually FEEL her relax in his arms as the tension left her body. He let her enjoy that for a few minutes before trying to make her get up and go back to her own bed. "OK," he said softly. "Now back to bed." She didn't answer. She was like a dead weight on his arm, and the arm she had thrown over him was limp. "Jen?" No answer. "Jennifer?" He recognized the little wiggle she did, snuggling against him, as being the product of a voice disturbing her sleep. He sighed. He wondered why shit like this had to happen to him. He was reflecting on how good she felt in his arms as his own senses dulled and, like the girl in those arms, he nodded off. ------- Jennifer was having a most delightful dream when it began to be pulled away from her. She knew she was waking up, but tried to resist, calling the dream back. It vanished, though, and she opened her eyes. She was confused immediately. One reason was because it was still dark. Another was that she was in bed with someone. Who that was popped into her mind immediately. She breathed in his scent. The dream she'd been having was stark in her mind. She had been on all fours, naked, like the woman in the Bambi movie. There had been a man behind her, just like in the movie, too. But what she'd been feeling was the seat of the motorcycle vibrating her clitty. She knew all about clitties now, after watching Mr ... what was his name? ... that man in the movie, brushing his tongue all over Bambi's clitty. In her dream, before being on all fours, she had been spread wide, like Bambi, but it had been Brad Pitt whose eyes were looking up at her as his tongue lashed her excited bud. That had felt like it did when her fingers mashed and pushed the slippery little bump around. Then he had turned her over and she'd felt his skin push against her bottom and the vibrations had begun. She could tell she was damp down there, like when she rubbed. A groan came suddenly from the throat right beside her forehead. "Jennn," came moaning out of Uncle Bob's mouth. She lifted her head, staring at his face. His eyes were closed. His head moved to one side and then back. She could see the eyes beneath his closed lids flickering back and forth. From her studies she knew he was experiencing REM sleep. It was during REM sleep that the most vivid dreams occurred. Uncle Bob was dreaming. Her heart thudded as she reflected on how her name had come from his mouth. Was he dreaming about her? Heat filled her chest as she wondered if HIS dream was anything like HER dream. She'd been so scared when he'd yelled like that. He'd sounded so ... so ... crazy! And the warm flow of urine soaking her panties and shorts had just happened! She'd had no chance to stop it. She knew that was her fault. She'd had to pee, but couldn't tear herself away from the fascinating things she'd seen on the TV screen. She hadn't been able to believe that a man's penis could get that big. And then she was astonished that it had fit so easily into Bambi's pussy. She was aware of the mechanics of sex, of course, but she hadn't thought it would look like that. She'd gotten turned on and was trying to have an orgasm so she could turn the TV off and go to the bathroom. Then Bob had screamed like that and scared her half to death. She had known he would be mad at her if he caught her. But she hadn't been able to resist. And when he DID catch her, and she peed her pants like a little girl, she had instant visions of him taking her home, instead of on to see her parents—washing his hands of her because she couldn't be trusted. The hug had healed everything. She had been so relieved that she almost cried again. She realized that she'd fallen asleep next to him, in that embrace. He hadn't made her get up and go back to her own bed. His arms were still around her. And he was calling her name in his sleep while he dreamed. She felt the insane urge to diddle her clitty. Her heart felt like it was going to pound a hole in her chest. She was sure he'd wake up because of that pounding. He HAD to feel it in his ribs. He groaned again ... just a noise ... not a word ... not her name again. Her hand was lying on his chest and she moved it, stroking his bare skin, trying to soothe him in his sleep. She became aware of her bare legs against his. His skin felt hot. She suddenly remembered that, under her T shirt, she was naked. She hadn't put on panties after wetting her last pair. She hadn't planned on getting into bed with Bob. She hadn't planned on sleeping next to him all night. While she hadn't planned any of this, she realized that she loved this feeling. She loved being against him. She loved smelling him. She looked down at his bare chest and the insane urge to lick his skin washed over her in a wave so strong that her tongue was out and her head was dipping before she could stop herself. Her tongue was only a centimeter from his skin when she forced herself to stop. She closed her mouth and raised her head again. She stared at his face. It was slack now, the only suggestion of life being that movement under his eyelids. It felt like her heart was swelling up and her lungs inflated along with it until she couldn't get any more air in them. She let it out slowly, thinking about how Bob had always been so good to her. He never made fun of her. He was always patient with her. He bought her presents. He treated her like she was all grown up. He even dreamed of her. "I love you," she whispered, so softly that even she couldn't hear it. The concept seemed both mundane, because she had always loved him, and astonishing, because suddenly it was a love that threatened to blast her into little tiny bits. Her voice when she spoke again was louder. "I really love you." She laid her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She concentrated entirely on the feeling of loving someone like she had never loved anyone before. This was different than the way she loved her parents. It COMPETED with the way she loved her parents, which amazed her, because they were the most important people in her life. But it wasn't disturbing that she loved Bob now just as much, if not more, than her parents. It just made her feel warm and safe. Eventually she drifted back to sleep. Not once did it occur to her that in her last two whispered sentences ... she had not stuttered once. ------- Morning came quietly, except for the slam of a door as some faceless traveler left his or her room to resume a trip interrupted by the need for rest. Bob's consciousness recognized the sound as it woke him. As usual, he was almost fully alert as soon as his brain gave up sleep, and other things registered in his mind quickly. He judged it to be eight or so, based on the light coming through the cracks in the drapes covering the windows. Those drapes were thinner than they looked, and the room was well lit. He was surprised he'd slept so late. It was warm in the bed, warmer than usual, which was the product of there being another body in bed with him. He remembered falling asleep without making Jennifer go back to her own bed and knew who he was in bed with. He was erect, which was normal, his prick lying stiffly on his abdomen, the head pointed at him as if to look at him, patiently waiting for him to notice the one-eyed stare. The weight resting on top of his prick was different, though. His senses supplied information that explained it. Her arm was lying across his side and hip, which meant the weight holding his penis down was being supplied by her hand. He listened to her breathing and felt relief when it told him she was still firmly asleep. Things had been weird enough without her consciously fondling his cock. He was faced with a decision as to how to disarm this little unplanned situation. He could reach to move her hand, probably up onto his belly, but that might wake her. If her waking brain recognized what was happening she would know only that his hand was moving hers. There was potential for misunderstanding there. He chose instead to just flip onto his side, toward her, which dislodged her hand. Then he rolled away from her and out from under the covers, twisting to land on his feet. His penis tried to lean forward, now held upward by both its stiffness and his briefs. Jennifer, who had been lying half on top of him, now rolled awkwardly onto her face and then woke to push herself back onto her side. She lifted a head crowned with mussed hair and looked around blearily. "Time to get up and on the road, Princess," he said in that happy, perky morning voice that most people loath hearing so soon after waking. He saw her blink and then watched her eyes drop to his underwear. He cursed silently as she got WAY more awake VERY quickly. He should have taken care of things before he spoke. It was too late now, though, so he just hurried to the bathroom. Then, after his bladder had been dealt with and he was ready to go back out, he cursed again as he realized that, once again, he hadn't brought any clothes with him into the bathroom. Again, there was nothing he could do about it, so he tried to pretend it was completely normal to walk around in front of her in only his shorts and went back out. He came to a grinding halt almost immediately. She had sat up and was in the process of swinging her legs over to sit on the edge of the bed. One hand was on the edge of the mattress beside her. The other was trying to tug the bottom of the T shirt she was wearing out from under her butt and back down to cover one of the prettiest pussies Bob had ever laid eyes on. Before, when he'd had one quick glimpse of matted white hair, both of them had realized she was exposed. Both had reacted and it had been over quickly. Now, though, she was looking down, unaware either that he had entered the room or that she was giving him an unobstructed view of her feminine center. Her left leg was already in place, that foot on the floor. The right was up, swinging to join the left, but not yet there. As a result, her pink lips were on full display as Bob stared at them below that fluff of almost white hair. His cock had gone soft as he pissed and had been put away in his briefs in its normal head down position. It now tried to raise its head to get a look at what Bob's eyes were seeing. The right leg completed its journey, framing her young pussy between firm white thighs. Tugging at the hem of the shirt wasn't working so she just stood up, letting gravity solve the problem. Her eyes came up and he heard her quick intake of breath as she realized he was in the room. Her eyes went first to his, which were looking at what her T shirt had just covered, as if to will the shirt to rise again and uncover the treasure he'd just glimpsed. Then, as his eyes began to come up to her face, hers went down to look again at what she'd seen only moments before. He looked completely different now, to Jennifer. What had been a long thick line was now a pointy lump, protruding from the bottom of the white fabric. When she'd seen the thick line, her brain had supplied the memory of the erect penis she'd seen on the pay per view movie. Now her brain searched for some other image of a penis, and what she thought about was when the agent had exposed himself to Bambi by opening his zipper, before he was erect. Bambi had solved that problem and, unconsciously, Jennifer licked her lips as she stared at the lump that was Uncle Bob's penis. Then her brain caught up with events and she realized he'd been standing there as she moved to a sitting position. Moreover her brain reminded her gently, "HE JUST SAW YOUR NAKED PUSSY!" What astonished her was that she wasn't horrified at all. Her eyes bounced back up to his face. His mouth was hanging open and his face was blotched with spots of darkness which, she knew, would appear red if the light was better. One of his feet was forward, as if he'd been walking and then was suddenly frozen stiff. It was obvious to her that what had frozen him was the sight of her. It struck her as funny, somehow, that this big, strong ox of a man, who she'd thought of as being so dangerous looking in a completely harmless way, could become so helpless just from seeing her most private place. She didn't laugh, though. Instead, she felt, for the first time, the power that women have over men. It made her almost giddy. "I'm SORRY!" gasped Bob, finally able to react. She didn't know what to say. What her mind whispered was, "I'm not," but she didn't give voice to that. Instead, she simply stood up and, on the way past him to use the bathroom herself, just kissed him on the cheek and said, "G-g-good morning." ------- Chapter 6 Bob wasn't used to things being muddy or vague. Most of his adult life had been spent in an environment where things were pretty much black or white. Someone was the enemy ... or he wasn't. If he was the enemy, you killed him. If he wasn't, you watched him to make SURE he wasn't. A task either needed doing or it didn't. Women were either candidates for bed games or they weren't. Jennifer was suddenly very vague indeed. She was blossoming, sexually. That much was clear. Even if it was unintended, it was happening, and the purely male part of his mind put her in the bed game category. But she was his best friend's daughter, his "niece" for all intents and purposes, which meant she wasn't fair game and should never have had that pretty pussy of hers pressed against the clitty whizzer. She was innocent ... pure as the driven snow. He was sure of that. And yet her innocence was undeniably beginning to fray a bit around the edges. She'd watched that porn, even though he'd told her not to. She'd intentionally masturbated — on the bed, in front of the TV and on the Babe Bike. He suddenly wondered now if her hand on his morning wood HAD been accidental. She DID know he'd seen her naked loins two mornings ago, and she just about HAD to know that she'd exposed herself to him just a few minutes past. He'd seen emotions ripple across her face as she realized he was in the room and had obviously seen her sex. The trouble was he couldn't tell what those emotions were. She'd been obviously embarrassed the first time. Now, this second and much more intimate view had resulted only in a casual kiss on the cheek and what sounded to his ears like a sultry greeting. How many women had gotten out of his bed in the morning and said exactly the same thing, in exactly the same tone of voice? He heard the toilet flush and was startled to find that he hadn't moved. He was still standing in the middle of the bedroom in his jockeys. He almost jumped toward the backpack and hastily pulled out clothing. He had his jeans on and was pulling a shirt over his head when she came back into the room. He suddenly had no idea what to say to her. "Hungry?" was what came out of his mouth. "Mm-hmm," she responded. "D-d-don't l-l-look while I g-g-get d-d-dressed." "Sure," he said. He went to the door and flipped a switch, which turned on the two lamps above the beds. Then, moving sideways and facing away from her, he went to the end of his bed to sit and put socks on. His eyes lifted to the big flat screen of the TV on the credenza and he felt almost guilty as he looked for her reflection in the dark glass. She was standing behind him, hopping up and down as she wiggled into her jeans. He watched the reflection of her naked breasts bounce up and down and cursed himself for being a dirty old man. Then he cursed himself for not closing his eyes. Then he gave up and watched shamelessly, admiring her youthful curves and the pristine, innocent sexuality of a young woman who was not trying to be sexual at all, but just couldn't help it. He almost sighed as she dropped a T shirt down over her body and wondered idly why she hadn't put on a bra. Jennifer's thought processes weren't quite so complicated. As she tugged jeans that were getting too small over her hips, the only thought she gave to the fact that she'd slept, almost naked, with a man, all night, was the fact that she had liked doing it. She'd liked it a lot and she hoped she got to do it again very soon. She then reflected on the fact that Bob had seen her in a very intimate way, and that it had made her feel good. That seemed crazy, somehow, because she'd never even THOUGHT about exposing her nakedness to a man. And yet she couldn't deny that she'd not only felt no embarrassment ... she'd liked that, too. That made her think of what it might be like if some other man saw her that way and that thought left her cold. She wasn't interested in just any man seeing her — only Bob. And THAT reminded her of the words she'd whispered in the night. She pulled her shirt over her head and began raking fingers through her hair to get the big tangles out. She knew something had changed about the way she thought about Bob, but she couldn't quite understand what that was. She'd always loved him, but it felt so completely different now. Her fingers stopped combing her hair and she looked at Bob, who was sitting rigidly at the end of the bed. He had one ankle sitting on top of the other knee, but the sock that was supposed to go on his bare foot was just hanging from his hand. He was frozen again ... not looking at her, as she'd asked him to do. And THAT was odd too, because she'd only told him not to look because that's what she was SUPPOSED to do ... not because she'd be embarrassed if he saw her naked. She suddenly felt hot at the thought of him seeing her naked. He was still rigid and she was reminded of a game they'd played when she was a little girl, where he'd chase her, threatening to tickle her. She could freeze him by yelling, "RED LIGHT," though of course it came out "R-R-RED L-L-LIGHT!" and then thaw him, when she was far enough away by calling the light green. She had loved the terror of almost being caught by the big man, but having the magical ability to avoid it just by telling him to stop. Of course he had the same magic when she was chasing him, which was a little frustrating, but she'd still loved the game. She spoke impulsively. "Ok-k-kay, g-g-green l-l-light." His head tilted first, and his shoulders fell from their rigid position. He began putting the sock on. She watched him do that and then pull his boots on. That warm ball in her belly flared as he stood and stretched and she saw muscles moving under his shirt. She went to him and slid her arms around to feel those muscles as she hugged him tightly. "Th-th-thank you," she said softly. "What for?" came his deep voice. "Ev-v-verything," she said. "I thought you were hungry," he said, his voice sounding strained as he felt her soft breasts pressing against his chest. "I am," she said, pushing him away. "W-w-we n-n-need to hur-r-ry. I w-w-wan't to s-s-see my p-p-parents!" Bob shook his head. She was such a puzzle to him, suddenly. So grown up one minute, and so much a girl the next. ------- Breakfast was completely uneventful, almost a polar opposite from the last time they'd faced each other in a booth. No one looked at them oddly. When she pointed to the menu item she wanted, and said "T-t-toast," the waitress simply wrote it down on her pad. People went to and fro without seeming to notice them at all. Thirty minutes later they were putting on helmets and fastening backpacks to the bike. Jennifer climbed onto the bike first, feeling the lean of the bike as it rested on the kick stand. She stood awkwardly on the foot pegs and tried to adjust the pillow the way she wanted it. She was looking forward to the ride now, and not just because she'd get to see her parents. It was difficult to do what she wanted, though, because the bike leaned too much. "Hang on a sec," said Bob. He swung his leg across his saddle and stood the bike up. She overbalanced and he compensated automatically, pushing with his right leg to stabilize the machine. She sat on the pillow and then leaned forward to test it. It wasn't quite right and she stood again, one hand on his shoulder, to move the pillow a little. He turned the key and the big motor rumbled to life as she sat back down. She leaned forward and felt the luscious zings she now wanted to feel. She leaned back, just to make sure she could get away from the stimulation if she wanted to, and then leaned forward again to snake her hands around his waist. Her hands landed on his belt buckle and she squeezed him. He turned his head. "Ready?" he called over the noise of the motor. She squeezed again. She was VERY ready. ------- It never occurred to Jennifer to count her orgasms. She just had one when she wanted to, and then leaned back to rest until she was ready to have another one. Bob, however, was paying much more attention. She had fiddled with that pillow much more than would be necessary to just sit on it. And, as she leaned forwards and back, his suspicions about what she'd been doing the day before were confirmed. He almost laughed as he realized she was working the bike, instead of the bike working her. Her response wasn't quite as transparent today as it had been in the past. He could tell when she got off, because there was a tightening of her arms and her fingers pressed through his shirt, but it wasn't quite so obvious. By the sixth time she squeezed him, he was painfully erect in his pants, and couldn't do a thing about it. In the next fifty miles she squeezed him that way sixteen times. When he stopped for gas, she just leaned back, shifting to the right a little to adjust for the tilt of the bike, laid the back of her helmet on top of the sissy bar and just closed her eyes and smiled. Bob would never understand why he said it, but it just came out of his mouth. "You know ... it's probably possible to overdo that." Her eyelids flicked up and her head fell forward. Blue eyes framed by the helmet gave him a smoky look he'd DEFINITELY seen in other women's eyes, but which shocked him to the core, coming from this pair. She didn't blush or avert her eyes. "Nope," she said simply. THEN her eyes cleared and her cheeks went pink. She leaned forward to put her hands on the king seat and got off the bike. NOW her eyes were averted, as she turned ninety degrees away from him. "I'll b-b-be r-r-right b-b-back," she gasped and then practically ran to the front doors of the convenience store. ------- Sitting in the stall, Jennifer didn't know whether to feel excited or embarrassed ... guilty or worried. Conflicting thoughts tried to claim her consciousness. The closer they got to her parents, the more she worried, not knowing what she'd find when they got there. But there wasn't anything she could do about that and it had been easy to let the delicious feelings push all that away as they sped down the road. She could actually feel each orgasm building now, and could adjust the pressure of her pussy against the seat of the bike to bring it quickly, or revel in the anticipation. It was exciting to be able to control the feelings, but she felt like she should be thinking more about her parents, instead of ... what she was thinking about. Uncle Bob knew what she was doing! That had been clear in that cryptic comment he'd made. She flushed again at the instantaneous understanding that had come to her when his words had sunk in, and the comment that had popped out of her mouth. She almost groaned. He was waiting for her. The bike was waiting for her. Her parents were waiting for her. She had to go, even if she had to face Bob, knowing that he knew what she'd been doing. On the way out, she was determined to put the pillow where it would prevent her from using the bike like she had been. ------- The next hundred miles were torture for the girl. The pillow worked flawlessly. But then all she COULD think about was her parents, lying in hospital beds, horribly injured. A dark thought kept trying to push its way into her brain. What if they had died? She cried silently, letting the wind of their passage deal with the tears as she clung to Bob for strength. By the time they stopped for gas again she felt almost sick at her stomach. "Only another forty-five minutes or so," said Bob, getting off the bike to lean back and stretch his back muscles. He'd noticed the difference in his rider on this leg. Her hands had lain limply across his stomach, her head against his back most of the time. He stood up and got a good look at her face. Her eyes were red and she'd been crying. "What's wrong, baby," he asked, concerned. "Wh-wh-what if th-th-they're d-d-dead?" She sobbed suddenly and he moved to embrace her. It was awkward with her still sitting on the bike and him standing beside it. "They're not," he said into the side of her helmet, hoping he was right. "B-b-but what i-i-if th-th-they are?" she whined. He pulled back. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and he worked the catch to release the helmet strap. She helped him pull it off and he cupped her chin. "Jennifer," he said calmly. "Your father is tougher than nails. He wouldn't even think about leaving your mother and you. If he saw the grim reaper in person he'd just kick the ghoul's ass. And your mother ... well ... you know how she loves to lord it over Don. There's no way she'd let herself die as long as she knew there was going to be a chance to wrap him around her little finger like she loves to do." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and then used his thumbs to wipe her tears away. "We'll be there in less than an hour. You'll see them. Just try to keep from yelling at them for worrying you like this, OK?" He got a wan smile and hugged her again. This time he could smell her hair and he kissed it. "I love you," she sighed. Neither of them noticed that she didn't stutter, especially when she followed it with "C-c-can w-w-we please h-h-hurry?" Bob got gas and mounted the bike again. He goosed the throttle as he turned onto the road again and let the G's press them both back as he shifted smoothly through the gears. His speech had given her hope again, and the speed was enough to jolt Jennifer out of her funk. She knew it would come back, though. In truth, she only jerked the pillow out from under her as a distraction. She stuffed it between her back and the sissy bar and then leaned forward to hug the man who was a rock of stability in the storm she was being blown around by. She almost sobbed as the overwhelming sensations began to pummel her immediately. Flashes of guilt whipped through her mind, along with apologies to her parents for shutting them out for a while. Then she just let the feelings wash over her in an unending wave. She thought this must be what it was like to breathe under water, while waves and currents pulled and tugged and beat at you. But she didn't care. Instead, she closed her eyes and welcomed the mindlessness of one orgasm after another. ------- Bob followed the blue signs to the hospital. He pulled into the visitor's parking lot, selected a spot and killed the engine. The sudden silence seemed louder than the motor had. Jennifer had been gripping his chest with ferocious strength for half an hour. Her arms were still locked around him tightly, as if they were still riding. He turned his head. "Hey. We're here." Her arms fell limp, but she still lay against his back. In the quiet surroundings he heard her panting. "You OK?" She leaned back and he got off the bike. Her arms were hanging limp at her sides, her head back and her eyes closed, like they had been before. His eyes flicked to her crotch and saw there was no pillow. Then he saw the edge of it sticking out from behind her butt. She started to list sideways and he caught her shoulders to keep her from falling off the bike. "Why don't you listen to me?" he growled. "Didn't I tell you you could overdo that?" She opened her eyes and blinked. "I'm ok-k-kay," she said. She was too weak to expend any energy on being embarrassed. "It w-w-worked." "What worked?" "I d-d-didn't think ab-b-bout my p-p-parents." "Well you need to think about them now, because we're going to see them in a minute." That brought energy surging into her body, possibly from adrenaline, but it didn't matter. She suddenly had strength in her limbs again and she stood, putting a hand on Bob's shoulder so she could dismount the bike. Her hands went to her chin strap and she started walking quickly toward the hospital entrance. When the helmet came off, her fast walk became a jog, and then a run. She was waiting for him at the front doors of the hospital, holding one open, dancing from foot to foot, when he got there. "C-c-come ON!" she yelled at him. ------- Don Brazelton opened his eyes when he heard the swish of clothing as someone came into the room. He'd never been a patient man. The Navy had tested him almost constantly with its hurry up and wait processes. The times he remembered as best were those times when he'd been in mortal danger, because then he and his SEAL brothers could do whatever was needed and patience be damned. He'd been hazily conscious for four hours now, according to the clock on the wall. He couldn't move, because his right leg was swathed in bandages and immobilized. He knew there was something badly wrong with his ribs, too. Even with the morphine drip in his IV, he could feel the pain when the tube stuck down his throat inflated his lungs. The nurses were kind and sympathetic, but he couldn't speak to ask them about Susan, or tell them that he wished they'd just knock him out until the ventilator wasn't needed. He couldn't do anything but lie there, trying to go to sleep. He couldn't sleep, because he had no idea if Susan had made it through the violence of the accident, which he could clearly remember. He heard a sobbing sound and turned his head to see the slightly fuzzy image of his little girl, standing there looking horrified. She was dressed in a black leather jacket and he watched as the black motorcycle helmet in her hand fell from limp fingers and bounced on the floor. Just behind her was another face he knew well, looking sternly grim. Jennifer looked petrified, but a voice Don had badly wanted to hear spoke past her. "Susan's going to make it," the voice said softly. "You're both going to make it." Don tried to smile. He knew that voice. It was the same voice that had said Don was going to make it, once upon a time, long ago, when he had been in even more pain than he was in now, with bullets in his body. Snake was here. Everything would be all right now. If Snake was here ... he could relax. He lifted one hand a few inches off the bed ... as much as he could manage right now. Then he quit fighting the drugs and let them claim him. Everything faded to black as a sweet voice, sighing "Oh Daddy," made his heart soar. ------- "We need to get a motel room somewhere," said Bob. "Y-y-you g-g-go on," she said. She was holding her mother's hand. "There's nothing you can do here," he said gently. "We just have to wait." They had initially been denied entry into ICU, where both patients were recuperating from their original injuries and operations they'd had to repair the effects of the crash. Jennifer had broken down and Bob had run interference with the nurse supervisor, asking only that Jennifer be allowed to see them long enough to convince herself that they were alive. "Y-y-you g-g-go on," she said again. He sighed. "OK, I'll be back later to get you." "Ok-k-kay." He left the room and distracted the nervous nurse by asking for information about what had been done and what the prognosis for both patients was. He learned that Don's breathing tube would probably be removed the next day. Susan's operation had gone well, but they were keeping her in a coma because of the pain. It was anticipated that in two or three days she could be awakened, at which time regular pain medications would be substituted. It was unclear whether she'd be able to walk in the future. Don's surgery was much simpler. His shattered femur had been replaced with a metal one and pins had been used to put his radius and ulna back together. His recovery would take months, but there was no reason he wouldn't be able to resume his normal life eventually. ------- There was a Best Western about a mile from the hospital. Bob didn't care about the expense. They were likely to have to stay several days, and he wanted someplace comfortable. In light of everything that had happened recently, he got two rooms for five nights with the understanding that they might check out early. There was a door in the wall between the rooms that could be unlocked, if desired. He dumped the backpacks and then made a run to the local Super Center to get snack foods, some thermal mugs and something to drink. He didn't know how much time they'd be spending in the rooms. They'd probably either be there or at the hospital, though, so they might as well have something to nibble on when they were actually in the motel. He called the shop and talked to Brad, telling him he was going to be gone longer than expected. Brad said everything was fine and that they'd keep things running as long as necessary. He'd been gone three hours by the time he got back to the hospital. Jennifer was still in her mother's room, though she was sitting in a chair beside the bed, instead of standing. She was reading from a magazine. Jennifer, like many people who stutter, was capable of reading something aloud without sounding any different than any other person would. When she read, she didn't stutter, unless there were unfamiliar words in the text she was reading. Bob stood and listened as she read an article about how the latest Dodge Ram had been selected by J.D. Power and Associates as the best truck in a road test. Apparently it was the only magazine she'd been able to find. He must have made a noise, because she turned her head. She smiled. "Th-th-they said s-s-she m-m-might be ab-b-ble to h-h-hear me." Bob walked over to Susan's bed and bent over to speak softly into her ear. "I'm taking care of Jen. You're going to pull through fine and so is Don. You just concentrate on healing. Everything is under control." He leaned back and looked at Jennifer, who was looking at him. "Y-y-you think sh-sh-she heard y-y-you?" asked the girl. "Probably," said Bob. "I shouldn't have said anything. Now she's probably all worried about you." "Why?" asked the girl, her voice surprised. "Because I told her I was taking care of you." He grinned. If he expected her to smile, he was disappointed, because she didn't smile at all. Instead she pushed him toward the door. "G-g-go on," she said. "I'll b-b-be there i-i-in a m-m-minute." Bob left the room and went to the nurse's station, which had a view into all the glass-walled rooms that the seriously ill were in. He approached a square-shouldered woman in her mid to late forties, whose hair was graying. "Thanks for letting us see them," he said to the nurse supervisor. "We shouldn't have," said the woman, her gaze level with that of the big black-bearded man. She glanced past him to the room. "But I know how important it was to her." "It was important to me, too," said Bob. The woman looked back at him. "You're not really his half brother, are you." It was a statement, rather than a question. "Why would you say that?" asked Bob calmly. She looked him up and down. "Because there's no way in the world that you two share a parent," she said. Bob smiled. "We were on the same SEAL team in the Navy. We're closer than blood brothers. I saved his life once, and he saved mine twice. I couldn't just let him go untreated." The woman frowned and picked up a chart. She flipped through a few pages and ran her finger down a row of numbers before looking back at Bob. "His vitals improved as soon as you two got here," she said. "They've been improving ever since. But if the wrong people catch you in ICU like this, I'll swear you barged in and wouldn't leave." "And I'll apologize for barging in and refusing to leave," said Bob calmly. "Just get them well." "It's not really in my hands at this point," said the woman. "It's up to them and God." Jennifer came out of her mother's room, putting on her jacket. She had to transfer the helmet from one hand to the other to get it on. She walked up to Bob and leaned her head on his shoulder. Bob looked at the nurse. "There are papers she needs to sign." "Already done," said the nurse. "Let me give you my cell number," said Bob. "Already have Jennifer's," said the woman, looking slightly impatient. "Got yours from her phone, too. Now go on, before you infect somebody." "C-c-can I c-c-come back tom-m-mor-r-row?" Jennifer labored. "Not until after noon. With any luck they'll be out of ICU by then." "Ok-k-kay," sighed Jennifer. She moved suddenly and hugged the nurse, who looked startled first, and then slightly embarrassed, before her face calmed and she gave Jennifer a quick hug in return. Then she pushed the girl away and shooed them out of the ward. ------- Chapter 7 Dinner was Italian. They were not dressed like the other customers in the upscale bistro, but neither cared. They were put in a booth right by the kitchen door, but didn't care about that either. There was little talk while they ate. Bob told her what he'd learned about her parents' treatment. She was subdued. When they got to the rooms, her listlessness evaporated like magic when she realized he'd gotten her her own room. "I'm n-n-not stay-y-ying in h-h-here al-l-lone!" she said loudly. "It's for the best, baby," he pleaded. "W-w-why?" she almost shouted. Bob groaned. He knew this girl and he knew how stubborn she could be when she got fired up. He didn't need her getting fired up, but he also didn't need anything else to happen between them. "Look, sweetie, I love you. You know that. So I just want you to trust me when I tell you it's better if we're not staying in the same room. I mean you need your privacy sometimes, and I keep forgetting to tell you when I'm coming out of the bathroom and stuff like that. And I'll be right next door to you if you need me, or want to talk or something. Please give it a try. I'm sure it will be more comfortable for both of us." ------- Jennifer lay in bed, staring at the TV set. She wasn't interested in anything that was on. She wasn't quite so worried about her parents anymore. They looked horrible, but they were breathing and everybody seemed to think they'd be all right. She knew it would take a long time for them to get better, and that she'd have to help a lot, but she didn't care about that. They were alive and they'd be OK. Her mind was currently working furiously on something else anyway. At first she'd been hurt that Bob wouldn't let her stay in his room. It was tempting to think that he didn't want to be around her, but she knew that wasn't true. She knew he loved her. That was the problem. She loved him, too, and she wanted to be around him. So why was he acting this way? She didn't buy all that privacy crap. Sure there had been a few accidents, where he saw things he wasn't supposed to see. Except that she didn't really care if he saw them. That gave her pause for thought too. She was quite sure that if any OTHER man had seen between her legs like that, that she would have been mortified. But she wasn't ... when it was Bob. She was sure that was because she loved him so much. She was also sure he'd liked seeing her like that. She'd seen it in his face. She might not have much experience with men, but the look on his face that morning had spoken volumes. So why was he making her stay in her own room? She looked at the door in the wall. Bob was on the other side of it. It didn't have a slot for her card. It took a regular key to open it. He'd said she could still talk to him if she needed to, but he hadn't unlocked that door. She couldn't understand why he'd put that barrier between them. She lay there, replaying in her mind what had happened during the past twenty-four hours. He'd caught her watching that movie. She knew he'd seen her hand in her panties. That had been embarrassing and scary, but he hadn't punished her — he'd hugged her. They'd slept together. She knew that wasn't what people meant when they said someone was sleeping with someone else, but those people didn't understand how important this man was to her. She would have gone crazy without him if she'd had to do all this by herself. She remembered her dream. She remembered waking up and seeing Uncle Bob standing there with his penis big and long and hard in his underwear. She hadn't had time to think about what that meant ... until now. What DID that mean? She reviewed what she knew about penises. Most of it, quite honestly, came from Bambi Bangs Baltimore. A penis was soft, at first, until a man wanted to have sex. Then a woman played with it and it got hard. Then they had sex for a long time, changing positions several times, probably because it was uncomfortable or something, and eventually the penis squirted and got soft again. She blinked. Who had played with Bob's penis to get it all hard like that? And he hadn't had sex with anybody, but when he came out of the bathroom, it had been soft again. Except that when he saw her pussy, it started to get hard again. She closed her eyes and remembered the look of that long, thick line in his underwear. He HAD been hard. She was sure of that. But if he was hard that meant he wanted to have sex, and there was nobody in the room to have sex with... Her eyes popped open and she stopped breathing. SHE had been the only woman in the room! Uncle Bob had wanted to have sex with HER! ------- In the room next door, Bob was also lying on the bed with the TV on. He'd gotten into bed with the idea of letting the TV lull him to sleep. He had flipped through the channels until he hit a public TV station that was showing a documentary on the D-Day invasion of Normandy. He let himself get caught up in the images of thousands of planes, ships and men all rushing hell bent into the kind of danger he understood. Or thought he'd understood. He was appalled at the images of men trying to land under withering fire, and amazed at the bravery of those who kept moving forward while others dropped all around them. His heartbeat increased to twice its normal rate as the pictures and the voice of the narrator mesmerized him. It was for that reason, and perhaps because the TV was providing the only light in the room, that he didn't see the door connecting his room to Jennifer's swing open. It wasn't until she tossed her pillow onto the bed beside him that he was aware he wasn't alone. That pillow landing beside him also startled him so much he jerked and yelped. He looked up to see Jennifer standing beside the bed. She had on the same long T shirt she'd worn the night before. "Shit, Jen!" he barked. "You scared the crap out of me!" He blinked. "How did you get in here?" She turned and pointed at the connecting door, which was standing open now. "I w-w-went to th-th-the d-d-desk and g-g-got the k-k-key." She seemed subdued, somehow. She was standing with her arms at her sides, almost stiffly. "Why didn't you just come knock on my door?" he asked. "B-b-because I was in-n-n my n-n-night g-g-gown," she said. Bob was unsettled enough that he missed the fact that if she wasn't willing to go in the hallway in her "nightgown," she surely hadn't gone down to get the key to the connecting door in it, which meant she could have knocked then. All he thought about was that she had appeared so suddenly. "Is anything wrong?" "I d-d-don't know," she said. "M-m-maybe." He started to sit up and then remembered that one of the benefits of having separate rooms was that he could sleep like he usually slept ... nude. He thought better of letting the covers drop from his chest to his lap by sitting up. "You want to talk about it?" he asked, not sure of anything else to say. She nodded. "OK," he said. "Turn on a light and I'll turn the TV off and we'll talk." "C-c-can we l-l-leave the l-l-lights off?" she asked. That puzzled Bob, initially, until he remembered some of the things they'd "talked" about recently ... things that could embarrass her. "Sure," he said. His natural reaction was to press the red button on the remote and the room suddenly went pitch black. He patted the bed beside him and said, "You can sit here, by me." He was completely unprepared when, instead of sitting beside him, she lifted the covers, like she had the night before, and slid in next to him. She didn't hug him, as she had before. She lay on her back beside him, in fact, and only her elbow and hip touched him. "Um, Jen!" he said softly. "I'm not exactly dressed." "Y-y-you weren't d-d-dressed last n-n-night either," she replied. "Well, I'm even less dressed tonight," he said. "That's part of that privacy I was talking about. That's how I usually sleep." "Oh." She was quiet for long enough that Bob got nervous. Her voice sounded different tonight. He couldn't put his finger on exactly how it was different, but he knew it was. Maybe she was still upset about him making her stay in her own room. Except that she wasn't in her own room. She was in his room. And he wasn't prepared for her to be there. "I'll get up and put something on," he said. "No!" "I don't want you to be uncomfortable." "I'm n-n-not." It was quiet again for what seemed like ten minutes, but was really only forty-five seconds. During that time, though, Bob's brain reflected on the fact that she knew he was naked, and didn't care. She hadn't gotten out of the bed. She hadn't rolled away from him. He felt himself get erect in what seemed like record time and that scared him. He needed to get this girl out of his bed. The only way he could think of was getting her to talk out whatever was on her mind, so he could tell her to go back to her room. "So ... you said you wanted to talk about something," Bob prodded. Another fifteen seconds of silence got him worried, and then she spoke. "Y-y-you said w-w-we c-c-could t-t-talk about an-n-nything ... right?" Bob felt something like fear begin to nibble at his consciousness. A true warrior knows that fear is not a sign of weakness. It's a natural reaction to a dangerous situation. But fear creates energy. One of the things a true warrior learns is how to channel that energy into something that could, hopefully, be used to lessen the danger. In this case, the danger was something that sounded entirely too open-ended to Bob. "I did," he admitted, carefully. It was quiet for another fifteen seconds. "I h-h-have a p-p-prob-b-blem," she finally said. "OK," he said noncommittally. "It's ... um ... th-th-this," she said. "This." Bob was confused. "Uh huh." "This," Bob said again. His confusion was apparent. "B-b-being in b-b-bed with y-y-you," she explained. Bob just said what came into his mind. "I can understand that," he said. "That's why I got you your own room." "N-n-no," she said, sounding patient. "Wh-wh-when I w-w-was in b-b-bed with y-y-you last n-n-night..." She moved her arms and legs before she went on. "I ... I ... I l-l-liked it." Bob's mind viewed that comment from several directions at once. He could understand, on an innocent level, how it's nice to be cozy in a warm bed with another person. He remembered, however, her pussy rubbing on his thigh and her hand resting on his prick, neither of which was on the innocent side of the equation. And that led him to think about how much HE had enjoyed being in bed with her, too, even though he was not proud of what he'd been thinking about while he enjoyed it. He was not proud that his stiff prick was jerking around under the sheet right now either. His problem was that he wasn't sure how many ways SHE was looking at this. It was more difficult than he thought it should be, but he took the high road and decided to let HER figure things out. "Do you know why you liked it?" "I th-th-think so," she said softly. "Because it makes you feel safe," he suggested hopefully. She was quiet for a long time and then she finally spoke. "I d-d-don't think th-th-that's it." The feeling of danger got stronger. It was like he could almost smell danger, somehow. He didn't know what to do now. He couldn't think of any other innocent reasons she'd want to sleep in the same bed with him, particularly in light of her recent experimentation with things sexual. He felt precum seep through the shaft of his penis and almost said, "Behave yourself!" out loud. "Then why?" he finally asked, for lack of anything else to say. She moved and with the beginnings of his night vision he could see that she'd rolled to face him. "It m-m-makes me ... um ... ho-ho-horny," she said. Bob almost groaned, but managed to speak more or less normally. "That's not a good thing, honey." "B-b-but I l-l-like being ho-ho-horny," she moaned. "I l-l-love b-b-being on the b-b-bike now. I think I'm ad-d-dicted t-t-to it." "You're not addicted," he said gently. "Yes, it feels good, and yes, it's fun to feel that way, but it's dangerous, too, especially when you're with me." "B-b-but why?" she asked, her voice rising. "Y-y-you'd n-n-never h-h-hurt me!" "No," he said firmly. "Not on purpose. But, baby, you don't understand. I feel things, too." "Wh-wh-what k-k-kind of things?" He could hear the curiosity in her voice. "Never mind that," he said, trying to avoid the issue. "The point is that when you're in bed with a man, ESPECIALLY when neither of you is fully dressed ... well, things can happen. It's not on purpose or anything, but ... like ... if I was having a dream or something, I might do something to you ... thinking it was part of the dream." "L-l-like wh-wh-what?" she asked. "I don't know," he said miserably. "Like touch you or something." "I d-d-don't m-m-mind if you t-t-touch me," she said. "Y-y-you t-t-touched me last n-n-night." "That's not what I mean," he said, feeling completely incapable of having this conversation without scaring her half to death. "What if I ... um ... well, say I rolled over and put my hand on your breast or something?" It was very quiet and he was afraid he'd been too graphic. "In y-y-your d-d-dream?" she asked. "Well of course in my dream," he said. He wanted to get out of the bed and pace. Nervous energy was making him jumpy. The image of him stalking around with his unruly prick leading the way kept him firmly under the covers. "I'd j-j-just w-w-wake you up," she said. In Bob's defense, it must be noted that he was clearly in over his head. In any other situation like this, he'd be trying to talk the woman INTO sleeping with him, rather than trying to talk her out of it. His lack of experience in trying to do what he thought of as "the right thing" in this case, came into play. "But you just said that sleeping with me makes you horny!" "It d-d-does," she agreed. "Then what if you decided you liked having my hand on your breast?" "Th-th-then I w-w-wouldn't w-w-ake you up," she said reasonably. "That's what I'm talking about, Jen!" he moaned, his thoughts fragmented. "You're not the only one who gets horny when we're in bed together. You were practically naked last night! I didn't know it then, but if I HAD, that boner I got would have lasted all night long!" He stopped suddenly. "Shit!" he said explosively. He hadn't meant to say anything about boners. "Y-y-you g-g-got a b-b-boner?" Her voice was high. "No," he said instinctively. "I don't know why I said that. I did NOT get a boner for you, Jen." She moved again, toward the headboard, and he didn't understand what she was doing, until the light above the headboard blazed on as she turned a knob. He covered his eyes. It was silent while he let his eyes adjust by letting more and more light in through his fingers, until he could look at her. She was sitting up, looking down at him. He couldn't control his eyes and they dropped to see her nipples spiked, poking through her T shirt. He jerked his eyes away. "D-d-don't lie t-t-to m-m-me," she said, her voice firm. "I'm t-t-trying t-t-to und-d-derstand th-th-this, and I c-c-can't if y-y-you l-l-lie to m-m-me." He left his fingers over his eyes. "I can't just tell you I got a hardon for you," he moaned. He certainly couldn't tell her he had one at that very moment, and that it had developed as soon as she'd gotten in bed with him. "Wh-wh-why n-n-not?" she asked. "Because you're Jennifer!" he yelped. "You're my best friend's daughter. You're just a kid! It's wrong for me to want to do things to you! I feel bad enough already for what happened on the bike and..." "STOP!" she yelled. He did, and peeked through his fingers at her. She looked angry. "I'm n-n-not a child," she said, with as much dignity as she could. "I l-l-like how I f-f-feel wh-wh-when I s-s-sleep with y-y-you. I d-d-don't w-w-want t-t-to s-s-sleep alone! I'm n-n-not asking y-y-you t-t-to have s-s-sex with me!" "Jeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnn," he moaned. "Don't you get it? I'm afraid I won't be able to CONTROL myself!" "B-b-bullshit!" she snapped. He snapped, too. He was whipping the covers off of them both before he could stop himself. Then, when he realized how much he was fucking up, he got mad. It was the anger that made him speak the words he did then. "It's NOT bullshit!" he growled as his stiff penis came into view. "See what you do to me, Jen? SEE!?" It was about then that it registered in his mind that she was sitting Indian style. She had done that after turning on the light, and the covers had been around her waist. They weren't now, and the fact that, once again, she wasn't wearing any panties, became painfully clear to both of them. Jen blinked, staring at his erection, and moved one hand, almost unconsciously, to shield her sex. All that did was bring her hand into contact with her pussy, though, as she suddenly understood something for the first time in her life. What she understood was that the man she got horny for was horny for her too. That sounds simple to most of us. But Jennifer had never been in love at the same time she was in lust and she realized, quite clearly in this instant, that that was what was going on here. Her hand pushed, putting pressure on her pussy now, instead of protecting it. Quite suddenly, Jennifer Brazelton wasn't at all sure she WANTED to protect her pussy. Oddly enough, the fact that Jennifer had gotten into bed with him with no panties on—again—had almost the opposite effect on Bob. Bob had plenty of experience with predatory women. He was, especially without his bushy beard, quite appealing to a lot of women. Some of them had plans for Bob Jefferson that he wasn't interested in. Usually the plans involved marriage, or revenge against a man who had hurt the woman. In such cases Bob's libido raised a defense that left him completely in control of his manhood. His thought processes just naturally interpreted Jennifer's actions as an attempt to TRY to get him to fuck her. That didn't last long, because his rational mind laughed at that idea almost immediately, but it lasted long enough that he wrested control from his gonads and began to think clearly again. He viewed this situation as a somewhat thorny educational opportunity now, and the warrior in him began to use all that energy surging through his body to that end. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling the covers back over his hips. "That's a very good example of how a man can sometimes do something he wouldn't do if he was thinking more clearly." He moved more of the bedspread to cover Jennifer's hand. She didn't remove it from between her legs, though. Her lower jaw was sagging open a bit and she looked a little stunned. "The fact is, honey, that you're a very beautiful and desirable young woman, and I'd bet almost any man would react like I did. That's why you need to be careful about getting into situations that can get out of control. That's why I got you your own room. I knew I was attracted to you, and I suspected that all these new feelings were playing havoc with your own emotions. I got you your own room so that we wouldn't have to worry about anything happening that we'd regret. I love you too much to ruin what we have together." ------- As so often happens when a man says something to a woman, it was like so much errant wind wafting around in the motel room. It's not really accurate to say she didn't hear a word he said. What's closer to the truth is that all his words did was fuel the flame that had burst into existence inside Jennifer. Jennifer was finally caught up in that storm of hormones that all teenage women get embroiled in sooner or later. And, as any meteorologist will tell you, storm systems are complicated and unpredictable. In the usual circumstances, the girl is with a boy who she likes, but doesn't know all that well. It's a little easier to put on the brakes in that situation, though sometimes those brakes fail. In this case, though, Jennifer was with a man she knew quite well and already loved. Her emotions fired, like the starter gun at the beginning of the hundred yard dash, signaling "GO!" And, as happens in a storm, the wind of her passions whipped some of his words away, while leaving others. What Jennifer heard Bob saying was something like this: "Baby, I love you. You're gorgeous and I'm hot for you. See how hot I am for you? I want you so much I'm out of control." The memory of that thick stalk she'd gotten a glimpse of wasn't at all scary. Her education told her what it was for and that things like she'd just seen had been used for their intended purpose for millions of years. People had sex all the time and were rumored to love it. Bob wanted to have sex with her and, quite suddenly, she wanted to have sex with Bob. To be fair to Jennifer, it wasn't like she just wanted to have sex. Had any other man been there, it would have been completely different. But it was Bob who was there ... the man she had adored for years ... the man she'd had her arms wrapped around as she had dozens of orgasms in the last two days ... the man she knew she loved, and who she knew loved her. At the same time, she knew, subconsciously, that she couldn't just "have sex with Bob." She didn't know HOW to have sex, and at least a little of his resistance had registered in her mind. So the goal now was to stay here, in this bed, with this naked man, so that exciting things could be allowed to happen. She reached for the hem of her T shirt and pulled quickly, dragging it up and over her head. She shook her hair out automatically as the shirt tousled it. Her eyes watched Bob's face. She saw his jaw drop. She saw his eyes widen. She saw him stop breathing. Before he could say anything, she reached for the light switch again, returning the room to darkness. Then she burrowed under the covers, crawling half on top of him. The heat of his skin was like fire as she rubbed her naked breasts against his chest and shoulder. Her nipples felt like they might explode, like popcorn. She threw one leg over him and ground her pussy into the hard muscle of his thigh. Her lips sought not for his cheek this time, but for his mouth. She felt giddy relief as she found it wasn't hanging open any more, which let her push against soft, yielding flesh, instead of kissing his teeth. She hoped she was doing this right. She'd never kissed a man before. Not on the lips. What she felt, in a general all over sense, at this moment, was the perfection of being naked with the man she loved ... of feeling his skin caressing hers, and of being so horny that she thought she might die from happiness. Bob, of course, viewed things from a slightly different perspective. ------- Chapter 8 It's kind of hard on a guy when he thinks one thing is going to happen and something completely different takes place instead. When Jennifer suddenly got naked, Bob's defenses took a hit. When, in the sudden darkness, he was covered with squirming naked girl, his defenses sagged significantly. As her lips mashed to his face, searching hungrily for his lips, his arm, upon which she was now lying, just naturally tightened, pulling her against him. Then all that danger he'd been feeling washed back over him and the defenses he had left rallied. "What are you doing?" he asked into the mouth of the girl who was trying to eat his lips. "I l-l-love you," said the girl. "We can't do this, Jennifer." "Y-y-yes we can," she panted. Panic began to send red hot sparks into Bob's system. "I'm not going to fuck you, Jennifer!" "Ok-k-kay," she said, kissing his upper lip and then his lower lip. "I mean it, Jen!" he said, not yet pushing her away. "I s-s-said okay! K-k-kiss me, B-b-bob." "No." he said. He began to think about how he was going to get her off him without touching certain parts of her anatomy. Jennifer's hand slid down his chest and across his abdomen like some kind of racing snake. She found his rampant penis as if she'd done so hundreds of times and her fingers gripped it tightly. He winced, but not from pain. It was from the complete surprise at what she was doing. "K-k-kiss me, Bob!" she said again. She didn't wait, but started raining kisses on any part of his lips she could find with her own. "Oh baby," he groaned. "Please don't do this." She pulled her face away a few inches. The fires that raged in her demanded some kind of satisfaction. She didn't know what that was, but she knew she needed something important from this man, and he wasn't cooperating. "Either k-k-kiss me or f-f-fuck me," she said intensely. "J-j-just d-d-do s-s-something!" She ground her pussy on his thigh and he felt the slipperiness of her arousal making his skin wet. ------- Men are, by nature, problem solvers. A man sees a problem and he just naturally tries to think of some way to make the problem go away, or at least get better. In the odd case, a man might retreat, if he knows he just isn't equipped to take action. But quite often a man will try to resolve an issue, even if he isn't really up to the task. In this case, Bob had lots of experience and no small amount of expertise in dealing with a horny woman. His male mind hypothesized that, if Jennifer had an orgasm, she'd calm down and he might be able to defuse the situation a bit. The alternative was to shove her away and get out of bed. Even his male mind knew that she would view that as rejection and things would most likely then get very ugly. What would you do in that situation? He knew he couldn't fuck her, as compelling and delightful an idea as that was. You can't "undo" a fuck. But there are dozens of other ways to bring a woman to her own completion that aren't as final as fucking her. And, to be honest, something in him craved hearing what she'd sound like in the throes of ecstasy that he was creating in her. So he kissed her. When he began cooperating with his lips, her enthusiasm became more centered. Her lips felt alive under his, moving, nipping, searching for something. He gave her his tongue and, instead of drawing back, she sucked at it and employed her own. She was a natural at kissing, and his erection felt like it might break off in her hand. He realized that he needed to get this over with as soon as possible, because the urge to sink into her buttery depths was getting harder and harder to resist. To that end he slid a hand down her side to the hip that was slowly humping against his thigh. Breaking that weld wasn't easy. A lot of her energy was going into her rubbing motions. But when she felt his hand trying to get between them she relaxed a little and he was able to slide his fingers into the swamp that was her sex. Her leg lifted automatically as she rolled her lower body away from him. He didn't work up to it. He knew she'd had her own fingers in her, and suspected her hymen was long gone. As he slid a thick middle finger between slick lips he found he was right, and kept going until the base of his finger pressed her young clitty. She gasped into his mouth and moaned as she was penetrated, most likely deeper than she'd ever been penetrated before. He curled his finger, in case she had a G-spot, and then simulated the motion of the clitty whizzer, shaking his hand in short, rapid, side to side strokes. She went off like a firecracker, and her groan was music to his ears as her lips went slack and her mouth fell open. Her gasps were timed with the thrust of her breasts against his chest as she went mostly rigid in his arms, her groan escalating into a high pitched whine. Her orgasm had come so quickly that it surprised Bob, and he was afraid that just the one might not be enough. He pushed with the hand that was cupping her mons, and she flopped onto her back as he rolled with her. Her left leg went wide, her knee bent. He couldn't resist tasting the nipples that had so recently felt like hot coals burning into his side. While his lips searched for and found them, he stopped moving his hand. He left his finger imbedded in her, but just pressed gently on her clit as she gasped for air. Then, when he thought she'd had enough time to recuperate from the first orgasm, he started stroking his finger in and out of her, raking the callused skin across her inflamed clit. She didn't have to learn the dance her hips began to do, thrusting up and then relaxing as she felt what it was like to have something thick and long sliding in and out of her sex. She was a natural at that, too. She just cooed and moaned and yipped with little catches of breath as she let the delicious feelings sweep through her. She learned, almost instantly, how to regulate this feeling, too. She couldn't press against the vibrating seat right now, but she could tell him what to do. "A l-little more!" she gasped, completely happy with what she was getting from this man she loved so much. He let the nipple he was sucking on slip from between his lips. "Okay, baby," he breathed. It was surreal, for Bob, as he rested on one elbow beside her. He was as hard as he'd ever been in his life, but the urge to climb on top of her was more of a distant call than a driving force. She was what mattered right now. Her hand was still gripped tightly around him. Her body motions had had almost the same effect as if she was jacking him off, even though she was just holding on tightly. He already knew that when she was finished, he'd get up, go to the bathroom, and spank the shit out of the monkey. That was perfectly all right. It wouldn't take long. When he was done in the bathroom, the situation would have been defused and the danger avoided. "Yes," she panted. "Oh yes!" He increased the motion, going faster and then, when she arched, he pulled his finger out and used three fingertips to whip back and forth across her clit as she gave an agonized groan of completion. Her heels came up and went hard into the mattress as she lifted her butt eight inches off the surface, her right knee slamming into the front of Bob's thigh. The high pitched keening wail came again and she fell limply back to the bed. Her hand finally released his cock and he leaned forward to kiss the upper swell of her right breast. He rolled away from her, and she gasped, "Don't go!" "I have to go to the bathroom," he said softly. "C-come back!" she panted. "I will," he assured her. He started jacking his meat while he stumbled across the darkened room. Instead of turning a light on and ruining his night vision, he simply stroked until it was time and then sat down hard on the john, bending himself downward to spurt into the bowl as he milked it. It seemed to keep drooling forever, and he heard his own rasping pant in his ears. There was a strong urge to lean back and just stay there, but he knew that would be uncomfortable. When he went back into the main room he realized the TV in her room was on, casting flickering blue light that illuminated his room as if it were some old black and white silent movie. He could see her, still lying there, knees bent and thrown wide. Her eyes were closed and her hands were lying by her sides. He could still hear the whisper of air between her lips as she dragged in deep breaths. As he approached the bed her legs straightened slowly. He got carefully onto the bed, aware that, as he walked, another drip had started through his now soft cock and might be about to fall from the tip. "Better?" he whispered. "Ohhhh yes," she sighed. "You really should go back to your room now," he said. Her head rolled toward him. "H-hold m-me," she commanded. "For a little bit," he negotiated. He couldn't believe how good she felt in his arms, pressed against him, her breath hot on his shoulder. She snuggled against him, but when she laid a leg on top of his, she didn't press her sex against him. It was obvious she just liked the feel of his skin against her leg. "I love you," she sighed. "I love you, too, baby." His words came out in a sigh as well. "Th-thank you." He didn't say anything. He knew, somehow, that she wasn't going to get up and go back to her room. He knew that she'd want to stay. He worried a little about that. He worried a little about what might happen later. But what worried him more than anything was that he wanted her to stay, too. ------- He didn't wake up in the night, or have a dream and roll over and ravish Jennifer. And she slept dreamlessly as well. He hadn't set the alarm, so it was left to them to wake whenever their bodies told them to. As it happened, she woke first. When consciousness came to her, Jennifer knew exactly where she was, and her memory of the previous night was both immediate and vivid. Only the back of her hand was touching Bob. She was on her stomach, lying more or less straight, as she usually slept. She didn't spread out in a bed and, while Bob did, the king sized bed in the motel was large enough that he'd been able to do that without trespassing on "her" side of the bed. Jennifer's first thoughts about what had happened were to do a silent physical evaluation of her body. She expected to feel different, and was mildly surprised when she didn't. Then she reflected on the intangibles. How did she feel about what had happened? Had this changed the way she thought about Bob? Should she feel guilty? In rapid succession, her mind provided answers to the questions. She felt great. The only difference in the way she felt about Bob was that she wanted more of the same from him. She did not feel guilty, and it really didn't matter if someone thought she should, because she knew she'd never feel guilty about it. That led to her trying to remember how everything had felt. She had less success there, because all she could remember was a huge glowing ball of happiness that she'd been suspended in, floating, while she let the delicious feelings sweep her to a place she'd never been before. She couldn't remember much about that place, except that she wanted to go there again. It was much easier to remember the orgasms she'd had on the bike, or with her own fingers. Even though she couldn't remember the details of the orgasm Bob had given her, she was sure that it was like comparing beef jerky to prime rib. Both were good, in their own ways, but if given the choice, she'd go for the prime rib every time. She opened her eyes. The room was dim, but the sun was obviously up. She was facing away from Bob, and she lifted and turned so she could look at him. She saw that he was lying on his back, his arms outstretched. Her hand was touching his forearm. She looked at his shoulder, round and full looking, with thick muscle under the skin. She felt that ball of heat fill her belly again. She did remember some of the kissing and the zings of pleasure as his lips tugged and sucked at her nipples. That had been simply amazing. She'd never thought that having her nipples sucked could feel that wonderful. She felt the urge to wake him up so he could do it again. But she remembered quite clearly how hard he had tried not to do those things to her. She understood, on an academic level, why he was resisting. She had no idea what her parents would actually say if they knew what had happened, but she knew he thought they'd be angry. That puzzled her, because they had always tried hard to help her be as happy as she could be. She could not know that most parents told their daughters over and over not to engage in sexual behavior during their teen years. The results of her half dozen dates were clear to her parents. She never told them about slapping the two boys who tried to grope her, and nobody ever asked her out twice, so they had no reason to worry about her innocence. And all the girls her age had boyfriends, and did things like she and Bob had done last night. In her opinion, all that had happened was what she had wanted to happen, even if she hadn't known what was going to happen, initially. Still, she knew he might be feeling some guilt, and waking him up the way she felt like waking him up might not work out the way she wanted it to. She thought about what to do. She could just get out of bed, go take care of morning chores and get dressed. Then it occurred to her that he might just sleep through all that, which would have her dressed, while he was still naked. That might not work either. In the end, she decided to do a mix of what she wanted to do and what she thought might make the situation a little less stressful. At least she hoped it would be less stressful for him. She needed some information first, though. She got it by lifting the sheet that was draped across the lower half of both their bodies. She looked at his penis for the second time and was delighted to see that it was hard, just like last time. That was what she'd been hoping for. She knew it didn't stay hard all the time, but it had been hard before, in the morning, and she'd been hoping it would be hard now, too. She looked at it for a few seconds, drinking in what she'd had such a short view of the night before. It really did look impossibly large, considering what it was made for. But she knew penises like this had been doing what they were made for for millions of years, and she had seen more than one enter Bambi easily, so she just accepted that it was normal. He moved in his sleep, turning his head. She didn't want him to wake up and find her staring at his penis, so she let the sheet drop slowly back down to cover him. Then, moving quickly, she got up on her elbow so she could slide over his arm. Pressing her breasts into his side, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek and, at the same time, reached with her left hand for that stiff penis. She squeezed it as her lips touched the fuzzy fur that covered his cheek. "W-w-wake up, sleep-p-pyhead!" she said in her normal voice. "I'm s-s-starving!" Then, as she saw his eyes open, she let go of his penis and rolled backwards to stand, naked, beside the bed. "W-w-we have to g-g-go ch-ch-check on M-m-mommy and D-d-daddy, t-t-too! C-c-come on!" She whipped the sheet off of him and then ignored him completely, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for them to wake up naked in the same room. She was trying as hard as she could to convince him that very little had changed between them. And if she could convince him that being naked together was no big deal, maybe he wouldn't resist so much the next time she wanted to be naked with him. She moved toward the connecting door, since her clothes were in the other room. She stopped in the still open doorway and looked back at him. "Are y-y-you up?" she asked, trying to sound impatient. "D-d-don't you d-d-dare go b-b-back t-t-to sleep!" "I'm up!" he said. His voice didn't sound like he'd just been awakened. "G-g-give me t-t-ten m-m-minutes," she said. ------- While Jennifer was standing under hot water in the shower, wondering if her plan had worked, Bob was, in fact, reflecting on her actions. He'd awakened when her breathing had changed from the slow measured breaths of slumber to the quicker ones of a person awake. He didn't know that's why he'd become awake, but his senses were so finally tuned that it was just normal for him to evaluate things quickly. He sensed she was awake. Like Jennifer, the memory of what had taken place last night came next to his mind. When she raised the sheet, he knew what she was doing even though his eyes were still closed. His heartbeat quickened and he moved his head intentionally. He had just had the time to worry about what was going to happen next when she moved toward him. His fear of having to fend her off had just begun forming in his mind when he felt the kiss and the squeeze she gave his morning wood. The fact that she'd then immediately rolled away from him, telling him to get up, was unexpected and gave him pause for a few seconds. She sounded normal, and when he rolled his head to look at her, she looked as normal as it was possible for her to look ... at least while stark naked. He couldn't help but let his eyes slither over her body. She really was a beautiful woman. She looked neither self conscious in her nudity nor contrived in her pose. Her voice was obviously trying to create the atmosphere that everything was fine ... no different than any other day. Her nipples were erect, though, and Bob knew that things were different this morning. There was no way they could be anything but different. Still, she was trying to act like it wasn't, and that alone spoke volumes to him. She wasn't embarrassed. She wasn't unsure. What had happened between them didn't bother her. He was still convinced that this intimacy between them was a mistake, but it was impossible for him to believe, in those few seconds, that he'd done anything to hurt her. When she disappeared into her own room, he got up. There would be time to deal with the ramifications of their new relationship later. Right now the easiest thing to do was act like she was ... to act like what had happened was no big deal. He could talk to her again later and try to get her head straight. What had happened might even help with that. She had to understand now how serious this sexual play could get. In his own bathroom, he became aware that her nudity had affected him more than he'd thought. When he drained the lizard, it refused to soften. He took care of that in the shower, milking another load out of his balls. He dried off, brushed his teeth, put on his socks and jeans, and pulled his boots on. She still hadn't returned when he was fully dressed. Instead of going to her room to wait, which might involve her being naked again, he turned on the TV to try to find a weather report. They'd been lucky to have dry weather, but if that luck didn't hold, they'd need rain gear. He frowned, thinking of trying to cram rain gear for two into the "luggage" that was already straining at the seams. He looked at his watch and saw it was nine in the morning. He was a little amazed he'd slept that long. He found the weather channel and had just seen the string of happy, smiling suns stretched out over the next seven days, when she came in and sat on the end of the bed beside him. "R-r-ready," she said simply. Silently reminding himself to act normal, he punched the button on the remote and stood up. "What are you hungry for?" he asked. "F-f-food," she said. He hazarded a glance at her face and saw an impish smile. It was so clear that there was nothing wrong, as far as she was concerned, that it made his groin try to tighten again. ------- Breakfast, during which there was the slightest of strain between them, went quietly and quickly. Back on the bike she asked him to stop at a bookstore in a mall they'd passed. "C-c-can I g-g-get a b-b-book to r-r-read to M-m-mommy?" she asked, when he had parked and turned the engine off. "Sure," he said, knowing she meant she'd have to use his credit card. "You can have anything you want." "R-r-really." It wasn't a question, and the tone of voice it was delivered in, despite the stutter, was pure seductress. It was the first indication she gave that what had happened was not only fine with her, but not over yet. Then, like she'd done after squeezing his erection, she just climbed off the bike and started toward the entrance to the bookstore, leaving him behind, for all intents and purposes. He caught up with her as she asked the clerk, "D-d-do you have an-n-nything by C-c-christopher M-m-moore?" The clerk ignored the stutter and keyed things into the computer. "Aisle twelve," she said, giving Bob the once over. Bob followed and watched, interestedly as she scanned the books and immediately pulled one down that had a baby buggy on the cover. He saw the title was "A Dirty Job." She turned and almost ran into him, obviously finished. "Why that one?" he asked out of curiosity. "She h-h-has the o-o-others," said Jennifer. "Oh," said Bob, feeling stupid, somehow. "Okay." Their purchase made, they went straight to the hospital. He felt that little squeeze twice on the way that he now knew meant she was taking full advantage of the clitty whizzer. ------- Chapter 9 She was all business at the hospital, and even Bob couldn't tell she'd been having orgasms on the way there. They were again denied access to ICU, this time by a different nurse. "Your father will be moved to a regular room today. We're getting him ready to go now. You'll have to wait until he's in his new room to see him," she said. "Your mother is still in a coma and will remain that way for at least another day. She's doing better, though. You'll have to be satisfied with that. I can't let you in there because of the risk of infection. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is." She was unbending, a bureaucrat doing her job, and not even Bob could sway her. Instead of trying to argue, Bob pulled Jennifer away from the doors to ICU and went in search of someone who could authorize her to sit and read to her mother. His argument was simple. She was willing to gown up or do whatever anyone wanted her to do in the name of infection control. She wasn't sick herself. Medical journals suggested that some patients in a coma could still hear, and being spoken to by a loved one was believed to be helpful sometimes. She just wanted to sit and read to her mother. He spent two hours asking to speak to one supervisor after another until they got high enough in the food chain to find somebody who had the authority to approve her request. In the end all she had to do was put on scrubs and a mask. By then, though, Don had been installed in a semi-private room, and Jennifer didn't know whether to go see him or stay with her mother. "We fought hard to get you here," Bob said. "Spend some time with your mother. Get them used to the idea that it's OK for you to be here. Then you can tell them you have to go, but you'll be back. Don't get in the way and don't bother the nurses, OK? I'll go see your dad. He'll understand why you're not there yet. She let herself be swayed by his argument and he left her there, taking her jacket and helmet and leaving her with only the book. Then he went in search of room 362A. When he got there he was politely informed that visiting hours were between six and eight in the evening and that the patient he had requested to see had just arrived on the floor and needed his rest. Patiently, or at least in a voice Bob thought was patient, he explained the circumstances and that Don needed to know some things that, quite likely, nobody was telling him. Finally he explained that the man's daughter had been authorized to visit her mother in ICU and that, if they wanted him to, he'd be happy to return to the same administrator and get an authorization for them to visit Don, too. Had the nurse been honest, she would have admitted that she just didn't like Bob's appearance. She wasn't honest, though, so she stood on a policy that, truth be told, wasn't really enforced all that stringently. It was easier to cave than fight, so she caved. Don was awake and alert when Bob entered the room. The breathing tube had been removed and Don was breathing on his own, albeit somewhat shallowly. "Didn't know if I was dreaming or not," he whispered. "Thought you were having a nightmare?" Bob smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. "Is Jen really here?" "She's with Susan," said Bob. He explained everything he knew about her condition and treatment, and what Jennifer was doing. "She's gonna be OK?" Don's voice rasped. "She's better today than she was yesterday," said Bob. "She's a tough old girl. She has to be to have survived living with you this long." He got a weak smile, followed by a grimace. "Hurts to breathe," Don said. "You fucked yourself up pretty good," said Bob. Then he told Don everything he knew about his condition. "Glad they could save the leg," said Don softly. "This is fucked up, though." He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again. "Thanks for taking care of Jen." Bob felt his inner conflict flare up. He had no secrets from this man, and he didn't want any. He wanted to tell Don what was happening to his daughter, but this wasn't the right time. The man had enough on his plate without having to worry about his little girl. "I'm trying," he said, feeling like he was lying through his teeth. "She's a handful," said Don. "But you'll do OK. You've had to go up against much worse." He smiled then and kept it on his face. "Damn I'm glad you're here." "No problem," said Bob. Then, to change the subject and entertain his brother in arms, Bob told him about what had happened to Matt, and who had answered the call, and finally what Bob had done about it. Don reacted like a SEAL. "Have you checked in with him since you left?" Bob shook his head. "Had other things on my mind. Ripper said he'd hang around for a while. I gave the ear to Matt. I should have kept it so I could show it to you." His grin was wolfish. Don shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks." Bob shrugged. "In all the years we were SEALs we never did that shit. I have to admit, though, it felt pretty good at the time and Matt had a shit eating grin on his face when I handed it to him. If nothing happens I'm sure he'll toss it." ------- Bob was still sitting there, slouched in a chair with his booted feet stretched out and crossed in front of him when Jennifer bounced into the room. "Daddy!" she sighed, as he turned his head to look at her. She started toward the bed. "Don't hug me!" said Don in an almost normal voice. She stopped, confusion on her face. "Ribs hurt," he added. She advanced and picked up his hand instead. "You l-l-look b-b-better," she said. "Baby, you have no idea how much I've wanted to hear your voice," said Don. "How's your mother?" Jennifer slumped. "They s-s-say sh-sh-she's doing b-b-better, b-b-but she j-j-just lays th-th-there." "Bob said you're reading to her." Jennifer nodded. "Want to read to me, too?" he asked. She nodded, smiling. "Sh-sh-shure!" She held up the book. Don squinted at it. "Ahhhh, your mother's favorite author. How weird is this one?" "P-p-pretty w-w-weird," said Jennifer, smiling. "Well then your mother will love it," said Don. "And I'll try to love it, too. Having you read it to me will make things better, I'm sure." Bob stood up. "I'm going to go for a walk," he said. "I don't want them to have any excuse to say that you're getting too many people in here." Jennifer looked at Bob for the first time since entering the room. "C-c-come get m-m-me for l-l-lunch?" "Sure thing, sweet cheeks," said Bob automatically. He felt his face begin to flush as what had been a common nickname for her took on new meaning. He hurried out, leaving her jacket and both helmets there. ------- Don watched Jennifer get comfortable in the same chair Bob had been using. He felt such enormous relief that she was there, and that she hadn't had to come to recover bodies to bury. He knew her stutter would disappear completely when she was reading, and he was pretty sure he could go to sleep, lulled that way by her voice. He watched as her foot hit a helmet and she leaned down to move it. "How was it, riding a motorcycle here?" he asked her. "You're not used to that." "It w-w-was f-f-fine," she said, opening the book. "It h-hurt m-m-my b-b-butt the f-f-first day, b-b-but it's b-b-better n-n-now." "Which bike did he bring?" asked Don, just out of curiosity. "It's b-b-black," she said, turning another page. "H-h-he c-c-calls it th-th-th B-b-babe B-b-bike." Don's eyes widened. "Did you say the Babe Bike?" he asked. He knew all about the Babe Bike. Bob had told him all about it one night while they were having a beer together. Don had complained that he never got to do something like that and wondered if Bob would let him borrow it to ride Susan around, just for fun. Bob had agreed, of course, but he'd never brought the Babe Bike when he came to see them. "Uh huh," said Jennifer, turning one more page. Then she sat back with her finger on the first sentence in the book. Something in his voice alerted her that this was interesting to him. "Why?" Don thought about it. He knew Bob came straight from helping Matt, so it must have been pure coincidence that he had THAT bike when he picked Jennifer up. Had his little girl been exposed to what that thing did? She had to have, unless Bob rigged it not to, somehow. "Nothing," he said softly. "I've never seen that one, I don't think." Jennifer tossed her hair out of her eyes. "B-b-bob said s-s-something b-b-broke on it, b-b-but it g-g-got us here f-f-fine." Don didn't know whether to smile or cry. He knew his daughter was all grown up, but he still felt very protective of her. He usually tried to hide that, because she needed to learn how to survive on her own. She couldn't stay home with her mommy and daddy forever, as much as Don wished she could. He wasn't about to ask her what it had felt like riding on a seat specifically designed to get a woman going. And for so LONG! Bob had to have done something to lessen the sensations. Don decided he was going to ask him, the next time he saw him. That much was certain. Then Jennifer started reading, and he let the soothing sounds of her voice wash over him. He was right. Within twenty minutes his eyes were drooping and he was perfectly comfortable with taking a little nap. ------- When Bob returned to the room to collect Jennifer, both the girl and her father were dozing. He touched her shoulder and she woke up. She smiled up at him, closed the book that was lying in her lap, and stood up. She held one finger up to her lips, telling him not to wake her father. Then a nurse came in as they were leaving and woke Don up to take his vital signs. "I'll b-b-be b-b-back," Jennifer said, going back to kiss him on the cheek. "OK," he said. "I'll be here." It wasn't until they were gone that he remembered what he was going to ask Bob about. ------- Bob looked at her as they approached the bike. "Why didn't you bring the pillow?" he asked. "D-d-don't n-n-need it," she said simply. "About last night," Bob said. On his walk around the hospital grounds he'd decided that they needed to confront things. Now that she knew her parents were going to be all right, and wasn't so worried, he just wanted to get it out of the way. She reached for his hand. "L-l-let's g-g-get some l-l-lunch," she said. "We have to talk about it sometime," he said patiently. "N-n-no we d-d-don't," she said, pulling him along when he tried to stop. "Unless y-y-you w-w-want to d-d-do it ag-g-gain r-r-right now." "No!" he yelped. "I'm h-h-hungry anyw-w-way," she said, letting go of his hand and putting on her helmet. She waited for him to get on the bike. When he didn't, she pointed, authoritatively. When he was seated, she climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around him, putting her hands inside his open jacket. He only drove them two blocks, to where he remembered a Mexican restaurant being. When he cut the bike off, she pinched his stomach. "N-n-no fair!" she complained. "What's not fair is what you're doing to me," he groused. She laughed. "Am I m-m-making y-y-you h-h-horny?" She wasn't embarrassed at all when he looked at her and was staring right at his face. He didn't answer. Her brow furrowed and she very carefully said: "Chicken!" "We're not done talking about this," he said heavily. "G-g-good," she said calmly. "B-b-because y-y-you're m-m-making m-m-me horny." Bob threw up his hands and followed her inside. She was still giggling. ------- She didn't pick at her food, but she took her time. It was two o'clock by the time they left to return to the hospital. How he got through that afternoon, Bob would never be able to say. Part of it was spent dealing with Don. They wouldn't let Bob on the ICU ward. HE wasn't authorized, but they welcomed Jennifer back like she was a sister. So he went down to sit with Don while Jennifer spent another two hours reading to her unresponsive mother. They watched TV, making fun of the daytime programs and talking about this or that during commercials. Bob had been there for an hour and a half when Don remembered to ask about the bike. "Did you really bring her here in the Babe Bike?" It caught Bob by surprise. "How'd you know that?" he asked, instead of answering the question. "She told me," said Don. "She told you." Bob felt like he might be getting an ulcer. "She said you claimed something was wrong with the bike." "I did," said Bob. "I couldn't help it. That's the bike I took to go help Matt. When she called, I didn't have time to go get another one." Don just stared at him and he felt compelled to defend himself. "I got her a pillow to sit on." He almost blurted out that she refused to use that pillow, but then bit his tongue. "Hmmmm," said Don. A nurse came in and fiddled with his IV. She said supper would be there in fifteen minutes. The way she said it and looked at Bob was clearly as much for his benefit as it was for Don's. Her unspoken suggestion that the patient should be left in peace to eat was loud and clear to Bob, but went right past Don, who was still thinking about ... things. "So how'd she know what you called it?" Bob hadn't felt this exposed since an Iraqi insurgent had walked by, five feet from the shadow he was standing in. His mind flailed. He couldn't just lie to this man. And the urge to confess was upon him too, for some reason. "I forgot all about it until we'd been on the road for an hour," he finally admitted. "She was ... um ... having a rough time. When I realized it, I got her the pillow ... and told her something must be loose." "Good grief," sighed Don. "I'm sorry!" moaned Bob. "I was so concerned about getting here that I just took off." Jennifer breezed into the room just then, and the conversation was suspended, much to Bob's relief. Jennifer asked her father how he was feeling and brought him up to date on what the nurses had told her about Susan. Then Don's supper arrived and Jennifer said they'd be back later that evening so she could read to him, too. The culmination of his afternoon difficulties was her attitude as they left the hospital. She slid her arm through his as they walked out, and pressed her breast against his biceps. It was clear that she was as unrepentant about what had happened between them as it was possible to be. Not only that, but her whole attitude suggested that the coming evening would challenge Bob in ways he'd never been tested before and had no training to deal with. Well ... almost no training. He DID give some thought to tying her up. But if he did that he'd have to gag her too, and he wasn't willing to go that far. It was probably for that reason that, after they had eaten—again having a quiet and vaguely tense meal—when she said, "L-l-let's d-d-drive around for a wh-wh-while," he simply pointed the bike west and tried to see if he could get lost. He felt her hands regularly squeeze his stomach, and with each squeeze he hoped she was getting it out of her system. He drove aimlessly around for an hour and a half before he had to stop for gas. He got off and stood there, looking at the silly smile on her face. "Are you going to behave yourself tonight?" he asked, swiping his credit card and starting the pump. She just looked at him, her face unreadable. "Please?" he almost whined. "I have t-t-to go r-r-read to m-m-my f-f-father now," was all she said. When they got back to the hospital she took her helmet off and fluffed her hair. "Y-y-you c-c-can c-c-come in and l-l-listen." "I know," he said, confused. "Or y-y-you could g-g-go b-b-back to th-th-the m-motel and c-c-cancel m-my room. You're j-j-just w-w-wasting y-y-your m-m-money." ------- Bob sat between the two beds in the room, with his back to the old man who was Don's roommate. He and the old man were listening while Jennifer read. Bob had decided to go into the hospital with her, primarily because, if it came up, he felt like he had to be able to tell Don that he'd gotten two rooms. He felt like he was lying to his best friend, but the last thing he needed was for Don to try to get out of bed to beat his ass for taking liberties with Jennifer. There would be time for that later. Bob was quite sure it would eventually happen. Things were spiraling out of control. As he listened to Jennifer's soft voice reading flawlessly, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should actually confide in Don EVERYTHING that had happened. Then maybe Don could talk some sense into his daughter. Things hadn't gotten completely out of control yet. But he couldn't do that with Jennifer in the room. He knew she'd get crazy if he started telling her father what they'd done. So, basically, all he had to do was get through one more night without anything bad happening and, tomorrow, he could bare his soul to his brother and beg the man to help him avoid catastrophe. "Funny," said the old man, from behind Bob. "She sounds so normal when she reads." "Yeah," said Bob. "Cute girl." "Yeah," Bob said again. "You're a lucky man," the old man sighed. Bob turned to look at him. "What?" The man smiled a tired smile. "I may be old, but I still 'member what it was like being with a pretty girl like her." Bob felt a spark of anger, but controlled it. "That's not the way things are," he said softly. The man blinked and glanced over at Jennifer. "That's a cryin' shame," he said. ------- The ride back to the motel didn't take long. Jennifer acted as though there was nothing wrong and nothing to talk about. She walked past the door to her room and waited for Bob to open his. Then she walked into his room and put her helmet on his credenza. She tossed her jacket on his chair and stretched. "I'm g-g-gonna go t-t-take a sh-shower," she said, and disappeared through the connecting door into her room. Bob knew she'd be back. He knew she expected to sleep in his bed again. He knew she expected him to give her the same kind of attention he'd given her last night. In truth of fact, his body wanted the same thing, ignoring the brain that objected to all this. The thought of her in the shower was making him hard. Principles always give way to hormones. His principles weren't quite ready to give up yet, though they were becoming a little tattered as he tried to think of a way to give her something, without giving her too much. He thought about beating off while she was in the shower. Then he decided he'd just stay dressed. He could give her a few orgasms and she'd go to sleep like she had last night. All things considered, he tried to convince himself, last night had gone pretty smoothly. It really was no big deal. She'd already had fun on the bike tonight, and he'd give her a little more fun and she'd be fine. He was still trying to decide what to do when she reappeared in the connecting doorway. She was rubbing vigorously at her hair with a towel, and she was as naked as the day she was born. "It w-w-would be n-n-nice t-t-to have a b-b-blow dryer," she said, conversationally. She appeared to be completely at ease with her nudity in front of him. "Yeah," he said helplessly, watching her breasts jiggle as she rubbed at her hair. She tossed the towel aside and raked her fingers through her platinum locks. Then she walked to the bed and turned it down on her side. She got in, arranged pillows to prop herself up half way, and lay back, pulling the covers up to her belly button. "W-w-would you g-give me th-the remote?" she asked. He got it and handed it to her, standing beside the bed while she clicked the TV on and began channel surfing again. Within a minute he felt stupid, shifting from foot to foot, trying not to look at her breasts. She was ignoring him, her attention on the TV, but he couldn't ignore her. "Can we please talk about this?" he finally asked. She looked at him, and then at the remote. She pushed the mute button. "I d-d-don't see th-th-the p-p-problem," she said. "I know you don't," he said, eager to keep her talking now that she'd started. "Just listen to me, OK? All I want you to do is understand how dangerous this all is. Remember what it feels like on the bike?" She nodded. "OK, and what I did to you last night ... that was better, right?" She smiled and nodded. "And you want to do it again, because it was so much better. But the thing is, honey, that there are always more and more things to do, and they all feel better and better, and you don't want to stop, and pretty soon you've gone all the way and it's too late." "I d-d-don't see th-th-the p-p-problem," she said, in the exact same tone she'd said it before. "The problem is you're a virgin, baby!" he almost shouted. "You need to save that for a special man ... the man you love and who loves you and who you're going to stay with. It's your gift to him and he'll love you for saving it for him alone. All this is fun, but it's very serious, too, and it's getting more and more serious all the time. You can see that. When you got on my bike to come here you would never have thought of letting me see you naked. Now you're lying in my bed naked and you expect me to DO stuff to you!" She tossed the remote on the bed beside her and threw the covers aside. She got up and stalked, rather than pacing, around the room. "Y-y-you KNOW," she said loudly, "th-th-that there's n-n-not g-g-going to b-b-be some s-s-special man!" She put her hands on her hips. "N-n-nobody c-c-can st-stand t-t-to h-h-hear me t-t-talk, Bob! Y-y-you know th-th-that." She stalked over to him. "I'm n-n-not s-s-stupid, Bob." She stared up into his face. "Besides," she went on. "I l-l-love you and y-y-you've m-m-made it p-p-perfectly clear h-h-how m-m-much you l-l-love m-m-me. Y-y-you're trying t-t-to p-protect me f-f-from s-something I d-d-don't want t-t-to be p-p-protected f-from!" "I wasn't talking about me," moaned Bob. She put her hands on his shoulders. "I am," she said softly. She stared into his eyes. "L-l-love me, Bob." His mind whirled. This wasn't the little girl he'd watched growing up. This wasn't poor little Jennifer ... bright, but handicapped by a speech impediment that he almost didn't even notice any more. Gone was the little girl, replaced by a woman who thought she knew what she wanted. Her hands moved to the hem of his shirt and she pulled it up, inch by inch, until she couldn't move it any further. She kept tugging, silently willing him to raise his arms. He did, eventually and she worked the shirt up and over his head. He helped then, and tossed it on the bed, while her hands smoothed over his chest. "I l-l-love you, Bob," she whispered. "I l-l-love th-this." She leaned forward to kiss his chest and then slid her hands around behind him to pull her naked breasts against his skin and rub them gently back and forth, in a sensuous writhing motion that couldn't be learned, but was the result of the natural urge to blend her body with that of her lover. "I can't make love to you," he whispered. Her arms tightened. "Not all the way," he amended. She ignored him and kissed his chest right beside one of his nipples. "I want to," he sighed. "That's the problem." "L-l-last night w-w-was fine f-f-for m-me," she whispered. "Sweetie, I had to go into the bathroom and masturbate to keep from raping you." She looked up at him with clear, trusting eyes. "C-c-can't I d-do that f-f-for you?" She was thinking about what she'd seen Bambi doing to the men in the movie. She'd thought it was disgusting when Bambi put her mouth on that man's penis, but the idea of doing that to Bob wasn't disgusting at all. "This is just so crazy," he moaned. "Please?" she whispered. "L-l-love me? L-l-let m-me l-love you?" ------- Chapter 10 Principle gives way to hormones. It's the way of nature. Once she got him to kiss her, he was lost. She worked his pants loose and, once they were around his knees, he either had to pull them back up or take them off. Her face was serious as she pushed him down on the bed. She grunted as she pulled at his boots and then giggled as she tugged his pants legs off each leg. Her newfound comfort with all this allowed her to move forward, between his legs, and reach for the waistband of his jockeys. She could see the long lump that she knew was his stiff penis under them and her heart thudded in her chest as she uncovered it. It was probably her obvious comfort level that was the straw that finally broke the proverbial camel's back. Bob's thighs and legs were hanging off the bed, so he couldn't raise his hips, but he rolled from one side to the other so that she could pull his briefs down over each butt cheek. Almost reverently she exposed his stiff prick, forgetting to completely remove his underwear as her curiosity claimed all her conscious thought. She just stared, at first. "It's b-beautiful," she sighed, finally. "Not as beautiful as you," said Bob. Her eyes flicked up to his, and he got a small smile, but then all her attention went back to his manhood. "Y-y-you'll have t-to t-teach m-me," she said, examining the thing in front of her. It looked vaguely different than the ones in the pay per view movie. She couldn't decide why, but it was different, somehow. "Let me get on the bed," he suggested. She stepped back and he moved up next to where she'd been lying earlier. "All you have to do is this," he said, reaching for his cock and stroking it slowly. Jennifer understood then why his looked different. His had some kind of skin that covered the knob and moved out of the way when he made his hand go down. The men in the movie didn't have that. She knew there was a name for it. It had been mentioned in her sex ed class in school, but she couldn't remember what it was called. She crawled on the bed and reached for him, remembering the feel of it that morning in her hand. All she'd done was squeeze it then. Now her hand replaced his and she was amazed when the skin under her hand moved easily, like it wasn't even attached to the hardness beneath. The big purple head was exposed, looking smoother and harder, somehow, than the rest of it. She licked her lips and, almost eagerly, leaned down to take that hard, shiny knob in her mouth. "Ohhhh shiiit," groaned Bob. He sounded like someone was killing him and she pulled right back off. "Am I h-h-hurting you?" she asked anxiously. Bob wanted to laugh insanely, but held it in. "No," he gasped. "It just feels so good ... and I wasn't expecting it." "Oh," she said. Within five minutes, Jennifer decided this was quite possibly the most fun thing she'd ever done in her life. She loved the feel of the tight skin against her tongue, and the sounds Bob was making made her feel both powerful and successful. The shaft, gripped firmly in her hand, felt bumpy and interesting as the loose skin let her hand move back and forth a little while she sucked and licked and kissed her new plaything. She knew, though, that it was supposed to spurt, but it wasn't doing that. She asked Bob why not and he explained that, while it felt perfectly wonderful, with her mouth alone, it was unlikely that would happen. He instructed her in the art of masturbating him. That, she decided, was a lot of work, because she had to hold him just so tightly, and move in just this manner, and at just that speed, before he pronounced she was doing it perfectly. Her arm was getting tired and she was about to give up when he groaned and the thing in her hand began spurting wildly. She was delighted, and the ache in her arm was forgotten as she jerked furiously, watching with delight as thick white drops flew all over the place. She felt them hitting her skin and noted the heat in them. It never occurred to her to be put off by his fluid hitting her body. It was part of him, and she loved him, so she loved his sperm on her, too. Then he had to make her stop, because she just kept going. Her delight made her go to his face for kisses and she writhed on top of him, letting his sperm make a slick surface for her to wiggle around on. Within a minute she was splayed on her back, like she'd been the previous night, and was delightedly humping her hips up as his thick finger pressed deeply into to her and his lips sent delicious thrills from her nipples to where that finger was sliding in and out of her. "Wait!" he said, and she complained loudly when his finger vanished from her pussy. She raised her head to see him getting ready to do what one of the men had done to Bambi, and then she felt like she'd died and gone to heaven as his tongue replaced his finger. He gave her three orgasms with his tongue and she welcomed each one like it was her long lost sister. Because of the bike, she was fully aware that she could have orgasm after orgasm. Because of the bike, she was USED to having orgasm after orgasm. Half an hour later, Bob was wondering if he'd bitten off more than he could chew ... metaphorically speaking ... because she wasn't ready to quit after half a dozen orgasms. He moved back up to lick and suck at her nipples and dug his finger deep, feeling for her cervix with the callused tip. She squirmed and moaned, jerking her pelvis frantically as another orgasm ripped through her. "I l-love this!" she gasped. "I l-love YOU!" It ended up taking two more to bring her to limp submission, and then, as before, she wanted to be held. Bob turned out the light, got back in bed, and held her as they both drifted off to sleep. ------- Once again, the older man and the young woman slept dreamlessly, though they stayed in contact this time. And this time, Bob woke first, to the inevitable mixture of sensations that were both pleasant and not so pleasant. Having her in his arms was pleasant. The feel of the dried residue of his spend gluing them together ... not so much. He also knew that, not having brushed his teeth the previous night, his morning breath would be atrocious. So he slipped out of bed and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower. He stopped at the commode long enough to relieve the pain in his bladder, which also wilted his morning wood. He shouldn't have been surprised when she pulled the shower curtain back and stepped in with him. He still wasn't used to her newfound lack of modesty, though, and he jumped when the curtain moved. Her taste of making him do what she wanted had already developed into a much more assertive attitude, as was made clear when she pushed him to the back of the tub and got under the warm spray. He smiled as she grabbed the soap and slid it all over her front and arms. It hadn't felt good to him, but her first experience waking up with dried cum on her skin apparently hadn't bothered her all that much, because as soon as she was clean, she turned around, slid her arms around him, and rubbed her naked front against his. "Morning," she sighed. He slid his hands down to cup and squeeze tight, round buttocks and felt his cock wake up. She lifted her face, obviously wanting a kiss, and he gave her a quick peck on the lips. She stepped back and looked down at what she'd felt moving against her. "Is it a-a-always h-h-hard?" she looked back up at him and the look in her eyes told him she was teasing. "Around you it is," he said. The teasing look left her eyes and was replaced by something he didn't recognize until she spoke again. "Are y-y-you ever g-g-going to p-p-put it i-i-in m-me?" His hands were still on her waist and they pushed her back reflexively. "No!" he said. Her expression changed subtly and presaged a shift in attitude toward unhappiness. "That's off limits, Jennifer. Don't even think about that!" She didn't move, other than to cock her head sideways just a little. "Wh-wh-why n-n-not?" she asked. "What HAPPENED to you?" he asked sternly. "Where is the sweet, innocent girl I've known all these years?" "YOU happened t-t-to m-m-me," she said firmly. "I n-n-never th-th-thought ab-b-bout this s-stuff, unt-t-til y-y-you b-b-brought me h-here!" Bob was pretty sure it was the bike that had done it, and not him. On the other hand, he was responsible for the bike, so maybe it WAS his fault. In any case, he had to quash this idea. They'd already done way more than was acceptable. It had been wonderful. There was no doubt about that, but he'd already had a hard enough time facing Don. He wouldn't be able to face the man at all if he did what she was apparently suggesting she wouldn't fight against all that much. "Well, regardless of that, you're moving way too fast, little girl," he said firmly. "You're not having sex with me or anybody else. Not for a few more years." ------- It must be explained here that when Jennifer asked her original question, she asked it out of a queer combination of lust and curiosity. It's not fair to say she WANTED Bob to "put it in her." Not then, anyway. It was more of a hormone driven logical progression to her thinking. Everything he'd done to her had felt so wonderful and her bursting heart loved him more and more each day. It wasn't strange that she'd be curious as to when things would move along ... even if she wasn't actually TRYING to move them along. And, because Jennifer's social maturity was lagging a bit, along with her lack of real experience with men, it wasn't odd for his flat denial that anything of the sort would happen to flip the switch that is in all young women. That switch seems to be associated with whatever it is in a girl that brings out stubbornness and the desire to pout and get what she wants ... even if she isn't quite sure exactly what that is. In other words, when he said she couldn't have it ... she suddenly wanted it. It was most likely a product of the fact that Jennifer was, in fact, younger emotionally than she was physically, that caused her to think that she could manipulate him. She'd often gotten what she wanted just by pouting. But now she'd had just a taste of the power most women learn they have over men. So it was probably normal, considering her limited experience that she thought sinking to her knees and sucking his penis into her mouth might get her what she thought she wanted. He disabused her of that notion immediately, when he pushed her head back and pulled his penis out of her mouth. "Nice try, Princess," he said sternly. "You're clean, and I'm clean. It's time to go eat so we can go see your parents again." He pulled her up, turned her around, pulled the shower curtain back, and the room resounded with the wet crack of his hand on her right butt cheek. With a startled and angry "EEEK!" she jumped out of the tub. The only thing that saved her from going down in a heap was the bath mat that Bob had put down. Bob turned off the water and stepped out. He grabbed two towels and threw one in her face while he used the other one to quickly wipe down his body. "I DON'T L-L-LIKE Y-Y-YOU!" she shouted. "Good," he said. "Maybe that will keep you a virgin, like you SHOULD be!" She got so mad she just spluttered. Bob simply left the bathroom and got dressed. ------- She was still pouting when she stalked out of the bathroom. She was still naked, of course, and while she was mad—perhaps BECAUSE she was mad—she made no effort to get dressed quickly. Maybe she thought she was tempting him. He simply put his jacket on and said he had to check the bike's oil and would wait for her there. She stayed mad. He could tell because she didn't put her arms around him when they left the parking lot. Instead she put the palms of her hands on the back of the king seat, which rose just high enough to provide some lumbar support for the driver. He could feel her pushing on the seat, perhaps in an attempt to lessen the effect of the clitty whizzer. He grinned at the concept that she was avoiding things sexual this morning. If he could keep her in that frame of mind, the situation might become more manageable. She'd calm down eventually, and then maybe she'd listen to him when he tried to reason with her. She spoke only one word during breakfast. With food still on her plate, she pushed it away and said, "D-done." She didn't speak to him at all at the hospital. He followed her to her father's room, where something almost magical seemed to take place as she entered. She was a completely different woman in the room, telling her father how happy she was to see him and asking him how he felt. She spent half an hour talking to Don before telling him she was going to go see her mother. When she was leaving, Bob was feeling pretty good. Until she was gone and Don looked at him. "What's she all riled up about?" "Riled up?" Bob hadn't seen any indication she was unhappy at all, once she went into Don's room. "She's pissed off about something," said Don. "It's obvious." "I didn't see anything like that," said Bob. "Then she's pissed at YOU about something," said Don firmly. "Boy, you need to tell them to give you some cheaper drugs or something," quipped Bob. "What did you do, Bob?" asked Don. "She doesn't act like that unless she's really pissed off." "I didn't do anything!" said Bob, feeling panic beginning to form in his gut. ------- I know you want to get on with the story, and I get mail all the time about these little interludes where I tell you something I think you need to know, while all you want to do is find out what happened next, but sometimes, you just can't tell some parts of a story in narrative style. Believe me, it would be WAY more tedious than these little interludes. You'll understand in a minute. Most of you have probably never been interrogated. At least not by a professional. In most situations, when someone begins probing into your business, you can just get up and walk away. But when you CAN'T leave, and a pro goes to work on you, there is this phenomenon that takes place, which is a little like a statue being created. You start out as a block of stone and when the interrogator is done with you, you're a fully formed statue that tells the story. I'll give you an example. When asked about a particular incident, you start out saying you weren't there at all. Eventually, you admit, "Well, OK, I was there, but I didn't see anything." A while later that changes to, "OK, OK, I was there and I saw some stuff. I saw the guy start something with Joe, and Joe popped him one. But that's all, I swear!" The interrogator sweats you some more, pointing out inconsistencies or impossibilities in your story, and you change to, "Well, the guy was sitting on Joe's stool, you know? It was Joe's favorite stool, and the fucker wouldn't move when Joe told him to. So Joe pushed him. And the fucker decided to get smart and he pushed Joe back. So he HAD to be taught a lesson, right? But we only hit him a few times, I swear to God!" And then you have to come up with some explanation as to why the victim has broken ribs, missing teeth and was unconscious on the floor, bleeding like a stuck pig, when the paramedics got there. And eventually, a complete confession just leaks out of you about how some poor schmuck said he could sit wherever he wanted, so you and three of your drunken friends worked him over, basically for the fun of it. That's how it works when you can't duck the issue and somebody who knows what he's doing is asking the questions — like Don, who was a trained interrogator, who had worked on subjects much tougher than Bob. And he'd never had to use torture either. ------- "So let me get this straight," said Don, an hour later. "Basically, what you're telling me is that you brought my baby girl here on the Babe Bike and got her addicted to orgasms, and then you had her sleep with you in the same bed, and got her naked in that bed, and then you did everything except fuck her brains out." His voice had recovered from the effects of the breathing tube, and was clear and heavy. "Come on, man," Bob moaned. "It wasn't like that at all. Shit just happened. I tried to stop it, but it just happened!" "Sure it did," said Don. "Shit just happened and it was all sweetness and light. That's why she's so pissed off at you." He smiled, but it was obviously a false smile. "That makes perfect sense, Snake." It was Don's use of Bob's old SEAL call sign that caused things to practically freeze up inside of the big man. In their SEAL days, Bob had been given the name because the men said he was like the serpent, who conned Eve into eating the apple, and who could con any woman out of her clothes. "It wasn't like that," Bob said heavily. "I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do it to Susan either, and I wouldn't do it to Jennifer. I love her, Don. You're wrong." "Am I?" asked Don, thinking like a father. "I know you pretty well, you know. You built the Babe Bike for a reason. And the fact that you didn't just drive her here in her car proves you did it on purpose!" Bob took a breath to deny it and stopped. "Car? What car?" "Don't even try that with me," Don sneered. "We gave her a Beetle for her birthday. I should have remembered that the first time the Babe Bike came up, but I had a lot on my mind." "I didn't see any car," said Bob. "And she didn't tell you about it. Right. I can't believe you'd do this to me! I trusted you!" Bob's frustration was boiling over, which is never a good time to speak. "You want me out of here?" he asked. "Maybe that's not such a bad idea," replied the girl's father. Bob's stomach felt like he'd swallowed a bowling ball. He stood up. "I'll pay for the room for two more weeks and give her some money for food. It's not so far she can't walk here, and she can take the bus back home or whatever. That's the best I can do. I'll go take care of all that right now and then I'll leave. I've got shit to do anyway." Don didn't say anything. There was nothing more for Bob to do but walk out and start getting things in order like he'd said he would. ------- In the ICU Jennifer sat next to her mother's bed, the book open in her lap. There hadn't been any nurses in sight when she'd walked onto the ward, so she'd just put on a gown and mask, like usual, and gone on into her mother's room. Because she hadn't seen a nurse, she wasn't aware that the drugs being administered to her mother had been tapered off and she was now only on pain killers. She was expected to come out of the coma sometime that day. Jennifer had been reading, but at some point had stopped and just begun to talk. Staring at the open book, she poured her heart out to her unconscious and unresponsive mother. She told her everything that had happened, just like it had happened. Perhaps because she WASN'T being interrogated, it all came out in a much more natural and logical stream of information. She spoke of the feelings she'd been experiencing, and what had caused them. She spoke of Bob's infuriating refusal to help her explore those feelings. She talked about the mixture of joy and awe she'd experienced as she'd discovered how her body could be coaxed into making her feel as fully alive as she'd ever felt. She relived, verbally, waking in the night, in bed with Bob, and realizing that the love she had for this man had changed somehow, deepening into something she didn't understand that he wouldn't let her examine in detail. She talked about the feel of his skin against hers and how, when he finally touched her, she'd thought she'd burst with happiness. She had just finished talking about how when she'd asked him a simple question — if he'd ever make love to her — he'd been mean to her. He'd practically SPANKED her! He'd called her a BABY! The frustration of it all had brought tears to her eyes and she reached a hand up to wipe them away. "Don't cry, baby," came a dry, cracked voice from the bed. Jennifer's eyes flashed to her mother's face, and the eyes that were OPEN in that face, which was turned toward her daughter. "MOMMY!" squealed Jennifer. Susan winced, a result of the suddenly loud voice and the aches and pains that seemed to have taken the place of her entire body. "Mommy!" whispered Jennifer. "You're alive!" Susan smiled weakly. "Of course I'm alive. How's your father?" "H-h-he's doing r-r-really g-good," stuttered Jennifer. "You want to know something interesting?" asked her mother. "W-wh-what?" "The whole time you were telling me what happened between you and Bob, you only stuttered a couple of times." Jennifer sat straight up. The book slid off her lap and plopped onto the floor. "Y-y-you h-h-heard th-th-that?" she gasped weakly. "Every word," said her mother. "Ohhhhhhhh," moaned the girl. ------- Of course Susan left a few things out during her first conversation with her daughter after she woke from the coma. She remembered other things than Jennifer's impassioned description of events. There was the stark remembrance of headlights coming at the car and the terrible grinding crunch of metal being torn and twisted. Susan had been conscious throughout the entire crash and the aftermath. At one point, she'd wished for death, so she could escape the unimaginable pain that had wracked her body while people came and shouted and moved things and eventually dragged her out of the car. It had been at that point that she'd lost consciousness. The pain had overwhelmed her like an ocean wave. She had eventually become aware of herself again, but it had been horrifying. She'd been in complete darkness and unable to see. She'd heard strange noises and unfamiliar voices, but could see nothing at all. At first, she'd thought she was blind, and then that she was paralyzed, because she was aware of the events taking place around her, but could do nothing about them. Then there were the dreams, as she thought of them, when Jennifer's sweet voice had appeared in her head, talking to her and reading. She had worried about Don, there in the dark, but Jennifer's voice had said he was going to be all right. The dreams had both soothed her and frustrated her, because she'd tried and tried to wake, as Jennifer read to her, but couldn't. Then something had changed and she'd begun moving slowly toward being awake. Her mind had flooded with sensations, at that point, that made her existence seem fragmented. There had been pain, and odors, and the sound of Jennifer's voice. She'd centered on that voice, ignoring all other distractions, and listened intently. Some of what Jennifer had said struck a chord in Susan's memory. Susan had gone through rites of passage similar to what Jennifer was talking about. Ever since her daughter had entered puberty, Susan had mourned for her, believing that Jennifer would never have the opportunity to go through the same rites of passage, because of her persistent speech impediment. As such, when Susan had opened her eyes and looked once more upon her daughter's form, she'd felt an overflowing of both love and relief, rather than what a typical mother might have felt after hearing that her daughter had become sexually active. Of course, part of that feeling of relief was a result of the right man, as Susan thought of him, being there when Jennifer's sexuality had clawed its way into the light. Basically, as far as Susan was concerned, Jennifer could do a lot worse than Bob. A LOT worse. Even if he was old enough to be her father. And so, as it turned out, on that day in the lives of the Brazeltons, Jennifer's "confession" took a back seat, in a way, to other issues. In short, Susan was more worried about her husband's future than she was about her daughter's. ------- Chapter 11 "I want to see your father," Susan said, her voice stronger now. "And I'm so thirsty I feel like I might turn to dust and blow away." Jennifer blinked. Her face still felt hot from blushing when she realized her mother had actually HEARD about the masturbation and trying to get Uncle Bob into bed. But her mother's reaction threw her for a loop. She jumped up. "I'll g-g-go g-g-get a nurse!" she yipped. Wanting to see her husband seemed like an eminently reasonable and simple request, to Susan. Jennifer agreed. But hospitals don't necessarily operate in ways that most people would define as either simple or reasonable. Perhaps it's relative. It wasn't that the nurses didn't WANT Susan to be able to see and talk to Don. It was just that Susan was still in ICU and Don wasn't. They were on separate floors, and Susan wasn't in the kind of bed that you can just push down hallways and into elevators. And Don's bed was festooned with rods and cords and cranks and pulleys, all designed to immobilize his leg. Jennifer, unable to make any headway in granting her mother's wish —though she was able to convince a nurse to give her mother some water —went looking for Bob, who she was sure would be able to make things all right. And that was when she found out from her father that Bob had left and was going back to Atlanta, where he wouldn't represent a danger to poor, innocent Jennifer. ------- Two hospital security officers hurried down the hallway toward the sounds of screaming. A nurse caught up with them, jogging. She had a syringe in her hand, with a pink plastic cap over the needle. "I have a sedative here!" the nurse panted. "Won't need it," one guard almost shouted. He waved a pair of handcuffs in her face, already out of the leather carrier he'd never removed them from before now. At least he'd never removed them for official reasons. "We can handle it." They saw three nurses huddled together in front of the door to the room they'd been dispatched to. The screaming suddenly stopped and a young woman wearing a black motorcycle jacket came storming out of the room. The three nurses scattered as the biker babe stomped between them. She ignored the two guards and the nurse with the syringe as she stalked by them, muttering under her breath. They entered the room to find only two patients in it. The first was an old man, sitting up in bed, who had watched, fascinated, as the good looking girl who stuttered suddenly stopped stuttering and raked her father over the coals like a Marine drill instructor talking to a raw recruit who had dropped his rifle. The other was the girl's father, though they didn't know that at that moment. It took them only a minute and a half to realize that their presence was no longer needed. They'd missed the whole incident, and the girl who had caused the uproar ... the one who had stalked by them ... was gone. ------- Jennifer, whose body was enjoying the benefits, if you can call it that, of a number of chemicals dancing through her bloodstream, exited the front doors of the hospital and suddenly jerked to a halt. She looked around helplessly, not knowing what to do. She knew where the motel was, but had no way of getting there. With a stab of regret, she realized she had wasted precious time by yelling at her father. What if he was already gone? She knew how quickly he could move when he was motivated. More adrenaline was added to the mixture coursing through her body. She transitioned from standing to running as though a sprinter's starting blocks had been at her disposal. ------- Bob's gear was packed and strapped onto the bike. He'd moved everything he wasn't taking into Jennifer's room. He couldn't find the keycard to that room anywhere, and hoped she had it with her. Now he was waiting, while a couple who had to be octogenarians negotiated with the desk clerk to pay for their room. The man seemed to have a whole list of possible discounts that might apply to them, and was going through his billfold pulling out cards. "How about AAA?" wheezed the old man. "Do we get a discount for being in AAA?" He held out a card to the desk clerk. Bob tapped the toe of his riding boot on the floor. "Give him our AARP card, Henry," urged the man's wife. "I'm pretty sure I've given you as low a rate as I can," said the desk clerk. Finally the couple was finished. They'd paid in cash, which had seemed to take forever, as the clerk had to make change and count it out twice. Then the old man carefully put the bills in his billfold and pulled out a coin purse to drop the coins into. Bob explained the change in arrangements to the clerk, who then had to navigate through four different computer screens to close one room out, while leaving the other one booked. He seemed relieved when Bob handed him a credit card. "Do you want me to charge this now, or wait until she clears the room?" asked the clerk. He frowned. "Maybe I should charge you for the room you're vacating now and just hold the card number for when she leaves." "Whatever," Bob huffed impatiently. "I just want her taken care of, OK? I don't want her to have to worry about anything." Then Bob wanted to leave some cash for Jennifer in the hotel safe, with instructions to give it to her the next time they saw her. That ended up being an absurdly complicated task as well, which involved counting the money three times and having Bob sign across the seal of the envelope the money was put into. By the time Bob walked out to the parking lot to get on the bike, he'd been gone from the hospital for almost an hour. Had there not been cross traffic, requiring Bob to stop at the entrance to the motel parking lot, it might have been tragic. Jennifer saw him, from half a block away. Her lungs were burning and she felt like she might fall flat on her face at any second. But there WAS traffic, and Bob DID have to stop. It also required him looking both ways repeatedly, before he could release the clutch lever and move onto the street. It was the third time he looked to his right that he saw her running toward him. To his credit, Bob never thought about pretending not to see her and just taking off. She was running with that wobbly kind of gait that runners have at the end of a race where they use every last erg of energy to cross the finish line, before stumbling around and sometimes flopping on the ground. Reason told him she knew he was leaving, and that she was here because of that. He pulled a U turn in the entrance and put the bike in a parking space. He sat there, lifting his left foot to toe the tranny into neutral so he could release the clutch lever while he waited for her. She arrived, stumbling so much that Bob was afraid she'd go down. Her mouth was wide open and all she could concentrate on, initially, was dragging in breaths. One hand reached to grip the shoulder of his jacket and she held on, leaning into him while her head drooped. While he waited for her to catch her breath, he began thinking of how he'd phrase his goodbye. He was therefore surprised, to say the least, when her first gasping words were "Shut the fuck up!" "Say what?" he asked, confused. "I k-know," she gasped, "what y-you're," she panted "g-g-going to s-s-say." "Well then you know it makes sense," he said. "I s-s-said shut th-th-the f-f-fuck up!" He couldn't help but smile. Even though she had blossomed so much in the last week, she was still so ... so Jennifer! She reached for the key and flipped it off. The bike went suddenly still. "Y-you're n-n-not l-leaving!" she panted. "I have to, Jen," he said gently. "Says who?" she asked belligerently. "Says your father, for one," said Bob. "And we both know he's right." Jennifer was in the middle of another rant that was surprisingly similar to the one she'd delivered in the hospital, when a patrol car pulled into the entrance of the motel parking lot and stopped. The window rolled down and a crisp young man looked out at the man on the motorcycle and the woman standing beside it, screaming. "Is there a problem?" he asked officially. "No problem," said Bob, swiveling his head to face the man. "YES, THERE'S A PROBLEM!" screamed Jennifer. "HE R-R-RAPED ME!" ------- Six hours later Bob lifted his head from where it had been cradled in his hands as he heard the big lock clank. The cell door opened and a man in uniform looked at Bob. "You can go now," he said. "It's all cleared up. We talked to the girl's parents, and she recanted her accusation." "I told you," said Bob. "Didn't I tell you?" "We had to check it out, man," said the officer, unapologetic. "Yeah," said Bob, disgusted. "Follow me and you'll get your personal belongings back. There's a little paperwork to do and then you're out of here." The officer seemed disinterested, now that the excitement was over. A woman, also in uniform, dumped a manila envelope onto the counter and shoved a form at Bob. "Sign there," she said, pointing to an X beside a blank line. "Where's the key to my bike?" asked Bob, gathering up his things. "There wasn't any key on you when you were arrested," said the woman. "It was in the ignition of the bike!" Bob was obviously upset. "What if somebody stole it?" "I wouldn't know about that." she said. "If it's gone, you can file a stolen vehicle report." "Thanks so much!" Bob said, acid in his voice. "Look, sir," she said, a flush on her face, "I'm just doing my job here." "I feel so well protected," said Bob, still angry. "Is that everything that was taken from you when you were arrested?" asked the woman icily. Bob scribbled on the form and put his things back in his pockets, ignoring the woman. He looked around, and the woman pointed. "That way is out," she said, as if she hated having to give him the information. "And how am I supposed to get anywhere?" he asked, disgusted. "I don't know, sir," said the woman. She seemed pleased that he was stranded. ------- Bob left the police station with the intent to walk back to the motel. He hadn't paid that much attention to how they'd gotten to the station — he'd had other things on his mind during the short ride — but he remembered some landmarks and was pretty sure he could find the motel again. That became superfluous when he saw Jennifer sitting on the bike, waiting for him. When she saw him, she reached, turned the key that had so recently been the center of attention, and thumbed the bike into a throaty roar. He didn't know what to think. He walked up to her. "G-get on!" she shouted. "It's MY bike!" he shouted back. "G-get ON!" she yelled. "This is CRAZY!" he roared. Her right wrist dropped and the motor revved. The bike shot forward five feet and then stopped. She looked over her shoulder at him. She didn't have to say anything this time. Bob walked toward the bike. The extra helmet was perched on top of the sissy bar, but he ignored it. He wanted to snatch her off the bike and paddle her butt, but he knew if he tried she'd just take off. He stepped on the left foot peg, and the bike leaned as her left leg struggled to compensate for the weight. "You are in SO much trouble!" he growled as he settled into the queen seat and put his arms around her. Then his hands gripped at her shirt as the bike suddenly shot forward. ------- Bob had to admit she was a lot better than he though she'd be. She went through the gears smoothly, like she'd been riding for years, and leaned into the turns the same way. He'd expected to wince as she abused his machine, but there was no jerking. He became aware of his groin almost immediately as, for the first time, he felt the effect of the clitty whizzer on his own genitals. And, for the first time, he realized how truly underhanded it had been to design the bike that way. He was thinking about that when her left hand reached for his left hand, which was draped across her abdomen, and lifted it to cover her left breast. ------- Bob did a lot of thinking on that short trip. Her unexpected skill at operating the bike was the first thing he thought about, in a clinical kind of way. She had obviously paid more attention to what he was doing than he would have thought. But all that was pushed aside when she made it very clear that she wanted his hand touching her in an intimate way. He'd already come to terms with her accusation, while he sat in the slammer. He was well aware that her blurted allegation had simply been her way of making sure he couldn't go anywhere. It had been stupid, childish, and brilliant all at the same time. It had also made it impossible to miss that she was completely intent on keeping him there with her. Now he wondered if putting his hand on what felt like a very warm and unfettered breast was her way of trying to apologize. That was silly, if it was her intent. He already knew how she was going to apologize to him, and it involved her lying across his lap with her butt bare while he tanned it but good. Now, though, he was out of jail and none of the nightmare possibilities involving an overzealous law enforcement organization had come to pass, and things could be discussed more calmly. In one sense, her placement of his hand brought relief, because at least she was trying to act in a manner that SHE thought was normal. That was crazy, but it was comfortable crazy. In a moment of impish impulse he slid his hand down to her stomach again. She was in a turn, so she couldn't use her left hand to put his back. What she obviously didn't expect was for him to slip his hand under the bottom of the shirt and slide it up to cup her naked breast inside the shirt. He tweaked her nipple for good measure. He felt her shudder briefly, and then she leaned back, as if to say, "That's more like it." Five minutes later she pulled into the hospital parking lot. She shut it down and, as he had often done, stabilized the bike while he got off. He stood, waiting as she got off and removed her helmet. She shook out her platinum locks, not quite looking at him. "S-sorry," she said softly in the sudden silence. "We'll talk about that later," he said. "Why did you bring me here?" "M-m-mommy w-w-wants to t-talk t-to y-y-you." "Susan? She's awake?" "Uh huh." Something in her voice sounded guarded, like she was nervous. "That's great!" said Bob as they started walking toward the entrance of the hospital. "How is she?" "Sh-sh-she's in p-pain. Sh-she w-w-wanted to s-s-see D-daddy and they w-w-wouldn't l-let her. Sh-sh-she g-got m-m-mad." Much more than that had gone on since Bob had left, but she left it unsaid. He'd probably find out about it soon enough. A security guard approached and stood in their way. "Ma'am," he said, his voice level. "I trust there will be no more trouble?" Bob's eyebrows rose and he looked at Jennifer. She was blushing. "N-n-no t-trouble," she said. "Good, because I don't want to have to throw you out. I mean with that scene you caused, and the police coming here and all that ... well, we can't have that kind of thing disturbing the patients." The man looked unsure as to whether or not to let them pass. He glanced at Bob, who stuck his hands in his pockets. He didn't know what was going on, but he resolved to stay out of it. This girl was getting too big for her britches, and if there were consequences to whatever she'd done ... well ... maybe she needed to face them. "I w-w-won't c-cause any m-m-more p-p-problems," Jennifer said meekly. The man finally stepped aside, and they got on the elevator. Bob pushed the button for the third floor, where the ICU was located. "What else did you do?" asked Bob. "N-n-nothing," she said. "Well it doesn't sound like nothing," he said darkly. She turned, suddenly, to face him. "D-d-do y-you hate m-m-me?" There was anguish on her face. Bob was surprised how he could relish the thought of getting that naked bottom exposed, so he could slap it bright red, and at the same time feel his heart go out to her in her obvious distress. "No," he said. "Of course not. Believe it or not, I'm trying to do what I think is best for you." "Th-that's wh-wh-what M-m-mom said." She looked dejected. "I j-j-just c-c-couldn't s-stand the th-th-thought of y-y-ou l-l-leaving." She stepped closer. "I n-n-need y-you." They were still hugging each other as the elevator doors opened. They had stepped out before either of them realized the car had stopped on the second floor. Some people got on and the doors closed behind them. They were waiting for the car to return when they saw a gurney being pushed toward them. The old man who had been Don's roommate was on the gurney. He lifted his head and looked at the pair. "I'm gonna miss all the excitement," he said, grinning. "This has been the best hospital stay I ever had." Bob smiled at him. "I didn't want to leave, but they wanted to put your mother in Don's room, so I said it was OK to put me somewhere else. I sure am gonna miss all the entertainment, though." "Th-th-they m-moved M-m-mommy d-down here?" asked Jennifer excitedly. "They just brung her in as they was taking me out," said the old man. "She looks like she's had a rough go of it, too. You're lucky they made it through, I'm thinkin'. You be nice to your daddy, young woman. It ain't respectful to yell at your elders, you know." His continued grin took the barb out of his admonition. He looked over at Bob. "They's already arguin' 'bout you, young feller. You might want to just lay low for a little while longer." "Great," said Bob dryly. "I tried to leave, but it didn't work out so well." The old man chortled. "I never had so much fun in my life as hearing them cops talkin' to Don 'bout you and this pretty little filly here. I thought he was going to try to climb out of that bed, until she admitted she'd stretched the truth a mite." The orderly pushing the gurney said they had to move on, and the old man waved as he was taken down the hallway to his new room. Jennifer was eager to get to her parents' room. Bob pulled her to a sudden halt, though. "What's this I hear about you having a car?" he asked. Jennifer blinked and her mouth fell open. "I comp-p-pletely f-f-forgot!" she gasped. "I was s-s-so worried about M-mommy and D-d-daddy that I j-j-just forg-g-ot! It's in th-th-the garage, b-b-back home!" "How can a teenager just forget about her first car?" said Bob. "I mean there's just something un-American about that! Your father thinks I knew about it and brought you here on the Babe Bike intentionally." "Well y-y-you d-d-didn't," she said, as if that was the end of the conversation and nothing else needed to be said. "Now, c-c-come on! M-mommy's in th-there!" Bob wondered if he should stay outside, but had no choice as Jennifer took his hand and dragged him into the room. They were faced with a stern nurse as they entered. "If there is ANY disturbance, I'll have you removed," she said firmly. "Family or not, I don't care. Is that understood?" Jennifer nodded frantically. Bob just stood there. "In fact, you may only stay ten minutes. These patients need rest. If this visit goes well, you may return at NORMAL visiting hours. Are we clear?" "Yes ma'am," said Bob, while Jennifer nodded some more. "All right then," said the nurse. She started toward the door and Bob had to move to one side to let her pass. Two other nurses were working on Susan's side of the room, hooking wires up and fiddling with an IV unit. Susan's head was turned toward the visitors. Don's bed was cranked up a few degrees at the head, and he was looking at them, too. He was frowning. "What are you doing here?" he asked, looking at Bob. "I told Jennifer to go get him and bring him here," said Susan. "Why on earth would you do that?" asked Don. "She had to get him out of Jail, Don," said Susan, clearly exasperated. "She had his motorcycle. What was he supposed to do?" "He's a very inventive man," said Don. "He would have done just fine." Susan looked at Bob. "We want you to stay here, with Jennifer." "When did we make THAT decision?!" complained Don. "When we decided that Jennifer is an adult now," said Susan. "That's when." "It wasn't adult to claim that he raped her!" said Don. He blinked. "Whose side are you on?" asked Susan sweetly. "Jennifer's!" he blustered. Susan turned her head as far towards Don as she could. "Well I know what she wants, and she wants Bob to stay. Now, I'm tired. I'd like to get some rest and the last thing we need is for our daughter and your best friend to get banned from coming to see us. So we're done talking about this." She looked over at Jennifer and Bob. "You two run along now. You can come back later, when Don is feeling better and isn't so grouchy." Jennifer was blinking her eyes rapidly and she reached up with both hands and knuckled them. Then she went to her mother's bed and leaned over. "Th-thank you," she whispered. "We'll talk about this later," said Susan. "Just remember, Bob has feelings, too. You two need to talk about things, instead of just going off on a wild tangent." "Ok-k-kay," sniffed Jennifer. She turned and went to her father, who was scowling. He looked at Bob. "I expect you to behave yourself with my little girl!" he growled. Jennifer put the tip of her forefinger against his lips. "I l-love you, D-d-daddy," she said softly. "B-b-but you n-n-need to b-b-butt out." She kissed him on the forehead. "No I don't," he insisted. "You may be eighteen, but you're still my daughter, and somebody needs to protect you from men who try to take advantage of you." Jennifer bristled. "B-b-bob d-d-didn't try t-t-to t-t-take adv-v-vantage of m-me!" "He brought you here on that motorcycle instead of driving you here in your car!" snapped Don. "Daddy!" Jennifer snapped back. "B-B-Bob D-D-DIDN'T know I ha-had a c-c-car, because I d-d-didn't TELL him I ha-had a c-car. When I f-f-found out y-y-you and M-M-Mommy were h-hurt, I c-c-called B-Bob, because I d-d-didn't know wh-what to d-d-do and I knew he w-w-would help m-me. I was s-s-so scared y-y-you w-were going to d-d-die. I forg-g-got all ab-b-bout the B-b-bug. I'd only d-d-driven it three t-t-times bef-f-ore those p-p-people c-called looking f-f-for the n-n-next of k-kin of my p-p-parents!" He gaped. "You FORGOT you had a car? You're only eighteen! That was your first car! Your mother picked it out for you herself! You can't just forget you have it. That's un-American!" Jennifer smiled. "Th-th-that's what B-B-Bob said, t-too. Y-y-you still n-need to b-b-butt out." She said, "I l-l-love you," again and then, before Don could say anything more, the young woman turned and manhandled Bob, spinning him around and pushing him out the door. "What the hell just happened?" asked Bob, as she took his arm and pulled him toward the elevator. "I f-f-fixed it with D-daddy ... about my c-c-car," she said. "No ... I mean about your mother asking me to stay." "Oh ... that. I t-t-told M-mom ev-v-veryth-th-ing," said Jennifer. "Everything?" moaned Bob. "I th-th-thought sh-she was s-s-still as-sleep," said the girl. "B-b-but sh-she heard ev-v-verything." "How much everything?" he asked. Jennifer stared into his face. "All of i-it." "Us in bed together, too?" Bob asked, feeling weak in the knees. "N-n-naked," she sighed. "And she still wants me to stay?" Bob was astonished. Jennifer came to an abrupt halt and turned him to face her. "I w-w-want you to stay," she corrected him. ------- Chapter 12 In the parking lot she held out the key to the bike, letting it dangle from her fingers. Bob looked at the key and then at her face. He looked around, thinking about what had just happened. Jennifer's mother, who apparently knew exactly what had transpired between her daughter and a forty-two year old man, who she also knew was a renowned womanizer and party animal ... was not objecting to that course of events. At least not yet. She HAD said that they'd "talk more about this later." That attitude in itself was astounding, but the thing that struck Bob the most was that she'd run roughshod over Don as well. And Bob couldn't remember a single time Susan had gainsaid anything her husband had proposed. Jennifer was standing there, waiting. "You wanna drive again?" he asked, feeling light headed. A huge grin split her face. "If y-y-you'll d-d-do what y-y-you d-did last t-t-time," she said. As she drove them away from the hospital, both of Bob's hands were cupping soft warm titties, under her shirt. ------- She had missed lunch during the police investigation. So she drove around, somewhat aimlessly, looking for someplace to get something to eat. He had been provided a sandwich and a diet Coke while incarcerated but, under the circumstances, hadn't been excited about eating. She pulled into the parking lot of a Golden Corral and Bob saw a man, walking out of the restaurant with a woman, glance at them and then do a double take as Bob slid his hands off her precious breasts and out from under her shirt. He ignored the gawking man and got off the bike. When she offered him the keys this time, he took them, and they went inside. Once they'd visited the buffet and were seated, Jennifer brought him up to speed on what he'd missed. She told him about screaming at her father for sending him away, and then having to run a mile or more to catch him at the motel. When they'd been separated there, she didn't know what to do. She said the police had made her follow them to the station on the bike. To drive it, she just did what she'd seen Bob do countless times on their previous rides and on this trip. At the station she was afraid to just change her story when the police questioned her, so she told them a slightly altered version of the true situation. She described getting the call, and asking Bob for help, and how they got there. Then, when she described the "attack" she wavered and said Bob probably misunderstood, because she HAD gotten into bed with him when she was scared about her parents' condition. Because she'd mentioned talking to her mother about "things," they'd taken her back to the hospital and questioned both her parents. Don had been truthful, saying that Bob had claimed that the situation had just gotten out of hand. Up to that point, the investigation had been coming down on the wrong side, as far as Bob would have been concerned. It was Susan who'd set things straight, asking Jennifer point blank if she and Bob had had sexual intercourse or not. Jennifer had collapsed in embarrassment, explaining that she'd only said he'd raped her because she didn't want him to leave. The cop had been disgusted and warned Jennifer that Bob could press charges against her for making a false complaint. Susan had immediately said, "He won't," and then the cop had started making noises about her riding the motorcycle, which actually belonged to the alleged suspect, which might constitute theft. "She's just been taking care of it, while this little misunderstanding got worked out," Susan had said. "She'll take it back to him, so it's there when he's released ... won't you, darling?" Jennifer had nodded, still crying, and the cop had given up. He'd made her say out loud, however, that she had lied about accusing Bob of rape, resulting in her blubbering about how sorry she was. While the policeman called in with the results of his investigation, Susan had motioned Jennifer closer to the bed. "Did you really ride the bike by yourself?" she had asked. That was the last thing in the world Jennifer had thought her mother would focus on, and it had shocked her out of her emotional outburst. She'd nodded and her mother had said, "Well how about that!" Then she'd said, "Go get Bob and bring him back here. Tell him I want to talk to him before he leaves." "B-b-but I don't w-w-want him to l-l-leave," Jennifer had moaned, starting to sniffle again. "That has to be his decision, baby," Susan had said. "You may have screwed the pooch with him." Jennifer had blinked and frowned. "Sc-sc-screwed the p-p-pooch?" "It's just a saying," Susan had replied. "It means he may be mad at you. He has every right to be." Jennifer had hung her head. The last thing her mother had said was: "Now go on and go get him out of jail and bring him here. If he says he wants to leave, just tell him I asked to talk to him before he goes, OK?" Jennifer told Bob she couldn't have gone anywhere else anyway. The patrol car followed her all the way back to the station. It was while she'd been waiting for him to come out that she'd decided she was going to drive, simply because that way she knew they'd end up at the hospital. Then she asked him what had happened to him. "I sat in a cage for hours," he said, "waiting for somebody to figure out you'd gone stark raving mad." "Oh." She blushed. She put her fork down. "S-s-so ... wh-what n-n-now?" He made her wait, while he kept eating. When she began fidgeting in her seat he finally relented. "I guess I'll stay." She relaxed visibly and picked up her fork again. "We only have one room now," he said, almost casually. "I cancelled the other one before I got arrested." She had the good sense to keep looking at her plate, but she still smiled. ------- After their early supper, they still had two hours until visiting time. "You want to ride around for a while?" asked Bob, expecting her to say she did. "I w-w-want to t-t-take a sh-shower," she said. "And ch-change c-clothes." He raised an eyebrow. "I g-g-got all sw-sw-sweaty r-running," she added. "Ahhh," he said. At the motel he told a, thankfully, different desk clerk about the additional change in plans. The woman returned the envelope, with the cash in it, to him, without batting an eye, once he'd shown her some ID. Back in the room Jennifer unashamedly stripped naked and padded to the bathroom door, turning to look over her shoulder at him. "H-h-help me?" she asked hopefully. Bob looked at her with serious eyes. "Have you really thought about this?" "C-c-constantl-l-ly," she stuttered. The thing going through Bob's mind as he removed his own clothing was whether Susan would put restrictions on them, later that evening. Maybe that had a little something to do with his willingness to play, just one more time, while he still could. ------- In the shower she just held him, at first. Then she wanted kisses, and then she wanted his hands on her ... everywhere. While she stood spraddle-legged and his finger slicked in and out of her pussy, she kissed him almost nonstop until she shuddered through an orgasm, whining about how good it felt. Then, before she'd even caught her breath, she sank to her knees and took him into her mouth, stroking his shaft with one hand and gently exploring his balls with the other. Some dim memory of Bambi Bangs Baltimore made her put both hands on his butt cheeks while she moved her face forward and backward, getting more and more of his cock into her mouth, until she went too far and gagged. Then, with his encouragement, she used her hand again, until streams of thick white semen leapt from the tip of his cock and painted her neck and breasts. As his penis began to soften, she closed her mouth on the knob one last time and sucked, milking the shaft with her fingers and pulling off at the same time. Bob had to lean against the shower wall as a result. Dried off and back in the room, Bob sank down on the end of the bed, sitting upright, while Jennifer went to her backpack and began searching for something to wear. "C'mere," said Bob, patting his bare thighs. She looked over her shoulder at him again. The look on her face was much older, somehow, than her chronological age. "Again?" she cooed. "C'mere," he said again. She sauntered over to him, her hips moving back and forth in an exaggerated manner, and was completely unprepared when he struck like his namesake, grasping her waist and lifting her off the floor. She flailed, squealing as he manhandled her over his lap. Her firm, white buttocks gleamed as she wiggled. As his hand descended on her bottom ... over and over again ... she felt first shock, then outrage, and finally just pain as her white skin took on a mottled, angry look. "This is for getting me thrown in jail," he said after the first two smacks. As he went on he added transgressions to the list. "And this is for riding my bike without my permission. And this is for getting me into this whole mess in the first place." His last two slaps were not quite so forceful. "And this is for making me fall in love with you." She would have tried to get away from him, initially, but he pulled her up until her stinging buttocks were resting on his thighs and put his arms around her. She was sniffling, and pushing at his chest, but her actions were clearly not intended to break free now. "You love me?" She hiccupped. "I'm helpless," he said into her hair. "I believe the technical term is smitten. I'm smitten with you." ------- Neither of them intended what happened next. Had there been some break, where either could have caught their breath or thought about things, it would have happened differently. But his admission of love brought on frenzied kissing, which led to them falling over to lie, somewhat uncomfortably and kiss some more. Because their legs were hanging off the bed, she crawled up to kneel over him. Gasping for breath, she broke the kiss and rubbed her breasts over his face. It was only natural for him to capture nipples and suck at them. He wiggled up, until his thighs were on the bed. His knees bent over the edge kept him from moving further, but he was now much more comfortable. She straddled him, lying on his chest so she could rub her breasts against him and still kiss him. Her reawakened pussy needed some rubbing, too, so she humped his stomach. When she shoved downward and her pussy ran into his also reawakened prick, she didn't even think about the consequences. She felt something blunt at her sexual opening and, wanting something in her, she pushed. The combination of a perfect angle, and the fact that she was overflowing with lubrication resulted in three inches of his penis being driven into her before her brain could register any sensation at all. She froze, partially impaled, and her lungs took in every bit of air they could inhale. Her eyes were opened wide as she lifted her face. "Jen!" he gasped, feeling the tight fist of her velvety pussy surrounding the front half of his prick. "Ohhhhhhhhh." All that air burst from her lungs in one long gust as her brain said, "MOVE NOW!" But the signals got crossed. She moved ... but it wasn't in the direction her brain had intended. Her arms stiffened and she shoved and, suddenly, her still stinging mottled butt cheeks impacted his balls. "BABY!" groaned Bob. His brain was having problems, too, with conflicting signals battling for top billing. She dragged in another breath and her body finally cooperated with her brain as she leaned forward. In that instant, her stretched pussy lips, unable to protect her clit any more, allowed that little organ to drag across the wiry hair above his penis. "OHHHHHHHH!" she groaned with her latest breath of air. Bob finally got some control over his own body and his hands came up and gripped her waist, to help her pull off of him. In a flash, Jennifer's thought processes flickered from pain to pleasure, and her brain, deciding that perhaps it had been somewhat hasty, told her that the pleasure was about to end if she kept going in the direction she was headed. "NO!" she gasped, and her arms straightened again, driving her lower body back down and fully impaling her pussy again. That she didn't crush his balls was primarily due to the strength of his arms, while he tried to keep her from doing what she had just done. "Pull off!" gasped Bob. "NO!" Her breath heaved again. "Jennifer!" he groaned. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do. She just wanted this new feeling to keep going. "Bob!" she sighed. And then she leaned down to kiss him again. His mind lurched again as her lips descended on his. It told him this was what he'd wanted all along. He liked doing this. Why was he fighting? She lurched against him, drawing forward and then scooting back down again, her movements unpracticed and ragged, but still doing the job. Then a moment of clarity interrupted as she lifted her lips to suck in another breath. "Jen, honey," he gulped. "You have to get off!" "Shut up," she said into his lips. She flicked her tongue out and rimmed his open mouth. She surged forward and then back again. "Ahhhhhhh," she sighed. "We can't do this, baby," he moaned. His balls were beginning to send him signals that something terrible was about to happen. "Yes we can," she said and then kissed him again. Inexperienced she might have been, but some things come naturally, and sliding back and forth on his bone, feeling the rush of desire for completion, her hips took on a more natural rhythm. As she humped, first faster, and then frantically, an orgasm suddenly popped up on the horizon. She raced toward that orgasm with her lips welded to his, just panting into his mouth as her nose sucked in air every once in a while. She got light headed as she realized it was really going to happen. She knew what it felt like when she got one with her own fingers, and she knew that it felt different with Bob's fingers, and she knew, somehow, that this would feel different. She couldn't wait to get there. Bob, on the other hand, realized that he was about to blow her full of very dangerous sperm. He had condoms in his backpack, in a special little pocket. He'd learned long ago not to trust to luck with strange pussy, or even familiar pussy, for that matter. But he hadn't dreamed he'd need one today, at this moment of this hour. His hands came into play again, but were foiled by the fact that she was sweating freely as her gyrations got more and more violent. Then she froze, and mewled into his mouth. He felt the contractions as her pussy rippled, orgasming around a stiff prick for the first time in Jennifer's life. Her mewls turned into grunts as her hips gave little spastic movements. Bob actually cried out as his balls gave up, sending scalding jets of liquid through the shaft of his penis, to burst into her channel, while her pussy muscles encouraged every spurt by trying to milk another one out of him. Nonsensical noises burbled from her lips as they slid all over his, and her pelvis began trying to fuck him again. She pushed with her arms and, suddenly, she was sitting bolt upright, her arms hanging at her sides while her hips jerked forward and backward in sharp two inch thrusts, and she felt like she was freezing and burning to a crisp all at the same time. Bob gave up. He knew there was nothing he could do now, except lie there and enjoy it. He stared at her writhing face, looking for any hint of unhappiness. Her eyes were wide open and she was staring right at him as her hips went a little slower ... and a little slower ... until they finally stopped. Her breath came out in a long whoosh and her rigid body began to relax, very slowly, as if she were an ice sculpture melting. Finally she slumped and her head fell forward until her chin was against her chest. She took a breath and raised her head again. They stared at each other for most of a minute, keeping their thoughts to themselves for the moment. Finally she spoke. "If I'd known it was going to be like that, I would have made you do this a long time ago." Bob blinked, and his mouth dropped open and snapped closed. "What?" she asked. "What's wrong? I liked it, Bob. I'm NOT unhappy." His mouth opened and closed again three times before he could speak. "You're not stuttering anymore!" he gasped. ------- Chapter 13 Jennifer paced back and forth, still naked, Bob's sperm running down the insides of her thighs. "The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain," she recited. It was only one of a litany of sayings she had repeated in the last three minutes. She turned to Bob, who was sitting up again, on the end of the bed. "It's true!" she said, her voice hushed. "I can say anything I want right now, and I don't stutter!" "It's a miracle," said Bob softly. "No it's not," she said. "It's because you made love to me." "Let's get something straight here," he said, holding up his hands. "I think it was the other way around." She flipped a hand and started pacing again. "It doesn't matter. I never felt anything like I just felt with you. I've never felt closer to another human being than I did with you, just now ... just a few minutes ago. I felt like my whole world exploded, like a star, and then came back together." Her mouth dropped open. "Did you just HEAR that?" she gasped. "I sure did." He smiled. Her excitement was contagious. "Tell me to say something else!" she yipped. "Like what?" he asked. "I don't know! I can't think right now!" She stopped, and turned to him. "Yes I can. YOU did this for me!" "Awww, come on, Princess," he said, feeling somehow happy and guilty at the same time. She skipped to him and climbed onto his lap, straddling him and putting her arms around his neck. With her face inches from his, she said it again. "You did this for me, Bob. You cured me." "I didn't cure anything," he said. "There has to be some rational explanation for this." She blinked. Fright suddenly bloomed on her face. "What if it doesn't last?" she asked. Bob felt his heart go out to her. "You stuttered for eighteen years. Now you're not. Ergo, you have at least eighteen more years before you have to worry about that." She closed her eyes for long seconds and then opened them again. "Do you really think so?" She grinned. "I'm still doing it!" He looked down. Sperm was leaking from her pussy onto his cock and balls. "You're leaking on me," he said. "And that brings up something else. I shouldn't have cum in you. We shouldn't have done that." She tilted her head. "You mean I might be pregnant? Do you think THAT's what cured me?" He groaned. "I certainly hope not. I'm in enough trouble with your dad already. Besides, that's crazy." He frowned. "When was your last period?" She blinked three times. "You can't ask a woman something like that!" she said. "That's personal!" "You don't get much more personal than what we just did," he said darkly. "When was it?" She closed her eyes again. It was obvious she was thinking. "I used my last tampon the day before I called you," she said. "To bring me here," she added. Her eyes glazed. "I can't believe I'm just talking like this." Her eyes cleared. "This is WONDERFUL, BOB!" She leaned forward to kiss him soundly, and he pushed her back. "Careful," he said, smiling gently. "That's what caused all the problems a little while back." "No it isn't!" she said firmly. "You said you were in love with me." A guarded look came into her eyes and her muscles stiffened. "Did you really mean that?" Bob's thought processes, at the speed of light, took only fractions of a second to gel. He didn't question what they looked like when they solidified in his brain. He knew that what he was about to say was, quite possibly, the most important thing he'd ever say in his life. "I meant it," he said softly. "I'm crazy. It's crazy ... I don't know how it happened ... but it's true." She relaxed and her eyes shone. "Maybe once wasn't enough," she whispered. "I mean for a permanent cure." Again Bob's thoughts flashed at light speed through his brain. There was the concept of a lubricious woman, a vamp, mixed with visions of her innocent face from younger years, and the thought of how the purity of her soul had taken on a golden sheen, as it was exposed to things adult. He was convinced she hadn't been injured by what had happened, and that her innocence, in large part, was still intact. But the change in her personality was something both shocking and engaging. She truly had transformed from a girl to a woman on this trip, for good or ill, and that couldn't be undone. "There will be time enough for that in the future," he said gently. "Assuming your father doesn't murder me." "He'd better not!" she yipped. "I love you!" "I love you too, Princess," he sighed. "Besides," she said, standing up. "You cured me. He can't complain about that." She turned and skipped toward the bathroom. "Don't be so sure about that," said Bob, under his breath. ------- She had done all the work, for the most part, so Bob just got up and used their damp towels to clean himself off. He heard the shower come on while he dressed. He was putting his boots on when she came out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over her naked torso. "It feels funny," she said. "What feels funny?" he asked. "Down there." "Oh. I'm not surprised. You're lucky I didn't hurt you." "You'd never hurt me," she scoffed. "Get dressed," he urged her. "We're going to be late and your parents will wonder what happened." "Well, they'll find out as soon as I talk to them," said Jennifer. "I can't wait!" He watched her wiggle into panties and jeans and, despite his recent relief, felt his penis twitch in his pants. "Don't you think maybe it might be a good idea to break it to them slowly?" he suggested. "Like how?" she said, pulling a T shirt over her braless breasts. "Like maybe you should stutter a little bit ... you know ... on purpose ... and then get better little by little." She laughed. "I tried that ... in the shower. It doesn't work. I can't stutter now, even if I tuh-tuh-try. See what I mean? It just doesn't sound right." She ran a comb through her still damp hair. "Besides, it scares me to try. I'm afraid it will come back any second." "What are we going to tell them?" asked Bob. "The truth," said Jennifer. "You made mad, passionate love to me and I'm cured!" "You can't do that!" moaned Bob. "You won't get past the mad, passionate love part before Don hurts himself trying to climb out of bed to kill me." "I'll think of something," she said. "Now, come on! We're going to be late!" Wondering why he allowed himself to be interested in women at all, Bob followed her out of the room and out to the bike. ------- In the hospital parking lot Jennifer got off the bike and took her helmet off. "It feels different somehow," she said. She stroked the seat, right over the clitty whizzer. "Before, it made me want to have as many orgasms as I could, or at least have them until I couldn't stand it any more. Now it just makes me want to feel good until you can do that to me again." "I'd like to remind you one more time that all I did was lie there," said Bob mournfully. "You got hard," she said, smiling at him. "You wanted to do it to me ... didn't you." He shrugged. "I've wanted to do that with you all week long." "Not before that?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye. He smiled. "Maybe I thought about it once or twice before that, but I certainly didn't give it serious thought." "Pity," she said flippantly. "That would have made a wonderful birthday present." "That's right!" he said. "I never got you anything for your eighteenth, 'cause I had to go off to help Matt." "Problem solved," she said, pressing her body against him. "As far as I'm concerned, this is the best birthday present I ever got ... even if it is a week and a half late." ------- Jennifer's disclosure of the change in status of her speech impediment was accomplished in a way Bob would never have thought about. When she walked into her parents' room, Don's bed was still in the partially upright position. Her mother had a pillow under her head, but the rest of her body was flat on the bed. Jennifer took up a stance, cleared her throat, and began speaking. "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war ... something, something, something ... It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this." She frowned and then went on. "Something, something, something that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom; and that this government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." She threw up her hands and said, "I can't remember most of it. I never could. I hope that's good enough." Don was looking at her like she was insane. Susan's mouth was hanging open. "What's going on?" asked Don, his eyes jumping from his daughter to Bob and back again. "Say something else!" said Susan, her voice rapt. "Dear mother, whom I love so much, what would you like me to say? I could tell you about the weather outside, which is balmy, or I could tell you what Bob told me jail is like. What's your preference?" "Jennifer?" Don's voice sounded haunted, somehow. "How?" came the same kind of voice from his wife. Then, "Did you memorize all that?" She knew that Jennifer could speak plainly when she was reading or repeating something memorized. The only other time she'd heard her little girl speak anything like this had been when she was awakening from the nightmare that had been her drug-induced coma. It had never been as flawless as what she'd just heard, though. "No, Mommy," said the girl, finally going to kiss her mother's cheek. "I'm cured." "But how?" moaned Susan. "It just happened," said Jennifer. Nobody in the room was buying that. It even sounded false to Bob. "What in the nine hells is going on here?" asked Don. He tried to sit up and groaned as pain shot through him. "Daddy!" Jennifer chastised him. "You just lie there like you're supposed to." "I can't believe this," whispered Susan. "Am I back in that awful coma?" Jennifer whirled. "It's not awful, Mom. And it's no dream. It's real. Bob did it." Bob groaned. "I'll just go tell the nurse we're here," he said, turning for the door. "Don't you go anywhere!" said Don, his voice strident. Bob knew the jig was up ... or was about to BE up, anyway, but he tried to dodge the coming bullet one last time. "Man, you need to make up your mind. First you want me gone, and then you say I can't leave." He tried a crooked grin on his best friend. "Stop!" said Jennifer. "All I can tell you is that I told Bob I was in love with him, and he said he was in love with me, too, and I stopped stuttering." It was probably the emotion in her voice that made it work, as crazy as it sounded. It explained nothing, really, but it resonated in the hearts of her parents. They knew the emotion was genuine. Don looked at Bob. "Is that true?" he asked. He almost sounded hopeful. "Pretty much," said Bob, unable to lie straight out to his best friend. Susan remained silent, but there was a thoughtful look on her face. Then, before anyone else could say anything else, she spoke. "Then we have something to celebrate!" ------- Chapter 14 Don was slow to accept the idea that it was OK for his best friend to fall in love with his daughter. He discounted completely Jennifer's comment that she was in love with Bob. She was just a kid. What did she know about love? His wife seemed to take the opposite approach, though she didn't push it. She sent Bob to get sodas, with which to toast, but that was it. Then she tried to get her husband to find something he liked on TV. "Why?" Don asked suspiciously. "Earlier today you were complaining that I watch too much TV." "I want to have a girl talk with Jennifer," said his wife dryly. "And, as you might notice, there's no privacy around here." "You're the one who insisted on moving in," said Don. "Don't be an idiot," said Bob, sotto voce to Don, making sure Susan overheard him. "Listen to the man," said Susan. "Now, turn on the TV and turn it up loud and talk to Bob about man stuff, because my daughter and I are going to have a private chat." Don groused while Jennifer grinned and closed the curtain around Susan's bed, but he turned on the TV anyway. He flipped through a few channels and stopped on Deal or No Deal, mentioning loudly what foxy models they had on it. He got no response, other than murmurings and whispers that were not addressed to the men. A few minutes later he looked at Bob. "What the hell really happened?" he asked softly. "Don't ask questions you might not like the answer to," suggested Bob. If his friend pressed, he wasn't going to lie. This was too important, even though he'd rather never ... ever ... admit to Don what had happened in that motel room. "Don't tell me a little hanky panky caused her to stop stuttering!" whispered Don tensely. "There had to be more to it than that." "It was very ... emotional..." Bob let it hang there and then decided to emphasize it. "Very, very emotional." Don frowned. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Remember back to the first time you and Susan fooled around," said Bob softly. A guarded look came onto Don's face. "Wasn't she different than all the others?" "What others!?" came Susan's voice through the curtain. "We're not eavesdropping on you," Bob called back. "So quit listening to us." "Men!" she snorted. Don grinned. Then he frowned again. "You're right. She was different." "It was more intense, right?" "I guess so." "Well it was very intense when we ... um ... talked about things." "And you really think that caused her to stop?" Don still sounded skeptical. "All I know is that, when we were done ... she wasn't stuttering anymore." "Done? What do you mean done?" Don's eyes opened wide and an anguished look came onto his face. "No!" he said. "Never mind. I don't want to know." Bob leaned back in his chair. They watched TV for a while. There was continuous murmuring on the other side of the room. Once in a while they could hear an individual word, or part of a phrase, but not enough to know what was really being said. Deal or No Deal was over, and Don was surfing through the channels again, when the curtain was whisked back. Jennifer was standing there. Susan's eyes were closed. "Mom's tired," said Jennifer. "We should go now, and let them rest." "You just got here," said Don, turning off the TV. Jennifer went over to her father's bed and leaned over to put her face in front of his. "There are only two men in my life, Daddy. You're one of them, and I love you. You'll always be my daddy, and when you're well again, I might let you try to tell me what to do. But right now, you're not well. I want to go home, and I want you to be home, too. That's not going to happen until you heal up enough to be moved. So you go to sleep, like Mommy, and I'll see you tomorrow." She kissed Don on both cheeks and his forehead, before standing back up. Don looked at Bob. "Kids think they know every damn thing. They think that once their parents get over forty they're senile or something." "Oh Daddy, don't be so dramatic," sighed Jennifer. "You know, Bob ... you're over forty, too," he said pointedly. "Oh shut up, Don," said Susan. "Nobody's paying any attention to you." Don got a sour look on his face. "Rodney Dangerfield had it right. I don't get NO respect." "Night, Daddy," said Jennifer sweetly. "Night, Mommy." "Good night, sweetheart," said Susan. "Remember what I told you." "I will," said the girl. She led Bob out of the room. They'd been gone for three or four minutes when Don finally spoke. "Well, how bad is it?" "She's not stuttering anymore, darling. I can't say that's a bad thing at all." "You know what I mean," he said. "Don't ask questions you might not like the answers to," was her response. ------- In the parking lot Jennifer leaned into Bob and he put his arm around her. "Can I drive again?" she asked. "I guess so," he said. "I want to feel your hands on me again." "I think you're turning into a nymphomaniac," said Bob, smiling. "Would you rather I stutter ... or be a nymphomaniac?" Bob thought about it for a few seconds. "Guess you got me there," he admitted. He knew she was enjoying herself when she passed by the motel and kept going while he fondled her breasts and rolled her stiff nipples between his fingers. All she did was go around a couple of blocks, though, before parking in front of their room. She turned the bike off, waited for him to dismount, and then put the kickstand down. She got off and rubbed her own breasts with both hands. "I can't believe how horny you make me," she said, her voice throaty. Inside, he used the bathroom and, in anticipation of what might happen, rubbed his genitals down with a washcloth. When he left the bathroom she was waiting for him on the bed, naked, on her hands and knees. She had been watching over her shoulder and, when he saw her, she waved her ass at him. She was a little awkward about it, but he laughed out of joy, not to make fun of her. "Where is my little Jennifer ... my princess?" he asked. The effect was ruined by the fact that he was as naked as she was. "She's around here somewhere," said the girl on the bed. "Can we do it this way?" "You've been watching movies again," he said, wagging his finger at her. "Just don't spank me again. That hurt." "Why don't we work up to things," he suggested. "Do some cuddling first." "Because I can't wait to see if it feels as good this time as it did last time," she said. "Part of the reason it felt so good last time was because we worked up to it," he suggested. "You talk too much," she said, rolling over. Her hand went between her legs and she began moving it around industriously. "OK," he said amiably. "I'll shut up. Can I watch?" "You're supposed to help!" she panted. He walked to the bed and crawled up on it, putting his hands on the bedspread between her knees, which she had spread as he approached. He stared at her fingers, dancing between her legs. "Are you really only going to watch?" she complained. "I'm checking out your technique," he said. "Remember, you're a novice at all this. I might be able to teach you a thing or two." "Bob!" she complained. "Like this," he said. He reached and lifted her hand. She moaned in frustration and then jumped as he fell to his elbows and forced his hands under her butt. He kissed her mons, where ash white hair fluffed. Then he slid his lips down and she gasped as he began eating her pussy with all the skill he'd developed over twenty years. Only his strength kept her from twisting and rolling away from his lips during the four orgasms she had before he let her rest. Her cries were music to his ears, though they were sometimes hard to hear because her thighs were trying to crush his head. He knew his beard was wet and glistening with her juices and, not sure how she might react to that, took the time to burrow his face into the bedspread before pulling his hands out from under her and rising. "I think you're ready now," he said, grinning. "Roll over, Lassie, Rover has something for you." She was lying limply, totally relaxed after her wild ride. "I changed my mind," she said. "I'm too tired to get up." She lifted her head and stared at him with glittering eyes. "On the other hand, I'm quite sure I need another treatment ... doctor," she said. He crawled up, aware that she was staring at his prick, which was fully erect and dripping. He stopped as he saw a drip fall off. "Shit," he grunted. "I have condoms in the backpack." Her hands reached to grip his shoulders. "Next time," she said. "Your stuff is already in me anyway." She kept watching as he fisted his prick and nosed the tip between her slippery pussy lips. He went slowly, pressing forward only enough to be able to feel progress. When the head popped in her she made a sound in her throat. "You OK?" he asked, beginning to pant. Her legs came up until her heels were beside his knees. She let her knees fall outward, wiggling her butt, and then slapped his hips when her knees came back up forcefully. He was watching her face, and saw the tip of her tongue protrude from gleaming white teeth. Then he felt her move and her heels dug into the bed as her abdominal muscles bunched, driving her pussy up. His prick was suddenly surrounded by hot pussy. "That's better," she groaned. "Oh shit that feels good." "I can't believe you're cursing," he said, lowering his hips with hers so he stayed fully inside her. "My princess never cursed." "Shit, fuck, damn, hell," she panted. "I don't want to be the princess right now. I want to be the queen. Fuck me, Bob. I love this!" Bob went to work on her then, sometimes holding himself up off of her so he could take long, slow strokes, and sometimes collapsing on top of her, pinning her to the bed so she was helpless as he made short, sharp humping motions that only moved his prick in her a couple of inches, but which crushed her clit in the process. She was loud, in both her appreciation and her release. During her first orgasm Bob thought she sounded like a singer, holding a high note. He almost laughed when, during her second he classified her reaction as sounding like a cat fight. He quit wasting brain power on that kind of thing, though, and used it all to evaluate just how to make this a night she would never forget. Still, there was one time after that when she sounded like a professional porn actress, gasping out that she was cumming and moaning in time with his thrusts. She was chanting that she loved him, over and over again, when he pushed in deep and flexed every muscle he could feel, associated with ejaculation, reveling in the sweet pain of his own completion. She would later tell him she thought a bear had snuck into the room, as she felt the hot spurts in her belly. ------- In the aftermath, lying entangled in each other's arms, Bob was almost dozing when he remembered something. "What was it that your mother wanted you to remember?" he asked. She jerked. "I forgot!" She struggled up onto one elbow and leaned against him. She kissed him gently on the lips. "That's from her. She told me to give you a kiss." "Why in the world would she do that?" he asked. "Because you made me happy, and you cured me, and because she's always kind of wished she could kiss you just once." Bob gaped. "Your mother wanted to kiss me?!" "She's always wondered what it would be like, kissing your hairy face," said Jennifer. "That's insane!" said Bob. "It's OK," said his lover. "I told her all about it." "You told your mother what it was like to kiss me?" "Among other things," said Jennifer. "What other things?" "Everything, actually." Bob choked. "Everything?!" "My mother and I have no secrets," said Jennifer. "She wanted to know what happened, and I told her." "I don't believe this," moaned Bob. "I'll never be able to look her in the eye again!" "That's silly," said the woman in his arms. "She likes you." "Yeah, but ... to think she knows EVERYTHING we did ... I just don't know what to think about that." "Don't think anything," Jennifer said, kissing him again. "She approves. Why do you think I was like that on the bed when you came out of the bathroom? It was her idea. She says that's a really good way to make love." Bob was quite sure he'd been transported, by some magical means, into an alternate universe. "You're teasing me!" he accused. "If you say so," she said, lying back down and snuggling into his armpit. "Maybe tomorrow morning I can find out if she was right." "Ohhhh," moaned Bob. "I sure like the way you did it this time, though," she sighed. "I'm going to want to do it that way lots of times." Bob decided he was just going to be quiet for a while. Eventually they both drifted off to sleep. ------- Most days of your life, when you wake up in the morning, not much has really changed. You have the same life you had when you went to bed and, while you might have plans for the day, you pretty much knew about what to expect when you went to sleep the night before. There are exceptions, of course. Say, for instance, you find out on Monday that you won the lottery, but you can't go pick up the money until Wednesday. Of course waking up Monday was no big deal. You didn't know you were a millionaire. Waking up Tuesday is going to be interesting. When you wake up Tuesday, there is the very real potential that you're going to be rich. Assuming you don't get hit by a bus that day or something. Tuesday will be a day full of very carefully made decisions. But waking up Wednesday is going to be completely different than any other day of your life. The whole world will seem different, Wednesday morning, because of all the OTHER potentialities that go along with what changed in your life on Monday. Even after that money is in the bank, waking up each day after that is going to be pretty much the same, in terms of what you think of as a "normal" day. But that Wednesday morning, when you wake up not only knowing you're rich, but knowing you're going to go GET that money ... well ... that's what they call a red letter day. When Bob woke up the next morning, with one of Jennifer's arms and legs thrown negligently across him, it was like that Wednesday morning. It wasn't that this had never happened before. It had ... both with Jennifer and no few other women. But prior to this day, his sexual relationship with Jennifer had always been ... potential. And, prior to this day, he'd resisted that potential. In short, Bob Jefferson had never awakened with a naked woman in his arms and entertained the thought "This is my woman." He wasn't shocked by this train of thought. Not then. He would puzzle on it later, wondering how it had happened, but on this morning the concept had already soaked into his brain and the thing he marveled at was that he was so lucky as to have HIS woman in bed with him. She was still Jennifer. She was still Don and Susan's daughter. But there had been a paradigm shift in the way Bob thought about her, and her relationship to him. And so, when he got out of bed to take care of his normal morning ablutions, and returned to find her, again, on her hands and knees, wiggling her naked butt at him, he simply accepted the change in his life and made love to her. Her sighs as her lightly bruised buttocks jiggled each time he slammed forward, and her whimpers of appreciation as he reached under her to pull and twiddle her stiff nipples, became what he would think of as "normal" from that day on. Only two errant thoughts disturbed the celebration of the change in his life during that particular session of lovemaking with his woman. The first was a conviction he formed in his mind never to spank her hard enough to bruise her bottom again. The second, as his sperm laced semen jetted into her receptive young womb, was that he was going to have to do something about the fertility he was currently thumbing his nose at ... so to speak. Of course, to be fair, the changes in Jennifer's life need to be acknowledged too. Imagine, if you will, all those candidates for Miss America, or Miss Universe, waking up one morning and finding out that, suddenly, there really IS world peace. From their perspective the world ... at long last ... is as it should be. Waking up that morning was a little like that for Jennifer Brazelton. At the risk of wearing out the analogy, let's just say that Jennifer didn't even play the lottery. The paradigm shift in HER life was more like finding out a rich relative has suddenly gifted you with a lifestyle that will let you exceed your wildest dreams. In this case, it was an "uncle" who changed her life in ways that, when she woke up that day, resulted in a world she almost didn't recognize. The man she loved ... loved her in the same way. Her lifelong stutter had been banished. Her mother — and she knew her dad would come around sooner or later — supported her newfound desires and celebrated the happiness that was no longer potential, but very real. When Jennifer woke up that morning, the world was as it should be. And, for Jennifer Brazelton ... that included the feel of her lover's hot jets of sperm-laced semen spurting into her young, receptive womb. ------- Chapter 15 In the shower, as they cleaned up in preparation for going to breakfast, she rubbed her naked front languidly against his. "It's too bad you can't build a bike that would let us do it that way while we ride," she sighed, kissing his chest. He chuckled. "Who says I can't?" That he was now completely comfortable with his woman in his arms became apparent when he added: "I built the Babe Bike, didn't I?" She looked up at him. "What?" His complete comfort took a brief hiatus as he realized what he'd just said. "Nothing," he tried. Her eyes narrowed. "Daddy seemed awfully interested in the fact that you brought me here on the Babe Bike. When I asked him why, he said nothing, too." "That's because it's really nothing," said Bob, hopefully. "Don't nothing me," she said. "What did you mean?" "I don't want to tell you," he answered truthfully. "'Cause if I tell you, you're going to be really mad at me, and I don't want you to be mad at me." "If you don't tell me, I'm probably going to be mad at you, too," she informed him. "Well ... OK," said Bob, finally. "But it was the Drunken Dwarf's idea, though. I want you to understand that up front." "Who's the Drunken Dwarf?" she asked. "He's a former SEAL, like your dad and me. He works for me now, in my shop." "Go on." "Well ... um ... we were sitting around one night ... you know ... just shooting the shit ... and I was talking about building this new bike, and Dwarf kind of suggested a part of the design that might ... um ... sort of make it fun." He swallowed. "Fun for who?" asked Jennifer. "Um ... for the ... um ... passenger, sort of." "Fun for the passenger," she said. "Yeah." Suddenly her eyes widened. "You mean ... like I've been having ... fun." Bob looked away. "Uh ... yeah ... I guess so." She cocked her head sideways. "Are you telling me that all those orgasms were ... on purpose?!" "No!" he complained. "Not for you, I mean. I never thought you'd ever ride it. And with all the uproar I kind of forgot about it until after the first leg of the trip." She looked thoughtful. "That was when you bought me that pillow," she said. "Yeah," he sighed. "You knew what was happening to me." "Um ... I figured it out. Just not in time." "How does it work?" she asked. He blinked. He could have come up with a dozen things he might suspect she'd say. Asking how it worked was not one of them. But she wasn't screaming at him yet, so he told her. "There's a rod that goes from one of the head bolts up to the clitty ... um ... I mean this little piece of metal that was cut out of the original seat. When a woman sits on the seat, her ... um ... girly parts ... kind of press against it. It sort of vibrates." "You said the rod was attached to the clitty," she prompted. "But then you stopped. Why?" She was paying AWFULLY close attention to all this, he thought dismally. "Well, you know guys. We're all about jokes and all that, so we sort of gave the design a name." He stopped again. "Yes?" "It's kind of a rude name," he said. "It's kind of a rude idea," she said. "What did you call it?" He sighed. "It's called the clitty whizzer." "Because it ... whizzes ... a girl's clitty." "Yeah ... I guess so." "And you knew it was whizzing my clitty all that time." "That's why I got you the pillow," he whined. "I didn't mean to whiz YOUR clitty!" "Whose clitty DID you mean to whiz?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't know," he moaned. "Whoever rode the bike with me." "So you got some poor girl to get on the..." She stopped and frowned. "The Babe Bike ... that's why you call it the Babe Bike, isn't it!" "Guys really do like to joke around," he said lamely. "So you got some poor girl to get on the Babe Bike, and you whizzed her clitty, and got her all excited, like you got ME all excited. What then, Bob?" He got frustrated. He felt like his mother was raking him over the coals for some juvenile prank. "What do you think, Jen?" he snapped. "The whole idea was to get her turned on. YOU know what that feels like, and what it made you want to do. I TRIED to protect you with that pillow, but OH NO! YOU decided you didn't NEED the pillow, because you were having so much fun!" She didn't act fazed at all. "How many girls have you whizzed, Bob?" "I don't know!" he said, throwing up his hands. "I don't keep count!" "And you took it to Chicago, to help your friend because... ?" What did he have to lose? He was already in such deep shit that a little more couldn't hurt all that much. "You never know when you might get lucky," he growled. "OK? I'm single, OK?" "That remains to be seen," she said. "What?" "Never mind," she said. "Did Daddy know about all this?" "Come on, Jen, don't ask me to rat out my best friend," said Bob. "I'm not asking you to rat out your best friend," she said sweetly. "I'm asking you to rat out my father." Bob had had enough. "Look," he said heavily. "The bike was designed by a bunch of guys who were drinking beer one night. It was just a hoot of an idea. It turned out to work pretty well, and ALL the guys have used it to take women for a ride, at one time or another." He blinked. "Not your dad. Just the guys who work for me and helped build the bike." He grimaced. "Anyway, it was built a long time ago and it didn't have anything to do with you. If I'd known I was going to bring you here, I would have taken another bike up there. If you'd have told me you had a car I'd have brought you here in that, for that matter. I did NOT put you through all this on purpose." "So why didn't you just tell me what it was all about when I started having all those orgasms?" she asked. "All you had to do was tell me and I would probably have used the stupid pillow!" "Look at me," he said mournfully. "I feel like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I was embarrassed, and I thought YOU would be embarrassed. I did the best I could, OK?" Her lips formed a straight, hard line. "Well, it wasn't a cookie jar this time, Bob, and it SURE wasn't your hand that got in it!" Bob's shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth, but there just wasn't anything else to say. Except, "I'm sorry, Jen. All I can tell you is that I didn't intend for any of this to happen." Instead of acknowledging his apology, she turned and walked out of the room, into the parking lot. When he followed her, he saw her on her hands and knees, peering up into the depths of the bike, under the seat. She reached in with one slim hand and felt around. Then she stood up and examined the queen seat. He realized that a thin outline of the clitty whizzer was visible through the upholstery, where who knows how many pussies had pressed the upholstery into the crack between the whizzer and the seat. She turned to him. "You're a troll, Bob. You're a disgusting, ugly, warty troll, who preys on poor innocent girls." Bob looked away. "It's a good thing I fell in love with you before I knew all this," she said firmly. "'Cause if I'd known you were such a troll, I don't think I could have fallen in love with you." She put a foot on the left foot peg and mounted the bike, settling into the queen seat. "Let's go," she ordered. "I'm hungry." ------- Bob, of course, was a little off balance. It's understandable. His concept of Jennifer had been based on watching her grow up for twelve years, during which time she'd exhibited certain characteristics. She'd always been intelligent and interested in life. He'd seen her passion before, and her relative lack of fear, say, for instance, as she began climbing trees. She'd always been a sweet, loving girl, with a good heart. All these things were still there, and part of Bob's brain knew that. But many things had changed in the last week, too, and they had changed radically. Jennifer's assertiveness level was one of those things. In the past, Jennifer had been known to be basically shy, but stubborn, on occasion. In fact, it was Bob who had a special talent for dealing with her when she was being stubborn. But, somehow, as her sexual horizons widened, unreasonable resistance to change or guidance had turned a corner and become aggressive action in pursuit of her desires. Added to that assertiveness was her sudden and unexpected ability to speak flawlessly. In effect, Jennifer Brazelton was a completely different woman who Bob, nonetheless, knew very well. It would have caught just about any man off guard. As a result, when Jennifer took on the attitude of a woman that Bob would normally have told to fuck off, he didn't take that approach. He didn't tremble or lose his machismo, exactly, but he also didn't react like he normally would. Basically, he just waited to see what she'd do. He knew, or at least assumed, she was pissed off. She'd SOUNDED pissed off. But there were also indications that she wasn't as angry as she sounded. And the part of him that recognized the significant changes in her life also recognized that some time would just have to pass before things shook out into what would become Jennifer's new "normal" behavior. Right now, she was all over the place, which made it difficult to predict what she'd do next. One example of that occurred while they were on their way to get breakfast. He was riding along, looking for someplace that looked open for a morning type meal, when she spoke into his ear. "Remind me to tell Mr. Drunken Dwarf that his idea works perfectly." His initial reaction was to grin and reach back to slap her leg in a gesture of familiar camaraderie. Then she spoke again. "And then remind me not to give you any sex for at least a month." The grin died, as his mind puzzled out what that meant. In one sense, it was obvious she was still mad. But she'd put a time restriction on it, which suggested not all was lost. He wasn't thinking about sex, though. He was just hoping that he could regain her respect. During breakfast, she acted completely normal, with the exception that she talked with the waitress for what seemed like a ridiculous amount of time about the options for having her eggs prepared. Bob chalked that up to her just being elated at being able to communicate without stuttering. It was a tumultuous hour. Out of the blue she thanked him for taking time off from work to help her get to her parents. Later she kicked his shin under the table and said, with a perfectly straight face, "Oops ... sorry." Then she talked about how much better her parents were already and, a few minutes later, kicked him again. He got the same insincere "Oops ... sorry," again. On impulse, he moved his feet, almost straddling the chair by bending his knees and resting his feet on the toes of his boots. Ten minutes later she kicked again, but only hit the chair leg. He almost laughed when she bent over to look under the table, but had his eyes on his plate when she looked back up. The weirdness factor stayed high for a while longer. On the way to the hospital, he felt her grip on his waist tighten slightly, and would have sworn she'd just had an orgasm. He didn't say anything, and neither did she. When they got to the hospital, she breezed in and went to straight to her mother, ignoring her father. She brought a chair up next to the bed and sat, holding her mother's hand. Susan's mending pelvis still required that she be flat on her back, but with a pillow under her head she could look at a visitor. They talked softly while Bob tried to figure out what to say to Don. Their conversation was a little strained. "How much longer are you going to stay?" Don asked at one point. "I have no idea," said Bob, truthfully. He'd put himself at Jennifer's disposal, but hadn't planned anything out. It was sort of an open ended mission, and so far he'd been flying by the seat of his pants. "What's the latest on when you guys will be able to move around?" "They want me for three weeks," said Don. "Susan will probably have to be here longer, but we don't know how much longer. They say they're going to start physical therapy with her next week, but we don't know what that means, exactly." "Hmmm," said Bob. "I guess it depends on what Jennifer wants." "You can't stay here the whole time," said Don. "It would cost a fortune." "Yeah," said Bob. "I don't know what we'll do. We haven't exactly talked about it." "What HAVE you talked about?" asked Don. His face twisted. "Never mind, I don't want to know." "Come on, Don," sighed Bob. "I told you I was sorry." "Now Susan's harping at me," whispered Don. "She says I should thank you. Can you believe that?" "Women," said Bob softly. "Who understands them?" "Turn on the TV, honey," said Susan from the next bed. "And turn it up please." "What now?" Don asked. His only answer was Jennifer standing up and whisking the curtain around her mother's bed again. Don sighed and felt around for the remote. Bob saw it hanging off the bed by its thick cord, reached for it, and handed it to Don, who punched a button. The TV came on and the two men were greeted by the smiling faces of Regis and Kelly. Both groaned. Don surfed to the Discovery channel. Neither man seemed to feel like talking, probably because there was some somewhat frenzied whispering going on inside the curtain, and both were curious about what was being said. Maybe ten minutes later, Jennifer emerged from the curtained cocoon. "Mom wants to talk to you, Bob," she said. Her face was passive, but looked a little strained. Bob got up and went to Susan's side of the room, passing Jennifer as she basically traded places with him. Susan looked pale, but smiled and motioned him to the far side of the bed, crooking her finger to get his face close to hers. She was obviously going to whisper. "You're going to need to be patient with her," she said softly. "Morning, Daddy! How are you feeling?" came the bright, chipper voice of Jennifer through the curtain. "She loves you, Bob," said Susan, ignoring her daughter's voice. "I feel pretty good," said Don. "And I know you love her, too, Bob ... don't you?" Bob nodded, just as Jennifer spoke again, in a loud, clear voice. "That's good, Daddy. I feel really good, too. I got my clitty whizzed REALLY nice on the way over here!" Susan's eyes widened as Bob's mouth dropped open. Susan reached for his hand and she gripped it. "Please be patient with her," she whispered. "I've known you a long time and I trust you. This is all so new to her and she doesn't understand yet." "What?!" came Don's confused voice. "You know, Daddy!" said Jennifer brightly. "We got here on the Babe Bike ... and I got my clitty whizzed on the way." Susan sighed. "You'd better get her out of here now," she said. Bob stood up. "Jennifer!" gasped Don. "Oh come on, Daddy," said Jennifer, less cheer in her voice. "I know you know all about the Babe Bike. After all, Uncle Bob IS your best friend." Bob leaned back down and kissed Susan on the cheek. She waved at the curtain and he pulled it back on his way to get Jennifer. "Jennifer ... honey..." Don croaked. "It's OK, Daddy," said Jennifer, standing there with her hands on her hips. "It would have been nice to know, but don't feel bad. BOB DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT IT EITHER!" "JENNIFER ELAINE!" barked Susan. "Do NOT speak to your father that way!" Jennifer shot a defiant look at her mother. "Do I have to tell Bob to spank your bare butt again?" snapped Susan. "What?" Don's voice sounded strained. "We're leaving," said Bob to Jennifer. "What if I don't feel like leaving?" she said, an obvious pout in her voice. "Bare butt?" Don's voice sounded hollow. "Then I'll put you over my shoulder and take you out of here kicking and screaming," said Bob. "And security will get involved, and we'll be banned, and I'll have to take you back home where you can throw a tantrum all by yourself, whenever you feel like it." "That's not exactly what I had in mind, Bob," said Susan. "I know," said Bob, still staring at Jennifer. "But I have to go with whatever tactics I think will get the job done." He took a step closer to Jennifer. "Get your jacket. We're leaving until you calm down." Thankfully, she didn't get stubborn on him. She snatched up her jacket and stomped out of the room. "See you later," said Bob, waving to the people in the room. As he left he could hear Don's plaintive voice, still trying to get answers to his questions. "He spanked her? When did he spank her? And why was her butt bare when he did it?" ------- Chapter 16 Bob didn't run after her. She was standing at the elevator doors, fuming, when he caught up with her. He didn't say anything then, or in the elevator, or as they left the hospital. At the bike he stopped and faced her. "I'm going back to the motel. You can walk or ride. It doesn't matter to me." "I'm not walking back there!" she snapped. "Well, the last thing in the world I'd want is for you to get your CLITTY WHIZZED AGAINST YOUR WILL!" he snarled. She got red in the face and looked like she might cry, but didn't. He sat on the bike, side saddle, and waited. "Can I drive?" she asked, her voice tight. "Not while you're mad," he said calmly. "You'll get a ticket, and the bike is the only way we have to get home." "I'm not going to wreck your precious motorcycle!" she said emphatically. "I know you're not," he said. "Because I won't let you drive it when you're in this kind of mood." "I hate you." "No you don't." "Yes I do!" "No you don't. Maybe some day you'll get around to that," said Bob. "But right now you don't. You know how I know?" "How?" she said sullenly. "Because your mother just told me so. Apparently she and I have no secrets either. So I know you don't hate me." She folded her arms across her chest. "Well I SHOULD!" "Are you riding or walking?" he asked. "I don't WANT to feel good right now!" she pouted. "Then don't." "You don't understand," she whined. "It works too good." "Well," said Bob. "It works too well." He thought he might have pushed her too far when she tensed up. Then she let out an explosive gust of breath. "OK, it works too well." Bob took a chance. "I'm supposed to remind you to tell Dwarf how brilliant he is." He got a grim looking smile in response. "You're supposed to remind me about that when I meet him, but thank you for reminding me that you don't get any sex for a month." "I can live with that," said Bob. "You have the right to be mad about it, but you should be mad at ME ... not your father." She looked confused for a second and then tilted her head, examining him. "I know," she finally said. "Good. Now, I don't mind sitting here, if that's what you want to do, but if you need some time alone to work through all this anger, I can go do something else." "I don't want to walk to the motel," she said. "Then hop on," said Bob. He got up and straddled the bike. He waited until she climbed on behind him before he started it up. Then he drove straight to the motel. ------- Once there, he realized that they were caught up in one of the common hazards of traveling, staying in a motel, and having down time. There was nothing to do. "I'm going to go do some laundry," he said, getting all his dirty clothes into one group. "You want me to do your stuff, too?" "You're not washing my panties!" she said truculently. "OK," he said. He left her there. It was tempting to see if she was watching him leave, but he recognized that as being self-centered and didn't turn around to look at the room. At the laundromat he found an old Reader's Digest and went through it while he did a pitifully small load. A young woman was there, about Jennifer's age. She tried to strike up a conversation with him, asking about his motorcycle and, for once, he was unhappy that the Babe Bike did its job so well. He evaded the problem by saying that his "old lady" had designed the paint job. When he got back, Jennifer wasn't there. There was no note, but he didn't worry about it. He took a little nap, and was awakened from it when she came through the door. "I went for a walk and a guy hit on me!" she said. "Can you believe that?" He rubbed his eyes. "I told you you were a babe." "A babe." Her voice seemed to bottle up more emotion than it expressed. "Is that all I am? A babe, to ride on your stupid Babe Bike?" "Of course not," he said wearily. "I told you the deal. I know it was lame and insensitive and all that crap. But sometimes that's what men are. We're lame sometimes, and insensitive. That's probably why I don't have a girlfriend." It was quiet for long enough that he was thinking about going back to sleep. He laid his arm over his eyes and then she chose to speak. "Bob?" "Hmmm?" "How do you feel about me?" "Right now?" He lifted his arm. "Right now you're verging on possibly having the potential of being almost a pain in the ass." She didn't laugh, or even smile. "You know what I mean," she said. He got serious. "Sweety, I really think this is the wrong time to have this conversation. You're pissed off, and anything I say is likely to get all turned around in your head and piss you off even more." "No it won't," she said. "Yes it will, Jen. Right now you want to be mad at me. I understand that. I even think you have a right to be ticked off at me. But the time to talk about ... us ... isn't when you're pissed off." "I'm not pissed off anymore," she said. He lifted his head. She'd sat down in a chair, and had one leg crossed over the other in that way that only women and gay men seem to be capable of. Her leg wasn't bouncing and she looked calm, if a little tense. He sat up, stood, and walked around to the side of the bed. He sat and faced her. "What do you want to know?" he asked. "Do you love me?" "Yes," he said, with no hesitation. "What does that mean?" "Mean?" He looked less sure of himself. Lots of things flickered through his mind, but, like most men, he wasn't used to examining those things too closely, or discussing them. "I'm not sure I can explain it," he said. He expected her to be unhappy, but she wasn't. "Try," was all she said. "Well," he said weakly. "You're smart ... and pretty ... and you make me laugh sometimes. You're ... I don't know ... you're JENNIFER, and I just love you." Jennifer rolled her eyes once, looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "When we're done here, and you take me home, where are you going to go after that?" she asked. He blinked. "Back to Atlanta, of course," he said, sounding confused. "And how do you feel about that?" "It's where I live," he said helplessly. "My shop is there. Where else would I go?" "I'm not going to Atlanta with you," she said firmly. He blinked again. "Well of course not," he said, feeling like he had just stepped onto ground that was likely to be mined. "So that's fine," she said, her voice flat. "You never see me again, and it's no big deal." "Stop right there," he said. "That is exactly what I was talking about when I said this was the wrong time to do this. I never said anything about never seeing you again. It's absurd to even THINK that I'd never see you again. You're twisting things all around, and all that's going to do is piss you off." She took a deep breath and seemed to be going through an almost physical struggle. Then she let it out. He almost thought he heard her counting. "How are you going to feel when you ride away from our house, knowing that I'm staying there and you're going back to your shop to work on motorcycles, and that you won't see me again for maybe months?" Bob, being a visual person, closed his eyes and imagined the scenario she had just described. He saw himself driving away and almost turned his head, right there in the motel room, to look back at what he was leaving. His eyes popped open. "Terrible," he said softly. "Why?" she asked, leaning forward. "What do you MEAN why?" he asked, his voice rising. "Because I'm LEAVING!" "And you're going to miss all the sex," she suggested. He drew in a deep breath and almost laughed. What she'd said was so absurd it was laughable. "Of course not," he snorted. "I can get all the sex I want pretty much any time." It was already out of his mouth when he realized how completely idiotic and insensitive his words had been. He expected her to scream at him. She leaned back in the chair and he felt like he'd struck her with his words. Her face didn't take on a look of anger, though. He was astonished to see that she appeared to be actually thinking about what he'd said. "Yes ... the Babe Bike," she said softly. He defended himself instantly. "I told you that wasn't about you. You weren't supposed to EVER ride it. It may have been stupid and juvenile and all that, but I never meant to hurt you or anybody with it." "That's what I mean!" she said more forcefully than she'd been speaking. "Why WASN'T I ever supposed to ride on the Babe Bike? What's wrong with ME? Why am I different?" The change of wind caught him off guard and he felt like the boom of a mast had just whipped around and knocked him silly. "You're Jennifer," he said helplessly. "So I'm Don's baby girl," she said flatly. "I'm the little stuttering girl you had to feel sorry for all these years. I'm not really a woman ... I'm just your adopted niece who you have to be nice to." "You're twisting things again," he moaned. "I knew this was a bad idea!" "Did you ever wish you could see me naked before you brought me on this trip?" she asked. Bob had plenty of experience using SCUBA gear to negotiate treacherous underwater currents. He knew the tricks of the trade to keep those currents from taking him out to sea and killing him. But the currents he was caught in now were something he'd never even thought about trying to fight his way through. He was reduced to simply stroking, in whatever direction he could, with whatever energy he had "Yes," he said. "OK, I'm not proud of it, but you've always been cute and sexy since you got into your teenage years, and there were lots of times I wished your swimsuit would fall off, or that I'd blunder into the shower while you were there, or something like that. But that doesn't mean I wanted to get you on the Babe Bike." "Are you sorry you DID get me on the Babe Bike?" she asked, her voice intense. "Are you sorry we had sex?" "How the hell am I supposed to answer THAT?" he groaned. "Truthfully!" she said, her voice rising. "OK, NO!" he shouted. "I'm NOT sorry, OK? It's been a dream come true. I knew it was wrong and I tried not to do it, because I knew it would screw things up between us, but somewhere along the way I got lost or something. In fact, I think I let YOU bully ME into some of this! I'm not blaming this on you, because I know it's really all my fault, but the fact of the matter is that waking up with you in my arms, that first morning, is probably the best I've ever felt!" "You mean when we just slept together," she said, leaning forward again. "Before we started having sex." He blinked. He thought he'd been pretty clear. "Yes." NOW she got up and paced. On the one hand he wanted to just sit there mute. On the other hand, she was obviously agitated again. "I really didn't mean to hurt you, Jen," he said softly. "You didn't!" she barked. "Now hush! I'm thinking." Bob wanted to fall back on the bed and magically become unconscious. Thoughts of giving up women completely flitted through his mind. Nothing he could think of was worth going through this kind of shit. He thought of combat. It was preferable to this. At least you could shoot back and kill the son of a bitch who was trying to ruin your day. She whirled suddenly and came to stand in front of him ... very close to him. He felt the urge to spread his legs when her knees bumped his, but didn't. "I'm going to be in agony when you go back to Atlanta," she said softly, staring into his eyes. Bob's jaw dropped. He dredged up the energy to close it. She looked at his knees, pressed tightly together, and apparently decided that if he wasn't going to let her between them, she'd just straddle them and sit on them. She rested her hands on his shoulders then, her face only six or eight inches away from his. "I'm not sorry about the Babe Bike," she said. "I feel terrible, but it's only because I'm glad we had to come here to see my parents. If they hadn't gotten in an accident, I would never have ridden the Babe Bike and I would never have had those feelings. And if I'd never had those feelings, I wouldn't have thought about you like I did, and realized that I've loved you for a long time. While you were wishing my swimsuit would fall off, I was falling in love with you and I didn't even know it." He opened his mouth again and she put a finger over his lips. "Hush, I'm talking." She removed the finger and went on. "Don't you see, Bob? This has been like fate or something. All these individual little things happened to lead us to this point. I couldn't understand what was happening to me, or why I had all these crazy feelings, but I knew I loved them. I WANTED to feel like this. And somehow I wanted to feel like that when YOU were with me ... like you said you felt the first morning we woke up together. I love the sex, Bob. There's no doubt about that at all, but I love that feeling of being with the right man and knowing he really loves ME even more. I'm pretty sure I can get sex whenever I want it, too, after you leave, but I'm going to be in agony because I can't feel like I feel right now, because you won't be there." She stopped, waited fifteen seconds, and then said, "OK, you can talk now." Her confession had been so far from what Bob had been expecting that he was still processing it. That feeling came out in the first thing he said. "I thought you were disgusted with me." "I was," she said. "But Mom explained it to me." "What?" his mouth dropped open. "She explained that you loved me before this and were too much of a gentleman to have bad thoughts about me, or at least to act on them." "Then what the fuck was all THIS about?" he asked, his voice rising. "She could have been wrong," said Jennifer, sounding injured. "I had to KNOW how you felt before I poured my heart out to you." "Jennifer, honey," he moaned. "I almost had a stroke!" "Well you didn't. So what are we going to do?" "I have no freaking idea," he sighed. "You're supposed to," she said. "You're the grown up here." His laughter was sudden and explosive. He knew she might think he was laughing AT her, but there was nothing he could do. He fell back onto the bed and flung his arms wide, as if he were surrendering. He was mildly astonished that she just sat there, watching him calmly. When he stopped laughing she pulled at his shirt, making him sit back up. "Is there any way I could ... maybe ... go with you?" she asked. Suddenly nothing was humorous and everything was very, very serious. "That's kind of a radical step," he said softly. "So is dying because I'm not with you," she said. "You wouldn't actually die," he said. "I'd feel like I was," she shot back. "Just thinking about it right now makes me want to cry." There was no way to avoid the dreaded "M" word. "Jen ... I've really never given any serious thought to getting married." "Me EITHER!" she yelped. "I never thought marriage was going to even be a possibility for me! I don't even know what it means!" "Your parents would have heart attacks if you just lived with me," he said. "I know," she said miserably. "You can go to college now," said Bob. "I know how you felt about it ... before ... but things have changed." "That's part of why I feel so crazy inside!" she moaned. "YOU did that. YOU made my stutter go away and set me free!" "We don't know that," he said. "I do," she shot back. "Nothing ever worked before, Bob. Nothing! And then I felt you love me. It was like you got inside my brain somehow, or in my body or something, and there you were, big and strong and handsome and you LOVED me, Bob. I remember feeling like I was finally a real person at that moment ... that I could do anything I wanted to. I felt like I could FLY if I wanted to badly enough!" "That's just hormones, baby," he said softly. "Then why do I feel the same way right now?" she asked helplessly. "I was so afraid I was wrong ... that Mommy was wrong ... that you DIDN'T really love me ... that it was all some kind of game with you. And when I heard you talking just now ... just a few minutes ago, I could FEEL your love and I knew I was just being stupid! I love you, Bob, and you love me! Why can't we just be happy together?" "It's more complicated than that," he said, with sorrow in his voice. "I'm a lot older than you." "I don't care about that!" she snapped. "It's YOU I love, not some fifty year old guy!" "I'm not fifty yet," he said automatically. "I know that!" she snapped. "But you will be in a few years, and you'll probably be like all those other old men who have to have Viagra to get a boner, and I'll want to be made love to and you won't be able to do it, and I'll be all frustrated and let the pool boy fuck my brains out or something!" "What happened to you not caring about how old I am?" he asked, grinning for the first time in what felt like years. "I'm frustrated right NOW!" she said, her voice loud. "I want nothing more than to get naked and feel your big fat body pressing me into the bed while you make me feel like I can fly!" "And you can't do that because?" He knew it was probably too flippant, but her recent speech had, in an odd way, soothed his fears quite a bit. "Because I told you no sex for at least a month!" she said tightly. "Was that before or after you decided I really loved you after all?" he asked. "I knew you loved me, you turd!" she said. "I just got scared, that's all." "Scared? What in the world are you scared of?" "I'm scared because you built a whole MOTORCYCLE just to pick up women so you could make THEM feel like they could fly!" she yelled. "I DON'T WANT YOU TO MAKE OTHER WOMEN FEEL LIKE THAT! I WANT YOU ALL FOR MYSELF!" Strangely, Bob was on much firmer ground, suddenly. A lot of what he was dealing with was jealousy. He hadn't recognized that, before, but now that he did, he felt much better. Jealousy he could deal with. "Then you'd better not even think about fucking the pool boy," he said. "Even if I can't get it up on command some day." His instincts were good. Now that she'd gotten through being mad because she WANTED to be mad, and her fears had been shown to be groundless, she relaxed and leaned forward to hug him. His arms went around her and she wiggled closer to him. "What are we going to do?" she whispered. "I was taking a nap," he said. "Want to take a nap with me?" "Bob!" she moaned. "Is there any reason we can't think about this for a while and THEN decide?" he asked. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere." "I AM tired," she sighed. Her emotions had taken her for a wild ride that morning. "Get up," he said. "I don't want to get up," she responded. "I can't get on the bed with you hanging onto me like this." "Oh, all right!" she groaned. "Why are you so difficult?" "I'm a man," he said as she stood up. "I don't understand why any woman lets herself fall in love with a man," she groused. "All you are is trouble." "You can sleep on the couch if you want," he said, smiling. "See what I mean?" she complained. "All I want is a nice, comfortable nap and you're trying to start a fight." He knew there was no way he could win, so he just gave up. He got into position and lay there as she crawled onto the bed and lay half on top of him, snuggling her face into his neck and using his shoulder as a pillow. "Do you really love me?" she asked, her voice sounding far away somehow. "You know I do," he said. She wiggled and moaned. "I know." ------- Chapter 17 They slept for two hours and, as sometimes happens, woke up about the same time. Neither seemed to feel like talking, but the tension was gone. Lunch was quiet, too, but again, there was no strain. Jennifer seemed a little distracted, as though she was thinking so much that she forgot to eat, once in a while. And, now that she had calmed down, it just seemed natural to go from the restaurant to the hospital. Jennifer walked into her parents' room and went straight to her father. She hugged him for a long minute and sat down next to him, holding his hand. "Sorry," she said. His smile was warm and said everything that needed to be said. Then she looked over at her mother, who was watching interestedly, said, "Hi, Mom," and turned her attention back to her father. They talked quietly about whether there was anything they needed her to do about insurance matters. The hospital had called the company for them and an agent had come over to see what was going on. Don said everything was all squared away, at least as far as the hospital was concerned. He knew less about the car, which he was sure was totaled and had been towed somewhere. "What about your stuff?" the girl asked. "Not really worth worrying about," said Don. "It would be nice to have the cell phone," said Susan. "And my purse." She sounded mildly disgusted. She found four or five other reasons why retrieving their property from the car would be a good idea, including that they'd need something to wear when they eventually got out of the hospital. On a roll, she started to remember other things that needed to be taken care of. "Somebody needs to call your work and tell them what happened." Bob grinned wryly and told Don to make a list, while he took Jennifer in search of the car. They stopped first at the police station, where he found out where the car had been taken. Jennifer's driver's license got her access to the car. She stood staring at it for a long moment when they first saw it. She was amazed her parents had lived through the wreck at all. Some of the roof had been cut off and Bob pointed out the places where the Jaws of Life had been used to pry bent metal apart. The impound lot attendant cheerfully forced the trunk open for them. Her parents' suitcases were almost obscenely unaffected by the crash. Even the cooler in the trunk still had sodas in it. The lid was ajar, but nothing had fallen out. Because all they had was the bike, it was obvious they would have to make multiple trips to get everything back to the motel. Jennifer decided that both suitcases could be tied on the bike if one was lodged in the queen seat and she could stay there looking for the cell phone, which had not yet been located, while Bob ran the stuff back to the motel. When Bob got back from that run, he was met by a triumphant Jennifer, whose clothes were stained and face was smudged. She'd actually crawled deep into the twisted wreckage to find the phone. Some of the stains on her shirt looked suspiciously like flecks of dried blood, but Bob didn't say anything. Bob had brought back a backpack for small things. They abandoned the cooler, but kept the plastic bottles of soda, as well as a few odds and ends Jennifer had found in the car while looking for the phone. One of those was the charger, which was still plugged into the cigarette lighter. Another was a book she thought her mother might have been reading while traveling. On the way back to the motel, Jennifer yelled in Bob's ear that the impound lot guy had flirted with her. She said it had made her feel good, and Bob reached back to pat her leg. Once back in the room, Bob turned on the TV while Jennifer got ready to take a shower. She bent over to go through her mother's suitcase. "She and I can wear each other's clothes," she said. "Now I have more to choose from." She pulled out a blouse and slacks. "Too bad you're so much bigger than Daddy." Bob was channel surfing when he heard Jennifer's gasp of surprise. He looked over to see her holding up a lacy black something or other. "I can't BELIEVE this!" she squealed. "I had NO idea my mother had any slinky underwear!" "That's not underwear," said Bob. "That's a playsuit." "What?" Jennifer looked confused. "She doesn't wear that under anything," he said. "She wears it to play with your father." "Play with my father?!" Then she got it and her face flamed bright red. "Ewwwwwww, I can't even THINK of that! Mom and Dad?! No way!" "Come on," said Bob, grinning. "Where do you think YOU came from?" "OK, yeah," said Jennifer. "Maybe back then, but now? On THIS trip?" "Why not on this trip?" he asked. "Weren't you just complaining that you were going to want to make love with me and I'd need Viagra?" "That's different!" she said. "Is it?" She ignored him, stuffing the teddy back in the suitcase, and then went into the bathroom. He noticed she didn't invite him to "help," but it didn't bother him. When she came out she looked like a different woman. He was so used to seeing her in jeans and a T shirt that the maroon blouse and tan slacks made her look older somehow ... more sophisticated. "You look good," he admired. "Thank you," she smiled. She put things in the backpack to take to her parents and they returned to the hospital, where they spent the rest of the day, eating in the hospital cafeteria while Don and Susan were served in their room. Again, the women kept their heads close together and talked quietly while the men watched whatever they could find on TV that wouldn't bore them to tears. ------- They got back to the motel around nine. As they walked into the room Bob asked, "So ... did you ask your mom about her playsuit?" Jennifer slapped at his arm. "Of course not," she said. "I couldn't possibly talk to her about something like that." "I thought she wanted you to describe everything we did together," he said. "She did," said Jennifer. "But that was about us, not them. Ewwwww, Bob!" Bob shook his head, sure that if he knew this woman another ten or eleven years, he still wouldn't understand how her thought processes worked. Jennifer put one hand on her hip. "So ... where are you going to sleep tonight?" He looked at her, his gaze level. "In the bed." "You can't," she said. "That's where I'm going to sleep." "Now, all of a sudden we have to have separate beds?" "If we sleep together I'm going to want to make love," she said. "What a shame." He grinned. "You can't have any sex for a month," she said, quite seriously. "Then we won't make love." She stared at him for a long minute. "You really think you could do that, don't you." It was a challenge. "Of course I could do it," he said. "I TRIED to do it the whole trip, if you'll recall." "That didn't work out all that well, now did it?" she asked belligerently. "Are you trying to start another fight?" he asked, smiling. "Of course not," she said. "But you shouldn't be able to control yourself if you really love me like you say you do." "Where did THAT come from?" he laughed. "Jennifer, my sweet, I DO love you, and I'll prove it by honoring your prohibition for the whole month ... longer if that's what will make you happy." "I just TOLD you I'm not happy!" she said, her voice rising. "I'm horny! Your stupid bike ALWAYS makes me horny!" "You're the one who made up the rule," said Bob. "I believe that gives you the authority to rescind it." "THAT'S not going to happen, buster!" she said firmly. "You have to be punished. I can't just let you get away with stealing my virtue by using the same machine you used on all those OTHER women!" "OK, then," said Bob. "What I think we have here is a failure to communicate. Sweetheart, I need you to understand in no uncertain terms that you've ALREADY punished me, you are punishing me NOW, and I fully expect you to KEEP punishing me for twenty-nine more days. I am INTIMATELY aware that I'm being punished. OK?" She seemed to dither silently for a few seconds and then stomped one foot and said, "Good!" ------- Chapter 18 Bob found a movie to watch, while Jennifer moved around the room, no longer talking to him. At one point she disappeared into the bathroom, but he didn't give it much thought. That changed when she came out. She was wearing her mother's black teddy. "This is just obscene!" she said, arching to look at her behind. She appeared to be trying to see what it looked like on her. Bob wasn't fooled. He knew immediately that if she'd put the thing on in the bathroom, she'd examined the results closely already. She turned her back to him. "Just LOOK at this!" she said over her shoulder. "My MOTHER bought a THONG! My whole butt is showing!" She turned to face him again, spreading the short jacket apart. "And just look at this bra. It doesn't even cover my boobs! It just goes under them. You can SEE my nipples!" "Your mother has excellent taste," said Bob, feeling his prick come to life. At the same time, he knew she was teasing him. He found that very interesting. He decided to tease back. "I bet Susan looks like dynamite in that thing. Don's a lucky guy." She stomped one foot again. He watched interestedly as her breasts, above the demi-bra, jiggled. He noticed her nipples were erect and flushed. He suspected she'd been playing with them in the bathroom. "You'd better NOT be thinking about my mother ... naked ... wearing this!" she said. "Well, if she was wearing that she wouldn't actually BE naked," said Bob, reasonably. He needled her a little more. "I mean I'd want to GET her naked ... but she wouldn't BE naked." "BOB!" wailed Jennifer. "You are SUCH an asshole!" Bob sighed. "It pains me to hear such nasty words issue from the mouth of my beautiful princess. I fear I have, in fact, soiled you beyond redemption." She jumped on that. "That's true!" she said. "I NEVER cursed until you came along and ruined me." An impish look flashed in her eyes. "Asshole!" she added. "Careful, little girl," warned Bob. "You're playing in the big leagues now. Don't bite off more than you can chew." "I'm not going to chew anything!" she said, striking a pose and thrusting her breasts at him. "ESPECIALLY not that nasty old penis you ruined me with." She paused just long enough and added: "Asshole." Bob rolled up onto one elbow. "I get it," he said softly. "You want another spanking ... for having a potty mouth." She looked alarmed and backed up two steps. "No I don't!" "Well if you call me asshole one more time, you're going to get an encore," he warned. "No I'm not!" she shouted. "If anything, YOU should get a spanking!" "You think you're woman enough to give me one?" he growled. "If you weren't such an asshole I wouldn't HAVE to make you let me give you one!" she yipped. "You'd LET me do it because you know you DESERVE IT!" Bob was up off the bed so fast that Jennifer actually screamed as she jumped back. But he didn't grab her. Instead he went to the mirror above the credenza in the room and leaned on the furniture to stare at his own reflection. "Did she just call you an asshole again?" he asked his reflection. "After you just TOLD her what would happen if she did?" He looked over at Jennifer's reflection and flashed a feral grin. She held up both hands, palms out to ward him off. "No, Bob!" she moaned, looking frightened. "I didn't mean it. It just slipped out. You can't spank me again!" He whirled. "Just watch me," he said, hunching his shoulders. She actually ran for the door to the room and had her hand on the knob when she remembered how she was dressed. She whirled to put her back against the door. "Noooooooooo!" she wailed. "I warned you." "Bob, it HURT last time!" she said, tears filling her eyes. "Then it's going to hurt more this time," he said, taking a step towards her. If you think you can ban me from sex for a month, and then come out here and tease me like a slut AND call me names ... well sweet thing, you need to learn the error of your ways." "Bob ... NO!" she gasped. A hunted look came into her eyes. Then, with no warning whatsoever, she darted to one side and flashed by him. He had time only to reach and grasp. The flimsy jacket tore and came away in his hand. She leapt on the bed, now clad only in what was basically a g-string and a bra designed to hold up breasts much heavier than hers. "Ooooo, you're going to be in SO much trouble when my mother finds out you ripped her outfit!" she said, almost gleefully. Bob looked at the lacy cloth in his hand, and then at the girl who was practically dancing on the bed. "You think she'll be interested to find out who I ripped it off of?" "No!" She looked so suddenly terrified again that Bob didn't buy it. In a flash, he understood she was playing some kind of game with him ... a game she hadn't told him she was playing. His mind supplied him with a game she COULD be playing ... but he'd have to be careful. "Princess," he said calmly. "Not only am I going to spank that pretty bottom of yours, I'm going to fuck your socks off." The look on her face changed again, to one of poorly disguised anticipation. "No you're not," she panted. "No sex for a month, Bob." "I don't think you understand," he said, taking a step toward her. "That was before you teased me, and called me names, and got me in trouble with your mother." He took another step toward the bed. "You keep away!" she warned. She bent at the waist and her hands came up like claws. "You're not going to be able to sit down for a week," he growled. His next step was a quick one, almost a lurch. He had to keep the step short so as not to actually reach the bed. Her face showed a mixture of fear tinged with something that looked suspiciously like elation. His quick movement seemed to make springs uncoil in her body, though, and she shrieked and turned to jump. Her head almost hit the ceiling and she landed on the balls of her feet, whirling to face him again. "I'll kick you right in the balls!" she warned. "Try it," he said gruffly. He moved around the end of the bed so she'd have an escape route. She took it, jumping frantically up on the bed to avoid his outstretched hands. He felt like he was hamming up the role of Frankenstein's monster as he lumbered after her, crawling onto the bed as she scampered toward the bathroom. He realized she was too caught up in the game as she cornered herself in that part of the room and then his jaw dropped when she darted into the bathroom and slammed the door. He heard the lock click. "Ha!" she shouted through the door. One look at the doorknob told him all he needed to know. He got in his backpack and pulled out the multi-tool he carried on trips. He pried the awl blade out and compared it to the hole in the doorknob, which he knew was an emergency entry feature of the knob. Very quietly he disrobed. He was pretty sure the game was going well. Her dash into the bathroom had given him pause, but then she yelled, "Asshole!" through the door and he knew things were still fine. She thought it was safe to tease him from in there. As silently as possible he inserted the awl into the hole in the knob and pushed. He felt a spring resist his efforts and put his hand on the knob. It gave and then stopped as he felt the resistance of her hand on the other side. Giving his wrist a flick, he easily overpowered her and pushed the door open as she shrieked again. She retreated to the shower and cowered there, as she saw he was naked. He stopped and stood, just looking at her. He was about half hard. He reached for his cock and slowly stroked it. "I am going to fuck you so deep you'll taste it in your mouth," he growled. "No!" she panted "Look what you do to me, you little tease." He took his hand away from his prick, which now stood straight out, almost completely hard. "Keep away!" she moaned. Her hands flailed at him as he charged in, no longer moving slowly. He pushed his shoulder against her stomach, grabbed her thighs and stood up with her slung over his shoulder. She wiggled and kicked, shrieking like she was being killed. "Don't hurt yourself," he said in his normal voice. "You're going to kick something and break a toe if you're not careful." "I HATE YOU!" she gasped, unable to get a full breath because of the pressure on her diaphragm. "I know how much you hate me," he said. "Just wait until I spank that pretty bottom of yours bright red." "Noooooo," she wailed. "I'm sorry, Bob! Please don't spank me again! I mean it! It HURT last time! Pleeeeeeaaaaasse!" He noticed that while her vocal resistance had increased exponentially, her feet had quit kicking. He thought that was a good sign. Then, when he got her out of the bathroom, she almost got loose when she began flailing again. He grinned. He tossed her onto the bed and his hands were at the waistband of the thong panties before she landed from her first bounce. "We're not going to need these," he said in an exaggerated growl. "DON'T TEAR THEM!" she wailed. She went still and lifted her butt just enough to let him get them around her thighs, and then lifted one foot. As he pulled the flimsy thong off, that foot it lashed out and just missed his chin. The instant question was whether she'd missed on purpose ... or not. Leaving the panties hanging from her other ankle, he grasped her waist and pulled. She cried out as he rolled them both, pulling her across his lap. He gazed down at her bare butt arching in front of his eyes. "NO, BOB, I'M SORRY, I MEAN IT!" she sobbed. "DON'T SPANK ME AGAIN, BOB, REALLY, I'M NOT PLAYING, I'M SORRY I TEASED YOU, PLEEEEASE DON'T SPANK ME AGAIN!" Instead of smacking her round bottom, though, he slid his hand over her smooth skin, enjoying the baby soft texture. She relaxed a little and he kept stroking, long enough that she actually began to calm down. Still, she reached back and tried to cover her butt with one hand, as if she were afraid all of this was simply the calm before the spanking storm. "Please," she begged. "I'm sorry. Really." "I should spank you," he said heavily. "Please don't," she begged. "You called me an asshole." "I'm sorry," she said contritely. "Hmmmm," he said, lifting his hand to wet his index finger in his mouth. "Speaking of assholes ... that's something we've never experimented with." "What?!" Her tone convinced him she wasn't playing any more. He wormed his wet finger into the crack of her butt and diddled her rosy bud, pressing the tip inward enough to almost ... but not quite ... penetrate. She went completely rigid for perhaps two seconds, and then let out a shriek that sounded completely genuine, as she began struggling so hard that even Bob had a hard time holding onto her. With a wrench of her abdominal muscles that surprised him, she flipped face up on his lap. She sat up and her hands grabbed for his ears, the fingernails digging painfully into the back of them. "Don't you fucking DARE!" she snarled. "That is NASTY, Bob Jefferson!" "Some girls like it," said Bob, trying not to wince. She might actually be drawing blood. And if she wasn't, she soon would be. "Not THIS girl!" she snarled. "You're not the boss of me," he said in a whiny voice. His change in attitude disarmed her and she let the pressure off his ears enough that he was able to shake his head loose. Then he had her by the waist again and stood, while turning, to dump her back on the bed. This time, when she bounced, he caught her ass in his hands and buried his face between her legs. "NO!" she shouted. He thought about warning her that her complaints might be leaving the room, which could only end badly, but she tasted so good that he just mooshed his face around in her pussy, licking and sucking instead. Her next "NO!" was much less emphatic and a lot softer. "I'm not going to let you make love to meeeee," she whined. He did raise his head this time, just long enough to say, "Baby, I'm going to fuck you, not make love to you." He went back to work, and before long her fingers were in his hair, pulling it painfully toward her. "Ohhhhh I can't believe you're making me do this," she moaned. He spat her clitty out of his mouth and raised his head one more time. "You want me to stop? I can stop. Just say the word." Her head lifted and her eyes were wide. "No WAY!" she gasped. Pulling his hands out from under her was easy, because her hips were still writhing from his previous attention. Her mouth opened in shock as he stood up. He just stared at her and licked his lips. He started jacking his prick slowly. "I can finish this way," he said softly, quickening his hand. He saw the conflict in her face. She really WAS shocked that he had enough control to just stop like that. Then something changed very subtly in her face. She looked into his eyes. "Asshole!" she whispered. It flipped a switch in him and he was on her like a bear. She reacted when she saw the look in his eye, but she was too slow. He swarmed back onto the bed, reaching for and capturing her ankles, lifting them so high that her butt came off the bed. She tensed her legs, but it did no good, and he spread them easily. Putting her ankles on his shoulders he leaned forward, folding her up. Her arms went out in an attempt to stabilize herself as his face loomed over hers. "Now I'm going to fuck you," he said softly. "No you're not," she gasped. It was hard to breathe in this position and she was starting to feel lightheaded. He lifted one hand and reached down. She felt the tip of his prick sliding around in her slippery slit and realized how helpless she truly was. "Yes ... I am," he said in a soft growl. His entry was fast and hard. Both of them groaned, and only the fact that she WAS ready for this saved them both from pain as he powered deep into her pussy with one thrust. Her grunt expelled what little air had been left in her lungs by being folded so tightly. She felt dizzy and the edges of panic rushed at her. Suddenly he was pounding her and she felt like her brain was bouncing against the inside of her skull. The shock of being taken like this, with no hint of gentleness, wore off as her eyes met his and she saw hunger in them that made her feel like she was actually being consumed. She had wanted to be forced, so she wouldn't have to admit that she couldn't possibly go a whole month without him. Making him lose control also had the added benefit of being able to say she hadn't backed down. The problem was that she was fully aware, by this time, that he DID have control, both over her AND himself. He'd said he was going to fuck her so deep she'd taste him and, doubled over like this, she felt him hitting places in her that had never been touched. He'd also said SHE was going to be punished. Now, as she struggled to get enough air in her lungs to stay conscious, she wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake. She'd never seen him like this. Then, suddenly, he was moving, and her legs flopped off his shoulders, to land limply on the bed on either side of him. At the same time, his prick, still deep inside her, seemed to hold her hips up, as if they were suspended by the thing penetrating her. She dragged in as much air as she could, while she felt him manipulating her body again, closing her legs and straddling them. His hands came to her wrists and held them above her head. With her legs closed like this, he felt huge inside her, but she didn't mind, because at least she could breathe. His lips, hovering over hers, spoke softly. "I love this. I love you. You're mine, and you're ALL mine." Then he began stroking, long and slow. She still couldn't move, but this time the position they were in made his long, hard cock slide directly against her clit and suddenly electric zings began registering in her brain. He lowered his face to one of her breasts and she felt him bite her nipple ... almost too hard, but not quite. In the midst of the mixture of pain and pleasure, Jennifer came to an understanding that she might never have realized in any other way. She was helpless in a way that was both frightening and exhilarating. She knew he truly could do anything he wanted with her at this moment. She WAS being fucked, and there was nothing she could do about it. This was a side of Bob she could never have imagined. As the orgasm she could feel stalking toward her began to make it harder and harder to think, she had a flash of comprehension. In a way, she could now understand what it must have felt like for the men her father and Bob had fought against—to know that they had very little chance of surviving, unless they surrendered, instantly and unconditionally. Then her pussy began spasming and she groaned harshly in welcome. He bit her other nipple, pulling it away from her breast with his teeth. The jolt of sweet pain felt like a blast of heat that threatened to burn her to a crisp. She sobbed with a mixture of release and terror as ecstasy washed through her. In the midst of that he began moving again, releasing her wrists and forcing one knee and then the other between her legs again. Her legs sprang open in complete surrender to his entry. Her hands went to his shoulders, but only to rest there ... to touch him. She arched her hips and, somehow, his knees slid under her butt. He fell forward, his arms going under her shoulders, his hands gripping them and pulling down. In this position she was just as helpless as she'd been before, though in a different way. He was pulling her onto his skewering prick and she felt like she was in the embrace of some giant stone figure. The tip of his prick pressed hard into her cervix and she felt pain from that, but that pain was almost welcome. She felt like they had flowed together to become one living thing. "Ohhhhh," he groaned softly in her ear, and she felt the blossom of heat from his prick that meant he was spurting. His hips gave small spastic jerks as that ball of heat got bigger and bigger in her belly, until it met the heat that was filling the rest of her body as her orgasm saturated her very bones with an incredible feeling of completion. Her last conscious thought before she surrendered to the feelings was that, while she couldn't move at all, she felt more free than she'd ever felt in her entire life. ------- Jennifer lay on top of her lover. When he'd finished dominating her, he'd rolled over, leaving her suddenly free to escape. She hadn't wanted to, though, and lay on him like a blanket, limp and warm. Neither had said anything as they caught their breath and let their heart rates slow. Jennifer's mind was wandering, while at the same time registering the feel of his flesh against hers and the hand that was resting on her right butt cheek. That cheek didn't hurt right now, and she took time to be thankful for that. "You hear them talk in the movies about makeup sex," she whispered. "Was that makeup sex?" "I think so," he said. "Asshole." She giggled, thinking she'd cleverly indicated she wanted to do this again sometime. She jumped and yelped, as his hand rose and fell again, hard, on the very butt cheek she'd so recently been thinking of. ------- Chapter 19 The rest of the week seemed to drag, in the sense that none of them had spent this much time with each other in years, and they soon ran out of things to talk about. Some subjects might have provided more fodder for discussion, but those subjects were avoided, at least in the hospital room. But the week was also glorious, at least for Jennifer. Every day, she told Bob he couldn't have sex and every day, he made love to her for hours. It got to the point where, one day, she said, "Remember, Bob, NO sex!" and his response was "Are you horny AGAIN? I think you might have traded your stutter for nymphomania!" She just ignored him and got naked. Then, because he hadn't, she struggled to get his clothes off. He was soft, and she complained about that before taking him into her mouth. By now she had lots of practice and she soon had his prick straining upward. Still he didn't move, but she didn't care, mounting him like a horse and riding her way to two lusty orgasms. Then, because of a dream she'd had the night before, when she felt him swell, she hopped off and, for the first time, drank his semen, sucking the tip of his cock like it was a straw. She hadn't been sure she'd like it, but decided it wasn't so bad after all. Bob groaned his way through the whole thing, raising his head to look down at her. "What was that all about?" he gasped. "I had this crazy dream," she said. "What dream?" "I was pregnant," she said. "And I mean REALLY pregnant. I was out to here." She held her hand away from her stomach as far as she could reach. "I stuck out so much that I couldn't stand up. I kept falling over ... you know, like one of those blow up clowns that you punch and it falls over and then rolls back up? Well, it was the opposite with me. I fell over and just rolled around on my belly, until somebody came along and stood me back up. It was awful." She licked her lips and swallowed one more time. "It's getting kind of close to being dangerous to let you just squirt in me." He dropped his head and sighed. He had no idea when it had happened, but he'd just given up on the idea of protecting her from being knocked up. He felt guilty about that, but he was also painfully aware that he was addicted to trying to breed this woman. His orgasms were so much stronger and more protracted with her than they'd been with any woman he could remember. But he was quite sure that getting her pregnant was the worst thing he could possibly do, because it would remove so many of her options for life. Part of Bob Jefferson was firmly convinced that Jennifer would, some day, become attracted to a man closer to her own age. He knew that would be a bittersweet time for him — bitter because he'd lose the physical relationship with her, but sweet because she deserved to be gloriously happy. Now he resolved to start using condoms. He hoped it wasn't too late already. "I'm glad that one of us is smart enough to know that getting you pregnant isn't a good idea," he said. "Yeah," she sighed. She also thought, "Not yet," but didn't voice it. If she had, things would have gotten very interesting at that moment. Because she didn't, though, they got interesting much later. ------- The question of what they were going to do in the future was still unresolved. It was fairly easy for both Bob and Jennifer to leave it that way, because they spent all their time together. It's easy to ignore the future when you're living in the present. It was Don who ratcheted up the tension. It happened on the sixth day Bob and Jennifer were visiting the hospital. No one had talked about how long they were actually going to stay, though everyone knew that they couldn't stay forever. Don had been distracted by what was happening to his little girl. She had changed so much in the short time he'd been in the hospital he couldn't wrap his mind around it. It wasn't just the fact that her stuttering had magically stopped. That was crazy enough, but other things were vying for his attention, too. She had matured ... somehow ... in ways that he knew were there, but couldn't put his finger on. Susan wasn't telling him much, except to say that everything was under control. He'd insisted on knowing what she'd meant about Bob spanking Jennifer's bare butt again, and she'd simply told him that Jennifer had thrown a tantrum and Bob had spanked her, plain and simple. "On her bare butt?!" he'd almost yelled. "Don!" Susan had said firmly. "Do you want your daughter to be happy?" "Of course I do," he'd said automatically. At the same time he wondered what her happiness had to do with being spanked. "Then let her be happy! Now, I'm tired, and I'm in pain, and I'd like to go to sleep." After that, whenever he brought it up, she refused to tell him anything. Now he looked up as he heard his daughter and best friend approaching the room. He could see them in the hallway, walking slowly towards him. They were talking about something and Jennifer was leaning against Bob's shoulder. He knew that shouldn't seem strange, but it did, somehow. He looked at Jennifer's face as she looked up at his friend and said something. Bob looked down at her and she smiled. The look on her face was ... happy. It was obvious. He blinked. No ... it wasn't happiness ... it was something more intense. He blinked again. It was adoration. Then, so casually that Don almost missed it, Bob's right hand reached back and slapped Jennifer on the butt. She punched him in the arm, laughing and then ... they were there. They came into the room just like they had so many times before. Jennifer smiled at him and gave him her standard "Hi Daddy! How are you feeling today?" Bob looked around like he always did, even though the chair he inevitably sat in was in the same place it had always been. Jennifer ignored him to go lean down and kiss her mother's cheek. Their heads stayed together as they talked quietly, just like they usually did. Don looked at Bob and, for the first time in his memory, he saw a man, instead of Bob ... or Snake. His head swiveled and he watched Jennifer whispering to his wife. He saw a woman ... relaxed ... content ... beautiful. She looked so much like Susan had when she was younger. Don turned his head to look at Bob again. Bob was watching the women. HE looked content in a way that seemed foreign, now that Don thought about it. He remembered that look on Jennifer's face when she had looked up at Bob in the hallway. He'd seen that look before ... on Susan's face ... right after he'd gotten back from the Navy and they'd started dating. He felt his heart thud in his chest. "You've been porking my daughter!" he gasped. He hadn't meant to say it. It had leapt into his head and out of his mouth in almost the same instant. There was dead silence in the room. Don looked over at the women, both of whom were staring at him. Jennifer's face was getting pinker and pinker as he watched. Then she looked down at her mother and said, "MOM!" Susan turned her head to look at Jennifer. "I didn't tell him," she said, her voice tired. "YOU HAVE!" yelped Don. He sat up in bed. It was a convulsive movement, and it was extremely ill advised. He felt pain streak through his leg as his hip muscles pulled at things that shouldn't be pulled. His ribs and abdominal muscles screamed at him, too. He flopped back down with a tortured groan. Jennifer was at his bedside almost immediately. Her hands lay gently on his shoulders. "Stop it, Daddy," she said. "You'll hurt yourself." Don's pain distracted him long enough for Bob to come up with the reply he knew would be required. While he sometimes didn't know what to say to Jennifer, this was different. Now he was talking to his best friend, the man he knew better than any other human being on Earth. His thoughts gelled quickly. "It was an accident, Don," he said, standing up and moving right next to the bed. "Neither of us planned it, and even now I'm not sure I understand how it happened, but we fell in love and..." "Crazy!" panted Don, still trying subconsciously not to breathe deeply. "I know, man," said Bob, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought she just had a little crush on me the whole time I was walking right into the kill zone. I thought I could manage things. She's a very strong-willed girl, though. There was a serious flaw in my strategic posture. Basically she flanked me every time I tried to move to a new position." Don had recovered enough to frown, instead of grimacing. He also had more thoughts. "I can't believe you'd do this to me," he said, his voice low. "I trusted you!" "Don, please shut up," his wife's voice came from the next bed. His head rolled toward her. "And you knew! Didn't you?!" "Of course I knew," said Susan. "Jennifer and I talked about it." "You TALKED about it?!" he groaned. "She's grown up, Don," said Susan patiently. "Why can't she make her own decisions, like you and I did?" "Because it's BOB!" groaned Don. "So," said Bob softly, "what you're really saying is I'm not good enough for your daughter." Don's response was immediate. "Snake, you know good and well that no man is good enough for my baby." Jennifer had remained silent throughout the whole exchange. She'd stared into her father's face the entire time, whether he was the one speaking or not. She had become, quite suddenly, very afraid that something bad was happening, but she had to wait to find out for sure or she could be the trigger to MAKE it into something bad. She couldn't stay quiet any longer, though. "So, Daddy," she asked sweetly. "What you're saying is that, since there is no man good enough for me, I'll never get to fall in love, and have my own home, and start my own family ... right? Don knew a trap when he heard one. "I'm not saying that at all," he blustered weakly. "I'm just saying it can't be Bob." "So he really isn't good enough for me," said Jennifer. "What, exactly, is wrong with him, Daddy?" "I didn't say there was anything wrong with him!" yelped Don. "He just can't marry you, that's all." "I never said anything about marrying him," said Jennifer. "He hasn't asked me to marry him. In fact, when we talked about that he said I should think about going to college now that I don't stutter any more." "What an excellent idea!" chirped Susan. "You talked about it?" moaned Don. "Marriage?" said Jennifer, as if she wasn't quite sure what he was referring to. "Not very much. It seems to make Bob nervous. He just said we can't live together." "Of COURSE you can't live together!" yelped Don. "So I can't marry him, and I can't live with him," said Jennifer. "Right!" said Don, sounding less stressed. Jennifer shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I guess that's OK, as long as he still porks me regularly." Don turned ghostly white. "Isn't that how you referred to it, Daddy?" asked Jennifer. Her voice was neither sweet nor light any more. "Like I'm some kind of sow or something?" "Why don't we all just take a deep breath or two," suggested Susan. Bob just stood there, waiting for the trains to wreck, so he could move in and begin picking up pieces. "You can't have sex with Bob!" spluttered Don. "Too late," said Jennifer. "That cow is already out of the barn." "Horse," said Bob automatically. He almost groaned as he realized he'd said it out loud. "Whatever," said Jennifer, ignoring him. "What's wrong with you, Daddy? Don't you want any grandchildren?" "You're too young for that!" argued her father. "How old was Mom when you married her?" Jennifer shot back. Don blinked. "That doesn't matter," he said sticking his chin out. "She was eighteen," said Jennifer. "How much younger than you was she, Daddy?" "You're missing the point!" said Don, starting to look less angry and more harassed. "She was six years younger than you, Daddy," said Jennifer. "That's like a senior in high school dating a middle schooler, Daddy." "She wasn't a middle schooler when I dated her!" groused Don. "And six years is one thing, but Bob is old enough to be your FATHER!" yelled Don. "You're old enough to be my father and I love YOU!" Jennifer yelled back. "Why can't I love BOB TOO?!" "Because that's different," whined Don. "Mom is right. You ARE pigheaded," snorted Jennifer. She blinked, looked startled and then smiled. "Of course!" she said. "Now I understand. It's a genetic thing!" "What are you talking about?" asked Don irritably. "Well, you're my father and you're pigheaded. It only makes sense that Bob, who is the same age as you ... would be PORKING me!" She grinned. "Get it? Pigheaded? Porking?" "Jennifer!" groaned Susan. "You were doing so well, and then you threw it all away for a stupid pun?" "Why not, Mother?" asked Jennifer, no longer smiling. "You can see that no matter what I say he's just going to dig in his stupid heels and tell me I can't be happy. He's almost as infuriating as Bob!" "See there?" crowed Don. "Even though you THINK you love him, you call him infuriating. He's too old, baby. He took advantage of you because of your youth and inexperience with men. You have to see that, Jennifer!" Jennifer crossed her arms and scowled. "Mom told me about your first date, Daddy," she said, her voice heavy. "ALL of your first date, Daddy! She told me what you did!" Don's face, which had begun to take on a mottled appearance as blood suffused it, suddenly paled. "Jennifer!" warned Susan. "Well you DID!" said Jennifer, turning to her mother. "Right there in that bed, not two days ago, you told me I was lucky because Bob had been so gentle with me!" "Jennifer Elaine!" snapped her mother. "I did NOT intend for that to be aired in public. I was only trying to help you understand what was happening to you!" "Well Bob waited for YEARS!" insisted the agitated girl. "Daddy porked you on your very first date!" There was a snort, and all three Brazeltons looked at Bob, who was trying to hide a grin. "This isn't funny!" said Jennifer. "Actually, I think it is, sort of," said Bob. "I mean what you just described seems as normal to me as the day is long, knowing Don. Back then he was a father's worst nightmare." "You can say that again," sighed Susan. She waved a hand in her face, as if she was hot. "I was like a lamb being led to slaughter by the Big Bad Wolf." "And now that man is a father himself," said Bob. "It's kind of like Earl, on TV, talking about karma. What goes around really does come around." "It wasn't like that!" complained Don to his wife. "You make it sound like I almost raped you, but you wanted it as much as I did." "I didn't know what I wanted," said Susan. "Except that I didn't want it to stop. I knew that much. And I knew that you were my man. I knew that night that I was going to marry you." "We didn't talk about marriage for months!" objected Don. "That's because you were too busy getting into my pants," said Susan. "And I was too busy letting you." She smiled tiredly. "Does that sound like somebody we know?" Her face got serious. "Bob's age is the only difference, honey. Other than that, all they're doing is what WE did. And before you go getting all defensive, I'm quite sure MY father would have had conniptions about it, too, if he'd known what we were doing. It wouldn't have made any difference. We were in love and nothing could have stopped us, short of being torn apart and not being allowed to see each other. How would you have felt about that, Don?" Don's face took on a stony cast, but he didn't say anything. "I'm only going to say one more thing," said Susan. "And that is to remind you that there is only one man in the world that the sun rises and sets for, in your opinion, and that man is Snake Jefferson. I expected him to be ten feet tall when I met him for the first time. You went on and on and ON about him. And now, the same man ... the man you said you were willing to DIE for if necessary ... isn't good enough to take care of our daughter? If I hadn't already learned how pigheaded you are I would have thought you'd be turning cartwheels from the joy of it." Don's hands came up and rubbed his face. He was still scowling when he took them away. "I don't want to talk about this any more," he grumbled. Susan wasn't about to let any advancement be lost. "Excellent," she said. "I'm glad that's all settled." Don turned his head to glare at her, but didn't say anything. Then his view was blocked anyway, as his daughter's body came between him and his wife. Jennifer leaned down to kiss her father's cheek very tenderly. "Everything is going to be OK, Daddy," she said softly. "You'll see." "That's the kind of thing I'm supposed to be saying to you," he pouted. "Things are all mixed up and I don't like it! It makes me nervous." "There's nothing to be nervous about," said his daughter. "If it helps, just pretend that nothing is going on at all. That's what I did all these years about you and mom." Don looked surprised, but not for long. "I can't just stop thinking about something like that," he sighed. "Well ... OK," said Jennifer, as her eyebrows moved toward each other slightly. "I understand that. I can't stop thinking about it either." She brightened. "But I did tell him he can't have any sex for a month, to punish him for the clitty whizzer. Does that help?" ------- Now that the generic subject of "plans" had been brought up, even if not thoroughly examined, the conversation in the room gradually moved toward short and long term issues. There was some minor disagreement between Susan and Don about whether Bob and Jennifer should stay longer or return to Georgia. Susan felt like there was little they could do if they stayed, and Don, though he didn't say so, was worried about what they WOULD do if they went back home, where he couldn't keep an eye on them. "I probably need to get back to work," said Bob. "They don't really need me, for the most part, but I don't want them to find out how successful they could be without me." "They'd never turn coat on you," said Don, automatically. "Probably not," said Bob. "But I still want them to think I'm an important gear in the machine." "You ARE important," said Susan. "Don't you do all the design?" "Mostly," said Bob. "But that's more because I see things in my head better than they do. Once I imagine it and describe it, they do the heavy lifting of working out the kinks and actually create the art." "It's still a team," said Don. Bob grinned. "It really is. None of us are engineers, and sometimes what I dream up doesn't work. It usually takes all of us working together to come up with a design that won't fall apart, but still looks good." Susan suddenly lifted her head. "Jennifer!" she said. "I completely forgot about your job hunt. How was that going?" "It wasn't," said Jennifer glumly. "But that was before everything changed. I'm sure I can get a job now." "Have you given any thought to what Bob suggested?" asked her mother. "About college I mean?" "Not really," said Jennifer. "And, if I recall, the guidance counselors in school said you have to apply for things like that way in advance. Some kids were even applying for college when they were still juniors. I never paid any attention to any of that. I wouldn't even know what to do." "Well all you have to do is contact some colleges and ask them," said Susan. "I'm sure they'd be happy to tell you how it could be done. They're in that business, after all." "I'll think about it," said Jennifer. "In the meantime, I'll need a job. With you guys laid up, I'll have to pay the bills." She frowned. "Speaking of which, I need to know how to do that. I've never paid bills before." "I'll help with that," said Bob. He looked at Don. "Where do you keep all the paperwork?" "Don't ask me," said Don, waving towards his wife. "She takes care of all the finances." The rest of the day turned into a planning session, getting more and more detailed as either Don or Susan remembered some other issue that would need to be taken care of. Jennifer began to complain about how much work it was all going to be, and both her parents smugly reminded her that she was learning the price of growing up. There was one kind of planning that was distinctly missing though. Bob and Jennifer's romantic future together went completely unmentioned. ------- Chapter 20 In the end, it was generally agreed upon that Bob and Jennifer's continued presence at the hospital wasn't going to produce any gain, as far as the patients were concerned. Life needed to go on, where it could, while other lives would remain on hold until healing was well enough along that they could complete it at home. So it was, that night, Bob and Jennifer prepared to stay their last night in the Best Western motel. The mood was a little like what some people feel on a Sunday night, knowing that the next morning the freedom of the weekend is over and they have to go back to work. Sometimes people overdo it, on those Sunday nights, trying to wring as much pleasure out of the weekend as possible before the real world takes over, or at least intrudes into their lives again. Not that they overdid the sexual part of things. That would have been pretty difficult to do. Jennifer had been pulling Bob between her welcoming legs two and three times a day, not counting sleeping with him each night. One might have thought she had a new hobby of sorts. No ... to explain their thought processes that night, it is helpful to return to the example of what might be called Sunday Night Syndrome. At some point on Sunday night, the alarm clock is set. Perhaps clothing for the next day is identified, or what you're going to have for breakfast is reflected on. Maybe you think about what it is likely you'll have to face when you get to work. In other words, you make plans. And so, as Jennifer crawled into bed with the man who, only a week earlier, had been "Uncle Bob," a man she knew well and liked a lot, her natural bent was to ... make plans. In one sense the desire to make these plans was even stronger, by virtue of the fact that they had, subconsciously or not, AVOIDED making plans up to that point. Making plans requires that you make decisions, and making decisions requires that you face facts, and facing facts is sometimes very painful. Her hand landed on his chest as she snuggled against him, and drifted slowly toward his groin. There seemed to be some kind of magnet down there that drew her hand. She loved everything about his penis, from its differing textures to the warmth and taste. And she loved how it made her feel inside, too, of course. She cut pretty much right to the chase. "So what ARE we going to do?" she asked. "We, Princess, are going to go on with life, while your parents get better," he said. Bob had more experience with Monday mornings and, correspondingly, had more experience at not facing them until the last moment. "That doesn't tell me anything," said Jennifer. "I know." "Tell me something," she pleaded. "Lie to me if you must, but give me something to hope for." "Women!" he snorted. "First you tell me not to lie to you, then, a few days later, change your mind." "I'm being patient, Bob," she said, squeezing his penis, "but my patience is not going to last forever." Her hand moved to cup and gently squeeze his balls, and the threat was clear. "I don't want to lie to you," he said. "Why CAN'T we be happy together?" "Who said we can't?" he asked. "My father, for one," she said. "He's just dealing with the idea that some big hairy man crawled between his darling daughter's pristine white thighs and rutted in her like an animal." "That's an awful way to describe it!" she said forcefully. "It's how dads imagine it," said Bob. "I'm not a dad, but up until a week ago, if someone had told me you weren't a virgin any more, that's probably what I would have imagined, too. So I think I know how he feels." Bob squeezed her with his arm. "It will take some time, but he'll get over it." "So tell me how it will be," she said, wistfully. "How about you tell me how you'd dream it would be, instead," he suggested. "What if you don't like my dream?" she sighed. "Why wouldn't I like your dream?" "Because it involves you." He squeezed her again. "Well, just to clear the air, I find myself somewhat attracted to you, so being part of your dream isn't all that scary." She squeezed what was now a partial erection. "I can tell," she giggled. "So tell me about your dream," he said. She lay there quiet, long enough that he was afraid she wasn't going to answer. "Don't laugh," she said, to preface her next words. "But something you said today kind of got me thinking." He encouraged her with his silence to keep talking. "It was when you said you dream things up—bike designs—and then the guys have to make it work." She moved, like she was trying to get more comfortable. "I was thinking you need an engineer ... somebody who could help design things so that they would work the first time you tried." "So far all you're talking about is me," said Bob. "This is YOUR dream ... right?" "Yes. Are you going to let me tell you or not?" He was silent again. She wiggled a little more, rubbing her breasts against his ribs. Her hand stroked up and down his penis once, and then she just held it. "So now I can go to college, right? And I like knowing how things work. I have lots of fun when you let me help you fix something. So I was thinking ... maybe I could go to college and learn how to be an engineer." "You want to work for me?" He found the idea simply ludicrous, primarily because his natural vision of her in that situation was mixed in with the boys. Thinking of her as one of the guys was almost impossible. "No," she said softly. "I want to work WITH you, while I live WITH you." Quite suddenly, an idea that had looked simply weird took on a different appearance, like color seeping into a black and white photograph. "That's a beautiful dream," he whispered. "So can we do it?" Her voice held excitement. "I thought this was just a dream," he said, feeling like he'd been ambushed. "Dreams can come true," she urged. "Hang on," he said. "I'm not trying to be the bad guy here, but I can see at least one problem. College is at least four years." "True." "That's it? Just 'true'?" "It's going to be four years no matter what my major is, no matter where I live," she said. "True," he said automatically. "See? I told you so," she giggled. "Hmmmm." "What does that mean?" "Well, I was just thinking about your parents. If you were going to college, say at Georgia State, there in Atlanta, I could rent you a room and keep an eye on you." "WHAT?!" "I mean from their perspective, of course," he said. "Bob, they know what we're doing," she said, sounding slightly disgusted. "Yes, but we don't want to rub it in their faces." Her relief produced tingles. "Right now I want to rub it in YOUR face," she said, jacking his cock more forcefully. After taking a break to rub it in his face ... and then get it filled with his straining erection ... and a dose of semen ... they ended up back in the same position, with her cradled in his left arm. She wasn't holding his penis this time. Instead she played with his chest hair with her fingertips. "Where were we?" she panted. "Oh yes. You were telling me I could live with you while I go to college and that you'd make love to me as often as I wanted you to." "I said that?" He grinned. "I knew what you meant." Her voice changed, becoming more serious. "Couldn't I have that dream?" "I don't know, sweetie," he sighed. "You probably don't want me hanging around all the time," she said. "You couldn't pick up women on the Babe Bike and bring them home." "Why not?" he asked, grinning again. "I have a two bedroom place." He had to pin her under him, holding her wrists above her head, to keep her from scratching or kicking him. "Suck my nipples!" she panted. "I might NOT want you hanging around all the time if you're going to boss me around," he teased. "Suck my nipples!" she demanded again. Ten minutes later she asked if he was hard again yet. When he said he wasn't she called him old and worthless, and said that if she lived with him in Atlanta she'd probably have to let all the other guys in the shop fuck her too, because he was too old and worthless. To her immense satisfaction, his jealousy was proven and she found herself folded up, gleefully trying to breathe while he pounded her with a new erection. ------- The ride home was uneventful, at least by comparison to the trip they were returning from. So much had changed in just a week that even though they drove the same route back, it seemed like a whole new world to them. There were, of course, landmarks along the way that were now etched in Jennifer's mind like mile markers along the road of her life. They passed by the truck stop, where the waitress and cook had thought she was a runaway, being taken advantage of by a biker dude. And she saw the Drop Inn, where for the first time she had slept in Bob's arms, in the same bed. And, of course, there was the clitty whizzer. She was a veteran now and had somehow developed the muscles needed to lessen the whizzer's devastating impact, or at least mitigate it a bit. Not that she wanted to. Now she welcomed the feel of constant arousal and an orgasm whenever she felt like it. She had a lot of orgasms. But she did a lot of crying, too. Each mile brought her closer to home and closer to when she'd have to stand on the porch and watch Bob ride away. ------- Chapter 21 Jennifer grabbed her keys and ran out to the car. She didn't want to be late to work. As she negotiated the turns to get to the accounting firm where she worked as a receptionist and general Girl Friday, she wondered for the hundredth time why neither she nor Bob had thought about taking her car to go see her parents in the hospital. And, for the hundredth time, she thanked her lucky stars they HADN'T thought of that. If they had, her world wouldn't have changed, most likely. She wouldn't have lost her virginity and, she was thoroughly convinced, she would still be a completely frustrated stutterer. As she entered the building, a slightly older and slightly more jaded young woman, she thought about how easy it had been to get a job, once she'd lost the stutter. The man who'd interviewed her had looked her over obviously and she'd been convinced, when he offered her the job, that he had designs on her. That was proven when he suggested they go out for dinner, even though he was married. One of Bob's frequent visits to town solved that problem. He came to see her at work (at her request) and she introduced him as her boyfriend. Her boss lost interest after that. But she was good at her job and she needed the income, so she stuck with it. She had a lot of experience, in her own mind, of sticking with things. Watching Bob drive away on the Babe Bike HAD been the hardest thing she could ever remember going through, with the exception of not knowing if her parents were going to be alive or not when she got to them. But she had survived that. And she had survived keeping things in order until her parents got home. She viewed having to keep the household going as the thing that had saved her sanity after Bob left. It had kept her mind occupied. That and her new job, anyway. The only time she'd had to wallow in self pity had been at night, when she was alone in bed, trying to go to sleep. Things had gotten better almost immediately, though. It's amazing how much one's perspective can alter what looks like a dismal situation. Bob had called her as soon as he got home. They'd talked for an hour, after which she'd felt much better. The next night, he called again. And the night after that. It turned into a ritual that was the anchor in her storm. She knew that no matter how frazzled she got, evening would come eventually and Bob would call, and she'd be able to hear his voice again, and all would be right with the world. The following weekend he'd come to the house. He'd said it was to take her out to celebrate getting a job, but they were in bed within ten minutes. She'd kept him in bed until late in the afternoon, when she'd finally been willing to let him take her out to eat. But the thing that had really brought her wallowing ship out of the troughs of the hurricane-driven waves was something many people would simply glance at and then toss in the trash. Bob had brought her a catalog from Georgia State University. Now, when she went to bed, she pulled the well thumbed magazine from under her pillow and gazed once more at the stately buildings and course descriptions, even though she'd seen them all dozens of times. Had she been a young man, it might have been a Playboy or Penthouse. It basically served the same purpose. It gave her something to fantasize about ... to keep her dream alive. The rest of the time she had to spend on dealing with reality, which kept her plenty busy during the day. Two weeks later Bob had brought her application forms. She'd taken the SAT in high school, but hadn't paid any attention to the score, because it hadn't really mattered back then. Now she had to go back to her high school to get the information she needed. She was both amazed and delighted that they remembered her. They were both amazed and delighted at the changes in her. Her parents reported that things were moving along, if slowly. Don was scheduled to be released soon, if all went smoothly, and though he wanted to stay with Susan in the hospital, he would be sent home a full two weeks before it would be safe to move her ... All in all, two months passed before the Brazelton family was all back together under one roof. Her father had to use crutches, at first, and then a cane for months. Her mother came home in a wheel chair. Over the months that it took for Georgia State University to accept Jennifer's application, her mother spent more and more time out of the chair, until it sat in a corner gathering dust. At first Jennifer had been busy, but had seen Bob every weekend, which had kept her sane. Then with her parents return, she'd been even busier, and a problem had emerged. Bob couldn't bring himself to stay the night. He knew she'd want him in her bed, and he just couldn't do that to Don. He still came every Saturday morning, and stayed all day, but he always left for Atlanta that night. Susan routinely invited him to stay. Don said nothing. Bob said he was busy. ------- Susan hummed as she chopped vegetables for the salad. Don would be home soon from the last day of his first full week back at work. She was almost giddy with anticipation for him to get home. She had plans. She'd been to the doctor again, earlier in the day. He'd said it was the last time she needed to come in, unless she was worried about something. She'd told him she only had one question. He hadn't blinked an eye at her request for permission to try something. "Doctor, I haven't had sex for almost six months," she had said. "I'm about to go crazy, but I don't want to mess anything up." He'd looked at her calmly and said, "Go for it, Mrs. Brazelton." She checked the oven. The meatloaf was about done. The mashed potatoes were on top of the stove, staying warm. Jennifer, clued into the plan, offered to go to a movie and do some shopping. Susan had laughed, saying a movie would probably be plenty long enough. They'd eat, chatting about their day, and then she'd get what she so desperately needed. Don didn't know that yet, but that didn't matter. After all, he'd been without sex for the same six months. Her plan went flawlessly. She took his plate to the counter and set it on top of hers. "Oh, there's something I wanted to show you," she said. "What's that?" He stretched. He was relaxed now. It was Friday night, he didn't have anywhere to go, and he wasn't in pain. That was a lot to be thankful for, in his opinion. "Stay there," she said. "I'll go get it." "IT" was already on her body—under her clothes. In the bedroom, she stripped down to what was left of the black teddy she'd purchased secretly just for the trip that had ended in disaster. She'd planned to wear it for him on that trip, and had never gotten the chance. All that was left was the thong and demi-bra, of course. Jennifer had admitted, blushing, what had happened to the jacket. Susan ran a comb through her hair and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She tweaked her nipples, though both were already erect. She was creaming already, too. She'd lost a lot of weight in the hospital and was afraid she looked skinny and pale, but she was pretty sure Don would respond. She padded back down to the doorway that led into the kitchen. "Honey?" she called. "I have this problem." "What's that?" he called back. She stepped into the doorway, putting a hand up and leaning against it, feeling like she probably looked stupid. "I'm horny out of my mind," she said softly. ------- Yes, her plan had worked flawlessly, Susan thought, as she lay almost obscenely satisfied. Don had been almost comical in his reaction. He was still Don, her remembered ardent and quite physical lover. But he was also afraid he'd hurt her. It had made him stop and start, like some jerky old reel of film, until she finally started issuing orders. To be honest, the relief she'd felt when he finally penetrated her was for more than just lustful reasons. She'd been so afraid, somehow, but those fears had been abated. She WAS healed, and now she could have her man back. By the time she'd finished with him, he wasn't being so terribly careful with her. "I needed that," she sighed, reaching out to lay a hand on his heaving chest. "I'm the one who needed that," he panted. "Remind me to send flowers to the doctor." "This one's male," giggled Susan. "OK, then, a bottle of Scotch." "That's more appropriate, and I approve. You made me very happy, husband." "Wait a few minutes and I'll make you happy again," he said, turning his face to her. It was time to move on to the last part of her plan. She rolled over, putting her lips against his briefly in a brushing kiss. "I'll take you up on that," she said softly. "But there is one other thing I need." "Anything," he sighed. "I need you to let Jennifer have a chance to get what SHE needs, too. I want her to be able to be as happy as I am." ------- Bob showed up on Saturday morning, as usual. Susan met him at the door. "They went out for breakfast," she said. "Come on in and I'll make you some." His eyebrows rose. "Father-daughter bonding kind of thing," she said casually. She fixed him bacon and eggs and then sat, nursing a cup of coffee while he ate. "Jennifer got her acceptance letter from Georgia State," she said. "I'm not supposed to tell you, so act surprised when she does." He paused, the fork halfway to his mouth. "Why DID you tell me, then?" he asked. "She's going to need a place to live when she starts classes." Bob put the fork down and leaned back. "She told me about her dream, Bob," said Susan. "Why am I not surprised?" He smiled ruefully. "So?" "Susan, you know there's nothing I'd love more than having her close, but..." "You're thinking about Don," prompted Susan. "Yes." "That's why you never stay the night, too," said Susan. He didn't have to speak. His face said it all for him. "Why don't you just ask her to marry you?" Susan's voice made it sound like she was suggesting he do something routine. His reaction wasn't one of astonishment, though. "Because that would be crazy, and you know it." "Well, mister mind reader, suppose you just tell me why I know it," said Susan. Bob didn't catch the satire in her voice. "She's too young." "Lots of women her age get married," said her mother. "OK, then ... I'm too old." "Bob, lots of men in their forties get married, too," she said patiently. He'd been beating around the bush and they both knew it. He finally said what she expected him to say. "Don would never go for it. Besides, I don't know how to be married. I'm a loose cannon ... a maverick. She needs somebody stable." "How many women have you picked up on the Babe Bike since you got back?" Susan asked suddenly. "What?" "How many?" she insisted. He frowned. "None. I don't even ride the damn thing anymore." "And how many women have you had sex with since we got in that wreck?" "You can't ask me something like that!" he groaned. "How many, Bob?" He actually blushed. "One," he said. "And how many bar fights have you gotten into?" "None," he snorted. "I don't go out and get into fights on purpose, Susan." "Some loose cannon you are," she scoffed. "Fathers everywhere must live in terror of you despoiling their tender young daughters." "My sex life is not the point," said Bob. "Yes it is!" barked Susan. "And so is Jennifer's." She stopped, feeling her face get hot. She'd gotten impatient and hadn't chosen her words carefully. "At least it's one point," she said. "Another is that BOTH of you want to be together ... to make each other happy ... to have a LIFE, Bob! Marriage won't kill you! And what my husband thinks about it shouldn't be the determining factor as to whether you try or not." "He's not just your husband," said Bob. "He's my brother ... my best friend ... and Jennifer's father. I can't ignore all that and I can't throw that away. And I'm fully aware that marriage wouldn't kill me. BELIEVE me, I've thought about this ... a lot! I wasn't exactly anti-marriage before, but I never thought it would be the right thing for me. Jennifer changed that, or at least I THINK she changed that. I'm confused a lot these days." Susan felt hope blossom in her chest. She felt the strangest urge to kiss this man and blushed again. "Jennifer has been acting more and more froggy," said Susan. "You're not helping by coming here, staying all day and then going home. She's all excited about college. She's practically beside herself to find a way to get Don to agree to her living with you. She needs to get laid, Bob. And don't look at me like that. I just got laid two days ago for the first time in six months. I know what I'm talking about when I say she NEEDS her man!" "I NEED HER, TOO!" yelled Bob. "WHAT THE FUCK CAN I DO ABOUT IT, THOUGH?" Don and Jennifer chose that particular moment to open the kitchen door, having returned from their breakfast trip. They were laughing at something one of them had said, and both were smiling. "What's all the yelling about?" asked Jennifer. ------- Don's demeanor was as surreal as Bob's. Bob, having just shouted at Susan, sat stiffly, his face frozen. The smile didn't fade from Don's face. He said, "Hey, dude," and kept moving, to reach and kiss his wife. He acted like he had every time he'd seen Bob for the last five or six years, not counting the last six months. "Bob was just expressing some frustration," said Susan, returning her husband's kiss. "I'm glad you're home. I need to talk to you about something." "Shoot," he said. "In private," she said. Her cheeks got pink. "In the bedroom." "Really!" He leered. She stood up. "Really." Her voice was sultry. "What brought this on?" asked Don. "Bob," said Susan. "It's a good thing I met you first. You should count your blessings about that." Don groaned. "I should have known." He shot a glance at Bob, grinned, and led his wife out of the kitchen. "What the fuck just happened?" asked Bob, confusion in his voice. "Scoot back," said Jennifer, coming to the table. He did so, automatically, and she swung a leg over to straddle him, sitting on his lap. She kissed him long and hard, insisting he give her his tongue. "Daddy had a talk with me," she said when she was done. "What?" Bob felt helpless. "He's old fashioned," said Jennifer. "He explained to me how he doesn't believe a woman should live in sin." "What?" Bob was still frustrated and it seeped into his voice. "He says he can't give me his blessing if I just come live with you when I go to school," she said patiently. "We have to be married. Or at least engaged. He said engaged would be OK, though I don't get that, because his definition of living in sin is..." "Stop!" Bob's voice was loud. Jennifer sat, staring into his eyes. She waited patiently. "Your mother was just talking about this," he said. "Living in sin?" The bare beginning of a smile touched the corners of her lips. "No ... marriage," said Bob. "It's a conspiracy," whispered Jennifer. "They're trying to marry me off. I think it's so they won't have to pay for college." "This isn't funny, Jen!" he barked. Jennifer quit playing with him. "Will you marry me, Bob? Daddy says you will and he's never lied to me." "Your father..." said Bob, unbelieving, "your father ... said that I ... would marry you." She tensed. "Yes he did, Bob." Her face looked wary and her upbeat attitude seemed to slide away, like fog before the sun. "I told him I thought you were very resistant to the idea of marriage and he laughed. He said he was quite sure you'd jump at the chance to marry me." She scooted back on his lap and something like fear came across her face. "Bob?" His mind was whirling. The complete turnaround in Don's attitude was something he hadn't expected and didn't understand. Don was hardheaded. It was part of why he was so dependable. When he made up his mind about something, you knew what to expect. He was solid. "Bob, please don't tell me he was wrong." His mind was jerked back from his puzzlement by the sound of tears in her voice. "Of course not," he said impatiently. "I'd love to marry you." He frowned. "That's not what's bothering me." "You would?!" The fear was gone and excitement ... no ECSTACY was in her voice now. The tears still came, but now they were the result of a different emotion. "Sweetheart, I've wanted to marry you ever since you told that motel guy that you weren't a hooker." "WHAT!?" Jennifer's jaw dropped. "Remember? You said that he couldn't have you at any price, and that IF I could have you, it would be at no charge." "THAT made you want to marry me?!" she gasped. "At that instant I wanted to be the man who could have you." She stared at him, amazed. "It's supposed to be about love, Bob!" she said, almost sounding hurt. "I already loved you," he said. "I'd loved you for years. I just didn't love you as a WOMAN until that moment." "Oh," she said, tilting her head. "OK then." "That's it?" He smiled. "I'm not in the hot seat any more?" "Well..." "What?" he asked. "You said you'd love to marry me..." "Yes." "But you haven't asked me yet." "Didn't YOU ask ME?" "Yes, but that doesn't count. I had to bring it up somehow. I TOLD you, Daddy's old fashioned. YOU have to ask ME. That's just how it works." "He SAID that?!" Bob was astonished. "No, of course not, but I know him. It would actually be better if you ask him for my hand." "You're kidding." "Nope," she said. Then she wiggled closer to him and kissed him again. "And would you please hurry? He DID say we can't have sex until we're engaged." "He said THAT?" "Well, he said not in my room, anyway." "Well I'll be damned." ------- It never occurred to Bob that what might be going on in the bedroom between Don and Susan was ... very private, which is why he just opened the door. His eyes took in husband and wife, nude on the bed. Susan was on her back, her knees thrown wide while her heels dug into the bedspread, her hips engaged in a classic "fuck back at him" movement. Her white breasts, tipped with bright pink and very erect nipples, rolled gently on her chest as Don lunged between her legs. He was in a modified pushup position and he wasn't being gentle. "Oh my!" squeaked Jennifer, from behind Bob. Her parents' heads swiveled and all motion on the bed stopped. Their eyes were wide in their faces. "What the fuck?" gasped Don. "Can I marry your daughter?" Bob blurted. "I already TOLD her you could!" exclaimed Don. Susan's hands came up to cover her nipples. Jennifer giggled. "Right!" said Bob. "Sorry." He backed up, trying to pull the door closed, but ran into Jennifer, who was peering over his shoulder. "It's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be," she said and giggled again. Bob shoved her backwards and closed the door. He wouldn't find out for almost twenty years that their interruption, rather than cooling the ardor of the lovers, actually made that lovemaking session—and others that followed it—a lot hotter. ------- Standing in the hallway, another pair of lovers reacted to what had just happened. "I accept!" Jennifer panted as she grasped Bob's hand and pulled him toward her bedroom. Half an hour later, Jennifer's panting voice produced a day's late echo of her mother's words, spoken in another bedroom in the same house. "I needed that so much." And, like her mother, she rolled toward her lover to cuddle, get kisses and tell him how happy she was. And, some dozen or so minutes later, like Don, Bob responded by giving her more of what had just made her so happy. ------- Epilogue They say that life mimics history, which you'd think should be the other way around. But the fact is — and they say this, too — that there is very little new under the sun. That was exemplified in the reaction of Bob's employees when he told them he was going to get married. They played the historical role of the bold young man's wastrel friends, who tried their best to talk him out of such folly. The Drunken Dwarf was among the most ardent of those trying to sabotage the wedding. He went so far as to find willing young lasses to bring to the shop under the impression that they had a blind date with the owner of said shop, whom Dwarf had told all kinds of wild tales about. Bob just called him an idiot. The upside was that Dwarf ended up with the girls, most of the time, especially when Bob promptly told tall tales about the things that the big man had ... and hadn't ... done. Like a stubborn donkey, Dwarf resisted vociferously, to the point where he refused to be one of Bob's groomsmen, vowing never to assist his brother in surrendering to the enemy. He did, however, show up at the wedding, primarily because Bob said he was fired if he didn't. He came in his motorcycle leathers. It was the first time he'd actually seen Jennifer. In the receiving line, at the reception, Dwarf came through the line just like everybody else. He'd already decided, after seeing the look on Snake's face during the ceremony, he was going to give up gracefully. When he got to the bride, he saw Bob lean over and whisper in her ear. He assumed Bob was identifying him, by name. Her face lit up. "So you're the Drunken Dwarf!" she squealed, confirming that Bob had told her who he was. "Do I get to kiss the bride?" he asked, grinning. It was what he thought he was expected to say. "Oh yes," she said, reaching for his shoulders. "You most DEFINITELY get to kiss the bride." The big, tough ex-SEAL was left almost breathless as the young bride crushed her lips to his, sliding her arms around his neck to pull him hard against her body. There were gasps from those in the receiving line. This was no polite, chaste kiss! Her lipstick left a bright red impression on his lips as she finally stopped kissing him and slid her lips to his ear. "Thank you SO much for the clitty whizzer," she whispered. Then, dazed, he was pushed along the line to Bob, who was grinning from ear to ear. Dwarf was to become one of Jennifer's most ardent protectors and advisors, in the years that followed. He was also the person who, at Susan's request, delivered the Babe Bike to Don. She then asked Don to take her for a ride on it that lasted fully twenty-two minutes until she gasped into his ear to take her home ... and to bed. ------- Jennifer started off in the paint booth of the shop. She worked there while she went to school, taking between nine and twelve credit hours per semester. It was tough. She wasn't used to the math but, to her intense surprise, the ex-SEALs she spent so much time with now were always able to help her. It turns out there's a lot of math involved in planning an assault. It didn't help that she had their first baby in her third semester. By the time she waddled, more than walked, across the stage to receive her diploma, her gown was bulging with their third child. She went into labor that very night. Her new duties could be performed at home, using various computer programs to firm up technical details and resolve mechanical issues before a frame was built. That saved the company money on both wasted labor and materials. Not only that, but the blueprints she provided, if followed to the letter, always meant the components that went into the bike would fit perfectly. That shortened production time, which made the bikes cheaper. Working at home lasted until the children were all in school. Then their afterschool program became being at the shop with Mommy and Daddy, as well as all those uncles, who could be depended on for either a good time or a swat on the butt, whichever was deserved at the moment. By the time each youngster was eight, he or she could name any tool in the shop, what it was used for, what it should NOT be used for, and find it ... even in the dark. Six years later word had gotten around. If you were a woman who wanted a custom bike—and the number of hardcore female bikers there are in the world might surprise you—there was only one place to get it built for you. It was a place where a woman seemed to call the shots, because all those hunky men in the shop jumped when she spoke. But that was only one reason to patronize this particular shop. The primary reason was because it was the only place you could get a genuine copy of what they called a Babe Bike. The Babe Bike website informed the customer that some hundred and fifty of them had been built so far. They were designed specifically for women, and the site even said that they wouldn't sell one to a man. This caused no little curiosity on the part of those who scanned that site, and got the shop some interesting queries. The Babe Bike, in its various iterations, could be ordered with any number of paint schemes and several different accessory packages. A prime selling point was that each saddle was custom fit to the owner. There was a photograph on the site of a strapping man, wearing a T shirt emblazoned with the words "DRUNKEN DWARF." He was smiling widely, standing beside the machine that the copy said was used to get "an incredibly personal fit" for the saddles that were his specialty. No matter what design you chose, though, there was something about the lines that just looked feminine. Babe Bikes were usually lighter than what the men all wrestled with and underpowered by comparison, though they had all the guts anyone really needed. Each one was custom built, and the only thing they had in common was that, on a stainless steel plate attached to the frame next to the VIN plate, was inscribed in flowing feminine letters: "Designed by JJ." A Babe Bike wasn't cheap, though it could usually be had for less than the cost of a full dress luxury bike. What sold them was the test drive. Rarely if ever did a woman come back from a test ride without pink cheeks and a glow on her smiling face. The casual observer might notice that that test ride seemed to leave her a little breathless too. Once a woman decided to order a Babe Bike, the transaction could only be processed by Jennifer Jefferson, in private, so that certain ... aspects ... of the design could be explained. Occasionally that lost them a sale. More often, it sealed the deal. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2009-02-09 Last Modified: 2011-04-18 / 07:53:06 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------