Storiesonline.net
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                         The Breastfeeding Blues
                               by Lubrican

Copyright© 2012 by Lubrican


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Description: My niece, Penny, was abandoned by her parents because she made the mistake of getting pregnant. She was in a pretty bad way when I found her, so I offered her a job, and a place to live. That's all it started out to be. I swear.

Codes: Mf cons het unc niece lac
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Foreword

I got some mail from a woman I'll call Penny. That's not her name, in real life, but it's her name in this story. Penny told me, in this email, that she had become pregnant at an early age, but that a problem had developed after she gave birth that caused her emotional distress. Now most people have heard of postpartum depression, and there's plenty of media attention given to that. But there are other kinds of emotional problems too. This story is about one of those situations that the media doesn't talk about.

I tried to email Penny, to let her know I had written this, but the mail came back undeliverable. So I can only hope she's still out there, and reads this tribute. I'd like to thank her for sharing her story with me, and letting me share some of it with you.

Bob

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Chapter 1


Kids make mistakes. It's just what they do. And it doesn't matter if they have parents who hover over them and try to train them and teach them and all that stuff. They still make mistakes. And hopefully they learn from them.

Now, I think the vast majority of the population would agree with all that. But where things begin to break down, in terms of the agreement thing, is at what point kids should expect to get no more help from their parents. Actually, "help" isn't the right word. I'm not sure what the right word is, for that matter. All of us are full of opinions, and most of us don't mind sharing them. And that goes double for parents who have opinions about what their grown up kids are (or are not) doing. But, even before they're grown up, as you may have already noticed, when the kids get into their middle teens, they don't seem to recognize or revere the sage advice and opinions voiced by their parents. And they keep making mistakes.

So what is a parent to do?

Well, that vast majority out there, who I'm depending on so much to agree with me, would probably say "Gotta love 'em!" with a wry smile. That is probably the deepest, most meaningful comment (okay - paraphrase) to come from television, by the way. Just my opinion, but if everybody lived by that catch phrase, wouldn't it be a better world?

Except "vast majority," by definition, doesn't include everybody.

Which brings us to my brother, his wife, and their daughter, Penny.

At the time this story started, at least for me, Penny was seventeen. One of the mistakes she made was her choice in boyfriends. Not so unusual, really. She chose one who had graduated, and had his own place and a job and 'everything.'

That his "place" was a two room apartment with a mattress on the floor, a television, and various different sized trash bags to hold his clothes, didn't matter to her. She was in love. That his job involved the well known phrase "Would you like fries with that?" didn't bother her either. He was going to be a manager some day. And the fact that he had little more money than was necessary to keep him in cigarettes and beer didn't bother her either. Once she graduated, she'd go to work too and they'd have two incomes!

Another mistake she made was on her seventeenth birthday, when she gave herself the present of becoming a woman. She planned it all out. It was supposed to be a ceremony, with candles and ambiance and romance. What happened, as I later found out, was a rushed, insensitive deflowering, (on that mattress on the floor, ) after which her boyfriend huffed, puffed and chuffed his balls into her fertile pussy, thoroughly impregnating her the very first time she had sex.

Another of the mistakes she made was trusting him when he said he'd stick beside her forever. He was eighteen and a man of the world ... right?

And he did stick with her until she had the baby, regularly lying on his back on that crushed mattress, while she serviced him with the pussy he'd knocked up. Then, when there was a crying baby in the apartment, and things started costing serious money, he decided it was more important to serve his country. He joined the Air Force and went off to save the world, never to be seen or heard from again. Well ... he was heard from once more after that. It was in a letter, explaining that the Air Force "frowned on" enlistees getting married before they were fully trained, and had been stationed somewhere for a while. And oh, so sorry, but he couldn't send her any money to keep paying the rent, because he had to buy uniforms and boots and a rifle and maybe even bullets for the rifle too. I saw the letter, and it made me want to go find America's newest airman and give him some real training ... in how to survive torture during interrogation by the enemy.

I found all this out when I went to her apartment one day, to see how she was doing. And I went to the apartment because, when I asked John, my brother and her father how she was doing, his answer was "I don't know. She has been shunned."

"Shunned," I repeated. "Since when are you Amish?"

"Shunning was practiced long before the Amish came along," he said. "We cannot accept her course of action, and she has separated herself from us by pursuing it."

"You mean getting pregnant," I said.

"Sex outside of marriage is forbidden," he said.

"As I recall, you used to tear up the pussy when you were growing up, long before you were married."

He frowned. "Those were my ignorant days. I have learned better. I now walk the straight and narrow."

"So you could fuck up when you were young, but your daughter isn't allowed to," I said.

"We told her the rules," he said. "There's no reason she couldn't learn from our mistakes."

"So you told her you fucked everything you could get the panties off of when you were her age," I said.

"Of course not. That wouldn't be a good example for her! We told her it was wrong, and disrespectful to our beliefs and values."

"As I recall, we got that same thing in Sunday School," I said.

"I have things to do. I don't know where or how she is, and I don't care. I don't think you should either."

"Well, apparently unlike you, I still love her," I said. I was not able to conceal the anger in my voice.

"If you loved her, you'd require her to live a pure life!" he shouted. "When she sees the true way, she can come back."

"Can she bring your grandchild with her?"

"Of course not. That boy is fruit of the wrong kind of tree, and will never soil our home with his presence."

"You are one fucked up piece of shit," I said.

His wife, Meredith had been listening, nodding in agreement with her husband.

"You are no longer welcome in this home either," she said, her voice shrill. "You curse, you drink and you traffic with sinners. I'll get a restraining order if I have to!"

I smiled. "Better put Jesus on that restraining order too. I hear he hangs out with the wrong kind of people all the time."

Then I left, to go find a girl who had been abandoned by her parents because she made some mistakes.

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When I found the ratty apartment and knocked on the door, there was no answer. I heard what sounded like crying inside, so I just went in. I didn't know what to expect, but I was ready for violence if it was required. A career in Army law enforcement had taught me that violence, in the proper amounts, at the proper time, could actually result in peace. A lot of people don't believe that, but I'd seen it happen dozens of times.

But violence wasn't needed. Penny was just feeding the baby, and crying. She was so beaten down that she didn't even care that I saw her crying, or saw the way she was living. She had no pride left.

So I decided to stay a while and talk.

Penny had managed to keep paying the rent, by the simple expediency of taking the job her worthless boyfriend had left behind. There was a church in town that had a daycare center in it that was reserved for women in Penny's exact situation - extreme poverty. So Dilly (yes, shithead named his son, unfortunately) was well taken care of while she was at work. He was young enough that all he required was breast milk, which meant the only food she had to buy was for herself, but a nursing woman needs good nutrition to make good milk. Rent, utilities and food were taking every dime Penny could get her hands on. So that meant she had to be "innovative" at finding ways to do things that were less costly than most of us do. For example, she washed out her uniforms and other clothes in the bathtub when she took a bath.

After sitting and mostly listening for two hours, I suggested that maybe a short outing might be in order, maybe to go out to eat. I don't know whether it was because I had been non-judgmental while I was there, or whether just having someone to listen had revived her spirit a little or what, but suddenly she had found some of that lost pride.

"I can't go out looking like this," she said. "And Dilly's clothes are all dirty."

So I got her sizes, and Dilly's size, which was a number with a "T" added on to it for some reason, and told her to take a bath and give him one too, and be ready to get dolled up to go out. She argued, but not nearly hard enough to dent the resolve of an old soldier like me.

I went to Walmart and spent fifty or sixty bucks, a pittance for a 48 year old man who's getting an Army retirement check every month and has his own security business.

She yelled at me when I got back and spilled the loot out onto the table. I didn't much listen. I just pointed to the blouse and shorts I liked the best and said "Those will make you look hot." I didn't worry about Dilly. He'd be cute no matter what she put on him.

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When Penny had been younger, she'd been plump. Like most American kids, she didn't get enough exercise, and she carried around some rolls of fat. Living hard had taken that off of her, though, and now she was slim, but curvy. I don't know if the fat she'd had on her breasts had just stayed because she was using them, or what, but they were very full and a prominent feature, overall. Her hips had stayed spread after she delivered Dilly too. So she had an actual hourglass figure. Above that was a very ordinary face, surrounded by brown hair that was currently a bit dried out and frizzy, because she couldn't afford to buy all those products that make hair shiny and silky and all that. I'm not saying she looked bad - not by any stretch of the imagination. But she didn't look exotic either. She just looked like a girl in her late teens who had a good body and was just a normal person. Except for Dilly, of course. Dilly told everyone that she'd spread her legs for some boy. Nobody suspected me of being Dilly's father. I looked exactly like what I was, her uncle, or maybe her father, taking his daughter and grandchild out to eat.

I took her to Sirloin Stockade, so she could choose from the buffet there. I like choices too, thought I usually sample almost everything. I run five miles a day, so I get to eat what I want. That's why I run five miles a day. I don't have a girlfriend. I'm not into drugs or booze. So eating is about the only vice I have. And running five miles isn't such a terrible price to pay. Takes me forty-five minutes, which is about as fast as I feel like pushing things at my age. So paying for my vice costs me less than an hour a day. No big deal.

"Better than burgers?" I asked, as she dug into her plate.

"I don't eat where I work," she said. "I know what's in that stuff."

"Oh my," I said. "I eat there occasionally."

"You shouldn't," she said, completely serious. "The food bank has good food."

I smiled. "I don't think I'm eligible for the food bank."

She looked up at me. "They've never asked me a single question."

"Still," I said. "I think the food bank is a great idea, but it should be saved for people who really need it."

"Like me." Her dark eyes stared into mine. Dilly fidgeted in his high chair, but he was just making noises and we both ignored him.

"Like you," I agreed. What else could I do? I wasn't going to pretend she wasn't in dire straits.

She slumped.

"Lots of people have problems getting by," I said. "You're not alone."

She put her fork down like she'd lost her appetite.

"I feel alone," she said.

"That's because your parents are assholes," I said.

She blinked. She should have been a senior in high school, and kids that age aren't used to adults using that kind of language openly, I suppose.

"I, however, am not," I added, grinning. "Which is why you are not alone. Not any more."

She looked at me with what looked like careful eyes. It occurred to me that, as vulnerable as she'd been since shit-for-brains had gone off to save the world and avoid his responsibilities, men might have tried to exploit her.

"I don't want sex." I said. I admit it. I actually said that. I didn't do a lot of thinking before I said it, but I did afterwards, trust me.

"I beg your pardon?" she said, her eyes wide.

I've always believed that, with young people, we tend to treat them like they're too young to understand anything. That's not true, of course, and they know that. So I try to approach them on as much of an adult level as possible. If it's obvious I've gotten too adult, I moderate, but otherwise I try to treat them like anybody else. So in this case I just told her the truth.

"I was just thinking that other ... um ... men ... might have offered to ... um ... keep you company."

"For sex," she helpfully added.

"Yeah," I said.

"They do," she said, quite calmly. "Let's say it isn't unusual."

"Well, I didn't want you to think that's what I had in mind," I said.

"So those boners you got when I was fourteen, and sat on your lap and wiggled, didn't mean anything," she said, also with a completely straight face.

I blinked. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Of course," she said. "I was trying to give them to you."

"Really!" It was a comment, not a question.

"Of course," she said. "You were the only man I could tease and get away with it." She seemed to think. "Or maybe I knew you were safe. I didn't really think about it that way back then. Not consciously, but thinking back on it now, I sort of think that was what was in the back of my mind. I could tease you and not get in trouble ... in lots of ways."

"Well, you're welcome, then," I said.

Again, she gave me that very level, very adult, very contemplative stare, and then picked up her fork and started eating again. It was maybe five silent minutes later that she paused again.

"So what did you have in mind?" she asked.

I phrased my words a bit more carefully now. What I had in mind had just appeared there. I hadn't planned on it when I went to find her. I suspect I didn't want her to have to live like she was living.

"I was thinking that my business has gotten big enough that I should probably look for someone to take care of office stuff for me."

"Office stuff." Her voice held only a hint of question.

"All the equipment I install has a warranty, and it all has to be registered. There are always new things coming on the market, and I need to keep abreast of that kind of thing, which means reading magazines and surfing the net. There's billing, and accounts payable and tax forms and record keeping and all kinds of shit the government requires a small business to do. And if I do all that, I don't have time to meet with new clients and do installs and all that."

"So you need a secretary," she said.

"This person would be much more than a secretary," I said. "She would have to become well versed in the field of residential and commercial security, both concerns and solutions, as well as become proficient at jumping through all manner of legal and regulatory hoops."

"She?"

"Well, I was thinking you could use a better job than the one you have. And I know you. And I trust you. And you're smart."

If I'd have left it there, I'd have probably been fine. But trust me to go the extra yard and trip over my own feet.

"And I could stand to look at you on a daily basis," I added, no longer thinking before I spoke.

I got that guarded look again.

"But not for sex!" I said, digging my foxhole even deeper.

You know how kids look at some "older" people and smirk and giggle about how "out of it" they are? The guarded look left, and I got that one instead. I used to get that look from criminals who thought they were oh, so much smarter than Barney Fife (that would be me) when I was poking around on the street, fishing for something to do. Usually, those kinds of people were really sorry they'd met me after being condescending for a while, because I wasn't nearly as stupid as they thought I was.

I also carried more bullets than Barney.

Anyway, when she gave me that look of pity and condescension, it pushed a button that hadn't been pushed in a while, and I went from emergency stop on my date with a train wreck, to full derailment.

"Of course you'd have to live with me in my house," I said.

I realized almost immediately that that was as stupid a thing to have said as it was possible to say. But instead of just admitting that, I tried to come up with some justification as to why that was a requirement.

"I mean my clone of the monitoring station is there, and I get calls at all hours of the night ... malfunctions and that sort of thing ... or maybe even real break-ins. And if I'm gone, I need somebody there to keep an eye on things ... update me on current status ... you know." It sounded really weak, even to me.

"In the middle of the night," she said, sounding a bit skeptical.

"That's when things happen," I said. "I mean that's when people are home in bed, and bad guys are trying to break into stuff."

"And you have to go catch them?" Now she sounded really skeptical.

"No," I scoffed. "The feeds all go to an automated collection center I contract with. They do a systems check, and if the system checks out, they call 911 and have the police respond."

"But you can monitor things at your house," she said.

"Yes."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that I live in a rat-infested dump and can't afford a real nursing bra?"

"Nursing bra?" I was confused.

"I can feel that my milk is about to let down, and all I have is regular bras, so I can't put pads in them or I look enormous. So that means that pretty soon I'm going to leak and it will soak through my bra and make spots on my new T shirt."

I blinked. I looked at Dilly, and then back at her. "So just feed him. I mean you can pull the bra up ... right?"

She looked at me as if I had suggested we cook up the family pet for supper. "I can't nurse him in public!"

"Why not?" I asked. In my travels around the world I'd seen women nursing babies all over the place. Well, not in countries that were primarily Muslim. They stone women for things like that there. But most other places it happened regularly.

"They'd kick us out, for one thing," she said. "Besides, I don't have a towel to cover up with.

Our server just happened to be passing by and I ambushed her.

"Yes?" she said, putting on her perky face.

"My niece here needs to breastfeed her son. But she left her cover up towel at home by accident. Could you loan us one?

The look on her face would have been priceless, except that she looked a horrified.

"Is there a problem?" I asked.

Perky face disappeared. She looked around. "I'm not sure," she said. "We used to have a policy against it, but then somebody sued us. And now I think I'm supposed to offer her a private place, except we don't really have a private place, except for the bathroom, and I wouldn't want to feed my baby in a bathroom ... you know? The last thing I heard is that if somebody is doing that, we're supposed to say someone complained, and ask them to leave, but give them their money back. But that might have changed. I can go ask if you want."

"Please do," I asked, smiling broadly.

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Talk about a circus.

The manager came. First he suggested that the little boy could probably wait, since we were almost finished with our meal. I said I'd just gotten started, and planned on eating at least two more plates of food. Maybe three. My dander was up by now, but I wasn't showing that. I'm not sure who I was mad at, except that it wasn't Penny. I just thought the right answer should have been "Sure, have her feed the little tyke whenever he's hungry!"

Then they wanted to move us to a corner of the room, in a part of the place that could be curtained off for groups to eat there. Except that the curtain was out being cleaned. So this meathead thought that maybe three servers could stand in a line between Penny and the rest of the diners, shielding them from this apparently aberrant behavior. Never mind that mothers had been doing this for hundreds of thousands of years.

All this time Penny was trying to get me to go, saying things like "Uncle Bob, come on. I'm not that hungry anyway. Let's just go."

I thought about just getting our money back (pure spite, really) and leaving, but as I was broaching that subject I heard a sob and looked to see that what she had prophesied had come to pass. There were twin dark, round stains on her T shirt, right where the tips of her breasts were.

I immediately felt bad. I mean it was my fault we were still there, what with me being stubborn about her rights and all that. I was so busy standing up for her rights that I forgot to care how she felt about things. The three servers, all of whom were barely older than she was, fluttered, feeling bad for her too, but not knowing what to do. The manager just stared at her like an ass and licked his lips.

I told the manager I'd see him later, rather viciously, I admit, and we made our escape. I grabbed Dilly while Penny bawled with embarrassment. It wasn't until we were outside the place that she practically ripped him out of my hands, saying "He can cover me up, uncle Bob!"

Of course what with his mother all upset, Dilly got upset too, and started squalling like infants do. We got in the car and the only way she could shut him up was to pull up her T shirt and bra and give him something to put in his mouth. That actually worked perfectly, though how a baby can snuffle-cry while sucking milk from a nipple is beyond me. He did, though, for a few minutes anyway.

Of course I looked over at her.

Occasionally.

Okay, maybe more than occasionally.

I couldn't see anything, really. I mean her nipple was firmly in his mouth, which was working away like he hadn't been fed in days. His little hands were all over her breast, pushing and sliding. I wondered what that flesh felt like, and then felt bad about that too.

"Sorry," I said.

She had stopped crying too. She was looking down at her son with that look that only a mother can give her own baby. She saw me looking, and said "Stop looking at me."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"It's not your fault," she said, softly.

"Actually, if I hadn't gotten all fired up, we could have been out of there before you got embarrassed," I said.

"I know," she said. "But that's not what I'm talking about."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I can't tell you," she said.

I drove on. I was married once upon a time, long enough to learn that when a woman's acting like that, you just put one foot in front of the other until she gets over it. It hadn't saved the marriage, but it had avoided a lot of arguments.

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I took her to my house, instead of hers. Being self-employed, the only responsibilities I had were interviews and sales calls I'd made appointments for, and I didn't have any of those for the rest of the day. That's one reason I had picked that day to go visit her. She had finished nursing Dilly, so I took him and the diaper bag, and told her to go clean up. I told her to get whichever one of my shirts she wanted to wear.

Dilly, like most babies, was full of shit ... but not for long. I had just finished changing his diaper when she came out of my bedroom, wearing one of my company shirts, which just has my logo on the left breast, about where the polo pony or alligator is on the fancy shirts. Her other shirt was rolled up and in her hand. I could tell immediately that her bra was rolled up in that shirt too, because the nipples that Dilly had been so recently lucky to engulf in his little mouth were prominently poking through the knit surface of the shirt.

Of course I looked at them. And of course she caught me looking.

"Sorry," I said, automatically.

"Don't be," she said. "You're allowed. You fought for me. You're my knight in shining armor."

She picked up her son and examined him, as if I might have scratched him or something. Then she wandered into what had, at one time, been the formal dining room. Now it was my monitoring room. The console was lit up with hundreds of lights, some red, some green, some flashing, some not. There was a binder lying open on the desk, and a table was heaped with boxes of new product, parts and invoices.

"Is this where I'd work?" she asked.

"Primarily," I said. I might have sounded surprised. I know I felt surprise. I was pretty sure that, after the debacle at the restaurant, any hopes of lifting her out of that trash heap were gone. She had been pretty embarrassed.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay?" I wasn't sure she meant what it sounded like she meant.

"Okay. I'll come to work for you."

"Don't you want to know how much I'll pay you?" I asked.

She looked at me with those very adult eyes, in that very teenaged face.

"I don't think you'll try to screw me over." She looked back at the console. "Besides, with room and board included, I won't need all that much money."

I think I felt the worst for her at that moment.

She didn't even have any dreams left.

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It took all of an hour to pack up everything she owned and put it in my truck. When I saw what she had, I stopped at Walmart on the way home.

"I'll keep Dilly company," I said. "You go in and get yourself some clothes and all the stuff women need to look pretty. Get stuff for the boy too." I handed her my credit card.

"I can't do that," she said, but it was weakly said.

"I don't want my employee looking like I don't pay her shit," I said.

"Liar." Those adult eyes were looking at me again. "None of your customers are going to see me."

"We don't know that," I said. "I may take you along when I give a sales pitch."

"Why?"

I snorted. "You told me what men want. You think I'm above using a little eye candy to sell a system?"

"Eye candy?" She looked dubious.

"Get nice things," I said. "Consider it an advance on your salary."

"What is my salary?" she asked.

"So now you want to know?" I laughed.

"I need to know how long it's going to take me to pay you back," she said, her voice dignified.

"I haven't decided yet," I said. "But whatever it is, it will cover this shopping trip. Just don't spend more than a thousand dollars." I ignored her look of shock and went on. "Get some dresses, too. I want to be able to take you wherever I go, and sometimes I get invited to parties. Don't worry about evening gowns. We won't get that kind of thing here."

"Evening gowns," she said, her voice flat.

"Fancy parties. Rich people." I figured that said it all. "Those don't happen all that often. Usually it's a garden party or Bar-B-Q but sooner or later everybody wants to show off that they have a security specialist on the payroll. Makes 'em feel like they've hit the big time."

She got out of the car, and then leaned back in to look at me.

"A thousand dollars? Really?"

"Not more than," I reminded her.

I realized her eyes weren't dark brown, like I'd thought. They were actually green, though so dark as to look brown sometimes. She had a peculiar look on her face.

"Liar," she said, staring right at me.

"What now?" I groaned.

"You do want sex," she said, still staring right into my eyes. She snorted. "A thousand dollars!"

I felt nervous, for some reason. I couldn't tell if she was messing with me or not.

"Okay," I said, slowly. "Two hundred and fifty dollars. Not a dollar more. And I'll charge you interest. That's it. Satisfied?"

That peculiar look was still there. "Not yet," she said.

But before I could ask her what she meant, she reached to tickle Dilly, told him to be a good boy for Uncle Bob, and then walked away from the car.

-------

She returned to the car pushing one cart and pulling another. She handed me the card, along with the receipt, which was a foot long. She'd spent $465.74, but that included the crib that a stock boy was pushing on a dolly behind her.

One whole cart was filled with food. She mentioned, while passing me sacks to stow in the trunk, that she'd inspected my larder and found it to be empty. How full did a larder need to be? Admittedly, I hadn't thought about having more mouths to feed ... but I would have, eventually. And I ate out a lot, so all that was in my pantry were the things I liked to have around. Beef stew, ramen noodles, black olives, crackers to go with the cheese in the fridge. You know ... just regular food.

Penny, it turned out, liked to cook. I put on five pounds the first week she was there, but that's another story. As soon as I realized what was happening I added a mile to my daily run and that solved the problem. It was worth it.

Anyway, I moved her into the spare bedroom, assembled the crib, and tried to ignore it when she pulled up that shirt and bared a beautiful coral colored nipple to give it to Dilly. She didn't turn away from me when she did it, but she stood sideways, as if she were ignoring me. Still, I got the feeling she knew I watched as she got him going ... and that she didn't mind me watching.

She cooked for us that evening, and I got an idea of how delightful that was going to be.

Then after supper, she changed Dilly while I loaded the dishwasher. She gave him to me and said she was going to go take a shower. I held him on my lap while I channel-surfed, looking for something bright, with movement, so Dilly might be entertained. It was the first time I had stopped on the cartoon channel for longer than a few seconds. I was astonished by how quickly I was hooked.

When Penny came into the room, she was dressed in shorts and T shirt again. She was still braless, as announced by her nipples, but she also had a bra in her hands. She sat down in a chair off to one side of me and began fiddling with the bra. I heard the rip of a velcro type fastener and looked. It was a nursing bra and she was examining it. As she pulled the flap up on one side and I saw the hole in the tip of the bra cup, I felt my penis respond. Go figure. I'd seen her bare breast when she offered it to her son, and had only been interested. But now, seeing a garment that allowed a nipple to be uncovered, I was titillated.

I was still reflecting on that when she laid the bra beside her, reached for the hem of the shirt, and pulled it up and over her head, baring her entire upper body to me.

-------

"That is a little uncalled for, don't you think?" I stammered.

"You've been staring at them all day long," she said, picking up the bra and looking at it closely. "You obviously want to see them. All men do."

"That doesn't mean you have to show them to me," I said, staring at two delightfully beautiful, full, round breasts, with stiff nipples. I got harder. Dilly and I had been playing "stand up and sit down" while I held his hands and helped him stand up. He liked that game. Now he was dancing on my semi-erect penis, and he chose that time to bounce on those springy knees babies have.

"I trust you," she said.

"Trust has nothing to do with it," I said. "You're beautiful. It's affecting me."

"See? I can still tease you!" she said, shooting me a quick grin. "After all these years!"

Then she arranged the bra to cover up what I had been so avidly admiring. She "popped the top" of each cup a couple of times. Then, sitting there in the bra, she opened a package of nursing pads, popped the top of the right side, and tucked one in to cover the nipple. I was actually interested in how this all worked, in one sense, and I tried to pay attention to that aspect of things, rather than the breasts and nipples. But then she opened the left side and started pinching the nipple, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. I saw her bite her lower lip and frown, but then she said "Hand him to me."

I did, and she presented the nipple to him. He latched on immediately and those cheeks started working while she looked down at him like she had before.

"Damn," she said softly.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I just thought it might be different."

"Different how?" I asked.

"Never mind," she said.

And with that, she walked back into her bedroom to finish feeding him in private. 



-------

Chapter 2


The next morning I showed Penny how the monitoring station worked, and went over the business records I kept, and explained why I kept them. She wanted to know how the systems themselves worked, which called for a lecture on electronics and some math, but she sucked all that in with no problem. She had been making good grades before she dropped out of school.

When I thought of that, I Googled GED and found a number of entries, including some that said you could get a regular diploma online. I didn't trust those off hand, but I'd look into them later. I had a sales call and a warranty repair on a bad motion sensor to do that morning, so I told her to explore the GED thing herself and see if she could come up with a plan to finish school while working for me. She wasn't going to work for me forever, after all, so she'd need some kind of high school completion to move on with her life.

She wanted to know how to answer the phone, and how to get in touch with me, so I answered both questions and then took off to get work done.

When I got finished, I would normally have eaten out, but decided to go home instead. I hadn't asked Penny to fix me anything for lunch, but if she had, I didn't want it to go to waste. When I got there, and walked in, she was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, feeding Dilly.

And she was crying softly. It was that low, really hopeless kind of crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked, only a foot inside the doorway.

She jumped, and Dilly squawked as he lost the nipple he'd been sucking on. It looked very dark and large and turgid as her wide, tear-filled eyes rounded on me. She tried wiping her eyes and giving him the nipple back at the same time, which didn't work well, but eventually they got straightened out and he was sucking again.

"Nothing," she said, looking away.

"You were crying," I said. "That's not nothing."

"Look, it's no big deal, okay? I just still have things on my mind, that's all. How did your morning go? Did you make the sale? There's tuna salad in the fridge, and I cut up a cantaloupe. There are strawberries too."

It was obvious she didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering her. I figured it would come out when she was ready. Maybe, now that her life was a little more normal, she was upset about her parents being the enormous butt-faces they were.

"He's thinking about buying a system. It turned out a squirrel had chewed through the power cord to the motion sensor. He won't do that again. Fried the little sucker but good."

"That's awful!" she squeaked.

"Well, next time you're online, see what you can find for armored service wire, eighteen or twenty gauge. If you can find something that's not too expensive, we'll start using it in areas where little gnawing animals might be able to get to the wire."

"Okay," she said.

Apparently the nursing bra wasn't for use around the house. She was braless under the T shirt she was wearing, and when she finished with Dilly she just let the shirt fall to cover her breasts. I was beginning to think those nipples were permanently erect, but tried not to stare.

And that was the way it stayed, there at home. If we went out, she put on the nursing bra, and carried what I would have called a dish towel with her that she used to put over her shoulder and cover Dilly's head with as he nursed. But at home, she just went braless, and when it was time to feed him, simply bared a breast for him to suck on.

On this particular day, while I was eating my sandwich, I noticed that he spent ten minutes on one breast, but only two or three on the other. I asked her about it.

"He doesn't empty me," she said. "He eats really good, but I produce a lot of milk."

"Well," I said.

"Well, what?" she asked.

"He eats really well, not good."

"He thinks it's good," she said, one eyebrow rising.

"I'm sure he does," I said. "But you know what I mean. You're a professional woman now. You need to sound like it."

"Oh pish," she said. "Who cares about that stuff?"

"Customers care," I said. "If they hear a hillbilly talking, they'll think it's a hillbilly operation, with hillbilly service."

"I do not sound like a hillbilly," she said, obviously miffed.

"You know what I mean," I insisted.

"Why do grownups do that?" she complained. "Here I was, having a perfectly wonderful day, probably the best day I've had in months and months, and you have to go and ruin it by giving me talking lessons."

"Speech lessons," I corrected. I grinned. I thought she'd laugh.

She didn't. Instead, thunderclouds gathered on her face.

"Wa'll I'm sure soree, there, mister, that mah talkin' is so poorly an' all, but us hillbillies don't hardly git no edumucation lahk all them city slickers do. Whut I wuz sayin' wuz that my brat here don't suck 'nuff of my titty milk, an it leaves me kinder sore sometimes. That's why one of my titties is a little bigger'n t'other, I 'spect. You s'pose?"

"Take it easy," I said, no longer smiling. "It's not that big a deal."

"Well if it's not that big a deal, then why did you bring it up?" she yelled.

Dilly got upset, because his mother was upset.

I got blamed for that too.

-------

That night, I woke up in that special way that makes the waker tense, suspecting something is wrong. Usually it's because the waker thinks some sound woke him, but that sound has gone, now, and it's worrisome. It's happened to you before. Maybe you thought somebody - a stranger - was in the house. Of course, usually, you figure it out. The furnace banged. One of the kids went to the bathroom and flushed the stool. Maybe someone in the house coughed.

But that night I couldn't figure out why I had awakened.

Then I heard the sob. It was soft, but I recognized it instantly. Penny was crying again.

I got up and went barefoot to her room. She had installed a nightlight in the outlet on one wall, probably because she still had to get up and feed Dilly in the night, and that made it easier to see and change his diaper and so forth.

She was sitting on a hard backed chair she'd borrowed from the kitchen, and feeding Dilly. I realized she must sleep nude, because the only clothing being worn in that bedroom was the diaper on the baby. And she was sobbing gently, whispering "I love you," to her son.

I almost didn't go in. I figured she was still missing David, Dilly's father, and the only thing I would be tempted to tell her was that she was well shut of him, and to move on with her life. Since she probably wouldn't want to hear that, I almost didn't go in.

But she was in pain, and my job, as her uncle, not to mention only friendly relative, was to support her. So I cleared my throat and stepped into the room.

She jumped, squeaked in distress, and clutched Dilly to her breast.

"You okay?" I asked. I never was any good at ice breaking.

"I'm naked!" she yipped. Then her head tilted. "You're naked!"

That's when I remembered I sleep nude too. I know that, in the movies, or on TV, when someone gets up at night and goes to investigate something, they get dressed. But in real life, they come as they are, so to speak, grabbing the golf club, or ball bat or whatever, and tending to business first and fashion later. Maybe before the cops get there after you've beaned the intruder.

"I heard you crying," I said. "Again," I added. I figured I might as well go for broke. "And based on the little boy fastened to your breast right now, you've seen a naked man before. I'm more worried about why you keep crying, and why you won't talk to me about it."

She was quiet for quite a while, but I learned a long time ago that when a woman wants to be quiet, to let her, because she's probably thinking about things. Men tend to do, rather than think, but sometimes thinking is the better choice.

"I don't want to tell you," she finally whispered.

"Obviously," I said. "But if you keep crying all the time, neither of us will be happy."

"I don't cry all the time," she defended.

"True," I admitted immediately. I didn't want to argue.

There was a pregnant pause, and then she said "Only when Dilly's eating."

That gave me pause. I couldn't figure out why the act of a baby eating would make a woman sad.

So I took the psychologist approach. "It might help if you talked about it."

"You'll think I'm a pervert."

Dilly fussed and she changed him to the other breast. Even in the relative darkness I could see how large and distended the "used" nipple was. I felt a twinge in my penis, and slight panic in my chest. I couldn't back out now.

"I find it extremely difficult to imagine anything you could say that would make me think you are a pervert," I said.

"You will!" she insisted. "It's not normal!"

"What's not normal?"

She moaned. "I am a pervert! It happens even when you're watching! I thought if you watched, that would make it go away, but it's not! Uncle Bob, what am I going to do?"

I went and got down on a knee beside her.

"Honey, please ... just tell me what's wrong. Please. I want to help you, but I can't if you won't talk about it."

Her head turned toward me, her blond hair bright in the semi-darkness. It was easy to imagine those dark green eyes staring at me.

"When he sucks ... I have feelings," she whispered.

I admit it. I was a bit brusque.

"Of course you have feelings!" I said brusquely. "He's your son!"

"That's the problem!" she practically shouted. "He is my son! And I shouldn't get horny from my own son sucking my nipples!"

-------

When you're a big, mean ex-cop, a man of the world, a guy who's seen it all, who's rough and tough and hard to bluff and used to many a hardship ... you can't really be prepared to confront a situation like that. First of all, most guys never get their nipples sucked. And I'm just guessing here, but those who do, don't get off on it very much. Men's breasts are vestigial, and the nipples with them. And while the primary purpose of a woman's nipples are to deliver milk, they have lots of nerve endings in them to assist in that. Some of those nerve endings are good for other things too. But most men don't have the same nerve endings. I'm not a doctor, but that's what I think, based on my own body.

So the first problem is that men can't imagine what a woman feels when her nipples are lovingly sucked. It's kind of like our orgasms. Both genders have them, but the mechanics are completely different, and the sensations are too.

Then there was the fact that, over the years, I'd been attracted, sexually, towards people I wasn't supposed to be sexually attracted to. Every boy, at some time in his life, realizes his mother is hot, on some level or another. Most boys are interested in seeing what their sisters look like naked. Actually, to be more nearly correct, most boys are interested in seeing any woman naked, whether she's related to them or not. And don't snort and say that boys don't want to see what ugly, or fat women look like naked. Every driven by a train wreck? Part of you didn't want to look. Did you look anyway?

Of course you did.

So maybe guys think about these things from a different perspective. Suffice it to say that I did not consider this to be the world-shaking event that Penny obviously did.

I stood up too fast, and swayed on my feet, light-headed.

"Oh my!" yipped Penny, whose head was still turned toward me.

I looked down to find that maybe I hadn't stood up too fast after all. Maybe the reason I was light-headed was because every extra drop of blood in my body was now being used to sustain a really nice erection. Well, not nice, exactly ... not under the circumstances. But it was one of those rock hard ones a guy is normally proud of, if you get my meaning. I realized, somewhat dully, that the concept of a naked Penny being turned on by having her nipples sucked ... had affected me on an unconscious level. And what was now jutting from my groin was only a couple of inches from Penny's lips. For some goofy reason I imagined her eyes again, except this time they were cross-eyed.

"Sorry," I said. I squatted again. My knees complained. My mind wasn't listening to them, though, because it was trying too hard to come up with something to mitigate the unfortunate circumstances I found myself in.

"About the being turned on thing," I said. "I think you're probably over thinking it. A lot of that stuff works on an unconscious level. It's just biology. Stuff can just happen, even when you don't want it to."

I waited for her to say "Like just happened to you?" but she didn't.

Instead, she said "It makes me feel so dirty."

I could hear deep pain in her voice, the kind of pain caused by self-loathing. And self-loathing can poison a person's entire life. Maybe it was that that led me to try to convince her she wasn't the only sinner in the world, so to speak.

"Look," I said. "Do you believe I love you?"

"You have to," she said.

"The same could be said of your parents, but that's obviously not true."

"They're right not to love me," she whispered.

"Stay with me here, Penny," I said, somewhat gruffly. "Do you believe that I love you?"

Another pause, but then a soft "Yes."

"And could I have tossed you in the trash, like your parents did?"

No pause this time. "Yes."

"But I didn't."

"That's true." This time there was a note of wonder in her voice.

"And the reason I didn't, is because I really do love you. Not because I have to, but because I just do."

"I don't understand that," she said.

"You will someday," I said, unwilling to expand the conversation in that direction. Trying to prove love exists can be a frustrating and painful argument. I needed to get her to have a little faith first, and then maybe understanding would come later. "But the point is that I care about what happens to you, and I want you to be happy and successful in life. Do you believe that?"

"Yes," she said, quietly.

"And I did not bring you here to have sex with you. Do you believe that too?"

"Yes!" She said it with so much conviction that it made me want to ask her why she was so convicted. I didn't, though.

"And yet, just now, my body reacted to you. Something natural happened, not because I wanted it to, or was trying to, but just because that's how my body works sometimes. Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not," she said.

"Then don't be afraid of what Dilly's natural actions do to you either," I said. "It's normal for your nipples to react to being suckled."

I would have been fine if I'd have just stopped there. But my mind was working so fast and I was trying so hard to show her how trivial this problem really was, that I sort of coasted on a bit. Somehow I added: "I can even prove it."

There was another of those long, pregnant pauses just then. That's because I had made that last little comment without thinking it through. What had popped into my mind, while I was talking about Dilly sucking her nipples, was ... well... me sucking her nipples. It was just an errant thought. But the inherent legitimacy of the argument was there. My brain was telling me that it was likely that if I sucked her nipples, it would turn her on too. Makes sense, right?

Well, actually, there probably needs to be an emotional bond of some sort between the woman and whoever is sucking her nipples. I mean if it's some guy who disgusts her, it isn't likely to work. But a mind like mine - only half there sometimes, if you get my drift - sees things on a more simple level. That didn't mean I should share that with her, though.

"How can you prove it?" she asked. After that long pause, her question was probably a real one, and not just her, being polite.

"Well..." I said, thinking furiously. "I'm sure I could design an experiment that would give us the kind of empirical data that would support my hypothesis, in such a way as to overcome your objections to accepting my premise."

"Uncle Bob," she said, her voice quite calm. "That's double talking BS. You said you could prove it. How?"

I sighed. I had an idea. "You know how you thought I'd think you were a pervert if you got sexual feelings from nursing him?" She nodded. "Well, something silly popped into my mind, that's all. If I told you what it was, you'd think I was the pervert. It was just a guy thought. Forget that. Like I said, it was silly. Let's concentrate instead on how normal you are, and how what's happening to you does not make you a pervert in any way, shape or form, okay?"

"No! It's not okay. People keep treating me like I'm a little kid. I made a mistake. I had a baby. I know I was too young ... and that it was a bad idea. Maybe if I could have asked somebody some questions, it might not have happened. I don't know. All I know is that nobody will answer your questions when you're a teenager. I couldn't go to my mom because all she'd do is yell at me for thinking about sex. My dad was even worse. Well, I had the baby and I can't un-have him. I don't want to un-have him. I love him. But how can I ever learn things if nobody will answer my questions? So if you don't mind... how can you prove I'm not a pervert?"

"Sweetheart ... it was stupid," I groaned.

"Uncle Bob!" she yelled. Dilly started fussing again.

I gave up. She'd get over it eventually. I just told her.

"I thought that ... If I sucked them ... you'd feel exactly the same thing," I whispered.

She blinked four or five times, staring right at me.

"You think so?" she asked.

"I'm sure of it," I said, relieved she wasn't shouting at me. "Like I said, nipples are designed to have feelings. All those nerve endings and stuff ... they can't help but send signals places. Didn't you like having them sucked..." I stopped. I had been about to ask my sweet, innocent teenaged niece if she had liked to have the boys suck her tender nipples. I felt my cock jerk between my legs. It felt heavier than usual, somehow.

"By David?" she finished for me. Smart girl, Penny. "He never did it. He was always in a hurry. He complained if he couldn't get off pretty quick. Sometimes he said I wasn't being sexy enough."

"That's because he had the intelligence of a gnat," I said. "He was a conceited, imbecilic, unenlightened, moronic, uninformed, selfish idiot who is unimaginably lucky he's outside the length of my current reach. He'll be lucky if somebody cuts his nuts off before I see him again."

"Uncle Bob!" Penny chided. She looked shocked.

There was so much to say. But we had time. Assuming she didn't get scared of me molesting her or something.

"You were at a disadvantage in the first place," I said. "Having little experience with men before he got his hooks into you, he was able to push you into things, and control you. I bet you asked him to use a condom and he refused ... or "forgot" to bring one ... right?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "I never even thought about getting pregnant. What we were doing just felt good, so I kept doing it. I should have thought about pregnancy ... but ... I don't know ... I just never did. It was too exciting to be with him, I guess. I never told him to stop or anything." Her shoulders slumped. I saw a sudden tear overflow her left eye and roll down her cheek. "I was a slut then ... and I'm a slut now," she moaned.

"You have got to stop feeling sorry for yourself!" I said, without thinking about how harsh that might sound.

"Well how am I supposed to feel?" she complained. "My parents act like I'm dead. My boyfriend ran out on me. My panties get wet every time I feed my baby!"

"Your parents, being human beings, are just as likely to be consumed with stupidity as anybody else," I said, holding up one finger. "You're way better off without your boyfriend than you were with him." I held up another, to make two. Then I added the third one. "And I already told you that if anybody sucked your nipples - and that probably includes other women you feel close to - that you'd react in the same way. You've got to stop looking at things like you're a helpless victim, and start looking at where you want your life to go."

"I'm not a lesbian!" she squeaked.

"Of course you're not," I agreed. "All I'm saying is that your nipples were made to be sucked, and when that happens, don't be surprised if it feels good!"

I admit I got a little gruff there at the end. I think I was a bit frustrated. I know I raised my voice a little, because I saw Dilly jump.

"Not so loud!" she complained. "He's asleep!"

She stood up and went to the changing table, which at present was a piece of plywood screwed to the top of a short chest of drawers I'd gotten at the goodwill store. It was covered with a plastic table cloth, over which there was a blanket. She changed his diaper and the little tyke slept through the whole procedure. I found myself admiring the curve of her back, and the distinctly hourglass shape of her naked backside. I stood up and, with my cock saluting her at ramrod attention, turned to leave.

"Don't go!" she said in a loud whisper over her shoulder.

"It's not appropriate for me to be here naked," I said.

"Like that's the worst thing that ever happened to me?" I was surprised that sarcasm could be so clearly heard in a whisper.

And then she was putting him down in the crib on his back, and turning to step toward me. Her front looked even better than her back. I noticed, with some shock, that there was no hint of hair where her legs joined her torso. Even though the light was dim, I could see her Venus cleft clearly, the dividing line between her pale labia dark.

She walked right up to me, invading my personal space, but not actually touching me.

"I want to know," she said.

"Know what?" I asked.

"If it feels the same way when someone else ... sucks them."

"It does," I said firmly. My cock bobbed up and down and I felt it touch something. We both looked down and saw that she was standing close enough to me that when it bobbed up, it had touched those pouting labia I'd seen.

"This is insane," I said.

"I've always had such a huge crush on you," she sighed.

"That's ridiculous," I said.

"And it always made me feel like such a little girl ... before now." She leaned closer and the two hot tips of her breasts brushed my chest.

"Look, Sweetie," I said, my throat tight. "This is a very bad idea."

"At least you love me," she said. "I understand now that David didn't. Is it any worse than what I did with David?"

"Well we certainly aren't going to do what you did with David," I rasped. My cock was sending signals to my brain to shut down my speech centers, before I ruined his very early morning.

"I know," she said. "But I have to know, Uncle Bob. I've felt like a slut for so long. My mom even called me that. And the feelings when Dilly sucks are so strong. Please. I have to know!"

She pulled me to the chair. My knees weren't working quite right. Her hand in mine felt so hot. I knew I had come down with some dread disease, because my brain wasn't working well at all. I felt a little dizzy, in fact. What she was asking for was something I wanted too. I knew I wasn't supposed to have it ... but I wanted it.

She sat me down and then sat sideways on my lap. I winced about the same time she stood partway back up and reached to move my diamond hard penis so that when she sat back down it was between her legs. She ignored it then, and moved my head, presenting me with the breast Dilly had been sucking from only minutes before.

"This one," she said, her voice soft, but firm. "He didn't empty this side. If it tastes yucky I'll understand. You can spit it out ... but go long enough I can find out ... you know."

I leaned forward. My lips captured the turgid nipple.

-------

The only reason I feel bad, even today, is that I could have stopped. At the moment I decided to break the taboo, I had the strength to stop. But I didn't want to. It wasn't that I knew she'd be mad. She would have gotten over that. I'm sure of it. And it wasn't that she needed someone to love her. That was true, but I didn't have to love her that way to help her. No, I just wanted her like she thought she wanted me. I was pretty sure that would change in the near future, but I was also sure that I would be able to deal with that too. Taking a little taste now, no pun intended, didn't mean I'd lose it completely and go for broke. I knew I could resist that too, if the urge ever hit me.

So I admit, right up front, that I went into things willingly. I'm not going to try to blame it on uncontrollable impulse.

I sucked, tentatively at first, maybe three or four little pulls, and then sweet warmth burst into my mouth. I'd never tasted breast milk before, and was a little astonished to find it so sweet and delicious.

Then her "Mmmmmmm" penetrated my consciousness. I've been around. I know an "Mmmmm" of happiness when I hear one. Then her hands came to hold me to her breast and ... well, I won't try to avoid the issue either ... I emptied that breast.

Rather avidly, though I wasn't thinking about that at the time.

When I finished, I realized she was masturbating with my penis, pushing it against her clit with one hand.

"Whoa down, little girl," I said, licking my lips.

"I know," she panted. "Just for a minute."

"I don't think so," I said. "What we already did is bad enough."

"I know that too," she said. "Just a few seconds longer. Um ... could you suck the other one, please?"

It had gone way beyond 'experimentation' now, and it was clear we both knew it. But she was firmly on my lap, and I had one arm across her thighs, so I could keep her from rising up and trying to impale herself. So I sucked the other one. No milk in that one. Just nice, firm nipple.

Within a few seconds she shuddered and whimpered and I was afraid she might puncture the head of my cock where it was rubbing her vulva, but she went limp. I moved my arms to cradle her and stood before she could do anything else, carrying her to the bed. I laid her down, perhaps a bit roughly, stayed long enough to kiss her on the forehead, told her I loved her, and then vamoosed.

I didn't even make it back to my bedroom before my right hand jerked the spunk out of my penis. I had to go get a towel and clean up the mess I left in the hallway, lest she see it when she got up in the morning.

-------

I didn't sleep all that well that night. I think I was worried about how she'd feel in the morning.

But there wasn't any way of avoiding things, so I got up like normal, and made coffee like normal and had cereal on the table, like normal.

And when she came in, she came straight to me and hugged me, and then went to the fridge and got the milk out ... just like normal.

She was dressed, that morning, in my robe, which she had obviously filched from my closet. She also had on my bunny rabbit slippers, which meant she'd been digging deep in my stuff, because I'd forgotten I even had them.

She got three bites before Dilly cried from the bedroom.

"I let him sleep," she said, needlessly, as she got up and left her cereal on the table.

She came back with him fastened to a mostly bare breast. The robe was still belted, but in pulling it apart enough to feed him, it had also pulled apart lower down. She had on yellow panties.

She sat down and ate with one hand, while cradling her son with the other. He sucked both noisily and contentedly.

"Thank you," she said between bites.

I wasn't about to ask what for. I just said "You're welcome."

It was a little unsettling. I admit it. I kept expecting her to say something, or demand something, or accuse me of something. But all she did was ask me what was on the schedule for the day, and if there was anything special she needed to do while I was gone.

I went about my business that day, having plenty of time, since I no longer had as much to worry about back in the office. I admit I was a little leery of going home for lunch. I could have. I mean I had the time. But I was still unprepared to face her. She was taking all this awfully well. Or bottling it all up inside. One of the two. But, being the coward I had suddenly turned into (and wasn't impressed being, by the way) I spent three hours at the public library, online, looking for new sources of supply, and new products, and reading blogs about security and so forth. I didn't go home until it was time for supper.

When I got there, there was ham and beans in the crock pot, and fresh cornbread on top of the stove, with a towel covering it so it wouldn't dry out too much. Dilly was in a windup swing I'd never seen before, but which looked used. I heard the door to the dryer close, and the machine turn on. Penny came into the room wearing short shorts and one of my shirts, unbuttoned, but tied in a knot at the waist. She jumped when she saw me.

"Ooo! You scared me!" she said.

"Sorry."

She looked immediately contrite. "I think I broke a rule today."

"What rule?" I asked.

"I found some money in your sock drawer."

"You were snooping?" I asked, making my right eyebrow go up.

"Yes," she freely admitted. "You have such interesting stuff. "But I took Dilly for a walk, and there was a garage sale, and they had a stroller and that swing over there and some baby clothes ... so I took some of your money. I'll pay you back. I promise."

"You took it before you went to the garage sale?" I asked.

"No." She looked shocked. "I came back and got it. The lady at the sale saved the stuff for me."

"And how did you get it all back here?" I asked.

"I got the stroller too. I just put the stuff on it. It took two trips."

She looked nervous. All I could think about was that most adults wouldn't have walked there once, much less six times.

"How much was it?" I asked.

"Twelve dollars," she said. "Are you mad?"

"Well, Sweetheart, you see, that was special money. It's money I took away from a crook. It's counterfeit. And when that woman tries to spend it, or deposit it in the bank, she's probably going to get arrested." I kept my face straight.

You'd have thought I'd kicked a puppy. I almost didn't get a chance to tell her I was joking before she was out the door. I think she intended to run to wherever it was and confess, or something like that.

I learned that day that Penny doesn't take that kind of joke well. She got her new stroller, which was a pretty nice one, with those twelve inch mountain bike tires on it, and got Dilly out of the swing and put him in it. She looked at me.

"Supper's in the kitchen. I'm taking Dilly to go get ice cream. I kept some of your money. I took twenty-five dollars. We'll be back when I don't feel like kicking you any more." 



-------

Chapter 3

I was watching a movie called Tucker & Dale vs. Evil on Netflix when she got home. It's a really goofy movie, but a lot of fun. She didn't say anything as she walked past me. She unloaded Dilly, and left the stroller in the corner of the living room. She disappeared into her bedroom and then came out with Dilly's diaper bag. She handed him to me and I saw she was sweating and still breathing deeply.

"You get chased by a dog?" I asked.

"I see what running does for you, so I went for a run," she said, with a dark look that suggested I was not yet safe from being kicked. "Change his diaper. I'm going to take a shower."

"No problem," I said, trying to mend fences. "Take your time."

Tucker & Dale vs. Evil isn't exactly a movie that's good for little ones. Teenagers were dying by the flock as I changed Dilly's diaper. But he didn't know that, and all the noise and movement was just noise and movement to him. I thought about putting him in his swing again. He'd seemed to like that. But I knew he needed interaction with real people too, so I kept him on my lap and played games with him.

We were playing 'stand up and sit down' again when his mother came out of the bathroom. She was drying her hair with a towel, all piled up on her head.

She was wearing my robe again. It was tied loosely.

"What are you watching?" she asked, as a young woman screamed and expired bloodily.

I was distracted by the folds of that robe covering and uncovering her pussy as her hands moved the towel over her head.

"It's called Tucker and Dale versus evil," I said.

"That has to be rated R," she said, ruffling her hair harder. The belt of the robe slipped and it gapped open below her waist. She wasn't wearing the yellow panties this time. She wasn't wearing any panties at all. I was shocked to see, on her mons pubis, a small red blob that looked suspiciously like a tattoo. I tore my eyes away from there and lifted them, only to be confronted with her breasts jiggling delightfully under the robe as she rubbed her scalp hard with the towel.

"Um ... yeah, I guess," I said.

"Dilly shouldn't be seeing that kind of thing!" she barked.

"He's not paying any attention to it," I said. "We're playing games."

"I can't believe you let him watch that before bedtime," she complained, leaning over to take him from me. The robe opened enough to show me a nice, round breast with an erect nipple on it. "He's probably going to have nightmares!"

"He will not," I scoffed.

"He'd better not," she warned.

She took him off to put him down. She was gone a long time. I heard thumps and bangs, like she was moving furniture around, but when I called out asking if she needed help, she yelled "No. Just watch your stupid movie."

So I watched my stupid movie.

-------

Penny was gone about half an hour, I suppose. She came into the living room at one point and sat on the couch, drawing her legs up under her. She watched with me for a few minutes in silence, apparently either having seen it already, or just uninterested in what had gone on before. Then she got up and came over to me.

"I'm going to bed," she said. She leaned over to give me a kiss, and the robe showed me everything she had. I looked, of course, and she paused there until I looked up at her eyes. She'd been watching me ogling her. It was obvious. But all she said was "I love you, even when you make me mad."

"I love you too," I said.

"I know," she replied, looking at me intently. "Night."

I watched her walk up the stairs, wishing she didn't have that robe on. I knew I should feel like a heel ... but I didn't.

I watched the rest of the movie and then turned everything off and went to bed in the dark. I knew my way around the house. I'd practiced moving around in the dark, just in case anybody ever broke in and I needed to make them rue the day they'd picked my place.

So I wasn't prepared to crash into something between my bedroom door and the bed.

My hands told me it was Dilly's crib. In my room. I had a sudden vision in my mind of Penny ... in my bed instead of her own ... naked. I made my way around Dilly's crib and got to the bed. I ran my hands over the covers ... seeking ... anxious to find bare flesh.

Except there wasn't any.

I turned on my reading light. My bed was still made ... empty. I looked around. There was a baby in the crib, but no naked mamma anywhere. I went looking and found her in her bedroom, fast asleep, wearing a long T shirt. I might have been a tad bit grumpy when I woke her up.

"You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Is he hungry? What time is it?"

"It's ten o'clock," I said.

"It's too soon. He never eats until midnight. Go back to bed."

"Why is Dilly in my room?" I asked, with forced patience.

"Because if he has a nightmare you're going to deal with it," she said. "Now go away and leave me alone. I need my sleep."

I stood, staring at her. She had already rolled away from me and curled up in a ball. She looked cold, but didn't try to pull any covers over her. I stepped back.

"What happens when he wakes up hungry?" I asked.

"You obviously know where I am," came her muffled reply.

-------

Back in my room I got undressed. I stood, looking at Dilly. Sleeping babies are impossible to resist. They melt even the hardest heart. Not that mine was all that hard. I realized I was being 'punished.' I didn't think it was for the joke about the counterfeit money. That had happened too long ago. But you never know with women. Sometimes they can hold a grudge for a heck of a long time. I could smell the scent of baby coming from the crib. That's hard to resist too, but I left him alone instead of picking him up like I wanted to. Instead, I climbed in bed and fell asleep.

About two minutes later Dilly fussed. I rolled over and sat up. The clock at my bedside said it was after midnight, which was clearly impossible. He fussed some more and I got up to check his diaper. He was awake and sucking his forefinger.

"You hungry, buddy?" I asked.

He kicked and sucked. I took that for a "Yes!"

I picked him up and took him to his mother. She was a little groggy, but sat up on the edge of the bed and lifted up her shirt to bare a breast. The rest of her was naked under the shirt, but that was the last thing I needed to pay attention to. What's good for the gander is good for the goose, so I left him there with her and went back to bed.

I'd slept another two minutes when a warm, naked body climbed into bed with me.

"Finish me off," came her purring voice, as a warm breast was pressed to my face.

I was sucking sweet, warm milk before I woke up enough to realize I'd been had.

-------

I sucked that breast dry. Again, I freely admit that I did it voluntarily and intentionally. She was obviously okay with it. But I pushed her away when she tried to give me the other one. She had been trying to wiggle up next to me too, but I kept changing positions, keeping her on her back as much as possible and holding her down while I sucked. Her hand was wandering around too, and I made sure she never got it to my rock hard prick. She was playing games with me, and I wasn't interested.

"Come on, Uncle Bob," she moaned.

"You can sleep here," I said. "Or you can take him back to your room and sleep there. But sleep is all you're going to do."

"You're a turd," she complained.

"Yes, a big, stinky turd, which won't fit in any diaper you have, so leave me alone."

I actually expected her to take him back to her room, but she didn't. She stretched out next to me and was quiet. Ten minutes later I realized she was masturbating. I think she started stroking herself as soon as she decided to stay, but she got more and more agitated until it moved the whole bed. I should have kicked her out, but I didn't. I just let her get her cookies. I was still hard, but I was mad enough at her game playing that it was okay.

It might have been hard when I went to sleep, but it was soft again when I woke up later.

-------

I was a little uneasy to find her sitting on the side of the bed feeding him again when I woke up the next morning. Obviously she'd gotten up and gotten him from the crib, and I hadn't awakened. That bothered me, since the Army taught me to sleep light.

She was naked, and when I moved, she looked over her shoulder at me.

"Morning," she said."

"Hi," I said back.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You're forgiven." I was trying to show her how not to hold a grudge.

"You're right, you know," she said.

"I usually am," I replied, sitting up.

"I don't mind him making me horny any more."

"Good," I said.

"And I like being horny with you."

"Yeah ... well ... that's not the best idea you came up with lately," I suggested.

"I know, but I can't help it. I've been madly in love with you since I was eight."

"I believe you said crush before," I reminded her.

"You know what I mean. Puppy love," she said.

"Yes, puppy love."

"But I'm not a puppy any more," she pointed out.

"You are, compared to me," I said.

"You're not that old," she said. She changed Dilly to her other breast. "Don't go anywhere. I'm going to need you in a minute."

"You don't actually need me," I said. "It's not like you'll swell up and burst."

She looked over her shoulder at me again.

"Okay, I'm going to want you in a minute. Please don't go anywhere."

"This isn't a good idea, Penny," I groaned.

She didn't answer. Instead, she filled up her baby like he was at a little baby gas station - milk station - and then laid him on the bed and kissed him about a zillion times while telling him she loved him. Then, naked, she crawled over to me.

"I don't have much to be thankful for ... except Dilly and you," she said. "I know nobody else would understand this, but I'm not going to tell anyone, and neither are you, and I don't really care what they think anyway. I feel safe and loved with you. I like that feeling. I like being horny with you, especially if you cooperate with me a little. I'm not asking for much ... just a little something to feel good about. Is that asking so much?"

"If I were Mr. Jones, who you met on the subway, it would be just fine," I said.

"If you were Mr. Jones, I wouldn't be here naked with you," she said. "It isn't Mr. Jones I want. It's you."

I sighed. "I get that, honey. I understand perfectly. I understand it because I know how I feel about you. But that doesn't make it right, and that doesn't make things work. Society's rules are there for a reason."

"I know all about society's rules. My parents were full of them. They beat me with them like they were whips. The rules mattered more than their flesh and blood daughter!" She sounded mad, but didn't look it. "So far the rules haven't done much for me. I know I broke some of them, but before that, when I was a good little girl and did everything like I was supposed to, all I got was more rules and more lectures, until I felt like I had to break a rule just so I'd know I was really alive!"

"And don't you feel alive now?" I asked.

Those dark, green eyes stared into mine. "I feel like I'm alive for the first time since I can remember. I love being here with you ... being able to just be myself. You don't judge me. I'm happy here, happier than I think I've ever been anywhere."

"That's because you know where my secret stash is in my sock drawer," I said.

She didn't laugh. "Knowing I won't starve ... that Dilly can see a doctor if he gets sick ... yes, that makes me feel a lot better. But it's more than that. Lots of people have told me they love me. But when you say it, I know it's true. I can feel it being true, deep in here." She pointed between naked breasts. "I know I'm young, that I have a lot to learn. But I also know when I feel something genuine. I always knew David loved other things more than he loved me. I knew he just wanted to fuck me. But I thought I could change him. I thought he'd start loving me for real ... that Dilly would make him love me. I know now how stupid that was. But it taught me how to recognize real love."

"That still doesn't make it right," I said.

"And you saying that, above all other things you've done for me," she said, "is the proof that your love for me is real. And that's why I don't care if it's right or wrong. I just care that it's real."

We might have continued the conversation, using rational arguments to illuminate our points of view. I might have resisted the incredible temptation to leap for joy at the thought that this delightful young woman wanted me.

Except just about then she crawled on top of me and kissed me.

-------

Let me take a quick poll.

Okay. How many forty-year-old single men out there are interested in having a sweet, naked, willing, seventeen-year-old young woman crawl on top of them for kisses, and to have her nipples sucked, and who knows what else?

Yeah. I thought so. So why would I be any different? Especially since I already knew this girl ... had a relationship with her... liked her for who she was?

"Liar!" she moaned into my mouth, her slippery lips sliding all over mine.

"What?" I said, as her tongue flicked between my lips.

She squeezed my cock ... my iron hard cock ... and that was the first time I realized her hand was on it.

"You do want to have sex with me," she said, and kissed me again.

I pushed her away from me. It just so happened that when I did, my hands were on her breasts.

"Oww!" she complained. I realized that one of them was pretty full, still, and might be sore. I tried to tell which one, based on how they felt.

"We weren't talking about having sex," I said. "We were talking about fooling around a little bit ... maybe getting you off, like last time.

"Okay," she said, and promptly scooted herself up until the penis in her hand was mashing into her sex.

"Hang on there!" I gasped. The tip was already surrounded by hot flesh.

"This is what I did last time," she panted, swabbing the tip of my boner along her slit. She was dripping. Her fist squeezed my cock like she was hanging off a cliff, and that was the only thing she was hanging from. She made a sound in her throat as she diddled her clit with my prick.

"Penny!" I warned.

I don't know what I expected her to do. What she did was rub my cock around in her opening while she kissed me. She was working hard at it, but I could tell by her breathing that she wasn't going to get where she wanted to go. I could feel the frustration in her as she dug the tip of my cock deeper and deeper into her pussy.

So I pushed her off of me. She complained, and I told her to be quiet. She ignored me and kept complaining until I slid my hand between her legs and penetrated her with my middle finger. When I did that, it was like she was one of Pavlov's dogs. She flopped loosely onto her back, spread her legs, and panted happily.

While I was at it, I went back to sucking on those nipples. She was a very happy girl, almost too happy in the sense that she was obviously having such a good time that I kind of doubted she'd had this good a time in her past. What I mean by that is that rather than really being like one of Pavlov's dogs - trained to respond to a particular stimulus - I began to realize this was more the paralysis of experiencing something shocking for the first time. It was puzzling, because if a teenager has experience at anything, it's usually petting, you know?

At any rate, I gave her a nice, strong orgasm and a nice, warm kiss, and left her lying there, naked, twisted, and relaxed, smiling happily.

-------

I had a sales appointment that day, out at Acorn Acres, a suburb of homes that were both too large and too expensive, but which sold like hotcakes because having a house there was the best way for people to promote yourself into the upper categories of society. I had installed four systems in that development, and had met all kinds of people. I learned quickly that just because they came into money doesn't mean they share the same beliefs and values.

My sales pitch involves showing the prospective client case studies of other people's houses, which were either burglarized, broken into or invaded. By the time I'm done, they're usually paranoid.

In this case, Jim Tennon, the owner, seemed to already be paranoid when I got there. I breezed through the pitch and asked him to show me the house, so I could give him an estimate. He was an architect, and as he walked me through the house, he said he'd designed himself. He pointed out how having teenagers in a family could put a real damper on a couple's sex life, so he'd put the master bedroom at one end of the house, and the kids' bedrooms at the other end, and upstairs, as far away from the parents as possible. But, as distance insulated the sounds of parental sex from the children, it also insulated the parents from the sounds of whatever was happening at the kids' end of the house, so he wanted it well protected.

In each room I took notes on square footage, number and types of windows and various other things. At one point he led me into his older daughter's room. She was a nice looking girl in the pictures scattered around. She was a cheerleader, apparently, based both on photographs and banners hung on the wall. The room was decorated in a way that suggested she'd lived in it for a long time. By that, I mean it had been completely pink at one time, but other colors were beginning to take over. I walked by a big brass birdcage, on a tall stand, with some kind of multicolored parrot sitting on a little swing hanging from the top of the cage.

"This is Carly's room," said Jim. "She's my seventeen-year-old." I started taking notes.

"Does the bird ever fly around free?" I asked, thinking about motion detectors.

"Oh no," said Jim. "He stays in the cage all the time."

"Okay," I said. "That makes things easier."

"You want a soda or beer or something?" he asked, looking around. "I'm parched."

"Sure," I said.

He went through asking me what kind I wanted, and named off a list of what they had. I told him anything would do, and he left.

If he knew what happened next, he'd probably wish he'd stayed thirsty.

I was writing down a description of the window when the bird started talking.

"Ohhhh Daddy!" it said.

I glanced over at it. It was walking back and forth, sideways, on the perch of the swing. I looked at the door. Nobody was there. And it had obviously been the bird speaking. Just for shits and grins, I said "Ohhhh Daddy."

The bird ruffled its feathers and said "Ohhh Daddy ... deeper Daddy ... do me real deep!"

I burst out laughing and the bird bent its knees, pumping up and down rapidly while it said "Huh ... huh ... huh ... huh!"

I about lost it. I wondered if Jim had any idea what this bird had learned while it stayed in its cage all the time.

It went into a rapid-paced series of "fuck me," so rapid that if I hadn't already known what it was talking about I might not have understood it, and then, after an amazingly real sounding, if a bit shrill "Ahhhhhhhh," the bird went silent.

I felt like offering the bird a cigarette, figuring it was all over. I wondered if Jim knew that his daughter had some naughty little fantasy about him that she indulged in as she rubbed her seventeen-year-old clitty.

Then the bird, in a perfect imitation of Jim's voice (except an octave higher and in obvious bird words) said: "Oh baby, I love you so much."

I made sure I was in the thirteen-year-old son's room, on the other side of the bathroom between the two bedrooms, by the time Jim got back with my Sierra Mist.

On the way home I wished I'd used my smart phone to record the bird. It would be a sensation on You Tube. At least as long as they let me keep it up there.

Of course the other thing I kept thinking about was how perfectly normal Jim seemed to be. And the pictures of Carly covered at least ten years ... always showing a smiling, happy looking girl. Whatever was going on to teach that bird all those things didn't seem to be hurting anybody a bit.

-------

Knowing ... or at least assuming ... that Jim was taking care of Carly's adolescent passions, affected me more than I would have thought. When I got home, and Penny gave me a welcome home hug, it fired me up, both fast and furious. It suddenly occurred to me that Carly was taking care of her father's needs as well. True, regardless of how happy everybody looked, it was still a fucked up situation, seeing as how the mom in that family probably wasn't a supporter of what was apparently going on. But then, who knew? Maybe she was doing junior, while her husband was teaching the bird to talk dirty.

The point is that lusting after my niece didn't seem nearly as kinky as it had when I left the house that morning.

Penny, after giving me the hug, which was accompanied by a kiss on the cheek, both completely normal behaviors for a girl of her status, began telling me how her day had gone. She had two messages for me, the result of phone calls she had taken, and a request that I establish a calendar that had my schedule on it so she could make appointments for me without worrying that I already had something planned. I agreed that was a good idea and set about doing that while she prepared meatloaf, mashed potatoes and lima beans for supper.

The thing about Penny was that, while she'd been to the school of hard knocks, and had matured significantly faster than most girls her age, she was fully an adolescent when it came to her emotions. Watching her mood change was a delight sometimes.

On this night it happened right in the middle of supper. Dilly had been placed in his swing beside us, and had been happily going to and fro, when he decided he was hungry. Penny checked his diaper, just in case, and then pulled her T shirt up and over her head, completely at ease baring her upper torso to me.

Even before the little boy got a good sucking motion going, and I could hear his satisfied gulps, a smoky look came into her eyes as she stared across the table at me.

"I'm leaking already," she said.

She was holding Dilly in such a way as to leave the other breast bare, and I saw it was slowly dripping white drops down into her lap.

I got stiff.

She continued to eat with one hand, just looking at me, but I felt like I was a mouse, under the gaze of a cat who was just waiting for the right time to pounce.

"You know this ... um ... relationship we have," I said. I paused, trying to figure out how to say the next thing that was in my head.

"I like the relationship we have," she said, her voice throaty. "I never..." she stopped, and like magic, her upper chest and face turned flaming red.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She seemed to stiffen. I think she was gathering her courage to speak as an adult, rather than the girl she sometimes felt she still was.

"With David ... he never made me feel like you do. I never..." She looked away hastily, but said the word: "came."

"David was worthless," I said. I knew some people might think that was a bit harsh, but truth is truth, and David hadn't shown any reason to let him into my compound, should the balloon go up and people start "arguing" over available resources.

"He wasn't worthless," she said. "He gave me Dilly."

I decided not to tell her that it should have been me who gave her Dilly. I know that sounds harsh too, but it's how I felt at that moment. Any time I thought of David, I thought I should have taken his place in life. I know it's fucked up, but it's just how I felt.

"It's nice to know he had one redeeming quality," I said, trying to be nice.

"But he never made me feel good, like you do."

"It's really just biological," I said. "Remember when you were masturbating, that first night in bed with me?"

Her blush had faded, but popped right back up. I took that as a "Yes."

"Well, just like you can make that happen, I can make that happen. David could have made it happen if he'd have had a brain in his head."

She kept eating. Dilly did not. He started playing with her nipple, sucking it in, and spitting it out, like it was some toy.

"Don't you start that!" she scolded him. "You eat. You're a growing boy and you need to eat."

"I think 'boy' is the operative word at this particular point," I said, making a joke. "We all like to play with pretty nipples."

"You think mine are pretty?" she asked, looking down at both, which were currently visible while Dilly waved his arms and cooed, saying something unintelligible in baby talk. "I think they look horrible."

"Why?" I asked.

"They're so big and purple and clunky," she sighed.

"Which are all reasons boys love them. They're so wonderfully suckable."

I realized I was fully erect in my pants. She blushed yet again, though not as intensely as before.

"Which brings me back to our relationship," I said. "We need to be really careful."

"Why?" she asked. "Nobody's going to know."

"That's not what I mean," I said. "If we keep playing around here, we're going to want to do ... more."

"I already want to do more, but I know you'll be an old fuddy duddy about it."

It took me completely by surprise. What did she mean by "more?" It could mean so many things. Of course my mind, aided by the erection in my pants, took me straight to the home run scenario, but another part of my brain reminded me that seventeen-year-old girls don't want forty-year-old guys lunging around on top of them, pinning them to the bed.

Of course then I remembered that fucking bird, hopping around on his perch, saying "Do me deeper, Daddy!"

"We can't do that!" I blurted.

"See what I mean?" asked the girl across the table from me.



-------

Chapter 4


As things turned out, I began to have tiny suspicions that ... maybe ... David wasn't as complete the asshole predator as I had assigned him to be.

Like, for instance, that night when, as usual, Penny brought me Dilly and asked me to entertain him while she went to take her shower.

This time, when she came back, drying her hair with a towel in both hands, she left the robe in my closet.

"What are you doing?" I asked, thinking I was ready to do battle with this strong-willed woman.

"Drying my hair," she said. "What does it look like?"

"Naked?"

"I just got out of the shower," she said, carelessly. "I usually take showers naked. Call me weird."

"Most people get dressed after they take a shower," I pointed out.

"I'm not most people, I guess," she blithely said. She leaned over to look in her baby's face. "Bedtime for you, mister."

She picked him up. As soon as his mouth got near her breast he eagerly sought out the nipple. I watched as her milk let down and that smoky look came into her eyes.

"Are you going to move him back into your room?" I asked, softly.

Those dark green eyes examined me. I found I was holding my breath, for some reason.

"Are you saying you don't want me in your bed?"

I didn't like the sound of that. The tone of her voice, I mean.

"You know what I'm saying," I said. "I'm saying that things are speeding along, and if they go off the tracks it could get very ugly. I brought you here to help you, not ruin your life."

"You have helped me," she said. "And I'm very thankful. I know just how lucky we are."

"We?"

"Dilly and me," she said.

I blinked. I'd automatically thought she was talking about me, instead of Dilly. I felt pretty lucky too.

"Of course," I said.

"And I think you're so cute when you try to do the right thing," she went on. "Sometimes you're so adorable I just want to eat you up!"

She said that as if she were talking to Dilly, but she was looking right at me. It was very sexy, somehow, and my eyes dropped to the tight folds of her pussy lips.

Except they weren't so tight, tonight. When she had first come in, they were pale and pressed tightly together, almost like a barrier, rather than a gate. But now they were more full looking ... more relaxed. And the moisture that had gathered between them was clearly evident. When Dilly sucked her nipples, it really turned her on. She spoke again.

"I don't know why you're so worried. I know how you affect me, and I know how I affect you too. You get hard for me. You're probably hard right now. And that makes me feel good. It just made me feel slutty when David was like that, panting after me, telling me to get naked, talking about all the things he wanted me to do to him. But with you it's different. It feels sweet, and warm and happy. It makes me horny."

"What Dilly is doing is what makes you horny," I said.

"Yes," she admitted, this time without all the remorse. "But now I think about you, instead of him."

"Sweetie, think about this. You're seventeen. You're going to get your diploma, take some college courses on line. In a few years you'll be ready to go out into the big wide world, where there will be all manner of men your age who will just wilt when you smile at them. You have your whole life ahead of you. The last thing you need to do is get sidetracked by some infatuation left over from your childhood with me."

"How come you don't have a girlfriend?" she asked. She appeared to have completely ignored my impassioned plea.

"Girlfriends are time consuming and expensive," I said. "And a lot of them break your heart."

"So you just jerk off instead," she said.

My goodness, but my niece was acting all grown up, now.

"Okay, yes. That kind of date is easy to make, and nobody cares if, when the time comes, I feel like doing something else instead. It's cheap, convenient and safe." I smiled.

"So you think I'm going to break your heart?"

"No. I think it might be the other way around," I said.

"Oh! So you're going to break my heart," she said. "Get me all excited and then leave me in the lurch? Call me a slut and complain that I'm losing my touch? Knock me up and join the Air Force?" She grimaced. "Been there. Done that. Got that T shirt. I'm sorry Uncle Bob, but you don't hold a candle to David in that area. In fact, after living with you for a while, I'm pretty sure you couldn't break my heart if you actually tried to."

"No, I'm not going to break your heart," I said patiently. "But what happens when you get tired of an old man huffing and puffing after you, and you want to go dancing and have some fun, and party with people your own age? What happens if you meet a nice young man, but feel like you'd hurt my feelings if you went out with him? What happens if I do knock you up?"

She didn't answer me. Instead she just looked at me. I thought maybe I'd finally given her something to think about, and now she'd understand that this was a serious game we were playing. Maybe half a minute later she turned and sauntered to the stairs, walking slowly while her son fed from her body. Her naked hips rolled, her buttocks lifting and falling. It didn't do my penis any good. Suddenly what was on TV seemed lifeless and uninteresting.

I punched the power button to turn things off, and stood up. I'd go take my own shower. Then I'd go to bed. If she wanted me to help her with the breast Dilly didn't finish ... fine. But that was all I was going to do. She'd get used to the idea sooner or later.

I guess I was thinking of it as a phase ... that she'd grow out of eventually.

-------

It wasn't a phase. When I got out of the shower and went to my room, she was lying on the bed, waiting for me. She was masturbating slowly, teasing her clit with one fingertip, going in circles around the stiff little organ.

"I really liked what you did this morning," she said.

I wanted to groan. Why were teenagers so bull-headed?

When I walked by the foot of the bed I wanted to groan again. Her pussy lips were flowered open, full and swollen. They looked delicious. I wondered if Carly Tennon's parrot knew how to say "Oooo, suck my pussy, Daddy! Make me cum good!" And that was an insidious thought, because it wasn't so much worse for an uncle to go down on his niece than it was to fingerfuck her ... right?

David had never done that for her, of course. Stupid little prick. I got over her and kissed her for a good minute or two. Then I sucked on both nipples until there was no milk any more. I licked my way down, over her belly, getting between her legs. When she finally figured out what I was going to do she covered her pussy lips with one hand.

"You can't!" she moaned, no doubt thinking of how soaked she was down there from what I'd done to her already. Of course she had no idea that being soaked was exactly why I wanted to taste her. I moved her hand - she was no match for my strength - and decided I wouldn't come up for air until she'd had three orgasms.

-------

I didn't count on a number of things. I didn't count that she'd have nonstop orgasms from having her clitty sucked, which meant she had three before I even got comfortable. Well, maybe not quite that fast, but it sure seemed like it. I was having so much fun listening to her gasping babble and feeling her body tense up and fling itself this way and that, that I just kept going. I was hard as a rock, but I just ground that against the bed and that felt good too.

I didn't count on how much energy it took to please an enthusiastic woman like that either. In the past, with the few women I'd taken a chance with, I'd given them an orgasm or two, and then we'd moved on to the main event and pretty soon both of us were ready to lie there, and relax. So when she flopped one last time and went limp, gasping "No more, please, I can't take any more," I crawled up to flop down beside her, not caring that my cock was still as hard as a stick of wood. I felt her hand flop over and make contact with it. She grasped it, gave it a squeeze, and then let go.

It felt so good to lie there, wondering if it would ever be either wise or controllable to ask her to jerk me off, and I didn't count on her recuperative powers, which were based in a seventeen-year-old body, rather than the four decade type I inhabited.

You'd think that, having taken a course of action I thought was appropriate, and based on my own life experience, that I might expect her to do the same thing.

But I didn't.

So I wasn't prepared for her to do what she thought it was time to do. Which was leap up, straddle me, grip and bring the tip of my penis to press between the puffy lips I had just been lovingly sucking ... and impale herself to my balls.

"Ohhhhhh," she groaned as she was filled. If I'd have thought about it, I'd have realized this was probably the first time she'd been filled like this in eight or nine months. But since she sounded quite happy, I didn't think about it. And then, I didn't have time to think about anything, because suddenly, I knew what it must feel like to have a milking machine fastened to your penis, while it was trying to suck every drop of moisture from your body.

It turned out that David, besides being an all around jerk, was a lazy all around jerk. He had taught his girlfriend how to please him, meaning he didn't have to do much, in terms of either working at getting off, or giving her anything in return. As a result, she had developed an amazing snapping pussy that I'm not sure she was actually aware she had. She just knew what to do to make the penis in her squirt. And, from the amount of work she was doing, she apparently thought she was supposed to make it squirt as fast as possible.

Her expertise resulted in two things. First, all previous impressions I had of her as an inexperienced, innocent girl vanished like smoke in the wind. Second, when I realized what she was doing - the only thing she knew how to do - I also realized she'd probably never been made love to.

Not counting what I'd just done for her.

So I rolled her over, got settled in her saddle, and showed her what she'd been missing.

-------

She'd have killed me if Dilly hadn't soiled his diaper and started crying. She was already hoarse from gasping "More!" interspersed with "Uncle Bob I love you so much!" She'd had an orgasm within minutes, which was obviously a complete surprise to her. I'm fairly certain she never had one with a penis in her prior to that. But it was the third and fourth orgasms that really got her going ... it had finally sunk in that they weren't going to stop until I stopped. That was when the chanting started.

Her face was red and her hair was wet when Dilly started squalling. I was actually glad, because I was really close to cumming, and I didn't want to do that. Not bareback. Besides, my back was starting to hurt. I got a feeling I wasn't in nearly as good a shape as I thought I was.

"Nooo! What are you doing?" she whined as I pushed up to my knees and my prick came out of her with a slurping, wet sound.

"Oh. Crap!" she groaned as Dilly cried out again. She sat up with obvious effort. She'd been working hard, even though she was flat on her back, using pelvic muscles and legs and arms, as well as those amazing internal milkmaid muscles. But her languor didn't last long. She whisked the baby up and onto the changing table, bubbly with him, telling him how happy Mamma was, and how lucky Mamma was, and how much she loved him. He kicked and burbled, his hands waving in the air.

She looked over to see me masturbating slowly. I didn't have anything to catch my spend in, but it felt good to keep going, so I did, slowly enough that I didn't actually cum.

"Don't do that," she said.

"Hey, I get a turn too," I complained.

"I know," she said. "I'll take care of you."

"Mmmmm," I said, thinking about her hand, sliding up and down my prod. "I'll get a washcloth."

"You won't need a washcloth," she said, fastening the new diaper. She laid him back in the crib.

I was thinking of her mouth, now, sliding up and down my cock.

And when she came back to bed, that's exactly what she did. She put her left hand on my stomach, and her right on my prick. She jacked it slowly and then leaned down to suck on the head. Shit-for-brains he might have been, but David had taught her well, and she had me on a razor's edge within minutes. I told her I was almost there. I got ready to say "Thank you!"

But David hadn't wanted to waste it in her mouth. So when she sensed the time was right, she got up, impaled herself again, and used different muscles to suck the sperm out of my balls.

"Oh Baby!" I gasped, as I realized what she was doing.

She just leaned over to kiss me while I pumped her belly full of my love.

-------

We fell asleep in a tangle. I know I woke up when Dilly fussed during the night and she got up, but when she came back to bed and stretched out up against me, I went back into a deeply satisfying sleep.

When I woke up again, though, and her limp hand was lying on my pubic hair, just above my now flaccid penis, reality reared its ugly head. Everything I had warned her about had happened. It hadn't happened months from now, like I had been thinking. She'd been living with me for barely a month and already we were acting married. Well, acting something anyhow, and I don't mean benign uncle, fond of innocent, loving niece.

A finger moved, tickling my pubic hair. I turned my head to find dark green eyes waiting for me.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," she said, her voice sounding about twenty-five instead of seventeen.

"You're crazy," I said.

"I'm happy, " she said, completely seriously. "I'm happier than I've ever been in my whole life."

"Yeah, well you're young," I said. "You have lots of time in your life to find much bigger and better things."

I saw her face close down. It almost returned to that disappointed, tired, sad, hopeless face she'd had when I found her a month back. But I didn't have time to examine her face, because she rolled away from me and got up. She got Dilly out of the crib and went to her room to get dressed.

-------

I had an install that day. It was a big house, and it took the whole day. I told Penny it might be late, since I planned on staying until it was complete, no matter what. I told her I'd grab something to eat on the way home, so she didn't have to cook unless she just wanted to. She said that was fine.

I actually got done sooner than I expected, so I was only an hour later than usual when I finally got home. Penny was on the computer, something to do with a course she'd signed up for online. She waved at me, but didn't get up.

I didn't even know I was in trouble until I found that Dilly's crib had been moved back into her room. Then, later, when she finished with the computer, she kissed me on the cheek and went to her room, where she lay in bed reading.

She did not come visit me during the night.

In fact, she just stopped coming into my room, and did not ask for help with her breasts again. Further, if she went to take a shower, she acted like normal people, drying off in the bathroom and getting dressed, either there, or in her room. Dilly was crawling all over the place by now, and pulling himself up on the edge of the couch, or my leg or whatever. It would be very soon that he began taking shaky steps, and standing, with his arms out, astounded that the world was shaking back and forth like it appeared to be to his little eyes.

At first I was relieved. I was conflicted too. Don't get me wrong. I'm a man, and she was everything any man could want. But I was the wrong man, and I knew it. So I was relieved. At least at first.

But it wasn't long before I realized that the joy had gone out of her. Oh she still talked, and joked and laughed. Someone who didn't know her would think she was normal as pie. In fact, she acted her age, for once.

But you see ... I did know her. I knew what she'd been like, when she first came to my house, a broken young woman, scared of life and afraid her world might collapse even further any second. And I'd seen her come out of that shell, with the exception of the quiet crying when she fed her baby ... that crying I'd misunderstood, thinking she was just sad about things. And I'd seen her self-confidence bloom as she did things in a real business. They weren't monumental things, but she was doing a real job, the kind of job people got paid to do. A man she liked and admired - okay, had a crush on - cared about her and wanted her to do well. She lost that tense physical stance of fear. She smiled more. In fact, now that I looked back on it, a smile had been on her face the majority of the time, once she'd lived with me for three weeks.

And she couldn't fake the kind of passion she'd made love with. She had been truly joyous and elated at learning what good sex, with someone who loved you, could be like.

She had sung to Dilly. She had gone for walks. She had made new friends in the neighborhood. Sure, they were only acquaintances, but she was reaching out to people again.

But that joy was MIA now. And I knew I was the one who was responsible for that. To be sure, she misunderstood. She thought I'd rejected her. But that wasn't it. I just knew what was best for her. And teens often resist what's good for them.

I gave her a hug one night, a long one, and I told her I loved her in her hair, which smelled so clean and good it took my breath away.

"I know," she said. "I love you too."

But it was mechanical. She said it because she knew I expected her to say it.

Her work was flawless. She started giving people information over the phone that amounted, for all intents and purposes, to a sales pitch. She scheduled appointments for me to close deals and draw up the final contracts. My customers began to mention her by name to me. One of them told me to say hi to her when I got back to the office.

Her studies went well. She was smart as a whip. If she stayed on course, she'd have her GED by the time Dilly could make it all the way across the living room from me to her, without falling down once.

But that spark that made her sexy, and interesting, and pure joy to be around ... just wasn't there any more.

If I was in the recliner, she sat on the couch. If I was on the couch, she sat in the recliner. She still cooked, and it was delicious. My business expanded enough that I got another car, so she could go places without me.

Life was great.
And I was miserable.

-------

I didn't keep track or anything, I mean about how long it took me to "come to my senses" as she called it forever after. I'm pretty sure it was more than a month, but not as much as two. Things were pretty hectic in there because when she set me up for sales appointments and inspections, she'd put four a day on the schedule. That's pushing it.

But at some point I came in late, and she was in bed (wearing shorts and a T shirt) reading. Dilly was snoring. And when I left her room and walked into mine, it just felt like I was at the end of the world, in a barren environment that had no reason to exist.

I had done the right thing. I had made the world what it was supposed to be.

And I no longer wanted to live in it.

I don't know how long I stood there, but when I revived enough to think again, I was stiff all over. I turned around and shuffled back to her room. She looked over at me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"What for?" she asked.

"Everything," I said. "I've been stupid, and I'm sorry."

She reached for the book mark lying on her stomach and closed the book on it. She lay it aside and sat up, her bare feet hanging off the bed.

"What did you do that was stupid?" she asked.

"I ruined your life," I said.

"Oh ... that," she said, somewhat carelessly. "Don't worry about it. I know you did what you thought was right. And you probably were right. It's not so bad any more."

"It shouldn't have been bad at all!" I groaned. "I made you unhappy, and I can't stand it."

"Come on, Uncle Bob," she said. "It's not that bad."

"Yes it is!" I insisted. "You were so happy ... so full of joy. And I killed it."

"That's what adults do," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe I'll understand it some day."

I wanted to cry. Not only had I killed off the joy, but now she was jaded too.

"Come on, Uncle Bob," she said again, softly. "It really isn't that bad. What you need is a nice, long soak in a hot tub of water."

She stood up and came toward me.

"You go get ready and I'll run the bathwater," she said.

"I don't want a bath," I said. I admit it was somewhat petulant. I was feeling sorry for myself, after all. I didn't look at it that way then,  but later I could see it perfectly.

"Yes you do," she said, like she was talking to a three-year-old. "Come on. Mommy's gonna make you feel all better."

And yes, when she used "Mommy" I was thinking of her relationship to Dilly.

Like a pouting little child, I let myself be pushed around. She sat me on the toilet while she started that water running. Then she left the room. I watched the water rising in the tub. It did look inviting. Suddenly she was back, and she had two ounces of my 12 year old Scotch in a glass. I could smell the ginger ale she'd cut it with, and there were maybe three ice cubes in the glass, just like I always fixed it myself. I'd never served her a drink, and, to my knowledge had never realized she watched me prepare my own.

She handed me the drink and made me take a sip. Then she unbuttoned my shirt, and made me stand up. She knelt to unbuckle my belt.

"I can do it," I finally said.

"Hush," she said.

My pants fell and she jerked my underwear down ... somewhat roughly if you ask me. Then she made me lift a leg while she slipped the pants and underwear off that foot, before reversing things. She dragged each sock off while the foot was in the air. I felt silly putting my hand on top of her head while she did this, to keep my balance, but she didn't seem to mind. Then she stood and pushed one side of the shirt off my shoulder. It was the arm I wasn't using at the moment, and when it was out of the shirt I automatically switched the drink to that hand and shrugged off the shirt.

I stepped over the tub with one foot, easing it into water that was very hot. I don't know how she did it, but by the time I stepped over the tub with the other foot, and turned to face the shower head, she was in the tub behind me, her hands on my hips, putting pressure on me to kneel into the water.

And she was naked, of course.

-------

I leaned back against her, feeling her large, soft breasts flatten against my back. Her hands slipped around my waist under my arms and rested on my stomach.

"Isn't this better?" she murmured into my ear.

"I love you," I said, helplessly.

"I know," she said. "You can be a real dope sometimes, but I know you love me. I've always known. I'm pretty sure that's why I fell so in love with you too."

"This will never work," I sighed.

"It will work just fine," she said.

Her hand slipped down to find my penis.

"I've missed you, little friend," she said.

"Little?" I tried to put some outrage into my voice, but in the end I think it just sounded like I was sad it was so little. She laughed anyway.

That laugh struck straight to my heart, because the joy was back in it.

It also struck straight to my gonads, because even though the water was hot enough that it shouldn't have happened, my cock started to firm up.

"You trying to show me he's not so little?" she whispered, teasing me.

"Yes," I said, with as much dignity as I could.

She squeezed it. "Good," she said.

-------

I don't know how long we lay there. Long enough for the water to cool. I do know I was hard as a rock when we got out. I insisted on drying her off first. I wanted to lick and kiss every square inch of her body, getting to know it again after so long without access to it. But I didn't.

Then it was her turn. When she got to my cock, she put her hands on my ass and took me deep throat. I stared, astonished as her nose dug into my nest of still wet pubes. She did it easily, as if she did it every day. She slid off and then back on again. Then she pulled back until only the head was in her mouth, and looked up at me. She let her lips caress it as they slid off and kissed the tip.

"More of that for you later," she said to my penis. "But right now Mamma wants you somewhere else."

She led me to her bedroom, her fingers interlaced with mine, and we stopped at Dilly's crib. He was sleeping peacefully, looking darling like sleeping babies look.

Then she took me to my bedroom, lay on my bed on her back, held out her arms to me and said "Please ... don't ever make me go this long without you again."

-------

Of course, by now, you've probably figured out she was just biding her time. For someone so young, she was remarkably savvy about personal feelings. Maybe that's because she had been so thoroughly taken in by David, and then found out what kind of man he was, first hand.

In any case, she knew I needed her as much as she needed me. She knew it even though I didn't. I had been in the Army ... had grown used to following orders ... observing rules. She, on the other hand, had only had time to follow her heart, and when her heart led her to me, she didn't question it.

And she really was unhappy, when it became clear I was going to be pigheaded about things. That part wasn't an act.

But she knew I'd come to my senses one day, so she just waited, like only the desperately poor learn how to wait for something good to happen.

And after that day I never again tried to convince her that us being together was a mistake, or wrong, or foolish. And that girl loved me like no woman ever loved me before then. When she committed, she gave everything she had. I gained a partner for life, and I was incredibly lucky to get her. Had David had any clue as to what he had within his grasp, maybe he'd have smartened up. I feel sorry for the poor dufus now. That's not to say I won't kick his ass if I ever see him again ... but I'll feel sorry for him while I do it.

The business flourished, and I began to get more commercial accounts. Those are a bit more complicated, and the revenue stream is richer. Eventually she became the primary sales person for our business, and I concentrated on installation, maintenance and repairs.

The sex, of course, was to die for. I'm serious. I thought she might actually kill me at first. I know at one point I offered to bring home three healthy young men, which was what I thought it might take to satisfy her. She spent three days after that bringing me to the point of orgasm and then stopping. I actually had to beat off to get some relief before she decided I'd suffered enough. That was the last time I joked around about that kind of thing. We went running together, which I also thought would kill me, but it didn't. It hadn't killed me in the Army, and it didn't kill me now. It did eventually make it so I wasn't so desperately tired when she finally said "Okay, I'm happy."

I tried condoms. We both hated them. She went on the pill for a while, until it was obvious the thirty pounds she gained was a side effect. It came off as soon as she stopped taking them. Her OBGYN was going to insert an IUD, but in preparing for the procedure, he discovered she was pregnant, and called it off.

So Dilly got a little sister, who I watched them bring into the world. She was normal in every way, which was a huge relief to me.

Everything was perfect, in that one, shining moment. Life was good.

By then, of course, we were thoroughly married, if only in spirit. Lynette, so named because of Penny's best friend in grade school, was a healthy, hearty baby girl. I thought it was hilarious that when she nursed, it also made Mommy horny. I teased her about being a closet lesbian. But it was really nice to be able to nurse her again, and get that sweet, warm flow that was the frosting on the cake if getting to suck her nipples.

Of course nothing perfect ever lasts.

One night, she went for a run while I watched the kids. A drunk driver swerved to miss a squirrel and crushed Penny against a tree. It didn't kill her, but it broke her pelvis and one result of the crushing injury was that a mass of fibroid tissue clogged her kidneys and they shut down. At least that's what the doctor told me.

She was almost nineteen at the time.

-------

Epilogue

You know that saying: "Pressure makes diamonds?"

We used to say that in the Army a lot. "Adversity builds character" is another one. My favorite, though was "It's only a movie."

Except that sometimes it isn't just a movie. And things don't just end, and life goes back to normal. And that's where I found myself. Penny was doing well, all things considered. She was off the critical list. The bones were expected to heal well and completely. That surgery had gone very well.

It was the kidneys that were the problem.

So I offered them one of mine, seeing as how we were family and all.

Except the DNA tests came back showing no hint that we were related.

"That's insane," I said to the doctor. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you and she share no common ancestors for something like hundred generations," said the doctor. "You're not her uncle."

"She's my brother's daughter!" I said, perhaps a bit loudly, considering the setting.

"Well that may be, but her father either isn't your brother, or your brother isn't her father. We ran the test twice."

-------

I hadn't talked to John for two years. Neither had Penny. When I showed up, I had no idea if they'd even let me in the house. And, to be honest, I wasn't all that concerned with whether they were happy to see me or not. I just needed some medical information to save the life of the woman I loved.

I waited to knock on the door until eight in the evening. I had watched John come home, so I knew he was there. But it was Meredith who opened the door. When she saw me she tried to close it again, but I put my foot between it and the door jamb. If she'd have opened it and slammed it a few times, I'd have jerked it back out and been done, but they never think to do that. They just push, which does nothing, and yell, which in this case, brought John running. And it was John I wanted to see anyway.

It's possible that one reason John had little use for me is that, when we were younger, I bullied him a bit. Older brothers do that. And in this case, I think it was the memory of trying more than once to beat me in a fight - and failing - that made John decide to talk instead of fight.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Penny is dying," I said. "And she's not your daughter." I probably should have said that in opposite order, but that's how it came out.

What surprised me was Meredith's scream.

At first I thought she had finally come to the realization that she was losing her daughter and had made a terrible mistake being so stupid about her behavior.

But that wasn't it at all.

Her cry of distress was at being found out to have cheated on John. She had an affair with the youth minister at their church, who was also married. And Penny (believe it or not, named after the proverbial bad penny, that keeps showing up, ) was a constant reminder to Meredith that she was the slut in the family. Which was why she was so eager for Penny to take her place as the family slut. She'd hated her own daughter all her life.

Penny's biological father was dead, but what astonished me was that, once all this came out, his brother offered Penny a kidney. They were a match, and it all went well, and now that family and Penny are quite close.

John divorced Meredith, of course. He later told me that if she'd have confessed it to him in the beginning, he'd have forgiven her. That's easy to say, ten years after the fact. But at least he's civil to Penny now.

But while all this was terrible for the families to endure, I had a shit eating grin on my face from the moment Meredith confessed.

Because I got to marry Penny.

You'd think it would have been easy, but it wasn't. Everybody and their mother insisted it was wrong for us to get married. They were scandalized that Lynette was my daughter in the first place, and the idea of us getting married just horrified almost everybody.

But the state didn't mind a bit, and neither did the preacher, once he saw the license. So we got married in a very small, intimate ceremony, with Dilly and Lynette there, and basically told everybody who was upset about it to go fuck themselves.

Well ... we didn't say it quite like that.

When I adopted Dilly, Penny decided that since his last name was already ours, he needed a new first and middle name too. So she jumped through the hoops to rename him Randal Eugene. Of course his nickname is still Dilly, but at least when he gets old enough to go to school, he won't have to live with that name officially.

They say time heals all wounds. In our case, it only took about five years and three more kids before everybody finally gave up being horrified and adjusted to the fact that, even though she still calls me Uncle Bob ... I'm not.

Personally? I think she does it just to freak people out.


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The End
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Posted:  2012-05-14
Last Modified: 2012-11-28 / 10:41:40 pm
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