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The Making of a Gigolo - Volume Two
Foreword
This is the second set of four stories in The Making of a Gigolo series boxed set. These stories continue the experiences and exploits of Bobby Dalton during his transformation from a normal teenage boy, into a man sought after by many women. The stories must be read in order from one through sixteen to make any sense, so if you have not read volume one of this boxed set (stories 1-4) then read that volume first, before reading this one. His story starts with "The Making of a Gigolo - Tilly Johnson", and there is much information in that first story and succeeding books that will be useful to you in understanding what happens in this story. This volume contains books Five through Eight of the sixteen story series.
Thanks for reading.
Bob
************
Table of Contents
Book Five – Jill Trimble
Book Six – Christy Brown
Book Seven – Rhonda Wilson
Book Eight – Felicity Chumley
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The Making of a Gigolo, Book Five - Jill Trimble
Chapter One
1971, February
Life was interesting in the Dalton house, in large part because the eldest of Bobby Dalton's seven sisters was getting married. Since it was the first wedding in the family, the uproar was four or five times as ridiculous as it might be when, say Susie, who was his fourteen-year-old sister, got to that point. By then, there would likely have been three or four weddings in the family, which was comprised of seven girls, Bobby, and their mother.
Bobby wasn't involved in the wedding plans, except that he'd be walking Mary down the aisle, since she had no father to do that. She insisted on that. He was much more involved with what would take place after the ceremony ... on the honeymoon. Mary was using her brother to practice on, so that her wedding night would be glorious, instead of frightening, or uncomfortable.
Mary was still a virgin, technically. She'd practiced everything else with Bobby, but actual intercourse, she had not engaged in. She'd gotten rid of her troublesome hymen by use of Bobby's thick finger, but that was all.
With all the uproar, while all the women in the family were fully occupied with wedding plans, Bobby made sure he spent as much time away from the farm as he could, while still getting his chores done. Mamma had finally decided, a few months past that, if she took a part time job in town, she could make as much money renting the tillable land as they could if they farmed it themselves. Glen Beesum, at the feed mill, had been looking for a bookkeeper but couldn't find one, because it was a part time job. She had taken that job. It suited everybody, because now she had time to plan the wedding and Bobby was free to expand his handyman business ... and the perks that went with it.
Bobby had, to this point in time, done work for a dozen people in town, among them four particular women. That work, unlikely as it may seem, turned out to include making all four of them pregnant.
The first, Tilly Johnson, was raising his three year old son, David. Bobby was a frequent visitor to the Johnson house, where he interacted with David while Tilly and Jake spent time alone in the bedroom. It was babysitting, of a sort, but it was intended for him to be able to bond with his son. Jake would always play the role of David’s father, but they still wanted the man who had improved their lives to be able to spend time with the baby he gave them.
Such was the case on June the ninth, which was David’s birthday. He was only three, so the celebration had been simple. Tilly and Jake left David with Bobby, so he could spend some one on one time with him, while they went and spent some one on one time with each other.
Eventually, Tilly padded out of the bedroom, dressed only in a loosely tied and thin robe, and took her son from Bobby's lap, where they had been playing patty-cake. The little boy's hand grabbed at her breast.
"No you don't, buster," she laughed. "I weaned you ages ago. You men are all alike!"
"We can't help it, when a beautiful woman is around," said Bobby, feeling his penis react to the fact that he could see one nipple through the gap in her robe. He hadn't had sex with Tilly in two years. Her rule had always been that Bobby could only provide for her what Jake could not. Since they had found out that Jake could maintain an erection, her legs had been closed to Bobby. That didn’t mean she was modest around him. He had spent literally hours with her in bed, and that kind of closeness doesn’t lend itself to false modesty, even if they were no longer lovers.
Jake could not, however, get her pregnant.
"Bobby?" said Tilly, looking down at him.
"Yes?" he responded.
"Jake and I want another baby."
"Is that so?" asked Bobby, his prick stiffening even more.
"You want to help us again?" she asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said.
"I'm not going to act like a harlot, like last time," she said. Bobby noticed that her exposed nipple had erected. "I'm only going to let you make love to me when I'm fertile."
"I can live with that," he said.
"Be right back," she said. "I need to go give David to Jake."
When she came back, she stood in front of Bobby again. "I'm fertile right now, Bobby."
He took her right there on the couch.
She got up, holding his sperm in her with her fingers clamping her pussy lips closed.
"I said I wasn’t going to act like a harlot," she said, standing in front of him, naked. "That doesn’t mean I want to be treated like some High School girl, sneaking sex on her parents’ couch."
She took him to the spare bedroom, where they had conceived David, and had him make love to her in what she called "a more appropriate fashion."
She had him visit every day, the rest of the week. Lying there, full of his sperm, she stroked his face one last time.
"If it didn't work this month, I'll call you next month," she said.
"Okay," he smiled.
************
Two days later, Bobby's prick was sliding in and out of a different woman, whose belly was already swollen with his baby, making it a little difficult to treat her as she had become accustomed to being treated by him.
"I'm getting fat!" moaned Prudence.
"You're supposed to," he said, tugging at her swollen nipples.
"If I get any fatter, we won't be able to do this," she moaned.
"Want to learn a new way?" he asked.
"What new way?" she asked.
"You get on top," he said.
"Women don't get on top!" she snorted.
"Yes ... they do," said Bobby, who knew very well that women got on top.
Once she got over the feeling of embarrassment of sitting up naked, Prudence found that she loved being on top. Her breasts had filled out already, and were embarrassingly big, to her mind.
"The 4th of July dance is coming up," she said, riding him hard.
"I know," he said, watching her breasts jiggle and wobble.
"I've never gone to any of the dances, since Harry died," she said. "I want to go to this one. Will you dance with me, if I do?"
"Yes, I will," he said.
"Everybody in town is gossiping about my belly," she moaned. "If you dance with me, they'll gossip about you too."
"I don't care," he said. "I don't mind if you tell them I did it."
"You're joking!" she gasped, grinding her clit on his pubic bone.
He stroked her belly, now five months along.
"I'm proud of my baby," he said.
"We'll see," she said. "I don't want to go, if nobody dances with me, though."
"I'll make it look like a charity dance," he said. "Will that do?"
She laughed out loud. "Yes, that will do nicely."
************
The 4th of July picnic and dance was, as usual, a raucous affair. Because the fourth was on a Sunday that year, the festivities were scheduled for the third, but nobody cared. The kids all brought firecrackers, and other fireworks, but were restricted to setting them off only in one corner of the town square. The picnic tables were set up at the other end of the square, and the bandstand, a huge gazebo, was in the middle. Park benches and tables with folding chairs, scattered all around the square, gave people places to sit and talk.
As usual, the picnic area evolved into two basic groups. Mirriam Dalton, and the dozen or so other women who had ended up in the arms of Joe, a hobo kind of man who hung around town during the Korean War, formed one. They had been traditionally ostracized by the more virtuous women in town, who loved to gossip about them. All the children played together, but the womenfolk stayed apart.
That tradition, however, was being stretched a little. Fred Brogan was engaged to be married to one of the "war babies" as Joe's progeny were called, in satirical whispers. Jenny Brogan, his mother, had fought the idea, until she actually met and got to know Mary Dalton who she found, to her surprise, was a delightful girl. In the process of wedding planning, she had gotten to know Mirriam Dalton too, and had been even more pleasantly surprised to find she liked the woman she had gossiped about so often with her friends.
Others gravitated toward the table that the Dalton's inhabited that night, too. Tilly Johnson, pushing Jake in his wheel chair, their son on his lap, appeared to 'stroll by' that table and stayed there, with Fred, Mary and Mirriam. Three year old David toddled around, making friends, among them Mirriam's other daughters, who also scampered around shooting off firecrackers, or gathered in groups of their friends. Some of those groups - the older ones - included boys.
Martha and Arthur Thompson wandered by and stopped. They had been making the rounds, so that didn't seem odd, other than the fact that they hadn't done that in years past. Martha's one year old, Andrew, was in her arms.
Sherry and Sam Winston also stopped by, with their one year old daughter, Jessica, but stayed only long enough to be sociable.
There was a surge of tongue-wagging when Prudence Harris got there. She was visibly pregnant, and had been a widow for as long as most people could remember. The employees at the bank had gossiped about her pregnant state, unable to hazard a guess as to who the father was. Most of them joked that it had to be an immaculate conception, since she was never known to have socialized. She had never come to the town gatherings since her husband died, either, which was one reason so many people noticed her.
This, however, was a different Prudence Harris than most people in the town square had ever seen. Her maternity dress was a riot of colors, with a rainbow spread over that swollen abdomen, and clouds where her breasts were. Her legs had trees, and grass with babies playing on it. It was obvious she felt no shame, and people whispered excitedly.
Those whispers got even more excited as she was welcomed by the women who had born "war babies". Why anyone was surprised that she’d gravitate to that group was strange. If anyone would have thought about it, they’d have realized that those women probably knew how Prudence felt, having a baby out of wedlock, and that they probably didn't care who had put that baby inside her.
Mirriam, knowing that Bobby had worked for all of these women, and suspecting he was involved in the parentage of all those babies, bit her lip and made sure she was polite to everyone. When Prudence Harris asked if she could join her, she patted the bench beside her.
"I have no idea when all the girls will show up to eat," she said. "But you're welcome to sit here. They can fend for themselves."
"You're very kind," said Prudence. "I wanted to apologize for snubbing you all these years."
"Nonsense," snorted Mirriam. "We weren't the best of friends in school, either."
"I know, but I thought badly of you. It was wrong. It only took twenty years for me to grow up. I just wanted to say I don't think badly of you now, and I'm sorry that I ever did."
"Thank you," said Mirriam, with dignity. She couldn't help glancing at Prudence's pregnant belly.
"Are you doing all right?" she asked.
"If you mean am I happy that this happened?" said Prudence, cutting through the polite chatter. "Actually, I'm very happy."
"Really!" said Mirriam, entranced.
"The father of this little thing inside me is a wonderful man," Prudence said.
"Are you going to marry him?" asked Mirriam, holding her breath.
"No," said Prudence. "If I were ten years younger, I might think about it, but it wouldn't work out. I had trouble enough with one husband. I don't think I want another." She smiled. "Raising a baby is a breeze compared to living with a husband."
"That's a very enlightened way of looking at it," said Mirriam. "This man ... the father ... he must be very special indeed ... unless, of course ..." She didn't finish.
"Unless it was an accident?" Prudence smiled. "Some accidents turn out to be the best thing that could happen to you, don't you think? There's a word for it: Serendipity."
"I'm very relieved that you feel that way," admitted Mirriam, now convinced that Bobby was the father of the baby in Prudence's womb.
"I'd like to be friends," said Prudence. "Do you think we could do that?"
"I'd love nothing more," said Mirriam, smiling.
************
The girls came, played with David, stared at Prudence, ate, and then went off to be with their friends, as Mirriam and Prudence got reacquainted. Dusk arrived and the end of the square was lit up with night-time fireworks. The town show wasn't due to start for another two hours. Experience had shown that people liked to dance first, and then sit back and be awed by the big boomers, up in the sky. There were four bands, each scheduled to play for half an hour. The first was a country band, by tradition.
Mirriam and Prudence were still talking, when a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see a man, standing between them and the bandstand. He was looking at Mirriam.
"Care to dance, Ma'am?" he asked.
Mirriam stared up at him, surprised beyond measure. No man had ever asked her to dance at a town get-together since she'd had her third daughter. That was in 1953, over fifteen years ago.
"I've plum forgotten how to dance," she blurted.
"I'm no Fred Astaire, either," said the man, smiling.
Mirriam looked at Prudence, who was grinning.
"Go on!" encouraged her new friend.
She got up, and, rather than trying to remember, just started swaying with the music. He did basically the same thing, holding her hand and swinging back from her, in an arc, and then coming forward. He twirled her a little awkwardly. The music had been going on when he invited her, and by the time they got on the dance area, only half the song was left. He walked her back to her seat, as another song started.
"How about you?" he asked, looking at Prudence. "If your husband won't mind," he said, looking at her left hand, where she still wore her wedding rings. Her pregnancy was hidden by the table.
"I'm not married," said Prudence, her voice level. "My husband died a while back."
"I’m sorry to hear that," said the man. "Do you think he’d object to a dance?"
"He would object most strenuously," said Prudence, who now thought about her husband much differently than she would have a year ago. "But he’s not here." Her hands went to her bulging belly, almost subconsciously. "Still, I’d feel silly dancing."
"Oh please," begged the man. "Just one dance?"
It was a repeat of the earlier incident, except that this time it was Prudence who looked at Mirriam, and Mirriam who grinned and said, "Go on!"
"Oh, all right," said Prudence.
"Excellent!" said the man, smiling.
She stood, and revealed her pregnant status, waiting to see what his reaction would be.
"Most excellent, indeed," he said, his smile never wavering.
************
"This is embarrassing," admitted Prudence, as they started doing the same thing he had done with Mirriam.
"It's just for fun," he said, over the music. "Who cares what it looks like, as long as we have a little fun?"
"You're not from around here, are you?" asked Prudence.
"Just moved to town," he said. "Going to teach school next year."
"Well welcome, stranger!" said Prudence, understanding why he had mistakenly thought she and Mirriam were normal women. "I have to tell you, though, you've probably ruined your reputation already by dancing with me."
"I know," he called out, grinning.
The song ended before he could say more, and he walked back with her to Mirriam.
"How do you know?" she asked him, as she sat down.
"How do I know what?" asked Mirriam.
"Not you," said Prudence. "Him."
"How does he know what?" asked Mirriam, looking confused.
"This is ... "
"Ted," said the man, smiling. "Ted Brandywine, formerly of St. Louis, Missouri, and currently a new resident of Granger, where the air smells better, and the women are prettier."
"Don't you have a silver tongue," said Mirriam.
"I told him he'd probably already ruined his reputation by dancing with us," said Prudence.
"Both of you?" Ted's face showed much more shock than his eyes did.
"He said he knew that," said Prudence, ignoring him.
"How do you know?" asked Mirriam.
"That's what I was asking him," complained Prudence.
"It's a simple thing," said Ted. "I hung around and watched everybody. I'm from the big city, and a people-watcher from way back, so I've learned a lot about how people act. I saw who was gossiping, and who they were staring daggers at while they were doing it. A number of you ladies over here seemed to be frowned at the most, so I decided to ask you all to dance."
"All of us?" asked Mirriam.
"Well, that was my original intent," said Ted. "However, after sampling two of you, I can already tell I have my hands full, so you two will do."
"You're quite bold!" said Mirriam, frowning.
"I'm just a fun-loving guy," said the man. "I was married to a woman who was more stiff and proper than Grandma McGillicuty at a nudist retreat. When she divorced me, I came west to start a new life. I decided that the interesting women were probably going to be the ones that all the stuffy, proper ones were talking about." He grinned. "I'm testing that theory right now."
"And why, exactly, did your wife divorce you?" asked Mirriam.
"Very direct," commented Ted. "I like that. I hate beating around the bush." He sat down. "I told her I wanted children, one too many times."
"How many times did you tell her that?" asked Prudence, intrigued despite herself.
"Oh, I guess three or four times a week," he said. "At least lately. It was probably more than that in years past." He smiled. "We'd been married ten years."
"You were married for ten years, and didn't have any children?!" Mirriam was clearly curious.
"She was of the opinion that babies are both loud, and messy, neither of which she tolerated in the house," he said. "I admit I badgered her a bit."
"Still, that's no grounds for divorce," said Prudence.
"Are you kidding?" he said. "When she said she wanted a divorce, I agreed so fast it made her head spin. Irreconcilable differences is what they called it. I should have gotten out years ago. I'm thirty-two. The best years of my life are gone!"
"Nonsense!" said Mirriam. "But you're a little young for the likes of us." She jumped, as she realized what she'd said, and blushed. "Not that we're interested," she added. When she realized how that sounded, she put her elbow on the table, and dropped her head into her open hand.
"You have her all flustered," said Prudence, grinning.
The band changed, and a traditional rock and roll group started playing.
"Now that kind of music I can dance to!" said Ted. "How about it?" he asked, his eyes going from Prudence, to Mirriam, who still had her head in her hand, and back again.
"I might go into labor, jiggling around like that," said Prudence, "but I'll dance with you."
************
Bobby was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree, just watching people. It was fairly dark where he was, and, while people walked by, they were usually couples, who paid him no attention.
He got up to go get a piece of watermelon and got in line. He was almost up to where Horace Grimsly, the owner of the grocery store was, smiling and handing out thick red slices, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see a woman he had seen around town, but didn't know much about. She was shorter than he was, and older too, though she still had the look of healthy youth about her. He controlled his eyes, and looked at her face.
"You're Bobby, right?" she said, her voice light and high pitched.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said.
"Oh please!" she groaned. "If another man calls me Ma'am I think I'll just curl up and die! It makes me feel so old!"
"Okay ... Miss," said Bobby, smiling.
"That's not much better," she said. "Never mind. You're the one that fixes things ... right?"
"Yes Ma...." Bobby stopped. "What should I call you?"
"Jill," she said instantly. "I'm sorry. I'm Jill Trimble."
That rang a bell in Bobby's head. He'd been in High School after her, but her picture, and that of the boy she married had still been on the wall. She was the homecoming queen from 1961. She was also the head cheerleader in that year, when the Granger Harvesters took State, to the unending surprise of just about everyone. They'd never done it again since then, which was why all the pictures of kids from that year were still up on the walls to document the school’s fleeting, but proud accomplishment in history.
Bobby had stared at that picture, as a senior. Jill - her last name was different in the picture - was, at that time, his idea of the perfect girl. Of course she'd been gone for four years, by then. She'd married the homecoming king, who had tried to go on to a career in college football, but didn't do so well, and came back home to sell insurance.
That much Bobby knew, but he'd never actually met, or talked to the woman whose picture had fascinated him so.
"I saw your picture in the trophy case at school," said Bobby.
"That thing?" She laughed. "I wish they'd get rid of that. It's embarrassing."
"I liked it," said Bobby.
"Well, thank you," she said. They were holding up the line, and reached at the same time for plates that Horace was trying to give them. They walked away together.
"Anyway," she said. "I have a washing machine that's on the blink. Can you fix a washing machine?"
"Don't know," he said, honestly. "I never tried."
"Well one of my friends ... one of my ex friends ... told me you can fix anything."
"Your ex friend?" he asked.
"I got divorced, three months ago. None of my friends will speak to me anymore." She didn't look all that sad about it.
"That's too bad," he said. "But if they won’t speak to you, how did you have a conversation with one about me?"
"Oh, that," she said. "My washer’s been broken for two weeks. I was pulling my hair out, and called her to see if her husband might know how to fix it. She said he couldn’t fix anything, and that you’d done some work for them."
"Sounds like she was friendly enough," commented Bobby.
"Mark - he was my husband - told everybody that I was running around on him. It wasn't that way at all. He's the one I caught necking with Nancy Vickers in the alley behind our house. I went out to empty the garbage, and there they were, half naked!" She sighed. "Nobody believes a woman, though, and all my former friends think I’m after their husbands, including Linda. She asked me not to call again. Men get all the respect. I hate men!"
"I'm sorry," said Bobby. "I don't know any women who repair things like a washing machine."
She looked at him and frowned. "I didn't mean you. You're just a boy."
"I just turned twenty-three," he said.
"Really?" Her eyebrows rose. "I thought Linda said you were just out of High School."
"Linda Williams?" asked Bobby. He had done some work for her the same year Tilly Johnson was getting pregnant with his baby.
"Yes, that's her," said Jill.
"That's been, like, four years ago," he said.
"Oh," she looked startled. "Well, she certainly remembered you. She sang your praises … claimed you were a wizard with tools, so I thought I'd ask you. I called a real repairman, but they want thirty dollars just to come to the house!"
"I can take a look at it if you want me to," said Bobby. "I don't charge anything unless I actually fix what's broken."
"Perfect!" chirped Jill.
She told him her address, and asked if he could come the next day.
"Tomorrow's the fourth," he said.
"Oh! I guess it is!" she said. "I'm sorry. I just have piles of clothes everywhere. Pretty soon I'm going to run out of things to wear."
Bobby took the chance, while she was delicately putting a piece of watermelon in her mouth, to glance at her body. It was the same body he had pined over in that picture. She had blond hair, up in a ponytail, just like in the picture. Jeans clung to her hips tightly, and the man's shirt she was wearing did nothing to camouflage generous breasts under it. The thought of her having to go naked was appealing. His eyes were back on her face, when she looked up from her fingers.
"I could come around in the morning," he said. "I'm not doing all that much anyway, until later. We're having a big family picnic in the afternoon."
"Oh thank you!" she moaned. "You're so sweet to do this on a holiday."
"Okay," he said. "I'll see you then."
She started away, and then stopped.
"Would you mind if I just stayed here, and talked to you?" she asked. "Nobody seems to want to have a divorced woman hanging around. It's nineteen seventy-one, for Pete's sake! You'd think people would get used to the idea that marriages don't always last."
"I don't mind," said Bobby. "Just so you know, though, that bunch of women over there," he pointed with his plastic fork. "See the woman in the blue dress, and the pregnant woman next to her with her hair in a bun?"
"Yes," said Jill, peering through the semi-darkness.
"They won't care if you're divorced or not, nor the others sitting at the tables next to them."
"But they're the war-baby mothers!" she chirped. "Everybody knows that."
"The one in the blue dress is my mother," said Bobby.
Jill blanched, and then looked down.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't believe I just said that. I know how they feel, now. I guess old habits die hard."
"They're nice women," said Bobby.
"Yes ... of course they are," said Jill. "You must think I'm terrible."
"I don't care if you're divorced either," said Bobby.
Her eyes darted to his, and narrowed.
"Don't think that just because I'm divorced that ..." She bit her lip.
"That what?" asked Bobby.
"Men seem to think that all divorced women want to do is ... have sex," she said, her face darkening.
"Surely not all men," said Bobby.
"It's only been three months!" she said. "Men keep hitting on me all the time. A lot of them are married, for Pete's sake! Two of them are married to women who used to be my friends!"
"Well, as a man, I won't defend my brothers," said Bobby, grinning. "We men have a tendency to be pigs, which I freely admit. Some of us, though, are a little better mannered than others. I wouldn’t give up on all men just yet."
"I don’t' know," she said. "I think I've had enough of men for a while."
"Well, then, I promise to be on my best behavior, tomorrow."
"I hope so," she said, uncertain now. She was feeling a little silly for having gushed out her feelings, and insecurities to this boy ... man ... that she'd just met. "Maybe I'll go introduce myself to your mother. She'll know if you're a gentleman or not."
Bobby laughed, thinking about the last time he'd told his mother that he wanted to have sex with her. He had no idea how she'd react, if this good looking woman approached her and asked about him. He decided it didn't matter. If he could fix her washer, he would. Nothing else had to happen.
************
Mary writhed against Fred, between two farm trucks that gave them a little privacy from the crowd at the square. She couldn't wait to get married. Fred's hands were now familiar with most of her body, and the thought of lying naked with him, all night long, and doing whatever she wanted to was making her crazy.
"You want to go to my parent's house?" he panted.
"No," she moaned. "You know what almost happened the last time we were alone there."
"We're going to get married in a week, honey," he whined.
"And we're going to wait until the honeymoon!" she said, much more firmly than she felt. "It's going to be so special for us, Freddy."
"I know," he moaned. "But I'm in pain here."
Mary had been rubbing her loins against his hard-on, and knew it was there. She had never touched it, other than to let her fingertips drift across it outside his clothes. She had to maintain a certain decorum. He, on the other hand, had given her several wonderful orgasms with his fingers.
"I can do something for you," she said. "I mean I'll do something for you ... to help."
"Would you, baby?" he groaned.
"I could ... touch it," she whispered.
"Oh, honey, that would be so good," he gasped.
He reached down and she heard his zipper race down. He bent over to haul his penis out, into the warm night air.
"You'll have to show me how," she whispered, not wanting him to know she was quite accomplished at getting Bobby's penis to spurt.
"Okay, okay," he husked, excitedly. "Just put your hand on it here, and move it like this."
Less than forty seconds later, strips of white were added to the dust on the rear duals of old Mr. Wilson's wheat truck, and Fred Brogan was no longer in pain.
************
After Jill left, Bobby went and watched the kids shooting off fireworks. Then he remembered his promise to dance with Prudence, and went looking for her. She was still where his mother had been, but his mother wasn't around. He walked up to Prudence.
"May I have a dance, pretty lady?"
She dimpled at him. By now, the band on the bandstand was playing the kind of music that the older crowd liked, which could be danced to slowly. He took her to the dance area, and pulled her to him, pressing the belly with his child in it to his own stomach.
"Someone else asked me to dance too," she said, obviously proud.
"Really?" Bobby responded, sliding his hand gently over her back.
"He's dancing with your mother right now," she said.
She took the lead and moved, until Bobby could see over her shoulder. His mother was, in fact, dancing with a man who looked about the same age as she did.
"He's a new teacher at the school," whispered Prudence in his ear.
"I'm glad you got to dance," he said.
"He's a nice man," said Prudence. "He asked Mirriam, and then he asked me. He danced with me even though he knows I’m not married, and pregnant! You wouldn't believe how much better I feel for it."
"How many times have I told you how beautiful you are," asked Bobby.
"I know," she moaned. "But you were usually making love to me when you said it, and some men say that just to make sure they get to make love."
"Do you think I'm that way?" he asked.
"No," she said. "That's why I'm proud to be pregnant with your baby."
"Proud?" he asked.
She looked up at him, her eyes damp.
"Yes!" she said firmly. "Constance is delighted. I feel better than I have in years. We've started a new life, unconventional though it may be, and I owe it all to you."
"That's silly," he said, swinging her around. "You're not supposed to be thankful to a man who wiggles his way into your bed and knocks you up."
"You didn't knock me up," she said. "You made me pregnant. I'm going to love this baby," she said, pressing against him. "I already love this baby."
The music ended, and he held her hand as he led her back to the table. His mother was approaching from the other direction, her hand being held by the new teacher.
"Aha!" said the man. "Competition! Curses!" He hammed it up.
"Mamma," said Bobby, his face straight. "Can I have the next dance with you?"
"This is your son?" asked the man, his mouth dropped open.
"I suggested that we might be too old for you," said Mirriam, smiling.
"I don't know about that," said Ted. "If this fine specimen is the fruit of your loins, you are a catch indeed!"
"Why that's positively scandalous!" gasped Mirriam.
Ted turned to Prudence. "And you, besides being as lovely as Mirriam here, are obviously fecund. What is a man to do, when confronted with two such desirable women?"
"Isn't he just awful?" Prudence blushed and looked at Mirriam.
"Well, at least we know what he wants," said Mirriam, her eyes narrowing.
Ted held up his hands, palms out. "Now, now, don't jump to conclusions. All men wish to be with desirable women. It is in our makeup. I can, however, control my baser urges."
"That's good," said Mirriam. I have eight children."
"Eight?" he gasped. "And you’re not married? What in the world is wrong with the men in this town?"
"Most of them don't wish to be seen with social outcasts," said Mirriam, not smiling.
"Well," said Ted, not batting an eye. "Their loss shall be my gain." He blinked. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Please forgive me. I'm just so excited to find interesting, available women in my new town that ..." He groaned and looked at Bobby. "That didn't come out very well either, did it?"
Bobby shook his head, but smiled.
"Have I done too much damage? Can I at least see you again ... to try to make up for my verbal confusion?" asked Ted.
"Which one of us?" asked Prudence.
Ted looked very uncomfortable. "I sort of like you both," he admitted. "Can't we just start out as friends?"
"Friends generally don't praise the fecundity of other friends," said Mirriam, darkly. "At least not in my experience."
"I didn't mean it like that," Ted pleaded. "It's just that I think motherhood should be celebrated, and honored."
Mirriam looked at Prudence, who shrugged and said, "He seems pretty harmless."
Mirriam looked at Ted. "Are you harmless, Mr. Brandywine?"
Ted looked away, and then back. He wasn't smiling. "I'm not foolish enough to promise something like that," he said. "I may be screwing up any chance I have of getting to know you better, but I'm not going to lie to either of you. I find you both quite attractive." He glanced at Bobby again, to see what the man would do, when something like that had been said about his mother.
"Don't look at me," said Bobby. "She's all grown up. She has a mind of her own."
Mirriam snorted. "All right, Mister Ted Brandywine, with the silver tongue, who is remarkably truthful as to his intentions. How about you get to know us better ... together?"
"You mean ... go out on dates ... together? All three of us?" asked Ted, his eyes wide.
"Exactly," said Mirriam, looking at Prudence again. Again, Prudence shrugged.
Ted smiled and bowed. "You have made me a very happy man, Madam," he said. "I can think of few things more fun than being in the presence of two lovely lasses, and trying to show them a good time."
Prudence giggled. "He has a lot of self-confidence, I'll say that for him."
They were interrupted as a group of girls approached. Bobby recognized three of his sisters, along with Constance Harris, and three other girls he'd seen, but whose names he didn't know. They were carrying slices of watermelon, and were engaged in an impromptu seed spitting contest.
"Girls!" barked Mirriam. "Behave yourselves!"
"Ohhh Mamma," groaned Suzie. "We're just having fun!"
"These," said Ted, somewhat weakly, "are your daughters?"
"Only that one, that one, and Beverly, in the back," said Mirriam, pointing. The other girls faded back, to avoid being mistaken for her daughters. "The one standing by Bev is Prudence's daughter."
Ted turned back, to stare at both women. "When, oh when, can we start getting to know each other better on these very strange, but very acceptable-to-me dates?"
Both women blushed.
Then the fireworks started, and everybody stopped to look up as bursts of green, blue, red and white filled the sky, along with thundering reports. It didn't last long - fireworks like this were expensive - but while it lasted, there were oohs and ahhs and smiles on everyone's faces.
When it was over, Ted sighed.
"What a perfect welcome to my new home," he said. "I think I'm going to like it here a lot."
"A week from next Saturday," said Mirriam suddenly.
Everyone looked at her.
"A picnic, in two weeks, on Saturday," said Mirriam, staring at Ted. "It can't be next Saturday, because of the wedding. Prudence and I will cook for the picnic. You'll be responsible for finding an appropriate place to have it, in the middle of July, and for entertaining us."
Realization came into his eyes, and he grinned. "Get your swim suits ready, ladies. Two weeks from tomorrow it is!"
"Swimsuits?" gasped Prudence. "I can't find a swim suit that will fit this!" She cupped her bulging belly.
"Shorts and a shirt will be fine," said Ted. "Anything you like, to go in the water with. Just bring a change of clothes."
"Where will we change?" asked Mirriam, who looked doubtful.
"I'll pick someplace with a changing room, or bathroom," he said. "Leave all that to me."
Mirriam turned to Prudence, her right eyebrow raised. Prudence, now that real plans were being made, was less giddy about it all. "I guess so," she said, her voice soft.
"Two weeks from tomorrow!" said Mirriam, turning to Ted. Then she moved her eyes to Bobby. "Go round up your sisters," she said. "We need to be getting home."
Chapter Two
Riding in the back of the pickup with four sisters was something Bobby had done many times. The two youngest sat up front with Mamma, who drove. Mary was going to be delivered back to the house by Fred, who had his own car. Her days of curfew were over, now that she was engaged, and the wedding was only a week away.
He found himself sitting between Bev and Flo, all three of them sitting with their backs against the cab. It just seemed natural to put his arms around them. Bev was on his right, and he squeezed the side of her breast playfully. She didn't react like he thought she would, jerking and slapping at him. Instead, she laid her hand on his thigh, and let her fingertips slowly move back and forth. It was dark when they left town, and then her hand moved to his crotch, to squeeze there.
Flo, on his other side, had leaned her head on his shoulder. Linda and Susie were sitting Indian style, in the back of the truck, their heads close as they talked above the wind and noise of the old truck.
It was one of those lazy summer nights, when all is right with the world, and you just can't help but be relaxed, and happy. Bobby's left hand was draped carelessly over Flo's left shoulder, and a bump in the road made it bounce against her breast. She turned her head up towards his face.
"Your hand just touched my boob!" she said.
"It felt like a nice boob," he said, turning his face toward her.
"My big brother is a dirty old man!" she said, smiling.
"What's the big deal?" he asked. "I'm sure a dozen guys have felt your boobs."
"They have not!" she yipped. She meant to slap him on his thigh, but missed, and her hand landed on Bev's, which just happened, at that moment to be squeezing the lump of his prick. Flo leaned forward and looked down at Bobby's lap.
"What are you doing?!" she yipped at Bev, as Bev snatched her hand away.
"Nothing!" said Bev.
Flo looked back at Bobby, who hadn't reacted at all.
"She was touching you!" she accused.
"It was just a bump in the road," said Bobby. "It moved her hand, like it moved mine."
"Don't give me that crap!" said Flo, indignantly. She was seventeen, and was well aware of the world of sexual things.
"It's no big deal," said Bobby.
"How can you say that!?" said Flo, stiffening.
Bobby was still relatively inexperienced with women. He remembered how kissing Bev had solved the problem of her catching him with Mary, and, in fact, had led to some fun. So he may be forgiven for sticking with what had worked before.
Bobby's hand moved to Flo’s shoulder and, before she could react, he had leaned over to press his lips to hers. He didn't make it a long kiss, but his lips were soft and warm, and completely unexpected on hers. It was over before she could react to it. As soon as he stopped kissing her, he let go of her shoulder.
She moved away from him, turning sideways, with her back to the side of the truck bed.
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
"You're my sister," he said. "I love you. I just wanted you to know that."
"But you kissed me!" she said.
"Was it really that big of a deal? Are you telling me you haven't kissed a boy before?"
"Well no, but they weren't my brother!"
"All I did was show you that I love you. That's all Bev was doing. Really, it's no big deal."
The rest of the ride was completed in silence. Flo didn't move back to nestle into Bobby's armpit, but Bev stayed right where she was.
************
A very nervous Bev slipped into his room, later that night. He had been expecting her.
"Is she going to say anything?" she asked.
"I don't know," said Bobby.
"I saw you kiss her."
"I didn't know what else to do," he said.
"What do we do?" she asked, shifting her feet nervously.
"Just go to bed," he said. "We'll see what happens in the morning."
"Okay," she said doubtfully.
************
Bobby was asleep, when Fred dropped Mary off. She entered the house as quietly as she could and went straight to his room, which was dark. She was in turmoil. She had jacked Fred off again in the car, right out front, and this time, she had wanted to take him in her mouth. She couldn't do that. It was only the second time she'd ever touched him there. She had also resisted letting him pet her, because she was quite sure she wouldn't be able to make herself stop him from doing everything.
"Bobby?" she whispered, and then moved to touch his shoulder.
He woke quickly, almost as if he'd been waiting for her.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.
"I need you," she moaned.
"It's late," he said.
"I know ... but I really need you!" she whined.
"Okay," he said. His prick stiffened, as he heard the rustle of her taking her clothes off.
When she climbed in bed with him, her need was obvious, in the way she writhed against him, rubbing her naked flesh against him in every way she could. He sucked at a nipple and she whined. When he slid a finger into her, she arched and bit at his shoulder.
Her hand went to his prick, and gripped it, almost painfully.
"I need this," she moaned. He sensed her definition of "need" had morphed to something other than just rubbing against it.
"I thought you were saving that for Fred," he cautioned.
"It's a whole week away," she panted. "I'm dying, Bobby. I got so horny tonight I almost let him do this."
"He's going to be your husband," said Bobby. "Just let him."
"I can't!" she gasped. "I've put him off so much I can't just change everything." She writhed against him. "Besides, I'm burning up now! Pleeeease, Bobby!"
"You can only do this one time," he said, meaning that she could only surrender her virginity once.
"I promise I won't ask you do to it again!" she panted, thinking that he meant that he'd only do this with her one time.
She was willing. She was actually begging. And Bobby was a man, after all.
He rolled to loom over her and she wiggled excitedly as, for the first time, she spread her legs for a man to have sex with her. She didn't know what to do, except open her legs for him. Unable to resist, she reached for his hanging phallus, and gripped it. Instinct told her where to direct the tip, as he lowered it to her pussy lips.
He began pushing. She was soaked, and there was plenty of lubrication so, as he slowly forced his way into her, he didn't stop, until his pubic hairs intertwined with hers. Her long groan of mixed satisfaction, at finally being filled, and discomfort, as her flesh was forced to stretch, made him as hard as he'd ever been in his life.
She was, within three strokes, completely overwhelmed by the myriad of sensations she was being bombarded with. The first was the unbelievable feeling of fullness, in her loins. She felt like she'd been starving for years, and had just eaten way too much. Added to that was his weight, as it settled on her, and for the first time, she was pressed helplessly to a bed by the inescapable pressure on her. Her clitty screamed at her, and his chest on her breasts sent electric jolts through her. When his lips crushed hers, her mind went into overload.
She would always remember this night as being something like the big wheel of fortune that came to town with the carnival every year. The big wheel spun, the pointer making a clacking sound as it flipped from peg to peg, each one signifying a different wonderful thing that could happen to the person who had given the carnie a dollar. As her virginity was surrendered, the feel of the penis in her, her clitty, her nipples, his skin against hers, and his lips were like the pegs on that wheel, with the pointer flicking against them, over and over. Her mind couldn't concentrate on just one thing, and kept flipping from one to another, to another, until all she could feel was the overwhelming ecstasy of being loved.
The wheel finally landed on orgasm, and she was a winner. This orgasm put to shame every other one she'd thought was the best that it could ever be. At one point, as she thrashed under him, a part of her overwhelmed mind separated, to float above them, looking down. It said, "Now that is an orgasm!" and then sank back into her, unwilling to be separated from the brain that was experiencing that orgasm.
Something bumped the wheel, and it clicked to the next space, which was also marked, "Orgasm". This one, though, was Bobby's. She heard it signaled in his groan, and then felt the wash of liquid heat spraying into her belly, which extended her own orgasm, or set off another one – she couldn’t tell which.
Had a genie from a bottle materialized in a puff of smoke, and said, "You have one wish," Mary's wish, at that moment, would have been, "Make this last forever."
As they panted for breath, she crushed him in her arms, unwilling to let him go, until she had no strength left in her body. When her arms flopped to the bed, the sadness she felt was because she didn't have enough energy to keep them wrapped around him.
Bobby kissed her, and whispered. "It will be even better when Fred does it to you."
"It can't," she panted. "I'll die if it's any better than that."
"You won't die."
"Thank you," she said.
"You're very welcome." She could sense him grinning, above her.
"No!" she whispered. "I mean it! I can't begin to tell you what that meant to me."
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too," she moaned.
"Well, then," he said, lifting himself onto his hands and knees, his prick slurping out of her with a squishy sound, "now that that's settled, you can go to bed."
"I don't want to move," she whined. "I don't want to leave."
"You have to. Flo caught Bev rubbing me on the way home. The last thing we need is for someone to find you in my bed in the morning."
"She caught you?"
"We were just riding home, and Bev was playing a little. Flo saw her hand in my lap."
"What did she do?" asked Mary.
"She got a little upset. I was trying to show her that it was no big deal, and I kissed her ... to show her. I don't know what I was thinking."
"You idiot!" said Mary. "I came to you. You don't go to them! You were lucky with Bev."
"I know," he said helplessly. "It just kind of happened. But you have to go to bed. She's in there, and if she gets up in the night and you're not there, she'll go looking for you."
"If you hadn't just made me the happiest woman in the world, I think I'd be really mad at you!" she said softly. "I'll talk to her in the morning."
"Do you think you should?" he asked.
"We've lived in the same room together all our lives," said Mary, getting up. "I know her better than I know any other person on earth. I'll talk to her."
"Okay," said Bobby.
"But you owe me," she said, putting her clothes back on in the dark.
"What do I owe you?" he asked.
"I know I said I'd only ask you to do this once," she whispered. "But if I have to wait a whole week to feel that again I won't be able to walk down the aisle. I'll be a basket case. You owe me this again ... maybe twice."
Bobby grinned in the dark, but made his voice sound contrite.
"All right."
She bent over to kiss him.
"I really do love you, even if you're an idiot."
"I really do love you too," said Bobby, thinking of the sperm he'd put in other women, and what it had done to them.
************
The next morning went anticlimactically, with maybe a few exceptions which only Bobby and Bev noticed. Mary talked to Flo when they woke up. Bobby wouldn't find out what she said until later, but whatever it was made Flo simply stare at him, rather than saying anything about what had happened in the truck. She picked at her food, too, but nobody else noticed.
************
It was Matilda's turn to collect eggs. Bobby was the unofficial, official supervisor of that activity. His thirteen-year-old sister was more concerned with getting chores done, so she could shoot off firecrackers, than anything else, and the gathering went quickly.
Then Bobby borrowed the truck, and went to see about Jill Trimble's washing machine.
She met him at the door in short shorts and a halter top that exposed a deep crevice between her breasts. He looked straight into her eyes.
"I don't know if I should let you in or not," she said, blinking at him.
"Why's that?" he asked.
"I did talk to some of the women in ... that other group."
"And what did they say?" he asked.
"It wasn't so much what they said," she muttered. "It was more the way they said it."
"Okay," he said, standing there, holding his tool bag.
"Some of them like you," she said.
"And that's a bad thing?" he asked.
"They like you a lot," she said.
"They said that?" he queried.
"A woman can tell when another woman is ... let’s say ... infatuated, with a man."
"Well, I guess it's up to you," he said, finally.
"I'm very vulnerable, right now," she said.
Bobby cocked his head. Her hair was up in a ponytail again. She looked young, and healthy, and very desirable.
"I'm not sure what you're trying to say," he said.
"I'm recently divorced," she said. "You're young, and handsome, and a lot of women seem to be infatuated with you."
"I can't help who I am," he said.
"I don't want to get infatuated with anybody right now," she said.
"Then don't." He grinned. "I'm just here to look at your washer."
"If only it were that easy," she said. "You're too young to understand how complicated life is for a woman like me."
"If I can fix your washer, won't that make things a little less complicated?" he asked.
She looked frustrated, for a moment. "Oh, all right!" she sighed. "Come on in. I'll show you the washer!"
She led him to a utility room that was, in fact, piled with laundry waiting to be washed. Her choice of underwear was vastly different than that of the women he was already intimately acquainted with. Theirs was all utilitarian, and plain. Hers was all feminine, lacy, and thin. She had gone to no effort to hide any of it, and it was mixed in with everything else, in piles of clothing that were obviously sorted by color.
"That's it," she said, pointing needlessly to the white machine.
Bobby tried running it through a cycle, and heard the motor working, but nothing moved inside the basket. The pump worked, though, sucking the water out that he'd let run into the tub. When it was empty, he pulled the machine out and got behind it, to remove the back. He shone a flashlight into the guts, and saw two belts, one in place, the other hanging, with two broken ends visible.
He pulled it out. The hardware store would be closed today, but he had a collection of belts in the workshop at the farm, things that had been salvaged from this or that, as things were found un-repairable. He kept lots of parts from things other people had thrown out.
"If I've got a belt this size back home, I can get you up and washing today," he said, looking up. She was leaned over, watching him, and her cleavage was almost in his face.
"That's what's wrong?" she asked, looking at the broken belt in his hand.
"Yup," he said. "A new belt will get you going."
"It's that easy?" she asked, disbelief in her voice. "How much is a new belt?"
"I'll have to put a used one on, since today's a holiday. If you want, I can get a new one later. I guess I'd have to charge you ten dollars to make it worth my time."
"Ten bucks?" she said. "That's it?"
"I can charge you fifteen, if it will make you feel better," he said, grinning.
************
When Bobby got back with a belt he thought would work, Jill was ecstatic. She watched, as he had to remove some obstructions to get the belt on, and they chatted about things in general. He was busy with the innards of the machine, and did not look at her. When the belt was in place, he tried the cycle, and Jill gave a little yip of satisfaction when the agitator started moving. It only took him another ten minutes to put the back on the machine, and move it back into place. Jill was already sorting out her first load, which was an armful of panties and bras.
"Can I ask you a question?" Bobby queried.
"Sure," she said, stuffing things into the washer.
"If you aren't interested in men being interested in you, why do you dress like that?"
She closed the lid and looked down.
"What's wrong with how I'm dressed?" she asked.
"Nothing, as far as I'm concerned," he said. "I love it. You look very good that way. It's just that it brings out the man in me."
"It's just how I dress!" she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Every woman wants to look nice."
"That's fine," said Bobby, "but when I got here, you made it quite plain that you didn't want me to act like a man, and yet, you dressed in such a way that I couldn't help it."
Jill's eyes darted to his groin. He wasn't erect, but his jeans had a lump in them anyway.
"I didn't mean to," she said, frowning.
"I didn't think so," said Bobby. "Other men might not understand that, though. I just thought I'd point that out."
"Well," she said, frowning, "You did act like a perfect gentleman."
"I try to do that a lot," he said, grinning. "I may be twenty-three, but my Mamma still thinks she has the right to spank my bottom if she thinks I need it."
That got a grin. "Well, if I see your mother, I'll inform her that you were most polite."
"Thanks," he said. "I need all the help I can get. Now, what else needs fixing while I'm here?" She threw up her hands. "Mark left all the junk here when he moved out. He took all the good stuff when I told him to get out. By the time we got to court, the Judge sided with me, but he'd already sold or given away a lot of stuff. He has to pay me alimony, but it's not enough to buy fancy stuff. Practically everything needs fixing."
They did a walk-through of the house, which was immaculate, except for the piles of clothes in the utility room. Mark had also punched or kicked holes in several walls, in his anger, and one door had been slammed so hard that the screws had been popped out of two of the hinges. He had taken the good car, and left the old junker there. She said it started sometimes, and didn't others. She had a job as a waitress, but it was close enough that she could walk to work. Bobby put two chairs and an end table in the back of his truck, to take home and re-glue legs onto. By the time he left, Jill was subdued.
"How much is all this going to cost?" she asked.
"Well, there's the fifteen dollars you already owe me ..."
"Hey! Wait a minute!" she yipped. "You said ten, before."
"I thought that wasn't enough for you," he teased.
She realized he'd been teasing, and laughed.
"It shouldn't be much," he said. "All I need is a little glue and some clamps. The screws for the door can be replaced with longer ones, and I'll glue toothpicks in the holes to make them solid again. Unless we find something really wrong, you'll get away for thirty bucks, tops."
Jill stared at him.
"I see one reason why all those women like you so much," she said. "You don't gouge them."
"Well … that wouldn't be polite, would it?" he said, smiling.
"Okay, deal!" she said, happily. "At your prices, I might even be able to afford a new belt for the washer."
"I wouldn't replace it until that one breaks," he said. "That one could last a year or two."
"See what I mean?" she said, excitedly. "You could have told me anything! But you were nice to me instead. I wish there were more men out there like you."
"Careful," he said, picking up his tool bag. "You don't want to get attracted to me." He grinned.
"Thank you," she said, handing him a ten dollar bill. "I mean that."
"You're welcome," he said. "I mean that too."
She walked him out to the truck.
"I'll have these things back in a couple of days, if I can get Mamma to let loose of the truck again," he said.
"You don't have your own car?" she asked.
"Saving up for it now," he said.
"At ten dollars a job, you'll have to save a long time," she said.
"Can't be helped," he said, smiling.
************
Bobby drove by Prudence's house, but her car was gone, so he didn't stop.
He found out why her car was gone when he got home, and saw it parked there. She and his mother were in the kitchen, shelling peas.
"I'm back," he said.
"How'd it go?" asked his mother, looking up.
"Fixed it," he said. "Got a few pieces of furniture out in the truck to mend too."
"Is that all?" she asked. Her tone of voice sounded suspicious.
"Mamma," he sighed. "I wish you'd quit worrying about me."
"Every mother worries about her child," said Prudence, smiling.
"It's just that Mrs. Trimble is divorced," said Mirriam.
Bobby grinned. "And you complain about people calling you a war-baby mother."
Mirriam looked shocked. "Where did you hear that?"
Bobby sat down. "I've known about that since I was little, Mamma," he said. "I never cared. You know that."
"I just didn't know," she said, softly. "Do the girls know about that ... name ... too?"
"Of course they do," said Bobby. "They don't care either."
"I'm so lucky to have you," moaned Mirriam. It was obvious she was talking about all of them.
"You are," said Prudence softly. Her eyes were damp.
"And it hasn't hurt you as much as you think," said Bobby. "I mean look ... you have a big date a week from next Saturday and everything."
His mother stopped looking sappy, and frowned.
"I'm not so sure that date is such a good idea," she said.
"Why not?" asked Bobby. "You deserve some attention. You both do."
Prudence blushed. Both Bobby and Mirriam noticed that her hands went to her pregnant belly. She looked distinctly uncomfortable for a few seconds, and then squared her shoulders.
"Bobby, would you please excuse us for a minute?" she asked. "I need to talk to your mother privately."
Bobby got up and went to his room, where he stretched out to take a nap. He'd have to do all the hauling for the picnic scheduled for that afternoon, and turn the crank on the ice cream freezer, when it got too hard for the girls to turn. He figured he was due a nap.
************
In the kitchen, Prudence looked nervous again.
"I like you," she said to Mirriam.
"I like you too," said Mirriam.
"We've only been friends since last night," said Prudence, "but if we're going to go on picnics together, and visit each other ... I want to be honest about it."
"You're talking about Bobby," said Mirriam.
Prudence's eyes opened wide.
"You know?"
"He's my son, Prudence. I know where he goes, and who he sees, for the most part. What I'm worried about is what you don't know."
"What I don't know?" said Prudence, weakly.
"How did you hear about him?" asked Mirriam.
"Bobby? Martha told me I should call him. Why?"
Mirriam fidgeted for fifteen seconds.
"He's worked for lots of people," she started. "Among them are Tilly Johnson, Martha, Sherry Winston ... and you."
Prudence looked confused for all of another fifteen seconds, as she reviewed the names Mirriam had spoken. Then her eyes opened wide again.
"You don't mean he ... with all of them?"
"You've been around him. You should know, as well as any, how he affects a woman. I'm his mother, for pity's sake, and he affects me the same way!"
"But they're married!" moaned Prudence.
"All with husbands who neglected them, or, bless poor Tilly's heart, had a husband who wasn't a real man."
"Still," moaned Prudence. "Even a neglectful man won't stand for something like that!"
"That's why I worry about him," said Mirriam. "Don't ask me how, or why, but at least two of those men know what happened. He's on speaking terms with both of them! It's the strangest thing I've ever seen."
"But he's worked for other women too ... right?" asked Prudence.
"Yes," said Mirriam. "And there are more of them than there are of ... these others. I just don't know what to think. I know it's none of my business, but I have to ask. Did he treat you well?"
Prudence felt her stomach do flip flops. She'd been ready to confess to Mirriam, and, in a way, hadn't had to. Now a direct question was on the table. She owed it to Mirriam, who could have snubbed her, and hadn't ... could have shunned her, but had accepted her apology, and offer of friendship.
"He's the finest man I've ever met in my life," she said softly.
"Did he offer to marry you?" asked Mirriam, dread in her voice.
"I wouldn't let him talk about it," said Prudence, feeling stronger now.
"Why not?" asked Mirriam, her voice rising.
"Would you take up ... publicly ... with a man half your age?" asked Prudence.
Mirriam frowned. "I suppose not ... but ... I don't think I'd take up with him privately either."
"I didn't intend to," said Prudence. "It was the farthest thing from my mind. But I needed him, Mirriam. I still need him ..." She stopped, and blushed furiously. "What I mean is that he made me come alive again. He changed my whole life, and Constance's too. We're both so much happier now, it's like we've awakened from a nightmare, and the sun is shining bright!"
"Constance too?" choked Mirriam.
Prudence blinked. "No! Not that!" She subsided, thinking about how happy her daughter was, and the way she was bubbly now, and outgoing. "At least I don't think so!" she said.
"You don't know?" asked Mirriam.
"I thought I did, but she's changed so much ... since she met him ... and I've changed so much ... Oh! Now I don't know what to think!"
"That's the nice thing about having a son like Bobby!" said Mirriam firmly. "Wait here."
Mirriam got up and went to Bobby's room. His door was closed, but that wasn't odd. The girls were in Bev and Linda's room, from the sounds of it, and they were, of course, making noise. She turned the knob and walked in.
The room was dim, because the shades had been pulled. Bobby was lying on top of his bed, asleep. He was in his briefs, and a fan was blowing on him. She hated to disturb him, but the question was too important. She stepped to the bed, and looked down.
He was so handsome. His chest, even in repose, was all sculpted muscle. A shock of his black hair drooped onto his forehead. She could see he needed a shave. Then her eyes fell on the briefs he was wearing. The bulge there was shaped such that she could see the outline of his shaft, and the twin bulges below that. He was all man. What was under his shorts had given babies to at least three, and possibly four women, if her suspicions were correct. She felt her own belly whirl, at the thought of being filled again. That had been her weakness with Joe. She had loved being filled ... had craved it ... even knowing that, as virile and potent as Joe obviously was, that he would probably impregnate her again. She had never been able to say "No" to him ... had never even wanted to say no to him. Joe had, for all intents and purposes, raised Bobby. And, apparently, whatever that special thing was that Joe had, had been taught to Bobby, because he seemed to have it too.
Firming her jaw, she touched his shoulder. His eyes opened, and she stared into them.
"We need to talk to you ... in the kitchen," she said softly.
"Okay," he said, sitting up. He reached for his shorts, and she watched him pull them on. Then he went to the dresser and got a T shirt, and pulled it over his head.
They said nothing to each other, as she walked him to the kitchen, where Prudence was sitting nervously. He sat down.
Mirriam took a breath. "Bobby," she said, her voice tight. "Have you ever made love to Constance?"
He stared at her, and then looked at Prudence, who was obviously looking at him with difficulty.
"No," he said. "Is that all?"
"Baby, we had to ask you," moaned Mirriam.
"Why?" he asked. "Is she pregnant too?"
"No!" yipped Prudence. Then her face twisted. "I don't know!"
"I thought you talked to her, after she saw us," he said.
"Saw you?" asked Mirriam, confused.
Bobby turned his level gaze on her. "Constance and Bev came into the house one time. We didn't expect them, or know they were there."
"Beverly saw you ..." Mirriam gasped.
"Yes," said Bobby. "I talked to her afterwards. We came home together."
"You talked to her?" whined Mirriam.
"I explained that Prudence and I were both adults," he said. "She knows about that kind of thing, Mamma. I suspect most of your daughters do."
Mirriam sat, stunned. He was right, of course. She had known about that long before she got married. She'd had Bobby when she, herself, was seventeen. She had two daughters older than that now, one of which was due to be married in less than a week. Her daughters were probably better informed than she had been, at their ages. She just hadn't thought about it.
Bobby had turned back to Prudence. "Didn't you talk to her?" he asked again.
"Yes!" she said.
"Then don't you think you should ask her if she's having sex?"
Prudence flushed. "I suppose so," she said, somewhat stiffly.
"Don't be mad at me," said "Bobby. "You asked some questions, and I answered them. Then I asked some questions, and you answered them. That's all that happened here." His voice wasn't as carefree as his words were, though.
"Stop it," said Mirriam. "Both of you. This is all my fault. You two were getting along fine until I butted in. I was being foolish." She looked at her son. "I'll try not to worry so much. Based on what Prudence said, you seem to be doing fine."
"Thank you," said Bobby. He got up to leave.
"Wait!" said Prudence. He paused. She got up and came to him. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, her hands on his shoulders.
He grinned, and looked at his mother, who was looking a little startled.
"You can go finish your nap, now," she said weakly.
Chapter Three
Bobby got up from his nap two hours later, when a gaggle of girls stampeded past his room, one of them thumping into his door. He put on the same shorts and T shirt he'd worn when his mother had awakened him, and left the room, to see what was expected of him.
There was cooking going on in the kitchen. A big pot of corn on the cob was boiling, and Prudence was frying chicken, while Mirriam got a ham ready to put in the oven.
"Smells good already," said Bobby.
"Good, you're here," said Mirriam, smiling at him. "Prudence and Constance are staying. We're going to need more chairs, and she has some at the house. I want you to run her over there and bring them back. She doesn't need to be carrying chairs in her condition."
"I told you, I'm fine!" said Prudence.
"Go on," ordered Mirriam, waving a carving fork their way. "And don't dilly dally. This all has to be ready in two hours."
************
Prudence scooted over, to sit beside Bobby in the pickup. She took his arm.
"I thought we weren't supposed to dilly dally," he said, putting his hand on her thigh.
"I'm not," she said, her voice wounded.
"That," he said, pushing his arm into the breast she was pressing against it, "is definitely dillying, and this," he slid his hand up her leg until he couldn't go any farther, and she hissed … "is definitely dallying."
"It won’t take long," she sighed, scooting down into his hand.
They got the chairs to the front door, before she couldn't wait any longer, and dragged him to the bedroom. Once she was naked, and firmly impaled on his prick, she wiggled her hips furiously.
"I love this so much," she moaned. She looked down. "Your mother says you do this with other women too."
"I don't talk about that," he said. "It isn't fair to anyone."
"Why don't I care?" she groaned, as a climax washed over her.
"Because, when I'm with you, I only think about you," he said, pulling at her nipples, to enhance her orgasm.
"We're not done until you squirt in me," she gasped, beginning to rock again.
"That's fine with me," he grinned, pulling her down to suck at what he had just pulled.
"I love this so much," she groaned.
************
The picnic went well, perhaps more so because there were people outside the family there too. Mirriam had gotten surprisingly fond of Prudence, who was almost girlishly thankful that she had a new friend. Further, the girls had all but adopted Constance, who basked in their attention. Bobby's situation was a little different. That Constance adored him was plain to all the girls. She flirted with him frequently. Mary was old enough to mask her own adoration. Bev paid a lot of attention to him, but was pretty good at making it look like she was just helping with whatever he was doing. Flo was conflicted. She really liked Constance, and the fact that Constance had a crush on Bobby did not escape her. She had been watching Bobby and Bev ever since that night in the pickup truck but, other than what she thought she saw in their eyes, they hadn't done anything weird.
The younger girls, who, for years, had treated Bobby as any girl treats her big brother, had recently fallen victim to his age and freedom, and their attitudes toward him now resulted in them seeing him as something of a father figure. They vied for his approval, and delighted in any praise he gave them. Flo had seen all of that too.
During the picnic, she watched as Bobby took off his shirt in the shade, to turn the crank on the ice cream freezer. At seventeen, she was plenty interested in boys, in general, but there were none at school that captured her particular attention. There were a few she looked at longer than the others, but they all had girlfriends. Looking at Bobby now, she compared him, for the first time, to other boys she knew. She was both amused, and disgusted to arrive at the conclusion that her brother was head and shoulders above the rest. He was just as handsome, twice as strong, and almost never made fun of her, or teased her anymore.
That kiss had been eating at her. Why had he kissed her like that? It had been a kiss like she'd expect from a boy ... not her brother. And Bev's hand … right there in his lap! Mary had told her, the next morning, that nothing was happening that Bev didn't want to happen ... that Bev was exploring, experimenting with Bobby, instead of boys from school, because she could trust him and he wouldn't do anything she didn't want him to do. "You don't need to be worried about Bobby. He would never hurt any of us or allow us to get hurt. He loves us. That's all you need to know," Mary had finished.
She'd thought about that for days. Did Bev want to know what it felt like to put her hand in a boy's lap? Of course she did. Flo wondered what that would feel like too. Had Bev kissed Bobby, like he had kissed her? What else had she "experimented" with? And how did Mary know all about it? She couldn't believe that Mary had said that, when Flo was ready, if she was ever ready, she could go to Bobby too! Flo thought about that a lot too. She'd been mildly interested in Joey Stevens for about a month. There had been something about him that made her want to touch him. He'd been friendly to her too, and she let him kiss her once. But he'd picked another girl to ask out, and Flo had backed off, disappointed, but also glad, somehow.
She hadn't said anything to either Bev or Bobby, and they had both acted like nothing had happened. Bobby had even said it was nothing. How could that be nothing? The kiss, short as it had been, had been disturbing. That certainly hadn't been "nothing". Not to her.
Bev left Bobby, at Mary's call. Mary was freaking about the wedding, and kept thinking up something else every other minute that had to be resolved instantly. Flo couldn't imagine wanting to get married, but she had already decided that, if she ever did, it was going to be very simple. She'd stand in front of the preacher and say "I do" and whoever the groom was would say "I do" and that would be it. If they had to get married in jeans, that was fine, but there was no way she was going to go completely crazy, like Mary had. She watched Bobby's muscles move, as he cranked the ice cream. On impulse, she walked over.
"Need some help?" she asked.
"Don't know if you could turn it or not," he said.
That was the kind of thing she'd been thinking about it. Any other man would have said, "You're too weak to turn this," but Bobby didn't assume that.
"Why did you kiss me?" she asked. She didn't think she needed to specify which kiss she was talking about.
"You were upset," he said softly. "I didn't want you to do anything that you'd be sorry for later."
"Why would I be sorry for anything?" she asked.
"Because you love Bev, and you love me, and you would be sad, eventually, if you made trouble for either of us."
"Are you guys doing it, or something?" she asked.
He looked at her. "Doing it?"
"You know what I mean," she said. "Christy Bellows got drunk one night on spiked punch. She said she and Charley do it sometimes." Charley was Christy's brother, though he was a year younger than Christy.
"And you believed her?" asked Bobby.
"Yes," said Flo. "She kind of described it in detail. I've heard of other kids messing around with their brother or sister."
"No, we're not ... doing it," said Bobby.
"Why did she have her hand on your cock?" asked Flo.
"When did you start talking with a gutter mouth?" he asked.
"Don't give me that crap, Bobby. Cock, penis, prick, whatever you want to call it ... she had her hand on yours."
"Why do you want to know this?" he asked, his arm steadily cranking.
"I don't know," she said. "It makes me nervous, thinking about it." She frowned. "If you're doing stuff, I mean."
"Why would you be nervous?" he asked.
"I've kissed exactly one guy," she said, folding her arms under her breasts. Flo was smaller than either Bev or Mary. She was a tomboy, and had the shape to go with it. "When you kissed me, it was better than it was with him. That's just weird."
"He didn't love you," said Bobby. "I do. It makes a difference."
"She's younger than I am," said Flo, ignoring his comment, even though it had sent a zing of emotion through her. "How come she gets to do stuff, and I don't?"
"Do you want to?"
"No, but it's not fair anyway."
"Why do you even care what Bev does?"
"I'm her big sister," said Flo. "I have to watch out for her."
"Then I think you should ask her if I've done anything that makes her nervous, or afraid, or worried, or in any way that might cause her pain."
"That's a bullshit answer," she said.
"You'd better be careful," he warned, stopping the crank. "If Mamma hears you talking like that, she'll wash your mouth out with soap."
"She would not!" said Flo, feeling suddenly like she was ten again.
"And I'd hold you down while she did it," said Bobby.
"Why won't you just tell me?" she moaned.
He stopped cranking and looked at her. "Let me ask you a question," he said. "How would you feel, if I told, say Horace, that I kissed you?"
"I'd die of embarrassment!" she wailed.
"Then why are you asking me to talk about Bev?"
"So you're not going to tell me what you two do?"
"Nope," he said. "Ask Bev. If she wants to tell you, that's fine. If not, it's between her and me."
"Are you going to kiss me again?" She blinked. Where had that come from? She hadn't intended to ask him that.
"If you want me to," he said calmly. He started cranking again.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard you say!" she whined. "Why on Earth would I want you to kiss me like that again?"
"There isn't anybody in the whole wide world that can answer that question except you," he said. He grinned.
She fumed for a minute.
"Did you like it?" she asked.
"Kissing you?"
"Yes ... did you like it?" She seemed very interested in his answer.
"I already told you ... I love you. I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't love you."
"But you're my brother!"
"I'm your half-brother," he said. "You know that."
She looked around, a horrified look on her face. "We don't talk about that stuff!"
"But you know it," he said.
"You'll always be my brother," she said stiffly.
"And I'll always love you, whether I ever kiss you like that again, or not," he said. "You want to try this now?"
He stepped away from the churn, and she moved to grasp the handle. She gave a lurch. The crank wouldn't budge. Her eyes widened. He had just been turning it ... round and round! She tried again. She got it to move half a crank, before giving up.
"Think about this, before you spout any more dirty words out of those pretty, soft lips of yours," he said.
He leaned over and started turning the crank again. She watched his muscles bunch, and felt flutters in her stomach.
"I can hold you down, while Mamma washes your mouth out with soap." He grinned.
She stalked away, trying to be mad at him. It didn't work, though. Just like always, he had treated her like an adult, instead of a little sister. True, he hadn't answered all her questions, but even that, she couldn't really argue with. She'd heard boys boasting about what they'd done with certain girls. That was one of the reasons she never did anything with any of them. They had big mouths.
************
Prudence and Mirriam sat in lawn chairs, in the shade of the elm tree and watched, as the young ones played, ran, or shot off firecrackers.
"Your children are so well behaved," said Prudence.
"You don't see them all the time," snorted Mirriam.
"Yes, but what girl just stands and talks to her big brother, like Florence was just doing? Most girls don't want to have anything to do with their brothers."
Mirriam nodded. "They didn't either, until he left school. He's grown up so much. I'm really lucky he's still living here. He does a lot of work."
"I could watch him crank ice cream all day long," sighed Prudence, watching his muscles work.
"I could too," sighed Mirriam. She blinked, and looked at Prudence, who was grinning at her. "I didn't mean it that way!" she spluttered.
"Yes you did," said Prudence, still grinning. "And don't deny it. He's gorgeous, and any woman would see it, even his mother." She giggled. "Besides, I don't feel as guilty when I know that another woman twice his age gets all googly eyed over him."
"I am not twice his age!" said Mirriam, trying to sound stiff.
"You'd feel like it after he got through with you," laughed Prudence.
"Prudence Harris!" gasped Mirriam. "I am shocked!"
Prudence saw the flush of pink under Mirriam's chin and leaned toward her, lowering her voice.
"He can go for an hour, if you let him."
"I will not listen to this!" moaned Mirriam.
"One day we did it four times in less than three hours," giggled Prudence.
Mirriam covered her face with her hands.
"Why are you doing this to meeee?" she moaned.
"Because next Saturday, we're going swimming with a nice man, who is interested in you. I think you should skinny dip, and have some fun."
Mirriam's hands came down and she snapped a look at her friend.
"I'll do no such thing!" she barked.
"You will if I get you horny enough," laughed Prudence.
"Stop talking like that! You sound like a hussy!" Mirriam's voice trembled.
"Mirriam, I went for twelve years without a man because I felt guilty for Harry's death. Then Bobby came along, and I found out that not only had I missed twelve years of joy, Harry wasn't all that good in bed after all. Your son is the best thing that ever happened to me, except for Constance. Now, I know you can't have him, because he's your son, but for pity's sake, Mirriam, if he gets you going, like he gets everybody else going, use that with somebody like Ted."
"He's interested in you," said Mirriam, staring at Bobby.
"He's interested in babies," said Prudence, talking about Ted.
"I don't want to have any more babies!" moaned Mirriam.
"That's what I thought too," said Prudence, stroking her belly. "Now, I couldn't be happier that I'm going to have another one."
************
Bobby, still shirtless, brought the ice cream canister over to the table, where his mother and lover were sitting. He was descended upon by girls, eager for a taste of the sweet treat. Prudence took up the scoop and began serving them. Bobby sat down by his mother, in the chair Prudence had been sitting in.
"Put on a shirt, before you scare the girls," said Mirriam.
"I wouldn't scare anybody," he laughed. "Well, with the possible exception of Arthur Thompson." He grinned, as his mother shot him a look. "I had to convince him to stop drinking, and I guess that involved what some people might view as threats."
Mirriam goggled. "You're the one who got him to stop?!"
"Martha deserved better than he was giving her," said Bobby simply.
Mirriam closed her eyes. "Bobby? Is Andrew my grandson?"