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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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A Haunting Love
by Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)
***
Debbie and Robby have secretly played in the mysterious
abandoned mansion next door for most of their lives.
Now, as they keep their own flowering sexuality secret,
the house begins to give up some of its secrets. Then
their world is turned upside down when a stranger
arrives, exposing even more secrets about their mother,
himself, and even them. (MF-teens, mf-pre, youths, inc,
1st, preg)
***
Chapter One
===========
The house stood dark in the moonlight, among tangled
undergrowth that had once been an expanse of shrubs,
carefully tended flower gardens and lawns. Old mossy
trees loomed around its perimeter, stretching their
bare looking arms up into the sky as if begging for
some release from terrible torture. Smaller trees had
volunteered to fill the empty space around the three-
and-a-half story structure, which had been built during
the American Civil War, over a hundred years now past.
Built in the Victorian style, the house had many gables
and a tower that reached into the sky like it was some
attempt to reach the stars. While the windows were
intact, they were dark and had been dark for more years
than most in the little town of Nettleton could
remember. Scraps of white showed through the grimy
glass, remnants of window coverings that seemed to move
in the wind, occasionally, even though the wind
couldn't reach them.
Like sightless eyes, they the windows stared out at the
world, and hid what might be inside. No paint remained
to give life or color to the exterior of the gloomy
place and what, in daylight, was a uniform gray,
appeared as a mottled collection of shadows in the weak
light of the quarter moon.
While all appeared to be lifeless in and around the old
mansion, there were a multitude of sounds about the
place; creaks and groans and popping noises as if the
tired structure was shifting its weight on the stony
ground. Tree branches rubbed against each other in the
breeze and a number of creatures provided a soft
susurration of noise as they struggled to stay alive in
their daily routines of hunting food and avoiding
predators.
Many in the town that surrounded the Nettleton Mansion
believed that its builders, after which the town was
named, still roamed the rooms and staircases of the old
place, even though they had been dead and buried for
decades.
The fact that four of the exotic old building's
residents had been murdered over its long and painful
history was responsible for the belief that it was
haunted. That, and those flutters of movement in the
dark windows, among other things.
One death was an attempt to separate Jeramiah
Nettleton, from a significant portion of his wealth, in
the form of trying to kidnap his 12 year old son. The
boy fought and was strangled during the incident. Two
men were caught, one of which had the boy's pocket
watch on him. Both were hanged from an oak branch on a
tree that still grew on the property.
Forty years later Joshua Nettleton's wife, Constance,
was found murdered in her bedroom, stabbed repeatedly
by an obviously angry and demented person. When her
almost decapitated body was discovered, she was naked,
and her clothing was neatly stacked on a sideboard
nearby. Her gardener, was accused of accosting her and,
when she tried to resist the rape, he was believed to
have killed her in a fit of anger. The gardener was
also hanged, though, in this case, from a proper
gallows in the town square.
And, in 1931, both Roger and Elizabeth Nettleton had
been murdered in their sleep. Investigation revealed
that the murderers, when they were caught with the
family silver, admitted that they had been hired to
kill the whole family by Roger's business partner, who
would have then inherited the entire mining operation.
The men confessed that they hadn't been able to find
the children in the house, and had therefore taken what
they could carry and taken off.
In fact, it was the two children, ages four and six at
the time, who had raised the hue and cry by appearing
in a servant's room in the carriage house, soaked with
blood. That resulted in the bodies being found, and the
murderers being pursued and caught.
The children couldn't talk very well at that age, and
all the questioners could get out of them was that they
had been in the tower room and had heard screams. The
fact that the only route from that room to the outside
led right by where their parents were being killed, and
the fact that the children were too young to understand
that the reason Mommy wouldn't get up was because she
was dead, just made things more mysterious.
That mystery was also solved. The robbers were caught
red handed. Technology had advanced by then, and the
criminals, to include one Chauncey Fallworthy, the
mastermind of the horrific crime, were electrocuted
instead of being hanged.
The children were removed from the sad place and
fostered until their majority, but in the decades since
the murders no Nettleton had returned to the place. It
had too many sad and painful memories.
Including the criminals, eight people associated with
the place in one way or another had died violent
deaths.
But, banks being what they are, managed the already
existing trust fund set aside to take care of taxes,
and produced the required funds each year, duly
transferred to the county. And, county governments
being what they are, the funds were received and
disbursed. County commissioners didn't care where the
tax money came from. They just wanted to spend it.
There were only a very few people who knew what had
happened to the Nettleton fortune that had resulted
from sharp investments and savvy supervision of a
mining empire.
Most of those who knew worked at the bank, but they
were not willing to part with that information lightly.
There were no heirs other than the two sad children, so
people drew their own conclusions.
The property sat and decayed. Various teenagers tried
to get in, probably on a dare, or in an attempt to
establish a makeout haven, but the wrought iron fence
that completely surrounded the property had been made
specifically to keep people out. And, after the
murders, someone had gone to great lengths to securely
board up the lower windows and doors, foiling casual
attempts to plunder or engage in other mischievousness.
Various people in town swore they'd seen mysterious
lights through the grimy windows in the house, on dark
nights, over the years and, though there was no data to
support it, most townspeople thought of the place as
haunted. It was easy for those who swore, over the
years, that they saw movement in the boarded up house,
to believe that unhappy spirits roamed the dark place.
One attempt at raising the property taxes had been
made, years ago, but had failed. The current absentee
owner, one Robert Ellsworth Nettleton, who was one of
those sad children fostered after his parents' murder,
and whom almost no one in town had ever met, fought off
that attempt. No one was beating down the doors to buy
the place. In that part of the state land... that
wasn't haunted... was plentily available.
The fact that the town had been named for the mining
baron who had originally built the house was only a dim
memory documented in dusty old papers in a box of
historical documents in the basement of the town
library.
Over the years, people began to think of "The Nettleton
Mansion" as having been named after the town... rather
than the other way around. The haunted wreck was a
thing of mild curiosity, mostly ignored as people drove
past its nearly invisible rusty iron fence, which was
now screened by a tangle of vegetation. Only the
imposing wrought iron gates were really visible from
the road any more, and beyond them a dim unpaved track
that was impassable to vehicles these days due to the
three inch saplings that were trying to fill the empty
space.
And so the old house sat and waited for something to
happen.
In some ways the house mirrored what had happened to
Nettleton, the town. When, as the ore veins were
cleaned out and the operation began to be less and less
profitable, the miners were laid off, a few at a time,
until the mines finally closed for good in the late
forties. Nettleton lost about half it's population in
the process, and property values plummeted. While that
might have made it attractive to outsiders, there was
nothing else in the town to bring them there.
The town, like the Nettleton mansion, slid slowly and
almost gracefully into a quiet decline. Once a
population equilibrium was reached, people began to
decide, on more or less a nationalistic basis, not to
let the town die completely. A cold storage company was
induced to buy one of the larger mines and turn it into
something that generated some badly needed jobs and the
wages that they provided.
During the fifties a manufacturing plant was built, to
get the tax incentives, and several other businesses
took advantage of the low cost of living in the area to
produce goods that were shipped to more lucrative
markets. Things had settled into a workable little
place where people liked to live, but which had no hope
of ever being in the lime light again.
===
Debbie Franklin lay on her bed in her bedroom, staring
at the ceiling. She was bored. She lay listening to
Petula Clark, singing her new hit song "Downtown" and
scowled that, in Nettleton, there was no "Downtown" to
go to for the excitement the singer drew reference to.
It was early summer between her junior and Senior year
in High School and she couldn't wait to be a Senior.
Due to her late birthday, she hadn't been able to take
Driver's Ed in her Junior year, like most kids did.
While the State didn't require Driver's Ed to get a
license, her mother did. The way she thought of it,
though, was that when school started again, she'd turn
sixteen and be able to get a license.
A license meant freedom to Debbie and she yearned for
freedom. Living in Nettleton was, she had decided
several years ago, punishment of some kind, imposed on
her, probably by fate, and probably as a result of the
fact that she loved to masturbate. It was 1965 and,
despite the sexual revolution under way in America,
adults loved to classify self pleasure as a nasty habit
that was probably responsible for a variety of personal
ailments and social ills.
Debbie ignored all the warnings, though. Even though
she was classified by her friends and most adults as a
"Tomboy", she loved nothing more than the exquisite
pain and thrills that her fingers frequently brought to
her as they teased the little bump between her slippery
pussy lips that she had only recently learned the
proper name of.
Debbie thought about masturbating now. But she
dismissed the idea. She preferred to be totally naked
when she got those wonderful feelings, and it was the
middle of the afternoon. While her mother, Ramona, was
at work at her job as a teller at the bank, Debbie's
twin brother Robby was around somewhere with his friend
Mike. He had a bad habit of just walking into her room
when he wanted to see her. Privacy was a word he didn't
seem to understand. And, while she wouldn't have minded
her brother finding her gyrating on the bed with her
fingers stuck up in her, she sure didn't want Mike to
see that.
Debbie sighed and got up off the bed. She wandered to
the window and looked out at the forest next door. Her
eyes were drawn to the tall round tower with it's
conical cap that topped the old Nettleton mansion next
door.
Unlike... and unknown to... most people in Nettleton,
she was intimately familiar with that old house. Having
lived next door to it their whole lives, she and Robby
had naturally explored the dark forest surrounding it.
They had never heard the stories that caused most
adults in town to avoid the place and, to them, the
forest was a magical place. The house was too, though
it was a bit daunting and dark and... scary somehow...
at first.
She thought back to some of the things that were
imprinted indelibly in her memory about the mysterious
place next door.
It was when they were about ten, and were playing in
the forest that they found "the secret". There was an
old root cellar behind the house, off to one side of
the sagging carriage house that had once held horses,
and still held an old carriage with only three wheels
and rotted leather seats. Their tentative exploration
of the overgrown cellar entrance was the result of a
fantasy that there must be gold in there, since it
looked like a mine to them.
Instead, when they had snitched a candle from home and
illuminated the dark hole, they had found that it had
walls of brick, covered by wooden shelves, which
themselves were partially covered with glass jars
containing something dark and gelatinous that they knew
had been food at one time. Their fantasy morphed into
pretending that the gold had been hidden in these jars
of muck, since no one would think to look for it there.
They only opened one, though. The stink convinced them
that this particular daydream wasn't worth pursuing.
But they had made the cellar into a hideout, where they
could evade various imagined bad men, or police seeking
trespassers, or just be in a place that was theirs
alone, and which nobody else knew about. They fixed it
up with old furniture found in the carriage house, and
pillows and blankets from home... a small hidden nest
where they could disappear into when they wanted to.
And they kept it a secret from everyone. They somehow
knew their mother would disapprove in the strongest
terms if she found out they had found a place they
could slip through the fence that surrounded the
Nettleton Manor, as they had renamed it.
But the cellar itself wasn't "the secret." It was while
they were moving things around in the root cellar that
they had discovered "the secret." Robby had been
tugging on a tall rack of shelves, trying to break off
a piece of wood that he needed to put under an old
overstuffed chair which had only three stubby legs. But
instead of the board coming loose, the whole shelf unit
had, with a creaking groan, swung outward from the
wall, exposing a dark tunnel behind it.
More candles were smuggled into the hideout and the
tunnel was explored. It was featureless, a tube of old,
crumbling brick that led nowhere for sixty feet to an
oaken door with a ring on it instead of a knob. Neither
child, at only ten years of age, had been able to
figure out how to open the door. It seemed to be stuck
fast.
But their dreams of hidden treasure were re-awakened
and, for a week, they examined the door, which was
solid as a rock. The close fitted planks of the door
were held together by thick iron straps with huge
rivets holding them to the door. Hammers and
screwdrivers, which were all the tools available to the
exploring siblings, made only dents and scratches.
Debbie was the one who solved the mystery when, in
frustration, she hit one of the thick rivets with the
hammer and the door made a grating, popping sound and
moved a quarter inch.
It took the combined weight of both kids to pull on the
ring and get the door to move more. Their excitement,
aided by a little adrenaline, caused the door to
suddenly creak open, dumping both youths on their
butts. They stared at the wooden steps beyond the
door... steps covered in a thick coating of dust...
steps that led up... into the Nettleton Mansion.
Fighting bouts of continuous sneezes brought on by dust
that hadn't been disturbed for decades, brother and
sister held hands and climbed the steps. They found
themselves in a hallway of sorts, so narrow that they
couldn't walk side by side. The expanse of wall, made
only of boards butted together and nailed from the
other side of the walls to studs, extended beyond the
range of the two candles they had.
They crept forward, afraid now for some unknown reason,
until they came to another door with a ring in it. That
one opened fairly easily when they both pushed against
it and they found themselves in a room that looked
startlingly like the root cellar. Its walls were
covered with shelves, and they recognized it as a
pantry. The back of the door had shelves on it, like
the one in the root cellar. These shelves too were
cluttered with old cans and jars. There were traces of
what was left of sacks too, but mice had feasted on
their contents over the years and all that was left was
their droppings and tatters of cloth.
The discovery of the secret tunnel and what turned out
to be a secret corridor inside the house, that gave
either visual or physical access to almost every room
in the mansion, changed the lives of the twins. Now
their private world had been expanded a thousand fold.
Over the next five years they roamed the old house as
if they owned it.
Almost everything had been left behind, but little of
worth was left. The good dishes were gone, leaving
behind mismatched bowls and plates probably used by
children and servants. The same was true of utensils.
Furniture was still there, but most looked to be in bad
shape. There were still paintings and portraits on the
walls, but they were dark with age and dust, and it was
difficult to tell what, or who they portrayed. Anything
made of, or covered with cloth had deteriorated and
faded.
Everything exposed to the air, that was.
There were chests made of cedar wood that had preserved
their contents remarkably well, and some drawers had
contained some kind of pungent smelling substance that
had also kept the rigors of time and mice at bay,
mostly. There were beautiful gowns and suits packed
away that the children gasped over. There were hats and
shoes and umbrellas made of lace.
There were shirts and things that looked like a
ballerina’s tutu, but which hung down to the floor
instead of sticking out. There were old smoking pipes,
carved into the likeness of fishermen, or a tiger's
head and some decorated with tarnished silver, or
simply plain. They found a few scattered coins, which
were immediately identified as the treasure they
forever sought.
Because the only things they found in reasonably good
condition were the clothing, they played dress up
together, Debbie gathering too-big dresses around
herself and parading back and forth while Robby put on
a top hat and tails that hung to the floor, one of the
pipes clamped in his jaw as he struck poses for his
sister. It was in this way that they kept on
discovering their bodies after their mother, for some
unexplained reason, established separate bath times for
them.
During dress up play, Debbie unashamedly stripped out
of her street clothes to don a gown while Robby watched
with interest, noting that, as time went by, her
breasts began to push out from her flat chest and then
got bigger and softer looking every year. She watched
as he skinned out of his clothes too, to don some fancy
vest that, at first, covered him like a jacket, but, as
he grew, left his growing genitals exposed.
They pretended to be lords and ladies of years gone by,
each one with their own wardrobe, and they had these
characters interact with each other, requiring frequent
changes of costume. So they saw each other naked almost
daily as they grew into puberty.
It was Debbie who developed pubic hair first... mere
wisps of golden that sprung from her skin almost
overnight, it seemed. Then there were more and suddenly
Robby could see them.
"You have something on you." he pointed out that first
day he noticed.
She looked down at her pubescent mound with it's
closely closed lips that covered up the little bud she
already knew all about by then. She'd never told her
brother about what she did in her bed at night. They
shared almost everything in the world, but that was one
thing she instinctively wanted to keep for her own
secret.
"That's my hair." she said, as if it were obvious,
which to her it was.
"When did you get hair?" asked her brother.
"I don’t' know. One day it was just there."
Robby bent over, examining his penis. "I don't have
any." he said, disgruntled.
There was some competition between them. Their father
had died in an accident when they were little and their
mother had never sought another husband. They got by on
her salary at the bank, but there was no extra money
for frills. As a result, whenever something did come
into the house, ownership was heatedly discussed and
quite often things were portioned out. If it was a food
item, like a box of candy, each got his or her portion.
If it were something else, each claimed a certain
percentage of the use of the item. It was mostly a
game, because they shared everything they had, but
establishing ownership meant that they could then
CHOOSE to share, which was somehow important to each.
For her to have hair, and him not... seemed unjust
somehow.
"Do you have those singing things too?" he asked.
Debbie paused, her pert young breasts with their soft
pink puffy nipples hanging a little as she bent to step
into a gown of forest green.
"What?" she asked.
"You know, what we heard about in health class" said
Robby. "Those singing periods where you have blood...
down there." He pointed to what was already covered.
"Menstrual periods?" she asked. "What do they have with
singing?"
"Didn't minstrals go from place to place in the old
days and sing songs and tell stories and stuff?" he
asked. "I never could figure out what that had to do
with girls bleeding, but I'm sure that's what they
said."
"Dummy!" she laughed. "I have MEN-stral periods, not
MIN-stral periods." She giggled. "I sure don't feel
like singing when they come around. I'll tell you
that!"
"It all sounds the same to me." sighed Robby, who took
no offense at being labeled a 'dummy'. "But you have
hair and you have... those thingy periods. Doesn't that
mean you can have a baby?"
"I guess so." said Debbie, unconcerned. Her mother had
simply explained that periods happened to girls as they
grew up, and it was something they had to put up with.
She understood the remorse and tears in her mother's
eyes as that was said when her mother made her put the
thick pad between her legs that soaked up all that
blood. It was AWFUL! The pad rubbed her legs and was
uncomfortable. But if she didn't use them it ruined her
panties and even the jeans she loved to wear, so she...
put up with it.
Later that night, back home, she found Robby with the
textbook they used in health class, reading avidly.
"It says here that boys grow hair later than girls.
When that happens semen will start coming out of my
penis." he said.
"Well if it's anything like my menstrual periods, don't
be anxious for that to happen." she said darkly.
"Periods are a pain."
"I don't see why. It already feels good if I rub it."
he said, looking up.
Debbie was astonished. At thirteen, she thought she was
the only teenager in the world who disregarded the
stern warnings about masturbation that seemed to come
from everywhere. It had never occurred to her that her
brother might do the same thing.
"You rub your penis?" she asked.
A guarded look came into Robby's eyes.
"You know... in the shower... when I wash it."
Debbie wasn't buying it. She knew her brother too well
and he couldn't lie to her.
"You MASTURBATE?" she whispered as loudly as she could
without drawing the attention of their mother, who was
in the house somewhere.
"SHHHHH!" Robby's eyes darted to the doorway. "I didn't
say that." he whispered.
Debbie knew she had an advantage, and she pressed it
mercilessly.
"You masturbate... don't you. You can't lie to me. I'm
going to tell mom!"
"NO!" he whispered urgently. "She'll KILL me if she
finds out. Come on Deb, it was an accident. I really
WAS just washing it and it got to feeling so good I
just kept washing it and then it got hard and if felt
so good I just didn't want to stop. Don't tell mom...
pleeeease?"
"I don't know" said Debbie in her carefully practiced
but completely fictitious voice of thoughtful worry. "I
heard it makes hair grow on your palms if you do it
more than just a few times."
She watched with glee as Robby immediately looked at
his palms. Then, with puzzlement on his face he looked
back up to see his sister holding in a laugh.
Robby was much more mercurial than his sister. He
jumped immediately to hot anger as he realized his
sister had tricked him.
"Get out of my room." he said in a low voice. "Tell mom
whatever you like."
Debbie knew when she went too far. She had done it
hundreds of times, teasing her thin-skinned brother.
She also knew how to deal with him when he got mad like
that.
"Come on you goof." she said in a jovial voice. "I was
just kidding around." He was still surly and she knew
she'd have to give him something in return. She thought
about her own secret, so carefully kept over the years.
Knowing that he did it too it didn't seem so dark any
more. She held out her palms to him. "I do it too."
Debbie knew her brother well. He was instantly
intrigued.
"You DO?" he whispered. "Really Deb?"
She blushed, but nodded, dropping her hands. "Yeah, a
couple of years now."
She saw his eyes widen and his mouth drop open.
"And I'm not insane, and I don't have warts or any of
that stuff." She folded her arms, like she'd settled
some big debate.
"How come you didn't tell me?" he asked.
"How come YOU didn't tell ME?" she shot back.
"Oh... yeah." he said. He looked thoughtful. "How...
often... do you do it?" he leaned toward her as he
whispered.
Debbie's skin had begun to go back to its normal pale
color, but she blushed again. She wasn't so sure she
wanted to admit just how often she rubbed her clitty.
"Ummm... a lot." she settled for.
He slumped a little. "Me too." he said, his voice
normal, but low. "Sometimes I take a shower when I
don't even need one... just so I can... do it."
Debbie had always thought she was the smarter twin. It
was at times like this that she felt justified.
"You don't have to be in the shower to do it." she said
patiently. "I do it in bed, after everybody's asleep."
Robby's forehead wrinkled. "Really?" he said. "I never
thought of that." He looked at his lap. "Boy, just
thinking about it makes me want to do it now."
Debbie had never really been all that interested in
boys, at least not as sexual objects. She had her
little secret, that she did in bed, and which satisfied
her, and that was fine. Other girls went on and on
about boys and kissing and all kinds of things that
sounded pretty yucky to Debbie at the tender age of
thirteen. Her way of conquering a boy was to beat him
at a footrace, or make it to home plate without being
thrown out.
"Well don't do it when I'm around." she sniffed.
They hadn't talked about it again, but after that, when
they went to the Nettleton Mansion to explore, if they
dressed up, each one was more than a little interested
in the other's body. They still had an easy unconcerned
manner about themselves as they got nude together.
It was almost a year later that Robby, while he was
putting on a formal kind of suit that had a shirt with
no collar, and which had begun to fit him a lot better
than it had in years past, said "I'm getting hair too."
Debbie, who now had a nice collection of honey gold
hair above her pouting pussy lips wanted to see, so
Robby bared his adolescent prick and she bent over to
look. Sure enough dark brown hair was beginning to
sprout all around his penis and the sack that hung
under it. That sack suddenly looked much more full than
Debbie remembered it being... larger. As she stared the
penis moved all by itself.
"I can feel you breathing on me." said Robby in a
strained voice.
"Your penis is moving!" said Debbie.
"I think it's getting hard." said Robby.
"Why?" she asked.
"I don't know. Sometimes it just does that." he
replied. "When it does... that's when I want to rub
it."
Debbie's mind set about such things had undergone not a
little transformation in the last eight months. Her
breasts were now huge, from her own perspective,
thought they were only the size of a softball, roughly.
The nipples, which had been puffy and soft had begun to
get firm, especially whenever she rubbed herself in
bed. They tingled too, and she had found that it felt
very good to rub them and squeeze them gently as she
rubbed between her legs.
"You want to masturbate NOW?" she asked, standing up.
"Why?"
"I don't know." he said. "I TOLD you it just happens
sometimes. Whenever it gets hard I know it will feel
really good to rub it."
"Could I watch while you do it?" she asked, a strange
feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"I thought you said not to do it around you." he
remembered.
"I changed my mind." she said, with the certainty that
all women have, and which is based on the fact that all
women somehow know they have the ultimate and
uncontested right to do so.
"I'd feel pretty weird doing that here." he said,
looking around the dusty bedroom they were in.
"Why?" she asked. Debbie felt completely at home in the
Nettleton mansion by now.
"What if the ghosts watched?" he asked.
They had heard some of the stories about the house by
now and had decided long ago that the Nettleton mansion
was, in fact, haunted. Things got moved around...
little things... and there were noises. But, after
fleeing several times in abject panic, they had always
crept back in.
Eventually they came to the comfortable agreement that,
while there might be ghosts in the house, they weren't
apparently unfriendly ones. They spoke to the ghosts a
few times, proclaiming loudly that they weren't there
to take anything, or destroy anything, and that the
ghosts were welcome to do whatever they wanted to do,
since it was, after all, the ghosts' house.
"Why would ghosts care if you masturbate?" asked
Debbie.
Debbie threw out "the challenge": "I'll do it if you do
it."
"The challenge" was a time honored way in which they
talked each other into doing whatever it was that one
of them was worried about doing, but which the other
one wanted to do. They had issued "the challenge" to
each other so many times in the past that the result
was almost always an immediate, if still somewhat
nervous acquiescence to the suggestion... whatever it
was. Basically, responding to "the challenge" was a
habit they'd both fallen into, and it was ingrained in
them... as normal as hunger.
"OK" Robby stuck out his jaw and his hand went to his
penis. He immediately began stroking it, and it got
even longer and harder than it had been.
"Hold on!" complained Debbie. "Give me a minute here."
She dropped the gown, just naturally getting ready to
do it like she almost always did it... naked.
Then she went to the bed, which still had a musty cover
on it. Pulling that off she scooted up onto the sagging
mattress and lay back, sideways to her brother. Her
fingers went automatically to her clit and she began
rubbing it in circles.
"OK" she said. "You can go on now."
Robby, unlike his sister, had been interested in the
opposite sex for some time now. His friends also told
tales of kisses and groping sessions and other more
involved things that he always pretended to know all
about, but actually knew very little of. He had never
actually thought of his sister like he thought of other
girls. Sure, she had breasts and all the other things
girls had, but he had seen them so often he just took
them for granted.
Until now.
Now, she was a girl, and she was naked, and she was
DOING something sexual right there in front of him.
He felt something in his balls that he hadn't felt but
once before. That one time he had been stroking his
soapy penis in the shower. Usually he just stroked, and
it felt good, and he just assumed that was all there
was to jerking off. His mother usually came along
yelling at him to stop wasting water, so his stroke
sessions never went on as long as he'd have liked them
to. And, when he started doing it in bed, at Debbie's
suggestion, he'd experienced much the same thing. He
concentrated on the feeling of his hand, and what it
was doing. He'd never thought about a girl while he was
doing it... at least not in any specific way. He hadn't
quite connected what he was doing to what his penis
COULD do... with a girl.
As a result, Robby had never actually had an orgasm.
Now, however, seeing his sister's fingers busy at the
juncture of her legs, he stared. And he suddenly
realized that where her fingers were moving in more and
more rapid circles, the lips under her fingers were
puffing up and beginning to gape open, exposing the
very area where his health teacher had told him that a
penis was designed to fit into.
The strange feeling in his balls increased until it was
almost painful. He was jerking faster now, much faster
than he'd ever done it before.
Debbie was watching, her eyes half closed, her lower
lip caught between pearly white teeth. She moaned and
the sound bore into Robby's heart like a dagger.
Then she stuck one of her fingers into that dark
opening and it disappeared up inside her. The
connection between what was in his hand, and where her
finger was, exploded into Robby's mind and the pain in
his penis became unbearable. He had an instant of panic
that he'd hurt himself when he felt a soothing rush
of... something... racing through his sensitive penis.
To his astonishment, a long stream of milky-white fluid
arced up and out of his cock. It seemed to hang in the
air for a couple of heartbeats, which he could clearly
feel in his chest, and then splatted wetly on the edge
of the bed and to the floor.
Debbie knew instinctively what that liquid was, and
seeing it shoot out of her brother's penis gave her a
feeling deep inside her that was almost as scary as
what Robby had felt just before he ejaculated. She
pulled hard on the finger deep inside her, mashing her
clit and her own orgasm crashed down on her like a ton
of bricks.
"AWWWWWWMMMMMMMMM" she groaned, curling up into a fetal
position, her finger still buried in her as the
sensations wracked her young body.
Meanwhile Robby was staring as more and more of that
fluid leapt out of his cock. It suddenly stopped, and
he felt a dull ache in his balls. It still felt good to
hold his penis and he did so tightly. When he finally
let the pressure off a big bubble of white oozed out of
the tip and hung, swinging gently as he panted, before
dropping between his feet.
It was quiet, the only sound the panting of two
teenagers. Debbie finally opened her eyes and stared at
her brother, for whom she suddenly felt feelings that
were more intense than she'd felt in the past. That was
saying something, and she knew, somehow, that
everything had changed between them. It was a good
change, though, as far as she was concerned. They had
always been close, but now they shared something they
felt with no other person on earth.
"That was awesome." she sighed.
"I squirted." he said, amazement clear in his voice.
"You sure did. It almost got on me." she said,
unfolding and stretching.
Robby watched as her naked body stretched, long and
slim on the bed. He had a sudden urge to squirt some
more, even though his balls ached and his penis felt
dead. He realized he was still holding it and let it
flop down.
"I never squirted before." he said, unnecessarily.
"You said you would some day." she pointed out.
"Yeah... I guess I just wasn't expecting it." He stood
there uncomfortably. "Is that OK?"
Debbie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the
bed. Her leg felt a wet spot and she rolled to see
she'd put it right on a glob of his spunk.
"Ewwww" she said as she wiped at it with her hand. "Do
you have to get it all over the place?"
"I'm sorry Deb." he said, his voice tragic. "I didn't
mean it... honest."
She stood up, looking at her brother's face. He was
obviously upset that she was upset.
"It's OK. You're supposed to do that. Just try not to
get it all over the place next time."
Robby's response caught her off guard. Wearing only an
unbuttoned shirt he stepped forward and hugged his
naked sister.
"Oh thanks Deb, I promise. I'm so glad you're not mad."
Debbie was shocked by the feel of his chest against her
breasts, and something poking into the area she had
just been rubbing, also warm and soft. Before she could
process that strange feeling of naked skin against her
own naked skin he backed up. The look on his face was
of pure joy. She wanted to laugh because he was so
eager to please her. She felt a rush of warmth in her
chest.
"I love you, you goof. You could never really make me
mad." she said. "Now come on, I want to be Lady
Nettleton." She retrieved the green gown that "Lady
Nettleton" always wore and stepped into it, pulling it
up to cover her nakedness. It fit her a lot better
these days too, and she smoothed it into place at her
waist, turning so that Robby could button the numerous
tiny buttons up the back.
"I love you too Deb." he sighed, as his fingers
strained to deal with the small pieces of round bone
that closed her dress.
Then he put on his formal suit and they got the
mismatched porcelain tea service out of a cupboard in
the dining room and pretended to have tea. Robby
commented on how beautiful she was, and how well the
crops were doing, and how well she was supervising the
servants. She curtsied and spoke about his bravery in
running off the latest raiders, and how handsome he
was.
Then they danced, pretending they were at a ball they
were hosting, with hundreds of people all around them.
Robby "introduced" Debbie to their imaginary guests,
calling her "his beautiful bride, Edwina" and, because
they didn't actually know the real names of the semi-
fictional Nettletons they were pretending to be, she
introduced him as "My handsome husband, Beauregard".
They had pretended to be Beauregard and Edwina many
times before this, but this time, after sharing
something so intimate, the mood was different. To the
surprise of both of them they slowed in their dancing
and were suddenly kissing each other, standing still,
their lips clinging to each other's.
Debbie's eyes were closed and, while she was imagining
herself kissing the mythical 'Beauregard', she realized
that her brother's lips tasted sweet and good.
Robby had forgotten all other women, and the feel of
his sister's lips against his was hot and electric. He
felt his penis begin to stiffen again.
He pulled back. "My penis is getting hard again!"
She looked at him sternly. "We don't have time for that
again. Come one. Mom will be wondering where we got
to."
Ten minutes later they were climbing up out of the root
cellar, dressed in their own clothes, just normal
looking teenagers, as they slipped between the trees
back to the real world.
Robby and Debbie, for whatever reason, did not take
their newfound sexual intimacy back home with them. It
was something to be shared only in the Nettleton Manor.
While each still masturbated at home, neither sought to
be with the other while they did so. Perhaps it was
that both knew, on some level, that what they had done
would be frowned on most horribly by any adult who
found out about it.
Or perhaps it was because that secret sharing of their
passion was so precious that it must be restricted to
their secret imaginary world. For whatever reason,
there was unspoken agreement between them that, if they
were to do that again - and both wanted to do that
again - that it would only take place in the faded
rooms in the forlorn house, that harbored so many other
secrets so well.
And, perhaps because that sharing was SO intense, they
both regarded it as a treat, or luxury, and as such,
did not increase the frequency with which they stole
off to explore and pretend in the house. No doubt there
was an unconscious desire to protect, for as long as it
could be protected, their secret hideaway. If they went
too often, someone would eventually notice them, or
find them, and everything would be ruined.
Over the next couple of years they grew more mature,
though, and while the house still held fascination for
them, they played dress up less often and turned to
exploration of the secrets of the house more.
They explored the secret passageways extensively,
finding places where holes had been made in the walls
so that a person in the secret passageway could peer
into the various rooms of the mansion... including the
bedrooms. Most of these peeking holes were so cunningly
constructed that they were incorporated into the whorls
of woodwork that adorned the fancy trim of the rooms.
Two were designed so that they looked natural as gaps
in the mountings of old gas light fixtures.
The bedrooms held fascination for them too. One had
obviously been a little girl's room, with dolls and
tiny dresses that were the match for the larger ones
that older women had worn. Another was littered with
wooden toys, carved horses, and an intricately made
wagon... boy's toys. Then there was the big bedroom,
with its canopied bed, the canopy hanging in tatters of
rotted cloth, but still grand in it's faded way. This
room held the chests filled with gowns and formal mens'
wear that they loved to put on.
Still others were almost bare of furnishings, and
smaller, as if people less important had slept in them.
Those rooms, they noticed, all had peek holes that
viewed primarily the beds.
And, when they felt the urge, instead of dressing up...
they dressed down, stripping off their clothes to tease
each other with their nakedness, strutting and
posturing, exposing their sexual parts and, when their
passions had been raised as high as they could stand
it... masturbating in ways that inflamed themselves and
each other.
It was inevitable, in a way, that each time they did
this, they got closer and closer to each other, until,
one time, Robby's spurts of semen splashed on his
sister's skin. He had ignored her admonition "not to
get it all over the place" simply because he didn't
know how to avoid "getting it all over the place." And
she said nothing, because she loved watching those
streams of spunk fly through the air so much she didn't
press the issue. It always dried by the time they
returned, so all she had to do was avoid stepping in it
when it was fresh.
And this time, when it splattered across her stomach as
she lay, legs spread as wide as she could get them,
hand frantically shoving a finger deep in her pussy,
she didn't complain about it because of the surprise
that it was so hot where it touched her. Her only
experience with touching it was that first time, when
she sat on a spot that had had time to cool in the air.
So, without thinking of where it came from, she'd
always thought of it as being cold. But now, where it
made a streak on her stomach and one arm, it was warm.
And somehow warm wasn't at all yucky.
Her orgasm that day was hotter than ever.
Robby, though, was horrified.
"I'm sorry Deb" he gushed, backing up as his prick
continued spurting wildly. "I didn't mean it." Robby,
being a boy, had a long history of yelping "I didn't
mean it."
His sister shushed him though, to his great relief. He
watched in amazement as she brought the hand away from
her pussy and scooped up a glob of his spunk, rubbing
it between her fingers.
"It's not so bad." she said. "It's really slippery!"
Perhaps, because she was intent on calming her brother
down, or because she was concentrating on feeling the
stripe of his spend across her stomach, she habitually
returned her spermy fingers to her clit and rubbed it
gently in the afterglow of her orgasm. She was slippery
enough already that she didn't notice the added slip as
her brother's sperm was rubbed into the top of her
pussy split.
Chapter Two
===========
The incident in which her brother's semen had splashed
on her skin had just been a few days ago. Debbie
thought about it as she stared out her window at the
roof of the tower where she had played princess, while
her brother, the knight, fought all manner of monsters
and beasts for the privilege of getting to see her rub
her naked pussy while he jerked that lovely slippery
stuff out of his prick.
She sighed again as Petula Clark sang the last chorus
of "Downtown" and the announcer promised that the new
Beatles hit would be coming up soon. She couldn't go
find Robby and ask him to go to the manor. With his
friend there that wouldn't work. They hadn't told any
of their friends about their secret place, because all
their friends would want to go and see it. Then it
wouldn't be theirs alone any more, and they wouldn't be
able to masturbate there either, since they'd never
know if some friend was going to sneak in like they
did.
She opened the window to get some air into her room,
which seemed stuffy. It was then that she heard the
noise coming from the Nettleton Manor next door.
It was a motor noise, that much she could tell, like a
truck. There was a clanking sound too, but it came and
went, while the motor noise was more or less constant.
But that was impossible. There was no way to get a car
or truck onto the property. She saw a cloud of black
smoke drift upward above the trees and begin to
dissipate in the light breeze.
Panic seized Debbie's heart. Fire! Something was on
fire over there!
She ran, screaming for Robby.
Robby and Mike were in Robby's room. Each was working
on an AMT plastic model, and each was bent over,
carefully and intently painting very small parts with
tiny brushes. Debbie's screams electrified both boys,
whose hands jerked, causing paint to smudge off onto
upholstery, in one case, and armor plating in the
other. She was yelling something about a fire and both
boys jumped up and charged out of the room only to run
head on into Debbie. She slammed into Mike, who had
been closer to the door, and both landed in a heap on
the floor while Robby screamed for information.
Debbie was crying by now and her sobs made it difficult
to understand her. They heard "Fire... Smoke... and Our
place", but couldn't make any sense of it. Then she
pointed toward the Nettleton mansion and Robby paled.
He ran outside and stopped to stare at the forest next
door. He heard the same motor noises, but saw no smoke.
Debbie and Mike skidded to a stop behind him.
"Where?" asked Robby. "I don't see any fire."
Debbie, who had expected to see walls of flame and a
tower of smoke, stopped crying when she saw only what
the others could see... basically nothing.
"I saw smoke!" she said. "From my window upstairs."
"What's that noise?" asked Mike. "It sounds like a tank
or something."
Robby started for the place in the fence where he and
his sister, in the past, had almost walked through to
get on the property, but now had to squeeze through.
Then he remembered Mike and his habit of keeping the
secret was so strong that he stopped. The fence led
down to the street and turned a corner to run almost a
block to the big iron gates.
"Come on." he yelled, and took off running for the
corner of the fence.
Minutes later the three youths stopped and stared. In
all their lives those massive wrought iron gates had
always been closed, with a heavy black chain and a huge
old padlock with the key hole on the front of it
keeping them that way.
But now the gates had been flung wide, the chain lying
on the ground with the old padlock, now lying broken,
lying forlornly beside it. A big flatbed truck and
trailer were parked on the street, with heavy ramps
leading down from the trailer. Where there had only
been a choked track through the forest behind the
gates, there was now an eight foot wide swath of
destruction, making a flat, open expanse to drive on.
There were tread marks in the exposed topsoil.
Without a thought the three ran up the newly cleared
track. A hundred yards later the motor noise was loud
and the teens slowed, and left the cleared track to
enter the woods. They lurked from tree to tree until at
last they could see what had happened.
There was a big yellow bulldozer pushing a huge pile of
trees and shrubs, that HAD been growing in the old
driveway, but were now a mangled collection of
destroyed vegetation. Other than the man driving the
bulldozer, only one other person was visible.
He looked at first like what all three kids thought a
hermit would look like. He had long, raggedy black
hair, with a wild unkempt beard that was at least a
foot long. He was wearing a black overcoat, regardless
of the fact that it was eighty-five degrees outside.
His arms were gastrulating, guiding the man on the
bulldozer... showing him where to push the big pile of
cleared plants. As it moved the bulldozer sent a huge
plume of black smoke up into the air out of it's
smokestack. Debbie recognized it immediately as what
she'd seen before.
Her relief at finding there was no fire though, was
completely overcome by finding strangers on the
property... HER property... her SECRET property. She
stood up and moved from behind the tree she had been
hiding behind and started marching toward the scene of
destruction.
Robby saw her and intuited what she was going to try to
do. But his mind reasoned that, without knowing who the
crazy looking man was, all that would probably happen
was that Debbie would get in trouble. He lunged forward
and grasped her slim waist, pulling her behind a huge
old oak tree. She struggled against him, her yells
overcome by the noise of the bulldozer as it strained
to push the huge pile of debris a little further. In
the end he had to put his arms all the way around her.
His hands inadvertently were filled with her breasts as
she strained to get away from him.
Mike looked on in astonishment as his two friends
struggled. What was Robby doing grabbing Debbie's
breasts? He had the flash of a thought that he wished
HE could be doing that. Debbie was a good looking chick
and he'd tried to get her to go out with him lots of
times, but she didn't go on dates. Neither did Robby.
Now Robby was yelling in her ear and she finally
stopped struggling. Her hands came to his and dragged
them off her breasts. Then she turned around and hugged
her brother, burying her face in his chest. Mike could
tell she was sobbing, but he couldn't figure out
whether it had to do with her breasts, or what was
going on that short distance away.
The motor of the bulldozer suddenly went quiet... so
quiet that it seemed to the kids as if they had gone
deaf. All three held their breath, Debbie less
successfully as she gasped a sob now and again. The
driver was getting down and his feet made noises on the
metal parts of the bulldozer. The sounds were so clear
that the kids suddenly thought any sound they made
would be clearly heard by the two men.
The hermit yelled, as if the motor was still running.
"That's fine for now. I can get a truck in here at
least. There'll be more work later, but I have to make
plans."
He walked over to meet the driver, digging in the
pockets of his overcoat. They saw him pull out a wad of
money that would choke a horse and he peeled bills off
of it, handing them to the driver.
In a softer, but clearly audible voice, the hermit said
"I thank you, sir, for your prompt service. I assume
cash will be sufficient?"
"Cash is right fine, mister Smith. And I appreciate the
bonus. I can use it. Running one of these beasts is
right costly. But they sure do short work of things.
When I was a boy we'd have had to do all that with
horses and it would have taken a week. But for your
bonus it wouldn't have hardly been worth taking her off
the truck."
Mister Smith smiled through his thick brush of fur and
waved. "I'll get the gate."
With that the driver got back on his iron beast and it
roared to life, the blade lifting like some monstrous
guillotine, ready to destroy something else.
Debbie flinched. She had been darting looks at the
house, and the pile of debris, and the hermit, trying
to assess what all this meant. The noise of the
bulldozer unnerved her. She saw with her own eyes what
it could do. She feared at first that he was just going
to make a long sweep back to the gate, destroying more
of their precious magical forest, but the thing, with a
groan of metal and the screaming of the motor, making
huge clouds of sooty black smoke, spun as if it were
light as a feather and lumbered off back down the
smooth track it had made. With the blade raised it
moved much faster than it had before.
The hermit stared at the pile of brush and trees and
gave a little shake of his head. Then he turned and
just looked at the mansion, hands on his hips, staring,
as if he could see something the others could not. The
noise of the bulldozer got more and more distant and
then there was a grinding noise made by the treads on
the big metal ramps leading up to the long, low
trailer. The noise cut off and it was quiet as a tomb
again.
The three teens stood, stock still, watching the
stranger watching the house.
After what seemed like an interminable time, there was
the sound of a truck motor starting, revving up and
pulling away. Mister Smith turned his head toward the
newly cleared driveway and then turned his body and
began walking down to the gate.
Silent shadows flicked from tree to tree... three
shadows... as the teens cut through the forest on a
soft carpet of dead, moist leaves. One of them stepped
on a branch that cracked like a gunshot to their ears
and the other two shot dark looks, raising fingers to
their lips. They crept on, arriving just in time to see
mister Smith leaned against the one open half of the
gate, pushing with all his strength to close it.
"Gonna have to get some oil on these hinges." he
muttered.
He moved inside and pulled, getting the two halves
closed as much as he could. Then, digging into another
pocket of that strange greatcoat, he pulled a shiny new
lock from it. Bending he gathered up the old chain and
draped it through the iron bars of the gate, pulling on
the loose ends until the gate closed even more. He
fumbled with the ends and then stood back. The new lock
was securely fastened. He nodded, turned on his heel,
and began trudging back up the drive toward the manor.
The three kids looked at each other, staring open
mouthed.
They were locked in.
Mike started to say something, but Robby shushed him
quietly. He held up a hand, standing still, his head
swiveling, watching the stranger until the number of
trees between watcher and watched got so numerous that
they could only catch glimpses of movement. Robby
waited longer and then finally dropped his hand. He
turned to his sister and friend and beckoned them
toward him.
"What are we gonna do?" whispered Mike anxiously. He
looked up at the sharp spikes that topped each upright
iron bar in the fence that, as far as he knew,
completely surrounded the property. The bars were only
six inches apart. There was no way to go through, or
over the fence.
"We know a way out." whispered Robby. Debbie shot him a
look but he shook his head. "We used to play in the
woods. Follow me."
He took them along the fence, back toward the corner
they'd run around... not right by the fence, but ten or
fifteen yards inside the undergrowth, as if he were
afraid someone outside the fence might see them. To his
credit he made it look as if he were searching for
something, though he knew exactly where the wide spot
in the bars was. It took them fifteen minutes to circle
the mansion. When they got there it was obvious that
there was a trail leading from the fence toward the
house.
"Look!" said Mike. "Somebody's been using this!"
"Game trail." said Robby confidently. "You know,
rabbits... deer... that kind of thing."
There WERE deer in these parts, though none of the
teens had ever seen one that hadn't been shot by a
hunter and hung up to butcher. Mike nodded. His primary
concern was getting out. There was no way he wanted to
go knock on the door and face mister Smith to get that
gate unlocked. He saw the gap in the fence. Someone had
gone to great lengths with some kind of heavy force to
bend the bars apart. What none of them knew was that
this was the entrance point that kidnappers had used
decades before to gain entry onto the property.
That wouldn't have mattered anyway. Now all three
youths squeezed between the bars. As soon as they were
out all three ran like the wind toward Debbie and
Robby's house.
They were out of breath when they arrived, pounding
through the door and into the kitchen, where they
stood, poised for further flight for some reason.
Debbie had a wild look in her eyes. Her hair, which had
been in a pony tail, had come partly undone, perhaps
from brushing a tree branch, and her hair flew off in
several directions. Her heaving chest caught Mike's
attention. He could see the dents in her shirt that he
knew were made by nipples.
"What was THAT all about?" he asked, breathlessly.
"I don't know." said Robby, sitting down. Then he stood
up again and went to the fridge, pulling out bottles of
Royal Crown Cola for them all. He couldn't find an
opener, digging through the junk drawer under the
counter. Debbie took hers and dug the edge of the
serrated cap into the aluminum strip that went along
the edge of the counter. She raised it fractionally and
then jerked downward. The cap sailed and she tipped the
bottle up, drinking thirstily.
"You know mom doesn't like that." chided Robby. "It
marks up the aluminum."
Debbie let the bottle fall back, half empty. She let
out a long burp and wiped her mouth with her forearm.
"That's not important right now." she said edgily. "We
have to stop that man."
"Why?" asked Mike, trying to do the same thing he'd
seen Debbie do, but unable to make it work. "Maybe he
bought the place."
Debbie jerked the bottle from his hands and opened it
for him expertly on the edge of the counter, like she
had her own. She handed it back to him.
"He CAN'T buy the manor." she unconsciously slipped
into her common name for the Nettleton Mansion.
Mike took a gulp of pop and tried to burp. It was a
short one and he looked disgusted. "Why not? If he's
crazy enough and has the money he can do what he
wants."
Debbie was about to hotly exclaim that he couldn't buy
the place because it was HERS!, but Robby shot her a
look that made her mouth snap shut.
"He doesn't look like he has that kind of money." said
Robby hurriedly.
"He sure pulled a bundle out of that coat." insisted
Mike. "And he paid that guy on that bulldozer. Maybe
he's some rich crazy guy or something. He'd have to be
crazy to buy that place. That's for sure." He went back
to trying to work up a respectable belch.
"We have to tell Mom!" said Debbie urgently. "She'll
know what to do."
"Why do you have to do anything?" insisted Mike. "Who
cares?" He took another swig of RC Cola. "I can't wait
to tell my parents." he said, exhibiting just who he
thought WOULD care.
"Yeah" said Robby. "Go home and tell your parents. I
need to... ah mow the lawn anyway."
Debbie could tell that her brother was trying to get
rid of his friend, which was fine with her, because
this was an emergency and they needed to DO something.
Mike, not having any of the urgency that was seething
beneath the surface of both twins, kept trying to work
up a burp. His eyes fell to Debbie's chest again.
"Hey, I just remembered something." he said.
The other two looked at him anxiously.
"When we were out there, watching them, and you tried
to go do something..." he addressed Debbie. "and Rob
stopped you? Remember?"
She nodded, wishing he'd just leave so she and her
brother could discuss what to do.
"Rob touched your titties." announced Mike.
"No he didn't." she said hotly.
"Yes he did! He had his hands all over your titties."
insisted Mike.
"What's your point Mike?" demanded Debbie.
"Well I was wondering if maybe you'd let me touch them
too." Mike had known the twins for as long as he could
remember, and he'd spent hours playing baseball with
them, or riding bikes or playing Monopoly. He'd always
accepted Debbie as just another friend... not a girl.
It was only recently that he'd noticed her as a girl.
"What kind of pervert are you?" Debbie leaned in close
to him.
"I'm not a pervert!" yelped Mike. "HE did it! So why
can't I?"
"Mike, buddy, I didn't grab her boobs on purpose, you
idiot." said Robby. "I was just trying to keep her from
running in front of that bulldozer. It was an
accident."
"Oh." said Mike with obvious disappointment, looking
down. He then looked back up, hope back in his eyes.
"What did it feel like? Were they soft?"
"You really ARE a pervert!" squealed Debbie.
"No I'm NOT!" defended Mike. "Guys do that all the
time. If you like a girl you're SUPPOSED to touch her
titties."
"So you like me?" asked Debbie, not at all sure how she
felt about that possibility. She had too many things on
her mind right now to think about that.
"No!" blurted Mike. "I mean you know... not like that.
I think you're cool and everything. I just never got to
touch a girls titties before."
Debbie folded her arms under the titties being
discussed, framing them nicely, though that wasn't her
intent.
"Well you're not going to be feeling mine any time
soon. I can't believe you Mike Sumner! I should tell
your mother what you just asked."
Mike reacted just like her brother would have,
groveling and begging and promising anything if she'd
refrain from getting him in trouble. It was a lesson
Debbie would remember. Up to that point the only male
she had any real sway over was her brother. At least in
terms of using extortion and blackmail to control a
boy. But she took it easy on him. All she really wanted
right then was for him to go home so she could talk to
Robby about the manor. So she told him to go home and
think about what he'd done, about how he'd hurt her
feelings. She even worked up a tear and managed to look
sad and confused about how a friend could sink so low.
Mike escaped while the escaping was good.
Once he was gone Debbie's demeanor changed instantly
from a weepy teenage girl to a young woman deadly
serious about attacking a real problem.
"What are we gonna do Robby?" she asked him worriedly.
"I don't know." he said, just as worriedly.
"We could call the police." she suggested.
"If he hired somebody to take a big machine like that
in there he's not trying to hide anything." reasoned
Robby. "I mean he's not trespassing or anything."
"What's he DOING there?!" cried Debbie. "That's OUR
place Robby! He can't just take it away from us! That's
not FAIR!"
"What about our stuff?" asked Robby.
Over the years they'd taken small personal items to the
house. The nest that had been in the root cellar had
been moved to one of the bedrooms that they adopted as
their own. There wasn't a lot other than a few smuggled
pillows and one blanket.
But what Robby was talking about was their treasure
trove. An old hand-made wooden jewelry box had been
found and, while it contained nothing of real value
that they could see, they had made it into the place
they put all the treasures they DID find in their
explorations. The two coins were there, along with a
heavy salt shaker that they thought was made of silver.
There was a polished comb of bone, intricately carved,
that Debbie used to pin up her hair when they played
dress-up in the past. And, their prize possession, a
gold pocket watch they'd found stuffed into a hole in
the mattress of what appeared to have been a woman's
bedroom. The watch still worked and it was beautiful.
"We have to go GET it!" whispered Debbie, even though
they were the only two people in the house.
"We can't do that. He'll catch us." whispered back
Robby.
"We'll wait ‘til he leaves and then get it." reasoned
Debbie.
"He locked that gate. What if he's NOT leaving?"
reasoned Robby.
"He HAS to leave sometime." said Debbie firmly.
In the end, they couldn't think of anything to do, and
each subsided to think while they waited for their
mother to get home. Both instinctively believed that
she would somehow know something that would somehow
make everything OK again.
Indecision reigned for half an hour as Debbie and Robby
tried to think of something to do. Debbie was probably
more upset about the changes in their world than Robby,
until she pointed out that they no longer had a place
to go to... play. As that sunk in Robby got more and
more upset until he was as frantic as Debbie.
"I'll go down to the bank and talk to Mom." he
suggested. "You stay here and watch the house." They
both knew he meant the mansion, and not their own
house.
For lack of a better plan, Debbie agreed and, after
Robby pounded out of the front door, she stood in her
window and stared at the dunce cap roof of the tower
next door.
Perhaps it was because Debbie had always been self
confident, afraid of very little, that she decided she
needed to watch the new goings-on from closer. It
wasn't a conscious decision that led her back to the
fence and their "private entrance", and through the
woods to the rear of the carriage house. But that's
where she found herself, peering through a tangle of
brush at the back of the mansion. There wasn't, of
course, much to see. The house sat there, like it
always had, lonely looking, run down and forlorn.
She had settled into a comfortable squat, holding on to
a branch to keep her balance, when sudden movement at
the back door of the house caught her eye. She was
suddenly struck by the fact that the boards that had
kept that entrance from being used were gone, and the
door had opened.
But the man who came out of that door and began walking
directly toward her was not the hermit she had seen
before. This man was younger, slimmer, without the
trench coat. And his face was smooth shaven, with a
thatch of brown hair above it... not the dark and
ominous beard and black hair of the hermit. He was
wearing shorts and a T shirt that was dark with sweat
around the neck and armpits. The man looked gray and
she realized he was covered with dust.
About the same time it registered in her brain that he
was walking toward her hiding place.
Panic seized her and she froze, not breathing as the
man stalked closer. Then he veered to his right and
approached the little wooden shack that sat alone in
what had been the far reaches of the back yard. The
kids had examined that little shack, puzzled at first
when all they found inside was a low shelf, like a
floor mounted cabinet, with a round smooth-edged hole
cut in the top, and a dark, empty pit under it. Then
Robby remembered seeing something like this at their
grandfather's farm when they were little. It was an
outhouse. Once that had been determined, they had
forgotten all about the little building. If they needed
to use the bathroom they simply went home.
But this man went to the shack, now leaning a bit
because of the growth of a big sycamore tree that had
grown up right next to it. He went inside and the door
slammed shut.
Debbie moved then, getting further behind the bush she
was hiding behind. She was amazed to hear singing
coming from the outhouse, snatches of an old rock and
roll tune from the fifties. He stayed in there for what
seemed a long time to her, and she jumped as the door
banged open and the man came out, zipping up his
shorts. He was still mumbling the words to the song,
and he even broke into a dance of sorts as he trudged
along the path that led to the structure. When he got
to the back door of the mansion he turned around and
his head swiveled as he surveyed the carriage house and
the woods around it. With a shake of his head he turned
on his heel and re-entered the house, slamming the door
closed behind him.
It was the normality of his actions that troubled
Debbie the most. He acted like he had every right in
the world to be in the house... to have removed the
barrier to entry... to use the outhouse. On impulse
Debbie backed out of her hiding place and retreated
deeper into the woods. She then began circling the
mansion, taking special care to see if there were any
other changes that had been made. With a sinking heart
she noted that the front door was also uncovered, as
were the windows at the front of the house. It looked
different somehow, more like a house, though still
disheveled and morose in appearance. Some of the
windows didn't look as grimy and fly-specked as she
remembered them.
It looked like the man... or men... were planning to
stay.
But there were still so many questions. Who was this
new man? Where was the hermit, and who was HE? Why had
they come to ruin things? What were they doing in the
house? Were THEY searching for treasure? Debbie thought
of her and Robby's little stash of recovered valuables.
It was lying in plain sight in the bedroom they'd
decided was "their" bedroom, which had once belonged to
a little girl. Had these strangers found that stash?
It was the desire to get answers to these questions
that drove Debbie to the root cellar, and through the
tunnel, to attempt to open the secret door as quietly
as she could. It made a horrible racket, the hinges
squeaking as she slowly pulled it open. It had never
made that much noise in the past... had it?
She didn't have a candle... hadn't thought to bring
one... but by now she knew the secret passage like the
back of her hand and didn't really need a light.
Slowly, taking extra care to step quietly, she crept up
the stairs, wincing at each creak her footfalls made.
The first peep hole gave her a view of the kitchen, but
no one was there. Then she tried the dining room, also
without success. As she approached the upper part of
the house she began to hear faint noises. She struck
pay dirt in the little boy's bedroom. The man... the
second man... was in that room. She peered through the
peep hole and watched as he moved a broom along the
floor. She wondered inanely why he wasn't using a
vacuum cleaner and then remembered there was no
electricity. The bed had been stripped and the decayed
mattress was standing, half leaning against one wall as
it tried to settle into a lump. What little furniture
was in the room had all been shoved to line one wall,
leaving the floor open for the man to sweep. He was
humming.
She was closer to him now and could examine him better.
She judged his age to be about that of her mother's. He
was deeply tanned and had obviously come from someplace
where he was in the sun a lot. His face was strong-
jawed and lined, as if he had spent a lot of time in
the weather. He wasn't skinny, but there wasn't an
ounce of fat on him either. His leg and arm muscles
were well defined. He looked like he was in good shape
and used to working hard. His hair looked wild and
unkempt, but only in the sense that it looked like he'd
lost his comb or something. He needed a haircut, or her
mother would think he needed one anyway.
Debbie realized her muscles were cramped. She had been
staring through the holes at the man for a long time
and hadn't moved. She backed up and then had a frantic
thought that her brother must be back by now and
wondering where she was. She turned and made her way
back down to the root cellar, trying to be quiet, and
astonished at how much noise her passage made. Once she
had stuck her head up out of the entrance to the cellar
and made sure the coast was clear, she ran like a deer,
dodging between trees and bushes, squeezing through the
fence and arriving at her house panting and sweating.
She slammed through the back door calling her brother's
name, but got no answer.
The phone rang suddenly on the wall right by her
shoulder and she jumped.
"HELLO!" she shouted into the handset, and then
relaxed, thinking how silly she was acting.
"Honey?" came her mother's voice. "Are you OK?"
Debbie sighed. "Yes Mom, I just had to run to get the
phone."
"Oh" said a confused Ramona Franklin. "It only rang
once."
"Um..." mumbled Debbie, trying to think of something to
say. "It rang a whole bunch of times here." she lied.
"Well, never mind. Honey, Robby was here. Don't do
anything! Do you hear me? Don't worry about anything.
I'll explain it when I get home."
"Mom!" complained Debbie. "What's going on?"
"I'll explain when I get home. Don't worry about it,
OK? Don't you go over there and bother that man. Do you
understand me Debbie?"
Her mom's voice held an anxious concern, as if there
were something terrible going on and she was afraid. It
didn't help things at all.
Debbie's take-charge attitude bubbled up. "Mommy I want
to know what's going on!" she pleaded. "Who is that
man? What's he doing over there?" She almost told her
mother what changes had been made to the place and then
remembered she wasn't supposed to know anything about
the mansion.
"Don't be scared, honey." said her mother's voice in
her ear. "I'll explain everything when I get home. I
have to get back to work. I'll see you in a few hours.
Bye bye."
The phone went dead and Debbie moved the handset to
where she could look at it, like she could will her
mother to come back on the line and answer her
questions. She slumped as she hung it up and leaned
against the wall. She was still breathing heavily.
Debbie gave out a little shriek as Robby barged in the
back door and almost ran into his sister. His hands
gripped her forearms. He had ridden his bike to the
bank and was as out of breath as she was. They stared
at each other for a few seconds, trying to decide what
to do or say.
"Mom said not to worry!" Robby barked as Debbie said "I
went over there!" at the same time.
Then there were the inevitable "What?!"s as they got
control of themselves and deciphered what each had
said.
Debbie took center stage, though, as Robby stared at
her astonished that she'd gone over there to spy by
herself. As she described what she saw he got more and
more upset.
"ANYTHING could have happened!" he shouted, getting red
in the face. "You could have gotten CAUGHT! He might
have HURT you!" He was shaking, still gripping her
forearms, his knuckles white, his fingers digging deep
into her muscles.
She shook him off "YOU'RE the one hurting me!" she
yelled, trying to shake free of his grasp. "Let GO of
me!"
His grip relaxed suddenly and she fell backward,
against the wall. She rubbed first one and then the
other forearm.
"I didn't get caught!" she said, her voice forced.
Robby felt weak suddenly. He was thinking about the
amorphous man catching his sister. His imagination
showed him slaps, her blouse tearing, her breasts
exposed to the stranger... He shook his head to stop
himself from thinking more.
He gripped her hands this time, more gently. "But you
COULD have gotten caught. Deb he might have done things
to you." he whined. "I couldn't live without you."
Debbie felt a flush of warmth in her belly at his
words. Her anger melted. She felt an overflowing gush
of love for her twin brother.
She slammed against him, her arms going around him as
he hugged her back instinctively. Her grip was
fierce... possessive.
"You're so sweet." she mumbled into his chest.
All their surprise... their fear... their
anxiousness... all the unanswered questions and the
tension that went along with everything that had
happened... it all burst forth in each of them in that
embrace.
This... this embrace... this intimacy, was something
they DID understand... something that made them feel
safe and warm. All the emotions they felt were suddenly
channeled toward that intimacy and the embrace became
sexual.
They both felt each other's bodies pressed against the
other. Debbie's face came up and her lips sought her
brother's. It was a crushing kiss, a bruising kiss, a
kiss filled with urgency to do something they both were
comfortable with.
They'd never done anything sexual at home together. It
was an unwritten, almost unacknowledged rule. What they
shared was reserved for the manor, that little girl's
bedroom, with the ghosts looking on fondly as something
loving was done in the house that had so many terrible
memories staining it's old walls.
But the urge was so strong that that prohibition was
blown away as if by a tornado. Still kissing, still
hugging, they fumbled with each other's clothing, he
unbuttoning her blouse and she tugging at the fastening
of his shorts. His hands roamed across her breasts, his
palms scraping her sensitive nipples as her hand snaked
into his shorts to grip his suddenly stiff prick. The
strangeness of their contact - they had never touched
each other before... only watching the other as they
sated their passions - that strangeness didn't seem odd
at all. Too many other strange things had happened and
what they wanted now was something to make them feel
good, and happy.
Standing in the hallway by the kitchen, though, wasn't
what Debbie wanted. She wanted to be naked... on a bed.
She wanted an orgasm naked and on a bed, and she pulled
him, gasping and panting to the short stairway that led
to her bedroom. He held her hand with one hand and held
his shorts up with the other as he staggered along
behind her.
No words were necessary and they both stripped out of
their clothes efficiently and quietly. He got naked
first and stood there, his prick pointing at her like
an accusing finger. As soon as she dropped her panties
she melted against him again, though, that hard cock
pressing into her abdomen. She shivered, even though
both were sweating still, from their exertions and
excitement.
Since masturbation was what they knew, they gravitated
naturally toward that as Debbie pulled him to the bed
and gasped "Touch me."
They ended up lying side by side, kissing each other
with long, breath-stealing kisses as his fingers
fumbled at first between her legs. She raised one leg
and draped it on top of his to give him room. Her hand
gripped his cock and slid sensuously along it's length.
Then, because they had watched each other dozens of
times, their hands took on familiar rhythms. Her stroke
was the same speed he used when he started, and his two
fingers found her electrifying nubbin and began
circling it, scraping sideways across it occasionally.
Almost naturally, as she speeded up and his prick began
to weep its sticky essence, his fingers moved in faster
circles. She moaned as she felt her orgasm within a
hair's breadth away and jerked him even faster.
"Oh Robby" she gasped. "Pinch it for me Robby."
His slippery fingertips found the bump and he tried to
grasp it, slipping off again and again. But that
squeezing mashed it delightfully and she tumbled into
an orgasm harder than any she'd brought on herself. Her
tenseness, her whining voice as she made nonsense
sounds, and her hand, still whaling on his prick,
brought Robby off and his cock delivered it's heavy
load between them, getting on their stomachs, her
breasts and her hand and arm as she kept pulling.
"Uhhh....Uhhhh...Ahhhhh" groaned Robby as his seed
erupted satisfyingly. Her hand left his prick to grab
his own hand, stopping him from abusing her clitty any
longer. It was too sensitive now and she didn't need
any more stimulation. She sagged, her face rolling into
his chest as her hand came to the mess between them and
spread its warm mass up to her breasts and over each
nipple.
"Oh Robby" she sighed.
There was no shame or remorse. What they had shared was
something priceless, to be remembered and savored many
nights when they weren't together.
It had also drained them of their anxiety and worry.
"I made a mess." said Robby, rolling away from her.
"I don't care." she said, still stroking her breasts
and belly with her spunk-covered hand. "We can clean it
up before Mom gets home."
"I really liked that Deb." he sighed.
"Me too." she sighed back. "Why didn't we think about
doing that before this?"
"I don't know." he said. He rolled back toward her for
a kiss, disregarding the wet between them. It was worth
it to taste her lips again.
Eventually his spend cooled, and got uncomfortable for
both of them. They rolled apart and bounced up off the
bed, suddenly energized by the task of getting the
bedspread into the washing machine and using warm wash
clothes to clean each other up. Robby paid special
attention to the fluff of hair between Debbie's legs
and she laughed and pushed him away.
"Stop!" she giggled. "You'll get me going again."
"So?" he asked.
"Mom will be home soon." she chided. "I don't think
she'd approve."
"You got that right." he sighed. "Is what we do wrong
Deb?"
"I don’t' think so." she said firmly. "It feels too
good to be something bad."
"What are we going to do now?" he asked. They both knew
he was talking about the loss of their private place.
"I don't know. Mom said she could explain it. All we
can do is wait and see what she says." Debbie sounded
sad.
Chapter Three
=============
Ramona Franklin's emotions were almost at as high a
peak as her childrens' had been as she drove home from
the bank. She'd known this day might come. She'd
dreamed that this day might come. But another part of
her had dreaded this day coming. It was all tied up
with her past, a past she'd tried to leave behind her
like a bad dream. She'd gone to college, looking for
and hoping to find a man to share her life with so that
her life could be normal. Up to that point in time her
life had been anything but normal.
Ramona HAD found a man, whom she had fallen in love
with, and who had presented her with two beautiful,
normal, happy children. That he had been someone she
knew long before she ever stepped upon a college campus
was as much a surprise to her as it was to him. They
had gone to High School together, but had traveled in
different social circles. She tried to fade into the
background and he was involved in every extra
curricular activity he could fit into his schedule. She
had gone home to study each day, doing extra work on
the weekends, while he dated all the popular girls.
When they bumped into each other at a Freshman mixer at
Welsley College, she was amazed to see him. It was an
exclusive school, so small that most people didn't even
know it existed. He had been from a blue collar family,
with limited means. And he had smiled at her.
"Hey, is it a small world or what?" he said, walking up
to her.
She hadn't thought he'd recognize her. "I didn't think
you'd even know who I am." she replied.
"Are you kidding? It's great to see a familiar face. I
thought I was going to be all alone here." he said.
Their chat had turned into a pledge to study together.
He had obtained an academic scholarship, and needed to
keep high marks to maintain it. He was also the first
person in his family to go to college, so a lot of
hopes were riding on him. His manner was so easygoing
that Ramona had pushed away her fear of letting someone
close to her.
By the time they had finished the first semester they
were not only study mates, but they were lovers. He
never questioned why she had no virginity to make their
first time uncomfortable, or that she seemed to know
what to do, perhaps even more than he did. She never
talked about her past, and he never questioned her
about it, seeming to know that she didn't want to that
subject broached.
They married while they were seniors, when it became
apparent she was going to have his baby, despite the
precautions they had taken. Both welcomed the marriage
and the baby. That was what young people were supposed
to do. His family welcomed her into their lives. She
had no family to ask questions, and her guardian was
happy to see her married so that he could begin to
finalize certain arrangements and his task would be
complete.
When Richard had taken her back to Nettleton, to show
her their new house, a time she should have been
overjoyed, she was almost crushed. She couldn't believe
it was right next to the house that inhabited her bad
dreams, the house in which her parents had been slain,
the house that she never wanted to see again in her
life. Right next door to the Nettleton mansion.
Her husband didn't know, of course, because she hadn't
told him. All he knew was that her parents were dead in
a tragic incident. He didn't know she was Elizabeth
Nettleton, or that, upon marriage, she would receive
her portion of a trust fund that would make them
wealthy beyond almost anyone's wildest dreams. He
didn't know because Ramona didn't want the money. She
wanted a normal life, free from her past. The irony of
having to live next to the one place on earth she never
wanted to see again was almost palpable, but she didn't
say anything. She didn't want him to know. And when she
was summoned one last time to her guradian, who handed
her the legal letter informing her that an account had
been established in maiden name, which she was free to
draw upon at her will, she burned the letter, and the
account number with it.
Her mind drifted, against her will, to the history she
wanted to forget.
When Ramona and her brother had first been carried out
of the crime scene, there had been chaos for a while.
They had been separated at first, having been placed in
an orphanage where boys and girls were not allowed to
mix, whether they were related or not. Most four-year-
olds don't remember much about what happened to them at
that age, but the changes in Ramona's life were so
tumultuous that they were imprinted in her mind
forever.
It had taken six months for her father's will to be
found and executed. That will had very specific
provisions in it about who would take care of the
children, and provided funds from the estate to do so.
Ramona's reunion with her brother was joyous, but
relatively short-lived. The woman her father had
specified as guardian only had charge of them for a
year before her tuberculosis wasted her away. The court
then gave over their care to another family, a family
that the judge classified as "temperate and stable" and
which made their living by fostering children such as
the two.
Ramona's life had been good with the woman, and her
relationship with her brother had been close. Their new
guardian sent them to boarding school, paid for by
trust funds established in their father's will, but
they saw each other rarely, in arranged formal "sitting
room" meetings, where they were expected to drink tea
and have light conversation.
The house and grounds in which they had lived was also
put into trust, to be turned over to Robert upon
reaching his majority. Money was set aside to ensure
that the property was maintained. Other funds were put
into trust for the children, but conditions were
attached. For Ramona, she would receive access to her
trust when she married, or finished college, whichever
came first. For Robert, his trust could not be touched
until he graduated from a university.
Roger Nettleton had planned well, and his will had been
very detailed and specific. But, without an advocate
keeping a close eye on things and, people being what
they are, things didn't always go as he had planned.
The money was guarded by banks and the law, and though
people tried to get at it, they failed, for the most
part. Their new guardian didn't care about the house.
He signed off on authorizations for it's upkeep, but
didn't actually check to see what was happening. Those
funds were skimmed and pocketed most of the time.
The boarding school presented inflated bills and
expenses associated with the Nettleton children, and
the finite amount of money legally set aside for that
purpose, that should have taken care of their education
through High School, was depleted by the time they were
in the eighth grade.
When their guardian couldn't find a way to extract more
money from the estate, he was forced to take them into
his own home, where they were, for the most part,
unwelcome mouths to feed. The other fosterlings in the
house had an established hierarchy of "rank". Ramona
and Robert were at the lower end of the scale, getting
only hand-me-downs and the last helpings of food.
Their new guardian had had some success in the past at
getting money by having the children take his name. It
wasn't adoption - that would have ended outside
financial compensation - but sometimes a child's trust
fund could be penetrated in the legal twists and turns
of such a procedure. Ramona, in a vain effort to
exorcise the horrors of her past, accepted that
suggestion, adopting her middle name and the last name
of her guardian.
Robert did not.
While the man's dream of getting access to Ramona's
trust failed, she was glad for her name change when
they entered the public school system. As they went
through school, teachers always perked up when the
Nettleton name was called in class. No one paid any
attention to Ramona Shanks, though, and she preferred
it that way. People knew she lived in the same house,
and that there was "another Nettleton child", but never
put the two together.
Robert, knowing the travails of bearing the Nettleton
name, did not publicly acknowledge that Ramona was his
sister. He protected her as best he could at "home",
where they shared a room that was big enough for one
child. They both tried to keep a low profile, both at
home and at school and, for the most part, succeeded.
There was a price to pay, however, and that price was
that the only people in the world who loved the
Nettleton children were... each other. Their forced
proximity at home, sleeping in the same bed well into
puberty, and their reliance on each other for all of
their emotional needs, led to a closeness between the
siblings that society would have been horrified at.
Their guardian, a man with zealous religious
convictions, was not aware of their relationship, and
the effect that entering puberty had had on that
relationship. He worked ceaselessly to convince Robert
that service to mankind as a missionary was the only
way to extinguish the evil that had hounded the
Nettleton family in the past. He tried to convince
Ramona of that as well, encouraging her to become a
nun. There was, in the back of the man's mind, the
thought that if she never married, and Robert never
went to college, all that money would remain in the
bank, and he might find some way to get it.
Ramona had resisted the man's brainwashing.
Robert had not.
He was tortured, not only by their family history, but
by the fact that the only real joy he experienced was
when he was in his sister's welcoming embrace, as they
writhed naked in the dark of night, performing their
sinful dance of lust together. The thought of receiving
forgiveness for what he couldn't control drove him to
follow their guardian's plan. After High School he
joined a group of missionaries, turning his back on
wealth.
He hadn't told Ramona of his decision until the night
before he was due to leave. She didn't know this was
the last time she'd feel his weight pinning her to the
lumpy mattress as he probed her depths with his manhood
and she felt the warm rush of his love spewing into her
womb.
He gave her that one last moment of bliss before he
turned her world on its ear once again.
Then, he disappeared overseas somewhere, being chased
by his own demons.
She cried bitterly for weeks after he left. Her loss
was assuaged to some degree by the letters he sent,
addressed to her through their guardian.
And she responded to those letters. The letters were
forwarded to him by the people who administrated
whatever mission he was assigned to at the time. When
she went to college he was able to send his letters
directly to her, but she still had to respond by
routing her letters through the mission center, because
many times he could collect his mail only every six
months or so. She told him, over the years of her new
life, college, Richard and her children. She informed
him her desire to keep her past secret from her new
husband. She knew he was in Africa somewhere, after
having been stationed in several other exotic
locations.
His letters grew fewer and fewer, and hers to him as
she found love and emotional support from Richard
replacing that of her distant brother. When she and
Richard had moved into their new home, and she no
longer had a private mail box in which to receive
letters from a man her husband knew nothing about, she
made the gut-wrenching decision to stop writing. She
had cried about that for weeks too.
They had not communicated for the past five years.
She had tried to ignore the unhappy place next door to
her new home, and concentrated instead on loving her
husband and raising her twins. She hoped that Robert
could find some happiness too.
Then, as if the dark miasma of her former home had
sniffed around and found her, seeping through the iron
fence to continue its assault on normalcy, her husband
was killed. A truckload of paper products was too
heavy, and the brakes of the truck failed as it came
down the mountain side. Richard had seen what was
happening and drove for the shoulder. The truck driver,
thinking to avoid hitting any cars, also headed for the
woods at the side of the road. Neither could adjust and
Richard was killed instantly.
Had her twins not been there... not needed her... she
would have taken her own life. But she had to go on.
There was only one other person she could turn to...
her brother Robert, but the one human in the world who
might be able to fully understand how she felt was
beyond her reach. She didn't even know where he was any
more. The thought of what it would take to write a
letter, which might not even be read by him for months,
caused her to leave pen and paper lying unused.
She got a job at the bank, ironically the same bank
that still guarded a fortune that was hers, but which
she still thought of as blood money. She was aware
that, while he was involved in his missionary work,
Robert had somehow obtained a college degree. Access to
personal accounts gave her the information that he drew
from his own fortune from time to time, but not in
large amounts. He used less than the annual interest
his account earned. She took comfort in seeing those
small transactions, though, because that told her he
was still alive.
Life had eventually settled back down for Ramona. Her
twins and her job filled her days for her, as well as
her love of reading and quilting. She made a half dozen
intricate, huge quilts that adorned the beds in the
house and filled several storage containers.
In honor of her brother's life work, she made a large
number of plainer ones that she donated to Robert's
missionary headquarters to be sent wherever they were
needed. She also gave them to the Salvation Army,
dropping them off as simple donations packed in paper
sacks recycled from grocery shopping. A woman who
worked at the Salvation Army center had wanted to know
her name, but she demurred, simply saying "These are
for whoever needs them."
Toiling over the quilts gave her satisfaction that she
was doing something worthwhile with the time she had
wanted to throw away when Richard was killed.
And she was proud of her children. They were smart, and
strong and happy, untouched by the ugliness of their
heritage and unearned wealth that might have corrupted
them. She knew she'd have to dip into her unwanted
trust fund to send them to college, but that was for a
good cause too, and she didn't want them to have to
scrimp and work, like she had forced herself to do in
school. True, her tuition had been taken care of by the
trust fund, but her living expenses she earned herself,
never responding to letters asking how much she needed
for such things.
She had been tempted, when, after Richard died, her
guardian contacted her and suggested he knew worthy
charities that could benefit from the money she wasn't
spending, but she ignored him. He was a cold and
loveless man, who dominated his wife mercilessly, as if
she were chattel. His attitude toward the children
under his care was also cold and distant. She had
suspicions about where the money would have gone. Even
though he had been handsomely paid for his duties under
the court appointment that gave him dominion over the
Nettleton children, he had made it quite clear that he
deserved more, and they deserved nothing.
That she didn't want her children to ever face such a
life was a lesson she learned the hard way. Her will
was up-to-date and even more specific than her father's
will had been when he was murdered in his bed.
All had been mostly serene. She found happiness in her
children, and the things she used her time for. There
was an emptiness in her heart since Richard had been
taken, but that pain was less severe than others she
could recall.
There had been overtures from men from time to time.
She wasn't a raving beauty, in her opinion, though many
of those men would have disagreed. Their attention had
appealed to the little vanity she had left in her...
had made her feel warm and good. But the idea of
laboring toward a relationship that was more than just
dinner now and then, or that included passion, was
something she avoided. There had been too much loss in
her life to risk more. Nothing gained meant nothing
could be lost, as far as she was concerned. That
passion still lurked in her, she knew. She tried to
keep a lid on that, succumbing to her infrequent sexual
yearning only in-so-far as using her fingers to bring
release now and again.
She convinced herself it was enough.
Yes, life wasn't so complicated that she couldn't enjoy
it, all things considered.
Until she received a registered letter, in her married
name, addressed to her at the bank.
It was from her brother.
She had no idea how he had tracked her down, but he
had. She had read it so often that its contents were
committed to memory now:
"Dearest Rami,
I have done what I could to comfort the bereft wherever
I found them. I have missed you more than I would have
thought possible. Living among the needy has
illuminated my own emptiness.
I have decided to return to our house... to restore it
to its former grandeur, and try to make of it a place
of happiness and light. I know you want nothing to do
with that sad place, but this is something that is
driving me. I know not what I'll do with it once its
darkness is expelled. I know I may not even be able to
do that. Perhaps I'll donate it to the county as a
museum. But I know this is something I must do.
I want to see you again too, dearest sister. I know you
are happy with your husband and family, and I will not
intrude upon that happiness. Please find it in your
heart to let me see you again when I return, if only
briefly and in secret, and then I shall retreat again,
leaving you to your well-deserved wonderful life.
The image of your face in my mind has lifted me from
despair on more occasions than I could count. I know I
was never a good brother to you, but I have learned
much about the world and myself in my years abroad. I'm
not the man you knew so long ago.
I don't know exactly when I'll be done with this
commitment. I'll contact you when I return.
All my love"
His signature was simple script, spelling "Bobby"
That had been a rough day for Ramona. Memories and
fears had come rushing back, affecting her so much that
another employee had become alarmed, asking if she were
OK and offering to call for help. She had folded up the
letter and gotten control of herself, stammering that
everything was fine... that it was just a bit of
unsettling news. She had thrown herself back into her
work, concentrating on each of her customers as if they
were the only people alive at the time.
Later she had re-read the letter, and many times since
then. Her emotions had undergone a roller coaster-like
journey within her mind. She was filled with questions.
How could Robert want to have anything to do with the
mansion? True, he owned it, according to the provisions
of their father's will, but how could he want to
restore it? Could it even BE restored? What did that
mean for her and her children, living in the shadow of
the place? How would she feel when she saw him? What
would she say? How would all this change her life?
And then, there was their former relationship to think
about. As children they had clung to each other,
orphaned by cruel circumstance, living in a cold and
loveless place with foster parents who cared but little
for them. They had naturally bonded much more closely
than most siblings ever did. That bonding, over the
years, had led to things their guardian would have
raged at... would have called an abomination. He had
never known what they did together. Those times were
the few memories Ramona had that were joyous and happy.
She loved her brother and he loved her, and nothing
could take that love away. There was bitterness there
too, though, for the fact that their love could not be
consummated publicly. Society forbade that. Never mind
thousands of years of historical precedence. Never mind
that their love was true and pure. Never mind that they
could be happy together. That was not to be... not if
the powers of "propriety" had anything to say about it.
And, knowing that, Robert had foresworn their love and
separated from her, tearing her heart from her chest.
Once again, the only love they had known was ripped
from them by events beyond their control, leaving
wounded, bleeding survivors to make their way in that
hostile world as best they could.
And now... that wound would be reopened. Robert made it
clear that he didn't intend to interrupt her life, but
he didn't know of the changes that had taken place
since her last letter to him. He made it clear that
their former relationship was a thing of the past, and
that he didn't intend to resume it. But Ramona's
feelings on that point weren't so clear.
All in all, Ramona was as upset about the "stranger"
who had opened the gates of the Nettleton Mansion after
all these years as her children were. Ironically, their
fears were remarkably similar. Their lives had been
turned topsy-turvy, and the result was an emotional
storm of doubt, fear, and anguish over forbidden love.
She pulled into her driveway, stopped the car, and laid
her head gently against the steering wheel as she wept
quietly.
Ten minutes later, providence preventing her children
from realizing she was home already, the woman who
entered the Franklin household was a completely
different woman.
"I'm home." she sang, expecting and getting an excited
welcome from her children.
"Thank GOODNESS you're home!" Debbie said excitedly,
skipping into the living room, where her mother was
dropping her purse and keys on the sideboard where she
kept them.
Ramona held up her hands. "Be patient a little longer.
We're having a visitor for dinner tonight. All will be
explained."
"But Mahhhhhm" came the drawn out protest. "You HAVE to
tell us what's going on!"
Ramona, had she stopped to think about it, would have
recognized that her daughter's response to the current
"crisis" was out of proportion to what it should have
been. As far as Ramona knew, her children lived next
door to, but had no interaction with, the sad property
next door. To them, it should have just been a
moldering old house with a mysterious past, quietly
rotting away in the midst of an untended forest of
unruly vegetation.
But her own emotional state prevented her from
recognizing that her children were MUCH too interested
in her old home. She had never told them about her
past. When they asked about grandparents she simply
reported them dead and buried long ago. She had never
mentioned the uncle they didn't know they had, or the
fact that Nettleton blood flowed in their veins. She
assumed they were curious about who had re-opened the
Nettleton place in the same manner as the rest of the
town would be when they learned of it. The gossip would
fly... no doubt about that.
And so, lacking a plan to inform her children of
everything she had omitted from their family history,
she had decided just to let Robert explain it.
Thankfully, he had called her at the bank when he got
to town and began hiring contractors.
Just hearing his voice had made her so weak she almost
couldn't have a conversation with him. He'd wanted to
see her, but at that time she couldn't trust herself to
be able to stand, let alone conduct civilized verbal
discourse. Instead of trying to bring him up to date,
she had just invited him to dinner. She anchored her
hopes for rational behavior in the familiarity of
preparing a meal in her own house, with her children
nearby. There would be hours in which they could figure
out what to do and how to explain all this to the
twins.
She hoped it would work. She had no earthly idea
whether it would or not, but she hoped events would
take care of themselves and that she wouldn't burst
into tears or have a complete breakdown.
Now, though, she faced her daughter, who was by then
backed up by her son. "I have to fix dinner. Our guest
will be here at seven. In the mean time you two need to
pick up the house. It's a pigsty and I won't have
guests in our home with it looking like this."
There were moans of discontent, but she insisted on
keeping to her "plan" as it were.
Part of the moans were because the house was already
spotless. Oh, there was the odd magazine lying here,
and an empty glass sitting there, but Ramona kept a
trim ship all the time, and had required her children
to do the same. In truth that was one reason they were
attracted to the manor. There was no hope of cleaning
that place up and, while there, they could relax and be
as comfortable as they wanted to, leaving things lay
wherever they wanted to. Their mother's training had
sunk in, though, and they had, unthinkingly, slowly
straightened and dusted things, at least in a few
rooms, and they usually removed any trash they
generated from food waste they brought into the place.
So, while they went through the fruitless motions of
"cleaning", which mostly meant picking things up from
where they belonged and then putting them right back
where they belonged, the teens tried to communicate
without words about what they thought might be going
on. Anyone else would have thought it was comical to
see them miming and mouthing things at each other as
they did things that didn't need to be done.
They noticed that dinner was going to be special. Their
mother was making Lasagna in that special way of hers
that meant it was for somebody important. Then there
were hot rolls, also a special occasion food. Finally
there was asparagus, which was expensive, and there was
a relish tray with black olives too, along with tiny
sweet pickles, and carrot sticks and even deviled eggs.
She was going all out and that raised the bar as far as
how important this dinner guest was.
Debbie tried again, while offering to help in the
kitchen. "Who is this mysterious man?" she asked
casually.
"I told you to wait until our guest gets here. He'll
explain everything."
"No, not the man next door. Who is coming to dinner?"
Debbie prodded, not having any idea that their guest
WAS the man next door.
Ramona smiled to herself. "I don't recall saying our
dinner guest was a man." she said.
"Oh come on Mommy" wheedled Debbie. "OK, who is they
mysterious woman who's coming to dinner?"
"I don't believe I said our guest was going to be a
woman either." said Ramon, enjoying her teasing.
Debbie's ire was as instantaneous as it was explosive.
"MOTHER, YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHO'S COMING TO DINNER
OR I'M GOING TO SCREAM!" she screamed.
Ramona turned to her daughter with shock on her face.
Debbie didn't act like this. These were unusual
circumstances, but why could she care THAT much who was
coming to dinner?
She started to question her daughter, but Robby danced
in and pulled at his sister's arm.
"Come on Deb, I need your help in here for a minute."
Debbie shook off her brother's grip and took a breath
to make her demand again. She was frowning horribly,
obviously upset.
Ramona was astonished to see Robby grab his sister
firmly by the waist and pull her bodily out of the
kitchen as she slapped at him and tried to turn around.
"DROP IT DEBBIE." he commanded, his voice suddenly
deep.
Ramona was astonished as much by his assertiveness as
she was by the fact that Debbie deflated and let him
pull her out. She started to go after them, but the
sauce began to boil and she had to stop and take care
of that.
Outside the kitchen Robby shoved Debbie up against a
wall and, instead of reasoning with her, he kissed her,
pinning her to the wall between his arms, pressing his
chest against hers. She tried to turn her head and he
bit her lip gently. Then as she said "OW!" into his
mouth he let her go and stepped back. She looked at him
with amazement and a little fear.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she hissed in a whisper, looking
at the doorway to the kitchen only ten feet away.
"Stopping you from doing something stupid." he
whispered back, leaning toward her. "Leave it alone or
she's going to know something's up."
"Of COURSE something's up you idiot!" whispered his
sister, but the shock of what he'd done had robbed her
of her anger and she slumped.
"Come on" he mouthed, reaching for her hand. She
followed him, almost stomping, lifting her whole hip to
let her leg swing forward, rather than just walking.
She was pouting.
He took her to the living room and pushed her down on
the couch.
"It's only forty-five minutes. What's done is done and
you can't force anything to happen." he lectured her.
"You're not my boss." she said in a sulk.
"No, but I'm big enough to spank you." he threatened.
"You WOULDN'T!" she yipped.
"Yes I would." he warned.
"You CAN'T!" she reasoned.
"I will if you don't settle down." He leaned toward her
and she shrank back from him. His hands kept coming
though and he started tickling her.
She shrieked and twisted, her hands flailing at him,
trying to tickle him back and they ended up laughing as
their mother, done with things in the kitchen long
enough to investigate her children's strange behavior
walked into the room. Ramona stopped and stared at her
completely normal acting children as they tusseled with
each other. She shook her head, checked her watch, and,
with a harried expression, turned back to the kitchen.
The twins had seen her out of the corner of their eyes,
and when she went back in the kitchen they both felt a
rush of relief. Robby snatched at his sister's breasts
and squeezed them once before jumping back as she
charged up off the couch, her hand low and open in a
claw, obviously going for his jewels.
Now he ran TO the kitchen, where she couldn't grab him
in the place she intended to, laughing as she chased
him.
"Mom! Debbie's being mean to me." he whined as he ran
to his mother and tried to get between her and the
counter.
Ramona's hands were covered with flour and her son's
actions startled her. She spun in a circle as Robby got
behind her and gripped her waist. He used her as a
shield. Debbie tried to reach around her mother to
pinch her brother and was laughing as Ramona stood, not
knowing what to do, her hands out.
"CHILDREN!" she yelled.
They stopped, and she looked at Debbie, who was
grinning. It was a moment where prior bonding asserted
itself. As Ramona said "Behave!" her daughter flowed
against her for a hug. Then her son added his hug to it
and they were suddenly a Mommy sandwich... a group of
hugging people.
Ramona was overcome with a sudden rush of love for her
children. As their fears had evaporated during a sexual
act, hers evaporated during a loving act and she hugged
Debbie fiercely. Then she turned to gather Robby into
one arm, while she gripped Debbie with the other.
"It's going to be all right." she said, her eyes almost
overflowing with tears of mixed joy and apprehension.
"Everything's going to be fine."
Debbie, her eyes also wet, said "I love you Mommy."
Ramona returned it. "I love you too baby. I love you
both more than anything in the whole world."
"I'll be patient." said Debbie.
"Thank you." said Ramona, unnerved by how much she
meant that.
"Especially if you'll tell me who's coming to dinner."
said Debbie, grinning and kissing her mother on the
cheek.
Ramona barked a laugh and slapped her daughter on her
behind, leaving a ghostly white handprint. "Now get out
of here and get ready. It's somebody special. That's
all I'm telling you. Go on now." she gave Debbie
another whack as they disentangled themselves.
"And don't wear anything dirty or wrinkled!" called
their mother as they left to go to their rooms.
Debbie stood in her room dressed only in panties. She
was trying to figure out what to wear. Her mother's
actions made it plain that whoever it was that was
coming, he... or she... was somebody important. So that
meant Debbie should wear something nice. She chose her
favorite blouse, and a pair of hip-hugging slacks. She
didn't want to wear a bra, but put one on anyway, since
nice girls wore them. Looking in the mirror she
frowned. Her hair was a mess. She grabbed a brush and a
rubber band. A pony tail would have to do.
Ramona put the final touches on the dishes she had
prepared. Her stomach was full of butterflies and her
knees felt weak. She had a clear vision in her mind of
her brother, but it was his image at eighteen. She knew
he had to have changed, as she had. The last them he'd
seen her she had mere swells for breasts, and was thin
and bony. Good food and children had changed her body,
making it full and rounded. Her breasts, swollen with
milk for her babies, had stayed full, even when she
stopped breast feeding. She knew there were a few
wrinkles on her face too. She wasn't fat, by any means,
but she didn't look anything like she had the last time
her brother had seen her.
She hung up her apron and started for her own bedroom,
where she intended to dress in a dark blue sundress
that would be both comfortable and, she hoped, pretty.
It only had spaghetti straps, so she wouldn't be able
to wear a bra, but her breasts didn't sag too much. She
thought it would be OK.
Ramona had taken only three steps when the front
doorbell rang. He was here! He was early! She was a
wreck!
Before she could make any decision about what to do
Debbie flashed past her at a dead run.
"I'LL GET IT!" she yelled excitedly.
Robby was close behind, shuffling down the stairs in
that light bouncing way that only young people can
descend a staircase.
"He's early!" squeaked Ramona.
The world went into slow motion for Ramona. This wasn't
how things were supposed to be. She wanted to be the
one to open the door, to usher in the man her children
knew nothing about, to introduce him, dressed nicely.
"WAIT!" she screamed.
Debbie skidded to a stop by the front door. Her face
turned, questioning to her mother.
"I'm not ready!" said Ramona, her voice shaky.
"We can't just leave him out there!" said Debbie
reaching for the knob.
"But..." started Ramona, as Debbie turned the knob and
pulled the door open.
Ramona's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she
gasped.
Standing in the door was a disheveled looking man. He
was stooped, as if old. He had a wild nest for hair,
and a long black beard. He was wearing a trench coat.
He looked like a bum, searching for a handout.
"Hello" said the man in a modulated voice, somewhere
between bass and tenor. "I'm mister Smith."
The reactions from the members of the Franklin family
were remarkably similar though slightly different.
Debbie gasped and stepped back from the door, away from
the man.
Ramona gasped and stood stock still.
Robby gasped and took a step forward, his protective
instincts on sudden alert.
Mister Smith appeared to smile beneath his beard. "Your
mother has graciously invited me to dinner this
evening. I'm afraid I'm a little early. I hope this
does not inconvenience you too much." He spoke with a
strange accent, like he wasn't from America, but spoke
English fluently.
Ramona recovered first. The man's voice was the same
one she'd heard on the phone, and recognized as her
brother's. His appearance was completely unexpected
and... wrong somehow.
"Mister... Smith" she said, her voice trembling a
little. "Please come in. I apologize for my appearance,
but... as you said... you are a bit early. Children!"
she barked. "Get Mister Smith something to drink and
take his... coat." That seemed odd to say in the middle
of summer.
Debbie, staring at the man in horror, chose to go to
the kitchen, leaving Robby to step toward the man, his
hand outstretched for the coat, which was still firmly
settled on his shoulders.
Instead Mister Smith gripped Robby's hand and pumped it
with vigor.
"I'm very happy to meet you." he said. "And your name
is...?"
"Robby" said the boy with a dry throat. The man's grip
was firm and warm, what Robby had been told was a
"good" handshake.
"Robby as in Robert?" mused the man, still not taking
off his coat.
"No, just Robby." said Robby. "Your coat?"
"If it's all the same to you I'd just as soon wear it."
said the strange man. "I have a condition... it's not
catching, mind you... but I'm more comfortable with it
on."
Debbie appeared in the entrance to the living room, a
glass of iced tea in her hand. She held it out from
across the room, as if she hoped he could extend his
arm like rubber to grasp it and she wouldn't have to
come any closer.
"What a beautiful young woman." said Mister Smith
admiringly. You are the very picture of your mother..."
the sentence was strangely cut off, as if he had been
about to say something more, and then decided not to.
"Thank you?" Debbie's voice came as a question.
Ramona came down the stairs. She was wearing her blue
sundress and she looked fabulous in it. She had left
her hair in a pony tail too, out of necessity and to
save time. She'd put on a touch of lipstick and wiped
at a dab of flour on her face as she turned away from
the mirror. All she'd done was smear the flour into a
long oblong.
"A vision of loveliness." sighed the scruffy stranger.
That caused both teens to turn and look at where he was
looking, to see their mother.
"Mom!" said Debbie. "You're barefoot!"
Ramona looked down at her bare feet as if they belonged
to someone else. She looked up blankly. "I guess I
forgot my shoes."
Mister Smith laughed. "Ah, but it is summer anyway, is
it not? And bare feet are perfect for summer."
Ramona's plan to announce their uncle had been put on
hold. Ramona, while she changed, realized that her
brother was wearing a disguise for some reason. She
couldn't imagine why, but he had, so now she didn't
know if he wanted to be identified or not. She needed a
few minutes alone with him. Her heart was fluttering as
she slipped on the dress. By the time she got to the
bottom of the stairs her heart was pounding.
"Children," she said weakly. "Would you please put the
food on the table while I have a word with Mister...
Smith."
Neither child wanted to leave the room, especially
Robby, but their mother stared at them until they left.
Standing there to make sure they didn't come right back
in, she watched the entryway for a moment and then
turned to find "Mister Smith" standing only a foot
away.
"Bobby?" she whispered. "What are you doing?"
"Rami, you're so gorgeous." he breathed. "I thought I
remembered your beauty, but I can't believe how you've
changed. You take my breath away." Then he jerked. "I
don't want anyone to know who I am right now. I'm
posing as the caretaker for the house... to get things
started before the ruckus there will be when people
find out I'm back. There have been legal claims filed
against the estate... vultures who think they can take
what is not theirs. I don't want to talk to reporters,
even if the only ones that show up are from the local
newspaper.
"The kids...." she said. "I was going to tell the kids
about you... going to let YOU tell them about you." she
said helplessly.
"I didn't think you wanted your husband to know about
me." he said thickly.
"He died Bobby" she whispered urgently. "I didn't have
the strength to find you... to tell you. I'm sorry."
she said, her mouth turning down.
He reached out to touch her arm. "It is I who am sorry.
I have neglected you and our family name in the pursuit
of a mad dream. I'm so sorry to hear of your sorrow...
your loss. But I need to remain anonymous a little
longer. Can I do that please? Would your children tell
people who I am if they knew?
"I don't know. It's going to be a shock to them. I
never told them about you Bobby. I'm so sorry. I don't
know what I was thinking. Hearing your voice now... I
feel..." She broke off, wiping an eye.
"What am I going to tell them now?" she asked
frantically. "They want to know who you are and what
you're doing!"
"Why would they care so much?" he asked, puzzled. Then
a gleam came into his eye. "Unless it is THEY who have
been using the house!"
"Using the house?" asked Ramona. "What do you mean?
What are you talking about?"
"Someone has been using the house... being there I
mean. They haven't bothered anything really, but I
found a small collection of valuables, or things that
children might think were valuable in one of the rooms.
And some clothing has been unpacked... our parents'
clothing."
"WHAT?!" came Ramona's astonished reply. "NO! It
couldn't be them. I'd know. They never go there. NO ONE
ever goes there Bobby!" she gasped.
"Well then, it is someone else. No matter, as I said
they haven't bothered anything. If anything they have
kept things in order, somewhat, and cared for things to
some degree. There has been no vandalism, as I feared
there would be."
"But what do we tell them?" she asked.
"Let me handle that." he said. "I won't stay long."
"But I wanted to see you!" she moaned. "To talk to
you."
"I'll be right next door from now on." he said. "You
can come and see me any time you like."
"I can't do that!" she said. "What if somebody saw me?"
"You work at the bank. I'll just request that they
assign you as my personal teller... to handle all my
accounts... to assist me in my mission."
"They won't do that!" said Ramona with a gasp.
"Dear Rami, my sweet" he said in natural closeness that
was somehow easy to revive, "In the years that have
gone by, the inheritance our father left us has grown
much. They'll do anything I ask to keep my account in
their little bank. Did you waste all your money?" he
asked gently.
"No, I've never touched that money." she said
breathlessly. "That money is tainted."
"Then my dear beautiful sister, you are rich beyond
your wildest dreams. And the original money is long
gone, returned to the treasury or dispensed to persons.
That money is yours. You may do with it what you wish,
but it is yours. Our father provided for us. What harm
can there be in that? Think of it as his last gasp of
love for us. He loved us, you know, he and mother
both."
Ramona's eyes misted and glazed as she recalled one of
her dimmest memories... the tall brown haired woman who
had sung to her and dressed her in frilly dresses,
taking her for walks in the sun... in the beautiful
gardens. "I remember." she whispered.
"Then let us to dinner, to answer your handsome
children's questions. They are beautiful, Rami... your
children."
"Yes" she said firmly. "They are the loves of my life."
"I used to be the love of your life... long ago." he
said softly.
"I remember that too, Bobby." she whispered again. She
wanted to hug him, to cling to him, but his appearance
was so strange and wrong that she couldn't.
"Come." he said. He held out his hand. She took it,
feeling the calluses of the work he'd done for many
years with his hands, and the strength in them too.
Debbie and Robby had tried to eavesdrop on the adults
in the other room, but could hear only murmurs of
conversation. They heard their mother exclaim
something, but couldn't hear what it was. They labored
mechanically, transferring dishes to the table, getting
the silverware their mother had absent mindedly
forgotten to put out. She had used the good dishes and
crystal glasses that they had eaten on perhaps only a
dozen times in their life.
And for this stranger?!
Chapter Four
============
Having been unable to hear what their mother and the
strange hermit-looking man talked about, curiosity
consumed the twins and they waited impatiently when the
mumbling stopped and yet, the adults still didn't
appear. Debbie craned her neck, trying to peek around
the corner without being seen. As the adults suddenly
walked into view, Debbie saw that the man was holding
her mother's hand. He dropped it and then looked
directly into Debbie's eyes.
This stranger looked... stranger and stranger.
They sat, Ramona at the head of the table, with her
children on each side of her and Mister Smith at the
other end.
As dishes of food began to be passed around, the man
spoke.
"Your mother tells me that you two are curious about
what is happening next door, at the old Nettleton
place. This is true, yes?"
His accent caused Debbie to stutter. "Y..Y..Yes." The
bowl of asparagus slipped from her fingers and thumped
on the table, but didn't spill.
Debbie blushed. "Sorry." she said.
"Well, that is a simple thing to answer." said the man,
scooping out a huge helping of Lasagna. He held the
last spoon full to his nose and drew in a great breath.
"This is smelling divine to me." he said.
Ramona scrunched up her face, somewhere between happy
and trying to tell him that the accent was too heavy.
He passed the bowl to Robby who stared at it. It was a
third empty and Smith was the only one who'd been
served. He blinked and took some, unconsciously taking
less than he usually would have.
Debbie had been waiting for Smith to go on, but he
didn't, choosing first salt, then getting three hot
rolls, and then asking for butter.
"Well?" she asked impatiently, leaning toward the man.
He looked at her through his wild hair and bushy
eyebrows and grinned with startlingly white teeth.
Debbie noticed there was a stick of some sort stuck in
the hair at the top of the man's left ear, like some
carpenters wore a pencil. The end of the stick looked
like it had been smashed, leaving tiny slivers of wood
bunched together. She stared at it and he saw where her
eyes were. His hand reached up and felt the stick.
"This is a makeshift toothbrush." he said amiably,
"Such as they use in the country I have come from." "I
have not yet had time to purchase a new one here in
your delightful town."
Debbie's mouth hung open. Who used a stick as a
toothbrush? Who went anywhere without a toothbrush? She
shook her head and frowned.
"You are having some impatience, yes?" prodded the man,
grinning.
Debbie blushed more, her face going sunburn red.
"Sorry" she mumbled again.
Smith laughed, and his voice sounded warm and nice, not
at all like he looked.
"I should not tease you." he said. "That is bad
manners." But then he took a bite of the lasagna,
getting sauce on his moustache and beard, which he
seemed completely unaware of. It was disgusting.
He smacked his lips and leaned back. "I work for the
Nettletons" he said. "It is wished for that the old
family house be restored. I am to oversee that
process."
Had he said a comet was going to smash into the earth
and kill everybody, the impact wouldn't have been any
more profound.
Debbie gulped for air and ended up hyperventilating,
getting dizzy and wobbling in her chair. Smith was out
of his chair in a flash, catching her before she fell,
while her brother and mother stared, uncomprehending.
"I need a bag." he barked, the accent suddenly much
diminished. "Something she can breathe into."
Ramona jumped from her chair like a rabbit jumps when
it's been shot, and scurried to the kitchen. She came
back with a lunch sack and handed it to him.
Debbie was flialing weakly and Robby was ineffectually
trying to get the disgusting man to stop touching his
sister, but she was almost unconscious as her lungs
spasmed.
"Hold her" he said to Ramona and he prepared the bag,
slapping the open end over her mouth and nose. "Hold
this to your face little one." he ordered.
Debbie's hands came up and pressed the bag to her face,
half crushing it, but her head cleared almost
immediately as she rebreathed air poor in oxygen.
Smith stepped back to his chair, sat down, and began
stuffing lasagna into his mouth, alternating with bread
and asparagus. He made noises of appreciation while
Debbie got control of herself and her mother hovered
over her.
"I'm fine Mom." she said, disgusted that this foul
stranger had helped her. "Go sit down and eat." Her
appetite was gone, and she sat, staring at her plate.
Smith paused, speaking with his mouth full, his words
mushy. He picked up the conversation right where it had
left off, as if nothing had happened.
"This renovation displeases you?" he asked, reaching
for tea to wash down the food.
"You can't" said Debbie in a small voice.
"DEBBIE!" came her mother's astonished voice.
"Well... HE CAN'T!" shouted Debbie. "IT'S NOT RIGHT!"
"DEBBIE JEAN FRANKLIN" said her mother in a too loud
voice. "WHERE are your manners?!"
Smith held up his hand. "There is much passion in this
beautiful almost-woman." he said, looking at her with
piercing eyes. "This is America, yes? In this land you
speak freely, is that not so?"
"Yes!" blurted Debbie. "And I say you should go back to
wherever you came from and LEAVE US ALONE!" she ended
in a shout, her face red again, this time from anger.
"Debbie, you are excused to your room." said Ramona,
her voice cold and sharp. "Freedom of speech does NOT
mean you may be disrespectful to our guest."
Debbie's eyes were stricken and she ducked her head.
Then it snapped back up, her eyes blazing. "I PREFER to
go to my room right now mother!"
She stood and stiffly turned to stalk out of the dining
room toward the stairs.
Ramona watched her go and then her eyes went to her
son, who had sat mute and stiff throughout the whole
exchange.
"Would you like to tell me what's going on here?" she
asked in a voice that made it clear she expected to be
told what was going on.
Robby didn't know what to do or say. He couldn't just
admit that they'd played in the mansion for years, that
they felt ownership of the dilapidated place. That
would lead to consequences that couldn't possibly be
happy.
"It's haunted." he blurted. "The ghosts will be
unhappy. They might do things." he suggested vaguely.
Ramona, whose own spirit had been dampened many times
by thoughts of that old house and the pain it had seen,
but who had never thought even once that she might be
"haunted" by an unhappy ghost, laughed, her voice at
the edge of panic. Then her giggle box fell over with a
silent thump and uncontrollable giggles gushed out of
Ramona's mouth until she was gasping for breath, almost
like her daughter had been. She tried to take a drink
of tea and choked on it. Now she was trying to laugh
and cough at the same time. Twin dribbles of tea
dripped from her nostrils.
Again Smith was on his feet and pounding her back
lightly, helpless to do anything else.
Robby just stared.
All the tension Ramona had felt building, and only
partially released by her earlier crying session in the
car, flooded out with her laughs. It was a catharsis
she needed badly and, even though she was afraid she'd
fall out of her chair she was ecstatic at the feel of
all that unwanted tightness flowing out of her body.
Then she thought of what she'd look like falling over,
lying on the floor, tea running out of her nose, and
she laughed even harder. Her brother... her dear sweet
brother was there. He was going to be here next door
for a long time... maybe forever... and that thought
made her feel even better. She drew in a racking deep
breath and finally got control of her diaphragm. Now
all she had to do was pull in more air and she'd be
fine.
Smith stood up, staring down at the woman. "All the
women in this family have these breathing problems,
yes?"
That made Ramona laugh too, but this time it was a
short, normal laugh. She wiped her eyes and cheeks with
her palms and, then grabbed the napkin to rub under her
nose. With her cleared vision saw that Debbie had
returned to the bottom of the stairs and was staring
curiously at the scene in the dining room.
Ramona pointed at her. "YOU!" she said. "If you've
found your manners you may return to the table." Then,
a few more giggles chuckled out of her mouth.
Debbie turned and went back up the stairs.
Ramona felt sad at that, but waved mister Smith back to
his chair.
"Ghosts." she said, and giggled again.
"I'm thinking there are no ghosts." said Smith,
beginning to eat again.
Robby, flushed with shame and anger at his mother's
laughter, just sat. His appetite was gone too.
"Lots of people think there are ghosts." said Robby
sullenly.
His mother heard the anger in his voice, and she
calmed. "Robby, I wasn't laughing at you. Not really. I
think I was just laughing because I needed to laugh. I
don't think you’re silly or anything like that." she
said. "But I also don't believe in ghosts."
Robby, his heart sinking, knew beyond his years that
nothing he could say would undo what was going on.
"I'm not really hungry." he said. "Can I go?"
Ramona's first instinct was to say "No.", but she heard
the sadness in his voice and nodded instead. He got up
and walked heavily to the stairs.
When his footfalls were gone, Robert Nettleton, looking
ridiculous in his sauce smeared false moustache and
beard, looked helplessly at his sister.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
"I don't know." she answered truthfully. "They
shouldn't care so much about what happens over there.
Nobody else does. I don't understand it." she said.
"Are you sure they don't know?" he asked. "About who
you really are I mean?"
"Bobby, I've never told them anything. Just that our
parents were gone. I avoided talking about it, not
wanting them to be affected by... our past."
There was more meaning in her voice than that
associated with the house and grounds of the Nettleton
Mansion. Robert wanted to tell her about their mother's
jewelry box, that he'd found in the wrong room of the
mansion, with things in it that had been put there by
someone other than their mother, including a watch that
had to have been their father's. He was distracted by
the pain in her voice. It reminded him of his own pain.
"I missed you so much." said Robert.
"I wanted to die at first." said Ramona. "But then I
met Richard and it wasn't so bad. And then when the
twins were born I was happy Bobby... really happy."
She looked at the strange apparition at her table and
then looked away. As long as all she did was hear his
voice she had a picture of 18 year old Bobby Nettleton
in her mind.
"Didn't you ever find a girl? To love?" she asked.
"Oh, there were girls, I suppose, but none to claim my
heart." he said. "My work was such that there was no
time or place for romance anyway."
"That's so sad." said Ramona, her heart going out to
him.
"I'm young." he said. "And I'm rich. I won't be alone
for long. Not in the good old U.S. of A."
"I'll have a talk with the kids." said Ramona. "I'll
try to find out what's really going on." She stole a
peek at him. "I'm glad you're back Bobby. I missed you
too."
He grinned. "Come over and see me sometime. Bring some
more of this delicious food. I won't have electricity
for two more weeks, and then I can get some appliances
in there and begin cooking for myself. Man, I've missed
food like this."
"When do you think you'll go... public?" she asked.
"There are six liens filed against the place, from
contractors who SAY they have been doing upkeep. That's
preposterous and I don't want them to know they're
dealing with me. All they are doing is grubbing for
money. More will probably come out as soon as the word
gets out that I'm back. I have several court
appearances to make as Mister Smith and then I should
be able to throw away this horrible hair.
Ramona giggled. "It IS horrible. Couldn't you have
gotten something nicer?"
"I thought it gave me a colorful appearance." he said,
wounded.
"Yes, but the color is so... " she was searching for
the right word.
He finished the sentence for her. "Crazy?"
She blushed. "I didn't say that. YOU said that."
"Well, I won't wear it when you come to call." He dug
in the pocket of the coat he was still wearing and
handed her a shiny brass key. "This goes to the padlock
on the gate. I oiled the hinges and it now works
flawlessly. I don't lock the house. Haven't gotten
around to finding the right locksmith. The ghosts will
keep everybody else away." he said grinning.
"What will I tell the kids?" she asked, a flutter in
her stomach at the idea of going back to the house
she'd stayed away from for so long.
"Bring them along." he said. "I have an idea the
disguise idea was a bad one... at least with them. Who
knows? I probably didn't need a disguise at all. Who
around here would recognize me anyway? I think I only
used it because it was such an exotic idea."
He stood up. "Now, I'd better go. You have two unruly
children to deal with. If they give you too much
trouble come get me and I'll come back and scare them
half to death." He grinned again.
"I'd kiss you goodbye, but I'm not going near that mess
you have on your face. I hope you have water over
there." said Ramona.
"Water I have in plenty. The old well is still good and
the pump worked fine once I replaced the leather
gasket. It's cold, but I can always warm up some for a
whore's bath on the wood stove. As for the kiss... I'll
save it for you..."
Ramona blushed. "That was a long time ago Bobby." she
said.
"I know." he said back. "I really missed you Rami."
Then he went to the door and let himself out with a
wave over his shoulder. Ramona stood and just tried to
decide how she felt.
It took quite a while, as she turned the shiny brass
key over and over in her fingers. Finally she went
upstairs to talk to her children.
She found them together. They were in Robby's room.
Robby was lying on the bed, while Debbie paced back and
forth. She stopped when Ramona stepped into the room.
Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks tear-stained.
"Why is that old place so important to you two?" asked
their mother.
Debbie slumped. Like Robby, she just couldn't confess
to what they'd done for so many years. It was their
secret. It wasn't their sexual play that was uppermost
in Debbie's mind. It was the length of time the secret
had been kept from her mother. She knew her mother
would be hurt by the truth.
As they say, the best defense is a good offense.
"Mom" said Debbie, her voice under control now. "You
treated that... man... like he was somebody special.
You fixed your best dinner. We used our best dishes.
You were excited, Mom. But when he got here you acted
like you'd never seen him in your life. Who is he?"
Now it was Ramona who had a fifteen year secret she'd
kept from the two people she loved most in the world.
And she had no idea how to tell them about that secret,
and all the other secrets she had kept for their entire
lives... even beyond their entire lives.
"He's somebody I knew a long time ago." she sighed. "He
looked differently than I expected him to and it
surprised me. He was very important to me back then.
That's all I can tell you about him. I want to tell you
more... but I can't. Not yet. In a few weeks, maybe."
Her voice was defeated. She knew her children would not
stand for that answer. "It's very complicated."
"How could you have known him long ago? It's obvious
he's from some foreign country. I don't understand."
Debbie's voice was defeated too.
"Mom?" came Robby's voice.
"Yes sweetheart." she said back.
"Do you trust us?"
That surprised Ramona. "Of course I trust you. I love
you." she said.
"OK, we trust you and love you too." he said. "How
about this? How about you trust us when we tell you we
really care about that house. We can't explain why, but
it's true. And we'll trust you when you tell us that
you know that man, and that he's not a bad man. He's
not, right?"
Ramona smiled tiredly. "No, he's not bad. He's a very
good man."
"He scares me." said Debbie.
"He would never hurt you for anything in the world."
said her mother.
"OK, if you say so, but he's still scary. That hair...
the way he eats. He eats like he's starving, or has
never had good food in his life. It's just weird."
Debbie went and sat on the edge of the bed, by her
brother.
"He said he's going to restore the house. What does
that mean exactly?" asked Robby.
"There used to be beautiful gardens all around it."
said Ramona, her voice going soft as she remembered.
"And the house was painted and the tower roof was
covered in shining copper shingles. And there were
beautiful rugs and servants and music. It was a
beautiful place then." she said.
"How do you know that?" asked Debbie, her imagination
fired by the description.
Ramona jerked, coming back to the present. Her words
had been dangerous. "I... ahh... talked with Mister
Smith about it. Back then he lived there." She folded
her arms. "I think Robby's idea is good. I'll trust you
two, and you trust me. In a few weeks there may be
enough changes that your questions will be able to be
answered. Maybe mine too. OK?"
There was a duet of sighed "OK"s from the bed.
"Now, let's all go down and clean up together. I'm too
tired to do it all by myself. For calling it such a
special meal you two sure didn't eat much of it. I
could warm some up if you want..."
As if on cue, Debbie's stomach growled and she giggled.
The rest of the evening was spent much more happily
than before as they all put the old house out of their
minds and were just a family.
The next day, though, after their mother had gone to
work, Debbie charged into her brother's room, where he
was still sleeping. She jumped on top of him, tickling
him mercilessly.
"Wake up lazy bones!" she squealed. "Let's go see what
that horrible old man is doing to our house!"
Robby tried to defend himself by grabbing his sister's
breasts and squeezing them. It didn't work. All she did
was lean into his hands.
"Mmmm that feels nice. I should have let you touch me a
long time ago."
"I don't recall asking to touch you." he said, moving
his hands in opposite directions and then back again,
making her braless breasts bounce sideways. They were
too firm to hit each other though.
She sat up and pushed his hands away. "So, come on,
let's go!" she said excitedly.
"You're crazy." he said, his hands moving to her
thighs. She was astride him like she was riding a
horse. "We can't go over there any more. That man would
probably chop us up and cook us on a campfire."
"No he wouldn't. You heard Mommy. She said he'd never
ever hurt us, not for anything."
"That doesn't mean he'd be happy to see us. Besides,
what are we going to do, just walk up to the place and
say "Hi, we just thought we'd drop by. Seeing as how we
yelled and screamed at you last night we thought we'd
be all friendly today.""
Debbie put her hands on top of his hands, which were on
top of her thighs. She stroked the back of his hands
with her fingertips.
"No, silly. We're going to spy. From the secret
passage. Through the peep holes. I just want to keep an
eye on him and see what he's doing. Besides, if our
stash is still there maybe we can get it while he's in
some other part of the house. Don't you want your
watch?"
"Didn't mom say he used to live there?" asked Robby.
"Maybe he knows all about the secret passages."
"Of course not." said Debbie firmly. "That's why
they're called secret passages, because they're secret.
Those were made when the house was new, and there's no
way mister Smith could have lived there more than
what... twenty or thirty years ago maybe? He's not old
enough to have lived there before that. And he'd have
had to be a little boy too if he lived there back
then." She stopped and thought for a moment. "You know
what? I bet he and mom went to school together or
something like that. And they played together, or he
was her boyfriend, like when they were in forth or
fifth grade or something. And he lived in the house and
Mom lived wherever she lived... where DID mom grow up?"
Debbie was getting animated by her imaginary
assumptions.
"I don't know." said Robby. "But I'd rather stay here
and play naughty with you. Maybe they played naughty
when they were little." said Robby, his hands sliding
up Debbie's thighs and onto her waist, moving ever
upward toward her breasts again.
"Robby!" Debbie was scandalized. "That's our MOTHER
you're talking about." She screwed up her face.
"Ewwwww, can you imagine mom with that... man?!"
She jumped up, eliciting a grunt from Robby as her firm
hard butt bounced on his stomach.
"Come on, get up, let's go!" she demanded.
Robby got up and unabashedly stripped off his PJ
bottoms, showing his morning woody to his sister while
he pulled on a pair of shorts. She stared intently at
it, but didn't move to touch him.
"Maybe we'll play naughty later." she said, and then
danced out of his reach toward the door, teasing him.
She pulled her T shirt up, showing him her naked
breasts and backed out the door.
"Come on baby, you want these? Come on, just follow
little Debbie and maybe she'll let you play with them."
She had to turn and run to avoid being caught and
laughed as she ran out through the back door and into
the yard.
Though she had run outside, Debbie didn't head for the
fence to the Nettleton Mansion. Instead she ran around
the house a couple of times, staying just ahead of her
brother, teasing him. She ran like the wind and loved
that he couldn't quite catch her. When he finally
slowed down, panting for breath, she slowed down too,
still walking, until they got to the back of the house,
where no one in the neighborhood could see them.
Then she let him catch her. She tried to kiss him, as
consolation for besting him in the race, but both were
breathing too hard for it to really work. They waited
until they were sure their mother wasn't coming back
home because she forgot something. Then they walked to
the fence where their "private entrance" was and
slipped through.
As they penetrated the dense forest, they began to hear
noises that were foreign to ears tuned to the normal
silence of their fantasy play place. Instead of going
to the root cellar, which meant they'd be exposed for
the few seconds it would take to get to the entrance
and down the stairs, they stayed to the woods and did a
circuit of the house to see what was going on outside.
They were astonished.
There were trucks and vans everywhere, parked all over
what had, at one time been lawns and gardens. One had a
sign on the side that indicated it was from a plumbing
company. Another one was an electrical contractor.
There were two from the local garden center, and they
had a tractor with a bucket on the front that they were
using to clear swaths of weeds and bushes away from
around the house. There was a truck with no sign, but
two men who wore white coveralls spattered with paint,
suggesting they were painters. Another truck was from a
roofing company. There was a tractor looking thing that
had a long arm on the back, with a scoop on the end,
and it was digging a long trench from the house toward
the street. They winced as they realized if it kept
going more of their cherished forest would be
destroyed.
There were ladders up against the house in several
places, and men on them, taking things off the house
and others putting things on the house. The whole place
looked different already, though most of that was just
because of activity, and not substantive changes to the
appearance of the house itself.
Still, it was obvious that the appearance would change.
Already the house looked like it stood straighter,
without the sag it had always seemed to have, like it
was coming awake after a long slumber.
As they watched a truck left, and another one came. It
was met by mister Smith, still wearing his long black
trench coat, his beard and hair only a little less
tangled. Debbie thought she'd see old crusted lasagna
sauce in that beard if she were close enough. She
shuddered.
Smith was flitting from one place to another, talking
to this man, or that, pointing and gesticulating. The
tractors made too much noise for them to hear what he
was saying, but it was obvious he was issuing
directions to the contractors.
The great double front doors stood wide open, letting
sunlight into the foyer, which had not seen such light
in decades. Two men were climbing twin ladders, set
only a few feet apart, and were carrying something
square between them, up the ladder. Whatever it was it
sparkled and glistened in the sun, in vivid colors of
red, green, blue and a golden color that could only be
called yellow by a blind person.
"It's stained glass!" whispered Robby, close to his
sister. The men stopped at an open hole in the side of
the house, where a window had been removed. Carefully
they fitted the new window into the hole and did
something to make it stay.
Another truck arrived, a larger one, with a flat bed
heaped with all kinds of things. There was copper
piping, and boxes marked as containing toilets and
sinks. There were coils of black that looked like wire
of some kind. Men got out and began carrying things
into the house.
Yet another van arrived, this one marked as the
delivery service for a dry cleaning establishment. Two
people got out of it with folded boxes and went into
the house.
Robby noticed that Debbie was panting, as if she'd run.
He moved and saw tears running down her cheeks,
dripping to the forest floor.
He reached out to touch her arm and she turned her tear
streaked face to him.
"They're changing everything." she sobbed, melting into
his arms. "I HATE HIM!" she screamed.
Robby hushed her, but there was really no chance her
cry had been overheard. He hugged her to him as she
sobbed. Finally he let her go and took her hand.
"Come on." he said. "There's nothing we can do here."
He was just about to lead her back home, when a car
drove into the chaos of vehicles littering the yard.
They stared at the car.
It was their car.
Their mother was driving.
Crouching down in the bushes they watched as Ramona got
out and stood, in the open door, staring at all the
other vehicles, and at the house. She didn't move for a
long time. Then, reaching into the car and removing a
leather briefcase, she took a few tentative steps
toward the house.
"Maybe she's got something in there to make them stop."
whispered Robby.
That hope was dented a little when SMITH saw their
mother and hurried over to her. He started to embrace
her, plain as day, but then dropped his arms and stood
back, looking over his shoulder at the contractors
scattered around the grounds. He took her elbow and led
her into the house.
"What's she doing here?" asked Debbie, puzzled.
"I don't know." said Robby, puzzled himself.
"We've got to get in there!" said Debbie, standing up.
"We can't get past all those people!" said Robby.
"The secret way, you Dodo." she said, looking at him
like he was daft.
"I don't know Deb." he said uncertainly. "What if we
make a noise or something? They could hear us and then
what would we do?"
"There's no way they could hear us with all that noise
going on." said Debbie. "You're CHICKEN! Aren't you!"
As anyone knows, that's probably the best way to get a
fifteen year old boy to do just about anything he
probably shouldn't do, and it worked just like it would
have on any other fifteen year old boy.
Debbie had to run to catch up to her brother, who was
stomping through the woods in an arc that would bring
them to the back of the root cellar.
"Be careful." warned Debbie, afraid she'd made him so
mad that he might do something stupid.
"What's the matter? he growled. "You turning CHICKEN?"
"I'm sorry Robby... come on... you want to know what
she's doing in there don't you?"
He stopped and turned as she almost ran into him. "If
we get caught, I AM going to spank you. I PROMISE!"
Then he turned and went on.
They waited briefly in the bushes, watching the back of
the house, but there was only one man on a ladder
there, and all his attention seemed to be on where some
boards had been removed on the side of the house.
They made the dash to the steps and skipped steps
getting down into the cellar. Without waiting to see if
anyone raised the alarm, Robby jerked open the secret
door and they ducked into the tunnel. Again, they had
forgotten to bring a candle, but again, they both knew
the tunnel so well they could negotiate it in the pitch
black with no problem. Still, Robby went first, while
Debbie held on to his waist.
Robby pulled gently at the door. They had used it so
much that it opened easily now, though the hinges
squeaked. They had never thought to oil them, since
whenever they were there they were alone.
There was a little light in the secret passage, coming
in from the peep holes. While it would have seemed dark
to most people, after the pitch black of the tunnel it
was a little like being outside in starlight to the
teens.
There were thumps that seemed to come from nowhere and
everywhere at once as they stepped gently up the
staircase. They saw nothing at the first peepholes, and
then a painter at the third. Going on up a level, where
the bedrooms were, they went to the peephole that led
into "their" bedroom. The room was empty. Their box of
treasure was still sitting where they had left it
before.
They struck pay dirt at the big bedroom, with the four
poster bed.
The teens peered silently into the big bedroom where
they had played dress up so many times.
Smith and their mother were in that room, along with
one of the people who had gotten out of the Dry
Cleaner's van. Ramona was standing along one wall while
Smith instructed the man on what to pack into the box.
The hangings from the four poster went into one, and
the curtains from the windows went into another.
"And everything in those chests." he pointed to the
cedar chests where the clothing Robby and Debbie had
worn for years was packed. "But you can get those
another day. Do you think these can be repaired and
cleaned?" he said lifting up a drooping corner of cloth
from inside one of the boxes.
"They're pretty old, but I'd say they're in fair shape.
I have to tell you though, Mister Smith, this is going
to be expensive. We'll have to re-weave a lot of the
holes, and finding fabric - genuine period fabric -
will be expensive too. It would be cheaper to just have
new ones made."
"No!" barked Smith. "Only if something is too
deteriorated to save. I want to save as much as
possible. Expense is not an issue."
"Well, it's your money..." said the man, packing up the
boxes. The other man came in and helped him carry the
boxes out.
Debbie and Robby had to trade off using the peep hole.
They whispered to each other as to what they were
seeing. The voices were faint, through the wall, but
there was only lath and plaster between them and the
people in the room, and they could hear through that
fairly well.
Debbie watched as Smith looked out of the bedroom door
and then closed it. She heard the thunk of a latch
being thrown.
"I told you they'd assign you to me if I wanted them
to." he said to their mother.
"It was amazing!" said Ramona. "I got called into the
president of the bank's office and he instructed me
that I was to do anything you wanted me to."
Smith stood, looking at their mother. "Anything?" he
leered.
"Bobby," said Ramona, "I'm here on business."
Bobby? thought Debbie. His name was Bobby?
"All work and no play makes... Bobby a dull boy." he
grinned.
"Do you have to keep that horrible thing on your face
all the time?" asked Debbie's mother.
"Not when we're alone." said the man, and, to Debbie's
astonishment he reached up and pulled off his hair.
Debbie gasped and stepped back and ran into the wall on
the opposite side of the secret passageway with a
thump.
Robby was at the peephole instantly, just in time to
see the man throw a black, hairy mass on the bare
mattress of the big bed. There was smooth brown hair on
his head. Then he pulled at his beard and Robby saw
sticky strings of something that had glued it to his
face pull away. He tossed that on the bed too and
stood, looking at Ramona.
"Is that better?" he asked.
Ramona was staring at the man, the briefcase hanging
from her hand.
"You look so different." she said softly.
"It's been a long time Rami." he said.
"You're so handsome." she said.
"Not as handsome as you are beautiful." said the man
who called himself Smith. He stepped toward Bobby's
mother. "I missed you so much Rami."
Then, to Robby's astonishment, she rushed into the
man's arms, into a kiss that was obviously voluntary
and as heartfelt as when Robby kissed his sister.
Now it was Robby who staggered away from the peephole,
running into his sister's soft body. She held his waist
with her hands to stabilize them both.
"What's going on?" she whispered.
"He kissed her." gasped Robby.
"WHAT?!" said Debbie, her voice like a shout in the
confines of the narrow hallway.
"Shhhh" said Robby instinctively. "She kissed HIM." he
corrected himself.
Debbie shoved him to one side and pressed her face to
the holes.
"They kissed each other." whispered Robby.
That kiss was still going on as Debbie's eyes focused
on the adults. That, and a whole lot more. The now
brown-haired and clean shaven man - the same man she
had seen before when she peeked the last time - had his
hand cupping her mother's breast, and Ramona's arms
were wrapped around his neck.
Ramona pushed him away. "We can't Bobby." she said. She
didn't make him remove his hand, which stayed right
where it had been, lifting the breast, and squeezing
it.
Debbie's mouth was hanging open. Robby tried to move
her but she pushed at him with one hand.
"Is there a man in your life sweet Rami?" asked the
man.
"Of course not." said Ramona. "But there are all kinds
of people around."
"I locked the door." he said.
"The drapes are gone from the windows." said Ramona.
Debbie couldn't quite get her mind wrapped around the
conversation. It almost sounded like they were talking
about... sex. But that couldn't be!
"No one is working on that side of the house. I'm on
fire for you Rami."
Debbie bit her lip. This man called her mother by a pet
name. Rami was obviously short for Ramona. Who WAS he?
Why had he come to their house wearing a fake beard and
moustache.
"You left me." said her mother, her voice accusing. She
looked at the briefcase in her hand as if she'd
forgotten it and set it down. Debbie's unbelieving eyes
saw her mother's fingers go to the buttons of her white
blouse and begin unbuttoning them.
"I had to, my sweet." said the man. "I thought I could
save the world. Only that could have taken me away from
you."
Ramona unbuttoned her blouse, as if she were alone in
her own bedroom.
"I cried for you Bobby." said Ramona, pulling the
blouse apart and out of the waistband of her skirt. She
bared her lacy white bra to this stranger.
Debbie stepped back again, her hand covering her mouth.
What her mother was doing made no sense of any kind...
in any way. It was like watching a dream, that couldn't
be true, but that you were having anyway, and you
couldn't make it stop.
Debbie's place was immediately taken by Robby. He
gasped and his two hands went to the wall, making a
small sound. He saw his mother turn and look directly
at him.
"What was that?" she asked.
Robby stared at her flat naked stomach, and the bulging
bra cups, with their deep cleavage showing milky white
skin. The man was staring at his mother's breasts too.
"This house makes many noises." said the man. "Seeing
you again makes me want to make a little noise too."
Robby watched, his brow furrowing, as his mother
laughed.
"I haven't had a man in a long long time Bobby." she
said, removing her blouse and folding it neatly. She
bent over and placed it on top of the briefcase. Then,
as if it were the most normal thing for his mother to
do in the whole world, she unclipped and unzipped her
skirt and bent over, stepping out of it. It joined her
blouse as she stood before the man in only panties and
bra.
"Oh sweet baby, I've waited so long too." the man said,
tearing at his clothes.
Robby watched in stark disbelief as his mother reached
behind her and the bra fell down her arms to reveal her
soft breasts. She had brown nipples Robby had never
seen, or could never remember seeing. They were much
bigger than Debbie's pink ones, thick, and they looked
firm, sticking out from her slightly sagging breasts.
For some crazy reason Robby found himself noticing that
those nipples didn’t' point straight ahead, like
Debbie’s did. Instead like eyes with something wrong
with them, they looked in slightly different
directions.
Robby's eyes went to the man, who had somehow become
naked, his penis standing straight out from a fluff of
brown hair that was as wild as the man's wig had been.
That penis looked long, but bent. The man was uncut,
like Robby himself, but he was so hard that the glans
of his penis pressed forward, like it was trying to
escape being confined by his foreskin.
"Shit" said Robby under his breath.
"What's happening now?" came Debbie's plaintive soft
cry.
"They're naked." he whispered.
Debbie shoved him sideways, and he pushed off the wall
to keep from snagging on one of the upright boards that
the lath was nailed to.
"Hey!" he whispered loudly.
"I want to SEE!" she whispered back, pressing her face
to the wall.
Technically, "they" weren't naked yet, since Ramona
still had on her panties. But Debbie's eyes were drawn
to that long fleshy lance that was pointing at her
mother. The only other one she'd ever seen was Robby's,
and they looked the same and vastly different at the
same time. Her eyes flicked to her mother, whose
clothes seemed to have magically vanished since Debbie
last saw her. Debbie sucked in a breath as her mother
bent over and slipped her panties off. She stood up,
holding them hanging off of her index finger, and let
them fall lightly on top of her folded clothes like she
had practiced doing that for years.
"You're so beautiful." said the man, stepping toward
her mother.
"It's been so long." replied her mother.
Then they embraced, and that long thick penis slid
naturally between her mother's legs as the couple
kissed what was obviously a kiss in the French way. Her
mother leaned forward into the man's body, her hands
pulling him against her. Debbie was numb from the shock
of what she was seeing. Children never see their
parents as sexual beings, particularly not with
complete strangers who are somehow vastly too familiar
to be strangers. It almost made her head hurt.
Still, the curious girl inside her body wanted to see
what would happen next. That part of her mind held her
steady, her eyes staring through the peep holes, while
another part of her brain railed that this was wrong,
that she must do something to stop what was happening,
that the man was not only destroying her house, but he
was destroying her mother at the same time.
If Ramona was being destroyed, she didn't appear to
mind much. She broke the kiss and stepped past Smith,
pulling his hand, leading him to the bed. The mattress
that had been sagging against the wall when Debbie was
last here, was now back on the bed.
"I'm sopping wet for you." said Ramona.
Debbie gasped.
She saw her mother lie down on the bare mattress,
uncaring that there were no sheets on it... that it was
dusty... and assume what could only be called a pose of
invitation, her legs spread wide, and her arms
outstretched.
Smith sank down on her mother and Debbie saw her own
mother's hand grasp his manly gristle and bring it to
her pussy lips. She watched in horror as that tip of
that hard thing penetrated her mother's sex and began
to slide into her body.
Debbie stepped back a third time, her hands coming up
to cover her eyes, as Robby crowded in front of her to
look. He gasped too, because what he saw was the
opposite. He saw the man on top of his mother, at full
penetration, drawing slowly out until his penis left
her, a string of white connecting them, before lowering
his penis almost tenderly to kiss and then penetrate
his mother's nether lips again.
There was a duet of moans, clearly heard in the secret
passageway, of two people enjoying themselves to the
utmost.
Then, before Robby's unbelieving eyes, Smith fucked his
mother. There was no other word for what they did.
Smith lunged and thrust hard, his buttocks clenching
hard with each thrust, and Ramona's body shook, as if
with punishment. Robby believed it was rape at first,
and was ashamed that he was rigid in his own pants, and
unable to break down the wall to save his mother.
But her hands came to Smith's back and caressed it,
sliding to his buttocks and, as they clenched for
another assault on his mother's pussy, her hands
pulled, digging her fingernails into his ass, clearly
encouraging the man to plunder her sex.
Now there were grunts from the man and little yips and
squeals and soft wails from their mother, sounds that
made heat bloom in Debbie's loins, despite her attempts
to crush those feelings. And they made Robby's prick
jerk in his pants and begin to leak. They were the
sounds of real, live, honest-to-goodness sexual
intercourse taking place between two people who were
having a wonderful time engaging in that intercourse.
Decades later, there would be a popular slogan aimed at
convincing kids not to take drugs, and not to have sex.
It would be called "Just say no!"
Now, in this time, the sounds the teens could hear
their mother and this stranger making very clearly said
"Just say YES!"
Debbie leaned weakly against the wall behind her
brother. She couldn't watch any more. The sounds were
more than enough to make her feel helpless. She tugged
at Robby, but now he brushed her away, staring at the
tableau before him. Smith was wild now, his buttocks
rising and falling at an astonishing rate as Ramona
wrapped her legs around him.
"For you my sweet!" the man roared and he drove in one
last time and stopped suddenly. His balls went from
flopping all over the place to hanging straight down in
that way that only happens when it's very hot. Then
those balls jumped three times in a row... not much,
but enough to be noticeable... and the man gave a long
groan of almost despair. Then he pulled out and began
to slide in and out of his lover again, slowly, as she
took up the groan that got louder and higher in pitch
until it was a whine that sounded like she was in awful
pain.
Robby stared as he saw a ring of thick white build up
around the man's penis where it went into his mother.
The man had ejaculated in her.
Ramona's whine of release ended in a gasped "I love you
so much Bobby." as the man collapsed on top of her and
they were still, except for Ramona's hands, which
slowly and gently slid all over Smith's back.
"I missed you so much, Rami." came Smith's muffled
voice.
"Please don't leave me again." came the voice that
Robby's ears told him was his mother's voice, but which
he couldn't put with her face. It was just too unreal.
As Robby pulled his eyes away from the holes, Smith
said "I'll never leave you again, my darling."
=======================================================
=========
How the two teenagers got back to the root cellar they
could not have told you. One moment it seemed as if
they were in the dusty secret corridor between rooms,
and the next they were standing at the bottom of the
stairs that led up and out of the root cellar into the
sunshine.
Brother and sister blinked, looking up into the bright
light. Their emotions were in a turmoil, something they
should have been used to, perhaps, by now, but they
were unable to fully process what they'd witnessed.
As they squinted at the bright light outside, both had
an unconscious desire to stay in the root cellar, where
it was safe... where they had hidden from imagined
perils in the past, and now wanted to hide from
something that seemed so strange that it felt...
dangerous. They had lived with their mother for their
entire lives, but the woman they had seen through the
peep hole acted nothing like the mother they knew.
Their mother obviously knew the man from the past some
time... some place. That much they knew. But the fact
that he wore a disguise derailed their thinking. Why
would he do that? Their mother had been expecting the
brown haired man for dinner. HE was the special guest.
And the disguise had thrown HER too.
"What should we do?" whined Debbie, her voice small.
She felt small in a huge strange world right now, like
a small mouse who didn't want to expose herself to the
hawk she knew was drifting on the wind somewhere up in
that bright sky outside.
"My penis is hard." said Robby. He felt the need to say
something, but couldn't think of anything else.
"What!?" asked his sister, turning to look at him.
"I got hard watching them." he said, his eyes wide.
"Having sex." he added unnecessarily.
Debbie put her hand on the front of her brother's
shorts. There was a big hard lump there.
He jumped as he felt her hand on his erection. "What
are you doing?" he asked.
"I don't know." she said.
They were both so confused that even something
relatively normal for them seemed odd somehow. she took
her hand away.
"What should we do?" she asked again.
"Go home?" suggested Robby. "I don't know what to do."
"Why would mom do that with... him?" asked Debbie.
"I don't KNOW." grumped Robby. "She acted like she
loved him."
"How could she love him? Where did he come from?"
"I don't know that either." sighed Robby, remembering
the way his mother had touched the man... gently...
lovingly... welcoming him into that intimate embrace.
"But she DOES love him." he convinced himself. He just
couldn't understand her actions unless they were based
on love."
"Maybe we could talk to her." said Debbie uncertainly.
"How are we supposed to do that?" scoffed Robby. "What
do we do? Do we just say - Hey Mom, we happened to see
you boffing the fuck out of that strange guy who showed
up at dinner, and we were just sort of wondering why in
the FUCK you would do THAT?"
"Don't curse Robby" scolded Debbie automatically. "It's
vulgar."
"Let me get this straight." said Robby, turning to her
full on. "You're upset because I said the word, and
meanwhile our mother is in there DOING the word!"
"Well don't yell at ME." she said, getting even more
upset. "I'm not the one in there on my back with my
legs spread!"
That image shocked Robby so much that his mouth opened
and closed several times, like a goldfish in a bowl.
"Let's not fight... please" she pleaded. There were
tears in her eyes, glistening in a shaft of light
coming from above.
Robby hugged his sister and she melted against him.
Once again, their passion for each other insulated them
from the strange and troubling thing they'd just seen.
They felt safe holding each other... a sense of
normalcy. That passion flared in each of them and the
hug turned into a kiss as they fed on each other's
emotion.
Debbie pushed him away. "Let's go home. Mom went there
on bank business. She'll have to go back to the bank.
She won't be home until tonight."
Chapter Five
============
Debbie's unspoken promise about what they'd do when
they got home spurred Robby and he climbed the steps,
carefully peeking outside. When he didn't see anything
he reached for her hand and they bolted up and out of
their haven. Seconds later they were in the woods and
running, hand in hand, for the fence. They slipped
through the fence as if their bodies were greased and
dashed for the back door. Not stopping they pounded up
the stairs to Debbie's room, which was the first
bedroom they came to. They had unconsciously
transferred their feeling of safe haven from the room
they could no longer play in, to the next best thing...
her bedroom, the only other place she felt like she
owned.
Then it was more long tongue swapping kisses as they
fumbled to undress each other. Their routine led them
to being naked together, on her bed, her hand firmly
grasping his prick as she stroked him. His fingers
strummed her clitty and she writhed beside him. She
bucked her hips, and one of his fingers slipped between
her plump pussy lips to dip into her. On instinct he
let his finger go further until she moaned.
"That hurts." she moaned, but kissed him even more
vigorously.
Robby remembered how that the man had sucked at his
mother's nipples, and he ducked his head to fasten his
lips around his sister's pink one. She squealed and
bucked her hips again. His finger felt resistance, but
he pushed anyway.
"AHHHHOOOOWWWW" she cried and went rigid, rolling away
a little, pulling her nipple out of his mouth with a
"plop".
Robby knew he had hurt her, and he immediately pulled
the finger out of her. He looked at it and it was
stained a dark pink. She was bleeding!
"Oh baby I'm so sorry." he cried.
She hushed him, kissing him more now that the pain was
gone. "It's OK" she said. "I think you ruptured my
hymen. But I don't care. Kiss me Robby... rub me. I'm
so close."
She had never let go of his stiff cock, and she still
stroked it. He went back to rubbing her bump in little
circles, but took care not to hurt her again. She made
happy noises and went stiff again as she came. Robby
felt his semen begin it's short journey. Because he had
rolled apart from her when he hurt her, her hand was
pulling on him as she stroked, and his penis was aimed
at where his hand still stimulated her.
His sperm rocketed out and splashed on his fingers.
That made her even more slippery and he rubbed his
spunk into her clitty, speeding his fingers back and
forth as her cum was extended by a follow on orgasm.
The rest of his spend painted his hand and her mons,
making her pubic hair a mess of slippery white. Debbie
let go of his rod and rolled away from him, splaying
her legs wide, and his fingers slipped down to rub her
pussy lips, one finger sliding between her swollen
petals. He rubbed more slowly now... just stroking her,
knowing her clit would be too sensitive to stimulate
directly. He stared at her, drinking the beauty of her
nakedness as her breasts rose and fell rapidly.
Her head rolled toward him as he lay on his side, and
she looked at him through her lashes. Then she
convulsively rolled back toward him and she clutched
him to her.
They traded soft words of love, intermingled with more
sweet soft lipped kisses.
Finally Debbie rolled to her back, relaxed. "Is this
what they felt like?" she asked.
"Maybe." said her brother.
"I don't understand any of this." she sighed. "But if
they were doing this... feeling like this... it just
can't be bad."
"Yeah." said Robby, surprised that he agreed with her a
hundred percent.
"We have to find a way to figure out what's going on."
said Debbie more firmly.
"Yeah." said Robby again, still in agreement with his
sister.
They got up and cleaned up, and washed the bedspread,
which had a large wet spot on it. Then they made some
sandwiches and had a bottle of RC Cola each. It was
while they were finishing that, sitting at the table,
that Debbie looked at her brother with calculating
eyes.
"I want to do it again." she said.
Robby didn't have to be told what she wanted to do.
Just her statement, and the look on her face, had him
ready in seconds. He stood up, letting his bulge talk
for him.
This time Debbie got a towel from the bathroom and
spread it out where their hips would be. She didn't
have to explain that either. Silently they stripped,
watching each other. Debbie lay down first, adjusting
her position so the towel was where she wanted it. Then
she looked up at her brother.
Perhaps his unconscious mind noticed the similarity of
her place on the bed, and her welcome for him to join
her, to what they had peeked at in the old house next
door. Perhaps seeing the sex act he had always heard
of, but had not been able to envision in his mind
clearly, affected him. Whatever it was he dripped with
anticipation for feeling her soft skin against his, and
hearing her special sighs as she experienced orgasm
under his fingers. He didn't think of doing to her what
Smith had done to his mother. That just didn't enter
his mind. But he lay with her, his heart full and
groaned as she gripped him and began to stroke him
again.
"I love this." she sighed as his fingers found her
slit, already slippery with her expectation. He rubbed
at the lips again, liking the feel of their willingness
to move around under his direction. She gripped him
tighter as he added the stimulation of suckling at her
turgid nips, which now protruded from her firm breasts.
They weren't as big around as her mother's. They didn't
stick out as much as her mother's, but they pleasured
her just like her mother had been pleasured. She liked
this new thing they did too... very much.
She first felt his penis touch her labia by accident,
as they moved against each other, kissing and moaning.
He had moved his fingers to her clit now and was
playing with it gently, rubbing in the little circles
he knew she loved. Their lovemaking wasn't as urgent
this time, though the feelings streaking through her
loins did cause her to jerk on him more forcefully. And
it was that which bought the tip of his penis in
contact with her pussy lips, just below where his
fingers stroked.
When it happened she noticed it mostly because it felt
so different from fingers. That head was smooth and
wide, it's plumb shape mooshing between her lips and
spreading them more than a finger would have. She
pulled at him, getting that contact again, swabbing his
glans through her dripping pussy lips. She wasn't
trying to get it in her. She too had not yet arrived at
the thought of that possibility. It just felt good to
do... so she did it.
It felt good to Robby too. Heat surrounded and kissed
the tip of his drippy cock, and he felt that wonderful
soothing stuff ooze out of him. She moaned into his
lips and suddenly that ooze turned into a rush of hot
fluid as his semen bathed her pussy mouth. He grunted
with the surprise of it. He hadn't felt it coming this
time for some reason.
Debbie felt that hot rush directly in her pussy mouth.
It was completely different than feeling it on the hair
that grew down there. It was warmer somehow. It felt
fabulous. She kept sliding the spurting thing through
her vulva as it gave her more and more of that fabulous
feeling. She could feel his cock begin to soften almost
immediately in her hand, and she squeezed it, not in
any attempt to milk it of it's nectar, but just because
it felt good to squeeze as it softened. Something in
her brain told her it would be OK now, now that he was
finished, to roll back and spread her legs so he could
do what he'd done before. She did, opening herself to
his fingers and he began to rub all through the
slippery mess with the flat of his hand.
Her hips arched up, wanting more than just that flat
hand, and her hand went to his... on top of his. When
she did this to herself she slipped her finger into her
sex. When she did that it didn't hurt, exactly, though
there had been warning tinges of pain in the past. His
finger had hurt her, but it was much larger than her
own. She wanted to feel her finger in her pussy, and
she pressed with her middle finger, trying to slip it
between his.
Instead she pushed his finger into her split.
Robby felt her push at his finger and let it slide
deeper into her. She tensed, but didn't cry out this
time. He went deeper, gently and slowly, sliding the
finger around in liquid, slippery heat.
"Does it hurt?" he asked in her ear.
"Noooooooodon'tstop" she ran her words together as her
hips arched again. "Feels gooood" she moaned.
He went deeper and then she sucked air and winced as
the thickest part of his finger scraped her now torn
cherry.
"Ahhhhhhh" she moaned, but her hand held his there.
"Don't stop." she said clearly.
"I'm hurting you." he said.
"Noooooo" she lied. Her orgasm was so close she felt
like she could reach out and touch it. It did hurt, but
only a little, and the deeper he went the better it
felt.
"Move it" she demanded. Her hand left his and went to
his head, pulling him to her breast. "Suck!"
Robby took her nipple and sucked at the same time he
withdrew his sperm-slicked finger from her pussy and
pushed it back in. It squelched noisily, making wet
slurping sounds as it slicked through his sperm. It
squeezed that residual sperm into her and out of her at
the same time. He pulled on it again, and the base of
his hand scraped across her clit.
She exploded in a wail of ecstasy, her hips coming up
off the towel in a convulsive leap as the orgasm
blinded her temporarily. She didn't care and closed her
eyes tightly, seeing bright spots in the darkness, her
mind paying attention only to the thick thing that was
plundering her pussy and the streaks of mad joy that
bounced back and forth from her loins to the nipple he
was suckling.
Her wild movements required Robby to dig in with his
finger, to keep from losing contact with her and that
only intensified her feeling. She shrieked, an
anguished cry of joy that sounded to Robby like she was
dying. In panic he jerked his finger out of her and her
shriek changed to a wail as the wonderful feeling in
her pussy went away. Her own hand flashed to her loins
and she shoved her middle finger into herself, jerking
it madly, punishing her clit through the rest of her
cum.
She felt every muscle in her body tense up and then it
was over. She flopped back to the bed, limp, her hand
falling at her side and gasped for air.
"Deb? Are you OK?" asked a very concerned Robby.
"I've... never... been... better." she panted. "That...
was... fantastic."
"It sounded like I was killing you." he said, unsure of
what to believe.
"You can... kill me like that... every day." she
rasped, her throat dry from all her deep and rapid
breathing.
"So it didn't hurt... like before?" he asked.
She nodded. "A little... but not so bad. Felt good."
she said. "Except you took your finger out way too
soon."
Eventually, the two teens used up all the nervous
energy the things they'd seen had fired in them. They
got up, cleaned up again, and again got something to
eat. As they sat at the table, munching on grilled
cheese sandwiches, the subject that was on both of
their minds finally found words.
"So what are we going to do?" asked Debbie.
"I don't know. It's all so strange and weird."
commented Robby.
"I want to yell at her... scream at her." said Debbie,
but without the anger that would have made it sound
like such actions were imminent.
"We can't do that." said Robby, pragmatically.
"She's hiding something." said Debbie.
"Well gee," chuckled her brother. "When did you figure
that out?"
She shot him a dark look.
"Why would she do that with a complete stranger?"
wondered the girl.
"Come on Deb," said Robby. "Obviously she knows him
from somewhere. He's NOT a stranger."
"But why would she hide it? And why would she let him
do that to our place?" complained Debbie.
"Deb, she doesn't KNOW it's our place." said Robby with
infuriating sense.
"OK, then, we'll TELL her it's our place!" said Debbie,
getting mad again.
"And she's just going to say "Gee, kids, I didn't know
that. I'll get right over there and tell the bad man to
get out." You really think she'll just say that keeping
that little secret from her for years and years is just
fine?" Robby sometimes had a way of making Debbie feel
stupid, even though she was quite sure she was the
smarter twin.
"But..." Debbie started to yell.
"LOOK!" he yelled first. "She's never done anything
that wasn't for our own good." he said insistently.
"You know she loves us. There has to be some
explanation for all this. We just have to figure out
how to get her to tell us."
Debbie sulked. "I don't think I like you very much."
she said sourly.
"I know." he said, making his voice sound obviously too
sad for the situation. "I could tell a little while ago
when you were telling me to squirt all over your...
pussy."
His use of that word, a word that, if not taboo, was
completely naughty, and not a word either of them felt
comfortable using in normal conversation, was like a
slap in the face to Debbie. Anger flared in her, but it
was because he was poking holes in all her statements.
She stood up.
"I'm going over to Angie's house. I'll be home for
supper." She tried to frown, to let Robby know she was
mad.
He just looked at her. He was afraid if he said
anything else it would only drive her further away from
him.
Both kids were home when Ramona walked in that night.
She had a lot on her mind, which was probably why she
didn't sense the slight air of tension in the house.
When she had returned to work, and had sat down at her
new desk, a perk of having been assigned to work with
the representative of the eccentric and mysterious
Nettleton who owned the mansion, the first thing she
had thought of was the heavy weight of her brother's
sperm in her womb as she sat. Her feelings for her
brother had been forced into a dark corner in her mind
for a long time, but she wasn't surprised when they
flooded out of that corner to drown her in their
passion and intensity. She had always loved Robert in a
special way that no other man could match.
She had known, when they were young, that what they did
was not acceptable to normal people. She had known that
there was significant danger if their love produced any
attention... especially if that attention came as the
result of her belly swelling with his child.
After he had gone, though, she wished more than
anything in the world that he had left her pregnant.
She missed him so much that she had dreamed every night
that his seed had taken hold in her, and that she would
have something of him to hold and cherish and love.
When her next period had come, announcing that her
dream was not to come true, she had cried even more
bitterly.
She had adjusted. And when Richard had died it had been
the memory of getting through the loss of her brother's
presence and all that she missed so much, that had
helped her decide to keep living then. That was when
she had been able to finally put her brother's memories
to rest, hidden in that corner of her mind. She had
centered on her children, and had used their raising as
a crutch to help her walk through life until she had
healed enough to stand on her own again.
Now, suddenly, Robert was back. The affect on her was
almost as traumatic as his leave-taking had been. As
she sat, feeling his essence lying in her womb, shivers
of ecstasy flowed through her veins. She was so happy
she felt brittle, as if she could break into a thousand
pieces if she weren't careful.
There were too many things to think about, and her mind
flitted from one to the other too quickly to stop and
actually think about each one. That he still loved her
was obvious, but what did that love mean? How would it
affect her life? What would he expect from her? How
would she tell her children about him? What did the
renovation of her family home mean in her life? She
realized with true irony that she could almost feel the
ghosts of her parents hovering over her, whispering to
her, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. Did
they approve? Were their spirits enraged that she would
lie with her own brother. What if she got pregnant now?
Did she want to prevent such a pregnancy? She knew she
would go to Robert again... and again... for as long as
he would take her naked body into his arms. She knew in
the center of her being that she could never deny him.
What did THAT mean to her life?
She did her work mechanically, her practiced financial
eye reviewing documents, flagging ones that looked
questionable for reasons she couldn't identify at that
moment, but which she knew would yield their secrets
later, when she was more settled. Her competence was
automatic, unthinking, as she shuffled papers, her mind
a whirl of unresolved issues.
It had taken a co-worker touching her shoulder, nodding
at the lights going out all over the bank, to bring her
back to the real world completely. She blushed at the
woman's questioning look.
"I guess I was preoccupied with all this." she said,
indicating the pile of invoices and bills on her desk.
"You'll get used to it." said the woman.
That social contact had let Ramona think of things
other than the rambling questions in her head, and she
had concentrated on traffic to keep her mind off of
things until she had passed the now open iron gates of
her ancestral home. When she parked and went into the
house, the uppermost thing in her mind was what, if
anything, to tell her children. She had to begin,
somehow, to prepare them for learning that they had an
uncle they knew nothing about.
Ramona started the car and then, like some demented
magic, the next thing she realized she was putting the
car in park in her own driveway. She didn't remember a
single thing about the drive home.
Chapter Six
===========
"I'm home." Ramona sang automatically when she dropped
her purse and keys on the sideboard in the hall.
"Hey!" came Robby's deep voice from the living room.
She heard nothing from Debbie and assumed she must be
in her room, or someplace it was hard to hear.
Ramona sought refuge in the rituals of preparing dinner
for her family. The questions came back to her as she
handled pots and pans and dishes.
"So" came the sudden voice of Debbie behind her. "How
was work today?"
Ramona looked at her daughter, but didn't notice the
tense set of Debbie's shoulders.
"Fine" she said automatically.
"Nothing... interesting happened then?" pressed Debbie.
Ramona, thinking that finally she had something to talk
about, said "Well, they gave me a new job. They put me
in charge of taking care of all the financial documents
associated with the renovation next door."
The silence this was met with penetrated Ramona's
awareness. She'd forgotten how upset Debbie was about
that renovation. She turned to see Debbie on the balls
of her feet, leaning forward slightly.
"I know you don't like what's going on over there."
said Ramona. "But what's happening is happening. Rob...
Mr. Nettleton has a lot of money in the bank, and they
want to keep him happy as a customer."
Debbie had pushed intentionally, trying to get her
mother to be forthcoming with information. It hadn't
worked, but that misspoken name was something she could
press.
"What does Robby have to do with that?" she asked.
"What?" asked Ramona, confused.
"You said Robby... before you said Mister Nettleton.
What does Robby have to do with that?"
Ramona was flustered. Debbie was acting almost hostile
toward her. Surely she didn't blame her mother for
being assigned to the Nettleton accounts.
"Robby doesn't have anything to do with it." she said
guardedly. I don't think you heard me correctly."
"I think you need to tell me what's going on." said
Debbie, her voice full of accusation and an
authoritative tone.
Ramona, unused to her daughter taking that tone with
her, and at the end of her emotional rope to begin
with, snapped.
"No, Debbie, I think YOU need to tell ME what's going
on! Why are you so intent that nothing should happen to
that house? Why is it any of your BUSINESS what happens
in that house? I want some answers young lady and I
WANT THEM NOW!"
Ramona's face was red and puffy as she shouted.
Debbie's face got that way almost instantly too. Both
women started screaming at each other, their hands
gastrulating wildly. Debbie screamed demands to know
why Ramona had "done that" with that horrible man and
why their mother was lying to them. Ramona screamed
that she had happiness within her grasp and that it was
obvious that Debbie didn't want her to have that. It
was fortunate for both that they were yelling so loudly
that neither could understand the other.
Robby appeared as if by magic between them, a hand held
out palm first to each snarling woman.
"HEY... HEY!!" he shouted, his voice drowning out both
of them.
The women subsided, both panting, their faces
remarkably similar in appearance, and not pleasant to
look at, for all that each woman was normally
beautiful.
"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT DOOR!" he
shouted, to keep them from starting up again, but then
dropped his voice. "Whatever it is, shouting at each
other won't help anything."
He looked first at his sister and then turned his head
to look at his mother, his hands still up.
"And whatever it is shouldn't come between us as a
family." he said firmly. "Mom... what's for dinner?" he
asked inanely. It was a bald faced attempt to change
the subject.
Ramona realized with a flush of embarrassment that she
had no idea what she'd been preparing. She looked at
the counter in confusion. "I don't know." she said
weakly. When she saw the chicken on the counter she
said "Fried chicken." Her eyes went to the stove, at
the pan of water boiling there, and the potatoes in it.
"And mashed potatoes." she added.
"OK then." said Robby, as if something momentous had
been resolved. "I'm starving."
Debbie took a shuddering breath. She, like her mother,
had a lot on her mind too. She knew what she had
screamed, but her mother didn't appear to have actually
heard her. She felt her mind twist slightly in her head
as she recognized that the fact that her mother was
acting so oddly had to mean that something powerful was
going on. She felt a rush of shame for screaming. Robby
was right about that. As much as she loved that old
house, it wasn't worth driving her mother away from
her. Whatever was going on must be awfully important to
her mother for her to act this way. And, though she
didn't understand it, she suddenly knew that somehow,
it would all make sense eventually. She still itched to
get answers to her questions, but she also knew that
she'd have to be patient to get them.
She hoped she could make herself find that patience.
"I'm sorry." she said suddenly. She looked at her
mother with an unspoken pleading in her eyes.
"Me too." said Ramona. "I have a lot on my mind. I
shouldn't have yelled at you. None of this is your
fault."
Robby gave a silent sigh of relief as the two women
rushed together and hugged. He watched in confusion as
both of them started crying and apologizing even more.
He decided that women were even stranger than he had
suspected.
"I'm starving over here." he complained, rubbing his
stomach.
"Then get a can of green beans and put them on the
stove." said his mother tearfully. "Do you expect me to
do EVERYTHING for you?"
Robby signed again, this time audibly, and went to the
pantry.
There was still tension during supper, but it was
manageable. All three family members tried to make idle
conversation, but it all fell flat. Finally Ramona put
down her fork, wiped the corners of her mouth with her
napkin and settled her gaze on her daughter.
"I'm just going to say something. I don't want to talk
about it right now. You seem to have some emotional
involvement with that house that I don't understand. So
let me just say this and I want you to think about it
before you say anything back... both of you." she said,
turning her eyes to her son. "OK?"
Both teens nodded. There was a sinking sensation in
Debbie's stomach.
"OK," said their mother. "That property is owned by
Robert Nettleton. It has been for years. He was
overseas for a long time, but now he wants to come back
and live there. It's his house. He's very rich and he
has his money in the bank... where I work. They want me
to take care of his financial needs... pay his bills
and things like that. I can't turn that down. It's not
exactly a promotion, but it pays better than just being
a teller. If I do a good job it may lead to more
assignments like this. So, even though I know you two
don't want anything to happen next door, I have to do
this. That's what I want you to understand. I'm not
doing this to hurt you or anything like that. Do you
understand?"
"Can I ask one question?" probed Debbie, unable to find
the patience she had reminded herself to look for.
"Yes, as long as you understand I may not be able to
answer it." said her mother.
"Why couldn't you answer it?" asked Debbie.
Ramona struggled in her mind, choosing her words
carefully. "There are some... complications... things I
can't talk about right now."
'I just bet there are!' thought Debbie to herself. She
decided to push just a little.
"When you fixed dinner last night it was obvious that
mister Smith is... important. Why is he so important?"
Ramona had been semi-prepared for several questions.
Questions about "Mister Smith" weren't in that number.
She was too long in answering, and didn't have time to
think about her answer carefully.
"He's Robert Nettleton's representative." she said.
"He's important to the bank."
Debbie's stomach flip-flopped. Her mother had told her
an outright lie. Or at least part of it was an outright
lie. He might be the owner's representative, but that
wasn't why he was so important. That much had been made
perfectly clear through the peep hole that very day.
"Right." said Debbie tightly. It was obvious she didn't
like that answer.
"Debbie..." warned her brother.
"I'm not going to shout." she said to him.
Ramona knew something was wrong... that her answer had
been in error some way. But the kids couldn't possibly
know who "Mister Smith" really was. It was impossible.
Her confusion prevented her from pursuing the subject
with her daughter, who suddenly looked hostile again.
"I have to deal with him at the bank." said Ramona,
trying to salvage something without knowing how. "I
just wanted him to feel welcome."
"Oh I'm sure he feels VERY welcome." said Debbie
tightly. Her brother's hand suddenly gripped her knee
under the table... painfully. She tried to push it
away, but he was too strong. He did let off the
pressure, but kept his hand there in unspoken warning.
Debbie, unable to control herself, pushed more. "Maybe
you should take him a plate tonight. I'm sure he'd feel
more WELCOME."
Unknown to Debbie, that suggestion drove straight into
Ramona's brain. She COULD take him a plate of food. It
would be a perfect way to see him again, privately. Her
daughter's tone of voice was nudged out of her
consciousness.
"That's a good idea." she said. Both children saw a
sparkle come into her eye and were mildly astonished.
"That's a very good idea." said their mother, smiling
for the first time that night. "It would be very
neighborly!"
To her children's further astonishment she stood up,
forgetting her own food and bustling about making up a
plate.
"I'll just take this over now, and see how he's doing."
Ramona's eyes had a far away look in them now, as if
she weren't paying attention to what she was doing.
Their mother's behavior was so bizarre that it struck
her children in a way that impressed on them just HOW
important this man was. That she would abandoned her
dinner and her children... just like that... was
something that spoke volumes to them. It penetrated
their own brains in a way that nothing else had, even
watching their mother have sex. As the door closed
behind her, they looked at each other.
"Can you believe that?" asked Robby.
"Who IS this guy?" asked Debbie, wonder in her voice.
There was unspoken agreement between the teens to spy
again. They didn't finish their dinner either, standing
up and heading for the back door as if they had planned
this all along. They stayed silent as they ghosted from
tree to tree toward the house. Robby exclaimed at how
different the outside looked. Repairs and paint just on
the parts of the back side of the house made it look
completely different. His sister pulled at his sleeve
to get him to move on. They made just a cursory
examination of the back of the house. Their mother
would have drawn attention to the front part. They
strode almost calmly to the entrance of the root cellar
and slipped down into the dark.
Again they had left without thinking about light, but
they fumbled in the dark only a little, finding the
hidden catch for the shelf-door and stepping into the
tunnel. They counted steps, stopping a foot from the
door to the stairwell and pulled on the ring to open it
slowly. The hinges still squealed a little and they
left the door open to avoid making the hinges squeal
again.
Tiptoeing straight to the peep hole for the master
bedroom, Debbie got there first and pressed her face to
the holes.
The room was empty.
She turned and whispered "They're not in there."
They scurried from spy hole to spy hole, trying to
locate the adults. It was Robby who saw part of a man's
body disappearing from view toward the grand staircase.
Moving back to the master bedroom they waited, but no
one appeared. They could both hear voices from lower in
the house.
Debbie cupper her hands to her brother's ear. "You wait
here. I'll go back and see if I can find them." He
nodded, peering into the room.
Debbie found them in the formal dining room. Smith
didn't have on his disguise, and was sitting at the
head of a table that would have seated twenty-four
comfortably. Her mother sat next to him. He was eating
calmly. She thought to go get her brother, but they
were talking and she wanted to hear. Losing vision, she
pressed her ear to a hole.
"... acting so strangely about this whole thing." she
heard her mother say.
"It will only be another week or two before we can tell
them." said the man around a mouthful of chicken. "This
is delicious Rami."
"Thank you." said Ramona automatically. "I don't know
if I can put them off for another week." she said.
"If you think they can keep quiet about it then tell
them now." said the man.
"Bobby, they're just kids. They're smart kids. They
started second grade when they were six because they
already knew everything that first grade had to teach
them. But they're still kids. This is going to turn
their world upside down."
Debbie agreed with that evaluation of things already.
She took time to peek, but nothing had changed. She put
her ear back to the wall.
"...expect them to take it in stride. Why didn't you
tell them a long time ago?" She only heard part of the
statement and question, but Debbie knew it had to do
with telling her and Robby what was going on.
"I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." said Ramona.
"You were gone so long, and in so many dangerous
places. I dreaded any kind of special mail, for fear it
world be notification that you were dead."
"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell them about
me. You could have told them about me even if I HAD
died, Rami."
"Yes, but then I'd have had to tell them who they are.
They're good kids Bobby. They're smart and talented and
I don't want this to change that. You know what it can
mean to be who we are."
It was silent and Debbie darted a look. Smith had
stopped eating and was putting his fork down. She
pressed her ear to the hole.
"Ramona, it didn't ruin you. It didn't ruin me either.
There's nothing wrong with who we are. Why do you think
it would hurt them to know who THEY are?"
Her mother was silent for a moment. "There's so much
pain, Bobby."
Debbie stole a peek again, and could hear Smith faintly
speak.
"Not for them." he countered. "That's our pain, my
darling. They can never feel that pain like we have."
He reached for her hand. "Was there pain this morning?"
Debbie watched her mother's smile bloom. She wanted to
hear better, but the sight of her mother's joyous face
kept her eyes glued on the couple.
"No, it was wonderful. You KNOW how wonderful it was."
Debbie watched her mother lift Smith's hand and kiss
his fingertips.
"Did you really come just to bring me this fine meal?"
asked the man, moving his fingers to caress Ramona's
face.
Debbie saw her mother's face take on a look she had
never seen there. A look of sensuality... of desire...
like only the very best movie stars could re-create on
film.
"No." she said.
"Ah, then, my fine meal is finished. Perhaps you
brought me dessert? My tongue still wishes for some
sweet syrup to finish the meal properly."
"My children will wonder why it takes me so long." said
Ramona wistfully.
"Will they come to this haunted place to find you?"
She shook her head firmly. "They'd never come here. No
one comes here. I know what you think, but it's not my
children who have been coming here." Then she tilted
her head, like she was studying the man. "But I came
here. I'm here now."
Debbie watched as her mother stood and Smith pushed his
plate out of the way. They embraced, their hands
sliding all over each other's bodies. The girl felt a
thrill of unwelcome heat in her loins. She couldn't get
used to seeing her mother as a sexual being. And she
was so unashamed about it!
"I want to taste you." said the man.
"Here?" laughed Ramona.
"What better place for dessert?" he said, lifting her
by the waist and sitting her on the end of the table.
"You're horrible. My daughter was right! You're a
horrible man!" laughed Ramona. But she scooted back on
the table and leaned backwards, supporting her upper
torso with her arms behind her.
Ramona was still dressed for work, in a sensible summer
dress that buttoned up the front. It was white, and
covered with a riot of colorful flowers that spilled
across it in a swath that left one shoulder and parts
of the skirt plain white. Debbie's mouth dropped open
as her mother drew her knees up to her chest and then
let them fall apart, spreading the skirt. Smith's hands
lifted the hem and Debbie could see her mother had worn
knee high stockings.
Just then Robby came up behind his sister and
whispered, startling her.
"I thought you were coming back to get me." he hissed.
Debbie jumped and her forehead thumped the wall.
"Shhhh" she went and peered back through the peep
holes. She was just in time to see Smith's head turning
back to her mother. He kept lifting her mother's skirt,
clear up to her waist, exposing her panties.
The dining room had multiple peep holes, as opposed to
just one set, like most other rooms had, and Robby was
able to use a set that were slightly higher than the
ones that were comfortable for Debbie to use. He looked
and stifled a gasp as he saw Smith's hands slide down
the outsides of his mother's thighs to grip her
panties. He held his breath as his mother lifted her
buttocks up off the table - what was she doing on the
table? - and held it longer as Smith slid the panties
up his mother's thighs until she had to bring her knees
back together to let him slide them past them. Her
knees fell back open, though, as he pulled the garment
off her feet, working it over her shoes, which were
still on. Smith stared at the woman's pussy, glistening
in the light.
The fact there was light intruded upon Robby's
consciousness and he realized that electricity had been
installed. At least in this room. He couldn't see the
light source, but it was good enough that he could see
a sparkle, as of drops of ice or something, on the
light fur that was between his mother's legs.
"What are they doing?" he whispered to his sister. Her
hand waved at him and again all she said was "Shhhh."
Her eyes were glued to her set of peep holes.
Both teens watched in stark disbelief as the man bent
and began kissing the insides of their mother's legs,
starting at the knees, and changing legs from time to
time. His head got in the way, but it was obvious when
he could go no further. Their mother's head dropped
back, as if she were staring at the ceiling and a low
moan came ripping out of her throat.
Both kids had heard of oral sex, of course, and knew
other teens who claimed to have engaged in it. But that
was a scenario that neither Robby nor Debbie had
actually been able to quite believe was, in fact, real.
It was like a legend that was fun to believe in, but
not quite really believable. That their straight-laced
mother not only allowed it, but obviously was
enraptured by this, caused in them feelings that,
before this, they would have explored in this very
house, up in the girl's bedroom.
"Mmmmmmm Bobby, I'd forgotten how wonderful that is."
moaned Ramona. Her voice was clearly audible through
the plastered walls.
Smith pulled away from their mother's sex, leaning
back. "Your husband did not do this for you?"
One of Ramona's hands lifted from behind her and
reached for the man's head. She had to lean forward,
but she grabbed his brown hair and pulled him back
toward her.
"Don't talk." she commanded.
He leaned forward and the teens saw her lift her
buttocks up off the table to push her pussy into his
face as he regained contact. As he slurped - the only
word they could envision for the sounds coming through
the wall - his hands went to their mother's breasts,
fumbling with her buttons, undoing her dress. He pushed
her bra up off her breasts and began squeezing and
pulling at her distended, dark nipples.
"AHHHHHHH" she groaned, part pain, mostly ecstasy. "I
wish you had two mouths you beast." She pushed at his
face again. "Just a little longer.
Uhhhhnnnnggggggeeeeeeeeeee" she squealed, obviously
having an orgasm as the man's face moved in between her
thighs and his fingers punished her nipples.
When her cries died away Smith stood and his hands went
to his belt.
"I have something that will take the place of one
mouth." he announced.
If the twins had been astonished before, they were
speechless as they saw their mother scoot across the
table toward the man.
"My turn for dessert." she panted.
Smith pushed his pants down as their mother slid off
the table, her skirt falling back to its normal place.
She knelt in front of the man and the teens both gasped
as she clearly took his erect phallus into her mouth.
Her cheeks caved in as she sucked greedily.
Now it was Smith who looked at the ceiling, his hands
on his hips.
"Ahhhhh sweet Rami" he groaned.
Ramona obviously loved what she was sucking. She too
made wet slurping noises as her lips moved all along
the thick stalk that protruded from dark curly hair
above a large full looking sack.
Debbie's loins were hot now. Seeing this completely
impossible behavior on the part of her mother caused
her brain to disconnect with the fact that it WAS her
mother. As if she were watching two strangers, she felt
her own pussy get wet enough to make those same noises
she was hearing. Her hand went to her shorts and she
unbuttoned them, slipping her hand into them to find
her pussy was sopping. She stuck a finger in herself
and curled it, pulling up to put pressure on her
clitty. She couldn't stifle a little moan.
Robby was having his own difficulties dealing with what
he was seeing. He had less problem with his mother's
behavior, perhaps because most men want every woman to
look and act like she loves sex. He was hard as rock,
though, and wasn't sure he should be. His sister's moan
caused him to glance at her and notice where her hand
was. Feeling unaccountably better, he unzipped himself
and hauled out his stiff prick. His hand stroked it as
he peered through the spy holes again.
"Rami, my sweet, I'm about to explode." groaned Smith.
Ramona's actions left no doubt that if he did so in her
mouth she would not complain.
"Not in your mouth my darling, please." he pleaded.
Ramona left off sucking him instantly and jumped
backwards to land on the end of the table again,
leaning back as she had before. She lifted her legs,
spreading them and Smith, obviously delighted,
supported her legs with his hands while he waded
between her thighs. He had to let go of one leg and
reach between them, but they he surged toward her as
she cried out in ecstasy.
"This is where I love to plant my seed." he said
gruffly.
"Yes!" exhorted the mother of the stunned teens.
"I always wished I could have made a little baby inside
you my sweet." panted the man as he began thrusting
hard into their mother.
"I wanted your child" she cried out.
"Do you still?" he rasped.
"YES!" screamed Ramona.
With that scream of assent, Robby's semen splattered
the wall. Debbie heard his grunts of release and she
had to squat as her pussy finally gave her the relief
of sweet orgasm.
Inside the dining room, Robert Nettleton leaned into
his sister and delivered his seed into her fertile
garden, gasping with the force of his release, hoping
that he really was creating life in her womb. Some dim
part of his mind knew that was an insane thing to wish
for, but he didn't care.
Neither did Ramona.
=================================================
Robby and Debbie, however, cared very much whether this
strange mysterious man from their mother's past got her
with child. While what they had seen was erotic in the
extreme, and stimulated their own sexual desires, the
thought of their mother having a baby by this man was
something that did not appeal to them. On this, they
agreed, discussing it in the root cellar and in the
woods and even in the back yard as they tried to get
home before their mother did.
What they could not agree on was what they were going
to be able to do about it. They returned to their
separate rooms to fret and think.
Debbie's primary thoughts were about how her mother had
lied to her. She was not aware of any time in her short
life when her mother had intentionally lied to her
about something. She was old enough to realize that,
whatever her mother was hiding, it was important to
Ramona. At the same time, Debbie knew that when SHE
lied - and she had lied her fair share of times, to a
number of people - that it was to cover up something
she was ashamed of, or would get in trouble for. Debbie
was, therefore, very upset about the lie. In a strange
way she was more upset about the lie than she was about
her mother acting like a slut with a complete stranger.
But that seemed wrong too. It was obvious he wasn't a
complete stranger... not to her mother.
Debbie heard the door slam downstairs. Her mother was
back... back from her wild sex party with the man next
door. Curiosity drove Debbie out of her room. She found
her mother in the kitchen, washing up the plate she had
taken next door. She was... humming.
Chapter Seven
=============
Debbie's natural curiosity was made more firm by her
unwillingness to accept that her mother had lied to
her. Other than the fact that she and Robby had played
at the Nettleton Manor for years, and that they were
sexually involved with each other, were bit secrets.
But those were the only secrets Debbie had from her
mother. She couldn't understand how her mother could be
this other woman, and that Debbie had never been able
to see even a glimpse of tht woman.
"Mom?" began Debbie tentatively.'
"Hmmmm?" responded Ramona, her mind still on what had
just happened.
"Tell me about your boyfriends." said Debbie.
Ramona turned and looked at her daughter. "Whatever do
you mean? I don't have any boyfriends."
Debbie pushed the fresh sprout of her anger down and
tried to be patient. "I mean when you were my age." she
clarified.
Ramona knew her daughter well enough to see that she
was uncomfortable... distant somehow. They had always
been loving and close. Was Debbie interested in a boy?
That might explain her behavior recently... her fits of
anger. And, even though Debbie's recent outbursts had
seemed to be tied to the Nettleton mansion, Ramona knew
that... hormones... could intrude into life in the most
unlikely ways.
"Are you interested in a boy?" she asked her daughter.
Debbie's first instinct was to deny that with a laugh.
There were boys who interested her, but not as
boyfriend material. She wasn't driven by hormones to
seek males. She was quite satisfied with what she and
her brother did in that way. But still, boys were...
interesting. And if saying she was interested in a boy
would get her mother talking, then fine.
"Sort of." she said vaguely. "I've never had a real
boyfriend."
Ramona sighed. Life at this stage of growing up was so
hard. She hated the thought of her daughter going
through what she had gone through as a girl. But she
knew it had to happen. She hoped it didn't have to
happen in quite the same way it had to her. It never
occurred to her that her son and daughter might have
the same kind of relationship she had had with HER
brother. THAT relationship had been born of the kind of
pain and loneliness that her children had never had to
face.
"Well, sweetheart, I'm not sure I'll be much help to
you. I didn't have many boyfriends until I met your
father." she said.
"Tell me about them." urged Debbie.
Ramona sat down at the table, where her unfinished
plate of food still sat. She took a sip of her tea, but
left the food alone.
"Golly," she said, her eyes going unfocused. "There
isn't all that much to tell. There was a boy named
George, when I was twelve. He was nice to me and I kind
of thought of him as a boyfriend. We couldn't date or
anything like that, of course."
"How about when you were older... my age?" asked
Debbie.
Ramona didn't know how to answer that question. Her
"boyfriend" then had been Robert. Her guardian hadn't
allowed her to date, and boys didn't come to visit at
the house where the waifs lived. There had been boys
who showed interest in her, but the whispers of girls
her age told her that all they wanted was what she and
Robert did in the dark of night, and she wasn't
interested in doing that with anyone except Robert.
What she had with her brother was precious and special.
But she couldn't tell her daughter about THAT!
"I guess I didn't really have a boyfriend until I went
to college and met your father." she said.
The anger swelled again in the pit of Debbie's gut.
Another lie.
"No other boy kissed you until you met Daddy?" she
asked, her voice tight.
There was a slippery slope here for Ramona. Another boy
HAD kissed her, and done a lot more than that before
she met Richard. But that boy was Robert, and she
couldn't tell her daughter about THAT. She avoided the
question by asking one of her own.
"Has a boy tried to kiss you?"
"You didn't answer my question Mom." continued Debbie.
"Why won't you answer my question?"
Ramona's reaction to her daughter's interrogation was
one of fear. Had someone in the community been telling
her children stories of Ramona's past? There were still
a few people around who had lived in Nettleton and
might have known Ramona when she was a ward. She hadn't
worried about them because she had tried to be so
invisible before she went to college. And, when she
came back to Nettleton with a husband and a baby in her
womb, she had thought people would forget her past.
Only the oldest people in town might remember that she
was the sad little Nettleton girl who changed her name.
Was it possible that the renovation of the mansion had
brought out old dusty memories... and idle chatter
about the past?
"Who have you been talking to?" she asked.
Now it was Debbie who had to be careful. Any
information she divulged about what she now knew about
her mother had to appear to have come from some source
that couldn't be questioned.
"Nobody" she said tersely. "It's just that everybody
has a boyfriend. Everybody has a first kiss. It's just
how things happen. I just wanted to know what that was
like for you."
Ramona thought about what kind of emotions Debbie might
be feeling at her age. She didn't have a good frame of
reference to think about that, because her own
childhood had been anything but normal. Still, she knew
how it felt to be in love... to want a man's touch...
to want to do things with a man, even if that man had
been her brother when she was Debbie's age.
"Sit down, Darling." she said, pointing to a chair.
Debbie hesitated, but then sat.
"Sweetheart, a girl at your age has feelings that are
very strong sometimes. It's normal for her to be
curious about boys and what it would be like to... kiss
them. That seems like a long time ago, when I felt
those things. The mother in me wants to tell you not to
kiss the boys. But I know that's not realistic. I guess
what I really want you to understand is that it's
tempting to do things with boys just because of
feelings you have, but it's important not to go too far
unless you have real love. Does that make sense?"
Debbie's reaction to that was mixed. What her mother
was saying sounded like what any mother would say. But,
knowing what her mother had just done, only an hour
before, it had to mean that her mother... loved...
mister Smith, and that didn't make any sense at all. A
new thought bloomed in Debbie's mind. She didn't
remember her father, because she had just been a
toddler when he was killed. And, while she didn't
remember any men in her home life, there had been a
period of a few years when, if there WERE a man in the
house, she might not have remembered it. Could mister
Smith be a man her mother fell in love with AFTER her
father was killed?
In typical teenage fashion, instead of answering her
mother's question, she blurted out her own.
"Mom, did you have a boyfriend after Daddy died?"
Ramona stared at her daughter. This was a conversation
that seemed... odd somehow. Her parental radar began to
have blips on the screen that were disturbing.
"No, Darling." she said. She strained to find the right
words. "Things were very difficult for me when your
father died. I wasn't... well. It took a long time to
get as back to being normal as I could. I didn't feel
that... seeking male companionship... was something
that would make my life... our lives... better."
Ramona saw something like disappointment cross her
daughter's face. This was very odd. On impulse she
spoke.
"Debbie, why are you asking me all these questions. Do
you have a boyfriend? Has he tried to do something that
makes you uncomfortable? What's going on?"
Their roles had been somewhat reversed. Initially,
Debbie had thought she might pry some information out
of her mother that would answer some questions about
the man next door. If he was an old boyfriend, what she
and her brother had seen would make a lot more sense.
Now, however, she heard that tone in her mother's voice
that meant SHE was the one being interrogated, and that
her mother wanted to pry information out of HER.
Still, other than the fact that her mother did not seem
to want to confess to what had gone on in the past with
mister Smith... what was STILL going on with him... her
mother's responses had been what Debbie would have
expected... caring responses that any loving mother
might have given. The questions Debbie wanted answers
to concerned mister Smith. Something in Debbie had
begun to recognize that her and her brother's childhood
play-place was gone now, never to return. Now this
unbelievable relationship her mother had with Smith had
pushed itself into her uppermost mind. She itched to
make sense of it, and she took the risk of further
questions.
"It's just that you seem so interested in mister
Smith." she hazarded. "I mean what with him being a
stranger and all, and I know about the bank and all
that stuff, but it just seems like... I don't know...
like you look at him sort of like I look at boys at
school."
Debbie held her breath, waiting to see what her mother
would say... or do.
It was a pivotal point in the relationship between
mother and daughter. At this point, Debbie knew her
mother had lied to her at least twice, and that was
something she couldn't understand. She also knew that
her mother must love this stranger from somewhere in
her past that she wasn't willing to talk about, and she
couldn't understand that either. Had her mother
laughed, or pshawed the idea that Smith might mean
something to her, it might have created a rift between
mother and daughter that could have lasted a lifetime.
But Ramona didn't laugh. She was seized by feelings of
fear of her daughter finding out secrets that were
better off left buried. At the same time she had to
acknowledge that her daughter's instincts about this
were astonishingly accurate, considering her age. Had
she known that her children had spied on her,
everything would have been different. She harbored some
kind of insane hope in her heart that she and Robert
might be able, somehow, to recapture the happiness of
their youth together, now that he was back. She felt no
guilt about what they had done since his return, but
she was fully aware of the pitfalls involved in that
forbidden relationship. If she could just tell her
children who he was, they would simply assume that
the... feelings... they saw, and which Debbie had just
voiced seeing, were only the natural love of sister for
brother.
But could she trust them to be discreet? Robert still
had things to do before he took off his disguise in
public, or at least until he appeared publicly as
Robert Ellsworth Nettleton. Ramona was wracked with
doubt. But she saw real questions in her daughter's
eyes, and that was important too.
Now it was Ramona who took a risk.
"Sweetheart, there are things about mister Smith you
don't know."
Ramona saw light bloom in her daughter's eyes, an
obvious interest that shouted that this was something
Debbie wanted very badly to know about. Debbie
unconsciously leaned forward, toward her mother.
"But... I can't tell you everything just yet."
The light dimmed in Debbie's eyes, and Ramona saw that
too. She went on hurriedly.
"It's not because I don't WANT to tell you. It's
complicated. There are legal issues over at the mansion
and, until those are resolved, it's very important that
no one learn some things about him that could cause him
problems."
Debbie clutched at the little part of the secret that
her mother had shared.
"OK, I understand that, but why would you be interested
in him? As a man, I mean?" Debbie pushed her luck even
further. "It's like you knew him in the past or
something."
Ramona became wary. "Is this what all those questions
about boyfriends were all about?" she asked shrewdly.
Debbie's eyes widened. Her mother was pretty sharp.
"Well... yeah... I guess so... sort of."
Ramona didn't know what to say. She knew if she just
put her daughter off that it wouldn't work. That much
was obvious from her previous behavior.
"Let me say this. I already told you I knew him in the
past. And, when I knew him then I liked him. He didn't
have that beard then. But he's not my boyfriend."
Ramona looked at her daughter to gauge the response.
Debbie was now confused. Her mother obviously liked
mister Smith a LOT more than she was admitting to. But
what confused Debbie was her mother's unwillingness to
admit that. She got an idea.
"Is he married or something?" she asked.
Ramona shook her head. "No, he's not married. But
people would be... upset if they thought we were as
close as a boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Why?" asked Debbie.
"That's something I can't talk about." said Ramona,
unable to come up with anything else. "You'll
understand in a few weeks. I promise you that. You'll
understand everything in a few weeks. OK?"
Debbie's curiosity had been both soothed, to a tiny
degree, and inflamed, to a large degree. She couldn't
imagine why her mother had to wait to tell her just who
this man really was. But she knew she'd gotten as much
out of her mother as was likely, so she nodded. Then
she felt compelled, for some reason, to hug her mother.
She got up and bent over to embrace her.
"I love you Mommy." she said into her mother's hair.
Ramona felt a stab of emotion. "I love you too baby. I
really do. And someday you'll understand all of this
and it will be OK. I promise everything will be OK."
she murmured.
That did, in fact, reassure Debbie, but she went to
talk to Robby about things anyway. She didn't have much
to give him, but it was more than she'd had an hour
ago.
Robby listened carefully to what his sister told him.
"She admitted she liked him, a long time ago?" he
asked.
"Well, she didn't SAY it was a long time ago. She just
said she liked him, but he wasn't her boyfriend. But it
HAD to be a long time ago, because otherwise we'd know
him too... wouldn't we?"
"Yeah, that makes sense." said her brother. "And she
said he couldn't be her... boyfriend?" That word just
seemed too strange to use in the same sentence as his
mother.
"She said he CAN'T be her boyfriend, because people
wouldn't like it." said Debbie. "Why wouldn't people
let her choose whoever she wanted for her boyfriend?"
she mused.
"It has to be something to do with the manor." decided
Robby. "But how can we find out what it is?"
Debbie thought and then straightened up.
"The LIBRARY!" she said excitedly. "Doesn't the library
have old records and newspapers and stuff like that?"
And so it was decided. The kids would journey to the
town library the next day, while their mother worked...
or visited Smith again.
=======================================================
===
Ramona worried about the conversation with her
daughter. Had she said too much? Should she have said
more? But the next morning, when her children acted
completely normal towards her, laughing and talking
about going swimming, she felt better.
She might have felt differently if she'd known what
they were really going to do.
They waited until she was gone and then started to get
ready to go. Debbie, thinking about her mother, and
what she'd seen, suddenly felt that itch between her
legs that meant it was time to visit the manor. Except
they couldn't do that any more. She remembered the day
before, as they lay clutched on the very bed she was
sitting on, and her nipples tingled. She got up to go
see her brother.
Robby was standing in his underwear, trying to decide
on whether to wear shorts or jeans when his sister
walked into the room, her blouse unbuttoned. She pulled
it open to display her naked, bobbing breasts.
"Little Debbie has a treat for you." she announced,
taking the blouse off.
Uncharacteristically, Robby, the male in the
relationship, the one reputed to have no self control,
chastised her.
"Debbie, we have things to do!"
"We can afford ten minutes." she said, cupping her
breasts and squeezing her nipples between her thumbs
and forefingers. "Come on, don't you want just a little
taste?"
She knew how to get his juices flowing and watched with
glee as the front of his briefs began to fill up and
bulge.
"Of course you do." she teased, bending over to slide
her shorts down and step out of them. She slid one hand
from her breast into her panties and pressed her clit.
"Hey!" he said. "Isn't that my job?"
"I thought you wanted to go dig through musty old
books." she kept teasing. "Besides, I did just fine all
by myself for years before you got involved."
Robby knew how to tease too. He picked up his shorts
and put a leg through them.
"OK, I'll be at the library whenever you get finished."
He pulled the shorts up and buttoned the waist.
"Robbeeeeeeee" she whined. "Don't be mean to meeeeee."
she said as she dug her finger up into her pussy.
"You started it." he grinned.
But he unbuttoned and dropped his pants. Her pursuit of
him gave him a feeling of power and he pulled his
briefs off to stand, hands on hips, his prick strong
and straight, pointing at her. He went to his bed and
lay down on it, looking at her.
Debbie made a show of sliding her panties down her
thighs. She stood when they were at her knees,
spreading her feet as widely as her strained panties
allowed, and ruffled her blond fur, slicking her middle
finger between her lips.
"I'm wet." she said, her voice husky.
"I know how to make you even wetter." said her brother,
reaching for his cock and stroking it.
Debbie removed her panties, kicking them with one foot,
making them sail toward her brother. They hit the side
of the bed and dropped to the floor. She walked
languidly over to the bed and leaned over to watch as
her brother stroked himself. She loved watching that
thin skin uncover and then cover back up the head of
his prick.
"Let me." she said, reaching for it.
Robby let his hand drop and sighed as he felt her warm
hand grasp him. She played with him, playing with his
foreskin. A bubble of white oozed out of the slit in
the tip and Debbie suddenly thought of her mother, on
her knees in front of Smith, sucking. She had been
ready to let Smith squirt in her mouth, but he had
wanted to put - what was it he called it? - his seed...
yes his seed in her mother's pussy, where it could make
a baby. She stared at her brother's... seed.
Acting on impulse, she leaned lower and flicked her
tongue out to swipe that bubble with the tip of her
tongue.
She tasted. It didn't taste like much of anything. A
tiny bit bitter, but sweet somehow too. Her impulse
suggested copying what her mother had done. Having seen
her mother, who was obviously enjoying what she had
been doing, it didn't seem to strange any more.
Robby felt heat surround the head of his cock. It was
like nothing he had ever felt before, except maybe when
he rubbed between his sister's pussy lips with the tip.
But this was ALL around the knob. He lifted his head
and stared at his sister, sucking his cock.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck... oh... oh." he moaned.
The heat all around his prick head left, leaving cool
air that didn't feel good at all. Her blond head came
up.
"You like that?" she asked, licking her lips.
"Ohhh pleeease do it some more." he pleaded.
She happily went back to sucking, loving the feel of
his smooth skin. She could play with that cute foreskin
with her tongue and she did so, moving her lips to
force it off the head and then licking it as it tried
to cover him again. She tasted more of the bitter/sweet
stuff and swallowed it, along with saliva that seemed
to be pouring into her mouth. She took more of his cock
into her mouth, feeling downward with her lips, feeling
the head trying to go into the back of her throat. She
gagged, and didn't like that feeling, so she pulled
back to play with just the head. She liked that better.
Robby had lain rigid while she loved his prick. He
wanted to shoot, but the thought of doing that with her
mouth down there was something he was just sure she'd
be mad at if he did it. But it felt too good.
"Deb, something's going to happen." he warned, his
voice tight as he tried not to make a horrible mistake.
"You need to stop now!"
She did, raising her head. "Is it going to squirt?" she
asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, that feels too good."
She stared at her brother's eyes. "You taste good." she
said.
Then she let her face fall and took him in her mouth
again.
For Robby, it was like somebody had slapped him ten or
fifteen times. He closed his eyes tightly as his face
went into a grimace and his mouth opened wide. He felt
it deep in his balls... an ache that could only be
eased by one thing. Then, before he could take another
breath his prick started spouting ribbons of thick cum.
Debbie knew what to expect only insofar as she had seen
him squirt before, and helped clean up the spots where
they had made a mess on the bed. But confining that to
just her mouth was much more difficult than she thought
it would be. She got two swallows in before her mouth
overflowed and her brother's sperm began leaking from
the corners of her mouth. She felt like she was going
to choke and pulled her mouth off of him, taking one
spurt right on where, if she were a male, she might
have a moustache. She could have posed for a commercial
that wouldn't be seen for thirty years, in which the
tag line was "Got Milk?" Except, of course, for the
fact that her "milk" was now dripping down across her
lips and chin and beginning to drop in strings down to
her breasts. She swallowed twice more, her mouth
clearing at last, and her hands came up to catch the
mess. In concentration it tasted different and she
realized that she loved the taste. She began licking
her hands, cleaning them like a kitten cleans its paws.
Robby just lay there dazed, his prick oozing more of
the stuff that puddled in his hair to join what had
leaked out of her mouth before she gave up.
"I can't believe you did that." he panted.
Debbie licked her palm and the heel of one hand, even
though they looked clean by now. "That was fun." she
said. "But I'm REALLY horny now." She looked at her
brother. "Would you do that... for me?" she asked.
Robby thought about that. He'd seen Smith doing that to
his mother, and she had obviously loved it. But it
seemed... gross. Still, she had done it for him, and if
his mother loved it, then maybe Debbie would love it
too. He would do it for HER... even if he didn't really
want to.
He rolled, to make room for her on the bed and she
arranged herself like she had the other day, opening
herself wide for him. He got on his hands and knees and
slowly let his face get closer to her sex as he looked
closely at her pussy. He noticed things he'd never
noticed before... fine hairs sprouting above her clit.
Her clit itself was enlarged and clearly visible. He
looked at it closely and realized it looked something
like the tip of his own cock, with a tiny foreskin and
an even tinier prick head peeping out of that hood of
skin.
He sniffed.
The guys at school had talked about fish smell, but she
didn't smell anything like any fish he'd ever been
around. Her scent was strong, but not bad. One time
he'd sniffed her panties which she'd left in the hamper
and this didn't smell anything like that had either.
Her fingers appeared in front of his eyes, pulling her
pussy lips open, showing him the dark cavern that they
hid. He decided to touch the tip of his tongue to her
clit first... to see what the taste was like. He
couldn't see, and he pressed his stiff tongue against
the organ much harder than he had planned.
"Ah..UHU" she grunted and her hips thrust up off the
bed, smashing into his face.
Robby's face was wet with her juices. Her odor was all
around him now, and his lips were wet. He licked them
automatically and found a spicy pungent taste that
wasn't anything like what he had expected.
She tasted GOOD!
Robby thrust his mouth and nose into her pussy, this
time intending to press hard. His tongue led the way,
seeking that dark hole she had exposed, and finding it.
He tried to stick his tongue into that hole as far as
he could. Even if it was only an inch or a little more,
her reaction was more than satisfactory. Her voice made
a grating sound and she cried out, her hands gripping
his hair painfully. The fact that they pulled turned
what had sounded like pain into something that he knew
she loved. She jerked her hips around so much that his
face lost contact and bounced against the inside of one
thigh.
Robby went to his elbows, sliding his hands under his
sister's buttocks and then he made an "o" of his lips
and aimed for her clit. When he felt his lips close
around it, he sucked and pulled her up into his face so
she couldn't wiggle loose. Her clit came farther into
his mouth than he thought it would and he found he
could nip it with his teeth. Knowing that it would hurt
if he bit her too hard, he alternated with sucking
hard, nipping with his teeth, and swabbing it with his
tongue.
Debbie went crazy. She screamed and her arms and head
flailed. She sat up and then flopped back down. Her
voice sounded agonized, but with a tone that said she
was NOT in agony. Her pussy provided so much juice as
she came that his face made wet squelching sounds, like
a foot in a shoe filled with water as someone walked in
it.
Debbie finally lay limp, her multiple orgasms having
robbed her of the strength to do anything except drag
breath into her lungs. Her legs lay akimbo, her pussy
lips swollen with blood as Robby finally pushed himself
away from her. He was painfully hard and, as he sat on
his heels, he stroked his prick, staring at the
luscious pussy he could still taste on his lips. Debbie
looked up at him through her lashes, anticipating what
she knew he'd do. And, when he groaned and leaned
forward, she mustered the strength to lift her pussy up
to meet his cock as it began unloading his semen-packed
balls. He only meant to splash her pussy lips with his
goo. But, as a half ounce of his thick spunk rocketed
out of his prick, the head kissed those lips and
sealed. All that spunk shot right up into her pussy.
The only thing that saved what was left of her
virginity was that, feeling that warm bath inside her
pussy, she went weak again, and dropped her buttocks
back to the bed.
Then, as he collapsed on top of her, instead of his
prick boring into her pussy, it lay at the gates and
the rest of his spunk went where he'd intended it to
go, soaking her pussy lips and mons as he continued to
spurt.
Chapter Eight
=============
An hour had passed since the teens discovered oral sex.
Satisfied for the moment and cleaned up, Robby and
Debbie entered the doors of the Howard County Public
Library, where Penny Martin, Head Librarian, proudly
waited to serve the few customers who came her way.
Penny had only graduated from college with her
cherished library science degree about six months
earlier. The placement service at the college had found
her a job offer before she even graduated. That she'd
landed a job as "head librarian" almost immediately had
impressed her parents. What she hadn't told them was
that it was in a hick town in a remote county that
couldn't pay for more than one staff member. So while
she was the "head" librarian, she was also the only
librarian. Still, it was a job, and the cost of living
in Nettleton was workable, and she was basically
thrilled.
Some of the thrill wore off when she realized there
might actually be days when the only patron she served
might be old Mr. Breckenridge, who was retired and had
nothing better to do than sit in the library and sleep
with a book open in his lap. He did that pretty much
every day, especially since the pretty young librarian
had been hired. He was there today, in fact. Or perhaps
the hospital would call and ask her to bring around a
selection of books for the patients to read while they
were laid up. It being summer time, no students came to
do any research. They all had better things to do.
So, when Debbie and Robby walked in, they got good
service.
Well, they got good service until Penny found out what
they wanted. She could recite Dewey Decimal System
numbers in her sleep, including history, but she
quickly found that the history section of her library
was a bit sparse when it came to history concerning the
town, county and even state. There was a really nice
selection of books on World War II which, she noticed,
were actually in the wrong section, but she had nothing
on the old house the town was named for.
All three of them were so intent on searching for a
book on the shelves that they were startled when old
Mr. Breckenridge shuffled up the aisle.
"Couldn't help but hear what these young'uns wanted."
he said, his voice a little too loud. "Ain't a goin'
tuh find it here." he added.
"Oh?" inquired Penny.
"Yup" said Breckenridge. "All that's down in tha
basement." he slurred. "Madge packed it all away 'cause
nobody ever wanted it."
Madge was the previous head librarian, who had retired
herself and never ever came to the library after she
locked the doors the final time.
"Ah kin show ya" he grinned. "Ah helped her put it down
there."
The Howard County Public Library was, in reality, a
house built in the twenties, that had been taken over
by the county for taxes during the Great Depression.
Walls had been knocked down and replaced with pillars,
making it into two rooms, one quite large and the other
quite small. A bathroom had been added when inside
plumbing came into vogue and the narrow steep wooden
staircase still lurked behind a warped door in the wall
that had been a kitchen wall in years past. The tiny
kitchen now acted as an office.
Penny had descended those stairs a couple of times
since being hired, but she didn't go down there often.
The books she had found down there weren't suitable for
display, being musty, thick with absorbed moisture, and
falling apart for the most part. There were boxes and
boxes of records of who had checked out what over the
years. Basically it was all junk, but the cobwebs kept
Penny at bay. She hated spiders. Her original plans to
clean it all out had been put on hold.
Now, as she led the way down the stairs, and pulled the
string that lit the bare bulb that hung by a cord from
the floor joists above, she shivered. She made room for
the kids, who came next, and Mr. Breckenridge, who
eased his aching joints down the stairs entirely too
slowly to suit Penny.
"Ain't as spry as I used to be." he mumbled, peering
into the semi-darkness of the basement. "Should be over
that-a-way." he pointed with a skinny finger, on which
rested a discolored and too-long fingernail.
"That-a-way" turned out to be a far corner, which very
little light penetrated into. Penny looked at the kids,
who looked perfectly at home, as if they prowled around
in dusty, damp and cobwebbed environs on a regular
basis. She shuddered again.
"I don't want to get my clothes all dirty." she
complained.
"That's OK." said Robby. "I'll move anything that needs
moving."
Truth be told, they'd never have found anything if he
hadn't been for Homer Breckenridge, who had a memory
better than his appearance might have suggested. He
shuffled unerringly to the far corner and pointed
again.
"Look behind them boxes there." he said.
Robby had to move several boxes overflowing with old
cards that had names scrawled on them, with dates after
them. Why someone had kept them was a mystery, but had
they been studied, they would have provided a
remarkable history of what the townspeople of years
gone by had read. Clouds of dust billowed into the air
as Robby restacked boxes on top of other boxes. Finally
he uncovered one battered wooden crate that was neatly
packed with ledgers, a few books, and a number of
yellowed newspapers.
Penny directed them to take the crate upstairs, trying
to get out of the basement as quickly as she could.
Once upstairs again, they unpacked the crate on a
table. Homer lifted several of the folded newspapers
and opened them with a surprisingly gentle touch. They
all appeared to be editions of "The Nettleton Crier".
There were no pictures, to speak of, but huge printed
headlines were scattered all over the front, as well as
some drawings that depicted various things, including
advertisements for various medicines and other items
for sale by merchants of the town. Debbie's eyes were
drawn to a hand drawing of a woman wearing a hat and a
dress just like Debbie had put on during dress-up play
many times. It looked much more full below the waist
than it did when Debbie wore hers.
The ledgers turned out to contain information about the
mines. One thin book, in surprisingly good condition
was titled "The Nettleton Empire". It was a handwritten
history of the Nettleton mining operation. The last
entry said only "Company sold in probate after the
tragic incident."
Penny, her curiosity peaked by actually having
something to do, began leafing through the book, while
Homer pointed out various newspaper articles.
"I 'member some of that now." he wheezed. "Sad times
they were. Those poor little babies."
"What babies?" asked Debbie.
Homer's eyes went out of focus. "They wuz two little
'uns left after the momma and daddy wuz killed. They
caught them two what dun it and 'lectrocuted 'em.
'Lectrocuted the feller what hired 'em too. Bunch of us
drove up to the pen'tentiary and stood outside to watch
the lights dim. I wuz there when they fried. Saw the
whole thing."
"What?" asked Robby shocked. "What are you talking
about?"
"Killers... hired killers" said Homer explosively.
"Snuck in thar and kilt the parents one night. They wuz
a little boy and a little gurl in there when it
happened. Found 'em hidin' somewhere in that old place.
Them killers said they'd have dun fer the kids too if'n
they'd a bin able tuh find 'em." He sighed. "Them kids
found thar kin all slaughtered and raised the cry."
Debbie gasped. She had been leafing through newspapers
and pointed at one.
"Here it is!" she said.
Everyone peered at the huge type on the front page.
"PILLARS OF COMMUNITY SLAIN IN VILE MURDER!" screamed
the headline, which looked to be three inches tall and
took up the top quarter of the page. The story went on
to describe, in gruesome detail, what the town
constable had found when he was summoned to the
Nettleton Mansion by a hysterical woman employed as a
cook by the Nettletons. The cook was in her room in the
carriage house when Robert E. Nettleton, age six and
his sister Elizabeth R. Nettleton, age four, burst into
the room crying and covered in blood. She had fearfully
gone with them to find their parents slaughtered in the
master bedroom. The children had been hugging their
dead parents, trying to get them to get up, and when
that failed, had gone to get the cook. The
investigation had revealed the house had been ransacked
and a number of items appeared to be missing. All other
staff members in the mansion had been gone that night,
to a dance in town.
There was another article on the same page in one
corner that reminded readers of the death of an
unidentified Nettleton boy at the hands of would-be
kidnappers and, later, the murder of Constance
Nettleton in the very same room that this crime had
taken place in, some forty years earlier. It was
suggested that a demonic presence inhabited the house,
and that this demon required history to repeat itself.
The newspapers had been stacked in date order, and the
next day's edition also had a banner headline.
"MURDERERS CAUGHT RED HANDED!" That story told how a
posse had been formed and had fanned out across the
county using the technology of the day, the internal
combustion automobile to speed them to points where a
cordon had been established. When two blood spattered
men carrying a gunny sack were observed, they were
taken into custody and found to have the Nettleton
silver in the bag, as well as other items identified by
servants as property of the slain Nettletons.
Another slightly smaller headline at the right lower
corner of the front page said:
"NETTLETON ORPHANS REMOVED FROM SAD STRUCTURE."
That story was about how there were no relatives to be
found, and the children had been removed to a boarding
house where they would be cared for until their
murdered father's will could be located. That such an
instrument existed was clear, since Mr. Wilfred Tower,
an attorney in the town, swore before the circuit judge
that he had executed such a document within the last
year. The will had not yet been found.
In another paper with a later date, there was another
front page story with a drawing of a man, strapped in a
large wooden chair, his head hooded, with wires going
from the chair to a wall. The story told of the swift
trial and execution of the murderers, and the man who
hired them to perform their grisly task. It also
verified Homer's assertion that the henchmen had
admitted they'd have killed the children too if they'd
been able to find them in the house.
The next paper in line was dated five months later,
with much smaller headlines, but still on the front
page. That story told of the finding of the will.
Details of what was in the will were sketchy, but the
disposition of the two orphans was discussed,
identifying one Margaret Swales as having been
identified in the will as the guardian of the children.
The next paper didn't appear to have anything in it at
first glance, but, on the inside they found a small
article that had the headline:
"Orphaned waifs' ordeal continues" That story told of
Mrs. Swales inability to care for the Nettleton
children due to her confinement to a sanitarium, and of
their assignment of a new guardian. The entire article
was no more than seven lines long.
There were additional articles, quite small on average,
that mentioned this or that milestone in a Nettleton
child's life. There was one that spoke of their entry
into the public school system, using only "the
Nettleton children" as identifying data, and another
one later that heralded Robert Nettleton's graduation
from school and his impending assignment as a
missionary in "blackest Africa".
By the time they were finished going through the main
documents it was clear that, what had riveted the
townspeople in the beginning, took on less and less
significance as time went on. The last newspaper
article they could find was about the house itself, and
how two young men had been apprehended trying to sneak
into it on a dare. The article said it had been
shuttered up until the return of "the present owner",
who was not identified by name.
Debbie looked at her Bulova wristwatch. They had been
reading for two hours, and there was a lot of materials
in the crate no one had examined yet.
"Miss Martin, can you keep this somewhere for us until
we can come back?" she asked.
Penny looked askance at the crate. "As far as I'm
concerned you can take it all with you." She dusted her
hands by clapping them together. "That doesn't really
belong in the library." she pronounced. "If anything it
should be in the museum or someplace like that... if
anybody wants it at all." She had, after all, only been
in town for six months, and had no curiosity about the
Nettleton Mansion. In truth, she had never even been by
the place.
Debbie began repacking the crate immediately. She
planned on taking it home and going through it more
carefully. They had learned a lot, but she knew there
was more information in there and she wanted to know
that too. Robby carried the crate on his shoulder as
they walked back to the house.
Homer Breckenridge tried to accompany them, giving them
unasked for advice.
"You'uns stay clear of that place. It's hainted. The
poor souls of all them murdered folk drift through
there at night. Ah seen em mahsef."
Debbie looked at him curiously. "When did you see
them?" she asked.
The old man smiled, revealing he had lost some teeth
along the way. "Ah used to walk by there sometimes. Ah
seen lights through them winders. Cain't nobody get in
there any more. Them lights is the ghosts of all them
Nettletons, you mark mah words."
Debbie had a pretty good idea of what those lights
actually were. Those lights the old man had seen were
from the candles she and Robby had used to explore.
They hadn't thought anybody would be looking through
the trees at the old place, and hadn't been all that
careful about using those candles.
"How cum ya'll want to know 'bout that place anyways?"
asked Homer.
"There's a man moving in there." said Debbie, still
thinking of whether anyone else might have seen their
candles.
"Ya don't say!" said Homer. "Well, he'd have tuh be a
Nettleton. They ain't never sold that house. It's got
tuh be that little orphan boy iffen you ask me." He
scratched at his beard. "Mov'in in there huh?" he
mused. "I never heered 'bout that."
Robby was uncomfortable at the man's interest in the
manor. "I think it's supposed to be a secret or
something." he said.
Homer stopped. His joints ached from all the walking
they'd already done. He was thinking now about a pint
of whiskey he'd hidden away at Miss Dixie's boarding
house, where he had a room, and where alcohol was
strictly forbidden. "Wahl, you'uns member whut ah told
yuh. They's ghosts 'round that place. And if they's a
Nettleton back there, then there'll be death 'round
that place too. Mark mah words!"
The two teens hurried on, leaving the old man behind.
"You think he's right?" asked Robby, puffing a little.
The crate was heavy and awkward on his shoulder.
"He must be." said Debbie. "At least about it being a
Nettleton moving back in. That's what Mister Smith
said. Who else would even want to?" she asked. "But
that doesn't explain how she knows Smith. How could she
have known him?"
"I don't know, but didn't she say Smith had been gone
somewhere for a long time. And didn't the paper say
that boy went into the missionaries? Maybe Smith is the
little boy!" Robby was excited now.
"That still doesn't say how Mom would know him." said
Debbie doubtfully.
"Well, Mom's about the same age, and the paper said he
went to public school. Maybe they went to school
together." Robby sounded convinced already.
By the time they got home they expected their mother
within the hour. For some reason they didn't want to
share what they'd found with her, so they hid the crate
in the garage. They figured it would be safe there
because that room was just slightly too full of junk to
park the car in unless it was going to storm or hail or
something like that. Just in case, they piled an old
tarp on top of it. Then they had to clean up. Both had
smudges on their skin and clothing from the dusty
library basement. Robby wanted to play as they changed
clothes and used wash cloths to clean their arms and
faces, but Debbie pushed him away.
"We don't have time. You'll have to be patient and
wait." She smiled at the look on his face. Her mother
kept telling HER to be patient. Somehow it felt good to
make somebody else wait for something he wanted too.
She teased him by rubbing her hand across his crotch,
and then ran, laughing from the bathroom as he gave
chase.
=======================================================
==
Ramona drove home quickly, speeding a little. She
wanted to go see Robert again tonight... couldn't wait
to see him in fact... but there were the children to
deal with. She knew they were curious and sensed they
were suspicious. If she didn't have an iron-clad reason
to go visit "Smith" they'd get even more suspicious.
She had played over and over again in her mind the
various ways she could introduce "Smith" as their
uncle, and had tried to imagine how she would tell them
of their hidden heritage. In every scenario she had
dreamed up it all fell to pieces. She had no idea how
she'd end up doing it. There was dread in her about
that.
That dread, in juxtaposition with her excitement at
meeting with Robert again... being loved by Robert
again... made her jumpy and irritable during the day.
Her co-workers chalked it up to her change of jobs, and
to having to deal with the strange man who represented
Robert Nettleton.
After having rushed to get home, when she parked,
Ramona sat in the car for a few moments, ambivalent
about getting out. She still hadn't thought of a way to
break away from her children and go see Robert. It was
when she reached for her briefcase that the idea came
to her.
She got out of the car to the sound of laughter and
screams. Debbie came running around the corner of the
house, looking over her shoulder, her hair flying. She
was flushed and laughing and Ramona's heart lurched in
her chest. Her daughter was so beautiful and healthy
and carefree that it almost made her cry. She had to
drop the briefcase and put her hands out to avoid being
run down by her daughter, who didn't know that either
her mother or the car were there.
Just as Debbie ran into her mother's arms, Robby came
charging around the corner too, growling and roaring
like some kind of animal. But the look on his face was
one of glee, and not anger.
There was a general pile-up of bodies as Ramona was
pushed up against the car by her two children. There
were gasps and shouts from all three, who ended up in a
group hug that wiggled and moved as Robby tried to
tickle first his sister and then his mother too,
growling again.
"STOP!" laughed Ramona, pushing both of them away in
self defense. Her children moved away from her, but
eyed each other warily.
"What on earth has gotten into you two?" she said, her
heart thudding in her chest as the adrenaline rush of
being run into subsided.
"Robby was being mean to me." whined Debbie in a voice
that made it clear she wasn't in the least bit angry or
upset.
"You'll know when I'm REALLY being mean to you!" he
growled. "I'll SHOW you!" and he darted for her, his
hands reaching for her ribs.
Then she was off and running like a deer again, back
around the same corner, with Robby in full chase, like
they were ten instead of almost grown. Ramona grinned
and bent over to pick up her briefcase, shaking her
head and going toward the door. Life was good, she
decided, regardless of the ups and downs they were
experiencing. Life was just pretty good.
While their mother went into the house to fix supper
Debbie led her brother on a chase into the woods next
to the fence to the manor. She tripped on a root and
flailed her arms for balance, going down on the soft
humus covering of the forest floor. Naturally, Robby
caught up with her. She gripped the black iron of the
fence bars and gained her feet just as his hands went
on either side of her, imprisoning her as his body
crushed hers against the fence.
"Got you!" he panted.
"Only because I tripped." she said in a fake sulk.
Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she, too,
breathed in heavily. Her hands went to his waist. The
chase had awakened something in them that their ancient
ancestors might have felt during a pursuit like that.
The purpose of their ancestors' chase, however, was not
for fun and games, but to make sexual conquest. Debbie
responded to that ancient drive. She had been caught,
and she surrendered. She leaned forward to kiss her
brother.
Robby responded, and their kiss turned torrid as their
hands roamed all over each other's bodies. The drive to
reap the fruits of the chase was strong in both of
them. As Debbie felt her brother's fingers at the
buttons of her blouse, though, a voice cut through the
stillness of the forest.
"What do we have here?"
The teens sprang apart as if they had been goosed with
a bare 220 volt wire, and whirled to find Smith,
dressed in what they now knew was his disguise, his
black hair and wild beard covering his face, and his
body draped in the ill fitting black trench coat.
"I have found two little rabbits, playing in my woods."
said the gravelly voice, which they also knew was not
the man's normal one.
Both youths were wild eyed and panicked at having been
caught in an amorous embrace. And this man knew they
were brother and sister! Their world teetered on the
edge of disaster.
In such circumstances, there is a normal response the
body makes. It is sometimes called the "fight or flight
syndrome", and the body prepares itself automatically
for either of those two options. Normally, that means
the body, usually in it's placid state, is infused with
various hormones and chemicals on a more or less
instant basis, and the results can be astonishing.
Adrenaline is one of the primary hormones released
during a stressful incident. Debbie's body had already
produced a measurable quantity of adrenaline in the
excitement of the chase and the expectation that sexual
activity was going to occur. Now, the fright and
anguish she felt gave her an extra shot.
Basically, she was hopped up on hormones to the point
that her response was to fight, rather than flee. A
second consideration might have been that Smith was on
the other side of the iron fence, providing a certain
amount of unstated security. A third aspect of the
confrontation was that her unconscious mind keyed in on
Smith's use of the term "my woods", which was in direct
contravention to how Debbie thought about "her woods".
"YOU HORRIBLE OLD MAN!" she shouted, her mind relating
to the disguise, rather than the much younger man who
wore it. "HOW DARE YOU SPY ON US IN OUR WOODS!" In her
frustration and rage at her present circumstances, she
bent to the forest floor and her hand grabbed a fistful
of matted leaves and soil, which she then flung through
the bars. The detritus fluttered, expanding, and fell
to the ground inside the fence, feet short of hitting
the man.
"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" screamed the girl, stomping
her feet in a tantrum of rage. "YOU'RE RUINING
EVERYTHING!"
Smith didn't move when she threw the handful of leaves
at him. His beard made it difficult to tell what his
face looked like, but it moved in ways that made it
look like he was smiling.
"Well, well, the little rabbit has fangs, she does." He
stared at the two, looking at Robby, who was poised on
the balls of his feet. "So you feel these are your
woods too." he mused. "That, little rabbit is a very
interesting thing to me. Perhaps you could tell me why
that is the way you feel?"
His complete dismissal of Debbie's hostile speech and
actions were unsettling, as if he felt completely
secure, and was neither offended or worried about them.
And, adrenaline is a short acting hormone. It breaks
down in the blood stream after releasing glucose for
the muscles to use, leaving the host much weaker... and
just as suddenly as it made the host feel strong and
ready to fight.
But there was a little fight left in Debbie. "I
wouldn't tell YOU anything!" she snarled.
Smith's beard moved as if he were smiling again. "Well,
then, perhaps your mother might be able to shed some
light on this issue? Perhaps I should mention to her
that I met you in... your woods?"
His unspoken threat to tell their mother just what he
saw them doing in... their woods... hung heavily in the
still air.
Debbie looked stricken, her face red, and tears flushed
her eyes so much she couldn't see. She used the heels
of her hands to rub her eyes dry and felt fury that she
cried in front of this man. Her emotions were at such a
fever pitch though, that she was virtually speechless
now.
Robby stepped forward. "We've done nothing to harm
you." he said, his voice heavy. "You have no call
to..." He couldn't put into words what changes Smith
might be able to make in their lives.
Smith, standing so placidly on the other side of the
fence, shrugged his bulky shoulders.
"It is not my intention to cause either of you pain."
he said seriously. "Quite the opposite, in fact. But
discussion of that must be for another time." He looked
down the fence line in both directions. "I have my
survey to finish. Perhaps we can discuss this at some
time when emotions are not so high."
Debbie's emotions were like the blips of a heart
monitor, jumping from low to high, though in a much
less steady beat than a healthy heart would make.
"Please..." she pleaded. "Please don't tell our
mother." Tears ran down her cheeks.
"Do not worry, little rabbit." said the man, turning to
face down the fence line. "I may be a horrible old man,
but I have a heart."
Then, ignoring them, he trudged along the fence away
from them.
Left alone, the threat receding from them, and their
sudden gift of strength just as suddenly gone, the
teens slumped. Debbie flowed into her brother's arms,
but this time it was for comfort, rather than erotic
thrill.
"What are we going to do?" she moaned. It was a
question she was asking a lot these days, but it didn't
seem to have an answer.
Chapter Nine
============
Ramona noticed the subdued demeanor of her children at
supper. Gone was their carefree exuberance and the
laughter that went with it. She started to ask them
what was wrong, but decided not to. In some ways her
children seemed like strangers lately, but she chalked
that up to puberty and the inner turmoil that all
teenagers faced sooner or later as they grew to
adulthood.
She had been happy that they were so light hearted,
since she thought that would be a buffer to her
announcement that she had some papers for Smith to sign
and needed to take them to him that night. The result
of her statement, made in passing, was not what she'd
expected. She'd expected Debbie to make some snide
comment about Smith, or object in some way. She'd
expected Robby to just sit, silent, as he did so often
when Smith was discussed.
Instead, Debbie turned red and shifted in her chair
silently. It was Robby who spoke.
"I thought that was your job." he said, his fork
suspended halfway to his mouth. "Why didn't you take
them to him today?" He, too, looked uncomfortable, but
not angry.
Ramona hadn't thought she'd be questioned like that,
and her mind scrabbled for a believable answer.
"Well... um... they weren't ready in time." she said.
Robby, of course, knew exactly why his mother wanted to
go see Smith. And, while the sight of the man rutting
into his beautiful mother turned him on, it was also
distasteful in some way he couldn't understand. The
image of his mother's milky white breasts shaking as
the man slammed into her was burned into his memory, as
was her assent to being made pregnant. That just wasn't
the woman who was sitting across the table from him
now, and he didn't want her to go be that woman again.
"So, have him sign them tomorrow." he said, his voice
tinged with surliness.
"I need to process them tomorrow." said his mother.
"And I'm right here, next door. It'll save time if I
take care of them tonight." She couldn't understand her
children’s resistance to this, and it was a pivotal
part of her plan to see her brother more often. She
pushed that plan.
"In fact, I plan on seeing him a lot while I'm here at
home. It's so much quicker than driving all the way
over here during the day and wading through all those
contractors." It sounded eminently reasonable to her,
despite the fact that the bank was only six blocks from
the manor.
"Yeah, right." said Robby heavily.
What was running through his mind was the fact that
Smith knew the twins didn't like him, and that Smith
had a piece of information that could ruin things even
more than he had ruined things already. It was
inevitable, based on what she had been doing with him,
that she would see him again. It was also inevitable,
in Robby's mind, that he would tell her what he had
seen. At the same time, he hadn't seemed offended or
outraged by what he'd caught them doing, and that
seemed odd somehow too. His statement that he meant the
siblings no harm also twisted in Robby's mind, because
it didn't make sense either. Debbie had all but
declared war on him, but he acted like nothing was
wrong.
Ramona wanted to hear assent from her children... to
have their permission to go next door more or less
regularly, and because of that, she heard Robby's
comment as grudging acceptance that her plan did, in
fact, make sense. She missed completely the ambivalence
flashing across her son's face.
Ramona made herself wash the dishes before she went to
see her brother. While she felt no shame or guilt for
what they shared, she knew that her feelings were
driving her and she didn't like the feeling of not
being in control. There had been a lot of upheaval in
her world of late, and "deciding" what to do and when
to do it helped her cope with the sensation of being
adrift on a sea with no rudder.
But, as soon as her hands were dry, she picked up her
briefcase and sang out that she'd be back in a while.
Not waiting for an answer she hurried out to the car.
She could have walked, but she felt like driving up to
the house would look better in case some passerby saw
her enter the estate.
As she sat in the car her pussy was already getting
wet.
=======================================================
==
Debbie had been keeping tabs on her mother, and as soon
as she heard the car door slam she ran to her brother's
room. He was lying on the bed, a book open, but his
eyes were staring at the ceiling.
"Come on" she said, her voice hushed for some reason.
"She's going over there."
"Why should we go?" he asked, his voice dull. "We know
what she's going to do."
"He might tell her!" she snapped. "We have to know if
he tells her! Now come ON!"
Debbie grabbed his wrist and pulled as he sat up and
rolled off the bed. When they got outside she kept
pulling him as he tried to lag.
"Come ON Robby!" she snarled. "You want me to go by
myself?"
For some reason the idea of Debbie being in the house
alone... with Smith there... didn't sit well with
Robby. He increased his pace. Soon they were slipping
through the woods behind the house. It wasn't dark yet,
and they had to wait while they surveyed the back of
the house. Even more had changed since the last time
they'd been there. The house was beginning to look like
a house, rather than the wreck it had been ever since
they'd put their eyes on it. Eventually they felt safe
in going out into the open to reach the cellar steps.
They darted down into the cellar and stopped only long
enough to let their eyes adapt a little bit to the
darkness. Then it was through the secret door and down
the tunnel to the thick door with the ring on it. They
eased it open to minimize the squeal of the hinges.
Robby made a mental note for possibly the fifth or
sixth time to bring oil with him the next time he came.
At the top of the stairs they stopped, unconsciously
trying to get their breathing under control before
going further. Debbie stepped forward first. She felt
the slight tug as her ankle hit something, but the
sensation went away almost immediately as the thread
that had been stretched across the narrow hallway
snapped. There was the sound of a dull thud up ahead of
them somewhere, but no other noises, and they crept
forward.
They heard voices in the dining room and stopped to see
their mother standing, her briefcase hanging from one
hand, her arm straight as Smith, without his disguise
this time, kissed her firmly. His right hand cupped her
left breast through her blouse.
When the kiss was over she sighed.
"I told the kids there were papers to be signed. I told
them I'd have to do that a lot."
"Much has changed, dear Rami" said the man. "Things may
not need to be kept secret much longer. I have much to
tell you."
Both teens took in panicked breaths of air at that, but
they had no chance to do more.
"Then tell me in the bedroom." said their mother
salaciously, "as we do what I love most in the world."
She set down the briefcase and pulled her lover toward
the stairs, much like Debbie had pulled her own brother
out of the house and toward the manor only moments
before. There was more talk, but the kids were already
moving toward the staircase that would lead them to the
bedroom where they had witnessed what was about to
happen again to their mother. They pressed their faces
against the peep holes as their mother and Smith
entered the room. Debbie's gut tightened as she saw
that her mother's blouse was already unbuttoned, and
that she had worn no bra to go "have papers signed."
Another lie. She'd known it, of course, but the sight
of her mother's real intentions made a knot in her
stomach.
Smith, though, was not looking at his lover. Instead,
his head swiveled around the room, his eyes low.
"Oh look" he said calmly. "A picture has fallen from
the wall."
"Never mind that Bobby, I need you now." demanded
Ramona, shrugging her blouse off and draping it across
a chair. "Wouldn't you rather look at me than some old
picture?" she asked coquettishly.
Now Smith's eyes went to his sister.
"Most assuredly" he said, smiling. He went to her and
leaned over to suckle at an exposed and stiff nipple,
his hand smoothing across the buttocks of her slacks.
He kissed his way up to Ramona's lips as her fingers
went to the buttons of his own shirt and began undoing
them.
Robby, his gut tight too, couldn't, for some reason,
watch his mother being ravished again. He hadn't yet
analyzed the emotions associated with watching his
beautiful mother be made love to. He hadn't yet
realized that the twisting in his guts was because some
part of him wanted to be the man rutting into her soft,
white body. He pushed back from the wall as emotions
raced through him and suddenly realized his prick was
stone hard. His eyes went to his sister and he
automatically retreated into something that brought
them both pleasure... something that made the world
feel right. He stepped behind her, reaching around to
cup her breasts and press his erection into her
buttocks, which were jutted out as she leaned forward
to peer through the peep holes.
"What are you DOING?" she hissed.
"I don't want to watch them." he said. "I'd rather do
this to you."
His hands slid to her waist and up under her shirt to
her own unfettered breasts, feeling for and squeezing
her nipples slightly.
"Not here." she moaned. "Not now."
She was trying to listen, though, and Smith was saying
something. She didn't have the time to make her brother
stop. And the feelings coursing through her loins at
what she was witnessing made what he was doing feel
wonderful too.
"Shhh" she said to the wall, even though it was she who
was making the most noise. "They're saying something."
Robby let his hands play across his sister's breasts,
squeezing them and flicking the nipples, which stood up
proudly to be squeezed and flicked. He pulled her shirt
up to give his hands room to move without catching in
the cloth and bunched it under her arm pits. She ground
her buttocks against his hardon and he let his hands
slide down her flat stomach to the fastening of her
jeans shorts.
"Nooo" she whined.
"Come on" he whispered in her ear. "It'll feel good.
What are they saying?"
What Smith was saying was: "Slow down, my sweet. As I
said I have much to tell you."
Ramona wasn't interested in talk. She wanted her pussy
stuffed, and her clitty abused.
"I can't stay long." she moaned. "Can't it wait?"
"I don't think so." he said, cupping her breasts,
unable himself to keep his hands off her. "I think your
children know more than they have admitted."
That caught Debbie's full attention and she froze as
Robby got her shorts unbuttoned and started to slid his
hand into her panties. Her automatic, completely
unthinking response was to step to one side with each
foot, giving his fingers room to play. But her
attention was all on Smith.
"What?" her mood interrupted by mention of her
children, Ramona's passion eased a bit. "What do you
mean?"
"I told you someone had been in this house. Now I have
reason to believe it's your children." he said flatly.
"What?!" asked Ramona, astonished. "That's impossible!"
she said automatically.
Robby, not knowing what was being said, let his middle
finger slip between his sister's slick labia and felt
for her joy button while his other hand went back to
cup a breast. Debbie, too enraptured by what she was
hearing to pass the words along to her brother, held
her breath.
"I saw them by the fence this afternoon." he said.
Debbie felt terror so great that what her brother was
doing to her didn't penetrate her consciousness at all.
"That doesn't mean they've come in this house." said
Ramona. "They've played in the woods since they were
children."
"Played..." said Smith. "An interesting word, that." He
looked directly at the bookcase, behind which Debbie
and Robby were standing, as if he somehow knew she was
there and watching.
Debbie pushed off the wall, against her brother's
unyielding body. His back hit the opposite wall because
there was nowhere else for him to go.
"He's going to tell her." said Debbie, her voice
choked.
"What?" asked Robby, thinking so intently about where
his hand were, and how good if felt to feel her butt
pressing against him, that he couldn't concentrate
fully on what she'd just said.
Because Debbie had backed up, she didn't hear what
Smith said next. It probably wouldn't have made any
difference anyway, based on what happened next. There
wouldn't have been time to do anything about it.
"Rami, darling, don't you remember the passages? The
secret ways?"
Ramona's head snapped backward as if she had been
slapped. Her last memory of the house was stepping
quietly through the secret hallway between the walls,
as her parents screamed. They had hidden there as the
screams turned to gurgling moans and then stopped. They
had waited in the dark until they had heard no noises
for a long time. Robert had just barely been able to
reach the release that let them through the wall into
their parents' bedroom. There had been bright red
spatters everywhere, but they hadn't understood it was
blood. Blood came in small drops, from the prick of a
thorn, not in amounts so much that it looked like
paint. She remembered her mother's eyes, open and
staring, but her mother wouldn't say anything. That's
what had frightened Ramona, and when she had started
crying.
She shook her head. She hadn't thought of the secret
places in the house for a long long time. She watched
as Robert suddenly stepped toward the bookcase and
reached for the hidden latch.
Debbie, horrified by what she was sure was about to be
told to her mother, leaned forward again just in time
to see Smith, facing her, his body only a foot away.
There was a loud snap, and then a creak, and the wall
in front of her moved away from her face. She fell
forward as the support she had been depending on
disappeared. Only her brother's hands, one cupping her
naked breast, and the other with its finger buried in
her pussy, saved her from falling forward.
She squinted as she was suddenly bathed in light.
"Ahhhh, said Smith in his disguised gravelly voice.
"The rabbits have returned."
================================================
Ramona looked unbelievingly at what was exposed when
the bookcase swung open on creaking hinges. There, to
her astonished gaze, was revealed her daughter, whose
shirt was up around her neck. Her arms were out in
front of her like she had pushed the bookcase open.
Ramona’s mind did a little dancing twist. Something
wasn’t right here. She was finally able to process the
information that, despite the fact that both of
Debbie’s hands were in plain sight, there was a hand
cupping one of her naked breasts AND another hand that
was down in the opening of her shorts, which were
unbuttoned and unzipped!
Ramona reeled as the body behind her daughter moved and
a head appeared over Debbie’s shoulder. She recognized
as Robby. The concept that her son was standing behind
her daughter, and that he was feeling her breast and
had his hand stuck down her pants was strange enough.
The fact that they were in the secret passageway of the
Nettleton Mansion made it all surreal. Then, the fact
that she was standing topless in the same house, and
that her children could see that, flipped some switch
in her brain that suggested a light nap might be in
order. Consciousness left her, her vision fading into
black as she crumpled to the floor.
At first Debbie couldn’t see anything because the
sudden light made her pupils slam closed. She knew,
though, that Smith and her mother could see her and she
was suddenly aware of exactly where Robby’s hands were.
She gave a little shriek and slapped at the hand
holding her breast, hitting the breast instead, which
hurt. Robby’s hand jerked away, though, and she pulled
at his other hand, dragging it out of her pants. Her
vision began to sharpen about the time her mother’s
collapsing body came into focus.
"MOMMY!" she screamed, and lurched forward into the
room, brushing past Smith as if he didn’t exist.
Robby stumbled forward too as the pressure pushing his
back against the wall vanished and he found himself
face to face with Smith. Well, perhaps face to face
wasn’t the best term, since Smith’s face was turned
toward Robby’s mother, who was lying in an boneless
pile on the floor. Both men surged as one toward the
fallen woman.
By the time they got there Debbie was already kneeling,
hovering over her mother’s body, her fingertips
touching Ramona’s face as she cried "MOMMY! MOMMY
WHAT’S WRONG?"
Smith knelt beside her, moving Ramona’s arms around to
a more comfortable position, laying her out on her
back.
"I think she has only fainted. Seeing you two was more
than she could deal with." he said, his face beside
Debbie’s.
"She looks DEAD!" wailed Debbie.
"No" said Smith forcefully. "See, she breathes." He
placed his hand flat on their mother’s naked chest,
between her breasts. Ramona moaned and her head rolled
to one side.
Debbie slapped at Smith’s arm forcefully.
"Get your hands OFF her!" she yelled. "This is all YOUR
FAULT!"
Smith rocked back on his calves. "Everything is my
fault, eh little rabbit?"
"AND STOP CALLING ME THAT!" yelled Debbie, turning her
pale face up with a horrible grimace.
"What then should I call you?" he asked, not at all
disturbed by her anger.
"HELP MY MOTHER!" demanded Debbie.
"Perhaps you should close your pants before she
awakens." suggested Smith. "I think perhaps seeing your
brother’s hands on your beautiful body may have been
part of why she is like this."
The shock of his words hit Debbie as if he’s slapped
her. She jumped to her feet and fumbled frantically
with her shorts, re-fastening what Robby had undone.
Then she tugged at her shirt, pulling it back down to
cover her breasts. She was about to shout at the man
again when her mother’s hazel eyes opened.
"Debbie?" she said, as if she wasn’t sure it really was
her daughter. Then her eyes went to the man beside her.
"Bobby?"
"I’m here my sweet." he said soothingly.
Ramona smiled, still not back to the present
completely. A face appeared over her brother’s
shoulder, peering down at her anxiously.
"Robby?" she said, her voice dreamlike. Then: "Bobby,
why are my children here?"
"I think they’ve been spying on us my darling." said
Smith, as if he were only saying that perhaps it would
be good to have tomatoes with supper.
"Spying?" came Ramona’s plaintive reply. Her eyes
cleared suddenly. The transition was stark and obvious
and astonishing.
"SPYING!?" she gasped. She lifted her head and saw her
own naked breasts. The magnitude of what was happening
penetrated and she rolled over, covering her head with
her arms. She began sobbing, her naked shoulders
shaking as if she were a rat in a terrier’s jaws.
Debbie’s primary concern, up to that point, had been
that she and Robby had been caught, and that her mother
would suddenly hate her for what they’d done. That self
centeredness was normal for a teenager, for a human at
almost any stage of development. And, when her mother
began sobbing, she naturally believed that it was from
the disappointment she had just been exposed to. Her
mother’s emotion dislodged all her own, and she began
to sniffle and cry too. Her anguish grew as she
realized that all her secrets were about to be made
bare, exposed to the mother she loved. She couldn’t
bear keeping them any longer though and she collapsed
on top of her mother, sobbing herself and begging for
forgiveness. She was crying so hard that she couldn’t
make her words intelligible, but she confessed to
everything she could think of that she had done to
disappoint her mother, begging for forgiveness.
The men watched as the firestorm of emotion swept
through the women. Robby felt twinges of guilt, but not
anything even close to what his sister was going
through. Some of that was because, while he had been
caught with his hands in his sister’s pants, he had
also caught this other man having sex with his mother.
Robby, as the man of the family, acknowledged or not,
felt quite a bit of ownership over his mother and had
no problem whatsoever interceding for her if he
perceived she was in some kind of danger or stress.
On the other hand, he recognized that their mother,
being caught as she had been, must feel like she had
let her children down. He agreed with that, though he
couldn’t articulate why, but he loved her, and his
forgiveness for that aspect of things was both sincere
and immediate.
The only person present who was not in a Gordian knot
of emotional turmoil was Robert Ellsworth Nettleton,
who among all of them, was the only person who knew
that sooner or later, when all this was sorted out,
there would be many more smiles and many fewer tears.
Or so he hoped.
He turned to look at Robby, whose attention was on his
mother. This was the first chance Robert had had to
really examine the boy. He was a strapping lad, that
much was plain, with strong features... Nettleton
features. There were old photographs put away in this
house somewhere that, he thought, would look a lot like
this boy. The dress in those pictures would be
different, of course, but there would be no doubt that
this boy was a Nettleton.
He couldn't see much of the girl, hunched over her
mother as she was. He had looked at her closely when he
had been to their home for that one disastrous meal.
She bore some resemblance to her mother, enough that
one would guess they were related, but she didn't
really look much like Ramona had when she had been that
age. Ramona, in those days, had maintained a hunched,
banal appearance. She had wanted to blend in, to be
overlooked. This girl could not be overlooked. She was
fresh and vibrant and beautiful in a way that made a
man's pants feel tight. And what a temper she had. Her
flashing eyes could cut deep if she wanted them to.
He turned to the boy. "See to your mother." he
commanded.
Robby jerked at the tone of command, and flashed a
dagger-like look at the man.
"She needs to know you still love her." added Robert.
Robby's eyes widened. "Of course I still love her." he
said. "But she probably doesn't love me any more."
"I suspect you are quite wrong in that assumption."
said Robert. "That we will see soon enough. But now she
needs you."
Robby went and knelt by his mother and sister, placing
a hand on Debbie's back and his mother's naked
shoulder. Her skin felt warm and smooth, like his
sister's.
Robert went to the discarded blouse and picked it up,
taking it to stand beside the three members of the
Franklin family. He handed it to Robby.
Ramona felt her daughter's body pressing on her back,
and her daughter's tears falling on her naked skin.
Debbie's litany of "I'm so sorry", said over and over
again penetrated her consciousness. She felt surprise,
and welcomed it as it displaced a measure of her own
shame. That helped her think a bit more clearly, and it
suddenly popped into her mind that her daughter... her
children... were here... in the mansion... in the
secret passageway she hadn't though of since that
horrible night when her brother had led her through it
to hide from the screams.
Her head twisted to the side and she tried to look
through her hair, which was stuck to her face by her
tears.
"What are YOU doing here?" she moaned between sobs.
Debbie wasn't in much better shape. She was
experiencing a wide range of emotions. There was the
anger at Smith, the lust her brother's hand had
awakened in her as he had stroked her behind the wall,
the shame of being caught peeking, the shame of being
caught with her brother's hands on her body, the
surprise and shock of being exposed in general, and the
fear that her mother wouldn't love her any more. They
all added up to a condition that almost left her
paralyzed, and she couldn't speak clearly. Instead she
just clung to her mother.
Robby felt a lot of those emotions too, but they didn't
affect him quite ass strongly as they did his sister.
What bubbled to the surface of his mind was Smith's
insistence that his mother needed him. He held out her
blouse, dangling it over the pair of women on the
floor, but didn't know what to do next.
It was Robert who brought a measure of organization to
the chaos that was immobilizing the three Franklins in
the room.
"Here!" he said forcefully. "Rami, sit up." His hand
went gently to Debbie's shoulder and put pressure on it
to get her off her mother's body. She was so upset that
she didn't even think to slap at that hated hand, or
demand that he remove it. She rose to her knees,
exposing her mother's naked back.
"Rami!" said Robert, again, forcefully. "Your son has
your blouse."
Ramona brushed her hair away from her face and saw
Robby then, the blouse dangling from his hand as he
knelt beside her. That blouse would cover her
nakedness, and her brain suggested she should get it
quickly. She pushed herself off the floor, sitting and
exposing her nakedness to her son as she snatched at
the garment. He took it back and spread it behind her,
as if he were helping her put on a coat and she
shrugged into it, pulling it closed across her breasts.
Her fingers fumbled at the buttons. She kept her head
down, unable to look at either of her children.
"I don't understand." she moaned.
"Things are not as they seem." said Robert. "Things are
not as bad as they seem." he restated.
That was such an odd statement that all three of the
others turned their faces to stare at him.
"Come" he said. "All of you. We have much to discuss.
Then, perhaps you will understand."
He moved toward the door, to lead them out of the
bedroom. They hesitated, but, unable to make their own
decisions about what to do next, they began to follow
him. He led them to the dining room, which had enough
chairs for them all and pulled one out for Ramona.
"Sit down." he suggested, and she sank into the chair.
He pulled another one out for Debbie, who balked and
stepped away from him.
"Sit!" he commanded.
Debbie looked at Robby, whose face was slack, as if he
weren't all there.
"SIT!" thundered Robert.
Debbie sank quickly into the chair and sighed with
relief as Smith stepped away from her.
"You too young man" he said. "Sit, and we'll talk."
Finally Debbie's voice was under her control.
"TALK!?" she yelled. "All this has happened and you
just want to TALK?!"
"You wish to know who I am, correct? You wish to know
why your mother and I love each other, yes? You have
many questions. I think talking is a good thing at this
time." he said simply.
Debbie was speechless. It was true that she wanted to
know all those things. But his clear offer to answer
them was so unsuspected, that she was unprepared to
actually ask a question.
"And," he went on smiling. "I think your mother should
understand what she just saw, and what I saw earlier
today." It was clear, at least to the children, that he
was referring to the unconventional relationship Debbie
had with Robby.
Debbie slumped, and the fear that had abated returned
full force.
Ramona listened to her brother's words, and she was
reminded of what she HAD seen... her son's hands... on
her daughter's body... touching her sexually. What had
he said about earlier?
"What?" she asked. Her head felt like there was a hive
of bees inside it, and she couldn't think because of
all the buzzing thoughts that caromed around in her
brain. "What happened earlier?"
"I told you I saw them by the fence this afternoon."
Ramona nodded, straining to remember what else he had
said.
"They were embracing." he said, and then paused, almost
as if he were teasing. "They were kissing."
Debbie's head went down. Robby looked around wildly, as
if he were looking for a good place to hide.
The effect this had on Ramona was startling. Her head
came up sharply and she brushed her hair from her eyes,
which were wide with comprehension, at last.
"Kissing?" she said, almost in a whisper.
"Yes... kissing." said Robert. "I found it most
interesting, my sweet."
"But that means..." Ramona said.
"That means they are like us." said Robert gently.
That statement didn't make any sense to either of the
teens, but there was something in Smith's voice that
caused both of them to turn their eyes to him. They
said nothing, but just stared.
"I thought about the signs that someone had been in the
mansion. The only way they could have gotten in was
through the secret ways, so I examined them and found
many footprints in the dust. I thought that, if it was
your children, they might have used the secret ways to
try to spy... and that they might have seen things they
do not understand."
Everyone was still staring at him, captivated by his
words.
"And so I set a trap, suspending that picture," he
pointed back toward the room they had left, "by a
threat that would be broken if anyone used the secret
ways. When I saw that you were here, and that the
picture had fallen, I suspected I would find the spies
behind the wall." He grinned. "It appears I was
correct."
Then he quit smiling.
"I think it is time they learned who I am." said the
man called Smith.
Even though he was the one talking, both children's
eyes went immediately to their mother, who was sitting
upright, and looking MUCH less unhappy than they
expected her to. While she was not smiling, she was at
least composed, and her crying had vanished as if it
had never been there except for a slight darkness to
her eyes and the shine of tears on her cheeks.
Ramona wiped at that dampness, her eyes going from her
son's eyes to her daughter's. She took a breath.
"Children, I'd like to introduce you to your Uncle...
Robert Nettleton."
Chapter Ten
===========
There was silence after Ramona's pronouncement that not
only was Smith... not Smith... he was also their uncle.
Debbie managed to make the first noise. "But we don't
HAVE an uncle!" she gasped.
"Am I then a ghost?" asked Robert, smiling. "Perhaps
one of the ghosts you say inhabit my house?"
There was, despite the emotion and uncertainty of the
moment, a subtle shift in Debbie's thinking. Her
rational brain accepted that this man was Robert
Nettleton, whatever that meant. She didn't believe her
mother would simply lie to her about that. While she
didn't understand what that meant yet, her mind DID
accept that this was a Nettleton, and that he had the
right to say it was "his" house.
"You're dead!" choked Robby.
Robert kept smiling and addressed Ramona. "Your
children have an uncanny ability to communicate with
ghosts, it appears."
Ramona, after getting her last sentence out of her
mouth, had been unable to go on. She hadn't been
prepared to tell her children about Robert, much less
about what she and Robert shared. But, during the
silence and interchange between the children and
Robert, she had thought frantically about his
statement... that Debbie and Robby had been kissing in
the woods... and what she had seen them doing as the
bookcase was opened. She had thought about what that
meant, and it allowed her to go on.
"Children," she started, her voice that of a mother.
"My sweet darlings," she said, altering her voice to
try to express the love and excitement that was welling
in her chest. "I couldn't tell you about Robert. There
were... difficulties. I didn't tell you about so many
things. I was worried that it would affect you badly. I
have so much to tell you I don't know where to start."
"Nettleton!" said Debbie suddenly. "ROBERT Nettleton!"
She looked at the man in awe. "You're the little boy...
your parents... you found them..." Her face filled with
grief at what this man's memories must contain.
Robert's face didn't smile now. "Your grandparents.
Yes, Rami and I found them. It was a bad time."
"No!" said Debbie just as suddenly. "Your sister's name
was Elizabeth. We read it in the papers!"
"Papers?" asked Ramona, not understanding.
"Yes!" said Debbie. "At the library. They had old
newspapers. They had stories in them about what
happened. We read them." she said, looking wonderingly
at her... uncle." She looked at her mother, her face
twisted with questions. "The papers said Robert and
Elizabeth Nettleton. And your maiden name was Shanks."
She shook her head, denying what she had been told in
this room.
Robert held up his hand. "Be at peace child. We can
explain all this to you."
"I'm NOT a child!" Debbie said, her anger sudden and
hot.
"No," mused her uncle, looking at her in a way that
made her feel uncomfortable. "I suppose you are not at
that." He smiled again. "You are a beautiful young
woman. Please accept my apologies."
He stared at her a little longer. Then, "Your mother
changed her name after the... when we were in foster
care. Things were very difficult for us then. People
thought we carried some kind of curse. We were in
boarding school for some years, and when we came back
we didn't talk much about who she was."
Ramona joined in, having something now she could talk
about.
"He didn't care. About our name, I mean. I wanted to
forget everything. We went first to a place that was
horrible, and they wouldn't let me see Robert. I hated
that place. Then, suddenly they took us to live with a
nice woman, who cared for us and loved us. She was so
nice to us. But then she got sick and had to go away.
Our new guardian was a cold man, and there were other
children in the house who treated us badly. They called
me names."
She trailed off, her face sad. Then she went on.
Even at the boarding school people looked at me
strangely when they heard my real name. So when our
guardian suggested that I take his name I agreed.
Anything that would cause people not to stare at me I
thought was a good thing. I began using my middle name
too, Ramona, instead of Elizabeth. All I wanted was to
be invisible... to be left alone."
Debbie's heart was breaking at the story. She realized
there were unshed tears in her eyes.
"Why didn't you ever tell us?" she asked. "Daddy never
said anything either."
"I never told your father who I was." said their
mother. "When we married and he brought me to our new
home he had no idea it was next door to the place I
hated more than anywhere else in the world. I couldn't
tell him. He was so proud and we loved each other.
Then, when you were so young he was taken from us. I
blamed the house... this house. Maybe we ARE cursed."
she gave in a low cry.
"Nonsense!" said Robert. "Things happen in this big
wide world. Some are good and some not. Life is what
you make of it. You were happy with Richard, yes? And
your wonderful children? Did they not make you
gloriously happy?"
"Of course" said Ramona sitting up straighter. "They
were my whole life."
"And all that happiness took place next to this house,
did it not?" he pressed.
"Well, yes, but..."
"That is why I came back here." he said. "I knew that I
could find happiness here, near to you. And I knew that
if, for some reason you were not happy, I could give
you happiness." It was an egotistical statement to
make... the assumption that her happiness depended on
him.
Yet, he spoke mere fact. Both of them remembered the
only happiness they had experienced as they were
growing up in a harsh world, the happiness they felt
when they were together. And, while their sexual
passion for each other was unbridled, that was not the
primary reason for their happiness together. They
shared so many things that no one else in the world
could understand. Their bond had been forged with a
heavy hammer, and they were welded together beyond
anyone's ability to separate. To Ramona, his statement
did not come as one of self importance.
Still, she had spent a long time alone, with only her
children.
"You took your time coming back to make me so
gloriously happy." she commented dryly.
He actually bowed to her. It was a movement that looked
natural to him, as if he had been raised in an
environment where bowing was normal.
"I wanted to come sooner, but could not. When you
stopped writing I used some of my money to have men
check on you." He smiled at her reaction to having been
survielled without her knowledge. "I know, it was a
terrible thing to do, but I had to know whether you
were well or not. I lived in the most squalid
conditions, with people who had only two sticks to rub
together to make fire. When the reports came that you
were doing well, I knew that those people needed me
more than you did. When they were finally able to feed
themselves, and had the knowledge to carry on, I came
here instead of finding another destitute village. I
found that I needed you, as much as I thought you might
need me."
That speech brought back into the light what the
children had peeked at those several times... what they
had been spying upon when they were caught.
"But..." squeaked Debbie, "You're brother and sister!"
"As are you two." said Robert smoothly.
That caused both teens to blush and avert their eyes.
Ramona was thinking what they were thinking.
"How could this happen? Between you two I mean?" she
asked.
"How did it happen between us?" asked Robert, looking
at her intently.
"That was different. We were alone in the world. You
gave me love and tenderness." she said.
"Is it so different for two children who have lost
their father to accident, rather than crime?" asked her
brother. "They have still lost their father, and are
growing up alone in one sense. The world is just as
harsh a place today as it was then. They have fared
better, perhaps, but it has still been difficult for
them."
He turned his eyes on the children.
Robby found his voice. He was amazed by all he had
heard, and had been content just to listen. But now he
spoke.
"Our lives have been wonderful." he said. "I hardly
remember my father. We have no complaints at all!"
"This is wonderful for me to hear." said their newly
discovered uncle. "Perhaps I have spent too many years
with people who had to struggle every minute to make
their lives bearable. I know I felt as if I were more
blessed than possible when I saw what they had to live
like day in and day out. Perhaps I am jaded."
"I still need you." said Ramona. She darted a glance at
her children. While their lives might have been
carefree, hers had not. She didn't know how to explain
that to them without making it sound like they weren't
worth everything she'd had to go through.
"You have to understand," she said to them. "I wouldn't
change anything if it meant that you would disappear
from my life. I love you more than life itself. But I
have never loved a man like I love this man."
"Not even Daddy?" asked Debbie, who had only the
vaguest fragmented memories of the man she had just
named.
"I loved him." said Ramona firmly. "He loved me and
saved my life. He gave me you two, and YOU saved my
life when he was taken from us. It's hard for me to
explain, but when we were little, Robert saved my life
too. Without Robert I would have wasted away and died
of a broken heart. I love him too, and I always will. I
cannot change that."
"This is all so strange." said Debbie. She looked at
the man who, until an hour ago she had called "Smith"
and hated. Now she didn't know how to feel about him.
She had a sudden thought.
"Then this IS our house!" she yipped. She realized how
that sounded and restated it. "I mean, our grandparents
lived here, and YOU lived here, Mommy. That's YOUR
bedroom upstairs... the one with the girl's things in
it!" She looked at her uncle. "And the one with the
toys! That one was YOUR room!"
"How do you KNOW all this?" cried her mother. She
suddenly remembered them in the secret passageway. "How
did you know about the secret places?"
That led to another hour of discussion and explanation
as the children confessed to their countless trips to
the house, how they'd found the bent place in the
fence, and then the root cellar and its secret tunnel.
They talked about the games they played. They left out
the sexual games -that was still something they were
uncomfortable discussing - but described how they had
found things, and what they had thought of the things
they found, and how they had felt at home here, like
they belonged in this place.
"I never knew." said Ramona. "My own children, spending
hours and hours here and I never knew!"
"We were afraid you would have forbidden us to come
back if you ever caught us." said Debbie.
"You were right." said their mother firmly. "I would
most certainly have done that. I can't believe you kept
that secret from me!"
"Like you kept the secret of who that horrible bearded
man was when he came to our house? When he ruined
everything?" Debbie shot back. Then her head jerked as
she realized what she'd said. "I mean it's not really
ruined, I guess. But it was then." She got flustered.
"I always hoped that once this place was restored to
it's original condition that I might lure your mother
and you to live here with me." said their uncle. "I
hadn't planned on suggesting that until you had gotten
to know me, but such is life."
And THAT led to another hour of discussion about why
the disguises and subterfuge had all been necessary
when Robert first came back... was STILL necessary for
another few weeks at least.
And THAT led to an attempt to discuss, on the part of
the kids at least, where the money was coming from to
do the extensive restoration that was going on. Neither
of the teens was stupid, and they knew that it was
going to cost more money than they could imagine to
complete the task.
"Your Grandfather's fortune was passed on to us." said
Robert simply.
"I don't know about you," said Debbie, "but WE
certainly don't have any fortune."
She looked at her mother, who was looking at her folded
hands on top of the dining room table.
Ramona talked to her hands. "There are several other
things I never told you."
And THAT led to Debbie attempting to grill her mother
about money, at which point Robby stood up and said
"I'm starving. Can't we get something to eat before we
do any more talking?"
Debbie was obviously consumed with curiosity about the
"Nettleton fortune", but Ramona stood up too.
"An excellent idea!" she said. "Be patient Debbie, we
can talk about all this more later."
Debbie groaned and made much of being told to be
"patient" again. She did, however, reflect for a moment
on how much information she had gotten in the last few
hours, and how many of her questions had been answered,
albeit in an astonishing manner. So she clamped her
jaws together and stood up too, at which time she
realized she was also ravenous.
"Would it be all right if I invite your Uncle to dinner
again?" Ramona asked. Her voice was neutral.
Both kids looked at each other. This wasn't anything
even remotely like what they had expected when they
wondered who Smith was, and it was all so new that they
still didn't know how they felt about things yet. But
he WAS their uncle, and their mother DID love him.
"Of course." said Robby, speaking for both of them.
"We'll call for pizza." said Ramona. "When was the last
time you had pizza Bobby?" she asked.
"I can't even remember." he grinned. "Must I wear my
disguise, just to go next door?"
"You do and I won't speak to you." growled Debbie. But
she smiled tentatively too. "I have more questions."
"I can't wait to give you answers." said her "new"
uncle.
Ramona, who had driven her car to the house, found her
briefcase and told the kids to come with her. Robert
suggested that by going the secret way, he could get to
the back of the house without being seen. He asked
Robby and Debbie to go with him, and they immediately
agreed.
Ramona said she'd get pizzas on the way.
The siblings and their uncle, who grabbed a flashlight,
entered the passageway through the same bookcase they'd
been uncovered behind, pulling it closed behind them.
Then they led their uncle back down to the tunnel. The
only thing they'd ever used for light was candles, and
the flashlight made it seem both lighter, where they
were standing, and much darker, where the light did not
penetrate. When they got to the root cellar and Robby
pushed the shelf/door open he commented on how amazing
it was that a mere six year old boy could have opened
the heavy door.
"There was a counterweight on it back then" said
Robert. "And the hinges were oiled. It opened quite
easily. I imagine the rope has broken over the years.
I'll have to add that to my very long list of things to
repair."
They led him up the stairs into the darkening evening,
and then through the trees to the fence. They were
surprised when he was able to fit through the fence
too.'
"This opening must have been made by the men who killed
your Grandparents." said Robert sadly. I saw it the
other day, when I caught... when I saw you two. But I
didn't think anything of it then. From now on you may
enter the estate through the gate. There are other
smaller gates also, but all are chained and locked with
rusty old locks."
"Are we really going to live in the manor?" asked
Debbie.
Her uncle walked along for a few more steps before he
spoke. "Nothing would please me more." he said. "But
that it up to your mother. I have no claim to her,
other than blood. She may not wish to give up the home
in which you were raised. And the mansion has bad
memories for her. I have laid those ghosts to rest, but
I don't know if Rami will be able to do that."
Robby spoke, his voice surprisingly adult. "You really
love her, don't you." It was more of a statement than a
question.
Robert nodded. "I love her above all else. Were I
destitute, the only thing I would crave is her love."
"But you're NOT destitute." said Debbie. "How much
money do you have?" She couldn't resist asking and, as
a mere teenager, she had not learned of the unwritten
rules of society that frowned mightily on asking such a
question.
Robert laughed. "I have a lot. Your mother probably has
more. She has never touched her inheritance. I have
spent some of mine."
"You didn't answer my question." said Debbie, stopping
at the edge of the forest. "How much?"
"You will have to ask your mother that question." said
her uncle with a gleam in his eye. "As I recall she
wanted to wait to talk about that."
"Oooooo!" said a frustrated Debbie. "You two MUST be
brother and sister! You're both driving me crazy!" She
stomped off toward the house.
Robert and Robby watched her go. Both men watched her
butt cheeks lift and drop as she strode along.
"She has so much passion. I think I am envious of you
nephew." said Robert.
Robby shook his head slowly. He, like his uncle, was
watching the rise and fall of Debbie's buttocks as she
stomped across the yard. "You have no idea." he said.
"But I think that's what makes her irresistible to me."
He looked at his uncle. "I think I might be a little
envious of you too." he said, ready to back up if
things turned ugly.
"Your mother is a beautiful and passionate woman too."
said Robert, completely unfazed at the idea that this
boy might lust for his own mother. "I am the luckiest
of men in the world." He grinned. "Except perhaps for
you."
They hurried after Debbie, not so much because they
were in a hurry, but because she was getting too far
away to watch. She got in the door before them and
slammed it behind her.
They found Debbie hounding her mother, who was setting
out the fine china again, even though all they'd eat on
it was pizza. Ramona, recovered somewhat from the
ordeal she'd just been through, seemed to be ignoring
her daughter. When the men came in Ramona turned to
them.
"Take your uncle and show him the house." she said
tersely. "And take your sister with you." It was
apparent she was not as oblivious of Debbie's repeated
attempts to find out how rich the family was as it had
first seemed.
"Maaahm" came Debbie's drawn out moan.
"Go." said Ramona, unrepentant at her own obstinacy.
Debbie dragged her feet on the carpet as the men turned
toward the hallway. She followed them silently as they
went to Robby's room and various things Robby was proud
of were pointed out. Then they showed him the bathroom
and her mother's room. Robert stood in the middle of
Ramona's bedroom and took in deep breaths.
"This place smells like my sister." he said smiling.
But when they got to Debbie's room she stood in the
doorway, facing them.
"I'm still not sure I like you." she said, obviously
still in a funk. "My room is private."
Robby rolled his eyes and started to move her by force,
but his uncle stopped him.
"One must always respect a lady's boudoir" he said.
"Perhaps one day I shall see it." He turned toward the
living room. There was no place else to see in the
modest house.
Robby shot his sister a dark look and then followed
Robert. Debbie stood uncertainly in her doorway and
then finally followed the men.
The arrival of the pizzas interrupted any attempt by
Debbie to pick up where she'd left off. She didn't
really know why she was so interested in how much money
her uncle and mother had inherited. Had someone asked
her what she'd buy if she had more money she'd have
been hard pressed to come up with more than a few new
outfits and perhaps her own stereo system. She was
still too young to think about cars and college and
things like that. Her needs were pretty well met
already. But still, she wondered, and her stubborn
nature made her pursue the answer.
Finally, when the boxes lay empty and grease stained,
and they all felt full enough that all they wanted to
do was sit and rest, Robert leaned back and sighed.
"Now, what do you want to know?"
"How much money do we have?" Debbie promptly asked.
Ramona sighed.
"That money, the money that is in the bank, came from
the death of my parents. They were murdered for that
money. And we don't need it. We have everything we need
already. I had thought a little about using some of it
to send you two to college, but I have never wanted
that money. It is blood money."
Debbie started to say something but her mother held up
her hand.
"And, if you suddenly have a lot of money, it changes
things. People treat you differently. They want some of
your money. There are some who want all of your money.
They don't care about you... just the money. Even your
friends will act differently toward you. They say
things like "Well you have more than you need, so give
me some." And even if it is your money, to do with what
you wish, if you do not give them some they feel like
you have taken something from them. Money is not a bad
thing, but the lust for money has caused more pain than
all the wars in history. I don't want you two to have
to face that pain."
Debbie thought about that for a minute. "OK" she said
finally. "So... if we said we didn't WANT any of that
money... would you tell us how much there is?"
Robert laughed, a long, loud belly laugh. Debbie
frowned at him, but he held up his hand.
"I'm sorry." he said. "It's just that it is very hard
to 'not want' money when you know it is there. But
there are ways. Let me ask you this. Are you thirsty?"
Debbie looked confused. "Thirsty?"
"Yes" said her uncle. "Are you thirsty for a drink of
water right now?"
"No." said Debbie, still confused.
"But you will BE thirsty some time in the future, yes?"
"Well of course." said Debbie. "But what does that have
to do with anything?"
"Money is like that." said Robert. "At some point you
become very thirsty. If water is scarce, then thirst is
a horrible thing. But if you can just turn on the tap
any time you wish then water means very little, yes?"
"It still means a lot if you're really thirsty." said
Robby.
"True" said Robert. "But, most of the time, you don't
think about the water in the faucet, yes? Only when you
are thirsty."
Both kids nodded.
"Then, you must look at your money like it is water.
When you have great thirst, it is good to have. But one
must not think of it all the time and give it inflated
importance. Do you understand this?"
Again both kids nodded. Debbie shook her head then.
"But money ISN'T water. There's water everywhere.
There's so much water that you couldn't drink it all.
That's why you don't think about it all the time."
"And this money that you are so interested in." said
Robert. "What if there were more of it than you could
ever spend? Would you then lose some of your interest
in it?"
Debbie blinked. "That would have to be a LOT of money."
she said.
"How much is a lot?" asked her uncle. "Hundreds?
Thousands? Millions?"
Debbie looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. Millions I
guess."
"And how MANY millions?" he pressed. "Just millions?
Tens of millions? Hundreds of millions?"
Debbie looked shocked. "I think a million or two would
be more than anybody could spend." she said. "I mean
unless they bought stupid expensive things that they
don't really need."
"Then, my beautiful niece, let me assure you that your
mother has more money than you, and your brother, and
any additional brothers and sisters that may come along
could ever spend. Just think of it as if it were
water."
The first thing Debbie thought of was what her uncle
had said in the woods... that her mother had more money
than he did, because he had spent some of his and she
had never touched hers. She looked at her Uncle.
"And you?" she asked again.
"The same." he said softly. "More than all of us could
ever spend."
Debbie licked her lips and looked around.
"More than four million?" she asked.
"More than forty million." said her uncle.
Debbie's mouth hung open. "How?" she gasped.
Robert waved his hand. "The banks. They have kept our
money, and used it and made money with it, paying us
interest. The interest was added to what our parents
left us and then they paid us interest on the interest.
It is the way of banks. And it has been some thirty
years they have done this."
Debbie couldn't breathe. "We're millionaires?" she
squeaked.
"Many times over, my dear." said Robert.
"Wow." said a stunned Robby.
Ramona had to speak. "But we don't NEED millions to
live. I LIKE our life the way it is now." She darted a
look at her brother. "And now that Robert is back in my
life I LOVE our life. We MUSTN'T let money change
things! It could ruin everything!"
"One can drown in very little water." said Robert,
nodding.
"Bobby," said Ramona. "I thought you couldn't receive
your trust unless you graduated from college."
He nodded. "When I was in East Africa there was a need
for both expertise and money in the tribes I was
working with. They were just establishing the Royal
College in Nairobi, and I managed to get a degree in
engineering through them. Officially it was awarded by
the University of London, but it satisfied the
prerequisites for obtaining access to my trust. It made
a huge difference in the good I was able to do in the
following years."
His bland statement led to questions from both teens
about where he'd been, and what he'd done, and that led
to questions about the people he'd met and what they'd
been like.
Ramona sat and listened to her brother with a warm
feeling. Just looking at him and hearing his voice made
her feel good. The mantle clock chimed and she listened
with half an ear until it reached ten melodious clangs.
"It's late" she announced suddenly, interrupting her
brother's account of working with the Masai. He was
talking about Kali, a Swahili word for the hot, spicy
food he loved.
"We don't have anything to do tomorrow." objected
Debbie. She and Robby both were completely enthralled
by the stories their uncle had been telling them.
"Ah, hurul-ayni," he said to Debbie. "but I have much
to do on the morrow, and need my rest." said their
uncle.
"What does that mean?" asked Debbie, smiling.
"It is Swahili for 'beautiful maiden'" he said, bowing
to her.
Debbie blushed, but grinned hugely too. Perhaps this
strange man wasn't so bad after all.
"OK" said Debbie, her face slightly flushed. "But you
have to promise to tell us more stories later."
"You are, of course, welcome in my home..." he looked
at Ramona "OUR home, as far as I am concerned, any
time. Any time at all." Again he bowed to the children.
He saw their look of amusement and added, "It is a
habit I acquired in foreign lands. It soothes people.
They are more willing to hear you when you bow."
"So" said Debbie cheekily, "You're trying to sooth us?"
"You have made your dislike for me clear." said Robert.
"Well... yes." admitted Debbie. "But that was before we
knew who you really were. I guess you're not so bad."
she finished, unable to meet the eyes of the man she'd
screamed her hate at.
"You have taken a huge weight from my shoulders." he
said. "Perhaps some day I'll even be worth a hug."
The first thing Debbie thought of when he said the word
"hug" was the hugs she'd seen her naked mother giving
him, while he made passionate love to her. Debbie felt
a rush of emotion that she wasn't able to categorize as
being either good or bad.
"Yeah... well, some day." she said carefully.
"Until then." he said, turning.
Something startling occured to Debbie suddenly and she
turned to her mother. "Mom? Robert... Robby? Is Robby
named after... him?"
Ramona nodded, her eyes turning to her brother, who
finally looked startled.
"It was the only way I could have him near me at the
time." she said. "Now, come. I'll take you home Bobby."
said Ramona. "So you don't have to walk."
Robby barked a laugh, and when the adults looked at him
he blushed. "Sorry" he said. "I was thinking of...
never mind." he finished, also unable to meet his
mother's and uncle's eyes. He had been thinking that
every time his mother went to the manor she ended up
naked with a stiff prick buried in her.
Robert smiled. "Perhaps you want to come with us?" he
offered in a gracious voice. "You can watch without
having to hide behind the walls if that is what you
were thinking."
"BOBBY!" squealed Ramona. She reached out and slapped
his arm.
Robby was so unnerved by his uncle's bland invitation
to watch them have sex that he was momentarily lost for
words. Finally he blurted out "Maybe later." Then he
turned even redder and lay his head on the table with a
moan.
Robert laughed. "Yes, I imagine you would like to be
alone too, eh?" he said with a chuckle.
Ramona turned around and pointed at her children. "You
two don't do ANYTHING until I get home. We have some
things to talk about!"
Both kids just nodded, looking pale all of a sudden.
Ramona pushed her brother toward the door, still
looking at her children.
"And I'll be RIGHT back!" she said firmly. She then
berated her brother as they went through the door,
telling him he was shameless and crude and... The
conversation, if it could be called that, was cut off
by the door as it closed.
Chapter Eleven
==============
Debbie looked at Robby. "What do you think she's going
to do?"
"I don't know. She said she'd be right back. Probably
nothing." he said.
"I don’t' mean with HIM." said Debbie, rolling her
eyes. "I meant about US!"
Robby looked at her miserably. "I don't know that
either. Sounds like she doesn't like the idea of us
doing... things."
"That's not fair." said Debbie, her stubbornness coming
out in her voice. "THEY do things."
"Deb, they do a whole lot more than WE do." said her
brother.
"Yeah, but not THAT much more." she said, still wanting
to argue.
"Deb, I never thought of actually... DOING what they
do." he said. "I mean I thought about it, but not like
I was really going to try to get you to do that." he
said. "Did YOU think about doing that? With me?"
Debbie felt another rush of emotion. "Not really." she
said. "I like what we do just fine. I mean I've
wondered what it might feel like. You know? But seeing
them... and knowing who they are... I don't know how I
feel any more."
"Well you better figure out how you feel, 'cause Mom
said she wasn't going to be long." he said.
As if to punctuate his sentence they heard a car door
slam outside. They waited and then tensed as their
mother came through the door. She did, in fact, look
unhappy.
"Sorry Mom." said Robby automatically.
"What, exactly, are you sorry for Robby?" asked Ramona.
She was in full parent mode and wanted her children to
articulate their errors in a way that would convince
her that their breach of behavioral rules would not be
repeated. It was something she'd done with them for
years.
"I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with Uncle
Robert." he said sincerely.
"What?" asked Ramona, surprised by his statement.
"Well we kind of ruined your evening with him." said
Robby. "And we're sorry. Aren't we?" he hinted to his
sister, who was also looking at him strangely.
"I guess so." she said honestly.
The overwhelming nature of everything that had happened
settled on Ramona like thickly falling snow. She had
gone from being inflamed with passion for her brother's
touch, to horrified and ashamed that her children had
seen it, followed by absolute joy that her children
still loved her. Upon the heels of that was her anger
that they had lied to her all these years and her
astonishment that they were having sex. She knew how
she was supposed to feel about that, her own behavior
not-withstanding - that was different... wasn't it? -
and she had planned on laying down the law to them when
she came in the door. Piled on top of that was the warm
safe feeling she had enjoyed for most of the evening as
they talked, like a real family, which was upset by her
brother's completely tactless invitation for her
children to watch him ravish her. It didn't help that
he had begged for forgiveness, claiming that he was
kidding... trying to shock the children further out of
the opinion they had formed already about him.
It was all too much to think about... to deal with. She
felt a need to just get away from it all, but she knew
she couldn't. It left her feeling a little shell
shocked. She sat down heavily on the couch and stared
at her children.
"Mom?" asked her daughter. "Are you OK?"
"No." said Ramona. "I don't think I am. This is all so
confusing."
Debbie, unfettered by all but her own concerns about
how this was going to affect herself and her brother,
spoke with typical teenaged innocence.
"What's to be confused about?" she asked. "Uncle Robert
came back, and you're glad. It's true that you have bad
memories about the manor, but he's fixing it up really
nice and everything, and we can go visit him whenever
we want to. I mean what's changed all that much?"
Ramona gave a strangled sound that was half laugh and
have groan.
"How I wish it were all that simple." she said.
"Isn't it?" asked Debbie.
"Well, let's see." said Ramona. She ticked things off
on her fingers. "The house I hoped would fall down into
a pile of rubble is being rebuilt so it will NEVER fall
down. My brother, against whom I have NO defenses
whatsoever, is bound and determined to father a child
on me! Meanwhile my children are busy trying to make
babies of their own... together! People in town are
going to just go NUTS when they find out that the meek
little woman at the bank is, in actuality, Elizabeth
Nettleton, the rich heiress of the Nettleton fortune.
I'll probably be fired. My children are much too
interested in money that I have, but don't want. Have I
missed anything? Isn't there something else I've
forgotten that can ruin our lives?"
Debbie looked startled as she realized that there were
a lot of things she hadn't thought about.
Robby, perhaps because he was male, but not necessarily
so, took a more pragmatic view of things. He too,
ticked things off on his fingers.
"First of all, you don't ever have to go in the house
next door again at all if you don't want to. Second,
there are lots of ways to keep from having babies. If
you don't want to have Uncle Robert's baby then just
tell him so. Third, nobody in town has to know who you
are now any more than they did last week. Everybody
will know about Uncle Robert, but unless the two of you
announce who you are, everybody in town will still thin
you're the... what did you call it?... nice little
woman at the bank? And you have the wrong idea about
Debbie and me. We fool around a little bit, because we
love each other, but we're not trying to make babies.
We haven't done that at all. And they can't fire you
just because you're Elizabeth Nettleton. It's not
against the law to be Elizabeth Nettleton. And if the
money is that horrible, then I agree with you that we
don't need it. Give it away or something. I don't
care."
He crossed his arms over his chest.
Debbie had been nodding her head... until he got to the
part about giving away all the money. She wanted to
complain about that, but she really felt her mother's
distress, so she bit her lip. She could suggest some
alternatives to that later.
Of it all, Ramona had zeroed in the most on his
statement that he and Debbie "hadn't done that".
"You two haven't had sex?" she asked, tentatively.
Debbie thought to reassure her mother. "Well, we have
sex, but not like you and Uncle Robert."
Ramona didn't know what that meant. "Let's just talk
about that." she said, glad to have picked one topic
that could be explored, and which might be less
unsettling than she had previously thought.
So they did, disregarding the fact that it was getting
later and later. Ramona wasn't tired, and she was
fascinated by what she was hearing from her children.
It sounded to her like a carbon copy of what she and
Robert had done when they were young... younger even
than these two.
For their part, as the children realized she wasn't
going to fly off in a rage every time they added
something to their story, they felt much more
comfortable telling it. They were amazed at how they
got a sense of freedom out of giving up the secrets
they had been so careful to keep. They had to include
the things they had done in the house too... the
dressing up... the fantasies they had acted out...
basically a description of the childhood in the manor
that Ramona had been robbed of.
When they were finished, Ramona sighed. She had heard a
love story. That much was plain. What her children had
done with each other was clearly based on their love
for each other. She understood that. That understanding
was the core of her own personality, based on the same
kind of love she had for Robert. She found herself
unable to judge their actions harshly... and she knew
it.
She looked at her watch and groaned. "It's very late."
she said. "Unlike you two, who are carefree and able to
sleep in, I have to get up and go to work. Off to bed."
Debbie looked at her mother slyly. "If you used your
money you wouldn't have to work any more at all." she
said. "You could sleep in too, if you wanted to."
Ramona tried to glare at her daughter, but it just
seemed to take too much energy. "I LIKE my job." she
said shortly.
"We've seen how much you like your job." said Debbie
innocently. "Several times. Like Robby said, sorry your
job got messed up tonight." Her voice was so innocent
that Ramona had to laugh.
"Go on. Off to bed. SEPARATE beds, my darlings." she
said.
"We've never slept in the same bed." said Robby, trying
to sound injured.
"Thank goodness for small miracles." said Ramona under
her breath.
No one got to sleep easily in the Franklin household
that night. Ramona thought about everything she'd heard
her children telling her, and it brought out her love
and affection for her brother, who was a few hundred
yards away... quite possibly naked... quite possibly
wasting perfectly good seed. That led her to think
about what she'd said about him fathering a child on
her, and she examined that from several different
angles, trying to decide exactly how she felt about it
while his prick WASN'T buried in her. She knew how she
felt about it then.
Debbie lay in her bed, idly flicking her clitoris, also
thinking about all that had happened. Even though her
mother had specified separate beds, there had been no
real heat in that order. Debbie clung to the hope that
her mother could understand how she felt about Robby,
not knowing her mother knew even better than she did
herself. Debbie thought about what her mother had
thought Debbie and Robby had been doing. She looked at
that scenario from several different points of view,
wondering again, what that might be like.
Robby also lay in his bed. The thing that kept coming
back to his mind was his hand on his mother's naked
shoulder, telling her that he loved her. He felt a
distinctly un-son-like feeling in is groin for his
mother... the same kind of thing he felt for his sister
when they played. He examined that from several angles,
trying to figure out whether it was good, bad, or
indifferent. He found his answer when he suddenly
realized his hand was firmly wrapped around his stiff
cock, and that he was stroking it.
Next door, in the Nettleton mansion, Robert Nettleton
lay in his bed too, also thinking about what had
happened that evening. Neither his niece or nephew had
screamed hate at him. Their love for each other,
something he too understood completely, was now out in
the open. He knew it could not be quashed, no matter
what his more conservative sister thought. He wasn't
too upset about how Rami had berated him as a pervert
for offering to let the children watch him love their
mother. He had noticed that the points of her nipples
had pressed firmly through her blouse. She might not
know it, but that "perversion" had appealed to
something in her. "Methinks thou dost protest too
much." he said out loud to his sister. Then he thought
about how much turmoil he had caused in his lovely
sister's life, and examined that from several
directions, trying to see if he had covered everything
in his plan. He smiled.
He had big plans for his sister. She didn't know them
all. It would take time, but he was sure he could bring
his plan to fruition. Perhaps, at last, the Nettleton
curse could be broken. Thinking about his plan made him
stiff, and he considered masturbating. Instead he
rolled over and tried to find sleep. He would not waste
his seed.
The next morning Debbie had to pull her mother out of
bed, lecturing her on how she had to get up... had to
go to work... had to be an adult. Ramona acted
surprisingly like a teenage girl, snarling at the
disruption of her sleep, moaning that she didn't want
to get up. She was horny too, and that made her temper
unruly. Debbie ignored her, much as a good mother would
ignore the unthinking barbs that a daughter often
throws at the mother making her do something she
doesn't want to do. It was a remarkable reversal of
roles.
Once she had pushed her mother out the door, kissing
her and telling her she loved her, Debbie turned to her
brother's room.
Robby was still asleep, though how he could have slept
through the ranting and railing of his mother she could
not guess. With economy of movement Debbie stripped off
her sleepwear and ran her hand under the covers to find
how her brother was clothed.
Good. He had slept naked. She crawled into the bed,
shivering at how warm it was. She cuddled up to her
brother and closed her eyes, smelling his hair and the
other scents that were... Robby. Even that didn't wake
him. With her arm draped over him, her hand only inches
from his penis, she drifted into that place between
sleep and wakefulness.
At work Ramona drank a cup of coffee and felt a little
better. She really did love her job. She got along well
with everyone at the bank. She had been more
comfortable as an invisible teller, but even now the
sheen of being involved with the Nettleton account had
dimmed a little and people were back to business as
usual.
There was a new pile of bills and invoices from
contractors in her in box. She tackled them, using the
nervous energy she had created by resisting her
daughter. On one bill she noticed something familiar.
She went into her files and pulled out another invoice.
They were the same, though dated differently. Hoskins
dry wall was trying to charge twice for the same work.
It was a clumsy attempt at larceny. Only the dates had
been changed. Even Robert's signature on the approval
line was exactly the same. She frowned, her nervous
energy being channeled into the heat of anger.
Renee Wright had known Ramona Franklin for more than
six years. She was shocked as she walked by Ramona's
new desk. Ramona's face was red and she was shouting
into the phone. "And if you try this again I'll report
you to the police!" snarled Ramona, slamming the phone
down in the cradle. Renee looked at her friend like
they'd never met.
"What was that all about?" she asked, leaning on the
short partition in front of the desk.
"Hoskins drywall is trying to rip off my client!" said
Ramona, reaching for her coffee cup, only to find it
empty. She stood up to go get more.
"Well you go get 'em girl." said Renee. "We can't have
our favorite client getting ripped off." She looked
around like she was checking to see who could hear
them. "Have you met him yet?" she asked.
"What?" said Ramona, distracted by her urge for
caffeine. "Who?"
"Robert Nettleton, of course." said Renee. "I hear he's
young and single. I don't know if he's good looking or
not, but who cares with all that money he has?"
Ramona's radar lit up like a set of holiday lights.
"I've talked to him." she said carefully. "He's pig
headed." she added. She was horny and she blamed it on
Robert Nettleton.
"I could get used to pig headed, if it came with fifty
million dollars." Renee winked.
"You're married!" said Ramona.
"Too true." said Renee. "And I love Ted, but he doesn't
have fifty million dollars."
Ramona was shocked. She hadn't thought about the fact
that her brother would be considered "fair game" by
conniving females in town. Even beyond town. It made
her stomach hurt.
"You'd leave Ted? Just for the money?" gasped Ramona.
Renee smiled brilliantly. "No. I really do love Ted.
But a girl can dream... can't she? What about you?
You've got the inside track here. Has he made any moves
on you?" she whispered the last question.
Ramona felt herself blushing and tried in vain to stop
it. "Of course not!" she said. Her blush continued
because of the lie.
Renee laughed. "Well then, you'd better loosen up a
little girl. He's the most eligible bachelor in the
state - maybe in the five state region - and you're a
good looking girl when you want to be. How about I take
you shopping and see if we can come up with an outfit
you can go on safari in?" She grinned from ear to ear.
The last thing Ramona thought she needed was a bunch of
people poking into who Robert Nettleton was "seeing".
No, now that she thought about it, the last thing she
needed was a bunch of women trying to get her to
introduce them to the most eligible bachelor in the
five state region. No, now that she thought about it
even more, the last thing she needed was to "get
involved" with Robert Nettleton, and then for people to
find out who she was.
"Thanks." she said, trying to defuse the situation.
"But I'm happy with who I am. All that money comes with
problems attached to it. You can be sure of that." she
said firmly. "And I'm not about to become a dating
service for that pig-headed man either, so spread that
around. If anybody wants to meet him they can go to his
drafty old house and knock on the door, just like
anybody else."
"What does he look like?" asked Renee, not at all put
off by Ramona's tirade.
"I don't know." lied Ramona. "I've only seen him once
and that was just for a handshake in Peterson's office.
I've talked to him on the phone a couple of times. All
the face-to-face stuff is with Mister Smith."
Renee shuddered visibly. "That spooky old man?" she
said. "He gives me the willies."
"Oh, he's nice enough, really. A little strange, but a
nice man all things considered." said Ramona. "He's
only going to be around for another few weeks."
"Well, you listen to me Ramona." said Renee. "Pig-
headed or not, there's going to be a stampede by a
whole bunch of women trying to get their claws into
Mister Robert Nettleton. You think about what I said.
You're a sweet woman Ramona, and you deserve some
happiness. And you DO have the inside track. don't
throw away first crack at something that could be a
nice thing." Renee blew an air kiss and wandered off
toward her own desk.
Ramona sat and thought about what had just happened. It
was true. Women would flock to try to net a catch like
Robert. It made her stomach roil to think about any
other woman in Robert's arms.
She stood up, grabbed her briefcase viciously, and
stalked out of the bank toward her car.
=======================================================
==================
Robert was talking to an interior decorator about
period wall paper and fabric choices when he saw
Ramona's car speeding up the driveway. It was still
gravel, and small stones spun from under her tires as
the car swerved around a gradual corner. It didn't take
a rocket scientist to see she was upset about
something. He told the designer that expense was not an
issue, and that he wanted authentic paper and cloth,
and then excused himself to walk toward the car as it
slid to a stop, scraping across the last five feet of
gravel.
He opened the door of the car, noting that a plumber
was standing and watching not far away.
"Mrs. Franklin!" he said loudly. "How good to see you
again. Please, come inside and we can conduct whatever
business seems to be so important that you spread my
gravel all over the yard."
It was the kind of thing a foreman for a rich prick
would say to an underling. The plumber turned around to
get something out of his truck. He felt sorry for the
poor woman in the car.
Ramona's funk was penetrated by the formal note in her
brother's voice, and she got out of the car without
saying anything. She let him lead her into the house,
and up the stairs, into the bedroom. When he closed the
door she flung herself into his arms, crying.
"Rami, my sweet, what's wrong?" he asked, stroking her
back. There was nothing sexual in his touch; only the
care and loving concern he felt for her.
"They're all going to be after you." she sobbed. "All
those grasping women!"
Robert soothed her and took her to the love seat. He
sat down beside her. '
"What are you talking about my darling?" he asked
solicitously. "What grasping women?"
"You're the most eligible bachelor in five states!"
cried Ramona. She broke into sobs again and leaned
against Robert.
Slowly he worked out of her what had happened. She told
him what Renee had said, and of her fears that some
other woman would worm her way into his life, shutting
her out.
Robert held her until she calmed, her crying finally
fading to sniffles. There was a box of tissues on an
end table and he offered her one.
"Love of my life." he started. She turned her tear-
filled eyes to his. "Did you really think there could
be any other woman for me than you? I am laid low that
you would even THINK that some... grasping woman...
could ever be welcome here."
"But it's true!" moaned Ramona. "They'll hound you.
They won't leave you alone. You're rich! Oh, how I HATE
that money!" She started to cry again.
=======================================================
=====
Next door, at the Franklin household, the 'man' of the
house smiled as his mind recognized that he was rising
from slumber to wakefulness. That was a nice place.
Good things happened in that place just before you
actually woke up. Like now, for instance. He could feel
a warm naked body cuddled up to his own. It felt so
nice he didn't want to wake up at all. But he had to.
His bladder was killing him. He opened his eyes,
blinking at the sunlight coming through the windows. He
must have slept late. Why could he still feel warm
naked body against him?
He came awake quickly then, feeling what had to be his
sister's arm draped over him. He could hear her slow
breathing behind him... feel her warm breath on his
neck. Now he could feel her breasts pressing into his
back, and her legs against his. He lifted his head and
looked at his alarm clock. Ten O’clock! He NEVER slept
that late. Then again, it had been a late night. His
bladder reminded him that, regardless of how nice this
was, he had to get up. He rolled the opposite way he
would usually get out of bed, sliding under Debbie's
arm, which dropped to the bed softly.
"Mmmmmm" she complained, her own eyes opening and her
tousled head lifting a little. "Why did you get up?"
she complained.
"Gotta go." he said, his piss erection standing out
straight and strong.
"Well hurry up." she grumbled. "You let the warm all
out."
Robby did hurry, draining his bladder and then running
on his tip toes back to his bedroom and the naked girl
waiting in his bed.
"I liked it better the other way." she commented,
peeking out from under the sheet at his now flaccid
penis.
"Well, I'm sure you can do something about that if you
want to." he said, climbing back under the sheet and
pressing his front to hers.
They spent a while just kissing each other, their
tongues dueling like flickering swords, and that caused
them to move their bodies against each other, pushing,
sliding and thrusting. Debbie purred as she felt her
brother's prick get long and hard again, poking into
her mound.
She broke the kiss and reached between them to wrap her
hand around his maleness.
"Mom thought we were... fucking." she said, feeling a
thrill at using a naughty word. "Have you ever wanted
to... fuck me?" she whispered.
"I never really thought about that." said Robby into
her mouth, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Until
lately."
"I like what we do." she murmured, kissing the corner
of his mouth, like he had kissed hers. "And if we...
fucked... I might get pregnant."
"I know." he said, thrusting into her hand. "I'm happy
with what we do." He thrust into her hand again. "It
might feel good though."
"I love it when I feel all your warm stuff shooting on
me." she sighed, moving his prick so it dug between her
pussy lips and pressed against her clit.
"Maybe if I went into you just a little bit?" he asked.
"I don't know." she said, breathing faster as she
rubbed herself off with the tip of his prick. "It might
hurt."
"I don't want to hurt you." he whispered, thrusting
again. His prick poked hard between her labia and
stretched her opening before her tightness stopped him.
she felt the stretching, but not as pain so much as the
kind of discomfort you have when you want to take a
bite of something and your mouth won't open wide enough
to get the kind of bite you want. She lifted her top
leg, trying to open herself up more, to see if that
made the stretching sensation go away.
"Suck my nipples" she commanded.
Robby tried to duck his head to get a nipple, without
making her let go of him. It didn't work, so he pushed
her on her back and crawled between her legs, hovering
over her as she automatically drew her knees up toward
her chest to let him put his prick back in contact with
her pussy. She had had to let go of him as he moved,
and her hand found him again, grabbing him firmly and
pulling his prick to her entrance.
In this position Robby could hunch and suck at her
nipples while she again dug the head of his prick
between her pussy lips and used that to massage her
clit. Every so often she swabbed the tip down, into her
vaginal opening, because that felt good too. It was
just natural that, since she was pulling on him to get
pressure on her clit, he helped by pushing. And, it was
just natural that when she moved it to her pussy hole,
he pushed then too, pressing against her maiden
opening, as if knocking insistently at a door.
Debbie's hymen was the worse for wear, because her
fingers had plumbed her depths on many occasions. It
had suffered even more when Robby's thick finger dug
into her. She had felt twinges of pain in the past, but
they hadn't lasted, so she ignored them, just moving
her fingers away from that side of her pussy where the
twinges happened. Had her maidenhead been in less
abused condition, it might have put up more resistance
to Robby's prodding prick head.
But it wasn't in very good condition at all.
And, when Robby pushed a little more forcefully one
time, and the head of his dick slipped through her
tight sphincter, it happened so quickly that neither
teen was prepared for it.
Suddenly... QUITE suddenly... The head of Robby's prick
was surrounded by tight, hot, slippery pussy flesh, and
Debbie's pussy lips complained as they were stretched
farther than they ever had been before. That little
place that gave her twinges occasionally gave a yelp of
distress as what was left of her cherry was shredded
and the tatters pushed out of the way. That his prick
didn't go deeper was only because, as Robby had pushed
in the past, he pushed only so hard... only hard enough
to keep firm contact with his sister's pussy lips and
mound.
"OH! Owww" moaned Debbie, as she was penetrated for the
first time in her life by anything bigger than a
finger.
Robby froze, hearing the distress in her voice. He also
understood something new had happened, and had a pretty
good idea of what that was. He left his knob securely
locked in her, as her pussy lips closed tightly just
below the neck under that head.
"You OK?" he asked, breathlessly.
"It stings a little." she said, her voice not quite
whining. "It's stretching me."
"You want me to take it out?" he asked. He gave a
tentative pull, just enough to feel that he was firmly
stuck in her, and that if he pulled out it would
stretch her even more... or again, as the case was.
"No." she said. "Not yet. It doesn't feel so bad now. I
think I'm stretching or something."
Robby was in a quandary. He knew enough about his penis
that he knew it was bigger around in both directions
from where it was so firmly gripped. It didn't matter
if he went further in, or pulled back. The results
would be the same. It would hurt her.
"Maybe I'd better take it out." he panted. It felt
wonderful right where it was, but he didn't want to
cause his sister pain.
"No, it's not so bad now. Just don't move for a minute,
OK?" She was beginning to pant too.
"I have to do something." he said. "My back is starting
to hurt."
"Suck my nipples some more." she said. She wanted to
move her hips, but was afraid to. This was a whole new
feeling. The top of his shaft, right behind the head,
was in contact with her button, and she just knew that
if she thrust upward that contact would increase. She
wanted that contact to increase, but was also afraid
the pain would come back.
Her mistake was that, whenever he sucked her nipples,
her body did what it wanted to. She had never thought
about the fact that as he sucked, her hips moved. And
this time, when he sucked, and her hips moved, it
achieved what she'd wanted to feel. Her pussy climbed
the shaft of his penis about two inches and she was
stretched again.
There were competing feelings. Her clit shouted "YES!"
while her poor stretched pussy lips wailed "Noooooo"
The slight tear that was all that was left of her hymen
squealed and pumped a few drops of bright red blood out
of that tear as the bottom of his shaft scraped along
there, spreading that blood deeper into her channel.
Her nipple, which was being sucked into her brother's
mouth and bitten gently, added it's scream of "OH FUCK
YES!" to the mix, and that was what overpowered the
complaining parts.
Roby felt more of his prick enveloped by wet heat, but
by then it was too late to do anything about it. He let
her nipple pop out of his mouth and looked at her face.
Her mouth was stretched into a grimace, her eyes
tightly closed. She looked like she was in pain. He
automatically started to pull back, pushing with his
arms. He did it so quickly that it made a sucking
popping sound as his prick was jerked out of her pussy.
Her eyes snapped open and her grimace went to a round
shape.
"Nooooo don't take it out." she complained.
But it was too late. It was already out. They both
looked down to see his hard cock suspended over her
pussy. There was a sheen of moisture that went a third
of the way up the shaft. It glistened like a coat of
paint on his cock, with just the faintest tinge of pink
to it.
"It was hurting you." he said, pushing up to sit on his
calves and give his back muscles some relief. The sheet
slid off his shoulders and fell on his heels. His
sister's naked body lay spread eagle before him.
"It's COLD!" she said, reaching for him. "Come back."
she sat up and grasped his shoulders, pulling at him.
"And it felt good too."
Robby lay down beside her, pulling her on her side, to
cover them with the sheet again and hug her. He kissed
her lips.
"I don't want to hurt you." he said as she snuggled
against him, trying to put as much of her skin against
his warmth as possible.
"I told you it felt good too." she said. "It was
starting to feel even better. Put it back in." she
demanded.
"We can't." said Robby. "I told you. You could get
pregnant."
"You can take it out when you squirt." she countered.
Her hips were pushing against his penis, which was
still hard.
"You really want me to?" he asked, unable to believe
that she wanted something that hurt.
"Put it back in." she repeated.
It was, in one sense, mere exploration, just as they
had done before. But feeling that penis in her vagina
had awakened something in Debbie that had been
peacefully asleep before now. She had known, on an
intellectual level, what intercourse was, but had never
really thought to try it. It was a little like seeing a
food one had never tried, and thinking that it might be
good... that it could be good... but never actually
feeling like you wanted to put it in your mouth.
All that had changed as she felt the pain of, in a
purely sexual sense, becoming a woman. Now the thing
that had awakened deep in her brain had tasted that
strange food and the sensations were both bitter and
sweet. As if it had taste buds, her pussy wanted
another sampling of that new delicacy... wanted a mouth
full of that strange taste... so she could experience
it to the fullest.
Therefore, when she pulled her brother back on top of
her, and he tentatively pushed the crown of his iron
hard penis between her pussy lips, she unthinkingly
thrust up at him.
To take the food analogy just a bit further... she bit
off a little more than she could comfortably chew.
Robby felt her pushing up at him and his natural
response was to push back. They'd been doing that for a
long time - pushing their loins at each other - but
this time his prick, already lubricated with her slick
juices, pushed into her like a hand fitting into a too-
tight glove. The stretching sensation started again at
her pussy's mouth, as their lips went suddenly white
and thin as they tried to expand around not only the
head, but the shaft that followed. Then her tight pussy
clenched as the sensitive tissues were forced apart.
Her immediate response was to take in a big breath to
shout that it hurt and, at the same time, to drop her
bottom back to the bed in an attempt to get away from
the thing that was stretching her so cruelly.
Ironically, it was her body's attempt to get away from
the skewering spear that dropped her clit into full
contact with the top of his shaft as it went deep in
her. By then there were only two or three inches of
shaft left outside her body to scrape along her super-
sensitive bud, but those two or three inches made all
the difference in the world. The fact that Robby's
brain insisted on continuing to push once he was fully
seated in her sex also caused his pubic bone to smash
her clit as if it were trying to drive the little organ
back into its protective sheath.
Her clitoris wasn't about to surrender, however. It
fought back by engorging even more, becoming rubbery-
hard as it was over stimulated by pressure. It sent
screaming signals along neural pathways, calling for
relief.
The result was, that by the time her complaint of pain
reached her mouth, with its jaws clamped firmly closed
in a wide grimace, it turned from an expression of pain
to a groan of satisfaction as her body got exactly what
it had asked for... a pussy just stuffed to overflowing
with a nice, long, hard male organ and the beginnings
of a physical response called an orgasm rushing toward
her like an ambulance hurrying to give aid.
Robby, meanwhile, was caught on the horns of another
dilemma. As his penis was surrounded by hot pussy flesh
that hugged him like a sexual bear-hug, he knew
immediately that if he moved, even an inch, cum would
boil out of the tip of his prick like steaming water
gushed from Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park.
It was partly that feeling that caused him to keep
pushing, to stay as fully seated in his sister as it
was possible for him to be. He felt panic, joy and
ecstasy all at the same time. He was quite literally
overwhelmed with sensations and feelings.
Debbie, as her clit fought for its life, felt something
else, deeper inside her. It was another pain as the tip
of her brother's prick, which had defeated her outer
portal, found another doorway and tried to force its
way through that one as well. Her virgin cervix refused
to open, at least open enough to allow that invading
monster to push into the womb those gates guarded, and
that caused pain too. This pain was of a deeper type,
not sharp and stinging, but a dull ache that was
something like the ache in muscles that is eased by a
good, long, body-bending stretch.
Her pussy muscles tried to adjust and do that
stretching. What happened would probably have been
called a spasm by a Doctor, as her abused muscles moved
and shifted erratically, in almost a rippling motion.
Her screaming clitty's message flashed along a nervous
system that was overloaded with sensations. Her body's
response to this overload of stimulation was to act a
little bit like a circuit breaker. Except, in this
case, when the switch kicked to "standby", it energized
another circuit that her orgasm flowed along at
something close to light speed. Most of her body went
rigid, muscles locked temporarily in that "stand by"
mode, as the spasms took all the body's resources and
centered them on her pussy.
Robby too was dealing with an overload as Debbie's
twitching cervical lips tried to close, then open, then
close again, almost massaging the sensitive tip of his
penis. With a helpless groan, Robby's body did exactly
what it was designed to do. Automatic reflexes kicked
in and his body expelled the fluid that would sooth the
electric shocks that were torturing his penis. Creamy
fluid filled the tiny tube that was the primary
complainant in his body at the moment and, having no
place else to go once it had served that purpose,
jetted out of the tip of his cock, splashing all over
Debbie's tight cervical mouth. Then, not satisfied that
it had completely soothed his penis, his body served up
four more helpings of that warm cream, to ensure that
the stimulation was dealt with.
Debbie's cervix, told by some nervous communication
involved with her orgasm, finally relaxed, the lips
loosening fractionally and dipping outward to flow
around the blunt thing trying to batter its way past
them. Three soothing warm jets of fluid then splattered
into the soft dark cave deep inside her body that was
made to welcome that fluid.
In the space of some twenty or thirty seconds, a
million nervous impulses did what they were designed to
do and did it flawlessly. And, in the space of only
four or five seconds, even more millions of healthy,
viable sperm cells were transported from one human
being into another.
A miracle of nature had taken place in the space of a
few breaths, and even fewer blinks of an eye.
Debbie felt, on some level, the rush of wet warmth that
flowed into her body from her brother's penis. She was
instantly addicted to the feeling. She was addicted
before she had any conscious thought of what was really
happening, or the consequences of those actions. On a
purely metaphysical plane of existence, she knew she
had found the thing that made her the happiest she had
ever been thus far in her life.
Robby's experience was a bit more tortured. He knew
exactly what was happening before it actually happened.
He knew he was about to cum in his sister, and that
there was nothing in the world he could do about it. He
knew that even if he jerked his prick out of her, he
couldn't do it before he spermed her pussy. In his
mind's eye he knew he was going to fill his sister's
belly with life and the electrons bouncing around in
his brain visualized his emission as tiny full-formed
fetuses being injected into her womb, where the
thousands he saw would grow and burst from her body,
destroying her like some alien plague.
Even as he felt the explosion of ecstasy that went
along with his orgasm, he felt the misery of having
ruined his sister's life. He berated himself, admitting
that he knew better than to let her bully him into
doing this thing. At the same time he felt his body
insist that he stay right where he was until the last
feeble clench in his groin expelled the last few
straggling sperm cells from his body into hers.
Then, feeling completely miserable, he collapsed on top
of her.
They lay there gasping for breath for a few minutes.
Robby rehearsed in his mind the various ways he could
apologize to his sister, who would now probably hate
him for the rest of her life. He felt her hands come to
his waist, and expected her to push as her angry
outbursts began.
Instead her hands stroked along his sides, and up onto
his back, and then down to his buttocks.
"Oh thank you Robby" she sighed. "Thank you so much."
Robby was stuck speechless.
Debbie squeezed him with her arms. "I completely
understand why Mommy wants to do that now."
Robby found the energy to push with his arms, so he
could look at his sister's face. Perhaps the 'alien
invasion' had altered her already.
"I fucked you." he said. It was hard to tell if that
was a question or statement. The words sounded harsh in
his own mind, but that was how he characterized what
had happened.
She just looked up at him adoringly, her eyes big and
liquid brown suddenly.
"I wasn't supposed to do that." he croaked.
Debbie's hands left his sides, where they had come to
rest. She grasped his head gently and pulled him down
for a kiss. When it was done she let him go.
"When do you think you'll be able to fuck me again?"
she asked. "You didn't go nearly as long as Mommy and
Uncle Robert go."
Robby looked at her incredulously. He tried to roll off
of her, but she gripped him and rolled with him until
they were again lying side by side.
It took half an hour, but they talked about what had
happened, and how each of them felt about it. Robby
learned that, not counting the dangerous nature of the
transfer of body fluids, he had done nothing but please
his sister. She had already forgotten the pain and
discomfort she had felt initially. She didn't care
about the fact that he might have made her pregnant.
She would care later, but she was still in the grip of
the chemicals a woman's body produces during an orgasm
that are designed specifically to encourage her to lie
there afterward and let all that nice sperm soak in
completely before she gets up.
In the end he insisted that, IF they did this again,
they had to do it only at times when she was unlikely
to be fertile and that they had to try to find some way
to acquire some rubbers. She, on the other hand,
insisted that she would be extremely unhappy if he
tried to keep her from enjoying this new thing they had
found together, and that it WOULD happen again or he'd
be sorry.
While it sounds like they argued, it wasn't really like
that at all. It was more of a situation where each
pleaded his or her case about what they wanted the
future to be like. As with most teens, they couldn't
see very far into the future, and their plans were, for
the most part, short term. It was impossible, lying
there in the afterglow of sex, even if it wasn't 'good
sex' in a classical sense, not to give each other
little loving touches and kisses.
Once they had said what they felt the need to say, they
kissed some more. It was comfortable lying there
together. Their speech got less and less focused and,
eventually, they drifted off to sleep in each other's
arms.
That's how Ramona found them when she broke her routine
and came home for lunch for only the third or forth
time since she'd taken her job at the bank.
Chapter Twelve
==============
Ramona had entered the house with a lot on her mind.
She'd been thinking about what she and her children had
talked about the night before. She'd been thinking
about what Renee had said. And, most lately on her
mind, she'd been thinking about what she and Robert had
just done, right next door. Robert had a singular way
of trying to convince her that grasping women should be
the least of her worries. His soothing voice had come
with soothing hands and, like she always did when she
was around him, she was soon panting with passion as he
casually undressed her.
Then he had made love to her with his mouth, all over
her body, driving her to distraction by bringing her
close to an orgasm, but always pulling back before she
got there. Somehow he had gotten naked while he did
this, and when he stood to show her what she did to him
he smiled. He had placed his open hand under his balls
and that magnificent penis, like he was holding it,
about to lift it away from his body to present to her.
"This is yours, Rami. It has no purpose but to pleasure
you and give us children together. If you do not want
it, then it shall lie unused for the rest of my life.
You are my love, and I want no other."
She had burst into tears of mixed joy and hope and
frustration that she couldn't just be like any other
woman and love him and be allowed to love him. He had
mounted her, somehow knowing that she wanted him and
stroking her until her tears stopped flowing. She
confessed her own love for him again and though they
had done this many times, it was like the first time
for her. He was gentle and brought her to an orgasm
that was like being suddenly dipped in warm water when
it's freezing outside. Then he came in her, flushing
her full of warmth deep inside too.
Ramona's face got hot as she looked around the kitchen
to see if her children were there, where they could see
her reaction to remembering what had only happened
thirty minutes ago. But they weren't there and it was
quiet in the house.
Ramona went to her bedroom to change panties - the ones
she'd put on for work this morning were no longer
suitable to be worn in public - and she had to pass her
daughter's bedroom on the way. The door had been
carelessly left open and she saw the still forms of her
son and daughter clasping each other under the light
sheet.
Had Ramona not been in the afterglow of her own sexual
release, and had not her brother taken from her the
burden of worry and fear that had been laid upon her by
her friend, she might not have reacted to what she saw
in the way she did.
She stepped into the room and leaned over her children,
seeing that they were both asleep. Their faces were
beautiful and peaceful in repose and she reacted to
that like all parents do when they see their sleeping
children. There was an upwelling of love in her heart.
She noticed their bare shoulders, and understood
without having to look under the sheet that they were
naked together. But she and Robert had just been naked
together too. While she KNEW how that felt to her, she
also knew of the difficulties that siblings could
suffer when they had that kind of relationship. The
world was a harsh and unforgiving place for siblings to
be in love in. Before this moment she had been
teetering toward trying to convince her children that
what they felt was a dead end, and not worth the pain
and stress of keeping it alive.
But, what had just happened between her and Robert was
so powerful that she also knew that whatever means she
tried to use to keep her children apart... it would
fail.
She didn't wake them. Instead, she turned on her heel,
did what she had come there to do, and went back to
work.
=======================================================
===
That afternoon, Robert Ellsworth Nettleton appeared in
court, where the last of his legal issues was brought
to settlement. Robert, by use of well paid and
experienced experts, showed beyond any doubt that the
claims against his estate for "services rendered" were
frivolous and without merit. The gavel sounded
repeatedly as the ambulance chaser hired by greedy
businessmen to plunder the Nettleton fortune sagged
lower and lower into his chair. He had enjoyed visions
of a hefty income, based on thirty percent of what he
anticipated "recovering" for his clients. He had
already spent those hundreds of thousands of dollars in
his mind. He had thought that, when the judge scheduled
all six cases for one hearing, that the judge had
already decided to grant all his claims. Why else would
a judge try to do that much business all at the same
time? Instead, he began to wonder if he would still
have a job when he went back to the city and reported
complete failure. He berated himself for filing these
cases in a jurisdiction that was in the middle of
nowhere. He should have known not to let this hick
judge hear these cases.
"Mister Cochran." barked the judge when it was all
over.
The lawyer stood and looked up at the old man on the
bench. What did the old fart want now?
"If you ever appear in my court room again trying to
commit robbery, I'll have your license and if things go
like I want I'll have your balls too. Have I made
myself perfectly clear?"
Jeff Cochran was stung. Nobody treated him that way
back in the city. He was stiff with outrage as he
responded. "Your honor," there was a hint of sarcasm as
he said that, "I merely pursued the objectives of
reputable businessmen and believed their claims to be
legitimate. You can't fault me for that. That, sir, is
what lawyers do."
The judge scowled. "You just remember what I said,
young man. I doubt that will happen because you appear
to me to be an idiot. Next time some fly-by-night
contractor hires you, at least go look at what he
claims to have done. Now, get out of my courtroom. I
have REAL cases to hear!"
Robert, who had stood quietly as the exchanges took
place, merely bowed toward the judge, by habit, and
said "Thank you your honor."
The judge waved his hand. "Welcome back, sir. Some time
we need to get together. I'd like to hear what you've
been up to all these years."
Robert left the courtroom and went directly to another
office in the courthouse, where he paid a reasonable
fee for copies of certain documents on file there.
These he placed in his briefcase before leaving the
courthouse.
When he went outside there was a man waiting for him.
The man had a notebook and pencil in his hand.
"Mister Nettleton!" he called "Randy Stevens, of the
Howard County Picayune. Could I have an interview
please?"
"Certainly, mister Stevens. First a question for you,
if you don't mind. What, exactly, is a 'picayune'?"
Randy looked confused. "It's a newspaper, sir." he
said.
"I understand that," said Robert patiently, "But from
where does that word come? What did it mean before
somebody decided to use it as the name for a
newspaper?"
Randy was still confused. He was all of twenty-six
years old and, after graduating from college, had gone
home to live with his parents and work for the biggest
newspaper in the county. It had over two thousand
subscribers, which seemed like an awful lot to Randy.
"I don't rightly know the answer to that, Mr.
Nettleton."
"Ah," said Robert sagely. "No matter. I was just
curious." Robert had been having a little fun, trying
to needle the reporter. He was quite aware that a
'picayune' was a half dime coin that had been in use in
the South in years past. The dictionary definition
these days was "something of little value".
Randy, on his first real live mission as a 'society
reporter' just nodded and launched into what he thought
were penetrating and important questions about what
'the famous mister Nettleton' had been doing since the
tragic death of his parents. All this was the result of
his editor, one Hortence Robinson, age sixty, who had
seen the court docket and recognized the Nettleton name
from her youth. She had instructed her 'ace reporter'
to "get on down there to Nettleton and get me something
to put in the paper. It's been a slow week for news and
I need to fill a couple of columns!"
Thus it was that Howard County and the city of
Nettleton, found out that Robert Nettleton, the child
of murdered parents, was back in his ancestral home,
which was being refurbished in an attempt to restore it
to it's historical splendor. Roughly two thousand and
twenty people (twenty bought the paper from a machine
at the local grocery store) were pleased to read that a
nice young man who had done a whole lot of missionary
work overseas in six different countries, had come back
to spend some of his inheritance in Howard County. The
only sad part of the story was that, over the years, he
had lost touch with his sister, who had gone on to live
her life in anonymity somewhere. If, as Randy pointed
out sadly, she was even still alive. Hortence filled
her two columns and was happy. What with people sharing
newspapers like they did so often (to her
disgruntlement), it was quite possible that as many as
twenty-five hundred people in the county had read the
story. And if THEY talked about it to their friends,
maybe the other thirty thousand residents of the county
would be spurred to buy a damned paper themselves!
=======================================================
===============
Ramona was glad to leave work that night. She needed to
soak in a nice hot bath and relax. Her world had been
turned upside down and, though it was beginning to
settle, the world looked different to her than it had
such a short time ago. She was astonished at the
differences in the mansion. The landscaping was almost
done, with the exception of the part of the yard that
was reserved for contractor's vehicles to park in. A
large Gazebo had been built on the front lawn,
surrounded by flower gardens and a winding path of
flagstone. Hedges had been planted that, when mature,
would make walls along pathways, turning them into
private places, almost like a maze.
There was a fresh coat of paint on the structure. The
shutters had been repaired, along with various portions
of the facade and roof. The tower roof now gleamed with
a new coverting of burnished copper. The carriage house
had been renovated and even the old carriage in it had
been lovingly restored by one of the few people in the
country who knew how to do the work in the original
fashion.
The interior of the house looked like her dim memories
of the home she was born into. There were some new
things. She loved the stained glass windows and how
they cast bright color over everything. Electricity had
made a tremendous difference in the place, banishing
gloom and dark corners to a past that was also becoming
easier to make dim and unnoticeable. Robert had even
restored her bedroom to it's exact appearance in her
memory. Wood gleamed everywhere with oils and polish.
The musty smell had gone with the original fabrics
which had been replaced with authentic period designs.
She had noticed all these things in her last panicked
trip to see Robert, and then had really SEEN them as
she left. As she got in her car to go home and change
panties she had realized that the house in her
memories, the dark and forbidding place where so much
pain had been felt, wasn't there any more. THIS house
looked like a warm and inviting place, where only love
might live. It was unsettling in a strange way, because
she wasn't used to thinking about the Nettleton Mansion
as anything but a sad, dismal and lonely place.
And then she'd come home to find her children naked in
bed. That she'd left them alone still niggled at her.
It seemed like everything in her life niggled at her
right now. All she wanted to do was soak in the tub,
with maybe a little Mahler playing softly on the record
player. She wished she had a bottle of wine.
She entered the house to find that her children were
preparing supper. They had put together a green bean
casserole with crisped onions on top, and had made a
valiant attempt at frying chicken, though the breading
hadn't stuck and the pan was a bit too hot. There was a
pot of semi-mashed potatoes on the stove. A little
additional milk would finish them to a creamy texture.
There was also the smell of baking bread in the room.
"You baked bread?!" she asked, incredulous.
"Well, sort of." said Debbie, a little uncertainly. "It
didn't get all big and puffed up like when you do it.
Ramona looked into the oven and saw a loaf of bread
about half as risen as it should have been.
Still, it made her heart warm to think that the
children had done this for her. She announced that she
was going to let them finish while she took a bath. She
wouldn't get to soak quite as long as she'd planned,
but it would be enough. She already felt better.
Ramona wrapped a towel around her head, turban style
and donned her thick terrycloth robe, belting it
tightly around her body. She put on her fluffy blue
slippers and padded down to the kitchen. She paused in
the doorway. Debbie was stirring the mashed potatoes
industriously while Robby stood behind her, his arms
around her. It was obvious his hand were on Debbie's
breasts and she was wiggling her hips, pushing them
into Robby's groin.
"Robby!" scolded the girl. "Behave yourself. Mom could
be down any minute."
"I can't resist you." said her brother into the back of
her head as he breathed in the scent of her hair.
"You're sweet," said Debbie, and Ramona could tell she
meant it. "but knock it off. You're making me horny and
dinner's almost ready."
"Put it on warm." suggested her brother. "Mom's
probably still soaking. We could have a little fun
before she gets done."
"Mom's DONE soaking." said Ramona, stepping into the
kitchen. She almost laughed as Robby jerked his hands
away from his sister's breasts and stepped back,
looking embarrassed.
"Told you." said Debbie, looking over her shoulder at
her brother. Her cheeks were a little pink.
"The bathroom is free." said Ramona, sitting down at
the table. "In case you want to take a cold shower or
something." She wanted to smile at Robby, but didn't.
She didn't want to get into it with her children. Not
only was she feeling better, she wasn't at all sure how
much energy she could put into trying to make them
stop.
She changed the subject. "If not, I'm starved and it
smells wonderful in here."
They sat down to eat and the tension drained away as
they talked about inconsequential things. The food
tasted good and, if there was a little burn on the
chicken and the bread was heavy and dense, Ramona
didn't care. It was the thought that counted, and she
appreciated that.
That night they watched a movie together, all three
sitting the couch, with Robby in the middle, sandwiched
between the women. both leaned their heads on his
shoulder. It was such a satisfying evening that Neither
Ramona nor her children felt compelled to seek sex for
the rest of the night.
The next day Ramona was at her desk, head down, going
through the ever-increasing stack of bills and invoices
associated with the renovation of the mansion when a
shadow fell over her desk. She looked up to see her
friend, Renee standing there.
"You have a visitor." she said, smiling like the cat
that ate the canary. "I see now why you never answered
my question about whether he was cute or not. I
wouldn't want anybody to know what a hunk he is either
if he were mine."
Ramona's gut clenched. Robert? Here? In daylight?
Renee misinterpreted her look of consternation. "You
want me to stall him while you go freshen up?" She
looked absolutely delighted to be part of a conspiracy
to bag a rich bachelor.
"That won't be necessary" said Robert's deep voice from
behind Renee, who jumped visibly and blushed, having
been caught in her self-started conspiracy. "Ms
Franklin is quite lovely enough as she is, do you not
think so?" he asked in his odd speech pattern.
Renee was quick on her feet, Ramona had to admit that.
"Alas, for the rest of us, she is, indeed, quite
beautiful as she is." She turned to Ramona and winked
broadly. "Mister Nettleton is here to see you Ramona.
Shall I get you both something to drink? We have...
ah... water, I believe."
"If I were to drink anything, I should be forced to
drink in the beauty of two such lovely women." said
Robert, bowing.
Renee flushed bright red at the compliment and gasped
as Robert reached for her hand to kiss it.
"Ah..." he sighed. "I see that you have foolishly wed
another man. Oh well, such is life. It shall be
difficult, but I shall go on."
He said it in a way that made it obvious he was poking
a little fun at Renee. But the feel of his fingers on
hers, and the thought of all that money made her pussy
squirt. She removed her hand from his and, with a sigh,
left for her own desk.
"What are you doing here?" whispered Ramona, staring up
at her brother.
"Why, I'm visiting my account representative at this
wonderful bank." he said. "Is this something I should
not do?"
"But you're... YOU." she said.
He moved to the chair beside her desk and sat down,
just as the president of the bank hurried up to her
desk.
"Ah, Ramona... Mister Nettleton... we're honored that
you visit with us today. I'm Frank Peterson, President
of the bank. Would you like to move to the conference
room? We can call out for some refreshments."
Robert stood. He assumed a somewhat stiff physical
demeanor that was utterly alien to Ramona, and his head
came up a trifle. There was a smile on his face,
though, that softened the look of superiority.
"Thank you so much, kind sir." he said graciously. "I
only wanted to come in and convey my thanks to this
fine woman who has done such a wonderful job thus far
in managing my accounts. I understand that she caught
someone trying to take advantage of me and has resolved
the matter. I appreciate it when someone cares for my
welfare."
Frank fairly wiggled with excitement at Robert's words
of praise for Ramona. "Well, we try to serve." he said
happily. "And Ramona is one of our best."
Ramona shot him an incredulous look at the blatant lie
and then listened in disbelief as the man went on.
"As soon as your... ah... man... suggested her I knew
you had instructed him to find only the cream of the
crop. We treasure our Ramona here at the bank." he said
importantly.
"Yes..." said Robert. "I'm sure you do. And now I
treasure her too. Isn't that nice?" He reached over and
patted Ramona's hand. "Thank you my dear. I have a lot
of money, but I appreciate you saving some of it from
that unscrupulous contractor. Perhaps you could let me
express my thanks more effusively over dinner?"
Ramona couldn't believe what was going on around her.
She was so unsettled that she parroted the company
line. "Thanks so much, but employees aren't allowed to
date customers."
"Nonsense!" barked the president, a small frown
appearing between his eyebrows. "Mister Nettleton isn't
just a customer. He's almost family."
It sounded ridiculous to everyone within earshot... and
there were suddenly a LOT of employees within earshot.
His comment about family, even though it was obviously
ignorant of the true situation, struck Ramona like a
blow.
Almost as an afterthought Peterson went on. "And you
two can discuss a little business at dinner. That will
make it all perfectly on the up and up."
It was an almost blatant pimping of the resources of
the bank, and everyone in the room knew it. Frank
Peterson was all smiles though, as Robert nodded.
"Yes, that would be fine. Alas, I have no automobile
yet. Nor have I hired a chef. Would it be too base of
me to call for you in a taxi this evening? Where would
you like to go? I'm so new in town that I fear I have
no idea of good places to eat."
Ramona saw Frank taking a breath that she feared would
lead to all kinds of problems as he made what would
likely be insane suggestions. Without thinking it
through she spoke.
Mr. Nettleton, as it happens I live right next door to
your house. Perhaps you'd like to just have dinner at
my house. I have two children, but I'm sure they
wouldn't mind having a guest for dinner."
Robert lit up, his smile wide. "What a stupendous
idea." he said. "I accept!" He reached for her hand and
kissed it like he had Renee's. "What time shall I be
there?" he asked. "And which of my neighbors are you?"
His acting was impeccable to the point that Ramona even
found herself believing he didn't know anything about
her. She described how he could get to her house and
suggested that she could have dinner ready by seven. He
grinned and, whirled to find twenty people standing
around the desk, staring at him.
"You have a wonderful bank." he pronounced, as if he
had gathered them together intentionally and was now
delivering a planned speech. "Thank you so much."
Then he strode for the front door, the sea of people
parting before him as if he were a huge ship on the
ocean.
There was a general babble of excitement when the front
door closed, and several customers looked around,
wondering what was going on, and why no one paid any
attention to them at all. Frank Peterson shooed
everyone back to their work stations and then turned to
Ramona.
"I'll arrange for a catered meal immediately." he said
brusquely.
"Sir," she objected. "He's only coming for dinner. He's
just a man."
"No, Ramona" said Frank, that small frown back between
his eyebrows again. "He is NOT just a man. He's a very
RICH man. We only have one depositor who has more money
in our bank than he does. That depositor is this man's
sister, and we haven't heard from her in so long that
I'm not sure she's even still alive." If this man
withdraws his money from this bank, almost a third of
our assets will disappear in a puff of smoke and I
don't want to even THINK of that happening. Now, you go
home and get ready. I really wish you hadn't offered to
meet him at your house. Do I need to hire a cleaning
team?"
Ramona's face had gone from pale, at his mention of
Robert Nettleton’s sister, to pink and then a mottled
reddish purple as this thoughtless man suggested her
house wasn't a fit place to entertain one of the bank's
customers.
"I do NOT need the services of a cleaning team, mister
Peterson. And I do NOT need anyone to cook a decent
meal for me and a guest! If you don't think I can
adequately entertain Mister Nettleton I will most
HAPPILY contact him and tell him that he's just going
to have to HAVE DINNER WITH SOMEONE MORE ACCEPTABLE
THAN I AM!"
When she was finished shouting she was breathing
deeply, her shoulders rising and falling, her fists
clenched. Frank Peterson recognized something that all
men must learn to recognize, if they hope to survive in
this world... the sound of a woman who is pissed off...
and who is pissed off at HIM.
Everyone was staring at them again and Frank raised his
hands. "OK, OK, Ramona I was just suggesting it so that
you wouldn't have to take so much of your time to
prepare. No harm done. In fact, take the rest of the
day off. That way you won't have to hurry."
He abruptly turned and went back to his office. Ramona
saw a few grins on the faces of her co-workers. She sat
back down angrily, and began to sort her papers,
getting ready to do just what Peterson had suggested -
take the rest of the day off.
Renee appeared at her desk. That she was excited was
evident in several ways. She was almost panting, her
face was a wreath of smiles, and her nipples were
poking firmly through her bra and blouse.
"He's GORGEOUS!" she whispered excitedly. "And he's
coming to YOUR house for dinner!" She took a moment to
breathe. "You want to send Robby and Debbie over to my
house? So you two can be alone?"
Ramona, still furious, glared at her friend.
Once again Renee misunderstood what was going on in
Ramona's mind. She held up one finger and pointed it at
Ramona, like a knife that she meant to threaten her
with.
"Now you listen to me Ramona Franklin. Don't screw this
up. I don't care if he's quirky or even a pain in the
ass, which he does NOT appear to be to me. You be NICE
to him tonight. I swear I'll tear your hair out if you
mess this up. You deserve to have a decent man in your
life and he looks plenty decent to me."
Ramona's eyes had gone round with surprise at the
forcefulness of Renee's admonitions.
Renee deflated, her anger melting away like a snowflake
on a July day. She sat down at Ramona's desk and leaned
close, speaking more softly, pleadingly.
"Come on sweetie, give the guy a chance. He likes you.
I could see it in his eyes. Get to know him a little.
What could it hurt. If he's really a jerk you can blow
him off later. You'll never get another chance like
this and maybe he could even make you happy."
Ramona sensed the honesty and care in Renee's voice,
and felt a little guilty that Renee was pleading for
something that had already been done.
"OK" she sighed. "I'll be good."
Renee grinned. "Excellent. But don't be good. Be bad.
Be very bad. what size are you? I have this perfectly
delicious little number that would look really good on
you and leave him drooling. We're about the same size
aren't we?" She nattered on, full of ideas of ways
Ramona could seduce Robert Nettleton, while Ramona
tried not to giggle and loved her friend for what she
was trying to do.
In the end Ramona waited to leave until lunchtime, when
Renee could run home and show Ramona the dress she
wanted to offer for the seduction of Robert Nettleton.
When Ramona saw it she actually blushed. It would show
off almost every inch of skin on her body, and would
allow access to every part of her without any barriers
at all. It was a scandalous dress.
"I can't wear that in front of my children." protested
Ramona.
"I told you, send them to my house. I'll order pizza.
Teenagers love pizza. They'll be fine. What do they
care about some guy coming to dinner anyway?"
"More than you might think." said Ramona without
thinking.
"Well, take the dress anyway. Talk to the kids when you
get home. If they want to come visit aunty Renee then
tell them they're welcome. OK?"
Ramona went one way while Renee went back to work. She
parked the car and went in the house, carrying the
scandalous strips of flimsily cloth that somebody had
decided to call a dress. She was distracted enough that
she didn't call out to her children.
Once again she approached her daughter's bedroom door,
and once again it had been carelessly left open. Once
again her children were in the bed together, and once
again they were naked.
But they were most definitely not sleeping this time.
Debbie's elbows were hooked under her knees, which she
had pulled up, toward her head and spread widely. Robby
was between his sister's thighs, his hands on either
side of her breasts. His lips were firmly suckling one
of her nipples as he slid his long, hard teenage prick
slowly in and out of his sister's pussy.
To Ramona it looked almost like a slow motion film.
Robby's movements were measured and almost gentle, as
if he were easing his penis into his sister's sex while
she was asleep and he was trying not to wake her. When
he reached full penetration he stopped, grinding his
pelvis against hers before slowly dragging his penis
out of her again. Only Debbie’s soft repeated "Yes...
yes... Oh Robby", said at normal speed, spoiled the
illusion that time had slowed.
Ramona's pussy squirted at the tenderness of the
copulation going on before her eyes. She thought of her
children's statement that they had never done this and
felt the hurt of a parent lied to. Just then Debbie
sighed.
"Oh Robby, I'm so glad we decided to try this. This is
so... I feel so... I can't believe how much time we've
wasted not doing this. I completely understand why
Mommy wants to do this." Then she began to pant too
hard to talk, and she pulled her knees harder, her head
lifting off the bed. "Oh Robby, it's going to happen...
Oh ROBBY! OHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMmmm"
Ramona's pussy clenched as she realized her daughter
was having an orgasm. Even the orgasm seemed to be in
slow motion, almost quiet and serene. At that moment,
Ramona gave in. She recognized in her children the same
love and affection and satisfaction she felt with her
own brother, and had felt for years without any feeling
of shame or guilt. Her children's lovemaking was so
tender and sweet that she somehow knew it was as real
as what she shared with Robert.
She stayed long enough to see Robby's buttocks clench,
his penis fully embedded in his sister, as he gave a
low groan of satisfaction. Ramona knew what was
happening inside her daughter. She could almost feel
the wet heat of Robby's sperm flowing in her own pussy.
She turned silently and tiptoed back the way she'd
come. Dinner could wait. She needed to go see Robert.
She took the dress with her.
Chapter Thirteen
================
Ramona found her brother at the mansion. Again he was
talking to a worker, this time about the choices for a
heating system for both the house and the water system.
The workman was suggesting that the house, even though
renovated, was too big for a conventional system, and
was recommending that a boiler be installed. It would
handle all the heating needs and could be slaved to the
new duct work being installed. Ramona stood quietly,
waiting for them to finish.
Robert turned his head and saw Ramona. He smiled and
told the man to do whatever he thought would lead to
the best result.
Then he turned to Ramona, looking at the cloth in her
hands.
"Renee gave me this to wear at dinner tonight." she
said, by way of explanation. "She wants me to seduce
you."
"Smart woman." he commented. "Perhaps you'd show me
what the dress looks like now? Upstairs?" He grinned.
She wanted to take his hand and lead him there herself,
but didn't. There were too many people around. "Yes."
she said simply.
She followed him and, when they were locked in the
master bedroom, he watched silently as she stripped in
front of him. Naked, she stepped into the dress and
pulled it up and onto her body. Her breasts were a
little smaller than Renee's, and her nipples showed in
the gap of the bodice. It was as if she was wearing
almost nothing.
"It doesn't fit well." she said.
"Perhaps she'll tell you where she got it, so I can
have one made to fit you better." he said.
She dropped the dress in answer. She was panting.
Their lovemaking was not, in any way, shape of form,
slow motion in nature. Ramona was wild for him, her
emotions having been at a peak ever since seeing her
children on the bed. She told him what she'd seen, and
then bit his shoulder, so intense was her first orgasm.
He sensed her need and waited, controlling his own urge
and pounding her through two more orgasms before he
asked for, and received permission to jet her full of
his seed.
As they lay spent in each other's arms, she kissed the
teeth marks she had left in his shoulder.
"I hurt you! I'm sorry." she said.
"It was stupendous. You must spy on the children again
sometime. It made you like a tigress."
She was both too relaxed to slap at him and too
astonished that some part of her reacted positively to
his suggestion to say anything. Instead she got up and
got dressed and then went back home, making as much
noise as she could both in the garage, and in the
kitchen, banging cupboard doors and talking to herself
as she got some juice to drink. She unconsciously took
inventory of what there was to prepare for her
brother's visit that night.
Debbie sauntered into the kitchen.
"Hi Mom." she said brightly. "What are you doing home
so early?"
There wasn't anything in Debbie's voice that suggested
that Ramona shouldn't come home early, or that maybe
her mother was trying to spy on her children, but
something deep in Ramona was tired of the secrets and
the lies that had flowed around this household like
smoke from a fire. It was an unconscious decision on
her part to do what she did. One might say she was
actually driven to do it in a sense. For whatever
reason, she turned and spoke.
"I saw you this afternoon." she said, looking at her
daughter. Debbie had a healthy glow about her, almost a
radiance. Ramona had heard the coarse term "well
fucked" but now she was seeing it and it made all kinds
of sense. Her heart fluttered as she realized she
probably looked exactly the same way. She felt
fabulously fucked and it had to show.
"What? When?" asked Debbie, confused. They hadn't left
the house all day. When their mother had left for work
the teens had succumbed to a hormonal attack and had
been trying to ease that itch all day long. Though
Ramona didn't know it, the time she'd seen them was
actually the fourth time that day that Robby had
emptied his balls into his sister's well-fucked belly.
"About an hour ago." said Ramona, taking a drink of her
juice.
"Oh." said Debbie, thinking furiously. There was only
one place they had been an hour ago. They had spent the
first half of the morning in Robby's room, when she
snuck in and jumped on top of him and then got pinned
like a 109 pound wrestler in a 135 pound match. Then
they had transferred to her room for the slower, more
sensual lovemaking, where she called the shots.
"OH!" said Debbie, her stomach doing flip flops.
"I thought you told me you two hadn't gone that far."
said Ramona, her voice sounding unconcerned enough that
it caught Debbie's ear and made her tense up.
"We didn't." said Debbie hurriedly. "Not until
yesterday. When you left for work I went to tickle him
and he got excited and then I got excited and..." She
looked at her mother. Debbie knew that this was a time
when things could work out for the good, or things
could go horribly wrong. "I thought about you." Debbie
said, stopping again. "I thought about how happy you
were when you were with Uncle Robert and we were...
watching." Debbie took a step toward her mother. "And I
knew that you wouldn't do that unless it was something
really special and important. And Robby's important to
me, so I made him do it to me."
"You made him?" asked Ramona, impressed that her
daughter had been not only willing to tell her what
happened, but pretty capable to express her state of
mind at the time too. Most kids just got carried away
and did things without thinking at all.
"He didn't want to at first." said Debbie. "He was
afraid it would hurt me."
"And did it?" Ramona was shocked that she'd asked.
"It did at first. But Mommy, you know what it's like. I
could hear it in your voice. And now I understand,
because I felt it too. I never felt anything like that
before."
"So you wanted to feel it again today." prompted
Ramona.
"Yes." said her daughter, hanging her head. "Do you
hate me now?"
Ramona reached out and took Debbie in her arms.
"No, baby, I don't hate you. I'm afraid for you. I
worry that this will hurt you later, but I don't hate
you. I love you. I told you that will never change.
The tension that was in Debbie broke and she cried on
her mother's shoulder, mixed tears of relief, and
happiness, and grief for making her mother worry. "He
loves me mother, and I love him so much I can't tell
you how much." she cried into her mother's hair.
Ramona smoothed her hands over her daughter's back. "I
know, sweetheart, I know. I understand exactly how you
feel."
That was pretty much it. There were no protestations
that they wouldn't do it again, and no threats about
what would happen if they did. The mother/daughter
relationship had fled by all that, leaving it in the
dust as each accepted in the other some things they
might have wished were different.
"Your uncle is coming to dinner tonight." said Ramona.
Debbie pushed back. "Really? I don't hate him any more
Mom."
Ramona laughed. "I can't stay mad at him either. It's
terrible. He came into the bank today and asked me out
on a date!"
Debbie made shocked sounds and then demanded to know
everything. Like two best friends they chattered
together as Ramona started pulling things out of the
fridge to make a salad and described everything that
had happened, like one girl telling another how a date
with an interesting boy had gone.
Their squeals and laughter brought Robby to the
kitchen, looking surprised.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Debbie held up a finger to her mother. "Don't tell him.
I want to tell him later, OK?"
Ramona nodded, surprised, thinking that Debbie meant
Robert was coming over that night. But, as Debbie then
launched into a retelling of what had happened at the
bank Ramona realized that Debbie wanted to talk to her
lover about being discovered - while they were alone.
That was OK with Ramona. She'd had enough drama for the
day.
When Debbie got to the part where Renee had invited the
kids over for pizza to let Ramona be alone with the
rich man so she could seduce him, she giggled, enjoying
the same irony that Ramona had.
Robby had been grinning for some time. "So, you want us
to do that Mom?" he asked. "Go over to Renee's I mean?"
Ramona felt a rush of tenderness. Her children were
going to let her have her happiness. But she shook her
head. "No, that would be too out of character for me.
We're going to have to make it look like I'm playing
hard to get." She realized, as soon as she said it,
that it sounded like she was going to let people think
there WAS something between her and Robert Nettleton.
That thought buzzed in her brain and her alarm bells
went off. What she and Robert had must remain a secret.
All would be lost if anyone besides her children found
out.
The kids exploded into action, running around, cleaning
the already-clean house, like they had before the last
disaster that had been a visit for dinner by Robert
Nettleton. This time they would know who he was, and
what that meant to their mother. This time it would go
much better.
Robert showed up at the front door precisely on time,
and he had both a bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses
in his hands. It was Debbie who answered the door,
based on her mother's frantic shout that she was at a
critical point in the gravy making and couldn't leave
the stove.
While there is no scientific proof to back this up, the
author is quite convinced there's a gene in females of
the species that is there just to make sure that, when
a woman sees flowers in a man's hand, her sex drive
kicks in. Debbie had never received flowers from a man,
but she had that gene, and it kicked in. It kicked in
even though Debbie's conscious mind knew quite clearly
that the flowers were for her mother, and not for her.
That gene just isn’t sophisticated enough to tell who
flowers are for.
It's true. If you don't believe it, just deliver a vase
of flowers to a woman in an office somewhere who works
with other women around her. You don't even have to
know the woman. In fact, it's better, for the sake of
the experiment, if you DON'T know the woman. Just
deliver her flowers with a card that says "An anonymous
admirer" and act like a normal delivery guy. Then watch
the OTHER women in the office. They'll light up, and
smile and make all kinds of vaguely sexual sounds and
the smell of wet pussy will waft on the air.
If you watched those women as closely as Robert watched
his niece, you'd see their pupils dilate as that gene
tells the pleasure center of the brain to release a
squirt of dopamine into the bloodstream.
And that's for flowers they know aren't even for them!
Of course, by the time they get home to their men...
not bringing flowers home to put on the table... that
dopamine will have diluted to pretty near nothing as
other emotions replace the initial wish for a nice hard
cock in that wet pussy. The replacement emotions,
unfortunately, generally result in statements like:
"Janice got flowers at work today. Nobody ever sends ME
flowers at work! You haven't slept on the couch for a
while. Maybe it's worn out. Maybe we need a new one.
Why don't YOU sleep on the couch for a few nights just
so we know for sure."
Of course it's possible that that is another function
of the 'flower gene' and that if the urge to mate is
not satisfied within a reasonable time after the
flowers are introduced into a woman's life... whether
they're for her or not, the gene then brings about
these other reactions.
At any rate, Robert, his observation skills honed by
being a foreigner in hostile places for years, DID
notice Debbie's pupils dilate. And he saw in those
young eyes a wish that the flowers were for her.
His plan changed, adapting to new circumstances.
"I have here wine for your beautiful mother." he said.
He winked and said "Perhaps she will lower her guard
tonight if she drinks too much?"
Then he extended the bouquet of flowers.
"And these are for my beautiful niece, to begin to make
up for ruining her playhouse and bringing so much
turmoil to her life."
Debbie's 'flower gene' told her brain to go ahead and
give another squirt of dopamine. She took the roses and
smelled them.
"I don't think you need the wine to get Mom's guard
down." she said, smiling.
He smiled back. "Ah, then perhaps I can convince her to
give you a little."
His flirting reference to what he had said the wine was
for created an instant flock of butterflies in Debbie's
stomach. Her recent arrival at full womanhood still had
her hormones at high levels, and attention from a man,
even one she had so recently disliked, kicked those
hormones into little storms in her body. She felt her
nipples crinkle and blushed.
Debbie backed up and ushered her uncle into the house,
and, because he was family, on into the kitchen,
instead of the living room. It was a little thing in
her mind, but it registered with him in a big way. He
wanted his niece and nephew to like him. In one sense
he NEEDED his niece and nephew to like him if his plan
was going to work out like he wanted it to.
"Look Mommy!" Debbie squealed as she went to her
mother. "Uncle Bob..." she faltered and turned to
Robert. "Is it OK if I call you Uncle Bob?"
He smiled again and nodded. "I prefer it."
Debbie turned back to her mother. "Uncle Bob brought me
flowers!"
Ramona had turned when her daughter first spoke, and
saw the roses in her hands. Ramona had the gene too, of
course, and she knew immediately who had brought them.
She too assumed they were for her, but her reaction to
her daughter's statement wasn't one of disappointment.
She was thrilled for Debbie, and was quite able to use
her own shot of dopamine to channel her pleasure to
happiness at her little girl's pleasure.
"How sweet" she said, feeling a rush of emotion for her
daughter. "And roses too! You better watch out for him
Deb."'
Her mother's unknowing reference to her uncle's teasing
remark wasn't lost on Debbie and she blushed again.
She'd never really thought about what it might be like
for a man other than her brother to pay attention to
her. It was true that boys at school liked to look at
her, but they were just a distraction to Debbie, and
not material for serious consideration. They couldn't
stack up to Robby, and they for sure couldn't stack up
to her uncle.
Debbie decided to do some teasing of her own. "He
brought wine too. He says it's to make you let your
guard down." She smiled sweetly at her uncle.
"Curses!" quipped Robert, twirling imaginary long
moustaches. "My plan is foiled again!"
Debbie teased her mother next. "I told him he didn't
need the wine." she said. "Then he said maybe you'd let
me have some."
Ramona laughed. "You REALLY need to watch him then. I
had hoped I'd be woman enough to satisfy him." she
wiped her hands on a towel and went to Robert, clasping
him in her arms and kissing him soundly. "Perhaps I'll
have to try harder." she said when the kiss was over.
Robert ground his seemingly ever-hard penis into
Ramona's mound. "I could not help myself." he said, as
if it were nothing of consequence. "She looks very much
like you did when you were her age."
Ramona laughed again. "You're a silver tongued liar. I
was a skinny plain girl when I was Debbie's age, and
nothing any boy looked at."
"You looked like she looks to me." said Robert, kissing
her gently. "And you were as desirable to me as she is
to any man who sees her now."
That flower gene I mentioned earlier? There's another
one too. It's a gene that takes compliments and
transforms them into more dopamine. Debbie was
beginning to like her uncle very much.
Robby sauntered into the kitchen. "Smells good in
here." he said.
"Uncle Bob got me roses!" announced Debbie proudly,
thrusting them out in front of her. Not having been
thrown to the ground and ravished while her brain was
still fogged with dopamine, the other response in
Debbie poked up it's head.
"Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before." she said to
her brother, her eyebrow raised slightly.
Robby, having neither the 'flower gene' nor Robert's
skill in observing other human reactions to various
stimuli, made the same simple mistake that most men
would make.
"That's nice." he said. "When do we eat? I'm starved."
Not knowing that his bed had just magically turned into
a couch, he sat down at the table, his eyes going
hungrily to the bowls of food already set out.
Debbie, thoroughly disgusted with her brother's tepid
response to her obvious suggestion that he should have
given her flowers beginning long ago, and frequently
since then, and not having received the apology that
would have kept his bed a bed, decided to punctuate her
displeasure with her brother. She went to her uncle,
put her arms around his neck, said "Thank you Uncle
Bob." and kissed him soundly on the lips.
Robert hadn't been kidding when he told his sister
that, in his mind, she had been just as beautiful as a
teen as her daughter was. He DID think Debbie was a
delectable slice of womanhood. And, he had no real
designs on his niece sexually, barring the occasional
fleeting fantasy most men have when they see a good
looking woman. But he also had no internal prohibition
against incest, and he did, in fact, want his niece to
like him so his plan could go forward.
So Robert kissed his niece like he meant it. Which, of
course, he did. He returned her hug with strength, and
Debbie felt, for the first time in her life, a hard
penis other than her brother's, pressing into her mons.
He didn't use his tongue - that would have been much
too personal at this early stage of his relationship
with his niece - but he didn't need to. Debbie felt
faint as she received a real kiss, from a real man,
that made real things happen inside her body.
Debbie also had no designs sexually on her uncle. She
had appreciated the flirting and innuendo on a basic
female level. The kiss demanded more, also on a basic
level - male - and it took her breath away.
Robert, being the more experienced of the two, released
her, his hands on her waist, and said "You are most
welcome."
Debbie stumbled backwards, reaching for a chair and sat
down. She was already re-thinking her plan NOT to visit
her brother's bedroom that night.
Ramona had seen what happened and knew what Robert's
kisses were like. She felt no panic or jealousy, like
she had at the thought of grasping hussies trying to
steal Robert from her, for his money. Her daughter was
no threat. Her daughter was part of her. Her daughter
deserved to experience that kind of kiss. She stifled a
giggle at her daughter's reaction to the kiss.
"You shouldn't do that to a poor innocent girl." she
chided Robert. She reached for the roses in Debbie's
suddenly limp grasp. "Here, let me put those in water
before you drop them on the floor."
Robby, who had watched his lover kiss another man, felt
less hungry quite suddenly. He somehow knew he was
involved in that kiss, but couldn't quite put his
finger on how, or why. He glared at his uncle.
Robert sat down, seeing the glare coming from his
nephew. He used camaraderie to repair hurt feelings. "I
see why you like to kiss her." he said, winking. "Her
lips are soft and sweet, yes?"
Robby, less comfortable with talking about what he and
his sister had been doing, and completely unaware that
his mother knew all of it, felt his face get hot.
"Well... you shouldn't... I mean we... Oh let's eat!"
he said, giving up on trying to deal with the subject.
Robert laughed. "I tell you what. From now on I will
not kiss your sister unless you say it is OK to do so."
He looked at Robby for agreement, and when he saw
Robby's astonishment he twisted the verbal knife. "And
you shall not kiss MY sister like that unless I say it
is OK to do so." He folded his arms across his chest
like he had made some royal decree, and leaned back in
his chair.
Robby was aghast. "I've never kissed my mother like
THAT!" he yelped.
Robert picked up his napkin and began to arrange it on
his lap. "Well you should some time. Her lips are
tender and sweet also." He grinned.
"BOBBY!" scolded Ramona, putting a platter of meat on
the table. "You have no shame!"
"This is true." said Robert, nodding his head. "When it
comes to kissing beautiful women I have no shame. I
have just joy that I get to do so."
Robert relented and stopped teasing as they all sat
down to share food. Instead, he listened with glee at
Debbie's retelling of the scene at the bank when he had
come in and invited Ramona to dinner.
In a fateful way, the telling of that story, and the
laughter it produced, set the stage for Robert much
better than anything else he could have done. When it
was clear the story was over, and the chuckles had died
down, he put down his fork.
"I am thinking of something." he said, as if he had
just thought of it that very moment, when in fact he
had thought of little else ever since he had heard that
Ramona's husband had died so tragically.
Three sets of eyes fastened on him.
"Here I am, having dinner with Ramona Franklin and her
lovely children." he said. "And people in town are
assuming I find her desirable." So far he hadn't said
anything that caused any stir.
"I do find her desirable." he said. Ramona blushed,
even though she knew her children were quite aware of
just how desirable he found her.
"And on a first date, I should get to know some things
about her, yes?" he asked.
Three sets of eyes blinked in confusion.
"Tell me, Mrs. Franklin, if you would," he paused for
effect. "What was your maiden name when you married Mr.
Franklin?"
"Ramona Shanks." replied Ramona automatically.
"How interesting." mused Robert. "I had heard a vague
rumor that you had a different name at one time."
Ramona stared at him. "I changed my name, Robert. You
know that! What are you getting at?"
"And how many people here in this delightful little
town, would remember you as Elizabeth Nettleton?" asked
Robert, his eyes boring into his sister's.
Ramona blinked again. "I don't think anybody would."
she said. "They'd all be so old now. Most of them have
passed on already, I'm sure. What in the world are you
talking about?" she asked, exasperated.
Robert waved a hand negligently. "I was just thinking
that if Robert Nettleton found the widowed Ramona
Franklin, and wished to date her, no one would think
that strange in the least."
He waited until there were somewhat dazed nods of
affirmation from the other three people at the table.
Ramona's looked a little doubting, but there was
suddenly hope in her eyes.
Then he dropped the bombshell.
"And, if, as I recall, a wedding license requires only
a maiden name and some form of identification. It seems
to me that the names of Ramona Shanks, also known as
Ramona Franklin, paired with that of Robert Nettleton
on such a document, would not appear strange to anyone
either."
He gave another negligent wave of his hand. "That is
all I was thinking."
He picked up his fork and took a bite as if he had
merely suggested that having a picnic in the park might
be a wonderful idea.
There was a moment of hushed silence, so complete that
Robert's chewing could easily be heard by the other
three. A clock ticked loudly on the wall over the sink.
Robby's chair creaked slightly as he shifted his
weight. Then the fork Ramona had been holding over her
plate fell from her fingers, to bounce off her plate
and clatter against her glass.
"You can't be serious!" she said, her voice hushed.
Robert looked at her calmly. "I have never been more
serious in my life."
Debbie's lip quivered. "You'd be my Daddy?"
Robert shook his head. "People would call me your step-
father, but I could never replace your real father. I
am content that you think of me as uncle. In fact, even
if you were to call me 'Uncle Bob', I don't think
people would find that too troubling, yes? You are
almost adults yourselves, and to call a step-father
'uncle' instead of father would suggest your respect
for the man who helped create you."
"But you'd live with us?" asked Debbie.
"I had hoped you would give some thought to living with
ME... in our family home." he said.
"In the Manor?!" Debbie said. She leaned forward. "We
could live in the Manor?!"
"I would be most happy if the Nettleton mansion was
again filled with happy... Nettletons." said Robert.
"But perhaps we move too quickly. Your mother has said
nothing."
Debbie's face turned to that of her mother. "Mommy?"
she asked, her voice high.
Ramona looked gray. She was looking fixedly at her
brother. "You don't fight fair." she said, her voice
low. "You would bribe my children to force me to live
in that place."
Robert held up his hands, palms outward. "No, dear one.
This is only a dream I have had... that our home could
be brought back, and the sadness chased out. That we
could be together as we were, free to love each other.
But I would never force you to do anything. If you
choose to marry me I would be happy beyond my ability
to proclaim. But if taking you home cost me your love,
or cost you your happiness, I would not ask you to do
that. I love you Elizabeth." He used her real name
intentionally, to remind her of what they had felt for
each other when she still used that name. "And if I
must love you from afar, in the dark of night, then so
be it. I would never force you."
Ramona looked torn and sad. "But we could never marry.
That's craziness."
Robby ventured to say something. "Mom?"
She looked at him.
"What he said... about your maiden name. It makes sense
to me. I don't think anyone would think it was odd."
"I suppose you want to go live there too." said Ramona
tightly.
"No! That's not what I meant at all Mom. I don't care
where we live. But I've seen you... when you look at
him. You don't look at anybody else like that. I didn't
even like him at first, but he makes you happy, doesn't
he?"
Ramona's weak spot had been probed. Robert did, indeed,
make her the happiest she'd ever been, both in the past
and now. "That's not fair." she said petulantly. "You
KNOW I love him."
"Well gee, Mom," said Robby with sarcasm in his voice.
"What do people in love do? They get married Mom."
Ramona still didn't want to make a decision. Something
deep inside her lit up at the thought of openly calling
herself Robert's wife. But she was still afraid. She
veered off from making that decision.
"I suppose, since you love YOUR sister, you want to
marry her too?" she asked, throwing Robby's sarcasm
back at him.
"No." he said immediately. "I would, if I could, but
people know who we are. Mom, they DON'T KNOW who you
really are. Nobody knows. Debbie and I didn't even
know. You could do this Mom. It would work." He waited
several heartbeats and then added "If you wanted it
to."
Ramona had felt the pressure building ever since she
heard Robert speak of marriage licenses. It had grown
as Robert pulled at her heart strings. Debbie's
attitude, though mercenary to some degree in Ramona's
mind, suggested strongly that her hatred of Robert was
a thing of the past. And now Robby approved of this mad
scheme.
"Of COURSE I would want it to work." she groaned.
"Nothing would make me happier than to be... really BE
Bobby's wife."
"Will you then at least think about it?" asked Robert.
"You know good and well I'll think of nothing else
you... you... you MAN!" she barked.
"That is all I could hope for." smiled Robert. "And
we," his hand swung in a small circle that included
Debbie, Robby and himself, "We will refrain from
speaking of this again until you have had time to
consider this." He pushed his plate away. "In fact, I
shall leave now, so that my presence does not sway
you."
Ramona stood too. "But Bobby..." she held out a hand.
"What about tonight?" Ramona had planned on wearing the
dress for him again that night, before he left."
As if he could read her mind he said "My sweet, the
dress will wait for another night. I am quite serious
about this idea, and you need to be serious about your
decision when you make it. I tell you now, I will abide
by it, and my love will not lessen, whatever you
decide. I care most for your happiness. If there are
conditions under which you would accept, then think on
those, so that I may abide by them too."
He stepped away from the table. "If I were to stay, I
would hold you and kiss you and make love to you, and
that would not be fair. No, you must think on this."
He stepped over to Ramona and took her hand. Very
slowly and tenderly he brought her hand to his lips and
kissed the back of her fingers.
"Mrs. Franklin, I was honored to be invited to your
home for dinner. I had a wonderful time, and would like
to see you again. May I call on you at the bank?"
Ramona sat down hard and her shoulders shook with a
mixture of laughter and tears as her emotions boiled
over.
"Go on!" she barked, wiping her face with her hands. "I
can't think with you in the house!"
Robert bowed to his niece and nephew and wagged a
finger at them. "Remember... not a word to your
mother."
He had made it to the front door on his own when he
heard Ramona's shriek.
"YES! YES YOU MAY CALL ON ME AT THE BANK!"
He was smiling as he closed the front door behind him.
Inside it was not as happy a place, at least not for
Ramona. She sobbed, mostly just to release her
emotions, but because as much as she wanted her
brother's crazy idea to work, she just couldn't believe
it would. Somebody would remember, or find out, and
then everything would be ruined. One moment she decided
firmly it was too great a chance to take. Then she slid
down the slippery slope of thinking how wonderful it
would be if it DID work. She felt arms around her - two
sets of arms - and heads placed against each side of
her own. They said nothing. They were just there.
She looked up with tearstained eyes at her children,
first at Robby and then at her daughter.
"You have to tell me what to do." she sobbed. "I don't
know what to do."
Debbie had made tremendous strides toward becoming an
adult in the past month or so, but she wasn't quite
there yet. She pantomimed turning a key to her lips and
then threw it over her shoulder.
Ramona raged at them, then jumped up and stalked all
around the kitchen, circling the table. She picked up
one of her pieces of good china and drew her arm back
to throw it, so great was her rage and frustration. A
hand gripped her wrist, clamping it in a way that felt
completely unbreakable, and the plate was pulled from
her fingers. She turned to see Robby, his face grave,
and she realized he was seeing her throwing a tantrum.
She wilted, and flowed against her son, who handed the
plate to Debbie and hugged his mother tightly. He
kissed her hair and said soft words that everything
would be all right. Her rage abated as quickly as it
had come and she looked over at Debbie, who had tears
running down her cheeks too, though she cried silently.
There was pain on her face and Ramona couldn't take
that. She reached out an arm and drew Debbie into the
huddle.
They stayed that way for a long time, just holding each
other.
Chapter Fourteen
================
In the end, it was Debbie who spoke first. "We love you
Mommy. We will always love you. It doesn't matter what
you decide to do... we'll love you."
"I know" Ramona sighed. "Will you two do the dishes?"
she asked.
They both nodded and, after a warning to be careful
with her good china, she went to soak in a hot bath.
She always thought better in a hot bath.
Back in the kitchen Robby and Debbie worked on the
dishes silently. Seeing their mother in such obvious
distress had sobered them. They'd never seen her like
that, and it impressed on them like nothing else could
how serious this was to their mother.
When the last dish had been carefully dried and put
away in the china cabinet, Debbie went to her brother
for a hug. The hug turned into a kiss and Debbie felt
his arousal pushing at her.
She touched his face, and then pushed him away. "If Mom
can't do that tonight, then we shouldn't either." she
said, drawing on that special secret set of rules that
only women have access to.
Robby groaned, but didn't argue. He too had taken long
strides toward manhood, and knew that sometimes you
just did what the woman wanted, whether you understood
it or not.
Instead of chasing their newfound joy, they sat
together on the couch and watched TV for a while, just
being together. Had you asked them what they were
watching they wouldn't have been able to tell you. Like
their mother, they were thinking about what life might
be like in the Nettleton mansion. Oddly they weren't
thinking about the glitter and expensive wood and
trimmings. They were both thinking of being able to
love each other in those rooms, where their love had
taken root, and grown and blossomed.
When they heard the bathroom door open, and saw their
mother in her robe, heading toward her bedroom, they
stood and went to their own rooms too, hoping to find
sleep. Debbie dropped Robby off at his door, kissing
him a long, sensual kiss.
Inside his room, Robby still tasted that kiss. Like any
man, when the woman he loves kisses him like that, it
gets him going. It was a warm night and he lay down
naked on his bed, his erection standing tall. He
reached for a tissue and began to stroke his lust away.
Ramona had been able, in the bath, to let her mind
wander. She let it go where it wanted to, beginning
with memories that were tattered, like a battle flag
shot to pieces and torn by the wind. Those were the
oldest memories she had, of her mother, and her
bedroom, and her dolls. There was no pain in those
memories. Then there was the memory of Bobby, pulling
her through the darkness of the secret passageway,
telling her to be quiet. She shook the screams out of
her head and pushed her mind to her mother's face, eyes
open and staring. She hadn't understood what was
happening then, and only later in life did she learn
what that meant. Instead of letting her manufactured
memories mar her mother's face, she tried to remember
the eyes, eyes that looked like they were focused on
some far distant place... a better place... where there
were no screams ever.
A sudden memory assailed her, unremembered these long
years. She had been at the woman's house, and had cried
that she wanted her dolly. The woman had held her,
saying that the dolly was gone, but that she'd get her
a new one. That doll was probably still in her room
next door. The doll wasn't gone. It had lain there,
alone all this time, waiting for Lizzy to come back and
hold her again.
She had caught herself half crouching in the bath,
unconsciously having started to get up and go get her
dolly. The air was cool and she sank back down in the
tub. Somehow, knowing that her doll was there was
comforting. It would be there tomorrow, and she'd go
get it then.
Her mind stayed in the house, in the room where she now
believed her doll lay. All she had of that room were
good memories. It occurred to her that it wasn't the
house that had killed her parents. Men had done that.
Greed had done that. The house couldn't stop it from
happening. The house had, in fact, protected Bobby and
her as they hid in its dark secret places. Then she
thought about what the house looked like now, the last
time she'd seen it. It wasn't dark and painful there...
not really. There was pain associated with it, and that
pain would never really go away, but the house wasn't
responsible for that.
And now, against all odds, Bobby offered her something
that, if somehow it worked, would fulfill all her
dreams and let her spend the rest of her life sharing
that love.
Except that she couldn't believe it would work.
Her own doubts were strong, but her mind flitted back
to what her son had said. He had said it WOULD work.
Her children, who had been so violently opposed to the
man next door, had altered their opinions to the point
that they were in FAVOR of this crazy idea.
She sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in her fluffy
robe. She wanted to hear somebody tell her it would
work again. She stood and went towards her son's room.
=======================================================
========
Robby lay on his bed in the warm evening. He was naked
and his hand was wrapped firmly around his straining
prick. He had given it only a few leisurely strokes
when he heard a soft tapping at his door. His face
broke into a grin as he thought Debbie had relented,
and was going to allow him that special closeness after
all.
"Yeah." he said toward the door. It opened and a female
figure slipped in quietly.
But it wasn't his sister. It was his mother.
Ramona knew instantly what her son was doing when she
slid through the door. His pale body was stark against
the dark blue bedspread he was lying on. She saw the
head of his penis protruding from his closed fist as
his hand moved upward and his foreskin slid over the
large knob at the tip. Her mind instantly returned to
what she'd seen the day before, as that same long penis
had plumbed her daughter's depths.
As happens so often in life, little things... powerful
little things... have the capacity to alter the way we
look at things.
I'll give you an example. When newlyweds come back from
a honeymoon, we look at them a little differently than
we did before they got married. We look at them as
fully realized sexual beings. We know they have lain
together while he rutted in her pussy and delivered up
his seed to his chosen mate. We know that she welcomed
that. Before this we knew them as Ralph and Cindy, and
might have known a little about them beyond that. And
there might even have been a little fantasy about what
Ralph or Cindy was like behind closed doors.
But now we KNOW they are sexual beings, and that may
change the way we interact with them, even if it's only
in a few unimportant ways.
Ramona knew her son was a sexual being. She had
actually seen the evidence of it. Robby knew his mother
was a sexual being. He had actually seen the evidence
of that.
And, in this case, there was another little powerful
thing that altered what would have been their normal
behavior. And it was the same for both. For Ramona,
that little powerful thing was her unsatisfied lust,
which her brother had left her with. For Robby it was
the lust his sister had refused to sate.
Robby, who would normally have rolled over and doubled
up to hide what he was doing from his mother, just said
"Mom!"
Ramona, who would have backed out the door, or at least
turned her back on him, just said "Oh!"
Robby, startled and not thinking too clearly, said "I
thought you were..."
"Debbie" his mother finished for him.
Part of the reason Robby was so unsettled was the gap
in his mother's robe, which showed an awful lot of
white skin, clear down to the point where it was
obvious she was probably naked under it. Now Robby did
think about rolling over to hide his erection from his
mother. But that seemed childish to him, so instead, he
rolled off the bed and stood, to reach for the gym
shorts that were on his desk chair. He bent over and
stepped into them, pulling them up. While that hid his
penis from his mother's eyes, it did nothing to make
his erection less obvious, since the shorts tented out
almost obscenely.
Ramona thought now about turning to leave too,
embarrassed about the feelings in her loins that were
produced by her memory of her son's penis sliding into
her daughter's mound, and seeing that penis again. But
that would have left everything unsettled and she
needed something to settle herself down.
"I'm sorry." she said softly. "I just wanted to talk."
She felt the strangest urge to ask him to take the
shorts back off.
"Oh." he said, sitting back down on the edge of the
bed. His eyes strayed to her open robe again, and he
made his eyes go elsewhere. "What about?" he asked,
realizing immediately how stupid that sounded.
Ramona, though, heard invitation in his question, and
never thought about how obvious it was about which she
wanted to speak.
"Did you really mean what you said? About it working?
About what Robert... suggested" she asked.
Robby forgot that he wasn't supposed to argue in favor
of the proposal. His mind latched onto something that
was firm in his mind, and allowed him to think of
something other than his mother's naked body under her
robe.
"Sure" he said easily. "Nobody knows who you are.
Debbie and I didn't even know. And the whole town knows
by now that a Nettleton has come back to the manor,
right? Has anybody said anything to you about that?"
"No" she admitted, liking the feeling that he might be
right. Her nervous hands toyed with the loose ends of
the knot holding her robe closed.
"And don't you think that, if anybody had any suspicion
about who you are, that they'd have said something to
somebody? I mean even if they didn't say anything
directly to you, wouldn't there at least be rumors? And
wouldn't you hear those rumors at the bank?"
That idea caused real hope to bloom in Ramona's heart.
He was right. There WOULD be rumors if anybody
suspected. And it was a small town, where rumors flowed
freely and quickly.
"I know it seems weird, but I think you should do it."
said her son.
Ramona wanted to pace. Everything she had heard made
her heart leap for joy. She wanted to believe. Still it
was hard.
"So you wouldn't mind going to live... there." Ramona
unconsciously turned to face the direction of the
Nettleton mansion.
"Mom, I don't think Debbie and I care where we live as
long as we can all be happy." His mind flitted to the
image of his mother, her legs spread as his uncle
powered his prick deep into her, and her exhortations
of joy. He spoke without meaning to. "And it was
obvious that being with him makes you happy."
His comment brought again to Ramona's brain the sight
of him on top of his sister, making her... happy. That
fanned the fires of her unsatisfied loins. She felt the
sudden need to leave the room. What she was thinking
wasn't right. Not about her own son.
"Thank you." she said breathlessly. "I have to go now."
She moved toward him, though, instead of turning and
leaving.
Robby stood up. What happened then was a result of
completely normal urges on a very complicated level. It
was completely normal for son to expect his mother to
hug him, and it was completely normal for her to feel
the urge to do that on a motherly level. It was
completely normal for her to kiss him on the cheek and
wish him a good night. All those things were normal on
an unconscious level. But their embrace was also
between two people who were very aware of the sexual
nature of each other, on a level that had nothing to do
with mother and son.
That caused Robby to move his head fractionally as she
kissed him, which resulted in that kiss being on his
lips, instead of his cheek. And, her nervous picking at
the loose knot of her robe had caused it to fall apart
as she stepped toward him, and, when she pressed her
breasts to his chest, there was no cloth between them.
The kiss, and the feel of her hot, soft breasts
pressing against his naked chest, shocked them both and
unleashed something that, until then, had been on a
tether of sorts. What resulted was not the simple kiss
good night that each had expected. What resulted was a
tight clasp as soft lips demanded something much more
intimate. Robby's penis, never having gotten soft,
pressed the fabric of his shorts between his mother's
legs, where it contacted her swollen and sensitive
labia and prodded her clitoris, sending an electric
shock through her body.
You hear of moments suspended in time, or of time
moving in slow motion as minds whirl at light speed,
watching something unfold. That was what happened to
both of them as, on one level they felt the emotions
that demanded their lusts be satisfied. On another
level, though, both knew that what their bodies wanted
was something that could ruin everything. And both,
having found something precious in recent weeks, were
strongly averse to having everything ruined.
Their lips slid off each others so they were cheek to
cheek.
"We can't." said Ramona, her voice a croak.
"I know." said Robby, his voice tight.
"I want to." confessed his mother.
"Me too." confessed her son.
They managed to push each other away, but he drank in
her nakedness through the gap of the robe, and her eyes
went to the bulge that had so electrified her just
seconds ago.
"I have to leave." she said, panic in her voice.
"It's OK Mom" he managed. "I love you."
"We'll talk about this later." she gasped.
"OK." he said simply.
Ramona almost ran from the room then, fleeing to the
safety of her bedroom, where she threw off her robe and
bounced onto her bed, legs spread, fingers dipping into
slipperiness that brought her to orgasm almost
instantly.
In his room, Robby didn't even get his shorts off
before he grasped his penis and jerked it furiously,
spurting semen in long arcing ropes that landed on his
floor.
=======================================================
=====
The next morning Ramona woke early. She didn't want to
face her son and, since she had left work early the day
before, she went in early to get her work caught up.
That had the side benefit that she didn't have to face
her son either. She was very uncomfortable that the
penis she visualized in her mind, when she had her
orgasm the night before, had flitted back and forth
between Robert's and her son's.
She had an hour of uninterrupted work before Renee came
in and demanded to know what had happened the night
before. Ramona tried to play it off as a normal first
date, and that there was just light conversation
between her, her children and Robert Nettleton.
"Did he kiss you good night?" Renee asked avidly.
"No." said Ramona truthfully. She didn't count a kiss
on the hand as a good night kiss.
"Did he try?" asked Renee, unwilling to give up her
fantasy that her friend would bag this rich bachelor.
"Please tell me he tried at least."
"He kissed my hand, like he did yours." said Ramona.
"I thought I told you to be bad!" complained Renee.
"Did you wear the dress?"
Ramona ducked her head. "I meant to, honestly I did.
But the kids wanted to stay and meet him, and I
couldn't wear it with them there."
"Remind me to talk to those kids of yours." said Renee
trying to sound gruff. "At least tell me he asked you
out again."
Ramona tried to smile uncertainly. "He did ask if he
could call on me again."
"Oooooo that's so continental and romantic." gushed
Renee. "And THIS time those kids are coming to my
house, or you're going out with him or something. Maybe
you could suggest that you eat at HIS house. There have
just GOT to be at least ten or fifteen beds in that
place!"
Ramona didn't have to try to blush. It was easy. Renee
was so blatant about her innuendo.
"Renee!" she scolded. "You're trying to get me to act
like a slut."
"Oh posh!" said Renee. "All I'm doing is trying to get
you to let him see the woman in you. You're a sexy,
desirable woman, Ramona, and there's nothing wrong with
that.
Ramona shooed her friend away from her desk and went
back to work. She noticed that several other employees
seemed to be watching her from time to time, but no one
else gave her the third degree. Frank Peterson did stop
by her desk, but all he said was "I trust everything
went well last night?" When she nodded he grinned like
a Cheshire cat and left.
Everything was fine until a delivery boy came in around
ten in the morning with a dozen red roses. This time
they were for Ramona. Renee got to her desk at the same
time as he did and plucked the card out of the little
plastic holder it was in before Ramona could get it
herself.
"Thank you for a wonderful night." she read. She raised
an eyebrow at her friend. "A wonderful night?" she
asked. "As in ALL night maybe? Are you holding out on
me Ramona?"
Ramona stood up and snatched the card from her friend's
hand. "I told you. All I got was a kiss on the hand. I
didn't even get a hug. Get your mind out of the gutter
Renee."
Renee grinned. "Well, if he gave you a dozen roses for
letting him kiss your hand, I can't WAIT to see what
you get when you finally cave and let him make you
REALLY happy." She skipped off to her desk before
Ramona could make an angry retort.
==========================================
Robert's proposal weighed heavily on Ramona's mind all
morning. Finally she took the phone book and leafed
through it until she found the number for the clerk of
the Howard County Court. She waited until lunch, when
the bank was closed and almost everyone was either at
lunch or out of earshot, and dialed the number.
It she got transferred to three different people before
a woman came on the line who said she took care of
adoption records. Ramona posed as a family member of
someone who had been adopted and wanted to know who her
parents were.
"I know this isn't what you're going to want to hear,"
said the woman on the phone. "But those records are
sealed, and only with a court order can they be
opened."
"What would it take to get a court order?" asked
Ramona, her heart in her throat.
"There are very few things that the judge will accept."
said the woman. "In my experience, about the only thing
that will usually work is if there is some medical
reason. By that I mean that the adopted child has some
kind of medical need to know who the parents were so
that doctors will be able to understand how to treat
something. Even that's pretty rare these days, because
medical science has progressed so far." she said
apologetically.
"No, there's nothing medical. She just wants to know
who her parents were." said Ramona.
"I'm afraid that's not going to cut any mustard with
the system." said the woman.
"So there's really no way to do this." said Ramona,
hope surging in her.
"Well, there are a few special circumstances. When was
the adoption?" asked the woman.
Ramona's hope faded just as quickly as it had arisen.
"It was back in the thirties." she said.
"Oh, I'm sorry." said the woman, her voice taking on a
note of sorrow. "I didn't realize it was that far back.
I can tell you right now that there's nothing we can
do. There was a fire in the basement of the courthouse
back in the early 1950s, and the adoption records from
before that were destroyed."
"There's nothing left?" asked Ramona, shocked.
"Nothing from before 1951 or so." said the woman. "I'm
really sorry."
Ramona hung up the phone and stared at nothing. Even if
someone suspected something, there was nothing to prove
who she really was, or at least who she had been.
Excitement ripped through her and she sat back in her
chair, out of breath. She'd been holding her breath
unconsciously and now panted.
For the rest of the day she was like a school girl, who
imagines taking on the name of a boy, and practices
writing it out that way, as if she were already
married. Now she couldn’t wait for Robert to contact
her.
But he didn't.
When she went home that night she thought about
stopping at the mansion, to see him, to scream that she
would, indeed marry him.
But she didn't.
Instead she went into the house, bursting with the joy
of her decision, and wanting to share it with her
children.
But they weren't home.
There were two notes on the fridge, one from Debbie
that said she had gone over to Crystal's house, and
would be eating dinner there, returning home not later
than nine that night. The other was from Robby, saying
he'd gone to the pool, would eat out with his friends
and come home "sometime tonight."
She was so full of energy she couldn't sit still, and
trying to do things around the house didn't satisfy her
either. She had made a habit of jogging in college, and
had kept it up off and on when she got married, but
hadn't run for years, ever since giving birth. She tied
her hair back into a pony tail and went looking for
something to jog in. In the end she had to go to
Robby's room, where she found his gym shorts hanging
off his desk chair. She pulled them on, acutely aware
that his stiff penis had been covered by them when she
last felt them against her own pussy, and shivered at
the thought. On a wild impulse she took them off,
removed her panties, and pulled them back on so the
cloth would be right next to her pussy. Then she put on
a tank top over her bra and left at almost a sprint.
She lasted two blocks before she had to stop, bent over
and gasping for air. She hadn't known she was that
badly out of shape. After resting she started again, at
a much slower pace, and alternated between jogging
slowly and walking to catch her breath. It was just
what she needed to work off her excess energy.
Ramona stayed out for over an hour, waving at people
she knew as she jogged or walked along the streets of
Nettleton. She reveled in the thought that, to these
people, she was just the widow Franklin, a mother of
two nice children, a teller at the bank.
She jogged up to her own sidewalk just as a car stopped
at the end of the driveway and Robby got out. He was
still in his swimsuit, with a T shirt on, and his towel
around his neck. She jogged up to him, giddy with her
news.
"Mom!" he said, his eyes surprised to see her dressed
like she was... doing what she was doing.
"Don't look so surprised. Your old mother used to jog
all the time when she was younger." said Ramona,
smiling.
"I'm not surprised." he said, obviously lying. "You
look good." he said without thinking. His face got a
little darker. "Of course... um... we already know
that." he floundered.
Ramona noted his obvious reference to the night before,
when she had looked so good that he was painfully
erect, but her joy at making her decision overrode
that.
"Yes we do." she said. "How good do you think I'd look
in a wedding gown?" she asked.
Robby's face went through a flitter of different
emotions before settling on a wide grin.
"Really? You said yes?" He leaned toward his mother.
"Well, not yet." she admitted. "But I'm going to. Is
that really OK?" she asked anxiously.
Robby grabbed her in a tight hug. "Of course it's OK."
he said into her hair.
The closeness of their embrace suddenly made itself
known to them and the broke apart.
Somehow it was easier for Ramona to talk about what had
happened between them out here in the yard.
"About last night." she said.
"I know" he said putting up both hands. "I was excited
and I was out of line."
"Oh!" said Ramona, off balance because he had done what
she intended to do... apologize. "I was excited too. It
was really my fault."
Robby had long ago reconciled in his own mind that what
he and his sister did was something special to them
both, and had rationalized it in his mind somehow. But
feeling the same kinds of feelings for his mother had
been unexpected and didn't seem believable to him
somehow. He had been worried about it all day long.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Sure, honey." was his mother's immediate response.
"I know how I feel about Deb. I mean I know how that
happened. But I don't understand why I could feel like
that about you too... last night." he confessed.
Ramona found herself asking the same question, to which
she had no ready answer. But just the fact that it was
out in the open, and that he was willing to talk about
it, made her want to try to answer that question for
both of them.
"Come inside. Did you eat? I'm starved after running.
We can talk about it while I get something to eat."
He agreed and they went into the house, where Ramona
started making herself a grilled cheese sandwich.
In the end it was an amazingly frank and open
discussion, like two co-workers, both of whom are
married to someone else, but who are attracted to each
other in ways that society would not approve of. They
approached it by admitting what they had felt, and how
inappropriate those feelings were, but agreeing that
the feelings were real.
"So what do we do now?" asked Robby in the end.
"I don't think we should just let our emotions run
rampant." said Ramona. "I think that might cause
problems." she said, understating how serious those
problems could be.
"Mom, I have to say that I don't think I can just
forget what you felt like... last night." said Robby
seriously.
"Me either." she admitted. "But we can avoid letting
that happen again." said his mother.
"Yes. Definitely." he said.
"And when you get... excited... you should talk about
that with Debbie." said his mother.
"Talk about it?" he asked, his eyebrows rising."
"You know what I mean." she said, blushing. "Don't make
me say it out loud to my own son."
He grinned. "I love you, mother." he said. "I want to
hug you again right now.
Ramona smiled. "I'd like nothing better myself, but the
way I feel right now, it would be a big mistake."
Robby's prick lurched in his swimsuit at his mother's
admission that she wanted him the way he wanted her.
"Where IS Debbie?" he asked suddenly.
Ramona laughed. "She'll be home later. I wanted to tell
her about my decision before I said anything to Bobby,
but I don't know if I can wait to go see him."
Robby laughed. "If I have to be horny... it's only fair
that you have to be horny too."
Just then the back door slammed open and Debbie came
bouncing through it, bubbly and happy from her day with
her friends.
"Hey you guys!" she said merrily. "What's going on?"
"I need to talk to you." said Robby, grabbing her hand
and pulling her toward the bedrooms.
"Why's mom laughing so loud?" asked Debbie, stumbling
to keep up with her brother.
Debbie found out what he wanted to "talk" about quite
soon.
"We can't do this now!" she hissed. "Mom's right
downstairs."
"Mom knows what we're about to do." said Robby, sliding
his swimsuit off and pulling his shirt over his head.
His penis strained outward, at full erection.
"What?" Debbie blinked. She wasn't ready as her brother
grabbed her and kissed her deeply.
"Get naked." he ordered tersely. "I'll tell you about
it in a minute."
Debbie, resistant at first, began to thaw as he got her
clothes off of her and went to work on her nipples with
his mouth, and her pussy with his fingers. Then he
switched to her pussy with his mouth until she writhed
and moaned under him.
It wasn't until he was balls deep in her that he began
to tell her what had happened. He had already decided
that there was no way he'd be able to hide how he felt
about his mother from his sister, and that the time to
tell her was while he was proving how he felt about
HER.
Robby stayed buried in his sister as he began to tell
her what had happened the night before.
"You weren't supposed to talk to her about it." panted
Debbie, wriggling her clit against the base of Robby's
prick.
"I know, and then this other thing happened." He told
her about the hug, and the open robe, and the kiss, and
how he had felt.
"I can't believe you." gasped Debbie, on the brink of
an orgasm. "It's bad enough you do this to your
sister... Uhhhhhhhhhhnnnnggggg" she was interrupted by
the orgasm. When it faded enough that she could talk
she went on. "And now you tell me you wanted to do this
to our MOTHER?!"
"I couldn't help it." he gasped, beginning to move in
her as his balls tightened. "It just happened and I
couldn't control my thoughts."
"Was she pissed off at you?" asked Debbie, thrusting
her pussy up onto his rigid prick.
"No, she felt the same waaaaayyyyyyyyy" Robby groaned
as his prick fired spurts of spunk into Debbie's pussy
as he ground into her hard.
Robby lay down on his sister, gently crushing her and
kissing her neck as he caught his breath. "I felt like
I was cheating on you." he said softly. "I felt bad."
Debbie loved the weight of her brother on her, and the
warm feeling of his spend in her. She wasn't sure she
liked the idea that her lover was horny for her mother,
but she didn't quite know WHAT to think about that.
"So, while you're making a baby in me, you think of
her?" she asked.
He pushed up. "No! That's not it at all. Just now all I
was thinking of was you, and how good you feel. What do
you mean making a baby?" he asked distractedly.
"Well we haven't used any birth control since we
started doing this." she said. "What do you THINK is
going to happen?"
He groaned. "I don't know. I thought about it the first
time. But when you were'nt mad at me I guess I just
don't think about that any more."
"I think you don't think about a lot of things." said
Debbie, pushing him off of her. She rolled sideways
with him. "I love you, but you're a real goof
sometimes." she said. Then she grinned. "So does that
mean I get to be horny over some other guy? How about
Uncle Bob? He's kind of cute. I got all fluttery in my
stomach last night when he flirted with me. What if I
wanted to make love with him? How would you feel then
mister 'I didn't think about it'?
Debbie might not have been aware of it at her tender
age, but there are men who find it erotic to think
about sharing their woman with another man. Robby
probably wasn't aware of that particular kink either,
to be honest, but the reaction he had was that of one
of those men. He felt his recently deflated prick begin
to stir.
"Would you really do that?" he asked, his voice husky.
Debbie missed the lurking passion in his voice, intent
on continuing to tease him. "Maybe" she said, drawing
it out. "How does THAT make you feel?" she taunted.
Robby rolled back on top of her, kissing her hotly. "It
makes me want to do this." he hissed into her hair,
hunching his stiffening prick up against her pussy
lips.
They ended up in another passionate clinch, as Robby
humped into her roughly this time, shaking her with the
force of his thrusts. Debbie flung her legs wide, her
own passions ignited in some hazy way. She didn't think
about her uncle or her mother. She just reveled in
having her lover's surging penis inside her as she had
another orgasm and felt him add even more of his
dangerous spunk to what had already soaked her
vulnerable womb.
This time, he rolled off of her gasping, limp from
expending so much energy. Then, as they lay there, hand
in hand, he told her the rest of it. He told her about
meeting their mother outside the house, and how they'd
talked about their feelings for each other, and how
they'd decided they couldn't satisfy those feelings.
Last of all he told her that their mother had decided
to marry their uncle.
Debbie's reaction to that was surprising. She jumped
up, put her clothing on hurriedly, all the time saying
things like "Why didn't you TELL me?!"
To which is answer was "I did. Just now!"
Which brought her heated "Why didn't you tell me
SOONER?!"
To which his answer was "I was BUSY!"
Despite the fact that it sounded like she was mad at
him, Debbie leaned over and kissed him on the lips, a
hurried, but full-of-love kiss, and then she dashed out
of the door, calling for her mother.
Ramona, however, knowing what her children were doing
in one of the bedrooms, and knowing what her decision
about Robert was, couldn't wait any longer to go see
her brother. Still dressed in her jogging clothes, she
ran back outside, hopped in her car, and drove the
short block to the mansion. It was late now, and all
the workmen were gone. She felt funny knocking, but
didn't want to just burst in. While she was standing
there, her hand poised to knock, the door opened and
there was Robert, standing there.
"YES!" shouted Ramona.
"Yes what, my darling?" he teased.
"You KNOW yes what!" she growled and flung herself
at him. He staggered as she hit him and then tripped on
the oriental rug inside the door, falling and pulling
her with him to the almost inch thick Persian rug.
Ramona scrambled up on top of him, sitting on his
stomach and grabbing his wrists, which she leaned on to
pin beside his head.
"I love you so much." she said softly.
Then she kissed him and began blabbering about her
fears and the call she'd made to the court house. She
talked earnestly as Robert lay listening and then
tugged his hands loose, sliding them up inside her tank
top to cup her bra-encased breasts. Then she told him
about what Robby had said to her as he rolled her
sideways and began slowly stripping her clothes off.
She talked as if he were not making her naked, under
the influence of relief so strong that it caused her to
natter on, telling him about what she'd thought about
in the bathtub. She didn't stop to take more than a
snatched breath until she found herself naked on the
rug, her brother leaning over her and sucking one of
her spiked nipples. The ache and the pleasure that shot
from that nipple throughout her body finally shut her
up.
"Oh Bobby" she sighed.
He left her long enough to strip his own clothing off
efficiently.
She suddenly realized her nakedness, and where they
were. "Here?" she panted.
"Oh yes my sweet." he grunted, pulling his socks off.
She wailed as he came to her and thrust into her with
no other preliminaries. She was sopping wet, she found
to her surprise. She continued to cry out as he made
her crazy with his stiff manhood, probing her deeply
and triggering an orgasm that she wasn't ready for.
Then he lay on her, moving his whole body up an down
hers, grinding her body into the baby soft fibers of
the rug under her and extending her cum as his pubic
bone smashed her clit.
"I am so happy." he grunted. "To finally have what I
have wanted more than any other thing." he gasped.
"Will you have my babies sweet Rami?"
"Oh YES!" she shrieked. "As many as you want." she
cried, as she felt his seed flush into her. They rested
momentarily as she breathed into his ear, more softly,
"As many as you want" again.
But it was not comfortable on the floor, soft as the
expensive carpet was. He rolled off of her and she sat
up, a little dazed.
"The carpet!" she gasped. "It will be stained!" She
clapped her hand over her weeping pussy mouth, to hold
in his copious discharge, and tried to roll off the
carpet onto the polished hard wood floor nearby.
"Carpets can be cleaned." said Robert pragmatically. "I
am too happy to worry about something so small and
insignificant."
Ramona laughed. "Bobby, that carpet probably cost
thirty thousand dollars!" she said.
"Compared to you it is worth only thirty cents." he
sighed, still lying on the object under discussion.
Still holding his semen inside her, Ramona reached down
and pulled him up. Then she snatched her clothes up in
her free hand.
"I ate a sandwich and I'm starving again already!" she
said. "Let's get something to eat."
They padded naked through the house to the kitchen,
which was now finished and looked completely different
than it had in the old days. Now it was a brightly lit
and modern place, with state-of-the-art appliances and
gleaming surfaces everywhere. It was one of the few
areas of the house that Robert had not taken back to
it's original configuration and condition. He pulled
cold pizza and sodas from the refrigerator and then
popped the pizza into the toaster oven that was on the
counter.
"Bobby, I need to talk to you about something." said
Ramona. She was thinking about Robby. "I don't want to
have any secrets from you."
"I love you, and I care not for secrets." he said,
"with one exception." Both knew what secret he would
protect to his very death.
Worriedly Ramona told him of her feelings for Robby,
and what she had contemplated doing with him, even if
only for an instant or two. She tried to describe
Robby's attraction to her as well.
"Is there something wrong with us?" she whined. "Is
this the curse of our family?"
Robert listened patiently while she unburdened herself,
sipping his Coke now and then. When she finished he sat
a little longer, as if thinking.
"Let me tell you what I think." he said. "I knew, long
ago, that brothers and sisters are not supposed to feel
about each other as we felt about each other... as we
now feel. Since then I have seen many places, and many
cultures, a few of which allowed this taboo love
between relatives. I saw nothing then that made me want
to stop loving you. What I think is that, if we love
each other, nothing we want to do is a bad thing. And
if Debbie and Robby love each other - really love each
other, as you and I do - then I don't think they will
want to do anything that they think can threaten that
love."
"But to want my son?" moaned Ramona. "Doesn't that make
you crazy?"
"I look at your son and see a strong young man who many
women will want. I look at your daughter and see a
beautiful young woman who many men would want to carry
their babies. Is this not a natural response to seeing
a member of the opposite sex who has the appearance of
a suitable mate? Is it so strange that you could be
drawn to his ability to father children, or that I
could be drawn to wish I could make Debbie with child?"
"I thought you were teasing her." said Ramona,
realizing that he had made a confession of his own.
"I WAS teasing her, but you should know that, at the
center of all teasing, there is a kernel of desire.
Sometimes it is a desire to hurt. Sometimes it is a
desire to teach. Sometimes it is a desire to be able to
be closer than circumstances allow."
Robert got up and pulled the pizza out of the toaster
oven. He put it on the table, along with two plates and
forks.
"This could be a very strange and interesting
marriage." said Ramona, looking thoughtfully at her
brother.
"I am going to concentrate on making this a glorious
marriage." he said. "Strange is all right once in a
while, and interesting is Ok even more often. But I
want to do nothing that will put a wedge between us."
"I don't want to hurt you." she said insistently.
"I can think of nothing you could do that would hurt me
except to stop loving me." he said seriously. "Perhaps
you will explore this feeling you have with your son...
perhaps not. In either case I cannot imagine not loving
you."
Ramona relaxed. The one thing she was afraid would
unseat her happiness was something she could now put in
the back of her mind. She had no idea what would
happen, but suddenly she looked forward to everything
she thought was gone forever. She could love the man
she wanted... could live with him and bear him
children.
"It's too bad that Robby and Debbie can't have what we
have." she mused.
"Perhaps that too can be arranged, in a way." suggested
Robert. "They can live with us as long as they wish.
What goes on in this house need not be common
knowledge."
"They may not want to." said their mother.
"That, too, is fine." said their uncle. "They may draw
apart, as we did, and find other love. You were happy
with Richard, yes?"
"Yes." she admitted. "I loved Richard very much."
"They too may find that kind of love. They may wish to
go to college. They may wish to travel. Those are
discussions that must be had, but there is plenty of
time."
Then there was discussion about the immediate future.
Ramona was instructing him that his seduction of her
must appear normal to people they knew. She couldn't
just agree to marry him after only one or two dates.
That would be too odd. They were making plans on how to
advance the courtship when the front door opened and
Debbie's tentative voice came down the hall.
"Mom? Uncle Bob?" she called.
"In here." yelled Ramona, checking to make sure she
looked normal. She saw there was a stain in the crotch
of Robby's gym shorts and scooted further under the
table.
That didn't work, though, because Debbie was too
excited and wanted to hug her mother. Then she wanted
to hug her uncle. She was flushed, part of it the
residual effect of having had multiple orgasms, but
primarily from running through the woods to get there.
Ramona had to stand up to get her hug and then didn't
think to sit back down as she grinned to see Debbie
flinging herself against her uncle and kissing him on
the cheek.
It was when Debbie turned around again that Ramona saw
that Robby's gym shorts were not the only shorts in the
house that were stained with a man's semen. Debbie had
put her shorts on immediately after having been filled
a second time with her brother's spunk, and it had
drained into and stained the shorts she was wearing in
the same kind of pattern as Ramona's were stained.
Ramona's hysteria at being happy burst into a laugh.
"What?" asked Debbie, looking around.
"We need to go change our pants." said her mother with
a straight face. "Both of us."
Debbie looked down at her own light blue shorts, with
the dark stain in the crotch, and then at shorts she
recognized as Robby's, but which were being worn by her
mother, and which were also stained like hers. She
blushed beet red.
"Oh Gosh!" Debbie moaned, covering her eyes with her
hands.
Robert stood, grinning. "Go on. I'll see you tomorrow,
when I ask you for another date."
Ramona pulled her moaning daughter back to the front
door and to the car. She laughed again as she thought
that it was a good thing she had naugahyde seat covers.
Chapter Fifteen
===============
Following their plan, Robert visited Ramona at the bank
again two days later, and asked her out to dinner
again, this time as his treat. They laughed when Robert
described how he had tried to make a reservation at
"Mom's Diner" which, he had been assured by the men
working on his house, was the best place in town to
eat. Frances Dilley, otherwise known as "Mom", and
owner of Mom's Diner, had laughed out loud. "You're not
from around here, are you?" he mimicked Frances saying.
The morning after their dinner date, Ramona held her
co-workers spellbound by her description of what had
happened.
"We got there and there were no cars in the parking
lot. I was afraid there had been a mistake and the
place was closed!" Ramona told them. "Them the door
opened and Mrs. Dilley came out and took us in. He
rented the whole diner for the night!" Ramona didn't
have to pretend to be flattered. Robert hadn't told her
he was going to do that. Robert had admitted that he
asked "Mom" how much she made on the average Friday
night and then offered her five times that amount to
serve just the two of them. "There were four men in
there with violins and guitars and I don't know what
all, and Mrs. Dilley served us herself. It was just
amazing!"
"How romantic" sighed Agnes Green.
"Did he kiss you?" asked Renee.
"Renee! I'm shocked you'd even ask that." said Ramona,
trying not to giggle. "I will tell you this, though. I
like him. We have fun together. He tells the most
amazing stories."
Three days later the mood at the bank was almost the
opposite. Renee brought in a newspaper that had a
picture of Robert with another woman. The headline was
"Local millionaire samples night life" and there was a
story about how Robert had come back from what the
paper called his world travels, and was renovating his
ancestral home in Nettleton, which was, in fact, named
for his family. The woman with him was identified as
Lucinda Johnson, daughter of Magnus Johnson, who owned
and operated the Johnson Furniture Emporium. The couple
were attending a benefit fund raiser for a local
orphanage, but she wore a slinky dress, and was covered
with jewels and looked very much the part of a rich
man's escort.
"That dirty dog is running around behind your back
Ramona." snarled Renee, throwing the paper down on
Ramona's desk.
Ramona was well aware that Robert was going to "take
out" other women as part of his role playing, but
seeing the smiling buxom woman on his arm still caused
her gut to clench. It showed and Renee became a
commiserator instantly.
"Don't you worry about it baby." she said to Ramona.
"There are other fish in the sea. If he comes in here
again I'll throw him out myself!"
Ramona smiled. "Renee, he's a grown man and he can date
whoever he wants. I like him, but I don't own him. And
don't you dare throw him out either. I may not be
exotic and beautiful like her," she slapped the paper,
"but I'm the better pick and I think he's smart enough
to see that."
Renee agreed vociferously. "You're right. You're better
than that blond bimbo any day, and if he's not smart
enough to see that then you don't need him!"
That night Ramona reported the conversation to Robert,
who identified the woman in the picture as the daughter
of a man who had approached him to do business with.
Robert, having problems finding "women to forward our
plan" had agreed to escort the man's daughter to the
benefit. Robert laughed about how the man tried to use
his own daughter to seal a deal that Robert had no
intention of entering into.
When Robert came into the bank the next day, he waved
nonchalantly to Ramona, and went to a teller cage to do
some business of some sort. Then he went and stuck his
head into Frank's office, glad-handing like a
politician. It was then that he went to Renee's desk
and tried unsuccessfully to make small talk with her.
Renee was frosty, and kept her eyes on her work most of
the time.
Finally Robert sauntered over to Ramona's desk.
"And how is my favorite financial Wizard doing today?"
he asked, loudly enough for several people, including
Renee, to hear. Renee rolled her eyes in an exaggerated
manner at Ramona.
"Why I'm fine, Robert... may I call you Robert?" she
said sweetly.
"I would be devastated if you did not." he said
smiling. "And when will you grace me with your company
again, if I may be so bold?" he asked formally.
The newspaper Renee had given her was lying on her
desk, where she had left it intentionally. "Why Robert,
it appears that you have plenty of company. When would
you ever be able to fit me in?" She let her fingers
drift over the paper.
Robert laughed. "Ramona, let there be no mistake. I
would rather spend one evening with you than ten with
women like that." he said. "You are interesting, and
beautiful and you laugh at my horrible jokes. I have
tomorrow night open... and the night after that... and
the next night too. Please, have pity on me." he
pleaded.
"You're a charmer, I'll give you that." sighed Ramona.
She had the urge to giggle so much that she had to bite
the inside of her cheek to stop it. "All right. I
haven't been roller skating in years. Do you roller
skate Robert?"
Robert looked stricken. "I will learn!" he said.
"Surely such a thing cannot be so difficult. I
understand that hundreds of people do it."
The date was made and Robert left, shaking hands with
everyone he could reach.
Renee was at her desk before the outside door closed.
"Are you really going to take him skating?" she asked.
"Sure" said Ramona. "Why not? He's just a man. Why
don't you and Ted come along too?"
"I might just do that." said Renee. "I'll suggest that
if he isn't a little nicer to me I might feel inclined
to get to know Mr. Robert Nettleton a little better. It
doesn't hurt a bit that he's cute too." She giggled as
Ramona chided her for being mercenary.
In fact, by the time Robert escorted Ramona into the
"Skate Inn", there was a sudden resurgence of interest
in roller skating by a surprising number of adults,
most of whom worked at the bank, or were married to
someone who worked at the bank.
It was a riot. Robert had never had skates on in his
life, while Ramona had gone skating with Richard quite
often, and was really quite good. She unfailingly
picked Robert up off the floor each time he crashed
down, and steadied him as he rolled along uncertainly.
Her co-workers helped pull him up too. By the end of
the evening he was able to stay up most of the time as
she pulled him, hand in hand, around in circles.
Everybody went out for drinks at Duffy's Tavern when it
was all done. Robert didn't act at all stuffy. He also
made sure he told some very horrible jokes.
From there it was just a matter of making sure that
people knew Robert took Ramona out more than he took
any other woman out. Then their plan moved to the phase
where he took only Ramona out.
No one was surprised, when, three months later, Robert
Nettleton proposed marriage to Ramona Franklin.
Ramona's wanted Renee to be her maid of honor, with
Debbie as the only other bridesmaid. That decision was
relatively easy. In thinking about Robby, however,
Ramona's feelings were much more conflicted. That was
the result of reflection on the feelings she had
recently discovered for her son, and her discussion
about that with Robert. Her un-motherly attraction to
him, in a way, made her feel like she was closer to him
than any man other than Robert himself. In that sense,
she felt like that, when she married Robert, she would
distance herself from something very special by
"leaving" Robby. In a philosophical moment she decided
that it was appropriate, in a very private way, for
Robby to give her away.
With that in mind, she talked with her children about
those roles and said she wanted to spend an evening
with each of them, alone, to just talk about things and
settle in everyone's mind what their expectations were
for life in the near and not-so-near future. What they
were doing was a big decision, and their lives would
change considerably because of it. Ramona didn't want
to lose anything she had with her family as they gained
other things.
Her night with Debbie was scheduled first. Robby spent
the night with Mike, who wanted an update on what was
happening with the Nettleton mansion and the crazy
hermit they had all seen together, and that left the
house to his mother and sister.
Ramona and Debbie talked about a lot of things, but two
of them were probably more important than the others.
"I need to know how you feel about the money." Ramona
said, as she ate spoonfuls of ice cream out of her
quart of Rocky Road, while Debbie did her best to
destroy a quart of Butter Brickle.
"Well, we've never really had a lot of money." said
Debbie. "I don't know what it will be like."
"Do you think you'll just be able to buy whatever you
want?" asked her mother.
"That would be nice." said Debbie. "But I've seen some
of the rich kids at school, and they seem... empty
somehow. At least sometimes. It's hard to explain."
"It's important to me that you stay who you are." said
Ramona. "I don't want money to become too important to
you."
"I think if we talk about that, it will be OK." said
Debbie. "Even though I argue with you a lot, I think
you're pretty smart for an adult." said Debbie smiling.
"You usually give me pretty good advice."
"OK, we'll agree to talk things out then." said Ramona.
"Now, what about Robby?" she asked. "I have some advice
for you about that."
Debbie shifted uncomfortably in the overstuffed
armchair she was currently occupying. "I love him
mother." she said.
"I know that, and I understand that. But what you two
are doing has real consequences." said Ramona
patiently. "Things have been so crazy that we haven't
taken care of protection yet. And I suspect you two
haven't decided to stop for a while until that gets
done."
Debbie had the grace to blush, but didn't confirm her
mother's suspicions.
Ramona bored on. "What, for instance, are you going to
do if he makes you pregnant?"
Debbie was silent for what seemed like a long time. "I
have mixed feelings about that." she finally said.
"Part of me is horrified at the thought of being
pregnant at all. I mean that would change so many
things. But part of me thinks that having Robby's baby
in me would be the neatest thing in the whole world. I
love him so much it hurts sometimes."
"That's one of the things the money changes." said
Ramona. "What I mean is that there won't be any
financial burden on you. In theory you can have all the
babies you want to. We can hire a live-in nanny to help
you take care of them. That part is easy. But having
children changes your life radically because then they
are the most important thing and you have to sacrifice
some of the other things you might want to do."
"Like what?" asked Debbie. Talking with her mother
about this was something she hadn't thought she could
do, but she found, to her surprise that it was not only
easy, but immensely relieving too.
"Like meeting another man you like, and already having
children that he may not feel drawn to because they
aren't his." said Ramona. "Like not being able to go to
college because you have a family to take care of."
Ramona thought some more. "Like being in a relationship
with a man who you can't kiss in public, or acknowledge
as the father of your children. Like being thought of
as a slut because you have children out of wedlock.
You'd be living a secret life, and that's not easy."
she finished.
"Good points" admitted Debbie. "But I'll argue with you
about some of them." She took another bite of ice
cream. "For one thing, I love Robby so much that I'd
marry him if I could... like you and Uncle Bob. So I'm
not sure that I'll be interested in other men." She
took another bite. "And, if I don't have to work, and
have help... because of the money... then I think I
could manage going to college, whether I have children
or not." She frowned. "I agree that it would be very
hard to love Robby in secret. I do that now, and it's
not too hard right now, but you're probably right about
that not being the most satisfying kind of life. But I
don't care what people think about whether I'm a slut
or not. I think there will be enough advantages to our
lives that they will outweigh that."
Debbie cocked her head. "Hey, I have a question for
you."
"Go ahead." said Ramona, still processing what she had
heard.
"What about your money? I mean I know how you feel
about it, but couldn't it be used to do a lot of good
things?"
"What kind of good things?" asked Ramona carefully.
"Well, I don't know... things like helping people? I
mean there are all kinds of problems in the world with
education and racism and hunger and stuff like that. I
think it would be kind of cool if we could help with
some of that kind of thing."
Ramona felt a measure of shock. It was a combination of
not having thought of that herself, which caused her
pangs of guilt, but it was also surprise that her
daughter, on the verge of becoming very wealthy, would
be so unselfish.
"I think that's a very noble idea." she said. "I think
that's something we should have a lot more talks
about."
"Me too." said Debbie.
Then they talked about dresses and wedding arrangements
and other things that mothers and daughters talk about
when life is good.
Ramona's night with her son was almost completely
different. She intended to come to grips with their
feelings for each other, and put them to bed... so to
speak.
Those feelings were put to bed. But not in the way
Ramona had intended.
She started by explaining why she wanted him to give
her away. She had no idea whether he would grasp the
philosophical reasoning for that, and was actually
surprised when he nodded.
"I get it." he said. "I feel kind of the same way.
Knowing that you're getting married, and I don't think
it would matter who you were getting married to either,
I feel kind of like I'm losing you somehow."
"You'll always be my little boy." she said, chewing.
Tonight there was no ice cream. Instead, she had baked
hot rolls, because she knew he loved them, and would
eat a whole pan of them if allowed to. They sat,
tearing little pieces of the rolls off and eating them.
The rolls were so good that the butter and strawberry
jam she'd put out weren't touched by either one of
them.
"I know that." he smiled. "But this new feeling... it's
something I haven't even figured out yet. I mean I know
I'm not supposed to feel stuff like that for my own
mother... but I do. And now you're getting married and
I'm happy for you. I think you should do it. But I
think I'm a little jealous too. Doesn't that sound
stupid?"
Ramona shook her head. "No, it's not stupid. Not to
me." She sat, her feet tucked under her and stared at
her son. "It makes me tingle when you say you're
jealous."
Robby looked back. "You know how sometimes you want
something really bad, and it's all you can think about?
You save your money and you dream about going to buy
it, and what it will be like when you have it and all
that."
Ramona nodded.
Robby nodded with her. "It's like that with you. I'll
be in bed, and I think about... things. Or in the
shower. It happens there a lot too. It happened with
Debbie that way sort of, except that we did things for
a long time and it just went farther and farther."
Ramona felt tingles in her belly. "But sometimes,
darling, when you get what you wanted so much, it turns
out not to be what you thought it would be after all.
Sometimes you get disappointed, or just lose interest."
Robby blinked. "Yeah, that's true, if you're talking
about a pair of shoes or something. But that's not what
we're talking about here." he said. "I mean I know that
fantasy isn't like reality, but I can't keep the
fantasies out of my head. And I'll never know the
reality, so I doubt if I'll ever be able to really let
go... like you're talking about."
Ramona's own feelings were remarkably similar. She had
fleeting fantasies. Her memory of his smooth chest
pressed against her bare breasts fueled those
fantasies.
"What if you did experience the reality?" she asked
suddenly. "Do you think then that the fantasies would
go away and leave you alone?"
"Mom, don't tease me." he said.
"I'm not teasing Robby. I don't want this to make a
wedge between us. I want you to feel free and at home,
and welcome in our new family. I want to be able to
look at you and hug you and not be afraid that I'm
causing you pain."
Something in Robby tore loose. He didn't snap, exactly,
but he felt a release inside him that allowed him to do
something that he never would have contemplated doing
before this very moment. He stood up and pushed his
shorts down, exposing the erection he'd gotten just
talking about fantasies.
"You don't cause me pain." he said. "You cause this."
Ramona felt her pussy squirt. "I don't want to come
between you and Debbie." she said. "And I don't want
you to come between Robert and me."
Robby stood there. "I love you both. I'll always love
you both, even if we never do anything. Even if Debbie
gets married some day, I'll always love you both."
Ramona stood, putting her hot roll on the table beside
the chair. "You can't give me away if you've never...
had me." she said. she was breathing deeply now. Her
clothing felt suddenly very confining.
Robby responded, not like a son, used to being
subservient to his mother's control, but as a man,
establishing his control over a woman. It wasn't a
harsh control, or one meant to dominate or dehumanize
her. But he didn't wait for instructions, or
permission, or assent. He kicked off his shorts and
pulled his shirt over his head. Then, naked, he went to
his mother and began undressing her as she stood, her
eyes closed, trying to decide whether to help him, or
try and stop him. She kept her eyes closed as he made
her naked. It wasn't until she felt his lips on one of
her stiff, standing nipples that her eyes popped open
and she felt weak.
He took here there, in the living room, on the couch.
He placed her on the couch, lying down, one foot on the
floor and the other held up by her ankle, opening her
obscenely to his hot-eyed gaze. His prick dripped with
his excitement.
First, though, he tasted her, driving his tongue deep
between her swollen pussy lips, and sucking her taste,
along with the nubbin that was her clit. Her feelings
shocked her with their intensity, and she found her
fingers squeezing her nipples as he tended to her
pussy. Suddenly she was impatient and pulled at his
hair.
No words were needed as he raised his wet face to look
into his mother's eyes. He moved upward and let his
iron hard prick bob, just above her gaping sex, pausing
to savor the sight of his naked and spread mother,
waiting for him to penetrate her.
Her consent came in the form of her soft hand gripping
him... aiming him... pulling him to her.
"I saw you and Debbie in bed." she said softly. "You
were being very tender with her. Be tender with me
too." she moaned.
Robby slid his adolescent penis into his mother's adult
pussy in one long, slow push until her hairs and his
met and mingled. Both of them groaned in a mixture of
satisfaction and a desire to feel that again, for the
first time.
For Ramona, what she noticed most was how Robby filled
her, but in a wholly different way than Robert did. It
had been long enough that she had a hard time
remembering how Richard felt in her, but Robby's
adolescent prick just felt different in some way. His
arms and back felt different too, as she stroked him,
urging him to continue with little pulls and grips.
For Robby, it was less controlled mentally. The hot
clasp of the pussy squeezing his cock was something
that made his mother's face appear in his mind, whether
his eyes were closed or not. As he had not thought of
anyone but Debbie, when he was making love with her, he
couldn't think of anyone but his mother while his prick
was buried in her. He also felt the now familiar urge
to cum, but there was also some kind of brake built in
that demanded that he hear his mother have an orgasm
before he spilled his seed. Part of it might have been
because he was moving slowly in her, almost languidly,
pausing at full entry to press hard against her pussy
lips and clit.
Each time he did that... as he pressed hard into her...
Ramona moaned "Ohhh baby," in a voice that caused his
balls to tighten a little more each time he heard it.
It was a pure, sweet sound in his ears that said in a
completely affirmative way that she welcomed him inside
her.
They had been silent for so long... not counting her
mantra of joy... that Ramona didn't want to spoil the
mood by talking. Instead she pulled at his head and
kissed him long and deep, and then pushed his head
toward her aching nipples. He sucked hard, in contrast
to his gentle fucking motions, and her orgasm surprised
her, both with its rapid onset and the depth of the
feeling as it built rapidly, increasing the pressure
inside her, but not releasing it. His deeply probing
rod wasn't moving quite fast enough to bring her off
completely, but she waited, letting the pressure build
until she almost couldn't stand it any more and writhed
under him. She finally had to say something more.
"Harder now... please?" she begged.
Robby's hips did something instinctive and, instead of
going in and out faster, he went in, leaving only an
inch or two outside of his writhing lover and then
rabbit stroked her five or six times rapidly, bouncing
off her clit and jiggling her body with the force of
his penetrations.
Ramona's wail would have sounded like pain and
suffering to an observer, but her tone penetrated
Robby's brain and, as her pussy rippled around him, he
gave up and let his seed spill violently and copiously
into his mother's belly. His own groan sounded like
something one would hear through the walls of a
dungeon, accompanied by sounds of his laughing
torturer.
They clasped each other tightly, having shared
something beautiful that they didn't want to end.
Ramona was almost overcome by feelings of remorse that
she had allowed this to happen... not because of who
they were... but because she knew she could never live
without this happening to her again sometime. Even
though she knew Robert would smile and nod if she asked
permission, she hadn't planned on complicating her life
this way. Another part of her brain screamed a litany
of thank yous for the joy she felt from an almost
perfect union with a man she loved dearly.
Robby's thought process was not as complicated, but
arrived at the same conclusion.
"I'm not sure..." he panted "that I'm willing to...
give you away." He sagged down, his weight a welcome
warmth on his mother's body.
Part of Ramona accepted what had happened and knew
that, somehow, she'd deal with it.
"You have to." she panted back. "It's part of the
ceremony." She hugged him and then giggled. "I had no
idea, my darling. Debbie is a very lucky girl." she
sighed.
"Thank you." he said.
"Oh darling, you're so very welcome." she said,
stroking his back.
There was a moment of awkwardness in Robby's mind as he
contemplated climbing up off his mother's naked body.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
Ramona let her fingers play with his hair. "Well, if
you're not willing to give me away yet, then I suppose
we'll just have to do this until you get your fill and
change your mind." She giggled again.
They grabbed fistfuls of hot rolls and moved to
Ramona's bed. It took them until two in the morning
before Robby finally gave up. Ramona had been seated on
him, riding him to his fifth spurting orgasm, when he
pulled her down for the last time.
"OK" he gasped. "I think I can stand the idea now."
"Good" said his mother, feeling his softening prick
beginning to slip out of her. "I wanted you to feel
that way before I told you that Robert will understand
if, some day, we feel the need to do this again."
Robby looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?" he
asked.
"I told him how I felt about you. He more or less gave
me permission to explore those feelings." she said
softly.
"Wow." said Robby, feeling much better suddenly about
what they'd done for the last eight hours.
"How would you feel if Debbie felt the need to explore
feelings she had towards him?" asked Ramona.
Had she asked him that in the beginning, his response
might have been different. But now, thoroughly sated
for once in his teenaged, hormone-driven life, the
thought didn't threaten him.
"I don't think she would want to." he said. "She really
hated him at first. But, even if she did I don't see
how I could justify getting mad about it."
"That's a very mature and enlightened attitude." said
his mother, kissing him on the tip of his nose. "I
doubt, though, that Debbie's attitude would be that
enlightened if she found us like this. We should spend
the rest of the morning in our own beds, don't you
think?"
"I could sleep 'til noon." said Robby.
============================================
Robby didn't get the chance to sleep 'til noon, though.
Debbie, having spent the night at a sleepover with
three of her friends, all of whom talked about boys and
the things boys liked to do, came home horny. She stuck
her head in her mother's bedroom and heard snoring,
whereupon she went to her brother's room to get her
itch scratched.
Robby, thankful that he was young and healthy, managed
to scratch that itch quite well before he sent her on
her way and told her not to wake him up for a week.
============================================
Strangely, after their coupling, Ramona found it much
easier to control her emotions regarding Robby than it
had been before. She had so much to do to get ready for
the wedding that she didn't examine this phenomenon in
any particular detail. If she had, she would have come
to the conclusion that, before she let Robby shoot his
virile sperm in her unprotected pussy, she had been
afraid that her feelings for him were founded on lust.
During the act, however, it became clear to her that
she wanted to share something precious with him... and
receive that dangerous sperm... because she loved her
son on a level that was both deep and honest.
Knowing that they loved each other, and that if she
felt the need to share that with him again she could,
the urgency to "deal" with the situation was gone. In
one sense it HAD been dealt with, though Debbie's
status in their new family hadn't yet been fully
explored. Ramona thought about that... about the
possibility that the teasing that Debbie and Bobby
engaged in might, some day, lead to something more. She
found it interesting that she wasn't nearly as worried
about that outcome as she was if Debbie found out about
her mother and brother and didn't understand what that
was really about.
Ramona decided to let nature take its own course with
Debbie and her uncle. If the other issue raised its
head, she'd just deal with that when it happened.
=========================================
At a family conference, Ramona and her children came to
the unanimous decision that after the wedding, they
would move into the Nettleton mansion. All three were
surprised at how easily that decision was made. All
three were further surprised when Ramona asked her
children what other issues needed to be addressed and
no one could come up with anything. All was moving
smoothly in the Franklin household.
Debbie took it upon herself to act preemptively
concerning the accommodations. The morning after that
meeting, after her mother had gone to work, Debbie went
to her brother's room. She was amazed now at how
routine it seemed to crawl into bed with him, wake him
with kisses, fondle him to full erection... if he
wasn't already that way... and then slide her pussy
down gratefully over his throbbing member. He was
always groggy in the mornings, and she loved to climb
up on top of him and ride him. It gave her better
control over when and where her tingling clitty got
rubbed, and she was able to get him deep enough that
the tip of his beautiful prick prodded that special
little place inside her that both hurt and felt
wonderful at the same time. She could also take her
time, because, if he wasn't on top of her, he couldn't
go as fast as he liked to, which inevitably brought
that rush of welcome wet heat spurting out of his penis
sooner than she wanted it to. True, he was able, on
many occasions, to either keep going, or to be able to
go again quite soon, but she loved to deny herself that
wonderful hot feeling, letting the pressure inside her
build until she almost couldn't stand it. Then she'd
squeeze his healthy young penis in just that special
way that she'd learned would make it spurt almost on
command, so that as she had her orgasm, he had his too.
This morning had been particularly sensational as she
felt her brother's hot sperm painting her pussy. She
kissed him as he mumbled his love for her, already
letting his eyes close to go back to sleep. She wanted
her pussy to be full of his spunk when she went next
door to look at the house where all this had started.
She dressed in jeans shorts and a halter top, not to
tease anybody, but because she liked those clothes and
they were comfortable. She had made the halter top in
home economics, because she had to come up with a
sewing project. She'd made it out of one of Robby's old
dress shirts that didn't quite fit his muscular chest
any more. She'd cut off the collar and sleeves and
folded the shoulder material to make straps. Then, to
impress her teacher, she'd tailored the cloth to fit
her breasts. It almost looked like a fancy bra, except
for the tails in front, which she used to tie in a knot
in the front, between her breasts. It was a pale blue
color that, when she first made it, concealed her pink
areolas, though it allowed her nipples to define
themselves, especially if they were erect under it. Her
jeans shorts were cut-offs and thin and white where
they cupped her buttocks.
It didn't occur to her on a conscious level that she
looked like the very picture of a well-fucked, beaming,
healthy young woman, with gorgeous cleavage and a firm
ass. She didn't think about what the men working at the
manor might think about as she walked through them...
how her flat stomach fairly screamed to those men that
it needed life inside it, to make the flatness go away
as a baby swelled beneath it. She never gave a thought
to how, as she had to step over obstructions on the
lawn, where materials were strewn about, that her
breasts would bob invitingly as all eyes watched her
walk across the yard to the front door of the mansion.
Had she heard the groans of the men, or seen them shift
their stiffening cocks in their pants as she walked by,
she might have considered dressing less provocatively.
But Debbie's mind was awhirl with the anticipation of
seeing how the inside of the house had changed... of
walking its halls again, this time as the mistress of
the manor. "Well, ONE of the mistresses, anyway" she
thought as she stepped on top of a pile of long lumber
and jumped down on the other side, making her tender
young breasts bounce once and come to a quivering
equilibrium inside the thin cloth of her halter top.
Two men were working together nearby and Debbie heard
one of them mumble to the other... something like "Oh
man, and it's only nine thirty. I gotta go home for
lunch and see Christy." The other man laughed and
replied "SEE Christy? I never heard it called SEEING
before." He laughed again.
Debbie glanced at them, wondering what they found so
funny about lunch. Then she ran up the stairs to the
front door, oblivious of the groans behind her.
She peered around, shocked and delighted to see that
everything looked so bright and colorful and... alive.
She reached out to touch the paneling, which glowed
with a soft light. It was bright and she could see the
grain and tones in it now. Before it had been gray and
dull. The wall paper and new drapes were so colorful
she thought she was in a different place. She wandered
into the kitchen and gasped at the harvest gold counter
tops and the gleaming matching stove and refrigerator.
A center island held all kinds of copper pots hanging
from a stainless steel rack that made a roof over it.
She almost ran to see what her bedroom looked like.
That the "little girl's" room would be hers, she had
already decided. She hoped that it would still look
like a girl's room. She passed by the master bedroom
and the "boy's" bedroom to find the door to her room
closed. She pushed it open and gasped.
The four poster bed had been completely recovered with
new fabric. It didn't look strange to her, despite the
fact that the fabrics were archaic in design. The room
she had spent so much time in... had experienced so
many new and exciting moments in... looked alive to her
now. Her eyes were drawn to the rest of the room in
darting glances as she tried unsuccessfully to take it
all in.
Her eyes lit on the cedar chest where she had packed
away her cherished special dresses each time after she
had worn them during dress up play. The chest had
obviously been refinished and gleamed with a coating of
oil.
She had her first disappointing feeling as she saw the
now beautiful piece of furniture. She knew somehow,
sadly, that the dresses would be gone. Never again
would she be able to pull on the sweet smelling old
clothes and parade in front of her brother, pretending
to be a princess, or the mistress of the manor. She
felt a single tear roll down her cheek.
A sound behind her made her turn quickly, wiping the
tear away. It was her uncle, standing in the open
doorway, leaning negligently against the jamb.
"So what do you think?" he asked. "Is it suitable for a
beautiful teenage girl?"
Debbie felt conflicting emotions. She knew it was
silly, but she really missed those dresses.
"Yes, it's beautiful." she said.
"Why then do you cry?" he asked.
Debbie wiped at her cheek again, embarrassed. "It's
nothing. There were dresses that I kept in that chest.
I used to wear them sometimes." she said.
"My mother's dresses." he said nodding. "Yes they were
beautiful. You liked them very much?"
"Oh yes!" said Debbie, unable to control her burst of
emotion. "I felt pretty when I wore them."
"A simple dress could not make you more beautiful than
you are now." he said, bowing. "But I am glad that I
had them cleaned and replaced. I suspected that someone
had been wearing them."
"What?" said Debbie, startled.
"Look inside." he said gently, waving a hand at the
chest.
Debbie went to the chest and lifted the lid. The odor
of cedar spilled into her nostrils and she saw all her
dresses... her grandmother's dresses, she corrected
herself. They had been neatly folded back into the
chest after it was refinished.
Debbie turned, more tears in her eyes now, and stared
at the man she'd hated, then wanted to hate, and now
couldn't hate any more.
"Still you cry?" he teased. "I am such a failure." He
tried to look dejected.
Debbie ran to him and hugged him tightly.
"Oh thank you Uncle Bob. You have no idea what this
means to me." she cried.
"It was but a little thing." he said stroking her hair.
"I have upset your life, and would do what I can to let
you retain as much of it as you can."
Debbie turned, one arm still around her uncle and
surveyed the room. "It really is beautiful." she said.
Robert looked down into the expanse of teenaged
cleavage she had exposed by turning. He could see the
insides of her breasts. They looked white and soft.
"It is indeed beautiful." he said, smiling.
Debbie's eyes settled on the dressing table. It had
been dust covered and streaked when she last saw it.
Now it, too, gleamed with a coat of oil over its
refinished surfaces. The drawer pulls were shining
brass now, instead of dark green lumps of metal. The
mirror she had looked at herself in as she played dress
up was clean and shining, surrounded by an ornate
gilded frame which before had looked like a dull yellow
mass of indistinct carving. A doll sat, leaning against
the bottom corner of the mirror. She had held that
doll, and examined it, though she had felt too old to
play with dolls, especially when she and Robby began
playing dress up. The doll had a porcelain face that
was so realistic that it was hard to believe. Its
clothing had been faded and dirty, and one leg had been
torn at the knee. Now it looked brand new, having been
repaired by a master restorer of antique dolls.
Robert saw where she was looking. "That was your
mother's" he said. "When we left she cried many times,
wanting that doll. If I could have come back to get it
for her I would have. But we were not allowed to come
to this place after... afterward. Maybe you should take
it to her?"
Debbie looked up at her uncle and saw the softness in
his eyes as he looked at the doll. It made her stomach
feel fluttery to see that look of love.
"Can I give it to her as a wedding present?" she asked.
"I can't think of anything to get her."
"I think that would be most perfect." he agreed,
smiling. "Now, to what do I owe the honor of your visit
this fine day?"
Debbie was suddenly nervous. She had come here like she
still owned this place. The changes in it had shocked
her as she realized that it was different... so
different that it didn't seem like the same house to
her. And yet, it was so familiar that she couldn't help
but feel at home in it. It was like somebody she loved
had been in the hospital, about to die, but had
recovered and now looked completely healthy.
"We decided last night to live here after the wedding."
she said. "I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you or
not. Mom may want to tell you herself. But I just had
to come and see... to see if it was the same."
"Alas, it is not the same." admitted her uncle, his arm
still around her.
"No, but I think that's all right." she said softly.
"It looks so much better. It's so pretty and bright."
She slumped a little. "I don't know if the ghosts will
even come back now."
Her uncle smiled and she saw it out of the corner of
her eye. She stuck out her jaw. "We used to talk to
them, you know." she said stubbornly. "They... watched
us. They liked having us here." she insisted.
"I do not doubt that my ancestors loved having you in
this place." he said seriously. "So many unhappy things
happened here. I'm sure they were very satisfied to
have happy young people here again." His eyes dipped to
her cleavage again. "I know I'll be happy to have happy
young people here."
Debbie saw his eyes and blushed. "You're a horrible
tease, you know that? What would my mother say if she
saw where you're looking?"
"She would say that I have wonderful taste in ogling
breasts." he said easily. "Yours are perhaps as
beautiful as hers."
Debbie blushed harder. Then she kissed him on the
cheek. "You make me feel good." she said finally.
"Then my day has not been wasted." he said, kissing her
forehead. He looked at her again, this time into her
eyes. "I'm really very happy that you have decided to
do this thing... to let your mother and I be happy...
to live with us. And it is not only because of your
beautiful breasts either." he said, winking at the end.
Debbie felt giddy at his obviously heartfelt expression
of thanks. She stepped away from him though, feeling
that fluttering in her stomach again. He was really
very handsome in a strange and different way and she
felt unaccountably nervous being so close to him.
"What can I do to help?" Debbie asked brightly.
Robert smiled. "Well, I happen to be talking to the
interior decorator about the bedroom your mother and I
will use. Perhaps you could lend your expertise on
things she likes? I love her more than life itself, but
I've been gone a long time, and don't know her every
day likes yet."
Debbie squealed with excitement and followed him to the
master bedroom. It too looked different, with the
furniture refinished and the wainscot redone. The walls
above that were bare, though, and the huge four poster
bed in that room was bare as well, without even a
mattress on it. A woman was standing in the middle of
the room making notes on a clipboard.
There ensued a spirited discussion, primarily between
Debbie and the woman, about how the room should be
tricked out. Debbie, in her own way, described what the
perfect room would look like, thinking of her mother
and the colors she liked and things like that.
When they were done the woman turned to Robert. "Well,
other than being a cradle robber, I have to say you
have chosen well for a wife. She has exquisite taste
Mr. Nettleton."
Debbie gaped, then blushed, and then started to correct
the woman, but Robert stepped up to her and put his arm
around her possessively.
"I know an exquisite woman when I meet one." he said
smiling broadly. "Her beauty will complete this house,
along with that of her daughter and son. I have,
indeed, been lucky."
The woman left and Debbie turned to her uncle. "Why did
you let her think I was going to be your wife?" she
asked curiously.
"Think about it." said Robert. "She will not go out and
tell everyone what a sexy young wife I have. People
will gossip about it, and when I take your mother
somewhere people will already be thinking how beautiful
and young she is. It is a harmless little prank, yes?"
"I guess so." said Debbie uncertainly. She didn't think
of her mother as young. Beautiful, yes, but not young.
Children never do.
"How did it make you feel that the woman believed you
and I would be married? That we would do the things
married couples do?" he asked.
Debbie blushed again. "I... I... we don't do those
things!" she finally got out.
"This is a true thing you have said." he nodded. "But
you DO do them with Robby. And when people do these
things, babies are created. When that happens you will
be a mother in this house, and almost a wife. Have you
not thought of this?" he asked, knowing that youth
rarely plan further than next weekend.
"Well, no" she admitted. He remained silent while she
couldn't help but think about... being pregnant... in
this house. "Mom and I talked about it a little bit."
she said, as if proud of herself. "And if that happens
then I'll try to be a good mother."
"Then my recommendation to you is to begin thinking of
yourself as a mother now." Robert said firmly. "If this
thing happens, then it cannot be undone."
"But..." Debbie started and then stopped. She couldn't
even think about having an abortion. The thought alone
made her ill.
"In this house there are no 'buts'" said Robert. "If
you become pregnant, the child will be of the Nettleton
line. I would have to resist in the most vociferous
manner should you try to become not pregnant. This is a
thing you must understand about me. Your mother and I
are the only Nettletons left, besides you and your
brother. Many children are needed to carry on this
line, and none can be wasted. This would be true
whether it was Robby's child or that of another."
Debbie stared at him thoughtfully. "I could never have
an abortion." she said firmly. "I don't know why I even
thought of that. But it sounds as if you want to make
me into a baby machine."
"This is not what I meant at all." he said. "If you
never have a child at all your mother and I will love
you as always. Having children is your concern. But if
you decide to do that, I want you to understand that it
is a serious concern, and that others will have a stake
in the child's life too."
Debbie suddenly thought about the sperm that was still
pooled in her womb at this very moment. For the first
time since she had begun pursuing an... adult...
relationship, she thought seriously about the
consequences of what was lying in her belly.
"I will bear, and love and cherish my children." she
said in a surprisingly adult tone of voice. "I doubt
that I'd make a very good mother right now, but I'll
learn whatever it takes."
"You'll make a better mother now than you might have an
hour ago, I'll wager." said her uncle. "Your body is
ready to provide new life," he said, looking at her
breasts again and making her squirm. "However... you
might want to give some thought to preventing babies
until you feel you are ready."
"Yes." said Debbie, her spirits suddenly muted. "I'll
think about that."
"Excellent!" said Robert boisterously. "Now, tell me,
do you ever eat ice cream? I have a freezer full of
this delightful treat, and I'll never be able to eat it
all by myself."
Debbie spent another five hours with her uncle, talking
and helping him make decisions, while the workmen
always seemed to need to be around them, asking
questions, or carrying things past the lovely young
woman. Robert noted their interest and smiled. There
would be many happy women this night when these men got
home and needed to sate their lust.
Chapter Sixteen
===============
That night, when Ramona got home, she was preoccupied
with wedding plans and sat at the kitchen table with
stacks of lists and invitations and other things
associated with the wedding. When Debbie offered to
help her she waved her hand, saying that it was fun,
even though she didn't look like she was having that
much fun.
Debbie took her brother and pulled him to her bedroom.
"I love you." she told him, standing in front of him
almost close enough that her breasts touched him.
"I know that." he said in typical male ignorance of
what a woman wanted when she said that.
"Do you love me?" she asked.
"Of course I do. You know that." he said, digging
himself even deeper into a hole he had no idea was
forming around him.
"Do you love me enough to not make love to me for a
while?" she asked.
"What?" he said, unsure what that meant.
"Do you love me enough to not make love to me for a
while?" she repeated. It didn't help that her fingers
were toying with his shirt collar.
"Um..." Robby knew suddenly that there was a right
answer, but, for the life of him he didn't know what it
was. He had a suspicion that he should respond in the
affirmative, but was afraid to say "Sure, no problem"
because that sounded like he didn't cherish what they
shared. And he DID cherish what they shared - a lot.
"How long is a while?" he asked.
"I just need to do some thinking. We haven't been using
anything to stop me from getting pregnant. I've been
thinking about that. That might be a problem, you
know?"
When it comes to problems, the difference between men
and women is that women want to talk about the problem,
while the men want to just solve it and move on.
"So have mom get you some birth control pills." he
suggested helpfully.
"You don't want me to have your baby." Debbie said. Her
voice rose at the end of the sentence, as if it were a
question. But it didn't sound like a question somehow
to Robby.
Robby, like his sister, hadn't really thought at any
length about what could happen as a result of what they
did. There had been a time or two that he had
fantasized his sister with a swollen belly, but it was
hard to put her face on that body. It just wasn't her.
"I don't know." he finally said. "I haven't thought
much about that."
"That's why we need to take some time and think
about... things." said Debbie. "I don't want to get all
pregnant and then find out you don't want to be a
father." Her voice was rising steadily. "I don't want
to ruin my life, and give up everything just so YOU can
do what boys ALWAYS want to DO to girls!" Somehow
Debbie had gotten mad. The fact that she had six or
seven hours of think time that Robby wasn't aware of
didn't cross her mind. SHE had thought about the
consequences, and somehow expected HIM to have thought
about them too. She was beginning to think more as an
adult. He just hadn't caught up with her.
Robby didn't know what was going on, but he knew that
tone of voice. In the past he had just run and hidden,
waiting for her to calm down. But he DID realize that
this was a serious subject, even if he hadn't taken the
time to think much about it.
His hands came up and gripped her shoulders. She tried
to pull away but he held her tightly.
"Look, I love you. I don't want you to be mad at me.
Whatever you want me to do I'll do, but don't just get
mad. If you don't want to get pregnant, then fine. If
you DO want to get pregnant then I'll... I don't know
what I'll do, but it will be the right thing. If you
want to wait and stop then I'll do that too. Just tell
me what you want."
Debbie heard the honesty and care in his voice, even if
he wasn't very eloquent about it. She felt those
flutters in her stomach again and suddenly wanted to go
to bed... and not alone.
"That's the problem." she moaned. "I don't KNOW what I
want to do. I don't know what to ask YOU to do. I just
need some time to think about this and talk about this
and decide."
"Then that's what we'll do." said her brother simply.
"I can live with that."
She kissed him then, hope surging in her heart that
somehow everything would be all right.
When the kiss broke Robby looked at her. "Can we start
not doing it tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.
She didn't get mad. She laughed instead.
"I'll do something for you that we used to do a lot.
And you can do it for me too. But that's as far as we
can go, OK?"
"I'm your man." Robby said, striking a pose.
They did end up in bed then, naked and panting. But
their heads were at opposite ends as they loved each
other with their mouths. They lasted a long time,
dragging it out. In the end it was Robby who had to
stop her from sitting down on his hard prick.
She cried.
But it was tears of happiness.
=========================================
To the delight of the workmen, Debbie began spending a
lot of time at the Nettleton mansion. She didn't tell
her mother, because she was arranging things at the
house and wanted to surprise her. She told Robby what
she was doing when he got curious about where she went
all day, and he started going with her. He began to
work with his uncle on refurbishing the root cellar,
making it into a more useful place, with a new roof and
door that could be secured. Robert didn't want any
workmen in that space, because he didn't want anyone to
know about the secret entrance to the mansion.
And, as they worked together, as often happens when
people share a task, they became friends.
The next month passed amazingly quickly, considering
that neither couple was engaging in sexual intercourse.
For Robby and Debbie it became a sort of game in a way,
to see which one would be the first to ask for more
than oral sex. Debbie taunted her brother, while she
sucked on his cock, milking his balls for their fruit.
She told him she'd made her decision, but that she
wasn't going to act on it until the wedding. When her
mother started her new life and began using her old
name, Debbie would begin her new life too, with Robby.
She wouldn't tell him what her decision had been.
For Ramona and Robert, it was more of an attempt to
build the suspense until they could be together as
husband and wife. Ramona went to the house a few times,
but the temptation to drag Robert into a bedroom and
fuck his brains out was too much. It was easier just to
stay away and meet him for dates in public, where it
was easier to control herself.
Ramona was also doing something else, that no one knew
about. She contacted an attorney at the home office of
the bank, which was in another state. As a
representative of the bank, and as handler of the
Robert Nettleton account, she asked, on his behalf,
what his sister would have to do to satisfy the bank,
so that she could make withdrawals from her account.
The attorney did the research into the account, which
had not been touched since 1951, when an order was
received to pay Elizabeth Nettleton's tuition at a
college. The lawyer wrote back to Ramona that all that
would be required legally was an updated signature
card, which could be supplied either by having Ms.
Nettleton come to the bank and execute it there, or by
having her provide a duly notarized card in the mail.
Once the new signature was received, she could access
funds again with no problem.
Twelve days before the wedding, Ramona announced that
she had to go on a short trip. One of her girlfriends
from college was getting remarried and wanted Ramona to
be there. She'd only be gone from Friday to Sunday.
Everything for her own wedding was on track.
Being in the house alone together was nerve wracking
for the twins. Robby had dreams of forcing his sister
and was so upset by them that he asked his Uncle Bob if
he could stay at the manor the rest of the weekend. He
told his sister exactly why he was doing this, and
apologized, even though he couldn't control his dreams.
Ramona, who really did visit her old college roommate,
didn't have to go to a wedding because there wasn't
one. Michelle was happily married with three children.
But Michelle was a licensed Notary Public, who knew
Ramona Shanks was also Elizabeth Nettleton. Things like
that are almost impossible to hide from one's roommate,
and secrets are often shared in the dark of night when
sleep comes slowly. Ramona was nervous about her plan
only because she had to tell Michelle about the
incestuous marriage. The only reason Ramona felt she
could do this was because, in the dark of night, back
in college, the secrets Michelle shared with Ramona
involved lurid descriptions of her love affairs with
her father and two brothers, all of whom hoped she
would graduate college and come back home. While
Michelle loved all three men, there was competition
between them for her that she didn't love, and she
decided to live a more normal life.
But Michelle would understand why Ramona was doing what
she was doing. And more importantly, she'd keep her
mouth shut about it.
Michelle notarized the new signature card, placing
various stamps and seals on it and mailed it to the
Carver State Bank in Nettleton herself. She charged
Ramona one dollar for processing the document.
Then Michelle, who worked for a tax attorney, began
filling out the paperwork for the other thing Ramona
wanted to do. That process would cost ten thousand
times as much as the notarizing of the signature card,
and then roughly five or six thousand dollars a year
after that in administrative and legal fees. But the
law office would provide all the help needed for
Ramona's plan for as long as it was needed.
Kissing Michelle on the cheek, Ramona drove back to
Nettleton to get married.
The wedding was scheduled for the fifteenth of
September. That was because that was the date that
Elizabeth and Robert were reunited in foster care after
being separated at boarding school. By sheer chance,
that was one day after the twins celebrated their
sixteenth birthday. Ramona and Robert talked to the
kids about why they wanted that particular day for
their wedding. Both kids didn't care about the
proximity to their birthday and, since this was their
first birthday since they had... consummated... their
relationship, they even thought it was kind of
appropriate.
The birthday celebration was a quiet affair, amidst the
storm of emotion that surrounded the wedding. That was
OK too. Ramona was busy with last minute wedding
arrangements, but took time at lunch to have a small
party. After that, Robert drove them to the Driver's
License Office, where they took the test and were
issued brand new licenses.
Then the kids were left to their own devices for the
rest of the day. Debbie, just dripping mystery, told
Robby that she had ordered his birthday present in a
catalogue, but that it hadn't arrived yet. He tried to
find out what it was, but she wouldn't budge. Robby, at
the suggestion of his mother, had gotten Debbie
flowers. He had gone to the florist shop on Broadway.
It had been hilarious.
"Yes, can I help you?" asked the middle aged woman
behind the counter in the sweet smelling store. Her
name tag said "Madge".
"Uh... yeah... I need some flowers." said Robby.
"Wonderful! What kind of flowers do you want?" asked
Madge.
Robby blinked. "Um... I don't know. What kind do you
have?"
Madge stifled her groan. "How about this? Who are these
flowers for? What's the occasion?"
"Oh!" said Robby. "It's my sister's birthday."
"I see" said Madge. She'd made up literally thousands
of bouquets of flowers, but flowers for a teenaged
boy's sister's birthday was a new one for her. "And how
much do you want to spend?" she asked.
"Gee," said Robby. "I didn't think about that." He
pulled out his wallet and peered inside. He pulled out
three crumpled one dollar bills. "How much are flowers
anyway?" he asked.
Madge sighed. "You've never done this before, have
you?"
"Done what?" asked Robby, looking from the three
dollars to Madge.
"Gotten a woman flowers." said Madge.
Robby ducked his head. He didn't know why, but suddenly
he felt like he was supposed to have gotten somebody
flowers a lot of times already, and dropped the ball.
"Uh... I don't guess I ever did." he admitted.
Madge eyed the bills in his hand. "How about I put a
nice rose in a bud vase and put a ribbon around it and
you can give that to your sister.
Robby thought about that. He remembered how happy
Debbie had been when Uncle Bob had given her a whole
bunch of flowers, and one didn't seem like very much to
him.
"How much would a whole bunch cost?" he asked.
"Of roses?" asked Madge.
Robby had a flash of brilliance. "Yeah, like maybe
sixteen of them."
Madge eyed the boy. "Now you're talking closer to fifty
dollars." she said.
"FIFTY DOLLARS!" yelped Robby. "I don't have fifty
dollars!"
Madge wanted to chuckle. The boy looked so distressed.
"Well, they're three dollars apiece." she said. "Look,
I'll give you two roses and the vase for the three
dollars you have. I need to get back to work. I have a
ton of things to do. There's a big wedding tomorrow and
I've never handled anything that big."
Robby was still shocked by the idea that sixteen
flowers could cost that much. Her comment gave him
something to say. "Yeah, that's my mom's wedding."
Madge blinked this time. "Your mother is Ramona
Franklin?"
Robby nodded, looking at his three crumpled bills.
Madge's attitude changed dramatically. "How would you
like to earn the flowers?" she asked.
Robby looked up at her. "Earn them? How?" he asked.
"I have to get so many flowers over to that mansion
that it's going to take four or five trips in the
station wagon. You help me get them all over there and
I'll make you up a nice bouquet of flowers for your
sister. Are these flowers for the wedding too?" she
asked.
"No" said Robby. "It's her sixteenth birthday today.
That's why I thought about sixteen flowers."
Madge sighed. What a sweet boy to think of his sister's
sixteenth birthday like that. She exploded into action
and directed Robby, who loaded up the station wagon and
rode with Madge to the Nettleton mansion. Madge had a
sort of map of where everything went, both in the house
and outside on and around the gazebo. It took six trips
in all, but when they were done Robby left the shop
with a long white box containing sixteen pink roses and
two dozen long stemmed red roses, artfully bound
together with ribbons and baby's breath.
"I think she'll like these." said Madge, handing the
box to Robby.
"You don't think she'll be upset because there's no
vase?" asked Robby.
"Trust me" said Madge. "If you weren't her brother
you'd get a whole lot more than a thank you kiss on the
cheek."
==============================================
It was a fairy tale wedding. The weather was beautiful,
with a dark blue sky filled with fluffy clouds. The
weather had cooled enough that the heat wasn't as
oppressive as it had been only a few weeks before.
There was a light breeze, but really all that did was
make the decorations move around a little. As much
trouble as Ramona had gone to to plan this wedding,
there were only fifty or sixty guests present when the
ceremony began. Everyone from the bank had come, of
course, and another dozen people Ramona had become
acquainted with over the years. Sixteen missionaries
from Robert's old group showed up. They brought with
them a quilt just like one of the ones Ramona had made
and given away. Hers had been used as a pattern and
dozens had been produced with painstaking labor in a
village thousands of miles away. Making them had become
the primary income producing venture for a group of
widows in the village. There were differences,
primarily the design in the center of the quilt, which
was a beautiful rendition of an African looking pair of
masks, stitched in beautiful detail. Robert laughed
when he saw them, and explained that they were
fertility symbols.
The wedding itself was simple and quick. The orchestra
played, and Debbie and Renee strolled up the walk to
the stairs of the gazebo, where they met Robert and a
man named Theodore Stapinski, who flew in from Pakistan
to be Robert's best man. They had served together as
missionaries and Theodore had once saved Robert's life.
Ramona emerged from a striped tent that had been set up
as a dressing room for her. She had opted for a formal
gown, rather than a wedding dress, and she was
beautiful in it, escorted by her tall, handsome son.
Afterwards there was a reception in the house. No one
other than craftsmen had been in the house yet, so
there was a great deal of excitement. People gawked at
the double curved staircase that led up from the foyer,
which was full of flowers and a table with gifts on it.
A buffet had been set up in the dining room, with
chairs for about thirty people there. Others took their
food and spread out into the parlor, and living room,
and even some in the kitchen. No one in Nettleton had
been in a house like this, and they all loved hob-
nobbing with what they thought was the richest couple
in five counties. Little did they know, but Robert and
Ramona were, in fact, the richest couple in more like
five states.
Ramona pulled Robert to the table of gifts and opened
them, while Renee wrote notes in a little book about
who each gift was from so that Ramona could send thank
you cards later. Debbie waited until all the other
gifts were opened and then handed her mother one last
box from under the table.
"It's from me." she said. "Well, sort of. I had some
help."
Ramona opened the box, and when she saw the doll she
froze. Tears welled up in her eyes and she reached into
the box to stroke the doll's face with one finger.
"I thought she was lost." said Ramona, her voice
catching.
"I played with her when I was little." said Debbie. "I
didn't know she was yours then." She whispered the next
part "Uncle Bob fixed her up and thought you'd like to
have her back."
Debbie got a hug and left streaks of mascara on her
cheeks and lipstick to go with it.
"Oh!" said Ramona. "I almost forgot. I got you
something too. I'll be right back. She walked quickly
to the roll top desk in the den and pulled out a large
envelope, which she carried back to the foyer.
"You said you could think of ways to help people. Now
you'll have your chance." Ramona handed Debbie the
envelope.
Curiously, Debbie opened the packet and pulled out a
thick sheaf of papers. The cover sheet had a large
stylized "F" on it, under which were the words:
"Charter of the Franklin Group". That was followed by
what looked like paragraphs of legal language, with
sentences beginning with "Whereas".
"I don't understand." said Debbie, leafing through the
documents. It would take a long time to read them all.
"I set up a foundation for you. It's a non profit
philanthropic organization for the disbursement of
funds for worthy causes. I put some of my money in an
account for the foundation to use. You're the
chairwoman of the group. You'll have to put together a
board of directors, and hire a staff and rent some
office space. Then you and your board will have to
decide which causes deserve to be funded and all that.
It's going to be a lot of work. I may not have done you
any favor at all, but I want you to have the chance to
do good with the money."
"How much money?" asked Debbie, still shuffling papers.
"I started with twenty million." said Ramona, like she
was talking about marbles, instead of dollars. "The
group will have to do some fund raising and investment
to replenish funds you disburse."
Debbie's mouth fell open. She swayed and Robert, who
had been watching events unfold with barely suppressed
delight, steadied the girl.
"Twenty million... dollars?" asked Debbie, her voice
cracking.
"It's about a quarter of my inheritance." said Ramona,
smiling. Bobby warned you that money could be an
unsettling thing." She hugged her daughter. "We'll help
you, of course. That much money will bring out the
sharks, but I think you'll do well. Are you up to the
challenge?"
Debbie sagged into her mother's arms. "I have no idea.
I think I might have peed my pants. I need to sit down
Mommy."
Debbie sat, staring at the papers in her hands, as the
orchestra started playing and people danced. Robert and
Ramona danced first, and then four or five other
couples joined in. When the second tune started Robby
tapped his uncle on the shoulder.
"Can I dance with my mother?" he asked.
"Most assuredly." grinned the man, and stepped away. It
was a slow dance and they danced closely. Ramona
pressed herself against him, her lips by his ear.
"Thank you my darling." she said.
"What for?" he asked.
"For being you... for loving me... for giving me away."
she said.
"I still wish I hadn't done that." he joked.
Ramona squeezed him. "When we get back from the
honeymoon I think you and I will find some time to
spend together." she whispered. She pushed her mons
against him gently. "I think you'll find that while you
gave me away, you won't have lost me."
Later, his dick still stiff from dancing with his
mother, Robby asked Debbie to dance, also during a slow
number. They maintained a respectable distance as they
saw people smiling at brother and sister dancing at
their mother's wedding.
"Your birthday present got here today." said Debbie,
smiling widely.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I can't tell you that!" she giggled. "Birthday
presents are a surprise. You wouldn't be surprised if
you knew what it was when you see it."
"Can I have it now?" he asked.
Debbie shook her head. "It's private, between you and
me. Well, I guess mom and Uncle Bob could see it, but
nobody else." she said. "We'll wait until the guests
leave. You're a big boy. Be patient."
Robby also danced with a number of other women, mostly
from the bank. He enjoyed holding them in his arms and
swaying to the music with them. They, in turn, enjoyed
being held by a strong young man who they didn't have
to worry about. They danced all the closer because of
that and more than one left the wedding to drag their
husbands back to their bedrooms.
The reception was planned to end at four in the
afternoon. That was for two reasons. First, the
newlyweds had a plane to catch, and didn't want to have
to hurry to get to the first leg of their four day
honeymoon. That it was only four days was because
Ramona had decided she didn't want to quit work. Not
yet, anyway. A lot of her social structure was
underpinned by her friends at the bank, and she didn't
want to abandon that. And she insisted that she receive
no special benefits at work either, because of who she
was now married to. She only had four days of vacation
left for the year, and that was all she asked for.
The other reason was that, if they kept the guests
longer, it would run into the supper hour, and Ramona
and Robert wanted their first married supper to be a
family supper. That meant that the reception ending
needed to be backed up to a time that would allow Ramon
to prepare supper, and for the four of them to eat it
without haste.
A bell rang and the guests lined up to file past the
Nettletons and their two teenaged children. A few of
the men claimed a kiss from the bride, who gave them
out willingly, not minding strange lips pressed against
hers for such a short time. Several of the ladies
hugged Robert, but none tried to kiss him, with one
exception.
Renee was last in line, her husband preceding her. When
he kissed Ramona firmly on the lips, she suggested that
what was good for the gander was good for the goose and
reached her lips up to Robert.
Ramona had told him what Renee had said about him in
prior months and so he gave her a kiss that was much
longer, with much softer lips than a lot of people
would have considered proper. He also let his hand slip
very low on her back, almost, but not quite cupping her
left buttock, which was hidden from the others in the
room. She sagged in his arms a little and was
breathless when the kiss broke.
"Thank you for helping me fight my battle." he said
softly. "Were it not for you Ramona may never have
given me a chance."
Renee's eyes were a little unfocused from the kiss.
"That's OK." she sighed. Then she giggled, her eyes
clearing. "If I couldn't have you I wanted the next
best girl to get you." Then she turned to Ted who was
looking at Debbie like he was considering kissing her
too. "Come on Romeo, I have something I want you to do
for me." She stopped in front of Debbie and hugged her,
kissing her on the cheek. "Weddings always make me so
horny!" she whispered. Debbie hadn't been expecting
that from an adult, and the shock showed on her face.
Renee laughed. "Don't worry about it. You'll understand
some day."
Debbie, though, understood very well already. She just
hadn't expected an adult to say something like that out
loud. The wedding had made Debbie horny too. She looked
sideways at her brother and felt her pussy tighten up.
Finally everyone was gone. Ramona had already made the
Lasagna, and had put it in the refrigerator to keep.
Now she lovingly re-created the same meal that, last
time, had ended so disastrously in her old home.
"You all go change clothes while I finish this up." she
said.
The three of them went upstairs and, after changing
clothes, Robert had a suspicion. He quietly let himself
into the secret passageway and stepped up the hall to
look into his new step-daughter's bedroom. She was just
dropping her dress onto the bed, now dressed only in
panties and thigh-high hose. She was gorgeous, he
thought, her body that perfect shape that went with
young women in the prime of their lives. His intent
wasn't to spy on her nakedness, though he enjoyed
seeing that. As he had suspected, he saw the door open
and Robby step into the room. He was already dressed in
jeans and a T shirt.
"Um... do you need any help?" he asked his sister, who
turned her head to look at him.
"What a bunch of hooey!" she snorted. "You just want to
ravish me."
"OK" agreed Robby happily. "Want to be ravished?"
"Mom took me to the doctor last week." she said,
pulling on a pair of terrycloth shorts. "She got me a
prescription for birth control pills."
Robby was obviously stunned. "She did?! I didn't know
that! Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
"Because, my horny brother, you have to take them for a
whole month before they're effective."
"A whole MONTH?!" moaned Robby. "We have to wait a
whole nother MONTH?"
"Don't you love me enough to wait another month?" asked
Debbie. Robby was so upset that he missed the tone in
her voice. Their watching uncle, though, heard
something disingenuous in her complaint.
"Of course I do." said Robby automatically. "But a
whole month?"
"I'll do something nice for you after supper, when Mom
and Uncle Bob leave for their honeymoon. How's that?
You know how much you like to feel my mouth on you."
Robby sighed. "You look delicious. Maybe I should have
you for supper instead of the lasagna." He leered at
his sister's still naked breasts.
"Supper first." said Debbie firmly. "Then your birthday
present and something else nice for you."
She pulled on a T shirt and they left together. Robert
returned to the master bedroom to find his new wife
also stripped to her panties.
"Oh!" she said as he came through the bookcase. "You
startled me. What were you doing in there?"
"I was returning the favor for your children spying on
us." he said, grinning.
Ramona's mouth made an "o". "You don't mean they
were..." she asked.
"No" he smiled. "Robby was most insistent, but your
daughter informed him that she is now taking birth
control pills, and that he must wait a month. He was
devastated."
"That's odd." said Ramona, pulling on the clothes she
planned to travel in. "When we got the prescription she
didn't seem all that excited."
"She is having to make adult decisions before she is
truly an adult." said Robert, taking his wife into his
arms. "Is there time before supper? You're daughter's
nakedness has gotten me ready for my bride."
Ramona pushed him away. "You didn't say she was naked,
you dirty old man. What will you do if they spy on us
again?"
"I will do the same thing I was doing the last time
they spied on us. I will be doing what I want to do
right now."
"Be patient, you ogre." she teased. "We'll be on the
island tonight and you can ravish me all you want.
Until then you'll just have to think about it." She
patted his crotch as he reflected on how much she and
her daughter were alike, even to the point of speaking
alike.
Supper was charged with emotion, not just because of
the wedding and the good food and the family
atmosphere. Everybody at the table was horny, though
the women would have denied it to preserve their facade
of control. The meal itself helped them all deal with
their emotions. The asparagus and olives and deviled
eggs announced both the importance of the meal, and
that this was a time to be together, and to put aside
personal desires. It was a good meal... a good start to
their life as an expanded family.
Then there was the leave-taking to get through, during
which both women, for some reason, felt compelled to
cry. Ramona kissed her son goodbye on the lips, a long,
lingering kiss. She let her tongue flick against his
briefly and parted from him breathing deeply. She
turned to see that her husband had taken the same route
with Debbie.
Debbie, when her uncle kissed her, was unprepared for
the kind of kiss he gave her. It took things a level
higher than their last lingering kiss, on that night
when he had presented her with a bouquet of flowers.
That kiss had taken her breath away. This kiss made her
want to be naked. It was like her kisses with Robby in
some ways, as her uncle's tongue invaded her mouth and
her own pressed against it. He tasted different, and
she felt the stubble of his whiskers on the skin around
her lips. Her knees got rubbery and she realized she
could get used to being kissed by him, just as she
loved being kissed by Robby.
Debbie and Robby stood hand in hand at the top of the
steps to the front door as they watched their mother
and uncle drive out of the gate. Debbie turned to her
brother and gazed at him.
"Go up to your room. I'll get your birthday present and
call you when I'm ready to show it to you."
"OK" he said. He was jumpy with nervous sexual energy.
He paced in his room, not sure how to deal with his
pent up emotions. He thought about beating off, but
knew she planned to suck him, and wanted to be hard for
her. She liked the taste of his spunk too, so he wanted
a full load to give her. He wondered vaguely what his
birthday present was, but it was unimportant, compared
to loving her.
He heard the knock on the wall between their rooms and,
instead of going out in the hallway, went to the
bookcase in his room and pressed a hidden catch that
opened a secret doorway into her room. He had helped
his uncle service that doorway, oiling the long unused
hinges and locking mechanism, and replacing the rope on
the counterweights that moved the heavy section of
wall. As her bookcase swung open he found her facing
him and his jaw dropped.
Chapter Seventeen
=================
Robby's birthday present was the outfit Debbie was
wearing. It was a mixture of marina blue and sky blue,
with gold threads in it that sparkled in the light. It
had originally consisted of five items, though Debbie
was wearing only four of them. Her legs were encased in
black sheer silk stockings, held up by a garter belt
that was sky blue and lacy. Over that was a pair of
panties that were so brief as to cover only her mound
itself, with thin straps that rose across each hip and
went to the back. They were the darker blue. Over that
was a diaphanous jacket, again the lighter blue. There
was no way it was designed to keep a woman warm. Rather
it's purpose was to showcase what was under it, in this
case, the panties and her breasts. She had decided to
leave the bra off. She might wear it for him later, but
not tonight. She had taken flavored lipstick and
darkened her nipples hastily, during which they became
erect as she thought of her brother next door and what
she had planned for him. Her breasts pushed proudly
against the almost invisible cloth of the jacket.
"Happy Birthday." she said softly.
Robby was trying mightily to control himself. In one
way he thought she was cruel, for showcasing the body
he wanted so much, but was being denied... at least for
a month. That thought made him react a little
differently than Debbie might have expected.
"There's no way I'm wearing that thing." he said
firmly.
Debbie was thunderstruck. Her mouth opened and closed
as she tried to respond to his comment.
Robby stepped forward and took her face in his hands,
sliding in under her hair, which was down and flowing
to her shoulders.
"But it looks good on you." he said. He kissed her
several times on the lips. "So I'm going to let you
keep it as part of YOUR birthday present.
"You got me a present too?" she asked, her voice
rising.
"Yeah. It cost a lot, so I had to work for it. I wanted
to surprise you, but I'm not a tease like some people I
know, so I didn't tell you I had it. You want it now?"
What Debbie wanted now was her brother... doing what
she expected this outfit to require of him, whether he
had permission or not. She had planned this evening
very carefully, but things had already gone a little
bit awry.
Before she could say "No, you can give it to me later."
he backed up and said "I'll be right back."
He darted through the open bookcase and she saw him go
to his bed and get on his knees and reach under the
bed. He turned and she saw something white before his
back obstructed her view.
"Close your eyes." he yelled.
Debbie closed her eyes most of the way, but peeked
through her lashes.
"Cover them with your hands." yelled Robby, knowing his
sister too well.
She snorted, but did as he asked. She heard him come
into the room.
"OK" he said quietly.
Debbie opened her eyes. Robby had stripped off his own
clothes and was naked. He held in his arms the long
white box with the flowers in it for her. Her heart
thumped in her chest as she reached for them. She
lifted them out of the box like they were a baby... too
precious to chance dropping. The pink roses were framed
in a halo of red ones, with tiny white flowers on thin
stems scattered throughout.
"There are sixteen of the pink ones." said Robby,
feeling like he had to explain it.
Debbie raised her eyes to her brother's. He could see
emotion in them, but she didn't say anything. She took
a shuddering breath, bringing the roses to her nose and
he realized she had been holding her breath for some
reason. Her eyes never left his, though, and they
looked... strange. He had never seen quite that look in
her eyes before. She almost looked mad, like she was
trying not to explode.
"They cost a lot." he said, feeling the urge to back
up, in case she threw the flowers at him or something.
Debbie turned suddenly and took the flowers to her
bureau, where she lay them tenderly at the base of the
mirror. She turned around and stepped back toward her
brother. Her hand lifted to the bow at her neck and she
pulled a loose end she found there. The jacket drifted
off her arms, sliding down her back to float to the
floor.
"Take my panties off." she said.
Robby blinked. She sounded normal, but still looked...
wild somehow. He knelt and grasped the strings that
went up and over each hip. He pulled downward on them
and gasped to see that, under the panties, all her
pubic hair had been removed. Her pussy lips were plump
and dark... thick... with a thick greasy moist look to
them. They were so fat that he couldn't see her clit.
He licked his lips. He could find it. He pushed his
face toward her shaven pussy.
Her hands grabbed his hair and stopped him.
"No." she said, pulling upward.
Robby stood. That look was in her eyes. He was sure she
was mad. Was she going to deny him contact, just
because all he'd gotten her for her birthday were some
miserable flowers?
"I don't want that right now." she said. Then she
kissed him.
That kiss communicated to Robby that he was a fool. It
interpreted that new look in her eyes as one he hoped
he'd see often... daily, if possible. The passion with
which she kissed him was almost animal... hungry...
demanding. Still holding the kiss she stepped, forcing
him to shuffle toward her bed. She tried to keep the
kiss even as they fell on top of the bed, the awning of
the four poster shaking as the posts vibrated. But she
had to pull her lips from his to scoot and scramble up
on the bed properly, where she lay back, her legs
spread, her hair fanned out on the pillow.
"I want you in me." she said, her voice husky.
Robby felt electricity flash through him almost
painfully as she offered him what he so desperately
needed. His lust made him more forceful than normal
and, as he hunkered over her and felt her guide him to
her slot, he entered her roughly, slamming deep on his
first lunge, spreading her fat pussy lips apart and
mashing the clitty he had been unable to see.
"OHHhhhhhhhh" she moaned. "I've missed this so much."
All of Robby's attention was on the soft warm pussy
that was clasping his erect tool. He felt the
beginnings of a premature ejaculation and held still.
"Don't stop" she moaned.
"I'm too excited." he groaned in her ear. "If I move
I'll cum."
"Oh." she breathed into his own ear. "And if I do this
will you cum?"
She flexed her pussy muscles, squeezing his prick
tightly before letting her pussy relax, and then doing
it all over again.
"Ohhhhh yes... don't do that pleeease." he groaned.
"Or you'll cum in me?" she whispered, her tongue
flicking out into his ear.
She felt his penis swell and felt is butt muscles tense
under her hands as he prepared to jerk his penis out of
her. As excited as he was, he remembered her mention of
having gone on the pill, and that they weren't
effective yet. And, as much as he wanted to flush her
full of his seed, he knew that unless she wanted that
too it would not be a good thing.
He began to withdraw as he felt his semen begin its
one-second rush through his cock. He felt her hands on
his ass dig in and pull him back down.
"Cum in me." she whispered. "That's what I want for my
birthday. Cum in my pussy Robby."
Like fireworks, his semen burst forth from the tip of
his prick as he pressed it deeply into her, bathing her
cervix with his sperm-laden nectar. Even as his life-
giving fluid leave him, and his body pushed hard, he
wanted to pull out of her. Then her words penetrated
his consciousness. She WANTED this.
"Uhhhhhh" he grunted, a second strong spurt following
the first. He knew she hadn't cum yet, and he ground
against her in an attempt to bring her off.
Debbie tried to open herself even further as she felt
his spunk shooting into her. She wasn't close to an
orgasm, but right now an orgasm wasn't what she wanted.
"I haven't taken any pills." she whispered in her
brother's ear. He jerked into her at her words and she
felt another wash of heat from the tip of his penis. "I
don't want to take any pills." she encouraged him,
milking his spurting prick with her pussy muscles. "I
want you to make a baby in me Robby." She licked his
ear again, and felt him shudder as another spurt
flushed into her.
He sagged down on top of her, her stockinged legs
wrapped around his thighs, her breasts crushed against
him and leaving red marks on his chest.
"Ohh Deb" he sighed, dragging in a breath afterward.
"Do you mean it?"
She nodded, rubbing her cheek against him. "We don't
have to wait now. Mom even said we could hire a nanny
to help me raise a baby if we needed to. And you're
going to fall in love with some other girl some day, so
I want your baby now."
Robby's chest heaved as he pushed himself up to fix his
sister's eyes. "I love YOU, Deb. I don't plan on
falling in love with some other girl."
"We'll talk about that later." she said. "I gave you
your birthday present. I like the flowers... no I LOVE
the flowers... but right now I want to feel you
spurting in me again Robby. I want to cum with you
making a baby in me."
Robby gave her her wish.
They took a shower together... and he gave her her wish
again.
In fact, Robby gave Debbie her birthday wish four times
a day until their mother and uncle got back from their
honeymoon. Had they compared notes, Debbie spent three
times as much time with a stiff prick in her than her
newlywed mother did.
================================================
The twins went back to school, where their friends
were. The board of the Franklin Group was, in fact,
ninety percent other teenagers. One teacher was invited
to be on the board as well. Ramona and Robert were
consultants to the group. Robert explained that some
kinds of help were better than others, and that in some
cases, "help" could actually hurt. Two months later,
during a break in school, Debbie acted on the first
recommendation of the Franklin board. She and Robby
drove one of the few new things they'd bought since
their mother got married, and went to a place they'd
heard of called the Taylor School for Boys. They met a
man named Phillip Masterson, who gave them a tour of
the school.
The Taylor School accepted boys who were either
orphaned, or had been removed from their homes because
of abuse or the parents' inability to care for them.
The boys were of an age where they were not attractive
to prospective parents. Many of them had bad attitudes
when they arrived at Taylor. But Taylor accepted them
as the parents they'd never have. It was a technical
and vocational school, designed specially to prepare
such youth for life after the age of eighteen, when
they'd be abandoned by the government that had seen to
their basic needs, sometimes for all their lives.
Phillip showed them the automotive shop, the welding
and wood shops, a room filled with appliances that were
used to teach boys how to repair them. There was an
electronics lab, such as it was. The school had
formerly been a grocery store in an urban area that was
abandoned by its residents as they moved out to new
suburban homes. All the services were crammed into the
ground floor of the place, with living quarters for
twenty-three boys upstairs, dormitory style. Phillip
Masterson lived with them, in the same dormitory
setting.
They looked at the records of the school, and found
that almost every graduate was employed and living on
his own. There were four out of the hundred and fifteen
who had graduated who were in jail. Sixty four of them
were married and some had children already. It was an
impressive record of success.
When they asked Masterson what he needed, he laughed.
"I need a proper building. I need more staff. I need
complete sets of tools. I need nicer rooms, where the
boys don't have to be in public their whole lives. I've
got a plan for girls too, but I can't mix them... not
in this place. I'd need staff for them too. You want me
to go on?" He laughed again. "I'm happy for your
interest, but we need so much that I wouldn't even know
where to suggest we could use your help." He smiled. "I
appreciate you kids being interested, but I'm not sure
what you all could do."
Debbie just smiled. "Let's just sit down and talk about
that."
They left a very shaken Phillip Masterson when they
left. A consultant was hired, who worked with Masterson
and his staff. A mere three million dollars built a new
facility that would handle over a hundred boys. Three
State agencies kicked in money and expertise at the
urging of the Foundation's attorney. The new facility
would provide a place to train girls in secretarial
skills, design and manufacturing of clothing, cooking,
and a fast track to college to pursue a degree in
education. It would take a while to get the girl's side
going, as Masterson had decided that he had his hands
full with the boys' program, but the facilities were
there when a suitable director and staff were hired.
The money provided by the Franklin Group was not
required to be repaid, with one exception. Money was
made available for boys to borrow to start their own
businesses after graduation. That money had to be paid
back, with interest... a whopping half of a percent of
interest.
The word got out that the Franklin Group was willing
and able to do good things. That word would generate an
interest in the group that would cause the twins to
have to finish their education with tutors, because
they had too much work to do. But that would come
later.
For now, life was more or less normal, and when Debbie
and Robby got back and delivered their report to their
mother and uncle, there was a minor celebration and
hopes that something good would happen because of what
they had just decided to do.
That night, they settled in to watch Bonanza on the
brand new thirteen inch Sony Trinitron television, one
of the first available in the United States. They made
a habit of sharing the long couch when they watched TV
together, because that let them put the TV close enough
that they could all see and hear it better.
On this particular night, Ramona and Robert sat in the
middle, with Debbie on Robert’s other side, while Robby
sat beside his mother. Debbie leaned in and wiggled
under her uncle's shoulder, cuddling up to him. Ramona,
tired after her day at the bank, leaned back with one
hand on her husband's thigh, and the other on her
son's.
It was during a commercial that Debbie realized her
uncle's hand was cupping her right breast, which was
naked under her flannel nightgown.
"Uncle Bob!" she said. "You're a happily married man!"
she teased.
Her uncle looked down at his hand and he gave her
breast a little squeeze.
"I'm very happy right now." he teased back.
Ramona and Robby leaned forward to look at what was
happening. Despite Ramona's promise to her son, they
had not been intimate since the honeymoon. They had
come close a few times, when a hello or goodbye kiss
got a little carried away, but both were well taken
care of sexually, and the urge stayed... just an urge.
Most nights Robby and Debbie slept together, in his bed
sometimes, and in hers others.
Ramona elbowed her husband. "It's not fair for you to
play and I don't get to." she pouted. Her hand strayed
up Bobby's thigh to his crotch and cupped his thick
penis and balls through his pajama bottoms. Robby's
sucked in breath could be heard over the voice of the
announcer, extolling the virtues of Pepsodent
toothpaste.
Now it was Robert who leaned forward and he saw where
his wife's hand was.
"Methinks thou dost protest too much." he quoted. He
suddenly felt a hand on his own half hard prick and
looked down to see Debbie's hand on the outside of his
own pajamas.
"I can't reach his." she said demurely. "Besides,
somebody else already did, so I guess yours will have
to do."
They were all playing, but sometimes horsing around
goes farther than anyone would have anticipated. The
four of them missed Hoss Cartwright lifting a broken
wagon off of where it had fallen on his little brother.
They missed the straining, as his bulky muscles bunched
and his face contorted and he grunted.
That's because their own muscles were bunching and
straining, their own faces were contorted, as kisses
were given and taken. Soon Ramona's hand was inside her
son's pajamas, wrapped firmly around his stiff column
of flesh, and Robert's hands were roaming under the
flannel that covered Debbie's naked body. Robby's
fingers found his mother's slick slot, and Debbie's
hand touched, for the first time, the penis that had
brought her mother so much pleasure.
It was Ramona who broke first. She stood up, her
pajamas hanging open where Robby had unbuttoned them so
he could get to her breasts with his mouth.
"Bobby?" she said breathlessly. He looked up from
kissing Debbie. "Robby has been very bad." She closed
her pajamas over her naked breasts. "I need to have a
stern talk with him. I'm going to go do that in our
bedroom if that's all right with you." She looked down
at her husband's crotch. The fly of his pajamas had her
daughter's wrist coming out, attached to her arm. There
was movement inside the garment.
Ramona put her hands on her hips. "I see that Debbie is
being bad too. Would you be willing to take care of her
punishment for me? While I deal with Robby?"
Robert smiled up at his wife. "Yes dear." he said
simply. He looked down at his niece. "Debbie!" he said
sternly. "Go to your room!"
Debbie pulled his stiff prick out of his fly and jacked
on it two or three more times. "Yes Uncle Bob." she
said meekly.
Ramona took Robby to the master bedroom. She was
topless before they got there, and her pajama bottoms
hit the floor just inside the room. She pulled the
covers back and lay down, scooting over into the middle
of the bed. Robby was right behind her.
Robert let himself be led to Debbie's room. Once inside
she turned to him and stood, arms at her sides. She
looked uncertain.
"This is something you wish to do, yes?" asked her
uncle.
"I love Robby." she said.
"As I love your mother." he nodded.
"I don't want you to love my mother any less." she
said.
"Alas, I cannot leave her and marry you. It would cause
a scandal." he teased. Then moreb seriously. "Are you
worried about Robby? Are you afraid his feelings for
you will suffer what they are doing?"
Debbie shook her head. "No, I know he loves me. I'm not
worried about that. It's just that I've never... with
anybody except Robby... I guess I'm just nervous."
Robert used patience, taking things slow. They talked,
and lay together on the bed, kissing and fondling each
other. She talked about the house, and what she and her
brother had done in this very room, before they knew
they had an uncle. He teased her physically, until she
sat up and removed her nightgown to lie naked beside
him. Then he got out of his own pajamas, but still only
cuddled with her, stroking her, telling her she was
beautiful... wooing her in a sense.
And, when her passions had been raised to a fever
pitch, and she tugged at him, rolling onto her back, he
knelt between her thighs and let her experience what
another man was like.
In the other room, before Debbie even felt a penis
enter her body, Ramona had experienced four orgasms,
and Robby was working on his second.
Debbie was amazed at how different it felt, and how
much the same it felt. Her uncle was built differently
everywhere, including that part of him that probed her
depths. His back felt different to her roaming hands.
His chest felt different on her breasts. His mouth felt
different on her neck and nipples. Her orgasm felt
different too. It was a sweet one, that snuck up on her
and sent tingles all through her. The orgasms she had
with Robby were powerful and earthshaking. The orgasm
her uncle gave her was like licking ice cream... sweet
and long lasting.
At last Robert stopped. "I am very close, darling
niece. I would not place my seed in your body without
your permission." he panted.
Debbie stroked his sides. "I'm not too worried. I've
already missed two periods, so I don't think you can do
much more damage."
He froze, amazed. His wife and sister had told him
nothing of this. "I did not know." he said.
Debbie pulled at his hips, to get him moving again. "I
haven't told Mom yet. Or Robby either. I'm going to
have to pretty soon. I need to start seeing a doctor."
"This is true." said her uncle. "This is also a good
thing, yes?" he asked.
Her smile bloomed. "Oh yes! This is a very good thing!
I'm very happy."
"Then I shall be happy too." he panted. "I shall be
happy for you... and in you..." he grunted. "I shall
be... very... happy" he sighed as he sent his
incestuous semen deep in his pregnant niece's pussy.
They lay there, and talked some more, idly caressing
each other and catching their breath.
"Thank you." said Robert.
"Welcome to the family" giggled Debbie.
In the other room, Ramona lay spent and exhausted, both
from a day at work, and from four body wrenching
orgasms. Her son, having pumped her full of his spunk
twice, lay with his head on her breasts.
"Debbie's not taking her pills." he said to his mother.
"I know." she said. "She should have refilled them by
now, and she's never asked me to take her to do that."
"I probably shouldn't have cum inside you either." he
said.
"You can't make me pregnant, darling." she sighed.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because I already am." she said, running her fingers
through his hair. I was on time last month, like I
always am. You could set a clock by me if you wanted
to. Well, not any more. I should have started five days
ago. I'm afraid you're going to be a brother again...
or an uncle... or something, darling."
"Really?" he raised his head. "That's GREAT, Mom! What
does Uncle Bob think about that?"
"He doesn't know yet." said his mother. "I didn't want
to give him a false alarm. I'll probably mention it
tomorrow."
Robby raised up. His penis hung, full and heavy from
between his legs. It was as stiff as it had been when
he first came into the room.
"Let's celebrate" he leered.
Ramona moaned.
But she spread her legs.
It was probably two in the morning when Debbie and
Robert padded into the master bedroom, still naked.
Debbie had stopped long enough to get a washcloth and
wipe between her legs, but her inner thighs were
already glistening again as more of her uncle's sperm
seeped out of her. They stood, looking at the two
people in the bed, lying side by side. Debbie climbed
in beside her brother, while Robert went around and
climbed in beside his sister.
Fifteen minutes later there was only the slow, measured
rasp of people's sleeping breathing.
At the window the curtain moved. It was a small
movement, as if an errant breeze had wafted through the
window.
The window was brand new, however, and tightly closed.
There was no way for any breeze of any kind to have
penetrated to move the curtain.
And yet, the curtain moved again, this time hitting the
glass lightly, almost as if something had passed
through it, and then through the glass, leaving the
house, and perhaps trying to take the curtain with it.
As if pain was leaving the house... pain that stained
the soles of the feet of a ghost who turned a smiling
face on the four in the bed as it was finally set free
to go elsewhere.
END
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 43