How The Women Got Plastered and Patrick Got Busted

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Chapter Fifteen

You'd think that it would have been all open and above board, what with it being discussed between all of them like that.

You'd have been wrong.

It was one thing to agree to do things that no one else in the culture would understand, or permit. It was another to do it bald-faced. Everything from that point on was quite private, with one exception that I'll mention later.

After the ritual was done, the women went back to treating me ... and later Danny ... almost like they had always treated us before. As I write this, years later,I am still lover to all six women, but an outsider wouldn't have a clue. I still had disagreements with them, and fights with some of them. I still had to do chores, and get good grades. Almost nothing changed, except that, when they were in the mood ... and sometimes when I was in the mood ... they made that known and ... in private ... I emptied my balls, while they had orgasms.

Mom was the exception. The night of the confab, she asked me to sleep with her, in her bed. I did, and we must have made love four or five times. After that, her bed was always open to me at night, except for a little misunderstanding that I'll also tell you about later. I could have slept with her every night. Even if she had been my only lover, I doubt I would have done that. She really did take up the whole bed in her sleep.

Some nights I slept with Randi. She had her own signal that meant she wanted some attention. She'd swat me on my butt as she walked by. That was it. Just a swat that didn't even hurt. I didn't figure it out for almost a month. After that, I paid attention to what the others did. Most of them started out asking me to come over to the house to do this or that for them. When I got there, there was a horny woman waiting for me. There were a couple of times when they actually wanted me to do some chore for them, and no sex was involved. Aunt Christy was the hardest to read, except for when she was ovulating. I learned how to track a woman's cycle based on hers. There was a nine day window in the middle of that cycle, and she tried to get my sperm in her womb every one of those nine days. I had to do double duty, between her and some of the others, when Christy was ovulating. I didn't have any trouble with that, though. Once they knew they could have me whenever they wanted, they didn't get so frantic about it any more. There were lots of weeks where I only emptied my balls two or three times. At least in a warm pussy. Both Mom and Randi, my primary sources of relief, had decided they didn't want to get pregnant, and during each of their nine days, they wouldn't come near me.

Aunt Vanessa just called me on the phone, said, "I'm horny, Pat," and that was all their was to it. She did more kissing on me, when she visited, than any of the others. I think that's because she was pregnant. She didn't tell anybody until she showed so much that Grandma asked her when she was going to spill the beans.

It took me nearly a year to knock Aunt Christy up. It turned out that part of the problem was her. Everybody had thought that Danny just had a low sperm count. It turned out that was true. He did have a low sperm count. But she had a blocked fallopian tube or something like that. They found out about it when she was pregnant, and got it fixed.

Remember those nine days that my mother and Randi wouldn't let me near them, because they didn't want to get pregnant? They had been availing themselves of the "safe" man, during those times ... the one who couldn't get Christy pregnant. Of course I got the blame, when they turned up preggers. There were some very tense weeks in our house as Mom and Randi muttered and scowled, and it was a good thing I still had my own bed, because I sure didn't get invited into theirs for a while. They calmed down, after a while, though. Mom got all sappy about having another baby. Randi was less happy about it, until the baby started moving around in her belly. That changed everything. Once she saw it as a living, almost breathing little piece of her (and me), and you could see its little footprint through her skin sometimes, she got all sappy too.

We ordered more belly cast kits, and I made casts of all the pregnant bellies in the family. That was almost as much fun as making the original casts had been.

I thought it was almost hilarious when both Mom and Randi delivered babies with flaming red hair. I had the best time explaining to them all about recessive genes, and how that meant Danny had to be the father, instead of me!

They took it in stride. They even chose Irish names, to commemorate the occasion. Mom named her daughter Eileen, which means "Bringer of Light" because she brought so much light and happiness to her mother. Randi named her son Shamus, which means "The Supplanter", because she hadn't planned on getting pregnant. She loved him, though, and adjusted to being a mother well. Randi was the first to teach me what breast milk tasted like.

Aunt Christy's little boy had coal black hair, exactly the shade of mine. It was curly like mine too. She named him Jordan, my middle name, and I knew I'd try my best to knock her up again.

Aunt Vanessa's baby was known to be mine. That's because she didn't exert her privileges to Danny until after she knew she was pregnant. I was her only lover between the menstrual period she had after dallying with Danny, and the one she missed after I had spurted her belly full of my sperm several dozen times. She had a daughter, and named her Mona, after Grandma.

Grandma didn't have the libido of her daughters, and granddaughters. On the other hand, a lot had happened in the sexual world, in the time since she'd kicked her philandering husband out, and given up sex. She wanted to try everything. She said that acting out everything in the Kama Sutra kept her young. Some of that stuff is just plain goofy.

As for Tabby, she was actually serious about keeping her virginity intact. She kissed me good night almost every night, and rubbed her breasts in my face. When Mom and Randi found out they were pregnant, and I was banished to my own bed, Tabby interpreted "staying a virgin" to mean that no penis had been in her pussy, yet. That meant everything else was fair game. She came in most nights and lay down with me, cuddling and kissing, while I got her off with my fingers or mouth. For my High School graduation, she wanted to give me a blow job. She had secretly been getting lessons from Aunt Vanessa, working on a dildo. She was a good student.

The night before I left for college, (I got accepted at a private school, with a full ride, because I'm a genius, after all) they had a big party. There were four babies crawling around on the floor, and Aunt Vanessa was showing again. This time she didn't know whose it was. Nobody knew about the Everclear Danny dumped in the igloo cooler of punch he and Christy brought. Well, nobody except Danny and Vanessa. He whispered it in her ear, so she wouldn't drink too much and risk harm to the baby in her womb. Everybody else figured it out when Tabby got loopy and lurched into a wall. Mom and Christy took her up and put her in bed, but the party broke up soon afterwards.

I awoke to find Tabby sucking my dick, that night. When I asked her what she was doing, she said she hadn't kissed me good night, and since it was my last night at home, "maybe ever!", she couldn't not do that. She crawled up on my naked body and laid her naked body down, rubbing her pussy against the prick she hadn't quite finished off with her mouth. I thought she was going to make a mess with it, because while she was kissing me, she was jerking me off too. Then she stopped kissing me.

"I'm sorry, Pat," she said. "I don't want to get you in trouble, but I can't wait 'til I'm seventeen. That's a whole year away."

I'd had enough of that punch that I didn't react fast enough when she plugged my prick into her pussy and then pushed, with her other arm, sitting up straight. She slid down my pole like a fireman in a hurry, and sighed.

She'd borrowed that dildo. She told Aunt Vanessa it was to practice her oral arts, but she'd used it to make sure that when she did what she was currently doing, it wouldn't hurt.

It didn't.

The second I realized my root was planted in a fresh, virgin pussy, I went off like a volcano.

Then she got all worried, because it wasn't a good time to be doing this. By the time I got her calmed down, she was horny again, and got another dose of spunk. She really was a true Turner woman. I left for college, and she called me every day until her period finally came. It was a week late, but I think that's because she was so worried and emotional about it.

I'd only been gone two months when I started going home every other weekend. I know you're thinking it's because I had all this pussy at home, and could tap it any time I wanted to. That's true, in a way, but it's not the original reason I started going home every other weekend.

I got a call from Danny. He begged me to.

Oh yeah. I didn't tell you about how the project turned out. I wonder why? That was, after all, the whole point of the story ... right?

Making the busts was messy, but it worked. They looked almost eerie ... pure white things that were so perfectly detailed, and looked so much like the real thing. Cat was amazed by them, and demanded to know exactly what it took to make them. I showed her Tabby's cast, which was the only one I could get my hands on, and one of the boxes the kits came in, and explained how it was made. Her response was simply: "Fascinating!"

Cat arranged for a select group of students from the art department to paint the busts for me. When they got done, they looked so real I wanted to put my mouth on the nipples. She found a room we could borrow, and I put an ad in the paper for men for a research project. It read as follows:

Wanted: Men of all ages. College research project, concerning men's preferences for female body types. Approximately ten minutes needed. Involves viewing busts of naked women. Completely confidential. No monetary compensation provided.

I didn't know how long to run it. Cat had suggested having more than ten men in each of four rough age groups, so I paid for five days. I put my mother's number in the ad, which turned out to be a mistake. That happened around the same time she and Randi found out they were pregnant, and weren't happy with me.

The phone rang constantly over the next six days. All three of the women I lived with, went to stay with Grandma. It worked out to about one call per hour ... twenty-four-hours a day. And that didn't include the crank calls. I didn't get a wink of sleep, and I got grounded because Mom had to get a new number.

Cat also convinced me to set the busts up in a circle, on a table, facing out. They were lit from above, by multiple, angled spot lights. The table was covered with some black, shiny cloth. The men were sent in and told to circle the table up to three times, make their choice of favorite breasts, and then fill out a short questionnaire about why they chose that bust.

I used fifty men, age eighteen to twenty-five, fifty men age twenty-six to thirty-five, fifty men age thirty-six to forty-five, fifty men age forty-six to fifty-five, and fifty men over fifty-five.

Officer Dalton got to go first. He'd done me a favor. He was in the twenty-six to thirty-five group.

There was a sign in front of each bust that said "DO NOT TOUCH" in huge black letters.

Cat and I sat in one corner of the room, watching. That started after the sixteenth man to view the busts tried to smuggle my mother's bust out under his coat. He was pretty bald-faced about it, saying he thought he was supposed to choose the one he wanted ... and take it with him. Officer Dalton was still hanging around, hoping to have a second go, and offered to arrest him, but we decided not to push it. We did let Officer Dalton take it back in and put it back. He had clean hands, though, and didn't smudge anything, even though he felt it was neccessary to use the breasts themselves as handles. I thought about rewarding him again, by telling him it was my mother's bust, but decided it might be awkward if he decided he had to seize it as evidence or something like that. He'd given me back the negatives and contact sheets, but that didn't mean he'd give me back the bust.

After we started monitoring the viewings, almost every man who circled that table touched at least one bust, almost always squeezing a nipple, though some cupped a breast. Thank goodness the artists used paint that could be cleaned with a soft damp cloth. I spent more time cleaning smudges off of the busts than I did making them in the first place. Of course that brought back memories, and I caught Cat staring at the front of my pants.

"Who were these models, again?" she asked, at one point.

I hadn't told her that. "I signed a confidentiality agreement not to disclose that," I lied.

"Yes," she said, looking at me oddly. "I'd bet fifty bucks that you got laid more than once, doing this project."

"Cat!" I said, trying to sound astonished. "I'm only seventeen!"

"I know that," she said, still staring at me. "But the way these men are reacting to the busts, and thinking about what it involved to make them ... I just figure things got a little wild. Come on, I'm your professor ... you can tell me."

"No, I can't," I said firmly. "I agreed not to, and I won't break that promise. Shouldn't we be calling another group in?"

"What ever happened to all those fun-loving teenage boys with loose lips?" she murmured.

We reviewed the questionnaires together. They were supposed to be confidential. The last space on the form had said "Additional comments:".

Here are the statistics we garnered:

Sixty-eight percent of the questionnaires had a name and address on them, with phone number, both home and work, and comments like: "Have this model call me!", or words to that effect. The others had things like, "I'm in love!", and "*sigh*".

Twenty-two percent put down more than one bust as their favorite, generally with the note, something like: "How could anyone possibly choose only one?" on the comment line.

One guy (.004 % of the group, in case you're wondering) listed his annual salary, along with all the other contact information he wasn't supposed to put on the form. He also wrote down that he was single, and liked long walks on the beach at sunset.

Seventy-six, or 30%, offered to buy the bust they'd chosen.

I don't know how many touched them before we started monitoring the viewings, but 224, or 95.7% of the rest of them stroked, pinched or touched the busts.

Of the 234 men who were monitored, all of them ... a hundred percent ... circled the table more than six times.

In cases where more than one bust was listed as "the favorite", we credited the first number they wrote down as their favorite. Those results revealed the following:

52 men chose Tabby's breasts.
41 men chose Randi's breasts.
40 men chose Christy's breasts.
39 men chose Vanessa's breasts.
41 men chose my mother's breasts.
36 men chose Mona's breasts.


I could go into all the breakdowns we did, within age ranges, and all of that, but I can save you a boring paragraph by telling you that the findings were: Men love boobs. They love all kinds of boobs, and their age, whether we're talking about the men ... or the boobs ... just doesn't seem to make much difference.

That's right. The whole project ... dare I say it, was a ... bust.

Cat gave me an A, though. She said it was innovative, and interesting, and opened her eyes to the power of the skin under her blouse. She told me all this in a conference, on the last day of summer school.

"So," she said, when she'd finished. "Are you going to take any more of my classes?"

"Not right away," I said. "I have to finish High School, and I don't think it would be a good idea to take college classes at the same time I'm doing that."

"I understand," she said. "You'll do fine in college, Pat. I'm sure of it."

She got up and went to the closet in her office. She reached in, and took out a familiar looking box. She returned to her desk with it.

"Since you are no longer officially a student of mine," she said, sitting down, and placing a belly casting kit on the desk in front of her, "I am now officially free to ask you to make a cast of me." She looked at me through lowered lashes. "Would you be willing to do that?"

"Um ... the project is over," I said, needlessly.

"This cast is intended for purposes other than your project," she said.

"But you're not pregnant," I said, needlessly.

"Will you help me ... or not?" she asked, point blank. "I've already given you your grade, so you are free to decline, if that is your wish."

I looked at the woman, sitting in the chair ... half bald ... with wildly red hair ... smallish breasts ... lush hips ... and a tiny diamond in one lobe of her nose.

"Uh ... okay," I said.

She had me follow her to her house. She was very direct. Within five minutes of entering her house, she was stark naked. I almost laughed when I saw that, on the side of her body that had a bald head, she had the same color of bright red pubic hair. On the other side, her pussy was as bald as could be.

"I want you to do my cast exactly like you did the others," she said, standing there.

"Exactly?" I said.

"Exactly," she said.

"They weren't all the same," I said.

"Do me like you did the one you liked making the most," she said.

That would have been Randi's. She fucked my brains out before we made her cast. Then again, Grandma's had been a lot of fun. I thought about Christy's, which had been done after the confab that entitled them all to my prick. There had been four other women at her house when I showed up. They all wanted to watch. They were punishing her for fucking me first, when she didn't have permission, or at least their permission. She thumbed her nose at them by climbing on top of me right in front of them, when the cast was done. When she sank down on me it was like somebody had dropped a wolf in the middle of a flock of chickens. It was wild, but I couldn't do that here.

I finally decided it had to be Aunt Vanessa's session, and asked her if she had a big mirror. There was one in the bedroom that would do, and I made her stand in front of it while I stood behind her.

I started with her breasts, which were between Tabby and Randi size, round and soft, with no sag at all, and small, very pink nipples. I explained, as I pinched those nipples, why they needed to be hard. I "slipped" several times, putting the lubricant on her belly, and she spread her legs so I could "slip" again.

I improvised, by hauling my prick out, when I thought her cast was almost done, and masturbating it slowly, right in front of her.

She didn't wait for me to clean her up. As soon as I put the cast on the floor, she tackled me and threw me on the bed.

"This is a very dangerous time for me to be doing this, but I just can't resist. You have to tell me when you're about to cum and pull out. I'll suck you to get you off."

She rode me for a while, lying down on me to wiggle her still slippery body all over my chest. I rolled her over and pounded her like Vanessa liked it. She liked it too. She wasn't quite as loud, but her pussy could milk me better than any of the others.

"I got two of them pregnant," I panted, staring down at her, while making long, hard thrusts.

Her eyes got wide. I remembered what she'd said.

"You said you wanted me to do exactly what I did to them," I huffed.

"Pat!" she barked.

"You said to!" I grunted, going in deep. "You said to!" I moaned.

The first spurt geysered into her, and her mouth opened to scream. I covered her mouth with mine. She scratched bloody streaks down my back, as I spurted over and over again into her professorial snatch. I did notice, though, that her pussy went crazy, and milked every drop out of me. I'd swear I felt at least one heel on my butt, too.

When we were done, she pushed me off of her, and got up. She went to the bathroom, and I figured she was trying to drain my dangerous spunk out of her, but she came back immediately. She had antiseptic, which she treated the scratches with.

"Sorry," I said, remembering my manners ... much too late.

"My husband is gone for weeks at a time," she said, bending me over to put stuff on my wounds. "He's almost never home when I'm fertile."

"So you're ... um ... fertile?" I said.

She gave me a withering look.

"You knew that. I as much as told you that before you shot off in me."

"I shouldn't have done that," I said meekly. "But you did say to do exactly what I did with the others." I swallowed. "And a couple of the others said the same thing you did. About being fertile, I mean." I looked away. "And not cumming in them."

"Let me guess. You squirted in them, too, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

"Uh ... yeah," I admitted.

"So you wanted to get them pregnant?" She arched her eyebrows.

"It's not like I wanted to," I objected. "I just couldn't help it. I mean the idea of spurting in a fertile woman drives me crazy."

"Even me?" she asked, her voice low.

"Especially you," I sighed.

"I see," she said.

"I'm really sorry. I know I shouldn't have done it."

"Well, my husband will never get me pregnant," she said. "Can you be gentle too?" she asked, while she ran a fingerfull of cream down each scratch.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Show me that too," she said.

I did, and had been gently rocking in her for ten or fifteen minutes while she had had three orgasms.

"I'm about to cum," I informed her, shoving the tip of my prick into her cervical opening. "Do you want me to take it out?"

"It's a little late for that," she moaned.

"I will if you want me to," I panted.

"Leave it in," she moaned, wrapping her arms and legs around me.

I added five more healthy squirts to what was already in her womb.

Some of you have already written to me about how I started this story saying I had seven women at my beck and call, but only talked about six. I wasn't going to include Caitlin. She wasn't family.

She is now. She named our son Thomas. She's Irish too, and likes Irish names, like her own.

What does Thomas mean, you ask?

It means "Twin". She named our daughter Tommie, which is the female version of the same thing.

Which brings me back to the beginning of this story.

I now have four children, with one in the oven that could also be mine, and I'm not even through my first year of college!

It's not that all these women are demanding I support my children. At least not financially. I don't mind the father/child bonding that goes on, though Caitlin doesn't require that. Her husband thinks they're his.

But I still feel responsible, and I have this feeling inside that it's just going to get worse. Caitlin, for instance, is pissed off at her husband, because he hasn't changed his work schedule at all. I've been going over there to help, as often as I can, and when both babies are asleep ... well ... Caitlin is just as hot blooded as the Turner women. She reminds me that she's not on the pill. She says it makes me a better lover.

Tabby called me, the other day. Her birthday is three days away. She basically told me what happened the night before I left for college doesn't count, because it wasn't authorized, and is still a secret. So are the other three times she's been alone with me long enough to pull me between her naked thighs, when I was back home on weekends. She also admitted she hasn't been taking the pills Mom got her. She says they make her retain water, and look fat. I told her so does getting pregnant, but she won't tell me whether she's been having regular periods.

Aunt Christy and Uncle Danny have been trying, ever since red headed step children, so to speak, popped out of Randi and Mom, and it still isn't working for them. Aunt Christy's starting to ask for special visits again, and I suspect that it's during a certain nine days each month.

Aunt Vanessa says that two is good, but she wants a third. Every time I ask her if she's on the pill, she kisses me hard and says, "Make my mother proud!"

Randi still isn't dating anybody, and she keeps telling me how much she loves being a single mother! And, every time I go home, Mom claims me first, saying I'm her man. Somehow, I never seem to be home on a weekend that's dangerous for them, because they never deny me the chance to show them how much I love them.

At this rate, by the time I get through college, and get a real job, I'll have a dozen or more kids! At least Grandma's stomach is still nice and flat, whenever I thrust into her famished pussy. She is proud, of me, by the way. She told me so.

And, if that's not enough, it turns out that while Cat was in Lamaze classes, she showed around her second belly cast. She calmly handed me a list of twelve women who wanted one done of them! She cautioned me not to wait too late. When I did Cat's second one ... the one where she had twins in her belly ... she was so far along that putting the lubricant on got her milk flowing, and that led to having to get it to stop ... which involves ... well, use your imagination.

So What do I do?

I had a fantasy where I got to sink my spurting prick into all these women, and it came true!

My fantasies have changed, just a little bit, in the last couple of years.

Now I think about settling down ...

Maybe with only one woman.

The End

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