Prick Van Winkle

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1-2 | 3-4 | 5-6 | 7-8 | 9-10 | 11-12 | 13-14 | 15-16 | 17-18
19-20 | 21-22 | 23-24 | 25-26 | 27-28 | 29-30 | 31-32 | 33-Epilogue

Chapter 7

There was, after Val said Rip Van Winkle's name, one of those moments we authors call a "pregnant moment", where everybody knows something of great import has just happened, or is about to happen, and that lives will be changed as a result.

That pregnant moment gave birth rather more quickly than anything living that gets pregnant. But, like most births, this one was loud and full of angst, if not a little fear and pain.

The three girls found themselves somehow transported to the couch, where they were suddenly sitting side by side, staring up at the faces of six women and one man.

The telling of that conversation, if that's the right word for what happened for the next fifteen or twenty minutes, would be long and tedious, so there will be only a summary of the main points, or comments that were... discussed.

"How on Earth could you... forget... that you had found something like this?" asked Martha.

"We didn't exactly forget..." whined Becca. "We decided not to tell anyone about it."

"You what?" gasped four or five adults.

Val, the oldest, and the one who already lived away from home, where she could go again once the dorm opened back up, held up her hand.

"At first we thought everyone but us knew about who Great Grandfather Bob was. That Rip Van Winkle was our ancestor. The journal tells how he had to change his last name to Winkle just to get some peace after he woke up. We thought it was a secret, and that we weren't supposed to know yet."

She held up her hand again when four or five adults tried to interrupt her. When it quieted down (and it did - isn't that interesting?) she went on.

"Then, when we read the journal, we knew that telling anyone wouldn't do anybody any good. Rip Van Winkle didn't really understand why he went to sleep ... and he didn't know why he woke up, or what it was that woke him up. All that would have happened if people found out was that Grandpa would be taken away from us and dissected or something."

"And we knew he'd wake up." chimed in Fran.

"And how, exactly, did you know your great grandfather would wake up?" asked her grandmother.

"Well..." said the girl uncomfortably, "Rip woke up. So we figured Grandpa would wake up too."

Becca got her two cents in. "And we knew that when he did wake up, then we could tell our secret."

"That would be the secret that all of us already knew about... right?" asked Gidget acidly.

"Well," whined her daughter, "After a while we couldn't tell anybody because we were too old to play hide and seek and that's how we found it - playing hide and seek - and if we said we found it that way people would have laughed at us and... and... and..." She burst into tears, so frustrated was she under the intense scrutiny of all those hostile adults.

Bob was on his knees in front of her instantly.

"Hey, don't cry." he said soothingly. "We're not mad at you. It's just a surprise, that's all. Come on now. It's all right."

He held her hands, leaning against her knees, which were tightly closed as her body had taken on a defensive posture. His touch, and his youthful face so close to hers, electrified her and memories of what she had done with this man... to this man... as he lay sleeping added to her emotional burden. She blushed beet red as she felt tingles in various places around her body, and leaned back. She pulled her hands from his, more from self defense against the emotions racing through her, than because she didn't want to touch him. Then she balled up her fists and wiped her eyes, sniffling.

Bob stood up and faced the other adults.

"They did the best they knew how. And she's probably right. It probably wouldn't have made any difference. All it would have done was upset everyone. I'm awake now, I'm fine, I remember everything that happened while I was asleep, and we're going to be a family again. That's all that really matters."

"Where is this journal?" asked Martha, ignoring his heartfelt speech.

"It's in the desk." said Val. "We put it back in there for safe keeping."

"In the desk." said Martha woodenly. "You know, about five years ago I almost donated that desk to the local Public Television Station for their fundraising auction. The only reason I didn't was because I didn't think we could get it down out of the attic without it falling apart." She looked decidedly grumpy and that made her look older than usual.

So then ten people tried to cram themselves into the attic to retrieve Rip's diary. Nobody wanted to be left out of the adventure, and all insisted on climbing the steep steps and packing themselves into the dusty, hot room. Fran was the smallest, and she ducked under the desk and fiddled. There was a creak and a snap and her hand came out from under the desk with the book in it. It was snatched from her hand by Martha and there was the beginnings of a tussle when all three of Bob's daughters tried to take possession.

Bob had to raise his voice to restore order, and pointedly said "May I have my Great Great Grandfather's journal... please?"

His daughters had the sense to look abashed, and the book went to him.

Again, the gentle reader's indulgence must be begged as this tale is told. The following weeks and months were a veritable whirlwind of activity, examination and discovery, and all the Winkles - the Van Winkles as they now privately called themselves - were neck deep in that physical and emotional turmoil. As such, to tell their story demands that many different kinds of activities be described and some of that turmoil will inevitably seep into the narrative. So if things bounce around a little, have patience. All will, sooner or later, be revealed.

Bob read the journal out loud to his "new" family. Because of the length, it was decided to break it up into many small segments. It became a ritual of sorts for Bob to read a few pages each night, as they began to adjust to the fact that he was really awake, and was not, apparently, going to go back into his mystical slumber. With the exception of Martha, who had somehow convinced the others that he should stay in his old house "for a few weeks... to fully adjust..." the other women went on with their lives in a more or less usual fashion. The one difference was that only Martha still got to have sex with her father. In fact, as Bob got used to the idea, Martha got to have a lot more sex with her father than she had in the recent past.

That didn't mean the other women who had been engaged with him in the past forgot about it. Not at all. In fact, as they all gathered each night to listen to Bob read from Rip's journal, something began to happen that some of the women had not anticipated.

As he read to them, his baritone voice had an almost hypnotic quality, and the smooth planes of his face moved and twisted as he unconsciously used skills he had learned in High School speech class and musicals. His voice was that of an old time storyteller, mesmerizing the nine women. He always seemed to know just where to stop, when something was about to be revealed, and inevitably the women moaned as he closed the old journal, begging him to read more.

Rip, in his spidery, tiny writing, talked about his termagant wife who, along with all the other women of the town he lived in, made his life miserable for such common things as tippling a mug of ale now and then, and for enjoying a beautiful spring day by not wasting it on manual labor. He was overjoyed at being unemployed, as that gave him time to play with the village children and make their toys and go hunting with his faithful dog, Wolf.

He wrote at some length about the virtues of home gardening and of fowling, a pursuit which he didn't feel was real labor. Both, he felt, fed his family, which was, after all, a father's role, yes? That his wife disagreed with him, and wished to be wealthy enough to never have to raise a finger around the house, made him sad beyond his ability to describe in the journal. That was a theme he returned to to over and over again.

Sunny, Gidget and Polly, none of whom had ever been intimate with this man, and had, for the most part forgotten him most of the time, began to become infatuated. Each of them had tried to find the man of their dreams, and somehow each had found something much less. They loved their children, but the fathers of those children had been found wanting, much as Rip claimed to have been found wanting by his shrewish wife. And yet, rather than identifying with the wife, they chose to believe the description Rip made of himself, as an easygoing, happy-go-lucky loving man who wanted nothing more than to have enough to eat, to enjoy a beautiful day and to be able to play with children and make them happy. In their minds, had his wife been less of a bitch, he would have been loving and considerate of her too ... of course.

And the man who read all this to them was, as they believed, the direct descendant of old Rip. He had even met the man when he was a child... had actually spoken with old Rip. The old roll top desk and the journal in it were gifts to Bob by the legend himself! And Bob was handsome, and polite in a way that men had forgotten how to be, it seemed. Whenever he accompanied one of them on a trip somewhere he was most solicitous, opening doors for them, taking their hand to help them in or out of the car, and generally paying them the kind of honest compliments that twenty-something men just didn't do these days.

And it wasn't just the women in his family who noticed these things. Saleswomen all over town fawned on him, giving him the kind of service that, in New York City, would have demanded a tip. He didn't tip them. Instead, they gave him their phone numbers.

And at night the women listened avidly as Rip told of how his wife's razor sharp tongue beat down all happiness in the house, even to that of Wolf, Rip's faithful old hunting dog. His description of how Wolf's tail crept between his legs and his ears laid back even before they went into the cottage each day, successful hunting or not, made them all sigh. Polly and Sunny both had dogs in the house, and Gidget was still getting over the death of her own. Again, their heartstrings were plucked by the old man's words.

All the women delighted in taking Bob places. His ever present amazement at the advances of technology were a source of constant joyous laughter. It usually took Becca, Val or Fran to give him explanations of how things worked, but Sunny, Polly and Gidget almost always had a better sense of the timeline of when things had appeared on the market. There were constant references such as "I remember when that first came out. I was ten or eleven at the time and we couldn't afford one until they'd been in stores for several years."

Computers seemed like magic to Bob. Conversely, the manual can opener in June's kitchen drawer was completely familiar to him. While its overall appearance was different than what he remembered, it was instantly recognizable to him, being practically unchanged in fifty years. Automobiles, as Bob referred to them, also left his mouth hanging open. Air conditioning was something he neither understood, nor thought necessary. At the same time, news reports about concern over this or that country's nuclear ambitions produced discussion in which were voiced many of the same concerns that people in his day had worried about.

The first time he saw Val get a call on her cell phone left him laughing helplessly as he later described how she suddenly decided to talk to a noisy piece of plastic she pulled out of her purse. It was only after her actual conversation that he recognized the same language people had used fifty years ago to answer the phone. He was fascinated by the radio, and spent literally hours sitting hunched by one, hopping from station to station as he explored what to him was the amazing variety of sounds the little box would produce. Conversely, television didn't much interest him. The programs his great granddaughters watched horrified him. The ones their mothers liked seemed empty and vulgar. It wasn't until someone tuned the television to programs in black and white that his interest perked up. Mary Tyler Moore and Dick Van Dyke were his favorites, and he'd stop doing almost anything to see the Honeymooners or Jack Benny. Even though most of them had been produced after he went to sleep, they were much closer to the world he remembered than anything else on the tube.

And, as often as they could, the clan would gather, and more of Rip's journal would be revealed. And on each of those occasions the bond between the women and Bob would be deepened.

June, rather than Betty, was the next after Martha to resume her previous activities with her father. For a month she sat and wiggled excitedly as she sat with him, or went places with him, or had him over for dinner. Then one day he showed up unexpectedly, sent to her house by Martha to borrow something.

She was in her bikini again that day, lying out in the sun. The first she knew of his presence was when his shadow fell over her face. She flinched, not expecting anyone to see her, and opened her eyes.

"Daddy!" she said, relieved that it wasn't a stranger.

"I was hoping I'd get to see you in that getup again someday." he chuckled.

There had been much discussion about many things between Bob and the various women in his life now, but talk about sex had been avoided. There were too many secrets trying still to be kept. Even though Martha dragged him into bed almost every day she still tried to keep that a secret from the others.

But all of the women who had been intimate with him were fully aware that he retained memories of what they had done. It made for some emotionally charged interaction sometimes.

June sat up.

"Daddy, can I ask you a question?" she asked.

Bob stared down at the vast expanse of sweat-dotted skin on her body. Having gotten used to making love with Martha, his prick was almost always interested in a beautiful woman. It reacted to June.

"Of course." he said, wishing he could adjust his thickening penis.

"You remember how you said that you can remember... everything?" She got flustered. "I mean about what happened while you were asleep?"

That didn't help Bob's condition at all. Her voice was tied to some really great "dreams."

"Yes, dear." he said. He couldn't help but treat his daughters as daughters, even though he appeared younger than them.

"How did you feel about that?" she asked, looking away.

"I thought they were dreams." he said.

"I mean now." she corrected herself. "What do you think about... what we did?"

"Let's go inside." said Bob, feeling his own skin beginning to produce sweat. "I'm supposed to borrow a weed whacker, whatever in the world that is."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." said the woman getting up. "I didn't mean to bring back bad memories."

He held out his hand to pull her up. "Who said anything about bad memories? I'll be happy to answer your question. I just want to do it in the shade."

"Oh." she said, her voice small.

When they got inside June offered him something to drink.

"The weed whacker is out in the garage." she said. "I'll get it."

"That can wait." he responded. "How would you feel if I said I wanted to kiss you?" he asked.

June's eyes went round. She wasn't prepared for that.

"I'd love for you to kiss me." she finally said.

"And what if I said I wanted to take that little bitty bathing suit off of you and look at you naked?" he asked.

"Ohhh Daddy." she whimpered. "I miss what we did so much."

"Then let's do it again, sweetheart." he said.

It was hot, sweaty, frenzied lovemaking. They didn't even make it to the bedroom. He got his kiss while his hands went to unfamiliar ties and hooks. She helped him and then her fingers frantically tore at his own buttons and hooks until he stood naked, his shorts in a pool around his ankles. His prick was rock hard and reaching for her. Her routine was to mount him in bed, and that memory caused her to grab a nearby kitchen chair. She pushed him into it, his ankles still encumbered and then swung one long leg over his lap. Fisting his prick she kissed him again as she notched it and then sank down on it.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned into his mouth, her hips jerking spasmodically as her pussy was filled with hard dick. She jerked and bounced and cried out, having an orgasm within the first twenty seconds of their tryst.

"Ohhh Daddy I love you so much." she moaned, her green eyes staring into his. "I love this sooo much."

"I know, baby," he grunted, trying to force his hips up off the chair. "You told me so lots of times."

"I loved it when you made me pregnant." she moaned. Martha had informed her sisters that she had spilled the beans about all Bob's children. There had not been any direct conversation about that between Betty and June and Bob. There had never been an appropriate time. Now she felt free to talk about it.

"I still can't believe you three did that." he said, unconsciously yielding up to the desire to make her pregnant again.

"There was nothing as good as carrying your baby around inside me." she sighed. "It made me feel so close to you. It made all of us feel so close to you. I think that's why none of us ever got married. We couldn't imagine being able to feel that close to any other man."

"But you could have had so much more in life." he objected.

"We were happy, Daddy." she smiled, jerking her hips toward another orgasm. "We never regretted what we did for a minute." She leaned back and stared into his. "Like I'm happy now." she husked. "Spurt in me Daddy. I want to feel that again and see your eyes."

It wasn't hard at all for Bob to let loose.

"Yes, baby," he moaned. "I want to do that again too. Here it is sweet June... Uhhhhhh."

His prick bulged and spat as his daughter's smile widened, her eyes never leaving his. When his penis had coughed its last, she gave him a tender kiss on the lips.

"Thank you Daddy. Thank you so much. I love you so much. I can't believe how much I love you."

"I'll always love you too, sweet pea." he panted.

It was after that that June insisted it was her turn to host her father. All he owned were a surprising array of clothing, but it only took one carload to get that transferred. Martha groused about it, but June only smiled and said "You had your turn. Now it's mine." She had a harder time with Betty, who groused too. Finally the three women agreed that Bob would be invited to make the rounds, whenever he felt like it. They got together to tell him about that decision.

He laughed. "You all are acting like a harem." he said. "And you're treating me like some sultan or something."

"You are our sultan, Daddy," said Betty. "And we feel... we've always felt... like we were your wives. When momma left us we just took over for her."

Bob was surprised to find how easy it was to agree to their crazy plan.

It was strange to hear Rip talk, through Bob's voice, about sitting in the shade of the tree outside the small inn that had a big painted portrait of King George III on the facade. He told of how they got news from passing travelers, or when an old newspaper happened to come their way and was read out loud to them all by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster. His description of the people, the food, the basic feel of the village itself were all fascinating to the modern Van Winkles.

"It was my hunting that was also my escape from the dagger tongue of Dame Van Winkle, who, with the other women in the village set upon we peaceful men as we discussed politics. They haled us wastrels, vagabonds and tools of the devil. And so, one lovely autumn day I went for squirrel, to get some peace."

Bob closed the book with a sharp snap, and there were sighs all around.

"Can't you read just a little more?" wheedled Gidget. She had never married, like her mother before her. The difference was that the man she'd lain with, and who had given her Rebecca, had been her professor at the time. She'd fallen prey to his attentions, but he wouldn't leave his wife. It had soured her on men. Still, she had no experience with having a man around underfoot who was not being productive. So her sigh of "He sounds like such a nice man." was met with a snort from Sunny.

Sunny had been married, and was now divorced from the man who sired Val. She was only too familiar with the downside of a man who had no ambition, and who paid way too much attention to himself, neglecting both his young wife and their new daughter while he worked as what he called a portrait painter. Sunny compared his portraits to what she saw on the covers of science fiction books about aliens.

"He was a man who could have made a good living for his family." she said. "But he chose to go off and do what he liked. Don did that. That's why I divorced the bum."

Val frowned. "Mom, you know I love Daddy. I don't like it when you call him a bum. He's an artist."

"Well, if you call a man who hasn't sold more than two paintings in his whole life an artist, then I agree, he's an artist. He could have gone into graphic arts and made a good living though, and we wouldn't have had to scrimp and save for your college."

It was obviously an argument they'd had before, and Bob tried to lighten the mood.

"You know, I used to be quite a hand with a bit of charcoal and paper."

Sunny made a face. "Don't even go there." she said, holding up a hand, the palm facing him. "I'm beginning to get to know you and I like you a lot so far. Don't ruin it for me." she teased. Actually she did like her grandfather a lot. She appreciated the little things he did for her when they were together, and whenever he visited their house he was always the perfect guest. He was everything in a man she liked, without all the things she didn't. More than once she'd glanced at him and wished that he weren't her grandfather. She'd have liked to feel again what she hadn't felt for years with a man. She wasn't too keen on men by the time her divorce was finalized and since then she'd been too busy making ends meet to have a social life anyway. Still, at thirty-eight, there was a lot of life left in her. She was perky and interested in life and hadn't come even close to using up all her passion.

Bob also reawakened something deep inside Sunny that she had kept secret and buried for a long time. The last person she had told about it had been her ex-husband and he had used it against her. Among the people in the room, only Sunny knew that she had had a fantasy lover in her life for decades. He didn't have a face, because she didn't know what he looked like. She didn't know where he was, or what he was doing. All she knew was that he was her father... and in her mind they did wonderful sweet passionate things together.

The group broke up and most of them left. Bob was still staying with June, and Becca hung back, telling her mother she'd be home in a while. She said she wanted to talk to her grandmother.

In fact, it was her great grandfather she wanted to talk to.

She waited until her grandmother went to the kitchen to clean up the dishes they'd used. Bob looked at her questioningly. He hadn't had much time alone with his great granddaughters. It wasn't that he wanted to - or not - it was just that one of the adults was always around. The girls had plenty of input, but usually only when another adult was in earshot. He also hadn't pushed it because he had no idea how they felt about the things they'd done with him while he slept. His daughters had made it clear that they loved being his lovers, and wanted to continue in that role. But the girls, while they certainly didn't shy away from him, didn't send him any clues either. Becca was the first to approach him privately.

"What's up beautiful?" he asked. He flirted with all the women in the sense that he paid them all compliments as often as he could do so honestly. Because he was honest in these things, he was also naturally charming.

Becca smiled. She wasn't immune from his charm at all.

"I wanted to talk to you." she said hesitantly. "To ask you something."

"Shoot." he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Except that I don't know if I should or not." she added.

"Well, I don't know if you should or not either." he said amiably. "I guess you'll have to be the one to make that decision."

Becca frowned. "It's just that I used to talk to you all the time." she said.

"I remember." he said simply. "But, as you might recall, I never talked back."

"I know, but somehow it always worked out that I knew what to do if I talked about it with you first." she said.

"Oh, so this is about a boy, huh?" he guessed.

"Yeah... Phillip Hampstead. I have a date with him Friday night."

"That's not a name I remember." said Bob.

"I never talked to you about him, exactly." she said. "I mean I've sort of been doing the same things with him that I did with... some others..."

"And with me?" Bob couldn't resist asking. His memories of her hot mouth sucking down his spunk were bright in his mind.

She colored, her cheeks turning pink.

"Um... yes... you really remember that?" she asked nervously.

"Oh yes." he said, smiling. "You're very good at it, you know."

"Really?" she asked, her voice high.

"Have you had any complaints?" he asked.

She blushed more. "Well, no... but... I mean... most of them never had it done before I did it."

Bob didn't want her getting even more nervous.

"So what's your question?" he asked. "About this Phillip boy."

Becca darted a look toward the kitchen to make sure June wasn't in earshot.

"Well, I've never let any of the boys do anything... you know... down there?" She was beet red now, almost like she had a sunburn. "And anyway Phillip wants to put his hands in my pants while I... um... you know. He swears it will feel good and that he'll stop if I tell him to and... I just don't know if I should let him."

Bob didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"He swears he'll stop if you want him to, huh?" he said.

Becca nodded.

"Have you ever... hmmm... touched yourself... down there?" he asked.

She looked away and down at the floor, but nodded.

"And that feels pretty good, doesn't it?" he prodded.

She nodded again, ducking her head so her dark red hair covered her face.

"Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of." he said softly. She looked up, looking through her hair. "I mean we're on pretty familiar terms... you and I. I don't want you to feel embarrassed about asking me these things. I don't know for sure, but I suspect most girls do it at one time or another."

She smiled a thin smile and he went on.

"The point is that when a boy does it, it might feel even better and... well, you might not want him to stop. And that can lead to other things that you might not want to do... but by the time you have to make a decision, you're not thinking clearly. Do you understand what I mean?" he asked.

She shook her head and he sighed.

"When a man and a woman do these things, it's just natural to want to do other things, and pretty soon you're having sex with the guy. But if you had the chance to stop and think about it, you might not want to go that far."

Her head came up and her eyes were wide.

"I don't want to do that with him!" she said, her voice a loud whisper.

"That's what I mean. If you start letting him play, you might let him do that anyway."

"I would not!" she said, her voice firm now.

Bob knew better, but he also knew that young people think they know things that they just don't know.

"I have a proposal for you." he said.

"What?" she asked.

"How about you and I go somewhere tomorrow... or at least before Friday. I think I can show you what I'm talking about. We'll need to be someplace private. If it's all right with you I'll touch you the way Phillip wants to touch you and you can find out for yourself what it's like."

Becca's smile widened. this was something that felt natural to her... something that matched her prior experience with this man. Being intimate with him was something that did not worry her in the least.

"Okay!" she said, smiling. "That's a good idea! I like that idea." she said, getting excited. "Where should we go?"

Bob was at a loss to answer that one. Back in the day there had been a local makeout spot that all the kids went to, but he had no idea if it still existed, or had been covered by houses, like so many other places had while he slept.

"We'll find something." he said. "Why don't you give me a driving lesson? Martha tried a few days ago, but it was a disaster. I was afraid she'd have a heart attack."

"Deal!" yipped Becca. "I'll pick you up around ten, okay?"

"Deal." said Bob, mimicking her speech.

Becca skipped off out of the house and Bob went to find June. He came up behind her and reached around to fondle her breasts. He was already erect. Just thinking about playing with Becca the next day had gotten him that way. Now he had a chance to deal with the problem.

"You're horrible." said June, leaning back against him. She reached for a dish towel while he mauled her heavy globes.

"You taught me to be that way." he said into her hair.

When her hands were dry she turned in his arms and kissed him. Then, giggling like a school girl, she took his hand and led him to the bedroom where they had spent the last several nights entwined in each other's arms as he prodded her deeply. This night was no different and she arched her naked body under his as he shoved deep and his extraordinary semen flowed into her belly in long, strong streams. He watched her face as he came, staring into her grateful eyes as she accepted his offering... staring at what Becca would look like when she was older.

Whatever lucky man snagged that girl was going to be happy for a long, long time.

Chapter 8

The next morning Bob announced that Becca was going to give him a driving lesson.

"Do you really think that's wise?" asked June, still happy and sated from their early morning repeat of the night before. She almost wished that she were younger and not on the pill. Her father was an ardent and enthusiastic partner in bed. "You know Martha talked to me after she drove with you."

"I did just fine." said Bob waving a hand. "The car just has a lot more power than I'm used to." he said dismissively. "It was Martha that was the problem. She just got way too excited, that's all. And besides, Becca just had that, what do you call it? - drivers training? - not long ago. Sometimes I think you girls have forgotten most of the rules." He grinned as he said it. He loved being a backseat driver in a strange twist of tradition.

"Well for pity's sake don't try driving anywhere there is a lot of traffic. The last thing we need is for you to get arrested for driving without a license. Can you imagine what trying to explain to the Police about you would be like?"

"I promise to be careful." he said blithely.

Two hours later Becca showed up, excited enough that her grandmother thought it was odd. Why would the girl be so tickled at getting to give a driving lesson? She dismissed it though. All the women liked to spend time with Bob.

Bob never got to drive. Instead he gave instructions to Becca to go places he remembered that might be remote and private. All of them now had housing developments or strip malls on the property. So they decided to go up into the mountains to the east. A State forest provided the perfect place to get off the road and go for a little hike. Becca, thinking ahead, got a blanket out of the trunk and they set off into the woods.

They found a spot that had not only a little meadow of thick grass, but a truly amazing view of the valley below and spread the blanket out.

Both were a little nervous as they sat, side by side, initially just looking out at the lovely vista below.

"Are you all right?" asked Bob finally.

"Uh huh." said Becca, dipping her head and not looking at him.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to." he offered.

She looked at him. "I do want to." she said firmly. "I kind of miss..." her voice trailed off and she blushed. She tried to explain. "With boys I go out with it always seems tense, like something could go wrong any second. But with you I know it will be just fun."

"Hey, I kind of miss it too." he said, more to make her feel less nervous than anything else.

He decided to adopt what he perceived as a fatherly approach. He had, after all, had all the fears that any man has when a daughter is born to him. Even when they were babies Bob had dreaded the day they would come home and announce that they liked a boy, or wanted to go on a date. That's probably harder on a father before it happens than after it happens... depending on the boy.

So he began telling her what boys wanted. Well... what boys wanted when he was growing up.

It turned out things hadn't changed all that much.

She agreed that boys wanted to kiss, and to touch her breasts and to see her breasts. She knew well that their hands would wander downward to her buttocks and hip and try to get between her legs. She had always resisted that, if for no other reason than she knew she was supposed to. But everything else felt so good she just knew that that would feel good too, which was why she was now having second thoughts about keeping those hands away. She told him as much as they talked.

"Yes, sweetheart," he said patiently, "but what I'm trying to tell you is that the feelings get very intense." She looked doubtful still, so he asked her. "Haven't you ever felt like if a boy stopped doing something you'd just die?"

She thought about that for a few seconds and shook her head. "No." she said simply.

He looked at her, astonished. "You mean it's always been easy to stop?" he asked to confirm.

She looked at him and nodded. "Sure. I mean it feels nice and all that, and I like doing that, but I always tell them when it's time to stop and take me home." She frowned. "They don't want to stop, but I don't have any problem at all."

Maybe boys hadn't changed much, but it sure sounded to Bob like girls had changed. In his day when it was time to stop and take the girl home she loudly proclaimed that she didn't want to stop at all... and that was why it was time to stop and go home. Then again, this beautiful young thing was only eighteen. Bob clearly remembered what he had been like only five years ago... sort of... and he knew full well that what he had learned between being eighteen and being married for a couple of years had taught him an astonishing amount about how to really please a woman. And what he lacked then, Martha and now June were making up for by coaching him on how to make them virtually sing in bed. The only thing he had brought into the bedroom that they had never experienced was what he did with his mouth and tongue between their legs. That, oddly enough, they had never experienced. Well, maybe not so oddly, considering that their sole lover had been unconscious for the entire time they'd been making love with him, not counting the last month.

At any rate, Bob decided that he'd have to try a few things with this delightful young thing to see for himself if girls had changed so much as her comments indicated.

"Let's... reenact some of the things you've done," he suggested, "and I'll do what Phillip wants to do with you, and then you can see how you feel about it. How's that?"

Becca nodded, almost violently. She wanted to know what it was like.

"How should we start?" he asked. His new moral attitude still wasn't settled in, and he felt strange making advances toward this young girl.

"Well," she said gazing into his eyes. "Most of the time the guys just start grabbing at my boobs. But I like to kiss for a while first."

Bob made an internal grimace. Boys were always pushing the envelope. That hadn't changed either.

They started sitting up, and just leaning into each other for light, soft kisses. He gave her several and pulled back to see what she thought. Her eyes were round.

"That's really different now that you're awake." she said.

She came back for more and soon they were lying on the blanket, their bodies pressed together as the kisses got longer and wetter and hotter. He put one hand on her hip and slid it upwards, stroking her side gently. When he thought the time was about right, he let his fingers drift to her breast and she kissed him harder. They broke again.

"Is that about right?" he asked.

She nodded.

"They want to feel them under your shirt, don't they?" he asked.

"Yes." she was breathing deeper now.

"Will you take your shirt off?" he asked.

She smiled. "Not for them, but for you I will."

She sat up and unashamedly unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged out of it. Her utilitarian white bra bulged with soft skin. She reached behind her and undid the clip, shrugging her shoulders to let the cups fall and the straps slide down her arms. The bra ended up in her hand and she froze as he stared. These were young, vibrant breasts. It wasn't that Martha and June and Betty were old and baggy or anything. Quite the opposite, actually. All three women had taken pretty good care of themselves, but their breasts were heavy and gravity wins in the end. Their nipples were more well formed than Becca's, primarily because their nipples had been sucked into shape by numerous infant mouths during innumerable sessions of breast feeding. In his memory, his wife's breasts were more like these, except that they weren't as large, or heavy. Three babies had made Valerie's nipples almost constantly prominent. She bought hard, cone shaped bras that made hard perfect points in her blouses just because of those nipples. A bra looked like what it was - a bra. Anything else would have telegraphed those nipples to the world, and she didn't want to do that.

Becca's, though, had never been sucked. Her breasts were firm and round, with no hint of sag to them. They looked hard as rocks, with pink upturned nipples on them that were flat looking, like small coral-colored buttons. Bob stared at them so intently that she actually leaned back a little, anxiously.

"Are they okay?" she asked.

"They're beautiful, Becca." he said. He said it in that voice that all the women had learned was an honest compliment. It made her tingle to hear that voice.

"Are you going to touch them?" she asked. The men in her experience had to be fought off, rather than encouraged, and this was a strange situation for her.

"Oh, yes, I'm going to touch them." he said. "I'm going to touch them like the boys will want to touch them."

He lay her back down and leaned over her to take one nipple in his mouth. She wasn't prepared for the action, or the feeling, and gasped. There was a kind of almost pain, so exquisite that she couldn't breathe for a few seconds. Then as he suckled and played with the nipple she dragged in a ragged breath and let it out in a long, long sigh. He moved to the other one and began pinching the first, rolling it between his fingers, never letting up, pulling at it and then pressing it into her flesh. That flesh looked hard as a rock, but was as soft as a baby's butt. Bob realized he was the one that was rock hard.

He pulled back to find that Becca's mouth was open wide and her eyes closed tight.

"You ready for me to stop yet?" he asked.

She opened her eyes. "No! It feels better than I thought, but I'm fine. Aren't you going to do it some more?"

"I'll do some more later. Right now I want to kiss you some more."

"Okay" she agreed readily.

This time, as they kissed, he pressed for and got entry with his tongue. He slid his hand to her bare midriff and stroked her skin just above where her ovaries were, almost like he was trying to coax them into dropping an egg for him. Becca wiggled and her leg went over his. She pressed her pussy against his leg and ground it against him. Bob pushed her away and his fingers went to the button of her shorts. He fumbled, not able to get it because it buttoned backwards from how men's pants buttoned. Her hand brushed his out of the way, her lips still locked on his, and suddenly her shorts were open and unzipped.

Bob didn't wait. He slid his hand into the front of her panties. Instead of easing things along, his fingers pressed for entry and her legs parted as she lifted one knee. Bob felt sparse hair and then the beginning of her slippery slit. He pushed, forcing his hand between the cloth and her skin and slid a finger right into her pussy.

Becca was enjoying herself immensely. She was making out with a man she felt very close to, even though she'd only been able to actually have a conversation with him for just a few weeks. His kisses were much better, somehow, than those she'd gotten from her dates, and what he'd done to her breasts was just flat fabulous. She was beginning to think she should have let her dates do more with her breasts after all when he sought entry into her pants. This was what she came here for, and she impatiently helped him get access to her pussy.

Then things happened that she hadn't planned on. She'd had her own finger in her pussy on numerous occasions.

But it didn't feel like this!

Bob's finger was longer and bigger around, and when he pushed it up into her virgin pussy, he mashed her clit at the same time, digging deep inside her. She widened her legs to give him more room. She felt his finger touch something way up inside that felt tingly pain and tingly pleasure all at the same time. Suddenly his lips were gone from hers. She wanted to complain, but they went back to her nipples and what felt like electricity seemed to suddenly be shooting all through her body.

Bob's hand was trapped, more or less, by the shorts she was wearing, so he wiggled his finger inside her instead of sliding it in and out. He added a second finger and massaged her pussy lips with his thumb. Her nipples had spiked up now, and were long enough he could chew on them in between sucks. She lay back, her arms making vague motions as she flopped on the blanket. Then she went rigid and made a keening noise that Bob had no trouble interpreting at all.

Becca couldn't breathe again. Everything felt so fabulous... so wonderful... not at all like it was with the boys on her dates. Well, maybe a little like that, but way more intense. She closed her eyes tightly, just concentrating on the feelings that coursed through her young body. She felt the orgasm coming, knew what it was, even welcomed it.

Just as it hit, though, he stopped thrusting his finger into her and, instead, put three fingers on her clitty and dragged them up and then back down rapidly, causing all three fingers to squeeze and maul her clit and then do it again and again and again. Her shorts, still on, pressed his fingers tightly against her body. Her orgasm, rather than being the sweet gentle ecstasy she was used to, exploded upon her consciousness like fireworks. She went rigid all over, paralyzed temporarily and then her buttocks bounced off the blanket thrusting her hips up into the air enough that it hurt her tender buns when they fell back to the ground. She heard the sound of a puppy being beaten, yipping and whining and suddenly realized the sounds were coming from her own throat.

Becca relaxed limply on the blanket. Bob was suddenly gone and she felt her hips being lifted. She raised her head to see him taking her shorts and panties off. She was suddenly stark naked, lying on a blanket in the sunshine, surrounded by woods. Bob stood up and dropped his own clothing. She eyed his long, hard prick, comforted that it looked so familiar, but distinctly uncomfortable because he was awake and she was naked.

"What are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly. She still felt almost groggy from her orgasm.

"What you do on your dates." he smiled. "With a little twist."

He lay down beside her, except the wrong way, with his head at her hips. She rolled her head to stare right at his rigid prick. Then his hands were on her hip, pulling, rolling her onto her side. He put a hand under her as she rolled and, by force of muscle alone, lifted her until she rolled up on top his body, his face between legs. Her legs automatically spread and her knees hit the ground on either side of him. She squawked and then caught her breath in a gasp as he fastened his lips against her pussy and sucked her loose pussy lips into his mouth.

"Awwwww" she moaned, opening her mouth just as her face ended up above his jutting prick. She hesitated a few seconds, only because the feel of his tongue penetrating her sex was so overpowering, and then dropped her mouth over his cock. This was something she knew how to do very well, had learned how to do on this very penis in fact. But somehow she couldn't concentrate on sucking and licking and kissing like she was used to doing.

His lips found, sucked, and squeezed her clit and when he nibbled it with his teeth another of those devastating orgasms washed over her and she gagged on his prick as she jerked and it went clear to the back of her throat. She pushed up and off of it, grinding her pussy into his face and rubbing her hips back and forth, mashing her sex against his mouth until she almost smothered him and he had to grab her hips and move her to get a breath.

Then her world turned up side down again as he rolled her off of him and scrambled between her legs. The iron hard thing she had just had in the back of her throat was suddenly lodged firmly between the pussy lips he had just sucked and licked and he hovered over her, the tip of his prick stretching her cruelly. His panting face swayed above her own and she held her breath.

"You see?" he panted, leaning down to kiss her lips gently. "Things can happen so fast that you have no control over them." His prick didn't budge, but Becca could feel a pulsing down there, almost like a heartbeat, where his hard skin was pressed firmly against her clit.

"If I were a boy on a date, it would be inside you already." he said heavily. "You'd have lost your virginity and wouldn't have been able to do a thing about it."

The thought of that long hard thing ripping her open horrified Becca. She was intimately aware of how big and long that thing was, poised at her pussy's gates. She had had to stretch to get her mouth over it when she was younger. And now, the pressure she felt suddenly was tinged with pain. But at the same time, his body over hers, and the ecstasy she had just gone through screamed at her that if all those things had been so wonderful, surely having him inside her would be even better. She lay there panting, trying to get control of her own emotions, and her hips thrust up against the pressure of their own accord.

"You want it in you?" he growled.

"Yes." she panted. "No!... Ohhh I don't know."

Bob let his weight down and pushed a little harder. He felt flesh give way, fighting him all the way and suddenly his glans popped inside her tightly stretched pussy lips.

"AHHHHHH" she whined. Now there was pain... real pain.

Then it was gone, like magic and she realized he was getting to his knees. She lifted her head and saw his bobbing penis moving away from where that pain had been. She stared at her own pussy, expecting to see torn flesh and blood. But there were only her pink labia, gaping open just a little... and a feeling of emptiness in her loins.

Bob sat down on the blanket and leaned on one arm.

"That's what I was talking about." he said softly. "When you let things go too far, not only is it hard to stop, sometimes you can't stop even if you want to. A lot of girls get hurt that way."

She stared at the man she knew so well, but hardly knew at all.

"You put it in me!" she squeaked.

"A little." he said. "Not nearly as much as one of your dates would have."

She panted. "You took it out!"

"Of course." he smiled. "That wasn't part of the deal... was it?"

She stared at him, her mouth open. She couldn't believe how the pain had flashed to a feeling of profound emptiness. She wanted to shove her own fingers inside her to ease that feeling of emptiness.

"I don't want it out." she whined.

"Becca, sweetheart, it would have hurt you." he said.

"It did hurt me!" she said.

"See what I mean?" he grinned. "And that was only a little bit. If I'd have kept going you'd be crying right now."

Becca thought about that. Her hand slid unconsciously to her pussy and she put a finger in it, pulling it up against her clit.

"Maybe." she said, drawing out the Maaaaayyyyyy as she pulled hard. That felt good. But it didn't feel as good as she somehow knew that long hard prick three feet away from her would feel.

Bob laughed. "See what I mean? I told you things change when you play that way. You don't want to stop right now... do you?"

She knew he was right and didn't like it. She had always been in control on her dates. She played with the boys and let them give her tingles, but she always felt in control. Until now.

"I don't like you any more." she pouted.

"Need to have just one more little orgasm?" he grinned.

He moved so suddenly that she had hardly jerked before his hand pulled her fingers out of her and his mouth fastened back on her clit, his tongue licking it just before he sucked it into his mouth.

"Ohhhh shiiiiit" she groaned, letting her head flop back down on the blanket as her knees flexed, pushing against his face.

He was relentless, sucking and licking and biting at her until she shuddered and went rigid one more time. His hands went under her buttocks and welded his mouth to her sex as she came so hard she got light headed and flopped on the blanket again.

Then, as she lay limp, he pushed himself up and jacked furiously on his cock until long ropes of semen arced out and landed on her from breast to crotch.

The old Becca would have been incensed at this, but the new Becca felt the heat of that issue, landing in long stripes across her naked body and her hands went to it, rubbing it all over her skin. One messy hand slid down and rubbed at her pussy mouth and she jerked as her overly sensitive clit objected to the touch. That hand came back up and settled on one breast, slowly rubbing his spunk into the skin. The other scooped up a glob on her abdomen and brought it to her lips. She sucked her fingers clean and put her hand down for more.

Bob sat back down, gasping for breath, and looked at the naked girl spread out before him. He'd had to beat off. The urge to stick it back in her had been almost overpowering. He felt much better for not having done so, even though he'd made a terrible mess. Watching her scoop up that mess and put it in her mouth made his balls lurch one more time and a single droplet of sperm oozed out of the tip of his prick and collected in the bunched foreskin there.

Neither said anything as they caught their breath. For having shared something so intimate both felt a little odd, and unwilling to talk.

Becca eventually sat up and used one corner of the blanket to clean herself up before getting back into her clothes. Bob, when he saw her reach for her bra, got dressed too.

Neither of them said anything as he picked up the blanket and walked with her to the car. Only after it was started and moving did she turn and speak to him.

"I see what you mean." she said, smiling. "You were right. You could have done anything you wanted with me."

"I just don't want you to get hurt. Sex can be a beautiful thing, but not when someone isn't fully committed to it." he said.

She stopped the car suddenly and turned to him. "You never got to practice driving." she said, opening the door.

"No, really, that's all right." he said.

She insisted though, and he drove from there to the entrance to the park. The only problem he had was that he kept feeling the urge to shift, and that wasn't required with this car. Twice he reached for the shifter lever on the column, to have his hand slapped each time by a giggling girl.

She told him to make a turn onto a gravel road and, as the car weaved somewhat erratically from side to side... she gave him a blowjob and got a mouthful of the spunk she'd been intending to get all along.

After she'd sat back up, and swallowed happily one last time, she spoke.

"When I do decide I want more than what we did ... I might ask you for that, too."

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