The Orphanage Blues

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6-15 Available On

PLEASE NOTE: This is a preview of this novella. It is available for purchase in its entirety via

Chapter Four

Sally wasn't the only woman in the house who acted like nothing had happened.

Something HAD happened, though.

It had happened to all five women, though none of them compared notes. All five women had seen Bobby's penis and, while only two of them had seen it hard, all of them knew it could get that way. That, encouraged by all of them far underestimating his intelligence, led all of them to think about that penis a little differently than they would had they seen, say Frank, the storekeeper in town, without his pants.

Of them all, two reacted more strongly than the others. Donna had wanted more children after Wally was born, but they waited until he was four or five to try again, and by then it was too late. By the time he tried making another baby, his fading ability had left him impotent for the most part. Donna had been able, for a year or two, to use her mouth on him and get him hard enough to penetrate her, but he never stayed hard ehough to bring her to orgasm. So she was not only pining for more children, she was unsatisfied, and had to learn to use her fingers. That night, as she stroked her clit, lying in bed, she thought back on her life, and the life of the only man who'd claimed her sexually.

Walter, being from the old school, thought that sex was something you did to make babies, and it wasn't for fun, even though, of course, it was fun. He'd worked the farm he inherited from his father at the tender age of twenty, and he had to work hard to make it go ... much too hard to waste time on girls. The life of a bachelor farmer came easily to him, because he had no time to dwell on it. It had been on a winter's night a lot like this one, when it was too cold to do anything outside, and all the inside work had been done, and all his books had been read for the tenth or eleventh time, that his thoughts had drifted to what it might be like to have a warm woman in bed with him. With a start of horror, as if awakening from a dream, he realized he was fifty years old and had nothing to show for his life. The farm supported him, but he had no one to pass it on to.

Walter Pratt had gone wife hunting the very next day, January the first, nineteen twenty-eight. It was almost ridiculously easy. He went to a church social, New Year's Day being on a Sunday that year, and talked to the only woman who wasn't accompanied by a man, and who was over the age of sixteen. Walter knew he had no business marrying a girl, even though that was perfectly honorable in those days. He wanted a woman who knew how to love a man, and who wouldn't kill him while he was between her legs.

Donna, at the time, was considered a spinster. She was twenty-three, and every time her parents tried to get her married off she did whatever it took to spoil the plan. The problem was that Donna had gone to finishing school, where she met interesting men, but had no urge to marry any of them. When she went back home she was one of the best educated women in town, but it didn't do her a bit of good. The only jobs available for women were cleaning, and laundry, or being the servants of the rich folk, none of which appealed to her. She was stubborn, and it cost her. Eventually she got work as a nanny, which was fine, as far as that went, until the man of the house wanted to make more babies for her to care for ... and not necessarily with his wife. She had stalked out of the house after slapping the man, abandoning her job in the process.

That had been on December the thirty-first, the night before she met Walter Pratt.

She talked to Walter because she was bored, but soon found him to be a fascinating man. He was well read and intelligent, if a little shy, but she found his shyness engaging too. They had talked for two hours, sharing bits and pieces of their lives and dreams and disappointments and, at his leave-taking, when he abruptly suggested that he needed a wife, and she needed a husband, and a place to lay her weary head, she blinked twice at his effrontery and heard herself say that she would consider his proposal most closely.

When she thought about it, it made more sense to her than she wished it did. It provided for her. He was a decent man. He'd die first, of course, but that left the farm in her name. And if they could have children, like both of them wanted to, she and her children could work the land. She didn't think she'd be able to love him, but then one didn't always marry for love. The only reason she could think of not to do it was because there would then be no hope for excitement in her life.

She had accepted his proposal and they were married by Valentines Day.

To her surprise she HAD learned to love him. He was a good man, and sweet and sensitive. She worked hard - what she was able to do - but it was good work and it kept her from getting fat on her own cooking. His was horrible. And she had loved being pregnant. Knowing that life stirred in her womb had made her feel complete. Raising Tommy had made her happy, even when Walter began to be unable to please her in bed. Now Tommy was off in the war, and might be killed, and she had felt empty ever since he left. She knew she shouldn't feel that way. She had done good things in her life, and it hadn't been for nothing. Still, she yearned in her heart of hearts for more babies to raise and love ... to keep her company in her old age.

When Mavis had changed from a boarding house to an orphanage, it was as though she had been given a chance to do what she loved most ... care for children. Now, as she rubbed her tortured clit, reaching for an orgasm, she felt pangs of guilt. She wasn't thinking of her dead husband's penis. What she envisioned in her mind could only be that of a much younger, more virile man.

A man like Bobby.

Prudence had been exposed to a lot of sex by her husband before he left for the war, but his skill had been non existent. He climbed on her, shot his wad, and climbed off, not caring whether she had reached her peak or not. She, too, had wanted a child. She, too, had had to learn to satisfy herself with her fingers.

Prudence lay in her own bed, in her own house, her fingers stuck firmly in her empty pussy as she writhed under the covers. Her orgasm came quickly. She was a hot blooded woman and, if she had the right fantasy in her mind she could cum quickly and often, for as long as she chose to keep making herself do it.

That was a hollow victory, though, because there was nothing like the real thing, as far as Prudence was concerned. She was miserable, even though she had cum twice, thinking about Bobby. Her husband had left her, or was going to leave her ... she didn't actually know what her status was. She assumed that there would have to be some papers to sign or something legal that she'd either have to do, or that would be delivered to her after it had been done, or something. She did know that Private Watson was still paying the rent, or having it paid, because the landlord hadn't kicked her out yet.

Mavis had offered to let her live in the Milleson House, but she resisted that. It wasn't because of the women - she liked them all - and it wasn't because of the children - she loved them. Rather it was because if she moved in with them she'd have to admit that it was over ... that another woman had taken her man ... that she wasn't even desirable enough to come home to.

Now she thought about her marriage, and the possibility that she'd have to move, and the possibility that she'd never have children. Men didn't want to marry a divorced woman. There were a lot of things men DID want to do with a divorced woman ... but marriage wasn't one of them. She had gotten married to be able to have children. Working with the poor things at Mavis' house was fine - she loved that - but she wanted her own children so much it hurt. She had assumed, when she came to work for Mavis, that all the children were orphaned by disease, or accident, or perhaps, in the odd circumstance, crime. She was horrified to find out that a lot of women didn't want their children in the first place, and simply abandoned them to die. She didn't understand any woman who would give up a precious baby, much less let it die for lack of caring. She was quite sure she could commit murder on such a woman. All the children that they cared for at Milleson House deserved loving parents. Even poor Bobby.

Thinking of Bobby made her remember why she'd needed to stroke herself when she got home. He was really quite a handsome boy, now that he had a little meat on his bones. His smile was gorgeous, rare as it was, and his tenderness with June Bug and Emily had brought tears to her eyes. She remembered that dangling penis he was so unconcerned about as he stood, naked, in front of five grown women.

She began rubbing again. This time she was going to cum until she was too tired to stay awake.

Back in Milleson House Mavis lay with her eyes tightly closed, the vision of Bobby's penis clear in her mind's eye. She'd almost forgotten what an adult phallus looked like. Her hand stole to the joining of her legs. It had done that three times before, and she'd always jerked it back, ashamed that she wanted to pervert herself. At last, though, she couldn't stand it any more. With a groan of mingled frustration, satisfaction and shame, she pulled her night dress up and splayed her legs open. She was already slippery and wet.

The other two women in Milleson house lay in their beds too, their eyes wide open and staring at the unseen ceiling. Meg pinched her nipples, but couldn't bring herself to masturbate. She knew some women did that, but she couldn't picture herself as one of them. She had pride. She was stronger than those other women.

In reality, though she didn't know it, she was only more frustrated than those other women. That frustration, and the image of Bobby's erect penis, shooting long streams of semen ... kept her awake most of the night, tossing and turning.

As for Sally, it was all so new to her that she just lay there thinking about what she had seen, and how things had felt, and all the new things she'd experienced. She was excited in the same way a scientist is excited when he's on the verge of a discovery. She didn't know what to expect, or what would happen, but she knew it would be interesting. Sally's dull, gray life had been boring for as long as she could remember. Interesting was so much more ... interesting.

Bobby had lain in his warm bed, in this amazing house, with its fantastic practices, and had just relaxed. Relaxing was not something Bobby had much experience at, and it felt almost decadent. He felt twinges of conscience at fooling the women, all of whom were so nice that he was sure now that some kind of mistake had been made. No one he knew would have intentionally sent him to this wonderful place. It was too late to just yell "Surprise!" and laugh at the big joke. He knew, beyond any doubt, that their feelings would be hurt. They'd find out he wasn't simple-minded ... that he could read just as well as Meg and Donna did ... that he was perfectly capable of taking his own bath.

He thought about the baths. He hadn't counted on that happening, but he was glad it had. The feel of Meg's hands on his skin - everywhere, not just on his cock - was almost indescribably wonderful. He'd cut out his own tongue if it ensured that Meg would bathe him for the next year or two.

Then he thought about the feeling in is cock when it had squirted. He'd thought something was wrong with him at first. The pain had come on him like a rushing freight train and had stabbed directly through his penis and into his aching balls. Her hand moving had caused that pain. He knew that now. And then the pain in his balls had reversed and come back out his dick as the most intense pleasure he had ever felt.

Ecstasy is something a lot of people feel rarely. It has a lot of definitions, but ecstacy, in this case, was the sudden experience of unanticipated joy. That's rare, in the sense that we have expectations of joy usually. We plan for it, and reach for it, and when it arrives it is expected. That's fine, but when it's UN-expected, the feeling can be overpowering. Not only Bobby, but Meg too had experienced ecstasy that night.

Somehow, he knew that if he rubbed his own cock, he could make that feeling come back.

But he didn't.

That was saved for Meg to do. If she refused to do it again, then he'd do it for himself. But only if she refused.

His relaxation ended abruptly and violently as a piercing scream cut the air in the dark, quiet house. Patrick screamed again, a wailing, horrified, blood curdling scream and Bobby bolted up out of bed. He dashed out into the hall and down to the second floor, where he threw the door open, expecting to find someone beating the daylights out of poor Patrick.

Bobby's eyes had become accustomed to the dark. What he found was Patrick, eyes wide open, tears running down his face, leaning against the iron bedstead with the covers pulled up to his chin. His roommate, Terrence sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Patrick was babbling and, when he saw Bobby, his hand jerked forward and he pointed to the closet door in the corner of the room. In the darkness Bobby saw something move on the face of the door. He realized instantly that what he was seeing was moonlight, bouncing off the snow, and being broken up by tree branches moving in the wind outside. He moved to the window and closed the curtains, just as Sally and Meg came running into the room, panting from their dash up the stairs. Meg had a kerosene lamp in her hand.

"What's WRONG?" she shouted, elevating tensions in the room just by her own tense reaction.

"The Umpelty Oog!" squealed Patrick. "The Umpelty Oog!" he screamed.

Meg stared and looked upward, slumping. Sally sighed at the same time. Mavis came puffing up the hallway, asking what was wrong.

Meg moaned. "Patrick says he saw the Umpelty Oog." She turned, angry now that she'd been pulled out of bed for this. "Patrick, how many times have I TOLD you there IS NO SUCH THING as the Umpelty Oog!"

Patrick cried now. "But I SAW him" he pleaded. "I saw him!"

Jenny, Emily and June Bug appeared in the open door, huddling together. Their room was right next door to this one. They looked terrified too.

Bobby recognized the women doing what all adults did ... ignore children's fears and concerns. He'd always thought adults just didn't care, but he couldn't think that about these women. They had shown him too many times that they were different. He'd seen what had convinced Patrick that something was moving in the corner, so he understood that Patrick could believe in the imaginary beast. And he knew that if they all just left, Patrick would still believe that he was in danger.

Bobby slapped the closet door with the flat of his hand. The boom startled even him.

"What?!" cried Mavis and Sally.

Bobby put one finger up to his lips, in the universal signal to be quiet. Then he tiptoed over to Meg and took her hand, pulling her toward the closet. She resisted at first, but then curiosity overcame her unhappiness at being jerked from her warm bed - even though she couldn't sleep - for this nonsense.

When he got her to the closet door, Bobby began a series of pantomimes that included taking a deep breath and then opening his mouth widely. He took her hand and traced the letters "S-C-R-E-A-M" into them and then pointed at her.

"You want me to yell?" she asked.

Bobby nodded and then went through the whole plan one last time. He would jerk the door open and she would scream.

Her eyes got wide.

She whispered "You want me to scare the Umpelty Oog away?"

Bobby nodded again.

Meg smiled widely. She stood up and turned around. Everyone in the room was watching them like they were monkeys in the zoo.

Bobby and I are going to scare the Umpelty Oog away. Cover your ears please," she said smoothly.

Of course nobody covered their ears. But they should have. When Bobby jerked the door open Meg let out all her pent up passion and frustration in a blood curdling scream that, had it been summer, with the windows open, would have brought men running from four houses over. Bobby slapped the closet door three or four times and then slammed it closed. Then they turned to see what their audience thought.

Mavis had one hand over her heart, and the other over her mouth. Sally had both hands over her mouth. Patrick and Terrence both sat, their eyes round as saucers, their mouths wide open, and their hands gripping their covers.

Mavis snorted and then bit her tongue to keep from laughing. She went to the bed and urged Patrick to lie back down. Then she tucked him in securely.

"Well, if I were the Umpelty Oog I surely wouldn't want to stick around here ... not with Meg screaming at me like that. And I bet he's afraid of Bobby too. He's used to little boys and Bobby just plain scared him away, don't you think so?" Patrick's saucer eyes blinked and he nodded hopefully.

"Of course he did. Now you just go to sleep. I don't think the Umpelty Oog will be back to bother you again tonight."

Everyone filed out. In the hallway, Meg had an excuse to hug Bobby again, this time with only a thin night dress ... well, two of them, his and hers ... but both thin ... between them. She kissed his cheek warmly as her unfettered breasts pressed against his chest. "Thank you Bobby," she said. "That was just brilliant."

Bobby held on, feeling the heat of her breasts coming through the cloth between them. She let go of him before his prick could become fully erect and push into her.

Then everybody went back to bed.

For Bobby and Meg, things were very much like they had been before the excitement.

The next day Bobby made some preparations for future events. With all the snow on the ground, it was difficult, but he finally found a suitable stick, of suitable thickness, that made a satisfying and loud snapping sound as he broke it across his knee. Based on what he'd heard, he smuggled two lengths of the stick into the house, hiding one in Patrick and Terrence's closet and the other in the room that held Jenny, Emily and June Bug.

Then he went about his normal chores, filling coal buckets, clearing the walk of blown snow and playing with the children. Donna called to him to come with her for the marketing and he put on his coat, boots and the ridiculous but warm hat he now owned. He followed Donna to the Dry Goods store and she loaded him up.

"Bobby, you wait outside," she said. "I want to talk to Mister Robinson privately."

It was while Bobby was outside that he overheard two women talking about how school would be starting up again the next day. His spirits sank.

Donna came out and hustled back home, clutching her purse, which consisted of an ornate cloth bag with a drawstring that kept it closed, and which she could loop around her wrist. Bobby trudged along behind her and, when they got back home, into the dining room, dumped all the parcels he had carried onto the table. He automatically started putting things away, while Donna called all the women together and they huddled. He heard exclamations and clapping and then Mavis called to him.

"Bobby, would you come in here please?"

He went and found all five women standing in a semi-circle, smiling at him. Mavis had something in her hand.

"Bobby, what you did last night was a fine thing ... a caring thing ... and we all felt like you should be rewarded. This is for you."

She held out her hand and opened it. In it was a brand new pocket knife. Bobby couldn't believe his eyes. It was beautiful, with a dark wooden handle. He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

"Go on ... take it," urged Mavis, moving her hand closer to him. "Now you can finish your carving."

Bobby picked up the knife reverently. In etched letters on a brass plate were the words "Old Timer". It had two blades. One blade was short, with a blunt tip, while the other was longer and very sharp at the tip. He dragged the edge of the blade across one fingertip crosswise, and felt the keen edge dig into his skin. It was fabulously sharp. Tears welled up in his eyes. No one had ever given him a present before this. He was suddenly ashamed of his tears, and wiped at his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the knife.

Quite suddenly he was surrounded by women, who were also crying and smiling at the same time. That morphed into a big hug, with all of them trying to hug him and each other at the same time. He put his arms around as many of them as he could.

"What are you doing?" piped a young voice.

The women either turned, or looked over their shoulders to see Terrence standing alone, looking curiously at the group of crying people.

It just so happened that Meg was on Bobby's right in the group, where his arms had gone around them. And, it so happened that, when she heard Terrence, she turned to face him. It was coincidence that she both turned outward from the group, rather than inward. And it was a further coincidence that Bobby's right hand, the one that wasn't holding the knife, was at the same level as Meg's breasts.

The result of so many coincidences was that Bobby's hand ended up filled with soft breasts. His hand slid across one mound and then landed on the other before the woman realized what was happening. She inadvertently froze at just the time that her right breast filled his hand. That hand just naturally flexed to cup what was in it.

Meg's face flamed and she made herself move, astonished to find that she didn't want to. That hand cupping her breast felt nice in a way that she was completely unprepared for.

Mavis had turned in the same direction and, though she hadn't seen what happened, she saw Meg's pink flush.

"Whatever is wrong with you?" she asked, reaching up to cup Meg's chin in her hands and looking at both sides of her face. Bobby's hand had dropped to his side by now.

"Is it hot in here?" Meg asked nervously.

The group broke up to tend to children in various places around the house, leaving Bobby to examine his new knife. He went immediately to his gunny sack, which he still kept under the bed in his room, and removed the lump of wood that was only partly finished. Then he took it to a chair beside the coal stove, sat, and began working on it. His new knife was much sharper than the one that had been taken from him, and the carving proceeded quickly.

No one bothered him, and by suppertime the dog was almost complete. It sat, on its haunches, head tilted, one ear up, tongue lolling. It was beautiful. All the women examined it closely, praising Bobby's uncanny skill at giving life to the dead wood.

Because school was to start up again the next day, an extra bath night was thrown into the schedule.

This particular night, both June Bug and Emily were in the group that remained to listen to the story while the others were taken for baths. There was immediately competition between the two as both tried to climb up on his lap at the same time. He solved that problem by putting one on each thigh and wrapping his arms around them. His eyes met Meg's and, again, he saw that glint in her eye that went with a look on her face that he usually didn't see.

They got through another fifteen pages of Alice's adventures. When June Bug and Emily were taken off to bathe, and Bobby's lap was unencumbered, he got down on the floor and helped dry and clothe the naked children from the first shift. It was eerily silent, as it always was when Meg was reading. The children stood, rapt, their attention concentrated on Meg's voice as their arms were lifted and night clothes were placed on their unresisting bodies.

That silence vanished, of course, when Meg closed the book. There were cries of "More ... read some more" and "Not yet".

June bug and Emily, who were roommates, came to Bobby and each took a hand, dragging him to their room on the second floor.

"We want you to tuck us in," piped Emily. Jenny stood nearby nodding.

Prudence looked at Donna. They usually took the second floor girls at bedtime. Donna shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "Looks like somebody has some new girlfriends," she said softly.

Meg called out. "Hurry back Bobby, you have to take a bath too."

"You need any help with him tonight?" asked Prudence, giggling.

Mavis snorted. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Pru!"

Prudence laughed. "Why Mavis, whatever do you mean? Surely you don't think that just because the man I used to have has been gone for two years, and probably isn't coming back, that I'm on the prowl for a replacement."

Mavis smiled. "You can't fool me Pru. I know exactly what you were thinking."

"Mavis!" laughed Prudence. "I'm shocked!" She got a sly look on her face. "And, based on what you just said, YOU are thinking exactly the same thing!"

Meg, who had indeed been re-evaluating her stand on a few things, didn't like the way the conversation was going, put a frown on her face. "I certainly do NOT need any help with the poor boy. Especially from two hussies who can't control their thoughts!"

Donna laughed out loud. "Make that THREE hussies, Meg. Don't forget poor little me."

Meg felt guilty, because if she did what she wanted to do tonight, she'd be a much worse hussy than any of them. But she relaxed as they went on with their normal routine.

Bobby bounced back down the stairs and stood beside Meg, docile while she finished diapering the baby and then handed him to Sally, who had the toddler on her other hip. Mavis came and took the baby so that Sally could hold four year old Johnny's hand as they went up to the room those three were in.

Meg turned to Bobby. "Are you ready?" she asked.

He nodded, with just the hint of a smile on his face. He could feel his penis getting stiff already.

This time Bobby undressed himself, while Meg set about filling the tub. She was already nervous when she turned around to look at him. Her eyes widened as she saw him standing placidly, his erect phallus pointing at her. Her eyes darted to the door, and the skeleton key that hung on a nail high up on the door jamb. She looked back at Bobby's rampant prick and the tingle that went through her made her move. She went to the door, got the key and carefully inserted it in the lock, turning it until it clicked. Then she replaced the key on the nail and turned around. Her hands unconsciously went to cover her abdomen.

"Bobby?" she said.

He looked at her.

"I thought that ... um what with my dress getting all wet last time that ... if I um ... took it off, it wouldn't get wet and I wouldn't have to go change when we're done," she finished in a rush.

He stared at her. Had she been closer to him she might have seen his pupils dilate. She also didn't notice his prick angle up slightly more than level.

"Is that all right?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Bobby didn't know what to do. Just the thought of her without her dress on made his balls and penis feel almost like it had when it squirted. He had the urge to grab his cock and squeeze it, but controlled himself. He didn't think that would be the right thing to do right now. For lack of anything else to do he nodded.

Meg fiddled nervously with the buttons on the front of her dress. "Have you ever seen a woman ... naked?" she asked.

Bobby had no trouble shaking his head. It just came naturally. His cock moved upward even more, beginning to point at her face now.

"This is only so I don't ruin my dress," she said, trying to convince herself.

When Bobby just kept standing there Meg took a breath and began unbuttoning the bodice of her dress. She wasn't wearing a bra tonight. The stiff fabric parted to expose creamy white skin. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his as she pushed one shoulder, and then the other off, and the dress slid down, catching on the swell of her hips. She had to fight her arms to keep them from covering her breasts. Bobby's mouth dropped open, his eyes riveted to her naked chest. Taking another breath Meg pushed the dress down and it fell in a pool around her ankles. She suddenly knew that, when she took her panties off, they'd be damp. Bobby's docile attitude actually fed her confidence and she stepped out of her dress, hung it up on another nail, and then bent quickly to pulled her panties down and off. When she stood, she was naked for the first time in her life in front of a man. Her hands fluttered at her waist, wanting to cover her groin and her breasts. She fought that urge too.

"Let's g-g-get you in the tub," she croaked.

Ecstasy, that unexpected intense joy, can change the way you look at the world. It had changed Meg. She had already done something that, a month ago she'd have slapped a man for suggesting she do. Now she was naked, something else that was unchacteristic for her.

Meg had decided that she had to feel his skin against hers. She had dreamed of it and fantasized about it and the need to feel him against her had grown until she felt like she might burst. The tub was easily large enough for two - they put four children in it at the same time with no problem. She helped him step into the tub and then stepped in with him, the warm water rising to her calves.

"N-n-now you sit down and I'll wash your back," she said, breathlessly.

When he sat she did too, extending her legs beside him so that he sat between them, with his back only inches away. She reached up and grabbed the soap and began to wash his back with her hands. Now, besides feeling the ridges left by repeated assaults on him, she could see them too. Her emotions, already stretched to the breaking point, flooded out and she sobbed twice before being able to control her voice. The last thing she needed was for someone to come knocking at that door wanting to know who was crying and why. And then wanting to know why the door was locked.

Her arms went around him and she pulled him back against her, her hands smoothing along his chest.

For Bobby, the feel of her hands, replaced by her soft breasts pressing into his back, almost made him cum. He concentrated on the feel of her fingers as they swept across his nipples, stopping momentarily to explore them. He heard her sob and didn't understand how anybody could be unhappy in this situation. He turned, his eyebrows raised and caught himself just as he was about to ask what was wrong. Her face was right there, by his cheek as he turned his upper body. He remembered how good her kiss had felt. If he kissed her would it make her feel good too? Her wide eyes stared into his as she panted. He twisted a little more, leaning back against the side of the tub and her arm raised to go around his neck.

Bobby leaned forward to touch his lips to hers.

Meg had only thought about the feel of his skin on hers. There was a cloud of misty thoughts beyond that, but they were formless and drifting. Now, with his face so close to hers ... his lips just inches away ... she didn't know what to do. When he kissed her, her mind exploded into stars and she needed to touch herself, like she wouldn't let herself do in the dark of night in her bed. She couldn't reach her pussy, though, because his hip was digging into it.

Instead she reached for his prick.

The kiss electrified both of them and they ground their lips together, their tongues clashing as their mouths opened. His hand came up to reach for her face, but he couldn't quite reach it. It settled on her breast again, his fingers naturally gravitating to her nipple. His fingers, just as naturally, explored that turgid bump, as hers had his own, and that one little squeeze brought Meg off like a bomb. She had not thought to have an orgasm ... only to feel his skin ... and her loins exploded where his hip pressed against her clit, ecstasy blowing her mind clear of all thought for a few seconds. Her hand gripped his shaft so hard that he grunted and she immediately let go, unable to concentrate on what was happening in her body and tend to his at the same time. Her own groan of release she managed to keep in, except for the sound that she let loose into his open mouth.

Meg slumped back against the back of the tub, eyes closed, weak from her experience. Bobby twisted more, nervous that something had happened to her, and gave a sigh of relief as she opened her eyes.

Her head lolled and she looked at the door. Suddenly realizing it was locked, and had been locked for quite a while, she surged upward, pushing Bobby to the front of the tub.

"You stay right there until I get things back to normal," she whispered. She stepped out of the tub, running a towel over her body and stepping back into her dress. She hurriedly buttoned the front, checked her hair in the mirror - she had put it into a bun so it wouldn't get wet - and smoothed the dress over her hips. Then she turned back to Bobby, who had watched her interestedly.

"Now you," she said huskily.

He stood up in anticipation.

She got to her knees as he bent backwards slightly, presenting his dripping rod to her. This was something else Meg had thought about. His taste had fascinated her the last time, and she had thought of a way to make sure that he didn't make a mess when he squirted this time.

She reached out and grasped his firm rod lightly in her hand. Then she leaned forward and slid her lips over the head of his prick.

Bobby had been excited ever since he saw her naked body revealed. Like her, the feel of skin on skin had brought him close to release. If she'd have left her hand on him a moment longer he would have spurted in the water. Now, as he felt his cock head engulfed in her hot mouth, he exploded, ecstacy once again flooding his mind until he couldn't think. Her other hand came up to cup his balls, and while her fingers missed the first jerk, they felt the next three as he leaned even further backward and groaned. Her mouth filled with thick fluid and Meg gulped instinctively to keep it from filling her mouth too much. After she felt the third jet she sucked, sliding her lips further up his spurting pole and then back again. She pulled off of him and swirled his cum around in her mouth, running her tongue along her teeth ... tasting him again.

He was, she decided, delicious. His prick began to flag, to settle and grow smaller. A bubble of that delicious fluid seeped out of the little hole and she sucked at the tip, letting her fingers milk him for the last drops.

Her knees ached, and that woke her to the task at hand. She got him out of the tub and, out of habit, dried him off. She couldn't resist bending over and sucking at his limp penis one last time, to make sure, she told herself, that nothing dripped out of it that would alert the others. She planned again to take him out into the dining room naked ... to re-enforce in the minds of the women that he was just a boy ... whose penis probably didn't get stiff at all.

Last, before they left, she embraced him and kissed him deeply.

"Thank you Bobby," she whispered in his ear. "You made me very happy."

Bobby felt the urge to kiss her neck, and he did so, tasting her skin. She shuddered and pushed him away.

"You must never do that when the others can see," she said. "They'd make us stop if they knew. I don't want to stop, Bobby. You won't ... will you?"

Bobby, again, had no trouble shaking his head.

In one frame of reference, though he didn't know it, Bobby had just arrived at level three of Mr. Maslow's pyramid. Someone had honest feelings of love for him.

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>