Fooling Around 101 - Version Bravo

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Chapter Seven

It would have been easy to stay in her bed. She'd have let me. She'd have let me fuck her too. But somebody had to be the adult. I imagine there were a few snorts out there, just now, at me characterizing myself as being "adult" in this situation. Those people would say it wasn't adult of me to do anything at all with a fifteen-year-old girl, and then do more with a sixteen-year-old girl, and then keep doing more and more while she was seventeen until I fucked her. "Ludicrous" is a word they may be bandying about at this moment.

But let's look at the biology of things. Mother Nature doesn't give a flying fuck that American culture has decided that fifteen is too young for a girl to get involved in sex. We humans have always thought we could beat nature at her game. But she's been playing that game for millions of years, and a hundred thousand or so of those years she played with humans. So what's really ludicrous is that we still think we can just ignore nature's rules. We even have the temerity to think that little old us can alter the whole planet's climate, when the fossil record clearly shows that exactly what's happening today has happened four or five times in the past.

But I digress. This isn't a debate about whether science and nature can co-exist (which question also seems a bit ludicrous on the face of it, since nature is science in motion) but rather, the question is: "Should we do what other people think is best, or what we, as individuals, think would result in the most happiness?"

I thought the most happiness would result if I didn't get Cindy pregnant. So I left her bed, and went to sleep in Dennis' bed instead.

The next morning was a bit odd. I got up and checked on Jill, who was still asleep, probably because of the pain killers she still had to take every four hours. Then I fiddled around in the kitchen, getting something ready for her to eat, when she woke up.

Cindy came in, dressed for school, gave me a very routine lover's kiss, drank a glass of milk, grabbed a banana, said she loved me, and left for school. It was so routine that it bothered me. Cindy and I were lovers, pure and simple. Gone was the teacher/student relationship. And as much as I hated casual affairs, it seemed as if I was in one. I loved her ... sure ... and she loved me too ... but it wasn't going anywhere. It couldn't. They frown on incest pretty much everywhere.

I checked on Jill again, and she was awake. I carried her to the bathroom, and this time gave her some privacy. It's hard to feel romantic in the morning, when your hair's a mess, and your breath stinks, and last night's sweat is still clammy on your skin. And I swear it was just that feeling that made me offer to give her a bath. She had mentioned wanting her hair washed, so I just offered to do the whole tamale as I carried her back to bed. Maybe since she was already naked, that helped break down any natural barriers.

"I will take you up on your kind offer, sir," she said, somewhat formally. Maybe that helped make it seem less bizarre that she was asking her brother-in-law to tend to her naked needs.

Again, perhaps because I felt a bit disheveled myself, I took a shower and combed my hair and brushed my teeth before I gathered up the things I thought I might need to make Jill feel better. It wasn't much. The only actual sponge I could find was under the sink, and I wasn't wild about using that on her skin, so I got a clean washcloth, and a big mixing bowl. Hot, water and a dash of soap went into the bowl. I wasn't going to try to wash and rinse both. I had no idea how I was going to wash her hair, and when I asked her she said that could be later, and she'd tell me what to do.

Finally the time came where I was standing beside the bed. The thermostat was turned up so she'd be comfortable, but that made me hot, so all I had on was sports shorts and a T shirt. Now that I felt better, she somehow looked better. There was a comb on the bedside table and she'd used it. It was her strong arm that was broken, so her hair looked different, because she'd had to comb it differently, but she looked very good, lying there naked. I felt a twitch in my shorts, but she couldn't see it, so I didn't worry about that.

"You're looking at me again," she said.

"You want me to try this with my eyes closed?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.

She laughed. "No. I'm just wondering if that's how you look at my daughter ... when she's naked."

"Oh," I said, feeling my face get hot.

"Plus I'm surprised at how I feel about all this."

"All this?"

"This sponge bath thing," she said.

"You don't have to do it," I said. "You can wait until Cindy gets home, if you would prefer."

"I don't know what I'd prefer. That's what's so interesting. Let's just give this a try and see what happens."

I started at her collar bones. Don't ask me why. She lay there, looking at my face as I moved the warm, damp cloth across her upper chest. She closed her eyes briefly, and I realized her face needed washing too.

"Keep your eyes closed," I said. I dipped the cloth and wrung it out, and then moved it across her forehead, then down over her eyes and along both sides of her nose, and finally doing her cheeks and chin.

"Feels nice," she sighed.

I did her upper chest again, contemplating that I'd have to touch her breasts sooner or later. Doing her arms delayed that a bit. I paid extra attention to her fingers, cleaning each one individually. Then I did her sides.

I realized that the feeling inside me was like what I used to experience on Christmas morning, when I always got up before my parents did, and sat in front of the tree, just anticipating the joys to come. That anticipation was almost better than actually opening the presents.

Her eyes were open again, and again pinned to my own. When I glanced at her breasts, I knew she knew where I was looking. I realized my cock was half hard.

"I'm going to have to touch your breasts," I said, softly.

"I know," she replied, her gaze never breaking.

"I guess it's time to do that now," I said.

"All right," she said.

I had been looking at them. They sagged, somewhat, having rolled toward her sides, leaving wide cleavage between them. But they were still firm enough to stand off of her chest. As I looked at it, the nipple on her left breast became crisper, and swelled slightly. My mind interpreted that as a sign that she actually wanted her breasts touched, whether she could ever admit that or not.

I dipped and wrung the cloth again, and spread it out on the upper slope of her left breast. Using the flat of my hand, I moved the cloth around the breast in a circle, and then over the tip. She made a sound, deep in her throat, and closed her eyes again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I haven't been touched like that in a long time."

"I hope I'm not hurting you," I said.

Her barked laugh was loud in the stillness. "Don't try to tell me Cindy didn't make that same noise, the first time you gave her nipples some attention."

That settled the problem of whether I had caused her pain or not. Now all that remained was trying to figure out if those feelings were welcome ... or not.

"Shall I go on?" I asked.

"Please." There was a faint note of pleading in her voice.

I did her other breast the same way. She left her eyes closed, but didn't make any noises. Even with the warmth of the water, though, her nipple popped up in ways that made my mouth water.

I was mostly hard in my shorts, now.

I did her ribs, but when I went over her abdomen, she gasped and her belly sucked in so far that I could actually see the lumps made by the organs under it.

"Sorry," she said. "That tickles ... I think."

Then I was doing her hips, and the tips of her iliac crest, and her stubbly mound, and those fleshy labia were right there in front of me.

Again, I delayed, unsure of myself. I did her hips and thighs and legs.

"You want another foot rub?" I asked.

"No," she said, and I realized she was panting. Her eyes were tightly closed now.

When I took the cloth away from her foot, she pulled that foot up and bent her knee. It moved her thighs apart and opened her up.

The permission was obvious.

I thought about asking her how well she wanted to be cleaned, down there, and then I realized how stupid that would sound.

Almost carefully, I dipped the cloth and wrung it out again. I laid it on her mound first. She sucked in air. I pushed it down, letting the cloth spread her lips, except that didn't work. Her hips jerked. I reached with my left hand and pulled her lips apart. As the cloth cleaned her there, and scraped across her clit, I saw it bulge, and actually saw the head protrude from its protective sheath. She gasped again.

"Sorry," I said, automatically. Again, I got that barking laugh.

I wanted to suck that clit. I was rock hard now. But I felt bad. So I didn't.

Instead, I gave the whole area a circular scrub, and pulled the cloth back up over the stubble on her mound. It occurred to me that that must be uncomfortable, if she was used to being shaved.

"Would you like to have that stubble removed?" I asked.

Her barking laugh had the additional component of a sob in it.

"I don't know if I could take that," she panted.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," I said.

Finally she opened her eyes.

"Don't tease me, Bob. This is hard enough as it is."

"I wasn't trying to tease you," I said.

She stared at me, blinking a few times.

"I feel much better now. But all this ... activity ... has worn me out, I think. I need to take a pill and try to sleep. We can do my hair later, all right?"

"Absolutely," I said.

I pulled the sheet over her, watched her take the pill, and left to go take care of the monster in my shorts.

She slept for three hours. When she woke I went in and, on a whim, read to her from the book I had found on the bookshelf in the boys' room. It was Robinson Crusoe. She hadn't read it since she was a girl, and neither had I. I spent almost an hour reading, and then it was time to take her to the bathroom again.

"While we're in there, we may as well tackle my hair," she said. I asked her how we were going to do that. She said she had a plan.

Her plan was awkward, but worked, in the end. She got on her knees, bending over, letting her hair fall into the tub. The arm in the cast she propped up on the tub to her right. The other hand she used to stabilize herself, by putting it on the floor of the tub. Thankfully, they had one of those hoses, with a handle on the end that has a selection of kinds of jets.

That left me standing there, looking at what, for all the world, appeared to be a woman waiting to be mounted from behind.

The hard part was that there was no comfortable way for me to reach her hair, unless I was inside the tub too. But I was barefoot, and had on shorts anyway, so I just got in the tub and commenced to work on her hair.

It turns out there's a right and wrong way to wash hair. Go figure. When I wash mine, I just put shampoo in my hands and then rub them all over my head. You can't do that with long hair. It tangles it up too much. And her hair was quite long, normally going halfway down her back. For that, you have to put your hands on either side of a hanging hank of hair and roll it gently, like you were making pretend cigars out of clay or something.

And that takes a long time.

And bending over all that time didn't feel good, or put me in the right position to do all that rolling.

So I had to squat.

Which got my shorts soaked, while I had a nice view of her hanging, soapy breasts, tipped with brown, suckable nipples.

Well, you know what happened.

And this time, when her hair was done, and she finally stood up on her knees, with her dripping hair falling down over her breasts, the state of my penis was impossible to hide. The wet cloth of my shorts was molded to the rigid length of my manhood.

"Oh my," she said, her voice high, as she stared at the front of my shorts.

"Turns out that washing your hair is kind of fun, I guess," I said, lamely.

"I need to be dried off," she said.

"Let me get out and get a towel," I said.

"You'll drip all over the floor," she pointed out.

"I'll clean it up," I said.

"Why don't you just leave the wet shorts in the tub," she suggested.

"Now who's teasing?" I groaned.

"I'm getting cold, Bob," she said, her voice very businesslike.

You know how when you go to the beach and stand on the sand while the waves come up and swirl around your ankles? The sand shifts under your feet. It felt like that. I was standing on shifting sands. There were things going on that I didn't fully understand. I was already involved with this woman's daughter, and that could turn out several ways, not all of which were good. And anything I did now was in the same category.

"I don't want there to be problems between us," I said.

"If I catch pneumonia and die, you won't have to worry about that!" she snapped.

"Yes, Ma'am!" I said, and pushed my shorts to my ankles. She stared, unabashed.

I got out, got the towels and started running one all over her.

"Help me sit down," she said, trying to push herself up on her good leg with her good arm.

I put my arms around her, and got handfuls of soft breasts. She didn't complain, but stood up.

"Boy it feels good to stand up!" she said.

I realized I was still holding her breasts, and that her naked back was pressed to my naked front. My cock was pushed against something warm. Since my right wrist was trapped between her body and the cast on her arm, I reached for a towel with my weak hand and started dabbing at whatever I could reach.

She laughed!

"I hope you aren't this clumsy with Cindy," she giggled.

"Cindy likes me just fine!" I said. I admit I was frustrated.

"I know," she said, and giggled again. "Stop!"

I stopped. She pulled my left hand away from her left breast and lifted the cast a little, twisting until she was facing me.

"How weird would it be if I asked you to kiss me, Bob?" she asked, her face inches from mine.

She pressed her front against mine. I felt my prick glide into the little triangle where her legs met her torso. That meant those drooping vulva were sliding along the top of my cock. I couldn't feel that, but I knew it was happening.

"I don't think Randy would mind, Bob," she whispered.

What was weird about the kiss was more what was going on other than the kiss, if that makes any sense.

There we were, naked, our bodies pressed together, my erection pressed against her pussy lips, her nipples like hot little pebbles, pressing into my chest. But the kiss was almost chaste. Her lips were closed, though soft. Her good hand found the back of my neck and exerted mild pressure, and she moved her lips against mine. But it wasn't a passionate, out of control kind of kiss.

But her loins bumped mine as her pelvis gave a gentle thrust forward.

And the totality of the situation was more erotic than anything I could remember, with the possible exception of raising my head and seeing Cindy sucking daintily on the knob of my penis.

My hands, which had somehow ended up on her back, slid down to her butt cheeks of their own accord, and helped her push her loins against mine. The kiss broke, and she buried her face in my neck.

"Ohhhh Bob," she sighed. "I am in soooo much trouble here."

My instinct was to say "Me too," because now I was in lust with both of the Caldwell women. Instead, I just kneaded her butt cheeks, and thrust back.

"Stop that," she said, but with no heat in her voice. "It's hard enough to resist you as it is."

"I'm sorry," I said, into her wet hair.

"No you're not," she said.

"I know," I replied. "I was just trying to make you feel better."

"I can't have what would make me feel better," she said.

"Why not?" I asked, shamelessly. By now I knew what she wanted. And I wanted it too. Like I said, I was shameless.

"Because my children would all have strokes," she said.

"Maybe not Cindy," I said, remembering what she'd said herself, about not being able to have me.

"Take me back to the bed so I can get my hair combed and dry," she said.

I just thought she was working hard on getting out of the situation, so I complied. Except that I took her to the chair beside the bed.

"Sit there," I said. I went and got her hair dryer, which I'd seen in the bathroom. The comb was already by the bed. The cord was too short but she stood up, balancing, while I moved the chair, and then let me set her back down. I stood behind her and blew her hair dry while I combed it. The noise prevented conversation, but I figured that was just as good. We both needed some time to think. It wasn't until her hair was almost dry that I realized I was still buck naked.

Shameless as I was, I peered over her shoulder while I dried her hair, looking at her breasts. Her nipples had relaxed, but still had that cylindrical shape to them. If you've ever opened a bottle of medicine that had one of those cylindrical plastic moisture desiccant things in it, her nipples were that shape and size. No baby could possibly resist those nipples.

But eventually, her hair was dry. She had me put her back in bed, and said she was hungry.

So I went and looked through the pantry. Mac and cheese was a possibility, as were grilled cheese sandwiches. But we also had salad makings, and she was in very good shape, suggesting she was careful about what she ate. Since she was laid up, I didn't want to deluge her in calories. So I went back to ask her what she wanted.

She was masturbating.

Her eyes were closed, and the look on her face suggested frustration. I thought about how her right hand, the one she usually used for everything, was firmly ensconced in a cast. Well, the fingers were protruding, but she couldn't bend her elbow, or move her wrist. I tried to imagine jacking off left-handed. I knew that wouldn't work for beans.

I decided to be straightforward about things. I mean it was obvious we were going to have to make some decisions about the future. Otherwise we'd both probably go stark raving mad.

"Hey," I said softly. She jerked her hand away from her groin and gasped. "Sorry to interrupt, but what do you want. I can do grilled cheese, or mac and cheese or salad. You want anything in particular?"

"Shit," she muttered. "I don't care. I'm so embarrassed!"

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," I said calmly. I realized I was still naked. "Look at me," I said.

She did, and her eyes went to my penis, which was about half hard.

"The only reason I'm not doing the same thing is that I'm involved in food preparation at the moment."

Her mouth opened and closed.

"Tell me what you want, and I'll help you after you've finished eating. I know it has to be driving you crazy, trying to use the wrong hand."

She closed her eyes again.

"I do not believe this," she sighed. "Okay. I want a grilled cheese, with bacon on it. Asparagus on the side, and I think there are some cherry tomatoes in the fridge. And some grapes. There should be some of those in there too."

"Got it," I said. I started to leave.

"Bob?"

I turned back around.

"Will you really help me ... later?"

I put what I hoped was a sunny smile on my face. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

She put her hand over her eyes. I left her to think things over.

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