Serendipity - Version Bravo

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Epilogue


There was a time when it all began to seem like some bizarre dream. That was after I'd been back home for several months, and was back to coaxing the spunk from my balls by hand again. I saw Emma every now and then, and she always waved and blew me a kiss. Once, Ashley was with her. When she saw me she ran across the yard and kissed me on the cheek, saying, "I still love you." But then she ran back to her friend. I would find out years later that the musketeers had formed a new pact. They couldn't have me until Caitlin could have me again.

Oddly, Hannah and I maintained the same kind of brother/sister relationship we'd had for the previous ten years. She called occasionally and chatted about this and that. Granted, now, during those conversations, when she said, "I miss you," it had a different meaning than it had in the past, but we didn't have phone sex or anything like that. I called her too, on her Birthday, and on Valentine's Day. Valentine's day was the only day we actually talked about missing sleeping together. I had sent her a dozen roses, and when I called to make sure she got them, she said, "If you were here, you'd get so very lucky."

But we didn't run away together to live happily ever after, or any of that stuff. Life went on, and we were thankful for what happiness we had had.

Or at least that's how I looked at it.

It turns out that the women were making plans. They just didn't keep me abreast of them.

I suppose I shouldn't complain about that. For all I know they made Plan A, which fell through, and then Plan B, which also didn't work out. It's possible that they were all the way up to Plan R before I was made aware I had a role to play in it.

Anyway, how I did find out that I had a role more involved than being just a fondly remembered lover, was when Hannah called me one night and opened the conversation with, "I need the services of a good architect. You know any?"

"They don't have architects in California?" I asked, mildly amused.

"They do, but they're worthless, since the building I want designed will be built in Oklahoma."


"Honest to Pete."

"What's going on?"

"I finally decided to use my doctorate for something other than teaching," she said.

"Tell me about it."

"There's nothing much to tell. Caitlin got accepted at the University of Oklahoma at Norman, and I got a job at the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. So we're moving to Oklahoma after she graduates. For some strange reason she wants to live with her mother while she goes to college, and I've always wanted to live in a house I had something to do with designing. So I need an architect to turn what I tell him I want into all those funny lines on the blueprints."

I was stunned. I'd had no clue, no hint whatsoever, that any of this was going on. And they must have known this for the last eight or ten phone calls. They just kept me in the dark.


I realized I was standing there with my mouth hanging open.

"Wow," I said.

"Isn't it wonderful? Maybe we'll get to see you more often."

"You think?" I was aghast. Her whole demeanor was just blowing me away. Then the excitement of the possibilities hit my stomach and I almost bent over. "You'll probably be hard pressed to keep me away," I said.

"Oh, I don't think that would be such a burden," she said. "How about it? Want to design my new house?"

"Hell yes, I do," I said. "Is this for real?"

"I'm flying in to OKC next week to inspect several parcels of land," she said. "Once I buy something, I'm going to want to get going very quickly. I report to my new job in August."

"That's plenty of time," I said. "It's only November now, and I can have a set of preliminary drawings done up for you in a couple of weeks. Why don't I meet you in OKC and look at the property with you. If you decide now, I'll already know what the geology looks like, and can incorporate that into the design. Plus you can tell me what you have in mind. I could have something ready for you by February at the latest."

"Sounds good to me. I'll email you with my itinerary."

And, just like that, the conversation was over. We didn't talk about anything else. It was very businesslike. I sat there, amazed that, once again, the Anderson women had rocked my world. Oklahoma City. Norman. Both were just a forty-five minute drive from Chickasha, where I lived.

Suddenly, the world was a brighter place.

That week went by fast. Her email told me when she'd fly in to Will Rogers, and I emailed her back that I'd be her transportation while in Oklahoma. Her itinerary had her coming in on a Tuesday, and leaving on Thursday, which gave me hope that I'd manage to convince her to stay at my house for the two nights she'd be here. And, if she needed to stay in a hotel to make her schedule work, then maybe I could convince her to let me stay with her.

I knew the properties she was going to look at were in the Seminole area, and since I'd already done some work in that part of the state I knew what to expect in terms of what depth the ground water was, and what type of geology there would be. Depending on her budget, I had some ideas that might be useful. Installing a ground source heating and cooling system, for example. If she had geothermal, and solar panels on the roof, she could be off the grid if necessary and perhaps even sell power back to the electric company. If nothing else, her electric bill would be close to zero each month. And there were other things she could do that would make the property more valuable, both to live in and later sell.

So I was excited as I stood at the luggage carousel that was listed for her flight. I knew the flight had landed, because I'd sat where I could see one of the electric boards that announced such things.

I saw her head first. Her hair was swept back in a pony tail, and the strong bones of her face made her easy to recognize, even from far away. She was walking with that stride that suggests she's got important business to get to. As she got closer, my eyes appreciated the dress she had chosen to wear. It was forest green, her favorite color, and it was made of rayon or whatever material it is that clings to every subtle change in the shape of the body.

Such as her breasts. That dress put her breasts on display. Even from where I was, still a hundred feet away, I could see those breasts bouncing gently, and the men around her turning their heads, some briefly, some for longer periods, as they appreciated her too.

She saw me and smiled and waved. She was walking straight toward me, which is why I didn't see another feature that dress was advertising, prominently. I did notice there was something amiss with her waistline, but I was too busy drinking in her face and chest to be bothered with trying to figure that out.

In fact, it wasn't until she hugged me that I realized there was something between us inhibiting the hug.

I pushed her away with my hands on her shoulders, and looked down.

Now I could see what that dress was advertising.

She was clearly pregnant.

And, while I wasn't an expert in these matters, I was pretty sure she'd been pregnant for at least two or three months.

"Surprise," she said, softly.

I blinked. I swallowed. I turned my head to look for something to sit down on before I collapsed because my knees felt like jelly.

"When did this happen?" I asked, weakly.

"I think you know when this happened," she said. "You'd better know when this happened."

"But you didn't tell me."

"What could you have done about it if I had?"

I stared at the bulge that was my first child. Something began to expand inside of me that I was pretty sure would fill me up to overflowing and might cause me to burst into pieces.

"I could have celebrated!" I said.

"So ... this is a celebration?" She moved her hands to smooth over the bulge.

"You bet your sweet ass it is!" I exclaimed. Several people looked our way. I'd said "ass" pretty loudly.

"I'm glad," she said. "I have to admit I was a little worried."

"Worried? About what?" My voice was still much too loud, and she pushed me backwards towards a wall, farther away from the carousel.

"I was a worried that all that stuff you told me while we were making this baby was just role playing."

"Stuff?" My voice rose. "That wasn't stuff. That was me, pouring my heart out to you!" My voice rose even more.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Caitlin was right. She yelled at me for not telling you, but I was too scared."

"Caitlin." My voice got soft very suddenly. I looked to both sides of us, as if I thought someone might be trying to eavesdrop. They hadn't had to try to eavesdrop prior to this, because I was yelling most of the time. "Is she ... ?"

"Pregnant?" Hannah's voice was dry. "No, Bob. Half satyr that you are, you did not knock up both of the Anderson girls in the space of two weeks. Geesh, Bob. Give me a break, here."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just so ... surprised."

"And I'm surprised that you're surprised. You sure tried hard enough to do this. I thought you'd call me and ask if I'd had a period or not, but you never did. And then I missed my second one, and Caitlin said I should tell you, but I wanted to wait until the lab test was done. Then I was afraid you'd be unhappy. Caitlin says I'm a big chicken."

"Tastes like chicken," I said. It just popped out.


"Nothing. Sorry. I want to eat you up right now. You look so beautiful ... and that's my baby ... our baby. I'm not unhappy. Are you surprised? Of course you're surprised. You already said you were afraid I'd be unhappy. But I'm not. In fact, I don't think I've ever been this happy in my whole life. I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Yes." She was grinning, and even though there was no outward sign of it, I could sense her relaxing.

I reached for her again, and pulled her against me.

"I love you. Do you love me?"

She giggled. "That sounds like a song I heard one time, about a note that was passed in class."

"You like country music?" I gaped.

"I like all kinds of music," she said. "Besides, you recognized it, so that means you listen to it too."

"Never mind that," I said. "That's our baby," I said, pushing against her bump just enough that she could tell I was doing it. I didn't want to hurt the baby. "And I love you, and right now I'm kind of desperate to hear you tell me you love me too."

"I do," she whispered against my lips. "The world does not approve."

"Fuck the world," I whispered back.

"No, don't do that," she said.

She pressed back and kissed me gently.

"You fucked me ... and look what happened."

We collected her luggage, and left. That was good, because it was all I could do to keep myself from standing behind her and reaching around with both hands to cup her bulge. Just as incest is frowned on, fondling a pregnant woman's belly in public is frowned on too. I don't know who all those people were who did the original frowning, but I wish I could go back in time and burn their eyebrows off. They made a bunch of rules on a whim that the rest of us are saddled with today.

Hannah didn't want to waste any time. By that, I mean her first priority was to take care of business, so we could go home to my house and ... well ... take care of business, if you get my drift.

She called the realtor on her cell phone, and arranged to meet her at our first destination, which turned out to be a two acre plot of land notched into a wheat field. It had a farmhouse on it, surrounded by a wind break of trees that had been allowed to grow wildly. Some of the trees had died as a result. There were a few pieces of rusty farm machinery lying around in tall grass.

The house was two stories, with a tall attic area that had a dormer in it, which meant it might have been turned into quasi living space at some time in the past. The house didn't matter, though, because I knew Hannah wanted new construction, and that meant the house would come down.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It will be dusty during planting season and harvest," I said. "The road shouldn't cause too much problem with dust because the prevailing winds will blow it away from the property. The trees will help with the wind, but some of them are in bad shape and need to be replaced."

"Why would I care about some old trees around the edge of the property?"

"Because the wind blows every day in Oklahoma," I said. "It's a constant in every Okie's life. If you don't learn to love that, it can drive you crazy."

"Oh," she said. "So no matter where I buy, it will be windy?"

"Every day," I confirmed.

As if to punctuate the conversation, a gust of wind whipped up the hem of her dress, and showed me some thigh. She was me looking.

"Satyr," she snorted.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," I said. "Just wait until I get you home. You'll feel like a nudist by the time you leave."

"Caitlin told me how she and the girls used to stay naked all day long."

She had delivered that in an inflection free voice. Nor had there been any visual clues, that I could see, anyway, which gave me any information about how she felt about that. We were going to raise a baby. That was already firm in my brain, by that time. So good communication was going to be critical.

"How'd you feel about that?" I asked.

She raised one eyebrow, which made her look a little imperious.

"I was jealous."

"Ahhh," I said. "Not to worry. There won't be any bevy of naked girls cavorting in your new pool."

"That's not true," she said. "At least, according to Caitlin."

"Tell me more," I said. "That must have been an interesting conversation."

"She says I can have you, but I have to share you ... occasionally."

"You're kidding."

"I am not kidding. My own daughter has turned into a bully ... a hooligan .... a gangster. She threatened to blackmail me!"

"I'll spank her the next time I see her," I said, tightly.

"She'd just enjoy it," said Hannah, carelessly. "I'm not worried about her. It was funny, actually. I made sure not to laugh at her, though. I didn't want to hurt her feelings."

"Why not? She was way out of line."

"I don't want her mad at me. I want her terrified of me."

"Uh oh," I said. "What did you do?"

"I told her if she gave me any trouble, I'd give the baby up for adoption, and tell the world about you and her, and you and me."

"Wow," I said. I knew she'd never do that under any circumstances, and that it was a bluff. "The nuclear option, right out of the box."

"Like I said, I wanted her terrified."

"So, did she buy it?"

"She broke down and sobbed. It was so sad. She begged me to forgive her. That poor girl loves you as much as I do."

"So what happened then?"

"Then we sat down and talked about things. It was kind of liberating, actually. We'd never talked about all of this, not in detail. I knew quite a bit already about you and your ... um ... musketeers ... from back when I first got there, and she was trying to convince me that what she was doing was okay. But since then we had never had an actual discussion about how we felt about you and ... um ... details."


"Come on. Guys describe what they did with a woman to other guys."

"Oh," I said. For some strange reason, the thought of the two of them exchanging war stories of me in bed made blood start gravitating into my penis.

"It was good," she said. "It cleared the air."

"So no bevy of naked girls?" I tried to make my voice sound tragic.

"Does two count as a bevy?"

"Which two?" I asked.

"What do you mean which two?" She was outraged.

"Well, it could be Caitlin and Emma, or Caitlin and Ashley, or Ashley and Emma," I complained. "Not that it matters. I like them all. It would just be nice to know."

She goggled at me. "You are a fucking satyr!" she yelped. "Caitlin and me, you son of a bitch!"

"Oh," I said, trying to put on a pedantic air. "Well, I guess that's acceptable."

I saw her about to explode and put my index finger against her lips to forestall that.

"Turns out we both bluff pretty well, huh?"

"Asshole," she grumbled, relaxing.

"I believe the proper form of that address is, 'Asshole who I am hopelessly in love with,'" I said.

"Asshole," she said again, but she smiled.

"Seriously," I said. "You caved?"

"Caved to what?"

"Letting Caitlin ... um ... you know ... with me."

"Share you? It doesn't extend quite to that level."

"What level does it extend to?"

"She's going to live in the dorm the first year of college. She can come visit as often as she wants, but she'll have to decide carefully whether she wants to play with you or not."


"Because I'm not going to allow her to use birth control, unless she has a boyfriend."

"That sounds complicated," I said. "That really must have been an interesting discussion."

"It's not complicated at all," she said. "That she loves you is fine. Wonderful, in fact. I want her to love you. But she has no future with you in the role of husband, or quasi husband. She needs to find a nice young man to produce grandchildren for me. If she's actually trying to do that, then birth control is fine, until she finds the right man, and they want to start a family. But I'm not going to let you be her living dildo, which she can have any time she feels like it. If she wants me to give some of you up, then there need to be potential ramifications involved. Ergo, no birth control. Every time she decides to sleep with you, she'll know that you could be doing to her, what you did to me."

"She's eighteen," I reminded Hannah.

"Of course she is, and she has the right to make up her own mind. But I have the right to control some of what she wants, and she either plays by my rules, or she doesn't get to play at all. Not with you, anyway."

"Do you have any idea how unconventional all this is?" I asked, stunned by what she'd just said.

"Of course," she said. "But we only have two choices, here. One is to never do that with you again, and try to resume a way of life which the world could approve of. The other is to adapt to what has happened, do the best we can to protect our interests, and try to find some happiness in the process."

"I have to say, that sounds a little mercenary."


"Protect our own interests?"

"That's how the world works, Bob," she said, seriously. "I'm pregnant with your baby. I want to raise that child as my own. You're new to this children thing, but pretty soon you're going to find out that you'll do anything to protect your offspring. Anything!"

"What happens if Caitlin decides to chance things at the wrong time?" I asked.

"Then we'll have to adapt to that," she said. "I did."

"Yes, but your options are a little better than hers would be."

"That's true, and that's one of the things we talked about."

"I don't know if this kind of ... arrangement ... is a good idea," I said.

"Suddenly you're monogamous?"

"I've always been monogamous," I said.

"Couldn't tell it from what I walked in on."

"That was different. That was just three girls exploring their sexuality."

"And what if those three girls want to explore what it's like to be pregnant?"

I laughed.

"First off, I seriously doubt that any of them want to have my baby. Second, at least two of them have already forgotten me. I've seen Emma a few times since then, and Ashley once, but all of that was just in passing. Neither of them came to my door begging for more. You seem to think I have some special power over women, but that's not true at all. I hadn't had sex in over two years before the girls decided to explore. Women don't flock to me, and I'm a little picky about the women I'd risk having a baby with."

"You exposed all three of those girls to your sperm," she said.

"That's true," I said. "I lost control. I admit it. But that's over. There is no group of three girls flaunting it in front of me anymore. There is no bevy of beauties cavorting around my pool. And I hope soon to sell my house and not have a pool at all, because I hope desperately that you'll let me design a room for me in your new house."

"What about my pool?" asked Hannah. "What if they want to prance naked around my pool?"

"Are you trying to make this difficult for me?" I moaned.

"Not at all," she said. "Just as I wanted Caitlin to understand that life can be complicated, I want to make sure you understand that this relationship could get complicated too."

"It's not complicated enough?" I groaned.

"I've already thought about what to do with you," she said, ignoring my question. "You will not have your own room. We will have our bedroom. But there will be guest rooms, though, and it's conceivable you might sleep in one of them ... occasionally."

"I do not believe this," I sighed.

"Well, you'd better get used to the idea," she said.

She looked up at the car speeding down the road towards us, kicking up a rooster tail of dust.

"You caused it."

Penny Mac-something or other was Hannah's realtor. I didn't know a lot of realtors. In fact, I only knew one. But I'd seen the caricatures of them on TV, and Penny could have played any of those roles to perfection. She was bouncy, and positive, and vivacious, and had an armful of clipboard with dozens of pieces of paper on it that pertained to all the properties she was going to try to sell to Hannah.

Hannah introduced me as "My friend, Bob," which got a calculating glance at me. I never saw her look at Hannah's bulge, but I know she was aware of it, because she adapted her sales pitch to include "your new baby."

It was a long afternoon. We visited four sites, varying between the farmhouse I already told you about, which was on one point seven acres of land, to a twenty-five acre plot of rolling hills that had washouts and ravines on it that exposed the stark red subsoil that Oklahoma is known for.

We made arrangements to meet her to see two more places the next day.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, all bubbly and helpful. "I can get you a discount at the Ramada."

"Bob has a house in Chickasha, with a very nice guest room for me," said Hannah.

"Oh! He really is just a friend. I'm sorry. I thought ..." She didn't say it, but her meaning was obvious.

"He's my architect," said Hannah. "I've known him for years."

"Oh. How nice. Well, splendid, then. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

We followed Penny back to Interstate 40, and stayed behind her as she headed toward Oklahoma City. She had a lead foot, though, and was out of sight before we got to 240 and I turned onto it to get to I-44.

We were home forty minutes later, which probably seems like a long time for a man who is in heat, but I plied her with questions about the intimacies she and Caitlin had shared. It was fascinating, because it turned out that some of those intimacies were about Hannah and Chad, and the things Hannah had learned in her marriage. Those parts she just referred to in that manner, saying that the details were private. l didn't argue, or point out that they weren't private when it came to Caitlin. I wasn't going to pry. I felt incredibly lucky, and I wanted to do only things that would help the relationship flourish.

When we got home, Hannah wanted to take a shower. This time, when I stepped in with her, she didn't resist in any way at all. I have no idea how long we stood there, with me behind her, my boner trapped between her thighs, while my soapy hands moved from her breasts to her bulging abdomen. She just lay her head back on my shoulder and purred.

Like many men who are "virgins" when it comes to pregnant women, I assumed making love would involve all sorts of precautions. When she lay back on the bed and spread her legs, exposing her protruding pudendum to me, I assumed she wanted oral love.

So I gave her some. I was surprised when she tasted different than Caitlin, but I didn't tell her that. She was different from Kat in other ways too, in this scenario. Caitlin grabbed my hair and pulled hard, trying to get as much pressure on her clit as possible from my face, lips, teeth, whatever. But Hannah just toyed with my hair, letting her fingertips slip through it while she sighed and expressed in little snippets of sentences how happy she was that I was doing that I was doing.

It was fun, because I had time to pull her pussy lips apart with my fingers and expose her clit. Then I was able to circle it with the tip of my tongue, and lap at it like a dog, and suck it between my lips. Her hips bumped, and her belly rippled, and I got one of those comments that let me know she was happy.

Then, suddenly her fingers tugged at my hair.

"I want you in me, now," she sighed.

She pulled as I crawled up, unsure of how to do what she wanted.

"I don't want to crush the baby," I whispered.

"The baby is the size of a lemon right now. You won't hurt her by lying on top of me."

"All that bulge, and she's just a lemon?"

"Shut up, Bob. I don't want to talk about the baby. I want to recreate making her."

So I slid in and, other than there being some pressure against my abdomen, it was just like making love before.

An hour later, I was on my back and Hannah was riding me, rocking back and forth.

"You want to know something?" she asked, panting slightly.

"Sure," I said.

"I never did it this way before you."


"Chad was a big believer in the missionary position," she said.

"Oh," I said.

"Caitlin said I had to try it."

"Good grief," I sighed.

"She was right, too."

At that point she bent forward just a little more and started thrashing her hips, chasing an orgasm. When it arrived I pinched her nipples and found something else that she and Caitlin had in common. I could feel the pulsations of her pussy go crazy as I squeezed and tugged the nipples that would, in just a few short months, spurt milk for our baby to grow on.

She was all business when we met Penny the next morning. She didn't talk to me at all, unless she had a question about how something might affect the building of the house. Penny had been solicitous towards me the day before, trying to sell me the property too, but today she ignored me as well.

In the end, Hannah decided on a seven point two acre piece of land on the corner of a section. It, too, had been a farmstead at one time, but the house itself had fallen in. It had several outbuildings that were still in good shape, and a creek running through the property about half a mile from the house site. Trees had volunteered, and blanketed the property. Many would probably need to be removed, to encourage the growth and health of others, but there was good potential there for having a cool, shady place to walk, where the wind would only frisk between the trees, and rush overhead.

It was on a corner, which increased the dust issue, but I suggested that the house could be built anywhere, and not close to the road, as the fallen down one had been.

That decision having been made, we returned to Penny's office to start the paperwork. It turned out Hannah did not need a loan. She'd put Chad's life insurance into high yield bonds, which had done very well indeed. Then, sensing some danger, she'd taken the money out of the risky arena, and put it into oil and gas investments. She happened to choose a broker who was excited about oil development in North Dakota.

So she had the cash to buy the property and build the house, assuming we didn't go hog wild on the house.

Of course I had some money too.

So we ended up going hog wild on the house.

I knew people locally, who were in the building trade, and who wanted me, a successful architect, to refer customers to them. Consequently, I was able to get all but some of the interior finish done by the time Hannah arrived with Timothy Raymond Simmons, our healthy, bouncing son.

I guess I glossed over that part. It occurs to me you might be interested in how he came to be a Simmons, instead of being an Anderson.

And if you're not interested, then skip ahead a few paragraphs.

I worked on getting the house built, while Hannah stayed in California and worked on building a baby, who turned out to be a boy, instead of the girl Hannah was convinced was so active in her belly. She'd had ultrasounds, but had told the doctor she only wanted information that required some treatment plan. About week thirty-nine, I left the new house in the tender care of Rick Salisbury, our general contractor, and flew out to Santa Barbara to be there for the birth.

May in California is delightful. I wondered why Hannah was willing to give all this up. She'd never asked me to consider moving to California to be with her, and now that surprised me.

Caitlin was bouncing off the walls, and gave me a body-grinding hug, with a tongue swapping kiss, when I got there. Hannah watched, amused, one hand supporting her lower back as she appeared to be trying to lean away from the gross distention of her belly. Gone was the gentle swell of a growing baby. Now it looked as if that baby was trying to get big enough to split her open and emerge.

And emerge he did, five days later, but it was from a split that was already present in her body. There's something poetic about the fact that a baby comes out of the same place that the genetic material necessary to make him went into. But I'll tell you this, gentlemen. Be careful about watching your baby emerge from that vagina you love so much. You'll never look at that vagina the same way again. Why women agree to put themselves through that is beyond me. Perhaps that's why the urge to mate is so strong.

It has to be strong to overcome the resistance to having to force something the size of a watermelon through your birth canal.

Sorry. I didn't mean to kill the buzz. It's just that while a pregnant woman can be sexy as hell, there just isn't anything sexy about seeing one of the parts of her you love being stretched like that, and causing the woman you love so much pain and misery.

Anyway, the reason I was in the delivery room is that, when we got to the hospital, she introduced me as "The father of the baby." Our last names were different, but in this day and age, nobody even raised an eyebrow. So I was allowed to be with her during labor and delivery. Caitlin was there off and on, but Hannah went into labor while Kat was at school. We left her a note, and I got a frantic call when she got home from school. I told her I couldn't come get her, because Hannah needed me.

Caitlin had friends. She had one of them drop her off.

Hannah was glad to see her, but she didn't want her to go into the delivery room. I think that was to shield her from seeing something that might overcome nature's demand that she someday do the same thing.

When it came time for the paperwork to be completed, Hannah simply told them she wanted the baby to have the father's last name, and the bored clerk wrote it down that way, after I signed a document where I agreed I was the father. The clerk gave her a droning recitation of her rights, and that the document I had signed had no legal weight, should she later decide I was not the father, and that a DNA test could be requested to legally establish paternity.

Hannah's labor had lasted ten hours, and Timothy was born just after midnight. I had given Kat the keys to the car and told her to go get some sleep. Thankfully, it was Friday, which meant no school the next day, so she could come back to the hospital when she woke up.

She was elated to find she had a little brother to hold.

So were the dozen or so students who came to visit her in the hospital. I noticed most of them were male, and they looked disappointed when I was introduced as the father of the baby.

Hannah had to stay there all of Saturday and Sunday, and that meant Caitlin had me to herself those two nights. There was no discussion about it, nor did she ask if she could sleep with me. We had stayed at the hospital most of Saturday, leaving only to go eat, so when we got home, we were both tired.

Caitlin said, "I'm going to go take a shower. You know where things are. Whenever you're ready, come to bed. You're sleeping with me tonight."

"How will your mother feel about that?" I asked.

"My mother is busy with my new baby brother, and I'm not going to tell her you slept with me."

"She'll know anyway," I said.

"I know. But I'm not sleeping alone. Not if you're here. I've been without for much too long."

So I slept with her that night, and the following night too. And we fucked like bunnies.

She'd planned ahead, though.

She had a box of condoms.

So, when Hannah arrived in Oklahoma with Timothy, the house was mostly finished. I'd had them make sure the nursery was complete, and ready to be occupied. The furniture was still in boxes, and needed to be assembled, but Hannah and I did that together. The first thing she chose was this nifty swing, that had a battery assist on it. Timmy loved swinging, and it put him to sleep too, which gave us time to build the rest of his furniture.

And other things.

After all, we hadn't seen each other in a long time.

And gentlemen, let me tell you, making love to a lactating woman is a whole different kind of experience. It turns out that breasts operate on an emotional level sometimes. Take for example the sound of a hungry, crying baby. That triggers emotions in Mommy that cause her breasts to start leaking milk. Hannah called it "letting down", and when that happened she either needed Timothy to soak up all that milk, or a pad in her bra, lest it just leak all over the place.

Like it did as she rode me and a different kind of emotion caused her milk to let down. She groaned, and said, "Oh no, my milk's letting down!" and came to a reluctant stop. I felt her thighs tense as she prepared to get off of me.

"Don't stop!" I said. "A little milk isn't going to kill me."

And that was the first time I got to see little spots of white pop out all over her turgid nipples, and then turn into tiny sprays, going in all directions, as she started moving again, already close to catching up with the promise of an orgasm that had caused her to start leaking in the first place.

It was just by chance that she leaned over, grinding through that orgasm, which dropped one spurting nipple close enough that I could lift my head and capture it for a few sucks.

Warm. Sweet. Tasty. No wonder babies love to suckle at a breast so much.

Since then, I always enhance her orgasm by getting a few mouthfuls of milk as I pay attention to her sensitive nipples.

Her new job fit her like a glove. I think she was glad to get away from the grind of grading papers. The teaching part was something she loved, but the bureaucracy of education tends to kill the spirit, and I think she felt like she'd been set free. And that's why her new job, which involved organizing exhibits designed to teach school kids about what kinds of art exist, and the differences between them, was something she dropped into so effortlessly.

Since I could work from home, I took care of Tim while she was at work. I had to bottle feed him at first, using milk she pumped, but as he got older, and could supplement milk with solid food, I took him to visit her at the museum for his noon feeding.

It all worked rather well. Even when I had to do a site visit, or meet a client, I sometimes took Tim with me. I had a chest carrier for him and he was a bright, inquisitive kid who loved to watch the world as I carried him around.

We thought that the fact she wasn't having periods was related to breastfeeding. It wasn't until she took the baby in for a checkup that we found out otherwise. She said the doctor looked her over and, at first, she thought he was "checking her out." He was new to our little family, and she'd only seen him two or three times.

"Have you had a period since you delivered?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I'm breast feeding."

"How long has Timmy here been on solid food?"

"About two months. What's going on, Doctor?"

"A lot of moms have that little pooch for a while after delivering, but your body tone suggests yours should be gone by now."

"I don't understand," she said.

"You might be pregnant again," he suggested.

"No way," she yipped.

"So you haven't been having sex?"

"Well ... no ... I mean yes, I have."

"Let's run a test, what do you say?"

And that's how we found out that her fertility had resumed, most probably because Timmy was sleeping through the night, and was sucking at her breasts only four times a day. At least that was the doctor's theory.

And, when that fertility snuck back into the equation, I knocked her up again the very first time she ovulated.

This changed the way we looked at life. Having Tim had been something we saw as a happy form of serendipity. It was a little like fate, considering that Hannah had wanted to have that kind of relationship with me when she was in her teens, and then gave up on it, and then finally lived out that fantasy.

But having two children brought us firmly into the group of people who didn't plan on having a family, and had one anyway. It had its ups and downs. Hannah was in pretty good shape, all things considered. She loved being pregnant. She'd luxuriated in the physical changes with Timmy, because it brought back memories of having loved being pregnant with Caitlin. So the physical toll on her was minimal.

Me? Not so much. All I could think of was that pretty soon I was going to be doing nothing but changing diapers and entertaining little ones. I wasn't going to be able to get much work done. Sure, that was seven or so months away, but I worried about it none the less. That was really the only fly in the ointment, though. The house was plenty big, having been designed to accommodate a huge family. I never asked Hannah about that, back when I was designing and overseeing the house being built. I was too busy, and she was in California. I assumed it was simply because she'd had to live in somewhat cramped quarters her whole adult life, and wanted room to stretch out in. Plus I figured that Caitlin would visit from time to time, both before and after she got married and had kids of her own.

So the new baby could have his or her own room, if that's what we wanted.

We were talking about all this one night, lying entangled and sweaty after making love.

"We'll get a nanny," said Hannah. "Then you can get your work done. She can live in. Problem solved."

"A nanny?" I'd only been a father six months. I was just getting used to the idea I actually had a child. I was still unsure what I could and couldn't feed the little tyke. I was so busy learning how to be a dad that I'd never even thought about things like baby sitters and nannies. Perhaps I had "Daddy tunnel vision." That's a term I just made up, but it means the new father is so busy trying to be a father, that he doesn't see some of the possibilities and options available to him.

"A nanny," she confirmed. "We've got the income to support that. It would make life easier for us, especially after the new baby comes. I think we should do that."

"A nanny," I said, trying to taste the word.

"Of course she'd have to be old and ugly," said Hannah. "I can't afford to have a young, pretty woman living here with us. There is a satyr in residence, after all, and apparently, he's an extremely virile, vigorously fertile satyr."

"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed. "I have eyes only for you."

"Liar," she said, but she smiled. "I clearly remember you having eyes for three girls at once."

"That was then. This is now," I claimed.

"And if Caitlin were here, and beckoning you to come to her bedroom, you'd resist?" She raised one eyebrow.

You can take hyperbole only so far before you begin to sound idiotic.

"I'd be tempted," I admitted.

She laughed.

Let me explain. I haven't mentioned Caitlin in a while, so I should probably catch you up on her.

Kat was doing very well in school. She took to the freedom of college life like a duck to water. She didn't shy away from hard classes, and took a full load her first semester. She was living in one of the co-ed dorms, which she loved and I wasn't so crazy about because, and I admit it, I was jealous of all those boys I hadn't met, but knew what they were thinking when they looked at her.

We saw her every couple of weekends, when she showed up with a duffle bag full of laundry and enough homework that she didn't have time to lie around or play video games or whatever. She usually stayed Saturday night and she usually came to find me, wherever I was, to say, "I'm ready for bed."

That meant I was supposed to be ready for bed too. With her.

This ... arrangement ... was never discussed with me, either by Caitlin, or Hannah. The first time it happened, I was lying in bed, reading. So was Hannah, right beside me. When Kat came to the bedroom door, dressed only in a T shirt that didn't go far enough downward to cover her pussy, and said those words, Hannah nudged me with her elbow and said only, "Go ahead."

Caitlin went crazy on those occasions. That's the only way I can describe it. She would make love until she dropped from exhaustion. And if I made the mistake of cumming before she'd had three or four orgasms, it was up to me to make sure she got three or four more, whatever it took. I think she bottled up all that passion while she was at school, and it all came flooding out when she came to our house to get her bell rung. Sometimes we went through three condoms a night.

She took those condoms seriously, especially since she found out her mother was pregnant again. The first night we were together after she found out, she lay on the bed with her head right beside my erection. Reaching with one finger, she pushed it vertical, and said, "You're a dangerous little fella, aren't you!" She was much better at installing them now. All it took her was ten seconds and she was pulling me on top of her to get that thoroughly covered penis into her.

So no, I didn't actually have eyes only for Hannah. She was the mother of my child, and would soon be the mother of my children, but our circumstances weren't exactly ... normal. I guess, upon reflection, they'd never been what most people would call normal.

Still, I wasn't going to let her impugn what little fidelity I had in me. I dredged up some dignity and spoke with it.

"I'm not going to try to seduce the nanny, whether she's young or old, or ugly or pretty."

"We'll see," she said, smiling.

I'm aware that some of you out there are puzzled by Hannah's attitude about other women ... and me. I'm not sure I can explain it well. It's like trying to describe the taste of some particular food. Words don't convey taste.

It boils down to the concept that I loved Hannah. But it wasn't just one kind of love. I loved her as a sister. I loved her as the mother of my child. I loved her as a woman. I loved her as my lover. We weren't married, in the traditional sense of that word. We couldn't get married in the traditional sense. But we were just as committed to each other as traditionally married people are.

When you get right down to it, "marriage" is a state of mind, more than permission from a governmental entity on a piece of paper.

But there were differences too. She was my sister, and that could never be changed. It was an inalienable fact of life. We were joined in a way that couldn't be broken, even if we wanted it to. "Normal" married couples aren't like that. They have chosen to form a bond. And all too often they choose to break that bond.

Think about it this way. If you have a brother or sister, and they have a family, that doesn't affect the bond you have with them. No matter what they do ... or who they have sex with ... they're still your brother or sister. That bond is permanent, whether you love that fact, or hate it.

Hannah and I couldn't break the brother/sister bond. We were bound for life. And I think it was that unbreakable bond that convinced her that no matter whether I loved Caitlin, or some other woman, that wouldn't take away from the love we shared, a love that couldn't be broken.

From my perspective, I felt sort of like I had stumbled into a bramble bush, and couldn't get out of it. That analogy breaks down when you consider that, if the sharp points of the brambles are defined as Caitlin, Ashley, Emma, and Hannah. All of them had some hold on me, and it wasn't an uncomfortable hold. It could have been, but somehow all those women were happy with the portion of me they'd gotten.

And yes, I'm fully aware that's not how the world works.

Except that that's how it worked for me.

Of course I hadn't seen either Emma or Ashley since I sold the house and moved. But they had played a huge role in the way things had turned out for me, and I would never forget them. I knew Caitlin was still in touch with both of them, and that they were going to college somewhere, but that was about it. I didn't get regular updates on them or anything like that. Usually, when I had the chance to talk to Caitlin was when we were in bed.

And when we were in bed, Caitlin wasn't much interested in talking.

The last thing I want to say about this is that while Hannah might think of me as a satyr, I did not think of myself like that at all. I was just a guy who had stumbled into a bramble bush that turned out to be delightful. I was lucky, and I knew it. I was deeply involved in all sorts of taboo love, and the world would have a hissy fit if it ever found out about it.

As far as I was concerned, I was just a regular guy, trying to get by, and keep the wolves away from the door.

It was two months later that the nanny thing came up again. To be honest, I'd forgotten about it by then. Timmy was rolling over and scooting. It wasn't going to be that much longer before he figured out how to crawl. He had strong legs and loved to try to stand up, but didn't quite have the muscles to maintain that for long. I still took him everywhere I went and that turned out to be important, nanny wise.

It involved a man who, point blank, wanted to know why I was so unprofessional as to bring a child to a meeting. I didn't really feel like it was any of his business why I did that, and told him I was there to discuss architectural issues, and not children. Within the next ten minutes he sent me enough negative signals that I just told him it wasn't going to work, and left. I didn't want to work for or with people who had that kind of attitude.

But that's when Hannah found us a nanny.

I met the nanny when Hannah came home from work one day, nanny in tow.

I was in the kitchen, giving Timmy a snack.

"This is Snow Lily. She is our new nanny."

I looked up to see an Indian woman. Sorry. Native American woman. I think that's a pretty silly "clarification", by the way. It's redundant. If you're native to a country, that's all that's required to say. It's like saying you're a white Caucasian. But I suppose, considering the shitty deal they got when those white Caucasians showed up, if that's what they want to be called, then that's fine. Assuming they're the ones who made that "clarification."

Anyway, back to Snow Lily, who I may identify by different adjectives, depending on how PC I'm feeling at the moment.

It was hard to tell, but I estimated her age to be mid to late twenties. She smiled at Timmy and ignored me.

"Snow Lily, this is my husband Bob, and Timmy, who you will be helping to take care of."

Within the time it takes you to read this sentence, I was usurped, and Snow Lily was giving Timmy his snack, talking to him in her native language.

He was delighted.

"Would you go out to the car and get her things?" asked Hannah. "She's going to live in one of the guest bedrooms. I don't know which one yet. She gets to choose."

Being the good "husband" I went to her car, where I found two cheap suitcases. I took them in, and found them examining the bedroom on the other side of the nursery, which was right next door to the master bedroom. The things Caitlin left at the house were in the bedroom directly across the hall from the master bedroom. I tell you this so you understand that Snow Lily was separated from the bedrooms where "the action" would be taking place, only by the nursery.

And both Hannah and Caitlin were loud lovers.

I also mentioned this to Hannah, when I got her away from our new nanny, who was already taking care of Timmy.

"We didn't think this out very well," I said. I explained about the proximity of the nanny's digs to the two locations in the house were wailing women could often be found.

"It won't be a problem," she said.

"And how is that?" I asked.

"Snow Lily is a member of the Absentee Shawnee Tribe," she said. "We had a long discussion about marriage and other things. Native American traditions, back before Christian Missionaries showed up and forced changes to everything, were quite different than those of Europeans. They didn't look at marriage and sex as things that were necessarily tied together."

"Wait," I said. "You mean married couples didn't have sex?"

"No, I mean sex wasn't confined to marriage."

"They slept around?"

"That's not how they looked at it. Women had the choice of who to have sex with. Women were equal with men in that culture."

"But what about all those movies, and the squaws, and all that?"

"Made by white people who were trying to obliterate Indian culture. Practically none of what you see in movies is actually true."

"You must have had a long conversation," I said.

"I interviewed her over a period of three days," said Hannah. "Actually, to be honest, she interviewed me over a period of three days. It took her that long to agree to take the position. We talked about anything and everything, not just Timmy."

"How, exactly did you meet this woman?" I asked.

"She's the cousin of one of the techs I work with at the museum. I mentioned that I was thinking about hiring a nanny and she introduced me to Snow Lily."

"What's she going to think about Caitlin?" I wondered aloud.

"She already knows about Caitlin. She says she will think of us as sister wives."


"Apparently, back in the day, Indian men liked to marry sisters, because they were more likely to get along with each other."

"Well how about that," I said.

"Not that Snow Lily is stuck in the past. She's thoroughly modern. She simply embraces her tribe's culture, both past and present."

"That's cool," I said. "Maybe I'll learn some things from her about Indians."

"I'm sure you will."

"Just out of curiosity, did you interview anybody else?"

"Five women," she said. "I like the way Snow Lily looks at child rearing. She feels it's just as important to care for the spirit of the child as the body."

"I don't have any problem with that," I said. "I don't suppose any of those other women were less attractive." I was kidding. Okay, I was trying to kid. It fell rather flat.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that. She likes girls better than boys."

"That must have been one doozey of an interview," I said.

"I told you, we talked about pretty much everything. If the nanny is going to live with us, then we need to make sure the fit is right. That's what I was trying to do."

Snow Lily was, in fact, a gift from whatever gods her culture had worshiped in times past. Suddenly, I had time to work again, unencumbered by the need to drop everything and change a diaper or feed a hungry little boy. But in those times when I wasn't working, I got to spend as much time as I wanted with my son. Snow Lily had this uncanny ability to disappear, off doing whatever she was doing, and then show back up whenever her services were needed for some reason.

Her accent was delightful. Whether she was speaking English, or her native Algonquian dialect, it was fun to hear the lilt of her voice. She spoke to Timmy in Algonquian frequently, switching back and forth between that and English. One day I commented on it.

"You know, he's going to grow up bilingual."

"I hope so," she said, quite seriously. "That would be a good thing."

"I agree," I said. "But I could never learn it."

"You are probably right," she said. "You are old and your mind is like thick mud."

"Gee, thanks," I said, making it clear I felt insulted.

"You cannot help it. White people eat the wrong things. Many of them think the wrong things too. Or the wrong way, perhaps. They do not exercise much either. All this causes the brain to become a place where thoughts cannot move freely."

"Gee, Snow Lily, tell me what you really think," I said.

"I just did."

That was what Snow Lily was like. She said what she meant, and meant what she said. She didn't sugar coat anything, or try to be politically correct. It was refreshing as hell, because I got to communicate that freely with her as well, and she didn't take offense.

Then again, I sometimes got the impression that, to Snow Lily, nothing a white man ever said was all that important.

With Hannah, though, her demeanor was much more relaxed. They became friends. They taught each other how to cook their culture's dishes, and chatted about Timmy's day, and the progress he was making in becoming a man. I'm serious. That's how it was phrased sometimes. I actually heard Snow Lily say, "He will become a good man. I can tell." The way she said it made it sound like that was a big deal.

Apparently, as far as Snow Lily was concerned, good men were few and far between.

She and Caitlin got along fine, but they saw so little of each other that they didn't have much chance to get to know each other. When Hannah was going to be home, such as weekends, Snow Lily was free to go off and do whatever she wanted to. That apparently included pursuing whatever kind of sex life she was interested in. Her girlfriend, or whatever, never came to our house. And I know she didn't go "home" to sleep, when she wasn't at our house. Over the first few months she was with us, I caught enough bits and pieces of the chatter between her and Hannah to learn that the home situation she had left, to come live with us, was not a happy one. So I was pretty sure that those nights she didn't come home, she was staying with her girlfriend.

I don't want to give the impression that Snow Lily and I did not get along. We did. It was simply a more formal arrangement than she had with Hannah.

And she was worth twice what we paid her. Almost all the stress I'd been going through in my role as a father was reduced to the point that I was smiling a lot more. I even started going out and walking, trying to get more exercise so my brain wouldn't be quite so muddy.

By the time Timmy's sister was ready to be born, Snow Lily was, quite simply, a part of the family. Her attitude towards me was comical in many ways. At least that's the way I decided to look at it. She wasn't so formal with me anymore, and her willingness to shoot from the hip was both refreshing and a little startling at the same time.

Like one day, when she asked me to sit down at the kitchen table. Normally, this meant she wanted to discuss something about how Timmy was being raised. Punishment issues were decided in this "conference" fashion, for example. So I sat down. She sat on the other side, with Timmy on her lap.

"Hannah is very close to delivering," she said, for an opener.

I nodded.

"You are falling down on the job as her husband."

"Please explain," I said. I had learned that this was the best course of action when talking to Snow Lily. She liked to explain things, and it was much easier and quicker to get to the meat of the matter when she did.

"She needs to be made love to more. When you do that, it helps the baby decide to come."

"I see," I said, not seeing at all. It was very difficult for Hannah and me to couple these days. The expanse of her belly made it impossible for me to be in any sort of "on top" position, and when she sat on top of me, neither of us could see where we were joined. She couldn't reach my cock any more, in that position, unless she reached behind her, which was awkward. I also wondered what a girl in her mid twenties knew about what caused a woman to go into labor and what didn't.

"The baby is grown," said Snow Lily. "She is just comfortable in her safe cocoon, and needs to be coaxed out into the world. You should be helping with that."

"It's ... um ... difficult," I said.

"There are ways it can be not difficult," she responded.

"I see," I said again, still not seeing.

"No you do not. Do not be stubborn, like so many men are. Come. I will show you."

"I beg your pardon?" Her offer was so startlingly plain that I was shocked. She had shown no interest in me in any way, shape or form, and now she was willing to show me how I could make love to Hannah to induce labor?!

"I will show you how you can please her and cause her belly muscles to ripple."

"Um ... okay." I was still stunned.

She turned and walked away. Obviously I was supposed to follow. And, obviously, I was going to end up fucking Snow Lily.

"Ethnocentric" is a word you need to become familiar with, if you aren't already. Basically, it means evaluating the customs and cultures of other people, based on your own values and customs. Take, for instance, the "custom" in our little family, of me having repeated sexual contact with women who were also close relatives of mine. That's a PC way of saying incest. In western culture, this is considered a bad thing to do, and people in America would consider me to be mentally ill, or evil and predatory if they found out I had been doing that.

But in other cultures around the world, it is not only acceptable for an uncle to introduce his niece to sexual intercourse, it is actually applauded. Incest, in those cultures, is not seen as something wrong at all. We in the west, tend to be ethnocentric about those people, because we think we're right about everything.

Obviously we're right about everything. Otherwise we wouldn't believe what we do. Right? I mean who believes things that are perceived as being wrong?

So I was a bit ethnocentric in evaluating Snow Lily's offer to show me how to please my pregnant sister.

I assumed that meant she was going to let me have sex with her.

And, being a man, I will freely admit that I didn't foresee that as being an onerous task.

Maybe I am half satyr.

Anyway, when we got to the bedroom, I was already unbuttoning my shirt.

Snow Lily turned to speak to me, saw what I was doing, and not being ethnocentric in the least, addressed me in her usual direct manner.

"You have misunderstood. I will not lie with you. I do not lie with men. I am merely going to show you what can be done to make her comfortable while you do your duty as a husband."

This is another reason why you should understand ethnocentricity. You feel really stupid when you find out you jumped to erroneous conclusions.

But one of the really nice things about Snow Lily was that she forgave as easily as she pointed out someone's faults. Maybe forgot is the better word there. Once she had recognized me as the pig she no doubt thought I was, she ignored that fact.

She went to the linen closet and came back with an armload of blankets and comforters. Hannah and I slept with a lot of pillows, because generally, after we made love, we didn't want to move, and having lots of pillows meant one was always handy to reach for to get comfortable without pulling apart.

Snow Lily arranged pillows on the bed, and added folded and rolled up blankets. Then, fully clothed, she arranged herself on the bed in such a way that her head, back and butt were supported by pillows, and her widespread knees were supported by the blankets. Had she been naked, she would have been as open an offering as any woman ever has been. I saw the genius of this arrangement immediately, because her loins were lifted up off the bed a good eight inches, meaning I could stand on my knees and be able to enter her easily.

"Now, climb onto the bed and get between my thighs," ordered Snow Lily.

She might have made it crystal clear that she would never have sex with me. She might have made it crystal clear, in fact, that she wouldn't have sex with any man.

But my cock didn't have ears, and apparently wasn't aware that he wasn't getting lucky, because he sprang to life.

Snow Lily must have been aware of that sausage-shaped lump in the front of my pants, but she ignored it.

It turned out that I had been wrong again. The idea wasn't for me to just walk up to Hannah on my knees and plug in. I had been close, in that interpretation, but I got no cigar. Rather, it involved much more genius than that.

She had me walk on my knees, just as I had imagined. Then she had me grasp her hips with both hands, and lean back, instructing me to lift and pull. That dragged her down on her pillows, and brought her jeans-clad pussy against my bulge.

"In this position you can enter her, and then rock her back and forth on the pillows," she said.

Then she made me do that. This caused her jeans clad pussy to bump into my bulge repeatedly.

"While you do this, you can touch her -má’ko’seo’o."

She reached for one of my hands and placed it on her pubic mound, pressing my thumb directly on where her -má’ko’seo’o obviously was. Just like that, I was bilingual. Well, at least in terms of saying "clitoris." I was pretty sure that wasn't going to come up in casual conversation any time in my life, but you never know.

"And an orgasm will help start her labor?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot.

"No, when you excite her, her hormones will excite the baby and make it move. The more it moves, the more likely it will rupture the placenta and then she can enter the pool and have the baby."

"Enter the pool?" I repeated.

"She has chosen to labor in a pool of warm water. Hasn't she discussed this with you?"

"Not yet," I said, trying to make it sound like I was sure that would be the first thing Hannah said when she got home from work that day.

"Well, that is what she wants. Remember, your thighs are supporting some of her weight, and they help you rock her back and forth while you pleasure her with your fingers. Getting into the correct position is the hard part. The rest comes naturally."

"I see," I said. And finally I did.

"You may let me go now," she said.

I realized I was still making small, subtle movements, pulling her against me.

"Sorry," I said.

"You are a man," she replied, as if that explained everything.

Actually, perhaps it did.

After Hannah got home that night and had spent an hour with Timmy, I told her about the bizarre conversation Snow Lily had with me. I didn't hold anything back.

Well, I didn't tell her I got hard, but other than that I didn't hold anything back.

I suppose I didn't tell her about unbuttoning my shirt, and assuming that Snow Lily was going to have sex with me. But other than that I didn't hold anything back.

"How interesting," said Hannah. "Show me."

The pillows and blankets were still on the bed. Snow Lily was off with Timmy somewhere. She levered herself onto the stack of pillows and folded blankets.

"Feels weird," she said, leaning back.

I climbed up and got into position, lifting her butt to scoot my knees under her a little. She was a lot heavier than Snow Lily had been.

"Like this," I said, pulling her against me. "I can move you back and forth and play with your -má’ko’seo’o to give you an orgasm."

I was proud of myself for working that word into casual conversation. I placed my thumb on Hannah's -má’ko’seo’o to help her bilingual vocabulary too.

"No, no," came Snow Lily's voice from the open doorway of the bedroom.

Hannah and I both looked over at her. She had Timmy on one hip.

"Not with your clothes on," said the nanny.

"I was just showing her what you taught me," I said.

"Well show her naked!" said Snow Lilly, sounding exasperated. It was clear to me that her original intent was to add, "you stupid man!"

"We'll do that later," said Hannah, unruffled. "I'd like to be able to fall asleep after he works on me."

"If he does it right you may not be able to fall asleep," said Snow Lily. "If he does it right you may have to enter the pool."

"I'm not due for another four days," said Hannah.

"Babies know nothing of a calendar," said Snow Lily.

"What's this about doing your labor in water?" I asked, suddenly remembering that part.

"I made arrangements to use the birthing center in Shawnee to have the baby. Didn't I tell you about that?"

"Nope," I said. "I'm completely in the dark."

"They have birthing pools you can lie in. They support your weight and it's supposed to be easier on your body while you have contractions."

"Sounds interesting," I said.

"There's a doctor on staff, but they only call her if there's a problem."

"Call her? You mean she's not there?"

"No, the midwife will deliver the baby, unless she sees a problem the doctor needs to deal with."

"Midwife? I can't believe you didn't discuss this with me, Hannah!" I said. I was a little upset, which was strange, since I was still bumping Hannah's loins against mine.

"I'm sorry!" she moaned. "I thought I did talk to you about it. I've been so busy trying to get the Farnsworth exhibit up and running before I go into labor that I haven't had time to think about much else."

"You obviously had time to think about having the baby in a swimming pool," I complained.

"It's not a swimming pool. It's more like a Jacuzzi. And Shawnee is so much closer than Oklahoma City. More convenient too."

"I get that. And if you think this is a good way to have the baby then that's fine. You're the one going through it. I guess I just felt a little left out."

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching to touch my arms.

"Who is the midwife?" I asked, more to keep the conversation going than out of real curiosity.

"Oh! Snow Lily, of course," she replied.

It turned out we got a two-fer when we hired Snow Lily. Hannah didn't know she was a trained, licensed midwife when she interviewed her for the nanny position. That's because Snow Lily didn't tell her that. And I don't think she ever would have, except that they became friends, and Snow Lily decided that, because of that, Hannah deserved the best care available.

Obviously, the best care was what Snow Lily could offer.

So, during one of their innumerable chats, while cooking or taking care of Timmy or whatever, they discussed labor and delivery and Snow Lily revealed that she had connections with the birthing center. And, as they say, the rest is history.

Now all of that may be strange enough, but the strangeness was only started.

Snow Lily decided that, quite possibly because I was a man, and not to be trusted to do things correctly, that she would supervise my first attempt at "making Hannah's belly ripple."

That's right. She stood by the bed and coached me while I slid into Hannah and began playing with her -má’ko’seo’o.

It was weird. It was interesting. And ... it was spectacular.

That's because, right in the middle of it all, as Hannah began bucking her hips upward and saying she was about to cum, Snow Lily leaned down and sucked one of Hannah's nipples.

It seems she knew that Hannah loved that, and that it caused her orgasms to be intensified.

And it seems that Hannah had already agreed that Snow Lily should do this.

Those must have been some interesting conversations.

But the craziest thing of all ...

Was that it worked.

I saw the imprint of an elbow arc across the tight skin of Hannah's belly, and then a shoulder followed.

An instant later a deluge of fluid spurted out from around my cock, where it was plugged into Hannah.

Her water had, in fact, broken.

Having a midwife handy when a pregnant woman goes into labor is ... well ... handy. Not that Hannah didn't know how to proceed. She'd done this twice before, after all.

And I knew what to do too, which was get the car ready and keep out of Snow Lily's way as she shepherded her charge through getting ready to go to the birthing center.

And I took care of Timmy, of course.

I drove. Hannah gave me instructions on where to go. There were people there who came out to help get Hannah inside. I had already been told to bring Timmy in, because there was child care available inside.

Somebody put some thought into it when they built this birthing center. It was designed (I think) for single mothers who were having their second (or whatever) child. Those women didn't have to scurry around looking for someone to take care of the child(ren) they already had, while they had another. They could bring the kid(s) to the birthing center and they'd be taken care of until she could take them home with the new baby.

They had rooms for whatever kind of labor you chose to go through, from traditional beds to the birthing pool Hannah had chosen. You could get drugs, or deliver naturally. It was just like a hospital, except there weren't a bunch of sick people all over the place.

And, either because Hannah had done this before, or because the birthing pool was a good idea, her labor was only four hours long. Snow Lily was in the pool with her soothing her with touches and caresses, and doing cervical exams. When Hannah was completely dilated, they moved out of the water to a cluster of pillows which put Hannah in a position strikingly similar to what she'd been in our bed, when her water had broken.

Then, while two other women dried her off, stroking her with soft towels, she held my hand and started pushing.

Ten minutes later our brand new daughter lay squalling in Snow Lily's hands, unhappy that her warm, safe chamber was gone.

Things had gone quickly, but I'd had time to call Caitlin and let her know that her mother was in labor. I had to leave a message because my call went to voice mail.

It turned out she'd been in class, where the professor got testy if phones rang, so she'd turned hers off. Then, when she called me back, I had my phone off, because I didn't want it interrupting Hannah's Zen-like concentration as she breathed her way through contractions.

So, since I wasn't answering, and Kat didn't know where we were, she simply came the house. That turned out to be about the time Elizabeth Renee came into the world, at which point I turned my phone back on and got Kat's message that she was on her way.

Rather than try to tell her how to locate the birthing center, I just went and got her. Hannah was resting, and little Elizabeth was already lying at her breast, suckling sporadically. Hannah was only producing colostrum, which only seemed to interest Lizzy as something to play with, rather than actually drink.

So, with Hannah and the baby in good hands, I went and got Timmy and took him to go get his sister. Or aunt. We weren't sure what to have him call her when he grew up.

Caitlin was beside herself when I arrived, and berated me for not giving her more information. She plied me for that as I drove her back to the birthing center.

Once there, I checked Timmy back into child care and took Caitlin to see her mother.

Elizabeth was sleeping, lying happily on her mother's chest, wrapped in a warm blanket.

So they talked. In one sense it was the first chance they'd had in a long time to just sit and talk. I was being ignored, which was fine. I was hungry anyway. There was a cafeteria in the place, somewhere, so I decided to go find it. I stepped outside and ran into Snow Lily.

"Thank you," I said. "How much do we owe you?"

"We'll talk about that later," she said. "You performed well. I was surprised."

I grinned. This was pure Snow Lily, willing to talk about anything, and saying exactly what was on her mind.

"Thanks," I said. "I'm hungry. You want to get something to eat?"

"Thank you, but no. I have things to do. She reached into a pocket. "Here is a list of things to stock for when Elizabeth comes home."

"I'll make sure we have everything," I said.

"I'm sure you will. You are not bad, for a man."

She was so serious I gave her a little bow and said, "I'm honored."

"You should be," she muttered, and moved off.

The birth had gone so smoothly that it was hoped Hannah could go home the next day. Poor Elizabeth never got to lie down to sleep. She ate about every hour, and when her mother wasn't holding her, Caitlin was. It wasn't that Kat hadn't been around a baby before. She'd been there when Timmy was born, and had helped take care of him before he and Hannah had moved to Oklahoma. But new babies exert a pull on most women. It probably has something to do with encouraging them to have their own.

That's not just an idle thought, by the way.

I say that because, when Kat finally gave up possession of Elizabeth, to let me take her back home to sleep, once we got there, she commenced to start the process of having her own.

We were tired. She was still filled with whatever hormones holding a new baby unleashes in a woman. And we didn't actually plan on making love right away. By that, I mean that, while we hugged and kissed, and she said she wanted to sleep with me that night, she also said, "But I'm too tired for sex right now. I'll be ready in the morning, though."

And that was fine with me. I was tired too. And I'd been spending a heck of a lot of time recently lying naked with Hannah and not having sex, so I was used to that concept too.

And that would have been fine, had we not awakened in the middle of the night and, half asleep, writhed against each other, coupling gently, almost accidentally, as suddenly my penis was inside her while our lips kissed hungrily. We weren't exactly awake, but we weren't asleep either.

And then I was awake, and hot breasts were pressed against my chest, and there was no belly full of baby in the way, and the urge to be on top flashed through me, and I rolled on top of her and started fucking her in earnest. And, whether it was the residual effect of those hormones I mentioned, or the fact that she hadn't been laid in quite a while, she responded with gusto.

It wasn't until she had spasmed her way through an orgasm, during which her pussy muscles milked the sperm from my balls, that we made the conscious observation that we'd forgotten the condom.

And, because it's easy to assume that cumming in her two or three times isn't any more dangerous than doing it once, we didn't install a condom on my cock the next two times we had sex again before we finally got dressed to go see if Hannah could come home.

It might also have had something to do with how she moaned, that first time I jetted in her, and whispered, "I'd forgotten how good it feels when you spurt in me."

Being astute readers, I'm sure you've already made the assumption that this short, repetitive failure to do what we'd always done before, bore, shall we say ... fruit.

And, being astute readers, you would be correct.

It turned out that Caitlin was ovulating that night. So her hormones were already at a peak, in terms of Mother Nature urging her to seek seed for her garden. Add in what she felt as she held Lizzy, and she was a goner.

And me? I'm just a man. Ask Snow Lily.

So I did what men do.

And, as one child was brought into the world ... we made another.

Of course nobody knew that then. But once Hannah was safely ensconced back home, Caitlin went back to school, saying she'd missed three classes already, and couldn't afford to miss any more.

Missing classes, as it turned out, weren't the only thing she missed.

She's not stupid. When, roughly two weeks later, she didn't start her period on time, she thought back to the primary reason why that might be. She was one of those girls you could set your clock by, in terms of her being "on time." And she'd never missed a period before this.

She decided, though, to wait and see, rather than to investigate.

Which is why she didn't get a home pregnancy test until a month later, when she missed another period.

I'll never forget her showing up, looking like her puppy got run over, and handing that wand to her mother.

"I made a mistake," she said, tears running down her cheeks.

Hannah looked at the wand, and set it aside. Lizzy happened to be eating at the moment, something I liked to watch, and not just because I like nipples and a little taste of sweet, warm milk now and then. So I was there.

"Have you been dating?" asked Hannah, quietly.

"No," said Caitlin, miserably.

Hannah turned her head to look at me.

"I thought you two used condoms."

"We do," cried Caitlin. "Except ..." She didn't finish. I spoke up. I wasn't going to make her do this alone.

"The night Elizabeth was born," I said. "We were tired, and just went to bed to sleep. But we woke up in the middle of the night. We were sleepy and didn't realize what was happening until it was too late."

Hannah blinked. Lizzy fussed, having lost the nipple, and Hannah coaxed it back into her mouth.

"Like mother, like daughter," she said.

"What?" That was Caitlin.

"I let him make love to me that one time, and Timmy was the result. The man's a satyr, Caitlin. You knew that."

"I know!" cried Caitlin. "And we were always so careful!"

"Except once."

Caitlin opened her mouth and, horrified, I expected her to say something like, "Well, it wasn't just once. He nailed me again in the morning, and then dumped another load in me just before we came to bring you home."

"Yeah," she sighed.

"And once is all it takes."

"Yeah." Another tear spilled out of the eye I could see, and ran down her cheek.

"Well, you were going to move in and live with us next year anyway," said Hannah, her voice businesslike. "And with Snow Lily being here, you can still go to school. This will not interrupt your education."

"Really?" Caitlin perked up. "I can still go to school?"

"Of course. Having a baby isn't the end of the world."

"But I wasn't ready to have a baby!" complained Caitlin.

"I wasn't either, but you don't hear me complaining."

"Mom! You complained constantly before Timmy was born!"

"That was before I was living with his father. Things are much better now."

I preened, but nobody noticed.

"This may, however, put a crimp in finding you a husband," said Hannah.

Caitlin looked startled.

"Husband? I don't want a husband!"

"Having a husband can be a wonderful, fulfilling relationship," said Hannah.

"Why would I need a husband?" asked Kat.

She looked at me.

"When I have Uncle Bob?"

I think what happened, in this situation, is that Caitlin did not spend enough time around her mother and me, to recognize that my sister and I now acted more like husband and wife, than brother and sister. As I said before, our sibling relationship was always there, under the surface, and it bound us together more than any spoken vows could have. But in our day to day activities, we had transitioned to being primarily mates, and parents to Timmy.

But because she hadn't seen this transition, or spent enough time with us to recognize it, Caitlin still saw me as ... unencumbered. I was her lover. I was also her mother's lover.

But in Caitlin's mind they were clearly sharing me.

And that meant that I was just as available to her, as I was to her mother. On a multitude of levels.

At the same time, she hadn't really thought about all this.

She was fully involved in being a teenager in college. She loved learning, and making new friends. She loved the social life she was involved in. She had lots of friends, both male and female. She was able to be friends with the males because she was "taken" and they knew that. They'd never met this mysterious man she loved, and was committed to, but they knew he existed. So the guys didn't have to play the social/sexual games they usually did, because Caitlin wasn't available. I'm sure they still lusted after her, but they didn't do anything about it. At least not with her.

Now, though, she had to think about the world in different terms. She had always planned on moving in with us during her sophomore year and, at least to some extent, leaving her carefree co-ed life behind. She just hadn't expected to be doing that while taking care of a baby.

At least not her own baby.

Now, she would finish her first year of college in May. And she would be seven months pregnant when she did that.

Snow Lily, as it turned out, was delighted. As soon as she found out Caitlin was pregnant, she started lobbying to be her midwife.

Hannah, as it turned out, processed things a little differently than I did. What that means is that nice little speech I gave you before, about us being more husband and wife than brother and sister was a little premature.

Well ... that's what I thought at the time. But Hannah wasn't right there with me.

Part of that was the fact that she gave Elizabeth my last name, just as she had Timothy. I thought that was all about how she felt about me. As it turns out, she simply felt that giving them Chad's name would not serve his memory, or serve them well in their own futures. And they were mine. When they went to school, I'd be the one going to parent/teacher conferences and all that, so it just made sense that their names should be the same as mine. That's what people expected, so that's what she gave them. So it had more to do with logic than emotion.

The other thing was that she knew that, regardless of how we lived, she could not marry me. So "marriage" wasn't how she thought about us. "Marriage" would have been a lot simpler for her, but instead, she patched together something that, in her mind, was analogous to classifying me as a "brother, with privileges." It was more complicated than that, but that's an easy way of stating it.

So, actually, when Caitlin said, "Why would I need a husband if I have Uncle Bob?" ... Hannah understood that.

Not that she jumped right on the bandwagon. That was part of what I meant when I said it was more complicated than that. But, over time, she adjusted to the idea that part of Caitlin's fantasies about me might include the idea that she thought of me more as a husband than an uncle. Or a guy she might think of as a husband half a dozen years from now. Or something.

But having a baby growing inside her changed things quite a bit.

This is all just a simple way of trying to explain what was an incredibly complicated meld of two women who loved each other, and a man they both loved, who happened to be the kind of man the American public would castigate for being in the position I was in.

Plus we were raising a bunch of babies together.

That's pretty much it. That's my attempt at explaining how all this happened.

Oh, there was more I could tell you about, but I'd be repeating myself. Caitlin came to live with us in May the next year, and Snow Lily got her in the birthing pool in July. She had a bouncing baby boy she named Charles Bradley. Unlike her mother, she decided his last name should be the same as her last name. I think that was just a product of her youth. She didn't think ahead like Hannah did.

It turned out not to matter, which is something I suppose I should tell you about before I let you go.

By the time Caitlin graduated with a degree in architecture, she still thought of me as filling the role of a husband. So much so that she convinced me to lie to the great state of Oklahoma in the application for a marriage license, and say we were not related. The clerk for the great state of Oklahoma, it turned out, didn't even look at the form. She just stated, in a bored voice that had said the same thing countless times before, that the license should arrive in two weeks, and that if it didn't, to contact them again.

Three weeks later Caitlin and I stood before a justice of the peace in Oklahoma City and we got married.

Do I feel bad about lying to the great state of Oklahoma?

Not really. And what are they going to do if they find out? You think lying on a form is going to make them any more disgusted than the fact that I got my niece pregnant twice?

Oh. I forgot that part too. Sorry. I just know this has been long, and probably boring, so I was trying to let you go on to other things.

Caitlin's second was a girl too. Like mother, like daughter, huh? We named her Catherine Jean. She was born after we were married, and I adopted Charles, which involved more lying. How was I supposed to explain how I was, in fact, the biological father of the boy I was asking to adopt, and then have to explain all that?

So anyway, we got married, and Kat graduated, and went into business with me. The house is full of happy, chattering kids, who have the best nanny in the civilized world. They love her and she loves them. The only problem is when some child yells "Mommy!" and wants something. First, you have to figure out which Mommy is being referred to. Plus, "Nanny" sounds a lot like "Mommy" when it comes out of a toddler's mouth.

And things are great. Both Hannah and Kat are on birth control, because the family is big enough for now. Possibly forever. But they don't want me to get a vasectomy yet. They said they'd let me know when.

So here I am. I have a great life, with a great business, and two great sister wives. I have smart, loving children. It all seems to be working out.

There was a time when I had thought how unworkable it would be to try to satisfy three teenage girls without falling in love with them, and they with me, ending up in some crazy polygamous lifestyle. I had known that would be impossible, that I could never make something like doing that with three women work.

But now there were only two women in my little harem.

And it was going really well. It turned out I could make that work.

So why am I spilling all this to you, like some poor, depressed guy buying too many drinks as he bends the bartender's ear?

Well, it seems that Ashley and Emma have graduated too. Ashley got a degree in landscape design, and Emma studied interior decorating.

Those extra rooms Hannah had me design into the house?

They were for Ashley and Emma all the time ... just waiting for them to earn their degrees so they could contribute to the business.

They're due to arrive next week.

And move in with us.

Kat casually mentioned that they never married, and have no boyfriends.

What the fuck am I going to do now?

The End

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