Orchard Flower (Version Charlie)

by Lubrican

Chapters : Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8-16 Available On

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Chapter Five

I don't know how often you've had a sexual fantasy about a woman, or a COUPLE of women, masturbated to completion while engaged in those fantasies ... and THEN sat down to eat with them.

It had never happened to me, and I almost couldn't figure out how the heck to act. It showed too, because Lynne stared at me, frowning. She couldn't look at my lap, because I was sitting down by then, but I got the distinct impression she would have, if she could have.

Jill seemed completely unconcerned and wolfed down her grilled cheese sandwich as if she had places to go and people to meet. It turned out she wanted to go for a ride after lunch. While we were moving the hay, I had left early because of my boner, so we didn't get it all moved. Instead of blaming me for that, she just said she was going to get it done after lunch so she could go have some fun.

"That's fine, Dear," said Lynne.



"Now that I'm sixteen, I can start going on dates ... right?"

Both Lynne and I stared at Jill. She had stopped inhaling the sandwich and was now nibbling at what was left. This was the first time a derivative of the word "date" had come out of her mouth, and it surprised both of us.

"I suppose so," said Lynne carefully. "Has a boy asked you out on a date?"

"No," she said. "Not since last year. Robbie Whitlock asked me out, but I told him I wasn't allowed to date and nobody's asked me since."

"Oh," said Lynne. "So are you going to ask Robby out now?"

"No," said Jill. "I don't want to go out with Robby. He's not my type."

"What is your type?" asked Lynne.

"I'm not sure," she said. "Except I know it's not Robby."

"Well before you go out on a date, we have to have a talk about ... things," said Lynne, in full mother mode now.

"I'm not going to have sex with anybody, Mom," said Jill, rolling her eyes.

"I know you're not," said Lynne firmly. "But you need to be aware that sometimes a boy will try things with you, and you need to know how to respond when that happens."

"Oh," said the girl. "Well ... OK then."

"You two can get the rest of the hay moved tomorrow. You can go for your ride after lunch. When you get back Bob and I will be ready to have that talk."

"Me?" I asked. I wished it wouldn't crack like that.

Lynne looked at her daughter. "Bob will help with a man's point of view," she said calmly.

Lynne asked me to help with the dishes when Jill got up to go saddle her horse. We stood side by side at the sink, with her washing and me rinsing and drying.

"You want to tell me about it?" she asked.

"Tell you about what?" I asked.

"About what was going on in your pants ... before lunch," she said calmly.

Busted! Damn! I tried to bluff.

"Oh that," I said, trying to sound like it didn't matter at all. "Happens sometimes. It's a guy thing."

"I know all about that kind of guy thing," she said. "I had a husband who loved showing me his when it got that way."

"Oh," I said, trying to get past this. "Well you don't have to worry about that. I won't try to show it to you."

"Thanks," she said, so dryly that I looked at her. "I don't know why this keeps coming up," she said. "I mean I know we've had this conversation before, but I've never seen you like THAT, Bob."

"It just kind of happened, and as soon as I realized it, I made an excuse and left so Jill wouldn't see it," I said.

"It just kind of happened," she said. She sounded unconvinced.

"OK look," I sighed. "We were moving hay and she started asking me questions. She's been watching Duke breed that stupid stray female. She wanted to know how often I had sex, and if men could do it as often as Duke does." I told her.

"You're kidding!" gasped Lynne.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" I shrugged. "When a pretty girl asks you how often you have sex ... well ... nature kind of kicks in."

"Was she teasing you?" asked Lynne.

"No, it was nothing like that. She was just curious, that's all. She sees things and she's trying to make sense of them. I think that's all it is."

"Well I don't want her being curious with boys on dates," said Lynne sternly.

"Well then tell her that," I said.

Now imagine being a man, in your forties, and suddenly being cast as the father figure to a sixteen-year-old girl you've already had fantasies about. And you're talking to her in partnership with her mother, who you've ALSO had fantasies about. You've had erections caused by both women.

Oh yes, and you're trying not to get another erection.

Actually, I did OK, but it was only because I was thinking about her being groped in the back seat of a car somewhere by somebody who was definitely not me. I didn't find that thought sexy at all.

Lynne was busy telling her that there would be all these feelings she hadn't felt yet, but WOULD feel, and they would happen without warning sometimes, and she'd be confused, at which point she'd be vulnerable to ...

She turned to me. "Tell her, Bob."

"Guys will try to cop a feel," I said, rather bluntly. "Lots of feels," I added.

Lynne frowned at me. I think she expected something a little more academic. But she adapted and went with it.

"Yes," she said. "And sometimes when they touch you, it feels nice, but if you let them do that they'll try other things, and THOSE things feel nice too, and it can get out of control very quickly."

"So don't let them cop feels," said Jill, as if she were taking notes.

"Right," said her mother. "And keep kissing to a minimum. I wouldn't even let a boy kiss you at all until the third or fourth date."

"Mom," said Jill, her voice plaintive. "Most of my girlfriends are giving blow jobs on the fourth date!"

"WHAT?!" Lynne's voice made me wince.

"I'm just telling you what they tell me," said Jill.

"NO BLOW JOBS!" yelled Lynne. She turned to me, looking panicked.

"No blow jobs!" I agreed firmly, though less loudly.

Lynne looked at me like "That's it? That's all you got?"

"And don't let them talk you into jerking them off either," I added, feeling proud of myself.

Lynne looked up at the ceiling, but her face jerked back towards Jill when her daughter said "Why not? My girlfriends all say that's the best way to control a guy."

Lynne spluttered for a bit and I realized I was going to have to step up.

"OK, look," I said. "All guys want to have sex with you, OK? It's just the way things are. And guys will do just about anything to try to talk a girl into having sex. They'll get you to do this little thing. They'll say nobody will find out, and it won't hurt anything. Then they add another little thing, and none of them seem all that bad, but they all lead further down the road, until the next thing you know you're in trouble. And what your mother is trying to say is that the best way to avoid all that is to just not start any of those things at all."

"Oh," said Jill, frowning slightly. "ALL guys want to have sex with me?"

"Pretty much," I said. "It's just the way men are made. Nature is responsible, and unfortunately you women have to figure out a way to live with it.

"That doesn't sound like much fun," said Jill doubtfully. "I mean what's the point of going out with a boy if I have to worry constantly about him trying to get in my pants?"

"Well," I said, "the purpose of dating is for you to be exposed to and get to know lots of boys. Sooner or later you'll meet one that you like a lot more than all the others, and eventually you'll fall in love. And THEN you can think about having a more serious relationship."

"Yes!" chirped Lynne, finally able to speak again. "He's right about that. Play the field. Keep it light."

That was pretty much it for our first sit-down talk with Jill. I felt like it had gone pretty well. Sure, there were some rough spots, but all in all I thought she got the message. And I thought I had made a comeback with Lynne, in terms of saying things in a way that more closely matched her own feelings.

What neither of us realized is that words can be spoken to mean one thing ... and heard to mean another.

And neither of us picked up the importance of one of the questions she asked: "ALL guys want to have sex with me?"

Jill did start dating and, like most other things Jill got involved in, she seemed to put her mind to it.

She went out with a different boy every weekend for the whole first semester of her junior year in high school. Of course there wasn't all that much to do out in the boonies, where we were, so about half the time she invited the boy to come to the ranch and go on a trail ride with her. She loved to ride, and a lot of the boys in the area rode too. Sometimes the date just involved going to a game with a boy, football in the fall, and then basketball later on.

But the point is that she rarely went out with the same boy more than twice, and if asked how a date went, her invariable answer was "OK."

Basically, for all the interest she'd shown in sex and dating ... it seemed to fizzle when it came to actually exploring those arenas.

Of course neither her mother nor I knew what she was actually doing on those dates. We would find out about that almost a year later.

In the meantime, another coincidence, of sorts, happened that would have a profound impact on our lives. Of course we didn't know that at the time, either. It was a small thing, a thing that happens tens of thousands of times a year.

Snow White had her litter of puppies.

It was the first time any of us had seen puppies being born. We all freaked out a little bit, but Snow White was so calm about it that it was impossible to stay freaked out for long. Duke was interested too, but only until he sniffed the first puppy to pop out. Then he went and laid down. I guess he figured he'd done his part.

Anyway, the three of us stood there, like anxious fathers, waiting for the outcome. She had seven puppies. The imagery was unmistakable. Jill with an awed voice, named them. And of course they were named Doc, Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Happy and Bashful. Neither Lynne nor I could argue about it.

Then Snow White left the script and had another puppy.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked. "Is that one the prince?"

"Of course not," she snorted. "Duke is the prince."

"Oh," I said, smiling. "I always wondered what the prince's name was."

Jill stared at the newest pup, being cleaned up by its mother.

"His name is Mortimer," she said firmly.

"Mortimer? Why Mortimer?" asked Lynne.

"Why not?" asked Jill back.

And that was that, or so we thought. At least until Snow White let us handle them.

"Um ... Bashful isn't a little boy puppy," I said.

"Doesn't matter," said Jill, without a pause. "Bashful can be a girl's name too."

We couldn't give them away. Not once they had been named like that. I mean you couldn't break up Snow White and her seven dwarves. And it seemed wrong, somehow, to give Mortimer away too. So we settled in to help Snow White raise her children.

That was to have a much stronger impact on Jill and Lynne than any of us could know then.

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