Fooling Around 101 - Version Bravo

by Lubrican

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

Chapter Six

Two hours (and at least seven orgasms) later we went to get the boys and take them to visit their mother.

I dropped them off at the hospital, telling them I'd be back in two hours. I had an appointment with a prospective client's attorney.

My job is one I made up. I'm a mechanical engineer and one day while I was trying to assemble something, I thought of a much better way to design some of the parts. So I drew the designs, made prototypes, and applied for patents on them. Then I went to the company and presented my new and improved parts. They sent me to their engineering department. I demonstrated that what I had designed was far superior to the originals, and would cut down on warranty claims. The engineer who had designed the original part told me to eat shit and bark at the moon, but the company CEO had showed up to watch, and overruled him. He basically said that an engineer's job was to recognize better ways to do things, and if he couldn't do that, then he should think about finding a job somewhere else.

I sold that patent for enough to quit my job and look for other things to improve on. Since 50% of all engineers graduate in the bottom half of their class, but get hired to design things anyway, I didn't have that much trouble. I didn't always sell the idea. But even that was to my advantage once. The company got sued, and the lawyer suing them found out about my improved part that they hadn't bought. He called me to testify that they could have avoided injuring his client if they'd have bought my patent. I had asked a thousand dollars for that patent, and when the case was over, the client gave me ten thousand.

The point is that I work as much as I want to, and not on a schedule of any kind. So it was no problem for me to plan on spending time getting them all back on their feet. They were going to need another car, and until they got one I was their primary source of transportation. Living on their father's life insurance and Jill's small salary, they hadn't been able to afford cars for the kids, like happens in some families.

It turned out, however, that my lack of a schedule would be much more important than I could have ever imagined.

I went back to the hospital to collect the kids. Jill looked much better and was smiling and talking a lot more. It was obvious she was enjoying their presence, but I could see the fatigue in her face, so I told the kids it was time to go and let her rest.

"You kids go ahead," she said. "I need to talk to Bob about something."

"Something we can't hear about?" asked Dennis, making his eyebrows rise and fall like Groucho Marx. I would remember that later.

His mother said "Something you don't need to hear about."

They left and she looked uncomfortable. I just waited.

"They're talking about letting me go home, but there are stipulations," she said.

"What kind of stipulations?" I asked.

"I'll have to have what they call in-home care for at least six weeks."

"What kind of care?" I asked.

"I need help to move around. I can't dress myself yet, or get to the bathroom without help. I have to be bathed, that sort of thing. They have a list of companies that provide that kind of thing, but it's awfully expensive."

"You don't have to pay somebody to do that," I said. "That's why you put all that effort into your kids ... so they can grow up and take care of you in your old age ... right?" I grinned.

"The boys are going to live in the dorm the first year. Besides, I have a hard time envisioning them giving me a sponge bath, you know? Cindy is going to be in school all day." She looked uncomfortable again. "I hate to ask ... but I was wondering if maybe I could get a loan from you. I'll pay you back. It will take some time, but I'll pay you back ... with interest."

I thought about that. I had just closed one deal that had me sitting pretty, so the money was no problem. But that thought only sat there long enough to be acknowledged.

"Don't be silly," I said. "You can borrow me instead."

She blushed. I didn't get it until I remembered the comment about the sponge bath. "Cindy can take enough time out of the day to give you a sponge bath," I said, hastily. "I can do the rest."

"I have to tell you something," she said, suddenly.

"Okay," I said.

"You know how I approved of you ... um ... teaching Cindy ... things."

Now I blushed. If only she knew how much I'd taught her daughter. I nodded.

"Well ... part of the deal ... part that we didn't tell you about ... was that I wanted to know what was going on. I felt like I needed to know how much she was ... um ... learning."

I got a little dizzy. Images of what we'd done flashed through my mind. In one of them my naked ass was sticking up in the air while I licked her pussy.

"Oh boy," I said.

"It's actually been wonderful," said Jill, her voice sounding odd. "I mean sharing things with her as she discovered them ... I can't describe it. Every mother should get the chance. I know that sounds crazy, but it's been so good to be able to be there if she had a question. It was awkward, at first, but now we talk like best friends. I was worried about all this, at first. But not any more. It's been good for her. She's so comfortable with things that I struggled with, even after I got married. As unconventional as this has been, it has been good for her. I just know it has."

"I'm glad you feel that way," I said, weakly. I was fully aware that Cindy hadn't had time to talk to her mother about the previous night. Her brothers had been there the whole time.

"The point is, Bob," she said, blushing again. "I think, I know you pretty well anyway, and based on the way my daughter has talked about you, I could probably endure letting you give me a sponge bath ... if it came to that."

I sat there and blinked. There was a lot going through my mind.

"We can discuss that later," I said. "For now, let's get you home, where you'll be in familiar surroundings, and can relax without someone waking you up to take your temperature and pulse."

"Okay," she said. Her voice was strained. The atmosphere felt strained too. I didn't like that, but I needed more time to reflect on what she'd said.

And why she'd said it.

The kids were elated that their mother was coming home, even though I made it quite clear she would not be doing anything to take care of them, and that their job, when home, was to take care of her. Getting her settled in was pretty easy. The nurses had dressed her before she left the hospital with clothes Cindy had picked out and taken in. She wasn't supposed to walk on the leg cast yet, but I was able to borrow a wheel chair from the hospital. They made me leave my driver's license there, but I didn't care. It beat renting one for three hours.

Once we got her comfortable in bed, the boys went about getting her set up with a TV and radio. They found a little souvenir bell from a trip somebody had made to Boston, and gave that to her to ring if she needed anything. I took the wheel chair back and when I got back to their house everybody seemed to think things were fine.

The next order of business was getting a car for the boys to go to college with. I took care of that, calling it their birthday present, the next time they had a birthday. What I got them was ten years old, but low mileage. They said I could use their room while I was taking care of their mother and a week later they drove off to college. They were still banged up, but could cope with starting school.

Cindy's reaction to all this was interesting. She helped with her mother a lot. For example, she gave her mother the first sponge bath, and did a lot of the cooking. And, of course, she was there in the evenings and at night, which let me go do things I needed to do to keep my own business running.

The first night after the boys had left, Cindy approached me in the kitchen and put her arms around me for a deep, loin-stirring kiss.

"You don't actually have to sleep in the boys' room, you know," she said.

"Yes I do," I said. "Remember?"

She put her mouth into a little moue. "Yes," she admitted.

"Your mother told me that you have ... um ... shared with her, the things we have done."

Her eyes went round. "She told you?"

I nodded.

"That was supposed to be our secret," said Cindy.

"Keeping secrets from me?" It was my turn to pout.

"We were afraid it would freak you out," she said.

I blinked. "I guess it did, a little bit." I frowned. "So ... did you tell her ... everything?"

She looked at me through lowered lashes. "You mean the other night."

"Yes," I said, feeling my cock react to the memory of being in her.

"No," she said.

"Keeping secrets from her too?" I asked.

"Well ... you said it yourself. We weren't supposed to go that far. I was afraid it would freak her out."

"Yeah," I said.

"Do you think I should tell her?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I sighed. "This whole thing has been way different than I expected it to be."

"You're not alone there," she said. "I want to do it again ... really a lot!"

"Of course you do," I said. "That's Mother Nature, trying to get you knocked up."

"You could put on a condom," she suggested.

"I could. I thought you didn't want to feed the addiction."

"I don't know what I want," she moaned. "Well, I know what I want. I want to sleep with you, and do it all night long. But I also know that's not a good idea."

"Welcome to the world of having to make adult choices," I said, smiling wanly.

She folded her arms under her breasts, looking un-amused.

"I think I'm going to go surf the net for a while ... maybe order me a great, big vibrator or something."

"Now, you're playing it smart," I said, grinning.

She wasn't mad. I knew this by the good night kiss I got, which involved her hand finding my half-hard cock and giving it a good squeeze.

I went to see what Jill needed. She was watching America's Got Talent on TV. There was a guy on there playing an array of old time car horns, using his armpits to squeeze the bulbs. He got three Xes.

"How you doing?" I asked.

I'm bored," she said. "Have you seen Cindy?"

"She just went to bed," I said.

"Oh. I was going to have her get me ready for bed."

"I can do that."

She stared at me. "It involves taking my clothes off, Bob. Are you comfortable doing that?"

I blinked. "I'm a big boy," I said.

"Yes." But that's all she said.

It didn't happen like I thought it would. I was trying to figure out how to get her sweat shirt off with her lying down, when she grunted and threw her legs to one side, cast included. Then she groaned and sat up, sideways. She was in good shape before the accident. She even went out running with Cindy once in a while. But she usually walked for exercise, and did yoga. She held both arms straight up and said "Pull my shirt off, please."

I don't know why I was expecting her to be wearing a bra. But she wasn't. With her arms up, her breasts were pulled up too, and her nipples were looking off in vaguely opposite directions. She had breast fed all three children, so when she lowered her arms her breasts sagged a bit, but they still looked good. Cindy's nipples were so pink it was almost shocking sometimes. Her mother's were the color of red wine. Where Cindy's were about the diameter of a number two pencil when they were erect, Jill's were twice that size around, and looked like itty bitty tin cans, made of flesh, perched on areolas that were large and dark.

"They got ugly when I used them for nursing," she said, her voice low.

"They're not ugly," I said, automatically.

"Yes they are," she said.

"I believe I'm the resident expert on whether breasts are ugly or not," I said.

"How do they compare to Cindy's?" she asked, something in her voice that sounded like both interest and fear at the same time.

"They're different," I said. "It isn't fair to compare them to any other breast. These are yours, and you are unique among all women."

"You are so full of it," she said, but she smiled.

"Trust me, there's nothing wrong with your breasts," I said, looking her straight in the eye. I wanted to lick my lips, but I caught myself in time.

She didn't make any reply, but fell backwards. I lifted her legs for her and got her in the middle of the bed.

"No jammies?" I asked.

"Why put them on?" she said. "Somebody will just have to take them off in the morning."

"True," I said. "What about the shorts?"

Her eyes glittered up at me. "May as well take them off. I'm going to have to go to the bathroom before I go to sleep anyway."

That was when I learned that Jill shaved. Or had shaved some time in the recent past. She had stubble now. Her pussy lips looked like an inner tube that the air has come out of, like they had been full and pouting, like her daughter's, but had gotten floppy over the years. I glanced at her face. She was staring right at me.

"Other than Randy and my gynecologist, you're the only man who's seen me like this."

Her mention of my brother cooled my emotions a bit.

"You think he's watching us right now?" I asked.

"I hope so," she said.

I blinked. "Wow."

"You're surprised? I still miss him every day," she said.

"It's just that ... um ... with you like this ... I guess I feel a little bad."

"What an interesting compliment," she said, smiling. "I don't think Randy would begrudge ... this." She paused. "He always wanted me to be happy."

"I guess I'm a little freaked out that ... um ... this ... makes you happy," I said.

"It's not that this makes me happy, Bob. What makes me happy is that I'm not uncomfortable about it. I was sure I would be. I was sure I'd feel awful if you had to see me like this. But I was wrong. I don't understand it, but I'm not going to worry about it either. You have no idea what a load off my mind it is that I'm lying here naked, in front of you, and it's not freaking me out. I suppose it has something to do with the fact that you've seen Cindy like this ... many times."

"I'm delighted you're not freaked out," I finally said. "As for me, I'll work on not being freaked out as soon as I stop being quite so freaked out."

She laughed. Then she sobered and said "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

"For looking at me like that. I never thought I'd enjoy having a man looking at me like that after Randy died."

"My pleasure," I said. I was babbling, and I knew it, but I didn't care, because she didn't care.

You know what I mean?

It's a complicated situation when there are things going on at the same time that both excite you and do the opposite.

Take, for instance, getting her to the bathroom to pee before she went to bed.

That involved carrying her, naked, to the bathroom, which was entirely enjoyable. I won't lie about that. Then I stood there while she tinkled. I should have left, and let her do that in private, but I was too rattled to think of that, and she didn't ask me to. I think she waited as long as she could to go, because she went a long time.

Call it an odd impulse, but I reached for the toilet paper, intending to wipe for her. But she still had one good arm, and she neatly plucked the paper from my hand, said, "Thank you," and spread her legs to wipe. Right in front of me. In the process of doing this, she farted.

That part wasn't so exciting.

Then it was carry her back to the bed and lay her out. There was this cream we were supposed to massage into her back that was supposed to ward off bed sores, and she pointed that out and rolled over, lifting the arm in the cast above her head.

She had a nice butt. Cindy's was a little sparse on the cushion, probably because she was so athletic. She had a bubble but, but it was a very slim, tight bubble. Her mother's butt, on the other hand, was lush and round, looking soft. I was thinking about that so much that I just smeared the lotion all over that too, and rubbed it in.

Her gasp alerted me that I might have crossed a line.

"Sorry," I said.

"It's okay," she said, her voice strained. "I suppose that everything that touches the sheets is supposed to be massaged."

I left off groping her ass and made sure her back got well massaged. Then I did the back of her thighs and her calves. On impulse, when I got to the feet, I picked one up and started kneading it.

"Oh damn," she sighed. "That feels so good!"

So I did the other one too.

When I was finished, she lay there, relaxed. "I don't want to move," came her muffled voice.

"You want me to cover you up?" I asked.

She rolled over as she said "No," and wiggled a bit, to get into a comfortable position. Her breasts shook like they were made of Jell-O. I noticed her nipples were even firmer looking than before. I got the sheet, which was all she wanted, and pulled it up to her chin. Again, on impulse, I leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Tomorrow I want you to wash my hair," she said.

"Will do," I replied. I stood up.

"I don't think he minds what you did tonight, Bob."

I didn't quite know how to feel about that. While she might be getting something from Randy's spirit, I never had. I hoped he was comfortable, and I told him I missed him. But I never felt him answer me.

She sounded awfully sure, though.

"I'm glad," I finally said. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

I turned off the light, and left.

Guess who I found right outside her door. Go on. I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count.

What am I thinking? You know the boys were at college, and that Cindy was the only other person in the house.

She just looked at me, blinking. So I just looked at her.

"That was nice," she said.

"Was it?"

"You were very nice to her." She looked like she might start crying.

"Do you always spy on your mother?"

"Only when I go to bed and then remember she needs help getting ready for bed herself. Only when I get up and find that she's naked with my tutor."

"Are you jealous?" I asked, not smiling at all. Cindy wasn't supposed to get a crush on me. She was supposed to go on about her normal love life, knowing much more than other girls her age, but still engaging in age-appropriate relationships.

"Yes and no," she said. "Yes, because I want you and I can't have you. No, because if I can't have you, I can't think of any woman who deserves you more than she does."

"Don't jump in the deep end, sweetie," I said. "Just because I saw your mother naked and carried her to the bathroom doesn't mean there's going to be any hanky panky."

She snorted. "When my mother said you could teach me things, you could have knocked me over with a feather. She is very conservative and you know that, too. I've seen her wear shorts, and skirts that show her knees, but I've never seen her in a bathing suit, much less a bikini. Around the house she is always fully dressed, even if the boys are gone. The first time I ever saw her naked was when I got her ready for bed after she left the hospital. And when I helped her to the bathroom, she told me to wait outside. And now ... she gets naked ... in front of you?"

"Maybe she took too many pain killers," I suggested.

"I'm horny."

"I don't have any condoms yet."

"You could ... lick me."

"And when I did, I'd remember sliding my aching boner in your sweet pussy, and want to do that again. I'd get you all hot and bothered and suck your sweet little clitty until you were right in the middle of a nice, bone shaking orgasm, and then I'd slip up and poke you but good."

"Mmmm. Now I'm really horny," she sighed. She kissed me. It was a mighty fine kiss. She had been getting A+ at kissing for most of a year now.

"I'll make you a deal," I said, pulling out my secret weapon.

"Okay," she said.

"I'll suck your pussy ... if you suck my dick."

I expected her to back off. Actually, I expected her to make unhappy sounds and get mad at me. She had said, several times, how she couldn't understand why some of her friends said they liked to take something like that into their mouths. I hadn't pushed it. It wasn't really necessary. There are lots of girls who don't like to go down on a guy. So she wouldn't be alone in the world.

The problem is, she didn't get all freaked out. Instead, she thought about it.

"You're supposed to say no," I encouraged.

"I know what you're trying to do," she said, arching one eyebrow. Then: "Okay, I'll do it."

I stared at her. "You must be horny," I said.

"But you have to rub my feet like that too," she added.

"You saw that?"

"It sounded like she was having an orgasm!"

Ten minutes later, it sounded like Cindy was having an orgasm too, as she found out how good it feels to have the bones in your feet moved around, and the tendons stretched. Our feet get a lot of abuse on a daily basis, and they rarely get any love.

Cindy would have let me do anything I wanted to after fifteen minutes of being naked and getting a foot massage. Of course she was horny to begin with. But I knew better than to put my dick in her. If I did, I'd spurt in her too. The urge was incredible even without being in her.

So I lay down on the bed with my head by the feet I'd just massaged, and pulled her over me into the classic 69 position.

"I don't know what to do?" she complained, as her head got positioned above my erect penis.

"Just jerk it with your hand, like you would normally, and suck on the knob at the end," I said. That might not have been the most romantic way to put it, but I was in a hurry. I needed to get off, before the urge to do that in her belly got even stronger. Then I went to work on her pussy.

Cindy will always make the man who goes down on her feel like a king. She is appreciative, both in speech and action. You know how you hear about women who are "born to suck cock"? Well that might sound like a misogynistic thing to say, but the fact is, I couldn't possibly have taught Cindy how to suck (my) cock better than she did when she was motivated to learn all by herself.

She later told me that after forcing herself to push her lips over the head of my penis, she was so shocked at how wonderful it felt in her mouth, that all she cared about, for half a minute, was seeing how much of it would fit in her oral cavity. About then, what I was doing to her clit got through to her brain, and she entered a world she'd never been in before, where what I was doing created orgasms, which were intensified by what she felt in her mouth.

All this created something that happens in some women a lot, but in most women only rarely. She had a female ejaculation, and her paraurethral ducts unloaded something delicious into my mouth.

And then, as if a switch had been thrown, I felt the rush of soothing semen coursing through my shaft and I gurgled, as I tried to swallow her offering, but there was no way I could warn her in time. She was deep in her own orgasm, though, and I never felt the heat of her mouth leave my penis as it fired off its reciprocal orgasmic shots. I found out later that she swallowed by simple reflex, and by the time she had the opportunity to think about it, her brain had already told her it liked the taste of (my) semen.

We both shook and shimmied through our orgasms before I pushed her off of me, more to make sure her pussy didn't suffocate me - she was still humping my chin - than because I wanted to break physical contact with her. But I was wasted, and just wanted to breathe, so I rolled her onto her back. She sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Turns out oral sex makes her perky. Go figure.

She licked her lips and swallowed again.

"Actually ... it's not so horrible," she said, looking completely surprised. "Betty Simms says she likes the taste, and I always thought she was lying. But it's not so bad, really."

She grinned, suddenly.

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