Bill 'N' Haley
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Small Breasts,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The continuing story of next-door neighbors and their off-beat life. Haley's turned sixteen and it's time to be married.
I didn’t get married on my sixteenth birthday.
I was already married. Bill knows it. Mom and Mister Steve know it.
“I’m glad, baby,” Mom said. “I wish I had your sense when I was your age.”
“Mom,” I said, “we talked about this before. People are not identical. You had your life. I have mine.”
“Yeah, baby, but I could’ve done better, y’know...”
“Mom, look at things right now. You’n’ Mister Steve have a GOOD marriage. You have a kid together. He loves YOU...”
“Warts ‘n’ all,” Mom said.
“He loves YOU. You love him. Little Steve’s in kindergarten and he’s a good kid, right?”
“So let’s not look back at stuff.”
Mom KNEW. Back when I was fourteen, she sort of knew that my Bill was more to me than the friendly guy next door who taught me chess and tutored me for school and paid me for helping him paint and do yard work and stuff.
She caught Bill in the yard one day and basically told him that she liked the way I was with him in my life and she didn’t want to change that in any way.
“She told me that she didn’t care if we were screwing each other silly,” Bill told me of the conversation.
That was the first night that Mom cut me loose to spend the night with Bill at his house.
She got me before I went over there and gave me the speech. “Haley, I kinda suspect that you ‘n’ Bill are more than just ‘friends’, baby.”
“Mooommmm,” I whined.
“I don’t want you to admit anything. You, you’re a good kid, and I think a lot of it is what you and Bill have together.”
“Mom,” I told her, “he’s good to me. Like Mister Steve is to you.”
“Baby, you’re fourteen ... boys your own age...”
“Would NOT treat me like Bill treats me.”
She looked at me, at first like she was going to yell, but then her face got all soft and motherly. “Not ‘Mister Bill’?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Best friend. Just ‘Bill’.”
“And you feel safe around him, don’t you?”
“Safest I’ve felt since you had to hold me and rock me to sleep when I got sick.”
“Not some stupid sex thing, baby?”
“No, not a stupid sex thing. That guy in the house next door treats me GOOD. He’s the one who helps me in school. He gives me as much of the world as we can get together.”
“You think you love ‘im, don’t you?” Mom asked me.
I didn’t verbalize. I just nodded my head.
“I was never in love when I was your age,” Mom admitted. “I ... I guess I was easy, Haley. It was fun and I had a lot of friends who’d take me places and...”
“I didn’t have to love Bill. Or do things. Well, maybe if you count the love between friends. But I absolutely DO love him.”
“And he loves you? He’s said it?”
I nodded again.
“You know how dangerous this all could be?”
“Yes, Mom. Bill told me. The people at school, too. But I love him and he loves me.”
“If he so much as touches you, you hold his life in your hands, precious,” Mom told me.
“I know. He told me that, too.”
“But you want to be with him.”
“You know, baby, I’m not stupid. I don’t care if y’all are fuckin’ each other silly, as long as it’s good for BOTH of you. I don’t want YOU hurt. And you could very well hurt him, aside from putting him in jail for years.”
“Mom, we never fucked.” I was being truthful. When Bill and I did it, it wasn’t ‘fucking’. I understand it to be magical and spiritual and wonderful and ‘fucking’ just doesn’t say that for me.
Mom smirked. “You know what I mean, girl. And if you got the chance to spend the night with him...”
“What about his daughter?”
“She doesn’t know. When the three of us go away for the weekend, she and I act like sisters. That’s all.”
“And you need to keep it that way.”
“Mom, I want to marry him.”
“When you’re sixteen, baby. If you’re still in love with him and he’s still in love with you, I’ll sign the papers.”
I jumped over and hugged her. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Now, if you showed up tonight with your school clothes for tomorrow, he’d be okay with that?”
“If you told him what you told me...”
“You don’t move in with him, baby. You LIVE here. When my sister comes over, you LIVE here. When his daughter comes over, you LIVE here. Okay?”
“I suppose that you need to go, huh?”
“I don’t want to act anxious.”
“Yeah, right, kiddo.”
I put my school clothes into the backpack I’d used as luggage on the overnight trips I’d taken with Bill and Deena and the ones where it was just Bill and me, and I headed for the front door.
“Where ya goin’, Haley?” Steve asked me.
“She’s gonna stay the night next door, Hon,” Mom told him.
“That thing we talked about?” he asked Mom. Mom nodded.
A minute later I walked in on Bill. He looked surprised.
“I’m spending the night.”
“Your mom knows?”
“She knows. I think Steve sort of knows.” I know he’s nervous, now, so... “What about dinner?”
“Let’s go find something before you have me committing a felony,” he laughed.
Out the door and into the car, then up the road we went.
“She was kinda blunt with me, Bill,” I said.
“She was blunt with me, too, sweetie,” he replied.
“It’s true, though.”
“The whole thing she told me. I really AM a good girl. I really AM a better student. And it’s YOUR fault.”
“No it’s not. I can’t make you smart and I can’t make you moral.”
“Yes you can. You did – the morality thing. You turn out to be the answer to this little girl’s temptations, baby. And you helped me get started on the school stuff. And I terribly forever love you.”
“I love you right back,” Bill said, squeezing my fingers.
That was the first night of MANY nights that I spent with my Bill in his house.
Yes, I know we’d gone off for a couple of weekends together. I told Mom that we were picking up his daughter to go with us. At the time, I thought I was being very clever and that she bought into the story. Now I’m not so sure. But here I was spending the first night in the very same bed where only a few months ago I had given him my virginity. We’ve worn that bed out, playing, exploring, learning each other, and now simply making love in a whole range of wonderful ways.
And that night, there was no “It’s eight o’clock. I need to go home, baby.” We showered, made love, went to sleep together, me backed up against him, his arms around me.
That’s why I say I didn’t get married when I turned sixteen. We were already married.
And that’s the way it was. If Mom’s sister and her family came over, I made an appearance. Sometimes, if they stayed late I’d even shower and change into my pajamas, just to keep up appearances. When they left, though, I could hardly wait until they turned the corner at the end of the street.
When it was Deena’s weekend with her dad, a couple of times we played ‘slumber party’, she and I staying up late watching movies with her dad.
Except ‘her dad’ was MY Bill. I’d manage to sneak a kiss before bedtime, and if we woke up before he did, we’d invade his bed. She’s his daughter. She’s there for the hugs from her daddy. I’m his mate. I could sneak a grope.
If I were like a lot of kids my age, things would have changed in the next almost two years. We’d’ve flared into a white-hot lust thing, then when I got bored, I’d’ve moved on.
I’m not like that. Two years added to the two I already had, when I started loving Bill before we started a physical relationship.
And I started my junior year in high school, and then I turned sixteen.
And on my sixteenth birthday, I got an engagement ring.
“You showed it to me, Bill. I never thought that you’d give it to me.” It’s his mom’s. I thought it was beautiful, but I never gave a thought to...
“Happy birthday, baby,” he’d told me in front of Mom and Steve and little Stevie. I squealed and kissed him.
We will actually be legally married this Saturday. This state has a three-day waiting period. Mom went with me and Bill to get a marriage license. There’s a three-day waiting period. The lady who issued the license dropped a bombshell on us.
“Just turned sixteen?”
“Yes, ma’am. Birth certificate right here,” I said. “Mom’s gonna sign for me.”
“You know, you could’ve married sooner if you’d’ve gotten a judge to issue an order.”
“We didn’t know that,” I said.
“Too late now,” Mom added. “She held off this long...”
I don’t know what I held off on. Bill and I have been solidly mated for two years, almost. But I didn’t say that, not in public.
Mom gave up a copy of my birth certificate and an affidavit stating that I had no known father to sign with her. Mom signed. Bill forked over the payment, and Bingo! It’s gonna happen. My dream’s coming true.
I wore my ring to school the next day because I absolutely LOVE it. My Bill gave it to me. We plan on putting it back up for safekeeping after we’re legally married. I want a gold band like Mister Steve gave Mom. But Tuesday morning I went to school with Bill’s ring on my finger.
I had no plans of announcing my change in status. First, for two years my relationship with my soon to be ‘official’ husband has been a felony offense for him. Second, I’m NOT normal when it comes to high school girls. I am completely monogamous. I am sane. I know girls who do two or three guys a week, sometimes in the same night. I do Bill.
I listen to the conversations and I don’t think any of them have ever had sex so completely overwhelming that they pass out and awaken with a lover gently caressing and kissing their faces. I haven’t heard ONE of them describe a dreamy afternoon in bed on a rainy day loving and teasing each other through several climaxes. I just don’t think any of them has it as good as me. I don’t get into those conversations, but I do listen.
I wasn’t going to say anything...
I didn’t make it through homeroom at the beginning of the day. Sharika’s a black girl who sits next to me for the fifteen minutes of homeroom. She eyed the ring.
“Girl, you wearin’ that ring on the wrong hand...”
“You s’posed to wear it on your right hand. On the left hand, that mean you engaged.”
“It’s on the correct hand, Sharika.”
“Whaa-aat?!? You ENGAGED?”
Sharika’s voice carries. She wouldn’t know subtle if it bit her on the butt, anyway, but she got excited.
“Not EVEN!” I blurted. “What kind of dumbass doesn’t know about birth control these days? Not to mention diseases...”
“He’s a high school dude? I didn’t even know you was datin’.”
“Nope. My next door neighbor.”
“College?” she pressed.
“Way past college. Mature. Kind. Good looking. Successful. And perfectly adorable.” I guess I smiled on the outside. Inside I was glowing, having FINALLY revealed to somebody the love I have for my Bill.
“How old IS he?” Sharika asked.
Ashley, on the other side, gasped. “Haley, that’s, like, old enough to be your DAD!”
I knew that would come up sooner more than later when the truth got out, so I was prepared. “No, Ash,” I said calmly. “Definitely NOT a ‘dad’ vibe there.”
The teacher raised her voice to silence the classroom (yeah, that works... ) and took roll call, read a couple of announcements and the bell rang for the first class. I left the classroom. Normally I head up the hall to an advanced placement (Yeah! ME! In AP classes! Tell me that Bill’s not good for me in soooo many ways.) class – math, actually. Normally I just play mousey little Haley and walk by myself.
Not today. Sharika and Ashley attached themselves to my side.
“Girl, you gotta give us de dope. You ain’t NEVER dated,” Sharika spoke.
“Yeah, you know. SOME people thought you was, like, lezz...” Ashley added.
“Nope. I heard the gossip. Very solidly hetero,” I answered. “Seriously, I just never wanted to play the game with THESE guys.” I nodded in the direction of a couple of Sharika’s dreams, football players, affecting as much of a gangsta air as they could while wearing the school uniform. “Or THOSE.” Our school’s district encompassed a good bit of rural area along with the suburbs and some apartment complexes and we really had an eclectic mix. The second bunch I pointed out were on the opposite end of the high school social spectrum, as stereotypically redneck as, again, they could be wearing navy blue knit shirts and khaki slacks.
“Just not something I’m interested in.”
“Well, uh ... HOW...” Ashley stuttered, stopping us in the hall.
“How’d YOU ... I’m sorry. I mean, you’re kinda skinny an’ flat an’ no makeup...”
“Ashley, there’s more to it than ‘Girl, you’re HOT... ‘ My guy and me, we just fit together ... He’s my tutor and my friend. First. And that part keeps going ... We have a great thing working, WITH our clothes on.”
Ashley looked a little taken aback. She’s pretty enough. I do envy her side of that ‘flat’ comment. She’s not HUGE, but she fills her bra out in an obvious manner. Sharika’s well on her way to that ‘plump’ thing that a lot of black girls do. She’s got a shape, and like they say, “Baby’s got back.” Me, yeah I’ve heard the comments since I hit puberty.
Puberty. Now that thought enters my head and I remember that it wasn’t but a couple or three months after my first period that I went next door to help Bill wash his car. I smiled. He’s been right there from when I had a whole dozen pubic hairs (and he did NOT know that little fact) until yesterday afternoon when we got our marriage license. Other girls went through puberty and grew tits ‘n’ stuff and little ol’ Haley just got to a great big A cup and stopped. Well, depends on the bra. A B-cup works at the right time of the month.
And you know what? Bill LOVES me. Just like I am. We’ve talked. He worried about that age thing. I worried about my androgynous figure.
I haven’t found anything lacking in his age. More likely, his maturity and experience and life knowledge makes our life together MORE interesting. He loves every inch of my body. My poor, sub-sized titties? He adores them. All of me? We laugh. I wrap my legs around him, he holds me, carrying me around the house, both of us naked, enjoying each other. I honestly can’t imagine the physical dimension of our relationship being ANY better, except that after Saturday we’ll be able to display affection in public. I don’t mean humping on a park bench, you know. I do mean holding hands, chaste embraces and kisses in appropriate venues and NOT having to play dad and daughter or whatever.
“You hushed up, girl,” Sharika said. “We didn’t hit a nerve, did we?”
I smiled. “Oh, noooo. You just caused me to think of some things. Happy things.”
“Yaknow,” Ashley said, “I always wondered why you always seemed, I dunno, just sooo happy. I mean, I thought, you know, straight As. That’d make me happy. But you never did all that shit, chasin’ boys, getting caught. Now I understand, I think.”
We split paths. Neither of those two was going to my advanced placement math class. Matter of fact, I was the only student in the class who wasn’t a senior. But that’s okay. I slid into my chair, opened my notebook and while the rest of the class was filing in, I let myself daydream about me and my Bill. Ashley and Sharika just didn’t get it. I don’t think anybody does, not here in school.
I shouldn’t be surprised at the speed at which gossip spreads. By lunchtime it was all over school. Several girls with whom I’ve had ongoing friendships sat with me, asking details.
“Angie, I don’t do details like that, but no ... sex is off the table. I just turned sixteen a week ago. Before that, I couldn’t GET married, and you all know that sex between an adult and a person younger than seventeen is a felony.”
“Yeah, and EVERYBODY obeys THAT law. Just like weed is illegal...” Jessica injected.
“Not saying NOTHING,” I countered.
“They say he’s OLD,” Jessica stated.
“His own house ‘n’ stuff, then,” another girl posed.
“He’s my next door neighbor. He has his own house. He’s got a GOOD job. He’s stable.”
“Except for seducing teenaged girls,” Angie replied.
“He didn’t seduce me. You know my neighborhood. Nobody my age there on that road. He started out as my tutor and my friend, since I was twelve...”
Jessica gasped, “He’s been doin’ you since you were TWELVE?”
“He had never DONE me, Jess,” I replied. “You didn’t listen. Friends. Buddies. Partners. Wonderfully treated, the way you’d think people would want to be treated by one another to make a marriage.”
“You’re serious,” Jessica said.
“Toldya so,” popped Ashley. “Girl’s got it bad.”
“And ... NOT pregnant?”
I shook my head. “Like that means anything, anyway, Jess. How many girls do we KNOW of?”
“Too many. Ain’t none of ‘em getting married, ‘cept Callie. Her dad’s a preacher and he MADE her marry Brandon.”
“And they’re living with her folks,” I elaborated. “Wonderful, ain’t it?”
“I do think she loves ‘im,” Angie replied. “An’ him, he’s just goofy enough to make it work.”
I sighed. “He’s a senior in high school. If it weren’t for their parents, they’d starve under a bridge somewhere. Good thing they have family. I have Bill. I have family, too, but I have Bill.”
“You got pictures?” Ashley asked.
I nodded, pulled my iPhone out of my backpack, punched at the screen. I have lots of pictures of Bill – dressed up, lounging around in shorts under the shade tree, reading, even shirtless, doing yard work. I showed them around.
“Not bad looking,” Ashley said, “For an older dude...” She fixed me with an eye. “You gotta be in love, though.”
I smiled. Now I can admit the specifics. “I am. He is.”
“So when’s the wedding? One of those BIG things? Are we invited?” Angie was asking for the group.
“No, it’s not going to be a big deal. Mom and Steve and little Stevie, Maybe Bill’s daughter...”
“Wait – wait – wait, girl. He got a daughter?”
“Yeah. Two years younger than me.”
“That’s gonna be STRANGE!”
“I dunno,” I said. “We haven’t told her yet. But if she’s still my friend, come Saturday, we’ll ask her to be there with us.”
Between my fifth and sixth hour class, the school guidance counselor caught me in the hall. “Haley, can we talk for a minute?” Mizz Dasson and I know each other pretty well, based a lot on interactions about my class work and status as an elite student.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. My last hour’s class was world history, and honestly, it’s a snoozer. The teacher’s doing the best he can with it, but out of two dozen students, maybe three care for anything more than a grade good enough to pass the class. I followed Mizz Dasson back to her office.
“Close the door, please, Haley.”
I closed the door.
“Sit down. Be comfortable.” I sat across the desk from her. She scooted her chair from behind it, moving closer to me.
“Haley, I heard you’re getting married. And now I see your ring. May I look closer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, extending my hand.
“This is REAL.”
“Yes, ma’am. My fiance’s mother wore it. Now I’m wearing it.” I thought for a second, then decided to add a detail. “That’s a full carat. And eighteen carat gold.”
“It’s worth a fortune...”
“Bill’s priceless,” I said softly.
“Haley, you’re a bright star in my school universe. Is everything okay with you? I mean, married?”
“Mizz Dasson,” I replied gently, “A very good part of the reason I do well as a student is that Bill has been in my life. He started tutoring me when I was in the seventh grade.” I paused, remembering those first days. “At first, he made up for the education I couldn’t get in the classroom. Then he sort of showed me that there was life to learning, that I could learn things and aspire to more than a high school diploma and a cashier job at the grocery store. He’s an engineer. He KNOWS things, and he loves learning and now I love learning.” I paused. “And I love Bill. Being married to him is exactly right.”
“You’re very sure?”
“Mizz Dasson, you know me. You’ve met Mom and Mister Steve. I love ‘em. Mom’s done her best with me and Mister Steve’s broke all those ‘evil stepdad’ rules. I see their struggles, though. Mister Steve’s a welder. He works very hard, but if work’s not there, money’s tight. I’d be at the same level in life, you know, just like a lot of kids here. But Bill came along. And THEY know about Bill. Mom had to sign off on the marriage license.”
“It’s my place to worry about my students, Haley. I heard and I immediately thought ‘exploited’.”
I smiled a bit. “Mizz Dasson, I am horribly exploited. Nobody in my life knows how to exploit me except my little brother. He’s a brat.”
“I heard your Bill was older.”
Another reason to smile. “Yes, ma’am. Forty-one. Almost the answer to life, the universe, and everything.”
She smiled. “Douglas Adams. Cute. So is this going to change your academic aspirations?”
“Mizz Dasson, I’m marrying the guy who GAVE me academic aspirations.”