Chapter 17

Beth had delivered Thomas at three in the afternoon, and Emma had her baby at seven-thirty the same day. Everyone was pleased that the babies had the same birthdate, like their mothers did. Emma named her baby Heather Renee Cunningham, after her maternal grandmother and her best friend and study partner in college. Heather was exactly seven pounds, at birth, and was eighteen inches long. For those in the family, having Cunningham as a last name was very appropriate because Heather had masses of black hair and was obviously Bob’s. Even Paul said that, later. The only person in the conglomerate of families who did not reflect on this was Muriel. Rather, if she noticed that Heather looked more like Bob than her son, she never voiced that. Beth’s little boy, on the other hand, was a bigger, heavier child, with thin brown hair and everyone agreed (either aloud or silently) that Paul was his father. Bob would be heard to mutter that it was good Paul had joined the family, since he was the only man who appeared to be able to sire sons.

Regardless of this, everyone welcomed the babies and loved them unconditionally. The twins needled each other a bit, with Beth accusing Emma of trying to one-up her by having such a short labor and Emma complaining, “You just had to have a boy and mess up a perfectly good matriarchal family.”

Paul wasn’t used to babies at all, and had a bit of difficulty adapting. He was saved by Bob who, at the behest of the girls and his wife, furnished one of the extra bedrooms so that the grandparents could “vacation” at the farm and help out. It didn’t make much difference to Bob and Julie because Bob could work from anywhere on his laptop. Having the extra help there made things much better and Paul got a crash course on diapering and cuddling and even how to help the women express milk so that, when they went back to work, if they didn’t have time to breastfeed directly, the babies would still have breast milk until evening, when they could again latch onto a milky nipple and suck.

For once the twins did things differently. For reasons nobody knew, their sleep schedules were not in sync after the women gave birth. So if a baby needed feeding, whoever was awake would offer a nipple and let the baby suck. Julie offered some assistance in teaching them how to feed two babies at once, and it wasn’t unusual for one of the women to have a baby in each arm, sucking from both breasts. The children were treated, for all intents and purposes, like twins and that would continue clear through their teens.

For now, though, there were endless diaper changes and cuddling and feeding. The twins wore loose robes that allowed them to bare a breast easily. Both Paul and Bob looked at those breasts, and the nipples they had sucked for years, but which now belonged to the babies. Each man would get a taste of that milk, from both sources, but only a couple of months later, when they could cuddle with both their babies and the mothers of those babies.

Paul, of course, slept with both women when no grandparents were around. When Muriel was there to offer her own hand, Emma slept in the room reserved for her, but that only happened a few times because Muriel still had to go to work in the evenings. The few nights she spent there, she slept in the room usually occupied by Bob and Julie.

Two months later Paul was fully acclimated to having children around him. He delighted in playing with both of them and noting (on a professional basis, he claimed) how different their personalities were.

“They’re as different as you two are alike,” he said, one day, when both Emma and Beth were in the room.

“They’re not twins,” said Emma, instead of pointing out they had different fathers.

“I love it that they’re different,” said Paul. “I love it that you two are so similar, but it’s cool having the opposite in our family, too.”

“All the children we have will be different,” said Beth.

“How many more are you thinking?” asked Paul.

“None right away,” said Emma. “We’re getting IUDs implanted again.”

“You can try as hard as you want to,” said Beth, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Her libido had returned in full force. Six weeks to the day after she gave birth she had climbed on top of Paul in bed that night and said, “Since we’re breastfeeding it should be safe for you to spurt in me again.”

Lying next to them Emma had commented, “That’s not a reliable form of birth control, little sister. We need to get protected again.”

“Our last protection didn’t do much good,” said Beth as she impaled herself, carefully, on the first penis to enter her since a baby came out of the same canal.

“Of course it did. We didn’t get pregnant for eight years,” said Emma.

“It doesn’t hurt,” purred Beth. “I’m so glad it doesn’t hurt.” She started rocking.

“Hurry up,” said Emma. “You’re making me horny.”

Paul suddenly said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It just feels too good after all this time.”

Beth sped up and leaned forward to scrape her clit along his tube while it was still hard. As he gasped, groaned and shot off in her, she moaned as a very nice orgasm enveloped her with warmth.

“Figures,” grumbled Emma. “Get off of him so I can suck it back to life.”

Half an hour later Emma also moaned through a very welcome orgasm. Paul, having cum once, didn’t mind that she didn’t go long enough for him to squirt again.

When Emma got off of him Beth solved that problem with her mouth.

The babies were four months old before either of the women sought out Bob to make love. Beth was first, and did it while Bob was at the farm one Saturday fixing some siding that had come loose in a strong wind. When he was finished he came in through the mud room and took off his boots. It was late fall and cold so he hung up his coat and went in where it was toasty warm. Emma was stirring a pot of stew on the stove.

“Beth needs to talk to you,” she said, glancing at her father. “She’s upstairs.”

Bob went up the stairs and found Beth in the grandparents’ room. She had stripped the bed in preparation of washing the sheets.

“You need something?” he asked.

“Help me make the bed,” she said.

They stretched out a bottom sheet and put it over the corners. Then they unfolded the top sheet and, once it was in place, put on two blankets.

“There!” said Beth. “All ready for you to use it.”

“I’m not staying the night,” said Bob.

“Then you’ll have to use it, now,” said Beth.

“I don’t need a nap,” he said. “I’m not that old.”

“I wasn’t talking about a nap,” she said, pulling her T shirt up and over her head. She was wearing a nursing bra and she unsnapped it and cupped her breasts. They were larger than before and heavier. She stood and let him look. “Get undressed, Daddy. We need to make sure the bed is made right.”

Bob grinned and felt his cock responding. By the time he dropped his shorts and stood up, it was rock hard.

“I love it when you get hard for me like that,” said Beth, who was also naked.

“We could have done this before you changed the sheets,” he said.

“I’ll wash both sets,” she said. “I don’t mind as long as we use them this way.”

As they got in bed she said, “I want you on top. I love it when you lie on me and I can’t move.”

He gave her what she wanted, sliding in and lying fully on top of her as he used his arms and legs to lurch forward and then relax, driving deep into her pussy and then letting gravity pull him out a bit.

“Ohhhh yeah,” she groaned. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Pumpkin,” he said.

“You made a baby in my sister,” she groaned.

“I had fun doing it,” he teased.

“In a couple of years I’m going to want to get pregnant again,” she huffed.

“I believe you have a husband who would happily get you with child,” he said. “That’s really his job, not mine.”

“Party pooper,” she muttered, as she pushed up at him with her hips.

He kept going but altered his attack so that, when he went deep, he rotated, crushing her clit. She went off like a bomb but couldn’t make much noise because she could only get enough oxygen in her lungs to stay conscious. As he heard her cum he lifted his chest off of her breasts, which had leaked and made her chest slippery. She gasped, taking in a long, deep breath and then pulled his face down for a long, wet kiss while her pussy rippled all around his shaft.

“You want another orgasm, now?” he he asked, still rubbing gently.

“That was enough,” she said. “I want to feel you spurt in me, like you did when you got Emma pregnant.”

She closed her legs, making him put his knees outside her thighs. She had already been tight. Having a baby hadn’t changed anything in that way, but with her legs closed she was even tighter. All he had to do was withdraw and push back in fifteen or twenty times and he grunted, “Here it is, Baby. All for you,” as he shot off in his daughter yet, again.

“Stay there,” she said, after he rolled off of her and she got up. “Emma and I agreed we’ve been neglecting you. She’ll be up in a minute.”

“Maybe I do need a nap,” he groaned.

“I’ll tell her to take her time,” said Beth.

She got dressed again and left the room. Five minutes later Emma arrived.

“You can sleep after I punish you,” she said.

“You’re going to punish me?”

“You got me pregnant and made my belly swell up, and then I had to spend hours in labor, and then push your baby out of me. It was awful! You need to be punished!”

“How, exactly, are you going to punish me?”

“You’ll see,” she said. She took off her clothes and climbed in bed with him. She mounted him, sinking down on his fat shaft.

“You always stretch me so good,” she groaned.

She didn’t move, sitting straight up. The obstetrician had told her to do Kegel exercises to firm things back up after delivering a baby and she’d been doing those, mostly with Paul. Now she did them with her father’s penis in her. Her Kegels were in good shape and she milked him off expertly.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to cum,” he panted.

“Okay,” she said, happily.

But when she sensed his orgasm was beginning, she hopped off and pinched the base of his penis, cutting off his orgasm at the knees. He groaned piteously.

“Changed my mind,” she said, brightly, as he groaned. “You can cum later.”

Then she sucked him until he was ready to spurt and pinched him off again.

“Okay, okay,” he moaned. “I’m sorry. I’ll never knock you up again!”

“Let’s not get crazy and make promises we might not be able to keep. You can get on top of me, now.”

He “punished” her in return, treating her like he usually treated Beth and the roughness of the experience was just what Emma needed on that particular day. He pounded her through two orgasms before he went deep and put his mouth by her ear.

“I hope I’m getting you pregnant again right now!”

He spurted, grunted and spurted some more.

“Too soon!” she whined. “Too soon, Daddy.”

Afterward, as they lay together, sweating and panting, Bob leaned over and got his first taste of mother’s milk since the twins were born.

“You’re so bad,” she sighed, holding his head to her breast. “You’re stealing from your very own baby!”

The new mothers stayed home for the first six weeks after they delivered, but then the babies went to daycare. Occasionally Julie would come to the farm and spend a day with her grandchildren, feeding them with pumped milk. She didn’t mind diaper changes at all and thoroughly loved playing with her grandchildren. That also gave Muriel a chance to be with them before her swing shift started.

Bob continued to spend time at the farm fixing things and painting and so on. Eventually the house was up to snuff and he took a look at the barn and other outbuildings. They needed some upkeep, too, so for the foreseeable future he had plenty to do in his spare time. It was Bob, in fact, who arranged for the barn to be rented out. He was replacing a broken hinge on the main door when a man in a pickup drove in and parked. When he got out he introduced himself as Josh Turner, and said he had bought the land around the house at the auction. He had planted it in wheat and was thinking ahead to harvest time. He was interested in parking his combine and two trucks in the barn so they would be there, close and ready to go when they were needed. Bob had no idea what rent should be set at and said so. Josh was just as truthful.

“I could give you a rate, but it would be lower than somebody else might be willing to spend on a setup like this,” he said.

“Just treat them fair,” said Bob.

“Would you be interested in going shares?” asked Josh. “We won’t know how much that would be until after harvest. If it’s a good year then the amount could be substantial. What with the war in Ukraine and the world-wide shortage of grain, prices are climbing. I’ve got three silos I put grain in last year and intended to keep until prices went higher. They always dip around harvest time, you know.”

Bob didn’t know and said so.

“Well, anyway, I’ve sold off a lot of grain sooner than I thought I would. Luckily, I got this land and planted almost twice as much as I have in the past. The plants look good so far and it might be a good deal for both of us if we get a good harvest.”

“What kind of shares are you talking about?” asked Bob.

“Well, if I was leasing it, I’d get thirty percent of production. I took a chance and bought it at the auction, so I’m carrying a debt load that scared my wife near to death. I’m depending on a good crop to ease that pressure and reassure the bank that I’m good for the debt. If I could store some machinery and fuel here that would help me get the best return. I was thinking three percent of what I cut? That wouldn’t be until next June or July. What you see out there is hard red winter wheat. It’s about to go dormant for the winter but it looks very healthy now and if we get some snow this winter it should pick back up and grow like crazy next spring. I’ll be able to estimate yield, then.”

“I have no idea what that translates to,” said Bob.

“I bought almost a thousand acres and if it’s a good year then at current prices three percent would come out somewhere near twelve hundred dollars.” He frowned. “Of course if it’s a bad year, it could be a hundred.”

Bob thought about it. He’d been trying to figure out how the barn could be made into something that could generate revenue and hadn’t come up with anything. It was just sitting there, doing nothing. Some of the other outbuildings had potential for storage, but the barn was too big and had too many cracks and holes in the old boards to keep critters out. Twelve hundred dollars wasn’t much, but it could make a house payment, and reducing the kids’ debt load from twelve payments a year to eleven would help.

“Let me talk to the owners and I’ll call you,” he said.

“I appreciate it,” said Josh. “I’m glad somebody is getting good use out of the old house. Too many of them just sit and decay.”

Later that day Bob transmitted Josh’s offer to Paul and the twins.

“I say do it,” said Emma. “We’re not using it anyway.”

“Twelve hundred dollars a year isn’t much,” Paul pointed out.

“It’s twelve hundred dollars we wouldn’t otherwise have,” said Beth.

“Am I being outvoted?” Paul asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Are you voting no?” asked Emma.

“No, not really,” he said with a smile.

“Then it’s unanimous,” said Bob. “Want me to call him or do you want to introduce yourselves?”

“Paul will call him,” said Emma. “He’s the man of the house.”

“I’m shocked,” said Bob. “I’ve been living in a family full of women for two decades and nobody ever called me the man of the house, much less accorded me that kind of respect.”

“Don’t be silly. You were definitely the man,” said Emma, her voice sultry. She blinked, glanced at Paul and then blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

Paul cut her off.

“My ego isn’t hurt,” he said. “I happen to like my father-in-law and am not threatened by his virility.”

“He’s not your father-in-law, yet,” said Beth. “When are we going to get married?” Bob could tell she had asked this question before. To be honest, the trio of grandparents had discussed this several times, but didn’t want to interfere.

“I wanted to wait until I could take you on a honeymoon,” he groaned. Bob could tell he had also made this statement before.

“Honeymoon shmoneymoon,” snorted Beth. “I don’t need a honeymoon.”

“I don’t, either,” said Emma. She glanced at Bob but then looked back at Paul.

“I wanted to take you on a cruise,” said Paul. Bob understood that the “you” in that sentence was plural.

“Do you know how many people get sick on cruises?” asked Emma. “Cruise ships are like petri dishes for every inimical bacteria known to man!”

“We won’t be able to afford something like that for years,” said Beth.

Paul held up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Set a date and let me know so I can request that day off.”

Paul was rushed by two women and Bob turned to leave. He didn’t know what to think of the obvious suggestion that this marriage to only one twin would be a sham, and that the reality of it would be that Paul was marrying them both. Maybe it wouldn’t be official or acknowledged in public, but that’s what it would be.

Then he realized that his own relationship with the twins had been like that. In many ways there had been three wives in the Cunningham household from the time the twins were sixteen until they went to college. The women had shared the household chores and Bob’s bed. Bob had been very happy, back then. He still was, for that matter, and he hoped fervently that Paul would be just as happy.

He was caught by one arm and spun around by Emma, who hugged him and ground her pussy against the lump in his pants.

“Thank you, Daddy. He would never have given in if you weren’t there to shame him into it.”

“I didn’t say a word,” said Bob.

“You didn’t have to. Now, what’s this Josh’s number? We need to call him.”

The wedding date was set for one month hence and it wasn’t anything like Paul (or the grandparents) expected it to be. One reason he had resisted setting a date had been because he was worried about how much a wedding would cost. He knew that, traditionally, the bride’s parents paid for that, but he didn’t want to put that kind of expense on them.

It turned out to be a very small wedding, performed there in the farm house. Beth had met a young woman in college who had become a licensed clergywoman as a lark, and who had agreed several months in the past to do the ceremony. Emma was Beth’s maid of honor. Paul’s aunt and some cousins came and Danny, who was now twenty, said he was honored to be Paul’s best man.

There was a meal and some dancing, to recorded music afterward. When Danny asked Emma to dance he pulled her close.

“You know it’s tradition for the best man and maid of honor to fool around,” he said, softly in her ear.