Chapter 1

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Rape, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Humor, Tear Jerker, Incest, Brother, Sister, Father, Daughter, Cousins, Spanking, Group Sex, Harem, Polygamy/Polyamory, First, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Squirting, Lactation, Pregnancy, Cream Pie, Slow,

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A coming of age and personal growth story. Dave And Carol, meet, fall in love, and suffer the pitfalls of life as they explore themselves and a multiple marriage. Some mysticism.

I was dragged up out of a deep, satisfying, exhaustion-induced sleep by the insistent ringing of the bedside phone.

"Shit, can't they let me sleep through just one night?"

My wife, Diane, just groaned beside me, and tried to go back to sleep. These at-all-hours of the night calls from work were really getting to be a drag on her, too.

I reached for the phone, automatically noting the time on the bedside clock. If it was a call-out to work, that would be the start time on my time sheet. It was just after 1:00 AM. This was the first night in over a week I had managed to get to bed for much-needed sleep at a decent hour. Besides my regular workday, I was on-call for emergencies, and now they were disturbing me at night, unusual for this time of year. I don't wake up well at the best of times, so I was just a little grouchy. Thank God the work season was almost over.

"Hello? Listen is it that --"

The voice on the other end cut me off.

"Hello, Dave?" Not waiting for my reply, "Bob, Bob Scott here."

I had already recognized the voice of my old friend, but that was his standard way of starting a phone conversation. He'd done it since I first met him when we were fifteen.

"Jeezus, Bob! Doncha know what time it is? It's —"

"Oh, sorry! I completely forgot the time difference. I'll call back in the morning"

Bob lives in Vancouver. They are three hours behind Ontario.

"No you won't."

You never brush Bob off. If he didn't tell me now, he never would.

"I'll be at work, but it must be really important for YOU to forget time differences, so c'mon, let's hear it. Did Margaret finally kick you out?"

Bob has one of the most brilliant minds I've ever known. Ordinarily, at any time of the day, you pick a spot anywhere in the world, and he can tell you the local time almost instantly. So it must be something BIG to cause this kind of mental lapse.

"Margaret and I split up over a year ago."

"Oh, sorry to hear that."

Well, if his marriage breakup over a year ago wasn't important enough to call me then, I wondered just what was so important he would call me now at this ungodly hour. Bob and I are old friends since high school, but after his family moved out suddenly to Toronto, and then as suddenly out West, we'd hardly ever spoke. Maybe the occasional letter or phone call at Christmas. Once, a few years back, he and his wife, Margaret dropped in for a short visit while they were back here on business. That was how I met her. Up 'til then, I didn't even know he was married.

"Nah, it's something else. Mom passed away Tuesday."

"What? Oh God, Bob, I'm really sorry to hear that"

Dolly Scott had been like a second mother to me during the couple of years Bob and I hung out together in school. She was Dutch, marrying Bob Scott Sr. after the War. When she came to Canada with her new husband, her whole family followed, and settled in Ontario. Then another light went on in my head.

"But Bob, this is Thursday. Did it hit you that hard you only recovered to call me now?"

Actually it was the wee small hours of Friday morning here, but it was still Thursday in Vancouver. At least I remembered the time difference.

"No. I was prepared for it — we all were. Mom's been very ill for the past year. We knew she was going. We were all with her at the end and were able to say goodbye. It wasn't sudden. She was staying with me at the end. It was expected. It was peaceful. I grieved last year when we first learned she was dying. The last couple weeks, she was just a shell, waiting for the body to stop. I think she was already gone."

I knew Bob wasn't an overtly emotional person. He was close to his mother, but not overly demonstrative. In typical Bob fashion, he had worked it through and was over his grief quickly.

"So why the late night call?"

"Well, I need a really big favour..."

"And that would be... ?"

"I need you to be me for a couple days."

"What? What're you smokin' Son? Are you in some kinda trouble?"

"Only with my family, if you won't do this for me."

Now why on God's green earth would Bob and his whole family want me to be him for a couple days?

"'Sides you don't hafta really be me, just sorta my proxy."

"Oh. Explain"

"Well, like I said. Mom passed away on Tuesday. The funeral is not until Saturday."

" Jeez, I dunno if I can get time off work and make a plane out there in time, Bob."

"Sorry again, old chap." The old Bob is talking now. "The funeral is back there. I can't get away from work. We already had a small memorial service here, and now my job won't let me have any more bereavement time. Neither one of my brothers can make it either. Iain had to fly back to the States today. Like me, he only had enough time off his job for the service yesterday. And Sandy's snowbound in Tuktayuktuk. Nothing's flying out of there for at least three more days, because of a blizzard. Shit, he couldn't even get here for the service yesterday. At least he was able to get here to see Mom a couple weeks or so back, just before she really started slipping away.

"That means none of her sons will be represented at the funeral. My sisters are some pissed. So, to keep peace in the family, they accepted when I suggested you as my proxy, remembering how close we all were when we lived back there. Will you do it? Things are moving quickly. I had to call you just as soon as the family agreed. That's why I took a chance calling you so late."

The bugger hadn't forgotten the time difference after all! He needed his friend, and he needed him NOW. I felt much better.

"So where IS the funeral?"

"Remember that small town near the old summer cottage? Well, the Aunts (you remember Tante Pie and Tante Jo, Mom's spinster sisters?), when they retired, they sold the house in Toronto. Instead of moving to the cottage like Opa wanted, they sold it too, and bought a house in town.

"They're burying Mom in the cemetery there, with the rest of her family. It's in her will; they've taken charge, and are insisting that we do it their way. You know how tough and stubborn those two old school teachers can be."

Yes, I remembered those aunts, and I understood about burying Dolly in that cemetery. Her parents were there. They had wanted to be close to the cottage they loved, and bought a family plot big enough for them and all five children. The youngest was actually the first 'resident'. Kit was killed in a car accident just before Bob and his folks moved away. I had never met their son. I had been to that funeral, too. One of the last times I saw the Scotts, and the last time I saw them all together. It was the last time I ever saw Dolly's family.

"Well, OK. I remember how stubborn they can be. I'll do it, but it's a five hour drive from here. I can't drive down there, do the whole day of funeral, wake, and then drive back home the same day. I'll hafta stay over. Is there a motel or something nearby I can get a room at? It's been years. I don't remember any hotels or motels in that small place."

"I checked the Net. They have a new motel right in town, now. I've already got you booked into the Riverview, for two nights. Tomorrow and Saturday. I figured you'd have to go down tomorrow afternoon to be there fore the wake at the funeral home tomorrow night, and Saturday will be so busy, it'll be too late to drive back to your place then. Don't worry about paying, it's on us. I booked it over the Net on my credit card. Unless you want to eat out, you'll be eating with the Aunts. They're expecting you."

Again, typical Bob. Don't wait — just organize and do. Not a bad defense mechanism, I guess.

"OK. Thanks. I could've paid my own way. What would you have done if I'd said no? Never mind. You knew I'd say 'Yes' because you also know I can't refuse a favour to a friend in need. Right?" I chuckled. "You said without me as your proxy, none of the sons would be represented. Are the girls gonna make it then?"

"Riekie's tied up at the hospital with one of her projects. Something about some medical study she's doing being near completion. She was out to be with us near the end, and was here for the service, but now she can't spare any more time or the study could be ruined. Can't blow off the tax payers' grant money, ya know."

I said earlier that Bob was brilliant, but he doesn't hold a candle to his oldest sister Riekie. She's got a couple medical degrees, and does some pretty high-end medical research at the university hospital in Winnipeg. She's also beautiful, knock-'em-dead gorgeous. At least she was the last I saw her seventeen years ago when she was studying at U of T. Unless one of her experiments went horribly wrong, I imagine she still is. Now in her late thirties, she'd be a little past her prime, but I bet she was still a knock out. Athletic, she'd always looked after herself. Brains and beauty in the same package. A nerd's wet dream. Of course, she married a doctor. They had twins, and were doing very well. I was hoping to see her. I felt a pang of regret for things long past and an old deep pain.

"My dad's flying down with the coffin."

No surprise there. Even though they were separated, he and Dolly had still been friends. They just couldn't stand to live together any more. Once the kids were all on their own, the split up amicably. The last I had heard Dolly was living between Calgary and Vancouver, moving back and forth between Bob and Carol. Their dad moved out to some hippy-type place somewhere in the Queen Charlotte Islands.

"And Carol to represent the girls."


My stomach lurched.

Bob continued on without interruption. He knew, too.

"OK, Dave, I know you want to get back to sleep. Anything else you need to know?"

"Yeah, where do the Aunts live exactly? What time is the funeral, and what's their phone number?"

He gave me the address and phone number, and told me to contact them in the morning about the funeral arrangements. He wasn't sure himself. He didn't think they had been completed yet, but the Aunts would know by the time I called them in the morning. I jotted down what he told me on the pad by the phone. We finished our business, said a few pleasantries, and hung up.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. The wife, who had lain quietly while I talked to Bob, spoke up.

"Was that Bob Scott? Jeez, you haven't heard from him in almost two years. What was so big he had to call you in the middle of the night? He knows the time difference better than anyone."

"You heard, eh? I thought you'd gone back to sleep. His Mom died. He wants me to be 'him', or rather, his proxy, at the funeral. They re having it back here. None of the sons can make it, so the family asked if I'd step in for Bob. I said OK, 'cause what are friends for? He didn't really forget the time difference. Things are moving quickly, and he couldn't wait until morning."

"Oh. I never met her. I'm sorry for Bob and his family. From the stories you tell, I know she meant a lot to you, too. So... you're representing Bob and his brothers, then?"


"So who's representing his sisters? Is she coming?"

"Yes, she's coming. Riekie can't make it either, so it's just her. And their Dad."

The 'she' my wife referred to, and which I did too, falling into her way of speaking to keep the peace, was Bob's sister Carol. Carol was my first girl friend. It had been special, very, very special. I'm not sure I ever really got over it. I often wondered how she felt.

Diane and I had agreed very early in our relationship there would be no secrets, no matter how trivial, or how big. I told my wife all about all my girl friends; she told me about all her boy friends -- there weren't many. She was 20 when I started dating her. I was an old man of 27 then. There were no skeletons in our closets with respect to each other. We knew all there was about our respective pasts. This had worked well for the eight years we'd been married. My wife also knew that Carol had been special. I hadn't seen or spoken to her since my first year of college. That was 17 years ago. Because she lived in Calgary, and no contact at all in those seventeen years, of all my old girl friends, she had been the least likely to reappear anywhere in my life — until now. Despite this, for some reason, probably that special radar that women seem to have about other women, Diane was always a little nervous and apprehensive whenever Carol was mentioned. Just like now. Hence "Is she coming" instead of asking after her by name. I had a feeling I just might have stepped in something smelly.

But, Diane just said "Gimme a kiss and get some sleep. You've got a long day ahead of you."

I bent to kiss her 'good night'. She locked lips with me more passionately than is usual for a good night peck. So much so, that my little friend woke up, reared his head, and started to look for a little action, poking her. We sleep in the nude, so it really did poke her. She rolled into the spoon position, squirmed in to greet him, giggled, reached down, and patted him on the head.

"Not now, Rascal. Go back to sleep. You two have a long day coming up." Sounds silly, but somewhere along the line, Diane had decided that my penis had a personality she called Rascal, because of the way he popped up to play at almost any time.

She gave me the little good night peck I had originally expected, sighed happily and drifted off to sleep, leaving me erect, her hand still grasping 'Rascal.'

I thought it would be hard (pun intended) getting back to sleep, but I was exhausted, and fell asleep almost instantly. I slept soundly until the alarm went off at seven. I grumped out of bed as usual. As usual, Diane was already up. I could smell coffee. Also as usual, I never felt it when she left our bed, I sleep so soundly. I picked up the bedside phone, called work and booked three days off on Annual Leave. During the work season, we work weekends, too, so I needed three annual days to cover the funeral. I quickly headed to the bathroom to relieve a painful morning piss hard-on, brush my teeth, and have a shower.

When I got downstairs Diane was working at the kitchen counter. She was wearing her plain blue robe and was barefoot in her slippers. Her soft brown waves were still a little mussed from sleep. She looked cuddly, and delicious. She had breakfast waiting; my usual: scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee. I slipped in from behind, tousled her hair even more, and wrapped my arms around her. I kissed her lightly on the nape of the neck.

She murmured softly. "Mmmmm. G'morning to you, too!" My hand wandered to her firm breast. She twisted away with an impish smile. "The kids... now get your breakfast."

The kids were up too. I gave them each a big hug and kissed them 'Good Morning.' Rhiannon was getting ready to catch the bus for school. Jen, our 18 month old toddler, was playing with Ahab the cat. Diane had fed them earlier. I finished eating, and sat having coffee with my beautiful young wife. Diane is seven years younger than me. While I have sprouted a bit of a gut from 'the good life', and am starting to look my 36 years, with a little grey in my hair and full beard, she has still maintained her youthful looks, despite bearing two children. I often marveled at how she kept so trim. She was never big on exercise or diet. Just a natural, I guess.

"I better call Bob's aunts and get the details sorted out. Are you going with me? We'll be leaving today, and won't be back until someday Sunday. Sorry for the short notice, but that's the way it is with funerals."

"Oh, I understand the rush. Remember what it was like last year when my father died? I'd like to go with you, but someone has to stay with the girls. I can't call your Mom and Dad. They're leaving for Montreal today to see your sister, or did you forget? And there's no time to get anybody else. Rhiannon has choir practice tomorrow, and Jen's going to a birthday party. You'll just have to go to the funeral by yourself. We'll miss you, but right now, your need to do this for your friend."

Diane knew the high value I placed on friendship. She respected me for it.

"If I need a ride, anywhere, Heather will take me."

Diane never learned to drive. Heather, my younger sister lived right across the road and was very good about taking Diane anywhere she needed to go. They were great friends, one of many indications Diane had been totally accepted into my family.

"Funeral? Who died, Daddy?"

Rhiannon had heard us. At six and a half years old, she had a child's natural curiosity. When Diane's father had passed away suddenly the previous year, we explained to her then about death, why we had funerals, and the need to say goodbye. Although only five at the time, she took it all in, and to my great relief, understood what we told her. She was rather mature on the subject now. They grow up way too quickly.

"A friend's mother. You remember Bob Scott?" A blank look. "You were very young when he was here. You might remember me talking about him." She nodded as I continued. "Bob asked me to take his place at her funeral because he can't come himself. He already said goodbye to his mom. She was very sick for a long time, and they knew she was going to die. Say, you better get a move on Kiddo, or you'll miss your bus. Gimme a big, big hug now, too. You better make that three. I won't be seeing you until Sunday."

She finished putting on her light fall jacket and ran over as I stooped down. She threw herself at me, gave me four huge hugs, counting them, and plastered three sloppy child kisses on my cheek.

"There's an extra hug for Bob. I'm sorry about his Mom. Love you Daddy. See you Sunday."

Kids are so sweet!

"I'll send it home with his sister. Love you too, Kiddo. See you Sunday. Save a big hug for me for when I get back."

She waved and was gone, running happily down the lane on a cool September morning to catch the school bus. I watched until she was safely aboard the bus. It was a bright day. Despite the early morning coolness, it promised a continuation of the late summer heat we'd been having.

Jen toddled over and got her morning hugs, too. At 18 months, she was a ball of energy. The hugs were enthusiastic as only a child's can be. Ahab wrapped his soft paws around her leg as we hugged. He still wanted to play. The cat finally proved more interesting than Daddy and she was soon back playing with him. Jen has always had a way with animals.

With breakfast done, Rhiannon off to school, and Jen playing contentedly, I called Bob's aunts to get directions and the funeral arrangements.


"Tante Pie? It's Dave, Bob's friend. Remember me? He said you were expecting me to call." Amazingly, after all these years, I recognized the soft Dutch accent immediately, and knew which of the aunts I was speaking with.

"Oh yes, David. Bobby told us you would call. It's so good to hear from you. Thank you for doing this for our family. Dolly would be proud of you." Always the school teacher. So formal.

"Well, I'm glad to help in any way I can. What time should I be there today?"

"The viewing is from seven to eight. The family should be there by six forty five. Can you make it here in time?"

"Sure! If I leave here by noon, I should be down there by five. That'll give me time to check into the hotel, get changed, and head to the funeral home. Where is it from the hotel? I'll call you when I get checked in, and get directions to the house. Is that OK?"

"That will be most satisfactory, David. I will tell Jo you are on your way. We are both looking forward to seeing you after all these years. It is just too bad it is under these sad circumstances. The funeral home is easy to find. It is directly across the street from the hotel, right on the main street. You can't miss either. You can walk over. Our home is only a block away. Remember, it is a very small town. Is your wife coming too? We have never met her."

"Thanks, Tante Pie. No, Diane can't come this time. She's disappointed. She wanted to meet all of you. She says I never stop talking about the times I spent with you folks. She says she was beginning to wonder if you were real people until she met Bob and Margaret a few years ago. We can't get a sitter for the whole weekend for the kids, and they both have stuff going on, so she has to stay home with them. Ah! The joys of raising kids, eh? Anyway, I'd better get going. I still have to pack. We'll catch up on everything later when I see you."

"Alright, David, we look forward to seeing you when you arrive. Say hello to your wife and children and your parents for us. Goodbye."

"I will. 'Bye, Tante Pie." And that was it. Short, sweet and to the point.

She had reminded me. I placed a quick call to Mom and Dad. I caught them just a few minutes before they left to catch the train to Montreal. We didn't have time for much chatting. I told them about Dolly, the funeral arrangements, and that the aunts said hello. Mom, in particular, was touched and pleased that I would do this for Bob. She asked pointedly about Carol. I brushed it off. I told them to say hello to my sister, Val. We said our goodbyes and hung up.

I had a few other little things to do around the house to make sure everything was ship-shape for Diane and the kids while I was away. Among them was to finish cleaning up my workbench and cupboards. I'd been puttering away at it for the last few nights. There was only a little left to finish. I knew if I didn't do it now, it would never get done.

One of the last items I took out of my cupboard to sort and maybe throw out was an old leather tool pouch from my days with Northern. It still had some items in it: a couple small hand tools and an ancient roll of tape. There was quite a bit of dirt and debris in the bottom. I dumped it on the bench. A glint of metal caught my eye. From the small pile of 15-year old dust and dirt I retrieved a treasured keepsake I thought was stolen 15 years before. I held it for a minute, momentarily staggered by old memories and a deep hurt at a vow forsaken. There was a bit of old tape stuck to it. I cleaned it off, and dropped the object in my pocket. I would decide what to do with it later.

I finished cleaning up my bench, and did the other jobs on my list. By the time I got all those little chores done, and my bags packed, it was only about ten thirty. I walked out to the mailbox and checked the day's mail. There wasn't anything special except a letter for Diane from her cousin out West. I'm not much of a letter writer, but Diane was. She wrote her sisters all the time. About 6 weeks back, she'd received a letter from a cousin she hadn't seen in years. From this beginning, they began a correspondence that sometimes saw a letter a day. Even in the mid 80's we still had not bad mail service. I left Diane's letter on the kitchen table. Now all my chores were done. I could have left a little early, but didn't see a great necessity. I decided to take it easy before leaving. A little relaxation before the long drive to the funeral would be nice.

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