Chapter 4

“Don’t do what to you?” Lonny asked, innocently.

“Don’t worry me that I went too far and then tease me like that.”

“I called my boss and explained my situation. She gave me tomorrow off so I can move. The girls and I will have a new address and new bedrooms. It will be an adventure, for them, but you and I both know I’m not going to sleep in my new bedroom all the time. And since I can’t take birth control pills because I’m allergic to something in them, and since I can’t afford to buy an intrauterine device to avoid pregnancy, and since you’re going to try to keep my womb just running over with your black, African seeds, you’re going to fertilize one of my eggs, Bob. If I rent some of your rooms, Bob, you’re going to fuck a little brown baby in me and I’ll get all fat and have a baby I’ll have to name Rastus or Jemima, or some such thing.”

She stopped and Bob stared at her.

“Rastus or Jemima?” He frowned. “Doesn’t that sound a little racist?”

“No more than you telling me, in front of fifty parents and their children, in the middle of Chuck E. Cheese that you wanted to plant your Mau Mau spear in my belly,” she said.

“Nobody heard that,” he scoffed.

“I heard that, Bob,” she said. “And I fully understand that you’ll never be just my landlord. I have no freaking idea how it happened but I’ve fallen in love with you. Me, a white, southern belle, has gone crazy for a coal-black, gimpy cripple who can’t think of anything other than climbing between my lily white thighs and skewering me over and over, with a penis that belongs on a zebra, or giraffe, or some other African animal that has an enormous penis. And I know you’re going to spurt in me over and over again, even when I tell you I’m ovulating and that you have to pull out. So, yes, I understand that if I rent any space from you, you’re going to demand payment in a form that will use up the space I have available in my womb. And eventually the senior citizens I take care of will know that Mrs. Green, who does not have a husband, is as pregnant as if she did and then, a little later they’ll all know that their very white nurse has been sleeping with a very black man.”

“Well, fuck me to tears, Lonny,” he said. “I can afford to buy you an IUD.”

She looked at him and frowned.

“I go through all that to offer you my womb and you’re going to buy me an IUD?”

“No. Of course not,” he said. “I only said I could afford to buy you one.”

“Would you be willing to buy one, say, a year from now?”

“Oh hell yeah,” he gasped.

“I can’t leave the girls alone to go see this new room I’m going to rent. Maybe we could go to the bedroom I have now and you could use it to describe my new one?”

“I could try very hard,” he said, eagerly.

“Good. I think I’d like that.”

They went, hand in hand, to her bedroom, but she stopped him when she opened the door.

“You know how most Asian people take their shoes off before they go into their houses?”

“Uh, I guess so,” he said.

“Well, my tradition is to take my clothes off before I go into my bedroom. I think it keeps things cleaner and smelling fresher.”

“When in Rome,” said Bob, as he started taking his clothes off.

Lonny lay limp, exhausted, and unhappy.

“Damn it, Bob, you can’t keep doing that to me!”

“Doing what? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I did want it! But you make it so intense I can’t remember all the details!”

“Ahhh,” he said. “Well, in about twenty minutes I’ll be able to cum three more times, but this time I’ll make it last three hours instead of two. Then you can take notes while I’m ravaging you.”

“I’m exhausted, you beast!” she moaned. “It has to be at least midnight and I have to get up tomorrow and move all our belongings to your house. You’re not fucking human. Not only do you have a prick that belongs on a stallion, you fuck like a rabbit, or a mink or whatever kind of animal it is that just fucks and fucks and fucks and keeps on fucking.”

“Lonny, you had at least two dozen orgasms,” he said.

“I know that!” she groaned. “I just can’t remember them because they were too much. You didn’t tell me what you were going to do to get the whole thing in me.”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he said.

“Why would I be scared of something that is scientifically impossible? Things come out of a womb through the woman’s cervix, Bob, not through the cervix and into the womb. You might have actually damaged my body! It hurt, Bob!”

“I did not damage your body,” he said. “I didn’t actually go all the way inside your womb. I just stretched things and peeked in with the little eye I have on the tip of my manhood.”

“Okay, maybe that’s true, but if you stretch the cervix open that’s like a woman beginning to have labor. The cervix doesn’t want to stretch that much. And you knew once you could rub the ever-living shit out of my clitty with all that curly, black hair your cock nests in, that I’d have the kind of orgasm that milks the cum out of your black balls. If that went straight into my womb then it blew up like a little balloon. You cum a ton, Bob. I’m telling you, what you do to a woman should be considered a war crime!”

“No, no, no, no, no,” he said, stroking her breast. “Make love, not war.”

“Oh, Bob,” she whined, as she buried her face in his muscular chest. “I’m not going to have your baby. I’m going to have a litter of your babies.”

“Oh, fuck, I hope so,” he sighed.

“You want me to be a bent over old woman by the time I’m forty because I’ve spent the last twenty years either pregnant or delivering one of your children?”

“There have been some women who got pregnant by me and had the baby. But none of them wanted anything to do with me after that. They take my child support, or at least the ones who didn’t get married do, but I don’t get to visit the mothers or play with the kids. I’ve always wanted to settle down but no woman ever wanted to settle down with me, especially after my leg made me a cripple.”

“I don’t just have a man’s baby and then wander off across the savannah to raise his cub all alone,” she said. “If I let you do this, I’m in it for the long haul. I wouldn’t let you do it if I wasn’t in it for the long haul. I’ll demand the same thing from my man. Are you sure you can restrict yourself to only one woman from now on?”

“I didn’t even have one woman for the last ten years,” he said. “I managed to do all right all that time and now I’ll have double that number!”

She laughed.

“Double zero and you still have zero, you goof,” she said.

“Whatever. I’m just worried you’ll be too bossy.”

“Bossy? Me? Hah!”

“Don’t you dare stop!” he whined in what was supposed to sound like a female voice. “Go deeper. Pound me! Oh fuck if you ever stop I’ll cut your balls off! I can’t take it but don’t you dare stop!”

“I did not say those things,” she scoffed.

“You don’t remember saying those things. I was afraid you were going to kill me for half of the time we were going at it.”

“You are so full of it,” she said.

“No... you are full of it,” he said, softly. “And I want to keep you full of it. Will you really, actually let me get you pregnant?”

“A dozen other women did, according to you,” she said. “Why would you be surprised that you could put another notch on your pistol handle, or wherever gun slingers put notches?”

“None of those women let me,” he said. “I just fucked them until they were pregnant. They all said I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Let me guess. They weren’t on birth control and you were supposed to pull out.”

“Yeah,” he said, sheepishly. “I have a hard time doing that. I say they let me because they kept the baby.”

“You’re like any other man. Your purpose in life is to keep the species going so you impregnate as many females as you can.”

“I won’t fuck any other woman as long as you stay with me,” he said.

“Then I won’t have any other man’s baby as long as you let me stay,” she said.

“Shit. We may as well get married,” he said.

“Oh no!” she said, sounding horrified.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Sir, we hardly know each other. We are all but strangers! I can’t possibly marry you until we have courted an appropriate amount of time.”

“What is an appropriate amount of time?” he asked. “Hmmmm. Two babies? Do you think we’ll know each other really well after two babies?”

“I think so,” she said. “Whatever happens you’ll have to ask Beth and Emma if we can get married.”

“I have money. I’ll bribe them.”

She took a serious tone.

“I’m not doing this for the money, Bob. I want you to know that.”

“I do. I would never have put my dick in you if I thought you were a gold digger.”

“I thought you were desperate to feel a warm pussy around your cock.”

“I was desperate to feel your warm pussy around my cock,” he said. “Girl, you owned me the very first day you moved in.”

“You mean all that time I thought you were a dirty old pervert, I owned you?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I was pretty pitiful.”

“You sure were. Every time you beat off behind the fence I had to turn my music up because you were gasping and moaning so loud.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t call the cops on me.”

“I thought you were harmless. Boy, was I wrong about that!”

“I’m hard again,” he said, softly.

“Ohhh,” she groaned. “I can’t believe I’m not sore.”

“I’ll go really slow this time and you can tell me how you’re feeling. Maybe you’ll be able to remember it all that way.”

When French came to evict her, the house was already empty. The floors had been swept and mopped. There was no damage to any of the walls. All this was noted by the deputy who had been assigned to assist, if needed.

“Looks like it’s pretty clean,” said the deputy. He made a note in a little notebook he was carrying.

“Bitch still owes me money,” snarled French.

Lonny was waiting by the car when they came out.

“When I saw that a deputy was here I decided to clear the books,” she said. She produced six hundred dollars. “I paid you half of the rent the first of the month. I paid you the last half and all of the next month last week but you lied to the police and got them to evict me. You solicited me to have sex with you to even the books but I told you to pound sand. I’m saying all this in front of the deputies so they’ll know the truth. I wonder how many other tenants you’ve fucked over like this, but that isn’t my concern, now. I don’t even want my deposit. You’re a worm, Mister French. You and I both know I paid you every cent I owed you before this. I’m paying you again in cash, because that’s all you’ll accept. And just so you know, I would never have let your pathetic, married penis near my pussy in a million years. I’d rather get AIDS than let you fuck me.”

French was already furious that he couldn’t claim she had damaged the house, or left it filthy. Now, to be disrespected like that in front of another man was too much. His hand lashed out before he could think about the consequences and he slapped her so hard she fell down. She looked up to see the deputy grab French and whirl him around.

“You’re under arrest for assault,” said the deputy. “Do not resist. I am placing you in handcuffs.”

French panicked, most likely. He wasn’t brave enough to think he could actually overpower a full grown lawman, but his instincts rebelled at being trussed up like a common criminal. He screamed to let him go and that he hadn’t done anything wrong. By the time the deputy got the cuffs on, his body camera had documented plenty of resistance and resisting arrest was a felony.

“Do you want to press charges, Ma’am?” asked the lawman.

“I do,” she said, rubbing her cheek.

“Can you follow me to the station? I’ll need a statement from you.”

“I’d be happy to.”

As French was being stuffed into the back of the patrol car he yelled, “Where’s my money? I dropped my money. Get me my money!”

The deputy saw Lonny picking up the scattered bills.

“Looks like the wind blew it away?” he growled.

Epilogue

Bob bought them a house in the suburbs, in a nice community with good schools and very little crime. For the first year the neighbors all thought Bob was the gardener, and treated him that way. He couldn’t have cared less. To be fair, he loved being able to plant flowers and tend a real lawn, so maybe they weren’t all racist. That is all they saw him doing.

He was doing much more, though, including learning how to be a father to two little girls who were learning how to have one. There were rocky patches, but for the most part the girls were elated with the changes that had happened.

And, of course, every night (and some days, if the girls were busy elsewhere), Bob lay on top of Lonny’s big, marshmallow breasts while she helped him rock forward and back with his big penis stroking her hungry vagina. He never pulled out and she never asked him to.

A year later Lonny delivered a coffee-colored little girl, who Beth and Emma were elated about. They had spent much of her pregnancy with their ears pressed to their mother’s baby bump, listening to and talking to the baby inside her.

A year after that Bob died on the operating table where they were working on his leg. It was an air embolism and it happened so quickly nobody could have done anything about it. The surgeons had talked to Bob about the dangers, but he had told Lonny it was routine surgery and there was nothing to worry about. For Lonny and the girls, it was sudden, unexpected, and tragic in the extreme. The aim had been to allow him to walk normally, so he could walk her up the aisle after their marriage without limping. Lonny didn’t care how long she had to wait. She was already happy and already felt more married to Bob than she’d ever been to Rick.

But they were not married, and she did not inherit as his wife. Everything except her old car was in his name.

There was a lawyer who had always been around, occasionally, talking to Bob, but who Lonny knew nothing about. This man said there was a will that needed to be read and a time and date was set to do that. She was invited to attend.

The lawyer also invited someone else to the reading and on that day a stranger showed up. He said he was Bob’s nephew, and Lonny knew literally nothing about him. She hadn’t even known he existed. His name was Homer Wagoner and he had just graduated from college with a degree in mechanical engineering. When Lonny met him, before the will was read, she was astonished. There was just the hint of suspicion in her mind that he was a fake, trying to get Bob’s inheritance, but he looked so much like Bob that she almost hugged him and her vision was blurred by tears of loss.

Then she remembered Bob mentioning a sister, who had died.

“He never said a word about you,” she said, shaking his hand. He was tall and his shoulders were wide. He was blue-black like his uncle. Lonny imagined this was what Bob looked like in his prime, when he was seducing and knocking up all those women.

“My dad took off when I was young and my mom died in my senior year of high school,” he said. Lonny shuddered. Homer’s voice sounded just like Bob’s. “Uncle Bob was helping us with expenses but Mom was too proud to go live with him. I knew she was crazy about him and the few times he came to visit I could tell he was crazy about her, too, but she wouldn’t let him stay. He always came and visited for a day or two and then left again. I didn’t understand it all. Mom said he was too busy to stay. Then you came along and Mom said she wasn’t going to go cook in some other woman’s kitchen, you know? And then, when she died, he helped me deal with everything and go to college.”

“I don’t understand,” said Lonny. “I’ve known him for three years, and in all that time he never said a word about either you or your mother. Well, he mentioned one time that his sister had died, but that’s all. I thought I knew everything about him.”

“All I knew was that he got hurt when I was ten or eleven and then he was rich and he told Mom he was sending me to college. After Mom’s funeral was over he told me to keep studying. He gave me a stipend to live on and when I started college he paid for my tuition. I was getting close to graduating and finding a job and paying him back for everything when this happened.”

“I remember him going on a trip,” Lonny said. “He told me he had to go to the funeral of one of the men he used to work the high steel with,” she said. “Why wouldn’t he have told me he had a sister, or that she had died and left you behind?”

Homer shrugged as the lawyer came into the room with his briefcase. Lonny and Homer were the only two people there for the reading of the will, so they sat at the desk with the lawyer.

“You both already know my name is Gene Hadwell,” he said. “I have been Mister Wagoner’s attorney since he was injured and asked me to handle his settlement,” said the man. “He and I were in communication about once a year. I supervised his investments, which were handled by a company I’ll tell you about, later. He had me write his will and last testament. I knew about both of you before I set up this meeting. Mister Wagoner and I went over his will and last testament just before the operation in which he died. He knew there were some risks and he wanted to make sure his affairs were in order.”

Lonny looked at Homer, who looked just as surprised as she was.

“As to his last will and testament,” said the attorney, “Mister Wagoner liked women and he had relationships with a number of them. Twelve became pregnant and had his children. When he came into money and retained me, I recommended to him that he settle any claims concerning those children before he died. I negotiated with the mothers and have the releases they all signed in my file with settlements in them. The only other claimants left to his fortune are you two.”

He paused.

“Homer, you are actually Bob’s son, and not his nephew, as the world was led to believe.”

Lonny gasped as Homer leaned back in his chair and bounced off of the back.

“How...?” he rasped.

“Bob and Linda were closer, as siblings, than they were supposed to be. He told me that’s why she never married and he was unhappy about that. Then, their ... um ... closeness produced you. He wanted you both to live with him but she refused. Apparently she was afraid that there would be a repeat of the ... uh ... accident. So he instructed me to make sure that you and your mother did all right. Your mother was very stubborn about accepting funds unless she was in dire need. She did accept money to put in a bank account for your college tuition, until she died. After that I sent the checks directly to you.”

“I always thought he was the one sending them,” said Homer.

“He was, through me,” said the man. “I can go through all the legalese in the will if you want me to, but the down and dirty of it is that you, Lonny, get one million dollars, and Homer, here, gets the rest.”

He let the two contemplate what he had said.

“You’ll both get copies of the will, of course. Should either of you contest the provisions of the will, you’ll need to hire your own attorney. I represent the estate and cannot take sides.”

“I won’t contest anything,” said Lonny. “I’m just stunned.”

“Me, too,” said Homer. “I’m still trying to adjust to being his son instead of his nephew.”

“I’m sure you can understand why the subterfuge was there,” said the lawyer.

“Duh,” said Homer. “I can’t believe I was an incest baby!”

“You went through a whole battery of tests and nothing was found that was of concern. Bob wanted you to know the real deal in case you ever had a medical need to know, genetically, where you came from.”

“I see.”

“There is a letter I’m supposed to give you, Homer,” he said, handing Homer a cream-colored envelope. Homer pulled a pocket knife from his pants pocket and use it to slit it open. He peered inside and extracted a piece of paper and began reading it.

Lonny stood. She was wearing high heels, the pair, in fact, that Bob had loved her to wear when she was otherwise naked. She’d worn them in memory of him. Now, though, her feet hurt, so she took them off.

“Is there anything I need to do?” she asked the lawyer.

“If neither you nor Mister Wagoner contests the will, the money will be transferred to your personal checking account tomorrow. You need do nothing else except make some plans for investments, which I strongly recommend you do. Lonny, you can live pretty comfortably on the interest from a million dollars of investments if they are sound and Homer, the administration of his portfolio will now be your concern. After the will is adjudicated I will no longer be involved.”

“All right. Thank you,” said Lonny.

She turned to leave and stopped when Homer called, “Lonny!”

She turned.

“Could I take you to dinner?” he asked. “We need to talk.”

The will had been read at the house, and Homer asked Lonny where a good place to eat was that was quiet. Once they were settled into a booth and had ordered, Homer began talking.

“Uncle Bob and I talked every other week or so, since Mom died,” he said. He sighed. “I guess my dad and I talked. ‘They were short calls, usually. He always asked me how things were going and if I needed anything. And we talked about you quite a bit, too.”

“Oh?”

“You’re even more beautiful than he said you are.”

“Like uncle, like nephew,” she said, her tone cool.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“He hit on me the first time he met me,” she said. “Like uncle, like nephew.”

“I wasn’t hitting on you,” he said. “I was just making a comment. He also said you could be thorny, at times.”

“He was right,” she said.

“Let me start again. He used to talk about you a lot. It was obvious he was crazy about you. I asked him if he had a picture of you one time and he said no, which I thought was strange. In that letter he left me, he said that you could keep living in the house if you want to, and that I needed to live there, too, and take care of you.”

“Take care of me?”

“Please do not be angry. All I am telling you is what he wrote and said for me to say, okay?”

“Go on,” she said, stiffly.

“He wrote, and I quote, that you were hell on wheels in bed, by far the hottest, sexiest, and most demanding of any woman he’d ever had. I’ll interject here and tell you my mother told me stories about all the women he chased before he got hurt. Those must have been the ones the lawyer mentioned. Anyway he said he was worried about you.”

“Why would he worry about me?”

“Because, he said – and remember this is him talking. I’ll show you the letter – he said that you have gotten used to Grade-A, prime, African prick and you may go into withdrawal after he dies.”

She blinked.

“He said that, did he?”

“His words exactly. He instructed me to tell you all this verbally but I will show you the letter.”

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and handed it to her, across the table. She unfolded it and her eyes flicked from side to side. She recognized the handwriting and tears filled her eyes.

“I thought you were unhinged when you told me that,” she said. “I should have known better. “If you’re his son, you’re probably not an idiot.”

“Anyway, as you already read, I’m supposed to ask you if I can move into one of the unused bedrooms of the house.”

“It’s your house,” she said.

“I’m supposed to give you this, now,” he said.

He handed her a smaller sealed envelope. It had her name on it. She realized it must have been inside the envelope Homer had received from the lawyer. She turned it over and looked at the seal. Written across it in familiar, wavery script were the words, “For Lonny’s Eyes Only” and Bob’s signature. She looked and saw that where the letters crossed the seal it was clear the envelope had not been opened since it was sealed.

She used a nail file to cut the top of the envelope. Inside was a page that only had three lines on it.

The first was: “I’ll kick Rick’s ass for being stupid, when I run into him.”

The second was: “Let Homer move in. He’s even bigger than I am and he needs a good woman in his life.”

The third was: “I loved you. I always will.”

It was signed, “Bob”.

She looked up at Homer.

“So he told you that you had to ask permission to move into your own house.”

“Yes, unless you moved out. Then I don’t have to have permission.”

“Did he say what you were supposed to do when you moved in?”

“He said I should probably listen to you because you’re the smartest woman he ever met.”

“And how do you feel about that? You’re what ... twenty-five, maybe?”

“Twenty-three.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“I don’t generally have a girlfriend. Most women find me ... difficult to get along with, I suppose.”

Lonny knew why he couldn’t keep a girlfriend if he was even bigger than Bob. A lot of younger women, who had never had a child, couldn’t take something like that comfortably. It wouldn’t hurt them. It just wouldn’t be that much fun. If a woman hung in there until she got used to it, she’d change her mind and never want to let him go, but girls these days had no patience.

“I’m going to need to interview you,” said Lonny.

“Beg pardon?”

“I need to interview you, before I make my decision,” she said. “You have plenty of money and can live anywhere you want to, until my girls go off to college and I decide to move to something smaller.”

“Okay. I guess I could do that anyway.”

“Let me interview you, first. Your uncle ... father ... was an astute man.”

“Okay.”

“One question, first. I lived with him for two years, had his child, and never heard of you. Why do you think he did that?”

“I don’t know. I saw him every once in a while and knew he was always trying to get us to go live with him. After Mom died I asked if I could come visit, during the summers, and he said no, because he said he couldn’t compete. I didn’t know what that meant, except he didn’t want me to meet you because he was worried that I might try to take you away from him, or something. That was stupid, though. I would never have done something like that to him. Now that I have met you, that theory seems more reasonable. You are even more beautiful than he described you as being. I still wouldn’t have done anything but I’d have probably wanted to. Don’t take offense. I’m just saying whatever comes into my mind, here. I wish I’d paid more attention to him, now. I was going to college when he bought the house and you lived together,” said Homer. “I liked talking to him and he always talked about you, and how happy you were making him.”

Homer paused, and then went on.

“And he really never said anything about me?”

“I think I know why, but he was being silly. If what I suspect is true, I’m going to wish he was alive again, just so I could spank him.”

“What?” The young man looked astonished.

“Maybe we’ll discuss that at your interview, if it’s appropriate,” she said.

At eight-thirty the next night Homer rang the bell of the house he now owned, but had never seen the inside of. Lonny opened the door wearing a fluffy white robe and using a towel to dry her hair. The robe exposed a ton of creamy cleavage, which Homer noted and then tried to ignore.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m running a little late.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m not in a big hurry. You go ahead and I’ll look around a little. Your daughters are in bed already, right? I’ll try not to violate anyone’s privacy.”

“We could just get the interview over with and go from there.” Her phrasing sounded more like an order than a request and Homer wondered if this was an exhibition of her prickliness.

“Sure,” he said.

He followed her to a den-like room that was fairly littered with comfortable arm chairs. When she sat one leg was exposed to six inches above her knee.

“I’m sure you’re aware Bob was rather direct sometimes,” she opened.

“You mean rude and crass? That’s what my mother called it.” He smiled.

“Yes. Over time I found that refreshing,” she said. “You always knew where Bob stood.”

“You did.” Homer nodded.

“If you and I are to co-habit I think such directness might be of value in our relationship,” she said.

“You want me to be rude and crude?” He smiled.

She ignored his jest and said, “Bob was right,” she said. “I have gone into a sort of withdrawal since he died.”

“You have?”

“Yes.” She stood up and shrugged off the robe. She was naked under it.

“Bob once told me I had the perfect body for black fucking. I found out he was right. This body craves a big, black dick and your uncle had a monster. I got used to it and now I’m feeling the effects of him being gone.”

“Wow,” sighed the buff, young Negro.

“It seems he bequeathed one more thing to me,” she said.

“What?” he asked, still slack-jawed.

“Stand up and drop your pants,” she said.

“What?”

“Stand – up - and – take – your – pants – off,” she said, patiently.

“I can’t,” he gasped.

“Why? Because you’re stiff? Do you know what that letter you gave me said?”

“No.”

“It said you were even bigger than him.”

“What?”

“All those stupid girls were afraid of you. They were scared to try and even if they did they were probably so nervous they couldn’t relax and enjoy it.”

She went to him and unbuckled his belt. His pants dropped and she knelt to pull his briefs down. It was obvious he packed them well. When she got them down she stopped.

“I, on the other hand, am not afraid of you at all.” She gripped him and looked up. “As I said, like uncle like nephew. I think Bob was afraid that if I met you, I’d lose interest in him because I like big, black dick. That’s why I wish he was still here. If he admitted that to me, I’d spank him until he couldn’t sit down.” She frowned. “If he let me.” She looked at Homer again. “I think this interview is going to take longer than I thought. It might take weeks for us to get to know each other to really know if we can live together or not.”

She skinned his foreskin back and sucked the tip of his cock before pulling off and looking up again.

“Bob could climax three times before he went soft.”

“I’ve never tried that,” he panted.

“Well, then, I suppose that’s the first question we should answer in your interview.”

Five minutes later Homer gasped, “I’m going to cum!”

Lonny pulled off of him and pinched the base of his cock. He groaned, but only leaked one long drip. Lonny caught it on her finger and sucked it clean.

“You already had plans and hopes and dreams,” she said. “You didn’t plan on this. You didn’t ask for this.”

“I was going to look for a job,” he said. “That’s pretty much it. And there isn’t a man on Earth who wouldn’t ask for this.” The innuendo was obvious.

“It isn’t fair to you to approach things this way,” said Lonny as she stroked his long bone, gently. “I’m afraid I really do miss him so much it’s affecting my judgment.”

“I forgive you,” he said.

She stood and let go of his cock. She held his face in both hands and kissed him gently. It turned into two more unhurried exchanges.

“I’ll be blunt,” she said.

He barked a laugh.

“Please do,” he said. “I like it when you’re blunt.”

“Bob wanted me to give him four children,” she said. “I was willing to do that but we only had time for one. When he died one reason I was devastated was that I thought his bloodline was gone. Now I know it is not. It lives on in you. You are the last of his acknowledged blood line, at least. I think that should be secured further. I am not on birth control and I can already tell you your first interview has been very positive. What I’m saying is I will want to do further interviews. Do I need to go on birth control?”

“If I say no, you could get pregnant,” he panted.

“That’s true, but if you’re going to live here, and can’t keep a girlfriend, maybe you need to assure your line goes on in other ways.”

“You’d really let me do that?”

“I loved your uncle. In fact I loved him more than I loved the father of my two daughters. In his own way, he recommended you as a potential mate for me and as a solution to my withdrawal. I trust his judgment completely, or at least enough to interview you thoroughly. I’d hate to have to find somebody else; a stranger, perhaps. Do you want me to interview strangers?”

“No,” he growled. “I already know I don’t want that.”

“Then carry on. You can cum, now.”

“What if I go soft after I cum?”

“Then we’ll have to start a training regimen. You’ll have to let me interview you every day, perhaps more than once a day.”

“Fuuuck,” he groaned.

“That’s the idea,” she said, sweetly.

There was a couch nearby and neither wanted to take the time to go find a bed. Within five minutes he was lunging into her, gasping, “I can’t believe this!”

“Believe it,” she panted. “I can tell you have a lot to learn, though. We’re going to have to spend a lot of time doing this.”

“I’m sold,” he gasped. “I wonder what Uncle ... what my dad would say if he was here right now?”

“I know what he’d want me to say!” she yipped.

“What?”

“Breed me, big man,” she whispered. “Breed me.”