Jean, Abby and Robert
Copyright© 2026 by Robin
Chapter 4
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Robert, an unlikely babysitter becomes a family member.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Coercion Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction First Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Babysitter
“How do I look?” Jean had tried on most of her wardrobe, discarding dress after dress and looking critically in the mirror at her reflection, only to dump each ensemble in an untidy and ever-growing pile of clothing on the bed. The dress she had settled on was a low-cut, figure-hugging, black velvet evening dress with a low-neck line and a slit to mid-thigh. It was slimming, not that Jean needed it, and very flattering to her shape.
“You know, I think that’s it. You look fabulous, Mum; it just needs some pearls or something.” Abby was also going through the same pile of clothes, but found them just a little too small for her. She had grown to the same height as her mother, but had yet to flare out into full womanhood. Her hips were too thin, and her boobs, now in a training bra, still had a way to go. “I want to get my ears pierced. If we’re sharing a man, then we should share jewellery” Her mischievous grin split her face and caused Jean to laugh.
Even though she had laughed at Abby’s jest, Jean was not happy that she had been manoeuvred into acceptance of her daughter’s proposal. On one hand, Abby was way too young, in her opinion, to engage in sexual relations, but on a rather more fundamental level, she wanted Robert all to herself. She wasn’t happy that Abby had taken herself to the Doctor without telling her. She was furious that he had prescribed Abby birth control pills without letting her know. It might be a stupid law in this crazy, politically correct world that the patient’s rights are paramount and that confidentiality prevents him from saying anything. But she had hoped that her relationship with the Doctor was good enough that he might have let her know somehow. The realisation that he would have needed to examine Abby internally, without her permission or presence, appalled her, but that is English law, and as a parent, you are dammed if you do and dammed if you don’t.
Abby was just peeling off a shimmering silver metallic party frock Jean had bought years ago to attend some function or another with her ex-husband. She looked at her developing daughter, feeling a pang as her slender body was revealed, noticing the first fluffs of hair under her arms and her budding breasts, nestling in the training bra they had bought a few weeks ago in Marks and Spencer’s.
“Abby...” Jean sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the dress to hit the pile of clothing, waited for Abby’s attention. “You know, I am not entirely comfortable with our agreement and think I have told you why. You are so young and should be enjoying your childhood...”
“I am not a child, Mum. I’m not like Suzy or Claire, who are still silly and stuff.” There was a warning note in her voice that brooked no nonsense. Her two best friends were juvenile in comparison. That was true, in all things, but that was how Jean thought Abby should be and indeed, would have preferred her to be like.
“I know you’re not a child, darling, but even so...” She shrugged, allowing her body language to complete the sentence.
“Look, and this is how it is going to be. I don’t intend to jump into bed with Robert every chance I get. I don’t have any plans at all in that direction, but what I am trying to agree with you on is the fact that I might want to and that you agree. Okay?” Abby’s body language was letting Jean know that she meant business, and there was no argument good enough to change her mind. “Now, are we going to get dressed here or what?”
There had been a subtle shift of power between Mother and Daughter since Jean’s vulnerability, and her new condition had become apparent. The essential things were still with Jean, of course, but Abby was no longer the little girl, the child of the family. Suddenly, she had adopted an equal footing in the house, a sharing of decision-making and had become more of a friend or co-conspirator with her mother. It meant that, providing her demands were not outlandish, her will held sway or at least was seriously considered. She had, overnight, developed a maturity which amazed her even.
Robert was expected at around seven o’clock. They had conspired to feed him with something lavish, then let him have the news. Giggling conspirators that they were, a meal had been planned, candles and wine organised, and even a centrepiece of silk flowers had been brought down from the loft and dusted off. A memento of Jean’s wedding feast, from so long and another life ago. With everything ready, the two made final touches to their appearance and waited excitedly for him to arrive.
Robert was late, as usual. Only ten minutes, but they had been a very long ten minutes to endure. Finding them both dressed as if for a funeral or something, then the laid out table waiting for him to take his place aroused his suspicions that something was in the wind.
“Well, you two look lovely, almost as good as the table.” He received a playful clout on his upper arm from Abby. “Is there an occasion?” He racked his brain to see if he had forgotten a birthday, or anniversary or something. Jean left Abby to see to Robert while she went to the kitchen to bring dinner in.
“Can’t we give our man a treat once in a while?” Abby grasped his arm in her own and led him to the head chair of the table. “Mum will be bringing the food through in a moment, so sit and relax.” He felt a vague unease, wondering what this was about, knowing that something was afoot, but clueless about what it could be.
Eventually, Jean brought steaming plates of food to the table, heated dinner plates and a chilled bottle of Chablis. The meal was portioned out onto plates, and they chatted about inconsequential things over the food.
Robert felt a bit like a rabbit trapped in the headlamps of an onrushing car, feeling the air of excitement and expectancy between them, but joined in the chitchat, offering his own opinions when they were asked for. He noticed for the first time just how much Abby was a carbon copy of her mother, albeit a younger version and somewhat underdeveloped in comparison. They shared the same hair colouring, a rich brown with auburn accents, both cut to the shoulder and lying in perfectly straight lines as if freshly combed. Hazel eyes framed by long dark lashes that didn’t need the aid of cosmetics to enhance them, clear, unadorned skin and long necks. Abby was the same height now, and he noticed, had started to fill out a little more than when they had lain together seven months or so ago. He blushed at the memory and, for an uncountable time, put the memory back in the compartmentalised space in his mind called ‘not to be opened’.
Once the plates had been cleared away to the dishwasher, Abby and Jean came back to the table where they had insisted Robert stay; they sat, facing him like judges at the bench. He felt a thrill of trepidation, knowing that he was about to learn what this evening had been about.
It was Abby who opened the rather more serious conversation than the idle chat over the meal.
“Robert...” She squared her shoulders towards him, trapping his eyes as she did so. “We have something to tell you, haven’t we, Mum?” Jean nodded as Robert’s eyes escaped Abby’s for a moment.
“Okay...” He drew the word out and waited, thinking, this is how Damocles must have felt. His heart rate quickened. He felt a mixture of fear, dread and anticipation, all commingling at the same time, as he waited for the crux of the evening to unfold. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, he said, “Well?”
Jean looked up from her lap, found his eyes and let him have it straight off.
“You are going to be a father, I’m pregnant.”
He didn’t know what to expect, but this was several light-years away from anything he had imagined. Typically, of a man, knocked off his equilibrium, he reserved any emotion until he knew how she felt about the news.
“Oh ... I err ... um ... how?”
“How do you think, dummy?” Abby chimed in.
“No, I meant, how do you feel about it?” But neither of them was going to let him off the hook, keeping stern, emotionless faces, both directed straight at him.
“How do you feel about it, Robert?” Asked Abby, taking the lead in the unequal conversation. “What are you going to do about it?”
He ignored the first question, feeling that to was too dangerous to answer right now.
“Do? I don’t know; it’s all a bit of a shock, really.” He was floundering and becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to offer an opinion on something so momentous without first establishing how the woman felt. It is a pre-programmed response pattern in men, designed to make sure he doesn’t say the wrong thing and be diametrically opposed to her feelings.
A glance between the two signalled a swathe of laughter and smiles. Relieved, Robert was able to let out a whoosh of air and laugh with them. He was delighted, really. He, a father, with the woman he loved so much; how perfect would that be?
Practicalities of what this would all mean to them would come later. This moment was for celebrations. Had he thought about it, he would have realised that the two were stringing him along. All the preparations, did kind of give it away.
They hugged, a three-way group, sharing in the joy of the news.
“When did you find out?” Robert asked Jean.
“It was Abby who told me. Gawd knows how she knew, but she was right, the tester said so, and my doctor has confirmed that I am about nine weeks along.” She kissed his cheek and squeezed his shoulder delightedly.
“It was easy really, we cycle together and when you didn’t, well it didn’t take Einstein to work it out.”
They talked for some time after, getting used to the idea, but then the inevitable question came. It was Jean who asked it.
“What are we going to do about the future, Robert? You are still at university and have to finish that, but I am the only breadwinner here” Then the germ of an idea lodged. “I suppose we could sell this place and find something smaller. The money would see us through for a while. I will get maternity leave with pay, so that would be okay.”
“Wouldn’t your husband want half the proceeds?”