Chapter 11

Mandy’s reaction to their conversation about fate was complicated. She’d never been one to hop into a relationship with serious overtones unless she felt seriously about the man. She didn’t have sex for fun. Going on dates and engaging in a little foreplay was one thing, but letting a man inside her meant he was acceptable as a significant contender for her eggs. She knew too many women for whom birth control hadn’t controlled anything, so there was no such thing as ‘safe sex’ in Mandy’s book. Matt had never been a contender, though if he’d tried she would have accepted him. What had happened with Tony scared the crap out of her, at least until she had a period. Then there was Steve, who she hoped against all hope would leave her with his child inside her. She had to admit she’d been less sure about Ryan, but he was an island in a mild storm, so she went for it. Now she was relieved his seed hadn’t taken root in those few times before the wedding ceremony, after she’d gone off the pill, when she’d let him in her bareback.

It occurred to her that Ryan might be responsible for how she felt about the possibility of his uncle exposing her to the same risk. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to Bob on many levels, only one of which was a deep, sexual level. His age mattered not. Nor did his appearance. She was attracted to the man, not what society saw of him on the outside. She had wanted to follow him to bed, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to resist a complete, sexual relationship if she did.

But it was also the fact that she didn’t want to bring a child into a world where it had less than a full pair of committed parents waiting for it, parents who were committed to each other as well. Her mother was still with her in that sense. She wanted the whole ball of wax, not just bits and pieces of it. She had a hard time believing that Bob was the man to join into that commitment. Now she wondered why she felt that way. Was that Ryan’s faults being passed on to his uncle?

“I don’t want to break your heart,” she said again. “I know how that feels.”

“Well you’ve got a lot firmer grip on it than I expected you to,” he said. “I’m not trying to guilt you into anything. It’s just the truth. I haven’t felt for a woman what I feel for you in a long, long time.”

“Little, baby me?” Something demanded she lighten the mood.

His hand came to her breast, braless under her T shirt.

“You’re no baby,” he said, softly.

“Since we’re playing tell all, I want four children,” she said. She watched to see what his face told her.

“Four. Hmmmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it means you have to plan them, so they’re spaced right. I mean you don’t want all four in diapers at the same time, right?”

“Okay.”

“May we assume, for the sake of argument, that these children might be raised on a ... say ... ranch?”

She blinked. Her heart started beating faster.

“Just for the sake of argument,” she said.

“Well then, you need to have them at least three years apart so they can help take care of each other, be playmates to each other, and start work in a way that lets the ... rancher ... spend plenty of time with them singly. Four years apart would be even better, logistically speaking.”

“I’ve heard of family planning,” said Mandy, “But that’s taking it to the max, don’t you think?”

“Well, the alternative is for mamma to be puttering around the house, taking care of Junior, and for pappa to come in and say, ‘Hey there, sweet thang. It’s been a while since I swole up your belly and you’re looking might sexy today. C’mere and let’s get busy.’” He smiled. “I mean that’s kind of random, don’t you think?”

“I expect my man to act like that whether I’m actually trying to get pregnant or not,” she said, firmly.

“Point taken,” said Bob. “I just think like a rancher and on a ranch, everybody in the family is also a potential employee.”

“Even at four or five?” Mandy frowned.

“There’s no reason in the world a child can’t sit solid in a saddle by age five,” said Bob. “You know the horse does most of the work anyway.”

“Yes, until you get down off him,” said Mandy. “I’m shuddering as I try to imagine some poor child wandering in the muck of the corral, surrounded by huge animals that could step on him any second.”

“Of course I wouldn’t put a five-year-old in that situation,” scoffed Bob.

“Good,” said Mandy, sounding relieved.

“I’d wait until he was seven or eight,” said Bob, firmly.

“You’re awful!” she yipped, poking him in the chest.

“You, Miss, are abusing my chest. Turnabout is fair play,” he said. Instead of poking her, he reached under her shirt and gripped one full breast. He mauled it gently and let his fingers find the nipple, squeezing it firmly.

“Not fair,” she said. She kissed him. “I can’t reach anything interesting.”

“I have what those three girls this afternoon might call a mondo, crunk boner. I would be delighted to move so that you may approach it and play with it to your heart’s content.”

“Crunk?”

“It’s the latest in cool speech. According to Stephanie, it’s a word somebody invented by combining crazy and drunk. If something is crunk, it’s really cool.”

“You have a crazy, drunk penis?”

“What I have is a very stiff penis. Do you think that will be enough?”

“Hmmmm,” said Mandy. “I might have to actually inspect it before I could make a decision like that.”

She squawked as he stood up, dumping her on the floor. Within seconds his pants were down around his knees and his erection was waving in the cool air.

“How’s about that, huh?” he asked, proudly, holding his shirt up to his chest. “I have to give credit where credit is due, though. If I was getting an award for this, I’d have to thank Amanda Schilling for her inspiration and assistance.”

“Awww, you say the sweetest things,” she said. “My hip hurts.”

“I am so sorry!” said Bob, hamming it up. “I guess I was so excited to show you what you’d accomplished that I didn’t think. Here, get up. Let me kiss that hip and make it all better. Of course I’ll have to kiss the skin directly for it to do any good. Off with those jeans, Missy!”

He started pulling at her clothing and, of course, she resisted, laughing and trying to tickle him. That didn’t work, though, because he wasn’t ticklish. She fought valiantly, but within five minutes he had her jeans down around her knees. His were completely off and all he had on was a shirt. As Mandy tried to pull her jeans back up he attacked her T shirt, pulling it up and over her head, trapping her arms above her.

“Gotcha!” he said, triumphantly, pushing her down on the couch with one hand and obstructing her attempts to get her arms free with the other. She was ticklish, and he tortured her with that hand while he jerked on her jeans, finally pulling them off inside-out.

“Beast!” shrieked Mandy.

“Beauty,” sighed Bob, leaning in to suck a nipple.

“Stop that!” she yelled. “Help! Rape!”

“I am wounded,” said Bob. “I would never rape you. If that ever happens you’ll be begging me to do it.”

“Hah!” she yelled, finally pulling the shirt off and freeing her arms. “When pigs fly, buster.”

“She doesn’t know,” said Bob to an invisible person to his right. “She actually doesn’t know!”

“Know what?” she asked, her voice guarded.

He grinned.

“We have a whole flock of flying pigs right here in Brown County. We keep them over by the lake so they can come in for a landing on something softer than a pasture.”

“You know what?” she said, arching one eyebrow. “You’re going to be sorry for that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’m going to kiss you some more and get you all excited. Then I’m going to suck that dick you’re so proud of, except right in the middle of it I’m going to bite it off!”

“Impossible,” he said, grinning. “You’d break your teeth, and then I’d have to feed you through a straw.”

Some sixty seconds later they were no longer taunting each other. The desire to tease had left them and they were locked in a torrid embrace, their lips locked together. To an alien visitor it would have looked like they were trying to eat each other’s face off, but that, apparently, the process didn’t hurt.

Hands wandered and soon his middle finger was buried in her clasping sheath while her hand lovingly stroked his erection.

They made out like teenagers, though most teenagers don’t do that stark naked. Rather it should be said teens don’t do something like that for that long. For the young and inexperienced, things tend to hurry along and there is an unstated eagerness for the act of breeding to be completed.

For the more mature, however, there is more control, or at least there can be. This was a complicated relationship, and such associations require patience and tender care to flourish. A good example of the difference between young and old is this. For a young man who fingers his partner, that process usually involves digging around frantically until the female has an orgasm, or she gets impatient about the fact that she hasn’t had one. Then the finger is removed and matters proceed in some other fashion. In this case, Bob probed her pussy trying to get the tip of his finger as deep inside her as possible. That fingertip located her ectocervix and rimmed the tight opening he wasn’t aware even had a name, the external os. Then he dragged his finger out of her, stroking the wall of her vaginal tunnel with the pad of the finger. He petted her labia for a while, rubbing them in a circle, and then penetrated her again. This time his finger sought for a rough patch of skin in her vagina, but under her mons, commonly called the G spot. The fact that his finger was so callused he couldn’t differentiate between “smooth” and “rough,” when it came to vaginal tissues, didn’t matter. His intent was to give her pleasure, rather than hurrying to seek his own.

This went on for most of an hour, with him penetrating her and then removing the invading digit. It wasn’t so much an effort to produce an orgasm in her as it was an extended, playful, erotic massage of sorts. And her hand did the same thing with his prick. She stroked, and squeezed, and used her short fingernails to scratch at the sensitive head lightly. One thing he loved was when she squeezed as hard as she could and then moved her hand as far as she could, downwards, almost as if she was trying to force his erection into his body. Then she did the same thing in reverse, squeezing hard and pulling upwards. Again, there was no intent to make him spurt. It was just to extend the pleasure.

Youngsters would have been finished in ten or fifteen minutes. Bob and Mandy went for an hour before things got really urgent in either of them.

It seems counterintuitive, but that extended sexual play ... that hour of foreplay ... made Mandy ready for something her higher brain functions didn’t want to be ready for. This was realized when Bob finally stopped kissing her and moved her so he could stand up. Then he moved her again until she was leaning back against the back of the couch with her legs spread. He knelt on the floor, moving between her knees as his hands spread them.

In this position she was open ... defenseless ... vulnerable. But he didn’t rush to get his penis in her. Even at this point he knew that would not be welcomed. Instead, he pushed his belly against the edge of the couch and leaned in to feast on her nipples, going back and forth from one to the other. Her hands came to his head, but only lightly, as her fingertips wandered through his hair.

He pulled back again, standing on his knees.

“I know you don’t want this, but I want to touch you ... just a little.”

“You’ve been touching me for an hour,” she said, smiling dreamily.

“I mean like this.”

He fisted his prick and kneed forward until he could just touch the tip against her labia. She watched as he used it to spread her lips. He swabbed the tip up and down between them, making sure he touched her clit on the upstroke.

“I’m not happy right now,” she said.

“I know. I just had to see what it felt like.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I like that ... a lot.”

“Well that’s a good thing,” he said.

“No it’s not. You’re making it very difficult for me to resist you.”

“And it’s important to resist me because... ?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not on any birth control.”

“Oh.” He pulled the tip away from her opening.

“That’s just one consideration,” she said. “I keep arguing with myself about ... well ... you.”

“I’m a prince of a fellow,” he said. He jacked his cock slowly, almost as if he wasn’t aware he was doing it.

“I didn’t come here for this,” she said.

“I’m aware of that.”

“So I shouldn’t allow it,” she said.

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Are there other ways to look at it?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“First, let me say something. Then I’ll ask. I’ll be honest. I’d love nothing more than to put this in you and hear you have an orgasm while I loved you with it. I’ll keep being honest and tell you that the fact that you aren’t protected is not a barrier to my desire to do that. That’s just how I feel. My question is ... how do you feel about that?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“No, you said you were trying to stay on track, to resist going on any detours. You didn’t say how you felt.”

“You just said you wanted to put that in me, even though I’m not protected. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“I’m not interested in how you’re supposed to feel,” he said. “I just want to know how you do feel.”

“Scared,” she said.

“Because of the danger.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s the crazy part,” she said. “That’s not what scares me.”

“Then what?”

She blinked, and licked her lips.

“What scares me is that I want you to put it in me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he sighed. “I don’t want you to be afraid, but I hoped you’d want to go further.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“No. I haven’t needed them for years.” He didn’t point out that he had another whole pair of lovers, who regularly let him put his erection in them bare. Nor did he explain that they were old enough that their fertility had waned significantly. Such information wouldn’t have been helpful.

“Curses,” she muttered.

“Foiled again?”

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