Chapter 12

I had not cum. In fact I hadn’t felt the urge to even try to. It was enjoyable enough to watch both of them get their cookies that I was pretty much satisfied.

Harper climbed off, wincing as overstressed tissues finally complained, instead of urging her on. She lay down almost carefully, gently pushing her mother aside as she settled between us.

I lifted my head to look at my tool, which looked vaguely alien to me. I suddenly wanted the alien cover off and reached to tug at it. It was too slippery and tight. I had a vague concern that it might be like a little tourniquet on my penis, slowly cutting off blood flow and leading to my cock falling off.

“Let me help,” said Hannah, climbing over her daughter and returning the favor of pushing her aside. Her long, pointed fingernails did the trick and she slid a finger inside the sheath, getting a grip with her thumb. Now the lubrication both women had left on me helped, though I winced at one point as her other hand came into play and things got stretched to the maximum as she pulled.

I sighed as the thing finally popped free. Hannah looked at it critically and tossed it onto the floor.

“It was fun, but I like you this way, too,” she said, reaching to slowly stroke my now naked penis.

“I’m glad,” I said.

“You didn’t cum,” she said.

“I had plenty of fun,” I assured her.

“You especially didn’t cum in Harper,” she said. “For that, you deserve a reward.”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, still stroking.

“I’ve gone to sleep with a hardon before,” I said.

“I’ll take care of it in the morning, then,” she offered.

“I’d like that a lot,” I responded.

“Okay.”

She kissed me and got up to go to the bathroom. Harper rolled back against me and flung an arm and leg across me, murmuring in happy little tones.

Which is why, when Hannah got back, she got into bed on the other side of her daughter and pulling the sheet over us all before turning out the light.

I should have let her drain the swamp before I went to sleep. Not because I had a hard time getting to sleep. I didn’t.

I should have let her drain the swamp because if she had, I might not have had that dream, later that night, in which I mounted Hannah and spermed her but good.

As it turned out, it was a very interactive dream ... but the woman I mounted and spermed, but good, wasn’t Hannah.

It was Harper.

I came into the world of the fully conscious and realized I was having great sex. The woman under me, who my mind assumed was Hannah, was also fully conscious and very appreciative of what I was doing. My mind was still fuzzy, but my body knew what to do, and it was rhythmically stroking into the lusciously hot pussy below me.

Now the shoe was on the other foot, and it was my body that was acting on instinct. I admit I didn’t really care about the pleasure of my partner at that point, and just wanted to release the pressure in my own body.

That’s exactly what I did. I just rabbit-stroked until the dam burst and the soothing feeling of semen pulsing through my penis made stars appear on the insides of my eyelids. I froze, deep inside her and just let things happen. Then I fell to her side, not even trying to keep myself in her.

I felt her hands find my face, followed by warm lips against mine.

“Wow!” she whispered.

That’s when I realized it was Harper I had just inseminated.

There wasn’t anything I could do about it then. And she wasn’t unhappy about things. The next morning she was walking a little bowlegged, and limping around like she had arthritis in her knees but nobody thought that was odd. Hannah, in fact, said, “I’ll get you an aspirin, but you’ll be fine by tonight.”

“I have to feel this way all day?” complained Harper.

“You did this to yourself,” said Hannah.

Nobody mentioned that there had been a second round, or that I had donated millions of sperm, this time, to the mix. I know why Harper didn’t. She didn’t want either of us to get in trouble. I should have said something though, by that time, it was much too late to do anything about it. I never once thought about the Morning After pill.

Actually, I thought about it the next day, but I assumed that was too late, as well. Don’t sneer. I’d never looked into emergency contraception. I hadn’t needed to. So I didn’t know it was viable for five days instead of just one.

Why have I gone down this rabbit hole about emergency contraception, or rather the lack of it?

Because I felt guilty, that’s why. And I kept feeling guilty, which subtly affected the way I acted around both of them. Not only did I not talk to Hannah about it, I didn’t talk to Harper, either. She acted so normal it was difficult for me to believe my own memories. She was just Harper, acting like Harper had always acted. She didn’t drape her arms around my neck and give me a sultry look as she said something like, “Hey, stud, is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

What helped make it surreal was that Hannah didn’t do that either. Neither of them acted like I was their lover, or at least how I expected a woman to act like, if she was my lover. Of course the only other sexual relationships I’d had were with women who went home the next morning, and didn’t hang around to spend domestic time with me.

This is not to say Hannah had lost interest. Not at all. Her attitude was friendly and warm, and I got kisses and hugs. It’s good that she didn’t demand sexual attention over the next couple of days, because I was a wreck with worry about Harper and probably wouldn’t have been able to perform.

Then, in the middle of the next week, when I went over, Harper was lying on the couch with an afghan over her. She was moaning.

“Hey,” I said. “You okay?”

“Go away,” she growled.

I found Hannah in the kitchen and asked her what was up.

“She’s got particularly bad cramping this month,” she said.

“Cramping?”

“The captain is at home,” said Hannah.

“Captain?” I frowned. This was all very confusing.

“She’s on her period,” sighed Hannah.

“Period.”

My mind processed that and produced something I’m sure sounded pretty crazy.

“That’s great!“ I gasped.

“That’s kind of insensitive, don’t you think?” said Hannah, frowning.

Now I was stuck with trying to explain why I thought it was great that Harper was in agony. But I was still too chicken to admit what had happened, so I went to a hasty plan B kind of explanation.

“I was afraid I might have leaked in her a little bit the other night.”

“Oh,” said Hannah. “Do men do that ... leak?”

“Sure,” I assured her. “You know about precum, right?”

“I’ve heard the term,” she said. “I never had a conversation about it with anybody, though.”

“Well that happens before sex, but it can happen during sex, too,” I said, inventing a biological process.

“Have you gotten any condoms yet?” she asked. “Real condoms?”

“Uh ... no, actually,” I said. “I guess I had other things on my mind.”

“Like whether Harper was pregnant or not?”

“Yeah.”

“And when were you going to inform me of these concerns?” Now her voice sounded less friendly.

“Um ... I guess I didn’t think about that, either.”

“And things were going so well,” she sighed.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Things are going well. Harper isn’t pregnant!”

“I thought I’d finally gotten the man I’ve wanted for years, and now I find out he has dementia.”

“I don’t have dementia,” I yelped.

“Bob,” she sighed. “We’re going to get married and share our lives together forever. I had hoped that would mean sharing everything about our lives, including our worries and concerns. I could have helped you get through this.”

“Oh,” I said. “I guess I panicked a little bit.”

“Over a little precum getting inside her?”

The guilt that had been eating away at me finally broke through to the surface. I knew I shouldn’t, but I confessed.

“Well ... I had this dream later that night ... and I sort of acted it out. I thought it was you, honest. I mean the dream was about you and me, except when I woke up it wasn’t you.”

She blinked. Then she opened her mouth, only to close it again and blinked several more times.

“You had sex with her later that night.”

“Uh ... yeah. I guess I did. I didn’t mean to. It just ... happened.”

She folded her arms under her breasts.

“And neither of you told me about it.”

“I’m really sorry,” I groaned. “I just felt so bad about it and it was too late to do anything about it and...” I shrugged, helplessly.

She stood there for half a minute, just staring at me.

“I must have been sleeping like the dead,” she said, startling me. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s never been like that for me before.”

“It was an accident,” I said.

“Oh, give it up,” she snorted. “You wanted to do it and you did. She wanted you to do it, too. And I aided and abetted you. It was insanity to think once things started that they could be controlled.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I was just so terrified. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Talk to me about it!” she yelled. “That’s what you should have done about it.”

“You’re right,” I said.

Harper stumbled into the room.

“Why are you guys yelling? How is someone supposed to rest when people are yelling?”

“We were talking about you, actually,” said Hannah.

“Me? Why?”

“We were talking about you being on your period,” said Hannah.

“What?“ Harper was obviously upset. “Why?“

“Well,” said Hannah, casually, “It seems Bob was worried that he knocked you up ... seeing as how the two of you got busy in bed in the middle of the night.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Something you neglected to inform me of, by the way. But it’s all good. You’re obviously not pregnant. He was just glad that wasn’t the case.”

“Mom,” said Harper, hesitantly. She was very alert.

“Don’t tell me,” said Hannah, frowning again. “You didn’t think I’d understand. You didn’t want me to be mad. You didn’t want me to worry. Shall I go on?”

Harper opened her mouth, but then closed it. She slumped her shoulders.

“No,” she said.

“I’m very disappointed. In both of you.”

“I think he was asleep,” said Harper. “If that helps.”

“He was,” said Hannah. “But you weren’t.”

“What was I supposed to do? Push him off? Yell rape?”

“I was right there!“ yelled Hannah.

Harper straightened her shoulders. Her stubborn streak appeared from nowhere.

“Right. I was supposed to shake you awake and say, ‘Hey Mom, guess what? Uncle Bob’s groaning your name while he’s fucking me but I don’t actually mind because what he’s doing feels pretty good,’ and then beg you to do something?”

Hannah blinked.

“He was saying my name?”

Harper adopted a falsely low voice and then hammed it up.

“Oh, Hannah, oh baby, oh Hannah, uh ... uh ... uh.”

I was astonished that, while she did this, she started thrusting her hips rhythmically, like a male miming having sex.

Then she stopped and bent over, groaning. Apparently her cramps had returned.

“Go lie down,” said Hannah. “I’ll bring you an ibuprofen in a minute.”

“I wish I could die,” groaned Harper. She turned and hobbled back towards the living room.

I stared at Hannah. I was actually speechless.

“Do you remember that?” she asked, staring back.

“Uh ... not really,” I admitted.

She shook her head.

“Dementia,” she sighed. “You stay here while I take care of her. I have an idea. It’s crazy ... actually it’s not, but it seems crazy. I need to talk to her about it first.”

“Right,” I said.

I was actually relieved to be left alone in the kitchen.

I might not have been so relieved, had I known what Hannah had in mind. It appears that, when she got married, her mother gave her some advice. Hannah had difficult periods too, when she was younger, and her very pragmatic mother knew of a “home remedy” that had helped women in the family over the generations.

It was to engage in coitus during the period, which did something that made cramping muscles relax.

I have since done some research on the internet and discovered this is a better known “secret” than I’d have ever believed. Many doctors, in fact, recommend having sex during a woman’s period, for exactly the reasons Hannah had in mind.

Harper was horrified, though I didn’t see that part of the process. The pain she was going through, though, outweighed her initial disgust with the whole idea and she eventually got to the, “What the hell. Anything is worth a try,” stage of things.

Then Hannah had to come back and convince me to “treat” her daughter’s malady as well.

I won’t go into the details of that conversation, or the process of actually getting to ... things. A towel was involved and a desperately unhappy and embarrassed teenage girl. Hannah performed as a fluffer of sorts. It was generally not the kind of atmosphere in which to expect anything erotic to occur.

Until, that is, the treatment actually began to work. I’ll never forget the look that came over Harper’s face as she was thoroughly astonished that the pain lessened, and then lessened some more, until she was able to relax.