Chapter 19

Joe awoke from a dream where he fucked Moe rather intensely, to a giggle and his cock filling Constance’s mouth. Cheryl winked at him, her face close to Constance’s, before sucking in one of his balls.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Cumming!”

“Mph,” Constance reacted, swallowing gamely before Cheryl took over and drank what remained of his cum. He pulled Constance up, but remembered his morning breath. “Orange juice on the table,” said Cheryl. He saw it and drank it and brought Constance’s spermy mouth to his lips. Her resistance ended quickly, and it became a lovely, warm kiss. When it ended, she murmured, “May I?” gesturing to the half full glass.

“Of course,” he smiled.

She drank and handed it down to Cheryl to finish it.

He glanced at the clock. Maybe ten minutes after he set the clock.

“You didn’t wake up,” Cheryl explained. “We decided to wake you up properly.”

“Thank you. Uhm, did I mention any names before I awoke.”

“Something about Moe being a bitch,” said Cheryl. “Dreaming of an angry fuck?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Hopefully it gets you over her.”

“I’m getting there,” he admitted.

“Good.”

“Constance, go make us breakfast. Shower Cheryl?”

“The other way around, Joe,” Cheryl said. “I’m staying here. I need to make some long distance phone calls. I’ll pay Joanne back.”

“Of course. Who are you calling?”

“NME. I need to give them your number. I figure you’ll know where I am and can give them the info.”

“Sure. They couldn’t have the article by now.”

“Articles actually. And the photos. Faxed. Laura let me use the hotel’s fax machine. She said they wouldn’t even notice. Next time we’re in New York, she deserves a nice fuck, Joe.”

“Okay,” he chuckled.

“I mailed them the prints, of course. But they’ll have the articles to edit. Anyway, after that, I plan on napping then working on my Rolling Stone article. Another long distance call to Jules, my San Francisco friend.”

“Constance. Shower.”

“Yes Joe.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to make breakfast,” said Cheryl as they watched Constance’s loose yet muscular, full yet not big ass shifting before it disappeared into the bathroom. “I don’t want to burn down Joanne’s nice house.”

“Can you manage toast?”

“I think so.”

“And coffee?”

“I’ll give it the college try,” she giggled before giving him a quick kiss and scampering off naked. Another ass to watch, this one nearly perfect.

He grabbed the bathroom door and found it locked. “Just give me a few minutes,” he heard.

“Just unlock it when you’re done.”

“Yes Joe. Sorry.”

“Not a problem. We all have to go sometime.”

“True,” she laughed.

He headed to his former bathroom where he did what she was doing and unwrapped a new toothbrush, his being in the master bathroom.

By the time he returned, the door had been unlocked and he could hear the shower. So he joined Constance.

They kissed. “Did you want...” she asked, reaching for his penis.

“Not enough time. Good of you to anticipate, but tell me what you want. None of the hesitating shit. And no euphemisms,” he scolded, spanking her ass.

“Yes Joe. I’ll be good.”

“That’s okay. You’re just building up the number of whippings you deserve.”

She trembled.

“You’re my horny little bitch, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“All the time with you,” she murmured.

His finger rubbed across her clit. “Still sore?”

“A little.”

“Fuck it. You know what to do.” He knelt and sucked her clit. Nibbled a little. She pulled her tits as far out as possible via her nipples. And came. He swallowed, keeping him from laughing.

Standing, he supported her lax body and kissed her deeply. “I guess we had time,” he chuckled.

She blushed.

“Now clean me.”

She started to kneel. He chuckled. “The washcloth will be fine.”

“You sure?” she sounded disappointed.

“Am I ever unsure?” he growled.

“No Joe. Sorry.”

He nodded. She did manage to spend more time than necessary cleaning his penis. It seemed to have become her favorite toy. “It’s clean enough,” he told her.

“Yes Joe.” She cleaned the rest of him. Another washcloth in his hand cleaned her simultaneously. Carefully around her pussy lips and asshole, though he did press into the latter hole to clean it thoroughly. “Mmm,” she reacted.

“You’re really sensitive there,” he commented.

“I ... like the naughtiness.”

“And you want me to spank it out of you.”

“If I deserve it.”

“And whip it out of you.”

“Yes Joe,” she purred. “May ... may I kiss you?”

“You may.”

She did. Enthusiastically. Her entire body pushed against him. When it finally ended, she gazed into his eyes. “What you do to me Joe,” she murmured.

“I feel the same,” he confessed.

“You do?”

“Yesterday was some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had.”

“Me too,” she blushed. “Except it was the hottest.”

“I’m glad,”

She grinned and hugged and kissed him again. He shortened it. “We really should be going.”

“Yes Joe,” she pulled on his hardened cock.

He slapped her hand off. “Naughty girl.”

“Your naughty bitch,” she grinned.

They ended the shower reluctantly for both of them, drying separately. She found a light blouse and shorts that sort of fit her. No underwear. He knew the thought of that would make him hard. And maybe, from time to time, he’d sneak a feel. Though he considered it, he decided not to go commando. Being around her his state of excitement would be too obvious. Tighty whiteys would keep it less obvious.

Cheryl managed to toast bread and brew a decent cup of coffee. Joanne had one of those brewers that grinded the coffee fresh. He congratulated her with a kiss for figuring it out, even though he had faith in her abundant intelligence. They lingered on it. They heard Constance sigh. “You really are cute together,” she said. “And sexy.”

“I’m in love with the lunk,” said Cheryl, “and hope we remain cute and sexy for a long time.”

“Even though he has other lovers?”

“I sleep around too,” Cheryl shrugged. “But only Joe gets my cunt rubber free.”

“Really?” said Constance. He thought she meant about sleeping around. “Me too, about condoms.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Like I said, Jonathon’s afraid to get me pregnant. And ... well ... when I think about it, I’m not sure I want his naked cock after fucking some kids asshole.” Her explicitness made her beam at him proudly.

“But if you get pregnant?” he practically stuttered.

“I’ll say his condom must have leaked?” she shrugged.

“Pregnant?” Cheryl gasped.

“Constance told me, after the fact by the way, that she had no protection.”

“You’re supposed to figure that out before,” Cheryl pouted cutely, her fist on her wonderfully naked hips.

“I assumed she couldn’t,” he said.

“You know what they say about assumptions.”

“Ass between you and me?”

“I’m not ready for that, for being pregnant,” Cheryl switched gears.

“I’m probably too ready. Or at least too long,” said Constance. “My maternal bell’s been ringing for a long time, and I’m on the cusp of being too old.”

“You probably need to be careful with it,” Cheryl nodded.

“Yeah. I’m well versed in the dangers of being forty and pregnant. And I have a mental component added on.”

“But you think it’s worth it?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“What do you think about it, Joe?”

“I truly believe I live for giving a woman as much as possible what she wants.”

Both women giggled.

“I get that,” said Cheryl.

“Me too,” said Constance.

“How about taking responsibility for the kid?” Cheryl asked.

He shrugged. “Same answer, though I’d love to watch him or her grow up and would try to have some influence on his or her life. It’s just that I’m young. And I think I’m pretty ambitious. I don’t know how far that ambition will take me. Anywhere really once I become a successful novelist, I suppose.”

“You’re pretty confident,” Constance noticed.

“I think I have to be,” he said. “There’s never a lot of room at the top.”

“Is that where you plan to be?”

“To really make a living at it, yes. Not like the very top. That’s for genre writers like Stephen King.”

“Then like who?”

“Thomas Pynchon? But a whole lot more prolific hopefully.”

“Philip Roth?” Cheryl suggested.

“Sure. And he’s Jewish too.”

They laughed.

After another lingering kiss, and Constance got one, too, they left Cheryl and headed to Golden Valley to pick up the kids. His naughty submissive had the nerve to squeeze his groin area when she ducked down travelling up the residential street to Grandma’s house. He gave her a spank before getting out of the car.

The two angels were finishing breakfast, a full one unlike his, when he arrived. He grabbed an extra piece of toast waiting. When they finished he wetted a paper towel and knelt and cleaned off the remains of eggs on Charlie’s face before they said their goodbyes to Mrs. Nilsson. Luckily she remained in the house, though she did cast a glance at the car. Constance continued to hide. “Napping,” she told the kids. The two child seats in the backseat made them sitting back there more believable to the prying eyes of their grandmother.

Constance’s head stayed in his lap. And she continued to tease him At least she didn’t pull it out, although her success in getting him hard would have at least made him more comfortable.

“Did you two have fun?” he asked the tykes sitting behind him.

“Grandpa was fun,” said Essie.

“Did you see Uncle Lee?” Joanne had a little brother, a surprise arrival he would guess, who was a year younger than him. A jock type, but nice enough.

“He tickled me,” Essie complained.

“Did you tickle him back?”

“He wouldn’t let me. We played with Grandpa mostly. He’s nice. Are we going to the zoo?”

“I said we would. Why do you ask?”

“Because Grandma said it was a scuse.”

“An excuse? Do you know what she means?”

“She said you needed a excuse to come here.”

“This morning?”

“Yes.”

“I would have just visited, not left you, but Auntie Connie wanted to do things you wouldn’t enjoy.”

“Like what?”

“Shopping.”

“I like shopping.”

Both Constance and he snorted.

“Grown up shopping,” he explained.

“Like what?”

“Like suits. Like what grandpa wears when he gets home.”

“Oh. So we are going to the zoo.”

“Yes. I would never be so mean.”

“I know Joe. Why is Grandma mean?”

“To you?”

“To you. To Mommy.”

“I don’t want to be mean, but I don’t think you would understand. Like sometimes I try to explain things and maybe you still don’t know what I mean. I know you ask, and I like to tell you. But sometimes you ask why and keep asking, and then I try explaining but you don’t understand.”

“And you say the older I am, the more I will understand.”

“Exactly.”

“That I will understand, because I’m smart.”

“Yes.”

“It’s like when I grow bigger, so does my brain. Does that mean I will have a ginormous head to understand?”

They laughed.

“Fortunately no. You’ll have just the right sized head, and a pretty one too. Thoughts might be big, in that they will be very important sometimes. But they’re actually very small. So small you can hardly see them at all.”

“You can see thoughts?”

“Not the way you see trees or your brother. But with your mind’s eye. Like when you dream. You see things that aren’t there. No one else can see them. Only you see what’s inside your brain. But when you see these things, things happen inside your brain. Like sparks, but not the kind that hurt. People can see these sparks, even though only you know what they do. What you see in your mind’s eye.”

“You mean people can look at my brain?” she gasped.

“Not directly Essie. No one would open you up to watch your brain. That would hurt you.”

“Then how?”

“Like I said, thoughts are like sparks inside your brain. People can monitor those sparks.”

“Monitor?”

“Do you know what a hair net is?”

“Like what those ladies wear at the cafeteria?”

“Exactly. You wear something like that. They have what are called diodes. Little metal thingies. They can read the sparks, and since there’s a bunch of them on those hairnets, they can figure out where those sparks happen. But that’s all anyone can ever see. They see where your brain makes those things you see or you feel, but no one can know exactly what those sparks mean except you.”

“My mind’s eye.”

“Yes. And not just what you see like in your dreams. But feelings too. You only know what you feel, but these people can learn what part of your brain makes these feelings.”

“Why? Why if they don’t know what it is, they want to know where?”

“It’s just like you asking me questions. They want to learn. Understand the way the brain works. If you feel happy or sad, where is that in your brain? Or when you dream.”

“Where the dream comes from.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks Joe. You’re so smart.”

“You are too.”

“So...”

He laughed. “You wanted to know why Grandma is mean to your mom and me.”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled. “I’m not grown enough.”

“No you’re not. Sorry.”

“You’ll tell me when I am?”

“I bet you’ll figure it out yourself. Just...”

“Just what, Joe?”

“Just know I think she’s wrong to be mean. Especially to your mother.”

“And to you Joe.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope I’m never mean to you.”

“Everyone gets mean sometimes. It’s part of being human.”

“Why?”

“It’s a lot like the brain. Only you can see and feel what goes on in there. And you can’t see and feel what’s going in someone else’s brain. There’s something called empathy.”

“Empaty?”

“Close enough.”

“Say it again.”

“Empathy,” he said slower, emphasizing the th sound.”

“Empathy.”

“That’s it.”

“What is empathy?”

“It means you feel what someone else feels. Or try to. Like if someone is hurt, and you’ve been hurt in a similar way, you can empathize with the person.”

“Like you have a booboo and he’s had one too.”

“Yes. You know it hurts because you felt it before. Even though everyone feels pain differently. But what if it’s another kind of hurt. Like something bad happens. Something that upsets you.”

“Like someone is mean to me.”

“Or something even worse,” he said.

“Joe,” Constance murmured.

“I know,” he whispered back, realizing his mistake. Reliving trauma isn’t the best thing to do to a four year old.

“Like when Jenny lost her kitty,” said Essie. Jenny being a friend her age in the neighborhood. “Oh my gosh! I was so mean to her!”

“What?” he exclaimed.

“Empathy! I never had a pet. Mommy won’t let me. And Jenny got to have Cole.”

“Coal?” Constance asked.

“For Black Hole. Her parents are both complete nerds,” he chuckled quietly.

“A black cat.”

“A very beautiful black cat.”

“He was beautiful,” Essie sniffled. “And so smooth. I got so mad at Mommy. Then ... when Jenny...” Essie cried. “I was so mean. She was crying. All the time. I just ... I went like ‘At least you got a damn cat!’ So mean. Empathy. I understand Joe.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” she sniffled. “If I had a pet, I could...”

“Empathize.”

“Empathize,” she said carefully. “I wouldn’t be mean. I could even offer my cat for her. And Mommy. I understand. I ... a cat ... it would ... I would...”

“ ... be responsible.”

“Yeah. And if something ... Gosh! I didn’t ... empathize. I didn’t understand. People ... don’t understand, do they Joe? All they have is their brain. They can’t really empathize. Not totally. We really are so very selfish, aren’t we Joe?”

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

“Aren’t we Joe?” she persisted.

“Yes, Esther. But we can try. We can try to be nice. But sometimes...”

“All we see is what we want.”

“Yes, Esther. Bad people I think only care about what they want.”

“They don’t have empathy.”

“Or they don’t care. Do you know the Golden Rule?”

“What’s that?”

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

“Well, duh,” said Essie.

They laughed.

They had an immensely fun time at the zoo. Her brother sat in a stroller as Essie set the pace with her little legs, in a way slowing them to enjoy the outdoors and the various animals. Although she did tend to hurry from exhibit to exhibit.

They spent the most time looking for and finding the tiger in his immense hold. Despite his extreme leisure, he fascinated them.

Quite the opposite, the prairie dogs became another long stop, their burrowing and popping out of burrows and endless energy and utter cuteness made them their favorites.

They spent as much as time as he could afford there before heading home. Not before their Auntie Connie spoiled them at the store buying them pretty much whatever they wanted.