Chapter 12

“I am so jealous,” said Sam.

Gloria had informed me of her reproductive status on a Wednesday. It was now the following Friday night, and I had just mounted Sam, sliding my stiff prick into her clasping teenaged pussy.

“You can’t be jealous. You’re right here with me,” I said, grinding to give her clit a little attention.

“You got my mommy pregnant,” she whined.

“I did,” I said, proudly.

“I want to be pregnant, too,” she moaned, arching up against me.

“After you get through the academy,” I said, pulling out and thrusting back in firmly.

“I don’t think they’d be too happy if their brand-new police officer turned up with a big belly,” she panted.

“Okay, then, a year after you get through the academy,” I said.

“Really?”

I wasn’t actually negotiating anything. I didn’t actually think I’d ever get Samantha Robertson pregnant. As much as I loved that fantasy, I expected her to meet some men her own age, either at the police academy or afterward, on the job, and enter into a more conventional relationship. I felt the same way about Karla. All I was doing was feeding Sam’s own fantasy. Or at least that’s all I thought I was doing.

“If you feel the same way then,” I huffed, starting to fuck her in earnest. Sam liked me to get off in her right away, so that later she could squirm on my renewed (and less eager to spurt) boner for a whole hour. She said she liked knowing that it was her turn, and that she could take as much time as she wanted.

Karla was the opposite. Karla kept telling me not to cum, because she wanted as many orgasms as possible before I went soft. Later, after I got hard again, she was the exact same way. Karla was an avaricious little thing.

“Deal,” gasped Sam.

The week after that was Karla’s turn. She sat on me and wiggled out a quick orgasm. Then she leaned forward and asked me to suck her nipples while she rubbed, working on number two.

“Are you ever going to get me pregnant, like Mom?” she panted.

“If you want me to,” I said, already having to think about something other than cumming. With Sam, I wanted to get her pregnant. With Karla, for some reason, I desperately wanted to see her walking about with a basketball belly, because of me. Maybe it was because Karla was more girly. I don’t know.

“I want three,” she said. “Two girls and a boy.”

“You’re kind of greedy,” I said. “And wouldn’t it be better to have them with a man you could marry?”

“I want them to be yours,” she said, speeding up.

She had her second orgasm and stopped moving, just as I was almost ready to spurt. Her face was right over mine, and her hair was hanging down, tickling me.

“And if I can’t marry you, I don’t want to marry anybody,” she panted.

Karla’s comment brought up marriage again. I went to Gloria and asked her why we were waiting.

“Well, partly because you haven’t proposed, yet,” she said.

That stopped me in my tracks.

“I thought you proposed to me,” I said.

“I did, but that’s not how these things are done, Bob. You could be a little more romantic about this.”

I went to one knee and asked, “Will you please marry me?”

“May I see the ring?” she asked, sweetly.

“You’re a hard woman, Gloria Robertson,” I said.

“You’re asking me to change my last name,” she said. “I must consider that carefully.”

“Come with me, then,” I said.

“Where?”

“To the jewelry store,” I said. “I’m not picking out a ring and then having you turn your nose up at it.”

She laughed, but went with me. She thought we were only going window shopping.

Which is why, when she found something she liked, I got on one knee again, right there in the store, and proposed to her while she was dressed in sweat pants and an old Army T shirt. She also didn’t have any makeup on.

But she said “Yes,” anyway.

It is one thing to propose based on passion and impulse. It’s another to actually get married and start an official, legal life together. If you want things to proceed smoothly, you have to do some planning. Like where you’re going to live and other ‘minor’ details.

Gloria wasn’t in a hurry to tie the knot. She said she already felt married, and that a piece of paper wouldn’t make her feel more married. She was also trying to get really good at her job, and didn’t want the distractions of planning a wedding or moving, etc.

The fact that she was pregnant didn’t play into things at all. She wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it.

So I agreed to wait until she was ready.

It was interesting to watch the girls mature. I don’t mean from the time I met them to now, though that was quite enjoyable, too. I’m talking about the summer between their junior and senior years in high school. Sam finished all her correspondence modules and started her ride-alongs. She also finagled a trip to the range and learned how to shoot.

Karla flabbergasted me by getting a job at a local burger joint. Kaw Valley seemed a very long way away to her, and she hoped that having an entry level minimum wage job would motivate her to be patient and really want to pursue her decision to be a dental hygienist.

It did that in spades.

She hated that job. She hated how she felt (greasy and sweaty) while she was working, and she hated how she smelled (also greasy and sweaty) when she left. The first thing she did when she got home was take a shower and wash her uniform. But she stuck with it. I was proud of her.

Another important development was that watching their mother’s belly swell, and seeing how difficult being pregnant was, moderated their desire to become pregnant themselves. Most people see a pregnant women only for a few minutes at a time, perhaps when she’s had time to prepare to be out in public. They don’t see her all day and night long, and see the times when that bulge gets in the way of doing just about anything. Most people aren’t told by the pregnant woman when to plan to stay out of the bathroom, because the pregnant woman will probably need it, then.

All that said, the girls still teased me, encouraging me to spurt in them, but I could tell they were relieved they were protected from what I wished I could do.

The irony of that was that Gloria loved being pregnant, and didn’t perceive it as being difficult at all. She took the aches and pains, the eventual waddling, and having to have help getting up off the couch in stride. She’d carried twins before. This was a piece of cake, in her mind.

Thomas Michael Robertson was born when the twins were three days into their senior year of high school. Gloria had maternity leave from her job, and reveled in taking care of our new son. The girls helped, but they were also focused on their futures. Suddenly, good grades actually meant something to them.

I had never been around a woman who was breastfeeding. It was beautiful. It also gave me a hardon, which Gloria was delighted about. More than once, she sat on me naked, cowgirl style, and rocked while Thomas sucked happily at a distended nipple. That meant the other breast leaked, but washing sheets was no big deal. I also got to taste what Thomas was so eager to get, and understood why he loved it. It was warm and sweet.

The twins tried to convince me they were horrified that I “stole” Thomas’s food. I offered to stop doing that if one of them would start lactating.

Teenage girls have no sense of humor, sometimes.

I found it fascinating that, when the girls were in bed with me, we spent just as much time talking we did making love. It was gratifying that my bed, and lying in it naked with me, arms entwined, was the comfortable, safe space that let them vent or talk about their dreams.

By the time they were in their last semester of high school, it seemed there was no trace left of the little girls I had known for so long, or the callow young women I had molested on an ice fishing trip. They were very adult about almost everything.

They’d had what seemed like a charmed life, particularly when it came to sex. But life bit them in the ass, too, now and then. One such occasion was when Sam heard a rumor that she was a lesbian. It stemmed from the fact that she never went out on dates with boys. She took it in stride, though, and the very next weekend she went out with a guy she was in the model rocketing club with. She was the one who asked him out, and she told him exactly why she was doing it. He was a wallflower and, rather than feeling used, he thanked her for doing it. They went to the local hangout, where they’d be seen. It was good for both of them. I watched as she kissed him good night when he brought her home. I’m pretty sure she curled his toes.

Karla hopped on board the dating train, too. They quite often double dated. They made out a little, (enough to quell rumors about lesbianism) but that was all. After their dates brought them home, I took care of any erotic feelings that had arisen. Both were surprised that they had erotic feelings about boys their own age. I told them it was because they chose to go out with guys they already liked, and that having fun with a guy they liked just naturally led to wanting to be more intimate. I reminded them that’s how teenage girls got pregnant without intending to.

Gloria and I both felt the girls pulling away from us. It was subtle, and natural, as they began to take their futures more seriously, actually making plans and setting goals for what would become their adult lives. It was fascinating to see how intent they were to try their best to make things happen without any hitches.

Another thing Karla did that impressed me was her willingness to stick with her Kaw Valley night classes. She didn’t love high school, and even though she only went to Kaw valley one night a week, I knew she dreaded more school. As time went by, though, she found that being in high school helped her with the work. Her first class was English and she found out right away why she should have paid better attention in school. Her second class was sociology, and they talked about “aberrant behavior” that she had engaged in on a routine basis. Was behaving in, for that matter. She didn’t feel guilty, just fascinated about why people seemed to want to run each other’s lives so much.

Gloria and I got a lot more alone time, because after supper, Karla would work on either high school or college homework, while Sam pored over manuals and textbooks cadged from her new buddies in the police department. Apparently everybody was eager for her to ride along. Whether that was because she was interesting and fun to be around, or a stone fox was up for grabs.

Our lovemaking seemed to mature as well. They were less frantic, more adventurous, willing to try different things, both during foreplay and while engaged in intercourse. I haven’t been in a family with teenagers in it, but based on stories I’ve heard from other parents, it sounded like ours was strangely without drama. The girls weren’t competing with each other, and that included their love lives. Under usual circumstances, a girl their age would be involved in temporary relationships full of angst and doubt, and maybe with fear, in terms of getting into trouble. Or girls would compete for the same guy. None of that affected the twins, though. They had fun on dates, but that was all they were looking for. Ironically, getting a reputation for not putting out attracts a certain kind of guy who isn’t interested in the drama of trying to seduce a girl. Some guys think with other than their balls. Neither of them ever wanted for a date.

With Gloria, it was somehow different. It’s hard to describe, but it was different. Maybe it was because we had created new life inside her body. Thomas was a happy baby, spoiled by three women. As a first-time father, I was constantly worried, but Gloria kept assuring me things were fine. It made things interesting for other reasons.

One night, when it was Karla’s turn, I got her on all fours and entered her that way for the first time.

“I’ve heard of this, but this feels so nasty,” she said.

I reached under her and cupped her breasts, finding and pinching her nipples.

“This is how I had to make love to your mother when she got too big for me to lie down on,” I said, thrusting in and out of her slowly.

“Oh,” she said. “I thought you guys just stopped doing this when she got fat.”

“I was doing this to her when her water broke,” I bragged.

I lay down on her back and rabbit stroked her for five or ten strokes.

“This is practice for when I make your belly get fat, too,” I panted. I stopped, half in her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about letting me do that.”

She reached to slap my thigh.

“I haven’t changed my mind. Why’d you stop?”

We did learn a lot that night. It was the first time Karla had been made love to under circumstances where her clit wasn’t being directly stimulated. She learned that night she could have a purely vaginal orgasm. She said it felt completely different. She described it like sinking down into a tub full of hot water.