Chapter 8

I did not feel guilty for having had intercourse with Bobby. He felt enough guilt for both of us. He insisted we wait to read more until our precautions were in place.

It turns out a teenage boy can buy condoms just about anywhere, and nobody lifts an eyebrow.

He showed me the box of ten Trojan Willa ribbed condoms. His face was bright red.

“They had a hundred different kinds,” he said. “I tried to act all casual, but I know I was acting like an idiot.”

Our parents were at work again, so I took a little packet out of the box and lay it on my pillow beside the diary.

Her entry for the 27th sobered us both: “My monthly is late. I attribute it to the fact that Herb leaves for the Army in two weeks. This happened in December last year, too.”

“She thinks it’s stress that’s making her late,” I said.

“Can that happen?”

“Duh. According the the doctor, it happened to me, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

“It’s unusual, though. It has to be something pretty traumatic to cause that.”

“What happened in December, the year before?” he asked.

“Duh, again. Pearl Harbor?” I said.

“Oh yeah.”

“I think the reason I was late was because we started doing things, and it was pretty traumatic for me,” I said. He frowned. “In a good way,” I added. “But don’t think it’s stress that’s making her late,” I said. “They’ve been doing it too much, and for quite a while.”

“So you think she’s pregnant?”

“Maybe,” I said. “But how can that be? If there was an incest baby in our family history, I’d think we’d all know that.”

“Not if they kept it a secret,” he said.

“You can’t keep a baby a secret,” I argued.

“You can keep who the father is a secret,” he said. “We can jump ahead to find out if she’s really pregnant or not.”

“No. We read it in order, and just a week at a time,” I said.

“They only have two weeks before he leaves for the war,” said Bobby.

“Then we read those two weeks in order, a week at a time,” I said. “It’s only two days. You can wait two days to see if she got with child.”

“This is making me feel funny,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“The thought of her maybe being pregnant got me stiff,” he admitted.

“You hope she is?”

“Remember yesterday?” he asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Well, the thing I didn’t tell you is that, while I was shooting in you, I kind of had this fantasy that I was getting you pregnant.”

“But you didn’t want to do it at all!” I reminded him.

“I know, and I didn’t. But when it happened, I couldn’t help what went through my mind, and what went through my mind was that I hoped you were getting pregnant.”

“So you want to get me pregnant?”

“No!” he groaned. “I don’t want to get you pregnant. It’s just that while I was cumming, that’s all I could think about. Why do you think I’m so freaked out about it?”

I thought back to how part of me craved feeling that ball of warmth exploding in my middle. My body loved having his sperm flow into it. Or something loved that.

“I think that’s just instinct,” I said. “Like I said, that activity is for making babies, so that’s what we think about while we’re doing it.”

“What if she really is pregnant?” he asked.

“I guess we’ll have to wait to find out,” I said.

“Are you horny?” he asked.

“I don’t think I reacted to the possibility that she’s pregnant like you did.”

“So you’re not horny?”

“If I know you’re stiff, then I’ll get horny,” I said.

“That makes me feel really good,” he sighed.

He leaned forward and buried his nose in my hair, taking a deep breath.

“I want to see you naked,” he said.

“Okay, now I’m horny,” I replied.

I still didn’t see the eerie parallels between what my great aunt and her brother did and what Bobby and I were doing. The casual observer probably would have. And it wasn’t genetic. It was just nature. I get it that, normally, nature doesn’t pair up a brother and sister, and in this case I was the aggressor, like Herb got the ball rolling. But otherwise, it was the quintessential story of boy and girl being attracted to each other, and letting that play out to its normal conclusion.

I was too caught up in the passion of things, which is why I ended up naked, under Bobby again, with his wonderful stiff penis probing my famished depths. It was passion that knocked that little packet off my pillow and down between the headboard and mattress, where it was out of sight and out of mind.

Somehow he wasn’t as helpless as I was. He did not cum right away. Rather he stroked, and pushed, and explored this new intimacy between us. I think he was looking for signs that this or that thing he did brought out an agonized groan from my throat, telling him it was the right thing to do to push me over the cliff.

When I did rush over the precipice, like a lemming leaping to his death, Bobby covered my mouth with his. That’s when he lost it. He had realized he was in me bareback, and had planned on pulling out and shooting on my belly. But the moment seized him, too, and he pushed hard as he gushed into me.

I’m quite sure that’s what Herb did, all those times. He wasn’t trying to get Aunt Jennifer pregnant. He just loved the feel of spurting in her hot depths.

We were both out of breath when he rolled to my side. I didn’t want to do anything except lie there, basking in the afterglow of great sex.

Bobby hopped out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, coming back with a warm, damp washcloth. He went to work on my pussy, in the mistaken belief that he could remove his sperm from my body. Said sperm was leaking out of me and he thought he could get it all.

It felt good, but I was satisfied. I didn’t urge him to rub me to another climax.

“We did it again,” he muttered.

“It was even better this time,” I sighed.

“We forgot the condom,” he mumbled.

“We’ll use it next time,” I said.

He had to know. He bugged me until I finally gave in. I made him read each page, though, until we could find out her reproductive status.

On August 29th, they went to a place they’d never been before, pushing their bikes along a trail to a copse of trees Herb had seen while hunting rabbits. There was a clearing in the middle and they laid the blanket out, there. It was a picnic, but it was also the last time they’d be able to do this until the war ended and he came home. Again, she sat on top of him, impaled, and fed him bites of sandwiches and strawberries while she rocked. She discovered that leaning forward made her feel extra good and she reached a climax that way. After she calmed, he rolled her over and mounted her in the “usual style”, lunging and telling her how much he loved her, and how lonely he would be so far from home and her.

Bobby and I were both shocked when she wrote: “As he spent himself in me, he said he wished I could have his baby.”

We didn’t stop to play. Bobby wanted to go on.

On Thursday, the 3rd of September, they had a small party for Herb and he went to the recruiting station. He signed up to be a Marine, and they put him on a bus two hours later.

For the rest of September, her entries were just of normal life. She started volunteering at the local USO chapter, and danced with soldiers who were being transferred here and there. She said there were all types, and that the sailors were the worst, when it came to getting her bottom pinched and so on. If she danced with a Marine, she told him her brother was in the Marines. They always wanted to know where he was assigned, but she didn’t know that, yet.

On September 30th, she wrote: I’ve missed two monthlies. I can’t believe it, but Herb must have gotten me with child. I don’t know what I’ll do. I won’t show for a while, and I have lots of baggy dresses. Everyone has lost weight since the war began.

Bobby stood up. He paced.

“What if I’ve gotten you pregnant, too,” he worried.

I got up and went to the little calendar I keep on my vanity desk. I picked it up and walked to where he was.

“Look,” I said. I pointed to a little F marked on the page. It was on tomorrow’s date.

“What’s the F stand for?” he asked.

“Fred,” I answered.

“Who’s Fred?”

“Fred is my period. It should start tomorrow or the next day. You can’t have gotten me pregnant when I’m that close to my period.”

“Wait. You just went to the doctor. And then you had a period. It can’t have been a month ago,” he observed.

I felt dread run down my spine like ice cold fingers. That F had been there for months. I hadn’t corrected my calendar after my off-cycle period. I also hadn’t talked to the doctor to find out if my normal schedule would return, or if my off-cycle period had reset the clock. I didn’t know whether my little calendar was right or not. I did some math in my head, and the icy fingers strummed my spine like it was a cello string. It was almost exactly two weeks since my last, very difficult period. Was I ovulating? Had Bobby’s beautiful penis spit millions of wiggling sperm cells right next to the chamber where there might be an egg just waiting to greet them? But what if my normal cycle was still working? It would mean having periods two weeks apart, but I was more than willing to endure that if it meant I was way past ovulation. I just didn’t know.

Bobby freaked. I told him to calm down, and that there wasn’t anything we could do about it. I couldn’t think of any way to get the answers I wanted without going back to the doctor, and if I did that, Mom would know. Even if I went there on my own, since she was the primary parent interacting with him, would he spill to her what he and I talked about?

I spent a fruitless hour on the internet, but trying to get answers to questions like that wasn’t working. There was lots of stuff about periods, but it all related to normal ones. There was also a lot on menopause, but that didn’t help, either. I did get the sense that cycles can change, which didn’t make me feel any better. If my period had changed, due to that last late one, then that meant I was close to ovulating.

Both parents asked Bobby what was wrong that night. He was still freaked out. He made up some excuse about having a fight with one of his friends, and they let it drop.

Needless to say, we didn’t have any more sex for a while. “A while” is defined as “until my next period arrived” and we knew I wasn’t pregnant. That was twenty-one days since my last one. This one felt normal in every way, except it didn’t happen when it was supposed to happen. Mom called the doctor, but he said I didn’t need to come in, and that cycles changed as a woman get older and their bodies change. Basically, he just said to keep him informed if things continued being screwy. My mom wasn’t worried. After all, it wasn’t like I could be pregnant.

We didn’t read the diary, either. We had gotten burned, and were a little gun-shy about finding out what happened to Aunt Jennifer and her supposed baby.

In all, it was almost a month before I got the diary out again. I didn’t tell Bobby about it. I just read some pages.

The “news” didn’t get a lot brighter.

In October, they got a letter from Herb saying he was assigned to the First Marine Division, “the best of the best.” His letter proudly proclaimed “We’re training to kick some Jap ass.”

Throughout November, she made comments about how she was developing a bump. She said she loved her child, even though it was going to bring her grief.

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The Summer of '42

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