Chapter 4

Florence came out to the barn to get Bobby.

“Mrs. Harris is on the phone. She needs to talk to you.”

“Okay, be right there,” said Bobby. He was wrestling with one of the front wheels of the tractor. It was flat, and he was trying to get the tire off, so he could patch the tube.

He got to a stopping place, and noticed that Flo was still there, watching him.

“How come Mary and Bev are being so nice to you?” she asked, suddenly.

“Why wouldn’t they be?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It just seems strange.”

“You’re nice to me,” he said.

“No I’m not,” she said firmly. “You’re my brother. I don’t have to be nice to you.”

“You’re just a sweetheart, down deep,” he laughed, putting his arm around her and pulling her toward the door of the barn. “Even when you’re trying to be mean, you’re nice.”

“Let go of me, you lummox!” she yipped, whirling away from him. “When are you ever going to move out, so I can have your room?”

“Mary would get my room before you did,” he said.

“Same difference,” she shrugged. “At least I’d have a room to myself.”

“Why do you need a room to yourself?” he asked. He grinned, before she could answer. “Oh yeah, you’re growing up ... a girl needs privacy sometimes.”

She shot a dark look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she growled.

“Of course not,” he said, laughing again. “Mamma’s going to let you go on dates soon. Then maybe you’ll find out what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t need a boy in my life!” she snarled. “Mamma doesn’t need a man, and I don’t either. Mary’s besotted with Fred, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do that!”

“We’ll see,” said Bobby, capturing her and pulling her against him again. She struggled, but ended up walking in step with him to the house. When they got there he let her go.

“Beast!” she teased.

“Softy!” he teased back.

“Sometimes you make me so mad!” she yipped. But she was smiling.

He went to the phone and spoke into it.

“Bobby? This is Prudence.”

“Hi,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Could you come to the house Saturday?”

“Sure. What do I need to bring?”

“I just want to talk to you,” she said.

“I’d be happy to,” he said.

Bobby’s knock was answered by Prudence, who was wearing her paint-splattered sweat suit.

“Looks like you’re working today,” he said, smiling.

“Just some house cleaning,” she said.

She led him to the living room, and sat in an easy chair. He sat on the couch.

“It seems Constance has developed quite a crush on you,” she said, without preamble.

“I’m flattered,” he said.

“I think maybe the same thing has happened to me,” she said, frowning.

“I’m doubly flattered,” he said.

“It bothers me,” she said.

“Constance is a little young,” Bobby admitted.

“I wasn’t talking about her.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Bobby, cutting to the chase.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” she said, helplessly. “I’m in no condition to have a man in my life again. I feel better. You helped me feel better, Bobby, and I appreciate that. For the first time in a long time, I don’t dread waking up every day.

“I’m glad about that,” said Bobby.

“This is what I mean!” said Prudence, getting up and pacing. “You’re polite. You’re talented, and you definitely have a way with women. You make me want things that I’m in no position to want. I think about you entirely too much!”

“Look,” said Bobby. “You’re making it harder than it needs to be. You’re a good looking woman. Go out on some dates. Have some fun. You’re an adult. There’s nothing wrong with bringing some happiness into your life.”

“I told you!” she said, turning to face him. “I’m not ready for that yet! Maybe I will be some day, but not yet. If I did that, I might find a man I want to keep, and I’m still on the edge of madness as it is. I don’t know how to act, and I wouldn’t know what to talk about, and I don’t know how to get a man to ask me out anyway!”

“Calm down,” said Bobby. “One step at a time.”

She looked at him helplessly and he patted the seat beside him. She came, and sat.

“The fall festival is coming up,” he said. “Go to the dance. If a man asks you to dance ... and they will ... dance with him. Talk about whatever is on your mind. Just be yourself. If I can be attracted to you as strongly as I am, every other man will be attracted to you too.”

“That’s another thing!” she moaned. “You say such sweet things. You touched me so lovingly. You’re not pushy. You make me want to do things I shouldn’t do!”

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re a big girl. This is America. Why can’t you do whatever it is you want to do?”

“Don’t you get it?” she moaned. “I want to have sex with you!”

“I want to have sex with you too,” he said.

“You can’t just say that!” she whined.

“Why not? You just did.”

She threw up her hands and let them drop again.

“Come here,” he said, tugging at her elbow.

“What?” She sounded sullen.

“Come over here,” he said.

“I’m right here!” she barked.

He grasped her shoulders and twisted her away from him, pulling, and she fell, with a yelp, across his lap. He caught her with his left arm, and pulled her startled face to his for a kiss.

He didn’t hold anything back. He kissed her like he meant it. He had no idea if she’d ever French kissed or not, but, in her startled state, her lips were slightly open, so he flicked his tongue into her mouth. She stiffened, at first, and her hands went to his chest to push. Then they curled, digging into his chest muscles, but she couldn’t get a grip.

Slowly, as he maintained the kiss, he felt her begin to relax, until her upper hand slid up his chest, to his shoulder, and then around behind his neck, and she started kissing him back.

They made out like teenagers, moving from one hot kiss into another, and she became almost frantic in her movements, pulling herself against him. His hand stroked her back, at first, and then moved to her hip, and finally up under her shirt, onto her back. Her hand came back to his chest, and pushed, gently, this time, and he let her move away from his lips.

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Making love to you,” he said, leaning forward to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“You can’t do that,” she moaned.

“I am doing that,” he said, smiling, and stroking the smooth skin of her back. While she was still staring into his eyes, he slid his hand down, and into her sweat pants, under her panties and onto a surprisingly firm butt cheek.

“No man has touched me since Harry,” she whispered.

“Harry’s gone,” said Bobby. There wasn’t any other way to say it.

“I can’t,” she moaned.

“Kiss me,” he said.

With a strangled moan her face lurched towards his, and, as she kissed him passionately, he slid his hand around her hip, inside her panties. Her upper leg rose by instinct, and he slid his hand into wet heat. She groaned as his finger found her tight channel and he dug into her, pulling the base of his finger against her clit.

She pushed away from him, gasping.

“Stop!“ she gasped.

“In a minute,” he said. He wiggled his finger and her eyes rolled in their sockets. She arched against him, her hips betraying her.

“Oh, please stop,” she begged, as she lifted her leg higher.

“You need this,” he said soothingly. “Show me your beautiful breasts.”

“Nooooo,” she moaned.

“Show them to me,” he commanded.

Her hand dragged at her sweat shirt, and she rolled backwards, as his finger tortured her pussy.

“Ahhhhhhh,” she whined, laying back. Her hand pulled, exposing her bra.

“Lift your bra,” he said.

“Ohhhh Bobbeeeeee,” she whined. “You’re killing meeee.”

“Lift it!” he said.

Her fingers scrabbled at the bottom of the bra, and it flipped up, to reveal milky white breasts, heavy and wobbly, with fat brown nipples, set on large, dark areolas.

Bobby leaned over and suckled one nipple, whipping his finger in and out in a circular motion.

She went rigid and wailed as an orgasm wiped out all thought except the joy of feeling this special thing once again. She hadn’t had an orgasm in over ten years, and it seemed like this one tried to make up for all that time as she writhed on his lap. She babbled and bawled and then went limp.

He stopped frigging her, and withdrew his finger, to press three fingers against her pussy lips, just putting pressure there. He licked her nipple, and the areola, and then moved his mouth, pulling her up. Her eyes were glazed, and her mouth slack as he kissed her. Then, as she recovered, she got some control back, and returned his kiss. He pulled his hand out of her pants, and held her tight, still kissing her gently.

With the gentlest of pressure, she pushed at his chest, and he backed off. His hand, now free, went to her bra and pulled it back down. She had to help him get her generous, wobbly breasts back in the cups.