Chapter 5

My mother was on a high rampage, talking about how it was about time, and how the food had gotten cold, and how she couldn't believe how certain inconsiderate people could be so selfish as to hold things up for everybody else.

Then Aunt Wendy actually walked into the room, and everybody at the table saw her. She'd already taken off her coat, and there was nothing covering her to soften the blow, as it were.

"Sorry we're late," she said, as if nothing was wrong. "I couldn't decide what to wear." She was wearing exactly what she'd been wearing when I got to her house, except that she'd put on a bra. She'd also combed her hair and put on a little makeup too.

It was silent as a tomb. Well, a tomb inhabited by zombies, maybe, since my mother was making zombie noises ... gurgles mostly.

"Wow," said my sister. Her eyes were about as wide as the plate in front of her.

Cathy and Rebecca, both in similar condition, though not as far along, looked startled. I thought it was interesting that both Chet and Ralph blushed. My dad looked very stern, but he was the first one to speak more than one word.

"If you two will sit down we'll say grace and get this show on the road."

I didn't need to worry about anybody looking at me and detecting how I felt about Aunt Wendy for at least fifteen minutes. All attention was on her. Everybody there wanted to ask questions, but being polite was a pillar of culture in our family. There was an extended strained silence as Dad dished out turkey and bowls were passed. I had plenty of time to work out my plan. Now all I needed was an opening.

Finally Wendy just started talking to her sister like they were alone. She confessed to making stupid decisions that went badly, and that she was so ashamed that she couldn't face the family. She even confessed to the cockamamie plan to have the baby and say she adopted it, and how that was going all right until I showed up at her back door.

That brought eyes to me for some reason.

"Why didn't you call me and give me some warning?" my mother accused, looking dead at me.

"Because Aunt Wendy said she knew at least five ways to kill me slowly if I said a word to anybody until we got here," I said. "That was after she cold cocked me, so I was pretty sure she was telling the truth."

"She HIT you?" my mother yelped. She started to get angry. My aunt was looking at me like I was crazy.

"I kind of messed up and called her a slut," I said, doing my best to look ashamed.

"You what?" my mother yelped again. Dad was starting to look worried. Julie May didn't show it on her face, but I was absolutely sure she was having the time of her life watching me dig the hole I was apparently falling into. I didn't have time to look at my older brothers or their wives, so I don't know what was going on there.

"It just kind of slipped out," I complained. "I mean I asked her when she got married and how come we didn't get invited to the wedding and she said she didn't get married and I said 'So you're just a slut' and she knocked me down and I apologized. She's not mad at me any more, so you shouldn't be mad either."

I stopped to take a breath. My mother was getting redder and redder, so I know she'd bought it. I glanced at my dad, who was looking at me with his eyes narrowed and a small frown. He was a sharp cookie and I didn't think he was convinced things had happened quite that way. Maybe it was the look on my face, but he didn't say anything. Of course Mom filled that gap.

"Robert William Martin!" she screeched. "What on Earth made you think you could talk to an adult like that? To anyone like that? I've taught you better than that, young man! You will apologize to your aunt this instant!"

"I did aplogize to her!" I complained. "I told you, she's not mad at me any more."

"Well you apologize again, and then you are banished from this table! I will not have a son of mine saying such cruel and horrible things!"

I looked at my aunt, and said, "Aunt Wendy, I'm very sorry for calling you a slut. I was rude and uncouth. I promise it will never happen again."

The look on her face was priceless. This had taken her completely by surprise, and it showed. But she wasn't stupid, and she knew I was up to something, so there was a hint of a smile in there too. But she was also worried because my mother was hopping mad and had sent me to my room. I stood up to leave. God bless my dad, who saved the day.

"Now Candy," he said. He and Aunt Wendy were the only people in the world who could call my mother "Candy." Her name was Candace and she politely informed anyone who shortened it, or changed it in any other way, that her name was Candace. So I knew when he called her that, that he was on my side. He proved that when he went on. "The boy probably heard that kind of trash talk at school, and you know how teenage boys will let their mouths run sometimes. He's apologized twice now and I don't think making him miss Christmas dinner will create any additional forgiveness." He looked at Aunt Wendy. "Am I right Wendy?"

She nodded. "I shouldn't have struck him. I know he's not usually like that. He was shocked. I felt horrible about the whole thing, and I know he was sorry." Apparently she decided that if I could make things up along the way, she could too. "He almost cried, poor boy."

Julie May snickered and her parents and three older brothers all turned their heads to glare at her. She tried to shrink down into her chair. But the next thing Aunt Wendy said took the attention off of her.

"Besides," she said sadly. "It's true, after all. I'm going to have a baby out of wedlock, and that makes me a slut."

Obviously she had tumbled to my idea, which was a preemptive strike on the whole slut issue.

"You are no such thing!" wailed my mother. She got up and went to her sister for the first time since she had arrived. "You're my baby sister and I love you, no matter what!"

Then there was this big hugging thing, and they were both crying like girls do and the tension evaporated and Dad started eating again. Just about everybody at the table was happy, with the possible exception of Julie May, who I am sure would have loved it if I'd have stayed in deep trouble.

And, what with the spirit of the season gripping all of us after that, it was all rosy cheeks and smiles and heartfelt emotions, which was really good, seeing as how Aunt Wendy and I were just flat incapable of not looking at each other for five or six hours. But because of all the Christmas cheer, nobody noticed the looks we gave each other.

Finally Aunt Wendy said she was tired and needed to go home. Mom agreed with her. She'd spent quite a bit of her time that afternoon giving her baby sister instructions and wisdom about pregnancy and taking care of herself and on and on and on.

"I'll drive you home," I said. "It's the least I can do." I didn't say it, but everyone knew I was talking about my earlier horrible social gaffe.

"I accept your offer," she said formally, and then ignored me while she got her coat on and said her goodbyes.

I had the car started and warming up when she finally opened the door, waved one last time to her adoring sister, and got in the car.

"You are insane," she said. "What if everybody in the house would have taken your side?"

"I knew they wouldn't" I said carelessly. "I know them. I don't think anybody in this family is going to contemplate calling you a slut any time soon."

"It was brilliant," she sighed. "Stupid ... crazy ... insane ... but brilliant. Thank you."

"I know how you can thank me," I said, with a leer in my voice.

"Speaking of which, your mother said I should make you do some work at my house as penance for your awful accusation. You're supposed to move the furniture around and help me set up the nursery. I'm too delicate for that kind of hard labor now." She giggled.

"Starting tonight?" I asked hopefully.

"Starting tonight," she confirmed.

My dad has a saying: "All generalizations are bad, including this one."

So I know there may be some who disagree with me, but for my money there is nothing as overwhelmingly sexy as lying under a pregnant woman ... who you made pregnant ... while she rocks, impaled on your stiffened prod, and makes those noises that convince you she'd rather be doing this with you than any other man in the world.

As I had slowly discovered her body on the camping trip, I got to do that all over again now. And she was completely different ... as unknown as she had been back then. Her breasts were different, her posture was different. Even her pussy was different. And of course the bulge that contained our growing child was different. Had our relationship been a normal one, where I was with her all the time as her belly swelled, I'm sure it would have been different. Her breasts had, indeed, gotten larger, and both her areolas and nipples were almost black now. Her areolas had widened as her breasts grew. It was like sucking on completely different nipples, except the woman was the same.

And while she rocked, our baby was right there between us, within reach of both his mother and father. Either she or I was caressing that bulge all the time, and the baby joined in by becoming very active while we made love. For as horny as she was, it was a very languid session at first. We could barely kiss, and I had to strain upwards to curve around the baby, but every kiss was worth it. The only problem was that after this, I'd never be satisfied with not being able to do it again. After the camping trip I'd managed to convince myself that it had been a one week fling, enjoyable for both of us, but just one of those stories I'd recall fondly in my old age.

Now that kind of thinking was impossible.

And just so you know I'm not a complete horn dog, I did move some furniture. She'd been too depressed to go shopping for nursery items. When we got done she said that was the first thing she was going to do the next day.

Aunt Wendy spent a lot more time at our place after Christmas. The shock of her condition (and apparent lifestyle) was over, and now she was simply pregnant Aunt Wendy. There were still months to go before the baby arrived, and everyone got used to the idea that there would be a baby, and that it was just fine that there would be a baby. In fact, since both Cathy and Rebecca were pregnant too, and just beginning to show, having pregnant women around the house became routine.

Finding time to spend together, though, depended to a great degree on how convincing Wendy could be as to her need for a strong back for a few hours. I mean you could only move the furniture around so many times before that excuse was used up. And once the nursery was painted, and there was no longer any need for someone else to climb the ladder, she couldn't ask me to do that any more.

As she got bigger and bigger her needs became more difficult to meet. She could reach an orgasm when riding me, but sometimes it was uncomfortable for her that way. Doggy style was the most comfortable for her, but she couldn't reach her clitty to rub it while I slicked in and out of her pussy. I could reach around her to do that, but it made me almost lie on her back. That was all right for a while, but not too long. She loved it when I spent an hour licking and sucking her pussy, but she wanted something in that pussy too. I'll never forget being embarrassed almost to death when she showed me the dildo she planned on using while I ate her pussy. She taught me how to use that dildo on her, though, so my embarrassment disappeared.

It was when her due date was only twenty-seven days away, and my graduation from high school was only two months beyond that, that Aunt Wendy did something that was even crazier and more dangerous than my calling-her-a-slut story had been.

It happened one night in February when she was eating supper with us. Apparently being eight months pregnant can be uncomfortable, because she was kind of pale and making pitiful sounds. Getting up off the couch took help, because the couch was too soft or something. So Mom suggested that, since we had a spare bedroom, Wendy should come stay with us until she went into labor. That way she'd always have help if she needed it.

"Besides, who is going to take you to the hospital when you go into labor?" asked Mom.

"I'll think about it," said Wendy. "But right now I'd like to talk about something else."

She then commenced to tell us that part of what she'd done in Kuwait was help procure and install wind and solar generating systems in remote locations where there were no electric lines. She was sketchy about what kind of places this technology went into. She made it sound like this and that camel farmer got these systems, but that didn't make any sense. At any rate, she said that such systems could be used on farms just like ours, and that if designed and installed correctly, could actually result in sale of electricity to the grid. Not only could we save all the money now going to the electric utility, we could make some money selling energy to them.

"How much?" asked my dad, who usually cut right to the chase in situations like this.

"Between twenty and forty grand, depending on the mix of solar and wind," she said. "But that would make you energy independent, in terms of electricity."

You might think that's insane; to pay forty thousand dollars just so you can save a few hundred each month on electricity. But my father's reaction was "Hmmmmm. Have to run the numbers."

Of course I wasn't thinking about the fact that the modern farmer may take out a loan for a new tractor that's more than the amount of his home mortgage. Figures like $200,000.00 get thrown around all the time by farmers these days. And an electric grain dryer running non stop for a month will use as much electricity as two or three normal families use in a whole year. Then there are house lights, outbuilding lights, compressors, space heaters, fans, welders, yard and security lighting, and a dozen other things I can't think of right now. So an electric bill over three hundred dollars a month was no stranger to my mother, who paid the bills.

So under the right circumstances, making a payment on a loan for the installation of green technology wouldn't cost any more, really, than paying the electric bill itself. Then, in ten or fifteen years, you ended up with a net income, because that money was freed up after that.

But that wasn't what was dangerous about her plan. What was dangerous about her plan was what she added to the mix after my dad said he'd think about it.