Chapter 3

I was watching a movie called Tucker & Dale vs. Evil on Netflix when she got home. It's a really goofy movie, but a lot of fun. She didn't say anything as she walked past me. She unloaded Dilly, and left the stroller in the corner of the living room. She disappeared into her bedroom and then came out with Dilly's diaper bag. She handed him to me and I saw she was sweating and still breathing deeply.

"You get chased by a dog?" I asked.

"I see what running does for you, so I went for a run," she said, with a dark look that suggested I was not yet safe from being kicked. "Change his diaper. I'm going to take a shower."

"No problem," I said, trying to mend fences. "Take your time."

Tucker & Dale vs. Evil isn't exactly a movie that's good for little ones. Teenagers were dying by the flock as I changed Dilly's diaper. But he didn't know that, and all the noise and movement was just noise and movement to him. I thought about putting him in his swing again. He'd seemed to like that. But I knew he needed interaction with real people too, so I kept him on my lap and played games with him.

We were playing 'stand up and sit down' again when his mother came out of the bathroom. She was drying her hair with a towel, all piled up on her head.

She was wearing my robe again. It was tied loosely.

"What are you watching?" she asked, as a young woman screamed and expired bloodily.

I was distracted by the folds of that robe covering and uncovering her pussy as her hands moved the towel over her head.

"It's called Tucker and Dale versus evil," I said.

"That has to be rated R," she said, ruffling her hair harder. The belt of the robe slipped and it gapped open below her waist. She wasn't wearing the yellow panties this time. She wasn't wearing any panties at all. I was shocked to see, on her mons pubis, a small red blob that looked suspiciously like a tattoo. I tore my eyes away from there and lifted them, only to be confronted with her breasts jiggling delightfully under the robe as she rubbed her scalp hard with the towel.

"Um ... yeah, I guess," I said.

"Dilly shouldn't be seeing that kind of thing!" she barked.

"He's not paying any attention to it," I said. "We're playing games."

"I can't believe you let him watch that before bedtime," she complained, leaning over to take him from me. The robe opened enough to show me a nice, round breast with an erect nipple on it. "He's probably going to have nightmares!"

"He will not," I scoffed.

"He'd better not," she warned.

She took him off to put him down. She was gone a long time. I heard thumps and bangs, like she was moving furniture around, but when I called out asking if she needed help, she yelled "No. Just watch your stupid movie."

So I watched my stupid movie.

Penny was gone about half an hour, I suppose. She came into the living room at one point and sat on the couch, drawing her legs up under her. She watched with me for a few minutes in silence, apparently either having seen it already, or just uninterested in what had gone on before. Then she got up and came over to me.

"I'm going to bed," she said. She leaned over to give me a kiss, and the robe showed me everything she had. I looked, of course, and she paused there until I looked up at her eyes. She'd been watching me ogling her. It was obvious. But all she said was "I love you, even when you make me mad."

"I love you too," I said.

"I know," she replied, looking at me intently. "Night."

I watched her walk up the stairs, wishing she didn't have that robe on. I knew I should feel like a heel ... but I didn't.

I watched the rest of the movie and then turned everything off and went to bed in the dark. I knew my way around the house. I'd practiced moving around in the dark, just in case anybody ever broke in and I needed to make them rue the day they'd picked my place.

So I wasn't prepared to crash into something between my bedroom door and the bed.

My hands told me it was Dilly's crib. In my room. I had a sudden vision in my mind of Penny ... in my bed instead of her own ... naked. I made my way around Dilly's crib and got to the bed. I ran my hands over the covers ... seeking ... anxious to find bare flesh.

Except there wasn't any.

I turned on my reading light. My bed was still made ... empty. I looked around. There was a baby in the crib, but no naked mamma anywhere. I went looking and found her in her bedroom, fast asleep, wearing a long T shirt. I might have been a tad bit grumpy when I woke her up.

"You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Is he hungry? What time is it?"

"It's ten o'clock," I said.

"It's too soon. He never eats until midnight. Go back to bed."

"Why is Dilly in my room?" I asked, with forced patience.

"Because if he has a nightmare you're going to deal with it," she said. "Now go away and leave me alone. I need my sleep."

I stood, staring at her. She had already rolled away from me and curled up in a ball. She looked cold, but didn't try to pull any covers over her. I stepped back.

"What happens when he wakes up hungry?" I asked.

"You obviously know where I am," came her muffled reply.

Back in my room I got undressed. I stood, looking at Dilly. Sleeping babies are impossible to resist. They melt even the hardest heart. Not that mine was all that hard. I realized I was being 'punished.' I didn't think it was for the joke about the counterfeit money. That had happened too long ago. But you never know with women. Sometimes they can hold a grudge for a heck of a long time. I could smell the scent of baby coming from the crib. That's hard to resist too, but I left him alone instead of picking him up like I wanted to. Instead, I climbed in bed and fell asleep.

About two minutes later Dilly fussed. I rolled over and sat up. The clock at my bedside said it was after midnight, which was clearly impossible. He fussed some more and I got up to check his diaper. He was awake and sucking his forefinger.

"You hungry, buddy?" I asked.

He kicked and sucked. I took that for a "Yes!"

I picked him up and took him to his mother. She was a little groggy, but sat up on the edge of the bed and lifted up her shirt to bare a breast. The rest of her was naked under the shirt, but that was the last thing I needed to pay attention to. What's good for the gander is good for the goose, so I left him there with her and went back to bed.

I'd slept another two minutes when a warm, naked body climbed into bed with me.

"Finish me off," came her purring voice, as a warm breast was pressed to my face.

I was sucking sweet, warm milk before I woke up enough to realize I'd been had.

I sucked that breast dry. Again, I freely admit that I did it voluntarily and intentionally. She was obviously okay with it. But I pushed her away when she tried to give me the other one. She had been trying to wiggle up next to me too, but I kept changing positions, keeping her on her back as much as possible and holding her down while I sucked. Her hand was wandering around too, and I made sure she never got it to my rock hard prick. She was playing games with me, and I wasn't interested.

"Come on, Uncle Bob," she moaned.

"You can sleep here," I said. "Or you can take him back to your room and sleep there. But sleep is all you're going to do."

"You're a turd," she complained.

"Yes, a big, stinky turd, which won't fit in any diaper you have, so leave me alone."

I actually expected her to take him back to her room, but she didn't. She stretched out next to me and was quiet. Ten minutes later I realized she was masturbating. I think she started stroking herself as soon as she decided to stay, but she got more and more agitated until it moved the whole bed. I should have kicked her out, but I didn't. I just let her get her cookies. I was still hard, but I was mad enough at her game playing that it was okay.

It might have been hard when I went to sleep, but it was soft again when I woke up later.

I was a little uneasy to find her sitting on the side of the bed feeding him again when I woke up the next morning. Obviously she'd gotten up and gotten him from the crib, and I hadn't awakened. That bothered me, since the Army taught me to sleep light.

She was naked, and when I moved, she looked over her shoulder at me.

"Morning," she said."

"Hi," I said back.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You're forgiven." I was trying to show her how not to hold a grudge.

"You're right, you know," she said.

"I usually am," I replied, sitting up.

"I don't mind him making me horny any more."

"Good," I said.

"And I like being horny with you."

"Yeah ... well ... that's not the best idea you came up with lately," I suggested.

"I know, but I can't help it. I've been madly in love with you since I was eight."

"I believe you said crush before," I reminded her.

"You know what I mean. Puppy love," she said.

"Yes, puppy love."

"But I'm not a puppy any more," she pointed out.

"You are, compared to me," I said.

"You're not that old," she said. She changed Dilly to her other breast. "Don't go anywhere. I'm going to need you in a minute."

"You don't actually need me," I said. "It's not like you'll swell up and burst."

She looked over her shoulder at me again.

"Okay, I'm going to want you in a minute. Please don't go anywhere."

"This isn't a good idea, Penny," I groaned.

She didn't answer. Instead, she filled up her baby like he was at a little baby gas station - milk station - and then laid him on the bed and kissed him about a zillion times while telling him she loved him. Then, naked, she crawled over to me.

"I don't have much to be thankful for ... except Dilly and you," she said. "I know nobody else would understand this, but I'm not going to tell anyone, and neither are you, and I don't really care what they think anyway. I feel safe and loved with you. I like that feeling. I like being horny with you, especially if you cooperate with me a little. I'm not asking for much ... just a little something to feel good about. Is that asking so much?"

"If I were Mr. Jones, who you met on the subway, it would be just fine," I said.

"If you were Mr. Jones, I wouldn't be here naked with you," she said. "It isn't Mr. Jones I want. It's you."

I sighed. "I get that, honey. I understand perfectly. I understand it because I know how I feel about you. But that doesn't make it right, and that doesn't make things work. Society's rules are there for a reason."

"I know all about society's rules. My parents were full of them. They beat me with them like they were whips. The rules mattered more than their flesh and blood daughter!" She sounded mad, but didn't look it. "So far the rules haven't done much for me. I know I broke some of them, but before that, when I was a good little girl and did everything like I was supposed to, all I got was more rules and more lectures, until I felt like I had to break a rule just so I'd know I was really alive!"

"And don't you feel alive now?" I asked.

Those dark, green eyes stared into mine. "I feel like I'm alive for the first time since I can remember. I love being here with you ... being able to just be myself. You don't judge me. I'm happy here, happier than I think I've ever been anywhere."

"That's because you know where my secret stash is in my sock drawer," I said.

She didn't laugh. "Knowing I won't starve ... that Dilly can see a doctor if he gets sick ... yes, that makes me feel a lot better. But it's more than that. Lots of people have told me they love me. But when you say it, I know it's true. I can feel it being true, deep in here." She pointed between naked breasts. "I know I'm young, that I have a lot to learn. But I also know when I feel something genuine. I always knew David loved other things more than he loved me. I knew he just wanted to fuck me. But I thought I could change him. I thought he'd start loving me for real ... that Dilly would make him love me. I know now how stupid that was. But it taught me how to recognize real love."

"That still doesn't make it right," I said.

"And you saying that, above all other things you've done for me," she said, "is the proof that your love for me is real. And that's why I don't care if it's right or wrong. I just care that it's real."

We might have continued the conversation, using rational arguments to illuminate our points of view. I might have resisted the incredible temptation to leap for joy at the thought that this delightful young woman wanted me.

Except just about then she crawled on top of me and kissed me.

Let me take a quick poll.

Okay. How many forty-year-old single men out there are interested in having a sweet, naked, willing, seventeen-year-old young woman crawl on top of them for kisses, and to have her nipples sucked, and who knows what else?