Chapter 6

Two hours (and at least seven orgasms) later we went to get the boys and take them to visit their mother.

I dropped them off at the hospital, telling them I'd be back in two hours. I had an appointment with a prospective client's attorney.

My job is one I made up. I'm a mechanical engineer, and one day while I was trying to assemble something, I thought of a much better way to design some of the parts. So I drew the designs, made prototypes, and applied for patents on them. Then I went to the company and presented my new and improved parts. They sent me to their engineering department. I demonstrated that what I had designed was far superior to the originals, and would cut down on warranty claims. The engineer (who had designed the original part) told me to eat shit and bark at the moon, but the company CEO had showed up to watch, and overruled him. He basically said that an engineer's job was to recognize better ways to do things, and if he couldn't do that, then he should think about finding a job somewhere else.

I sold that patent for enough to quit my job and look for other things to improve on. Since 50% of all engineers graduate in the bottom half of their class, but get hired to design things anyway, I didn't have that much trouble. I didn't always sell the idea. But even that was to my advantage once. The company got sued, and the lawyer suing them found out about my improved part that they hadn't bought. He called me to testify that they could have avoided injuring his client if they'd have bought my patent. I had asked a thousand dollars for that patent, and when the case was over, the client gave me ten thousand.

The point is that I work as much as I want to, and not on a schedule of any kind. So it was no problem for me to plan on spending time getting them all back on their feet. They were going to need another car, and until they got one I was their primary source of transportation. Living on their father's life insurance and Jill's small salary, they hadn't been able to afford cars for the kids, like happens in some families.

It turned out, however, that my lack of a schedule would be much more important than I could have ever imagined.

I went back to the hospital to collect the kids. Jill looked much better and was smiling and talking a lot more. It was obvious she was enjoying their presence, but I could see the fatigue in her face, so I told the kids it was time to go and let her rest.

"You kids go ahead," she said. "I need to talk to Bob about something."

"Something we can't hear about?" asked Dennis, making his eyebrows rise and fall like Groucho Marx. I would remember that later.

His mother said "Something you don't need to hear about."

They left and she looked uncomfortable. I just waited.

"They're talking about letting me go home, but there are stipulations," she said.

"What kind of stipulations?" I asked.

"I'll have to have what they call in-home care for at least six weeks."

"What kind of care?" I asked.

"I need help to move around. I can't dress myself yet, or get to the bathroom without help. I have to be bathed, that sort of thing. They have a list of companies that provide that kind of thing, but it's awfully expensive."

"You don't have to pay somebody to do that," I said. "That's why you put all that effort into your kids ... so they can grow up and take care of you in your old age ... right?" I grinned.

"The boys are going to live in the dorm the first year. Besides, I have a hard time envisioning them giving me a sponge bath, you know? Cindy is going to be in school all day." She looked uncomfortable again. "I hate to ask ... but I was wondering if maybe I could get a loan from you. I'll pay you back. It will take some time, but I'll pay you back ... with interest.

I thought about that. I had just closed one deal that had me sitting pretty, so the money was no problem. But that thought only sat there long enough to be acknowledged.

"Don't be silly," I said. "You can borrow me instead."

She blushed. I didn't get it until I remembered the comment about the sponge bath. "Cindy can take enough time out of the day to give you a sponge bath," I said, hastily. "I can do the rest."

"I have to tell you something," she said, suddenly.

"Okay," I said.

"You know how I approved of you ... um ... teaching Cindy ... things."

Now I blushed. If only she knew how much I'd taught her daughter. I nodded.

"Well ... part of the deal ... part that we didn't tell you about ... was that I wanted to know what was going on. I felt like I needed to know how much she was ... um ... learning."

I got a little dizzy. Images of what we'd done flashed through my mind. In one of them my naked ass was sticking up in the air while I licked her pussy.

"Oh boy," I said.

"It's actually been wonderful," said Jill, her voice sounding odd. "I mean sharing things with her as she discovered them ... I can't describe it. Every mother should get the chance. I know that sounds strange, but it's been so good to be able to be there if she had a question. It was awkward, at first, but now we talk like best friends. I was worried about all this, at first. But not any more. It's been good for her. She's so comfortable with things that I struggled with, even after I got married. As unconventional as this has been, it has been good for her. I just know it has."

"I'm glad you feel that way," I said, weakly. I was fully aware that Cindy hadn't had time to talk to her mother about the previous night. Her brothers had been there the whole time.

"The point is, Bob," she said, blushing again. "I think, I know you pretty well anyway, and based on the way my daughter has talked about you, I could probably endure letting you give me a sponge bath ... if it came to that."

I sat there and blinked. There was a lot going through my mind.

"We can discuss that later," I said. "For now, let's get you home, where you'll be in familiar surroundings, and can relax without someone waking you up to take your temperature and pulse."

"Okay," she said. Her voice was strained. The atmosphere felt strained too. I didn't like that, but I needed more time to reflect on what she'd said.

And why she'd said it.

The kids were elated that their mother was coming home, even though I made it quite clear she would not be doing anything to take care of them, and that their job, when home, was to take care of her. Getting her settled in was pretty easy. The nurses had dressed her before she left the hospital, with clothes Cindy had picked out and taken in. She wasn't supposed to walk on the leg cast yet, but I was able to borrow a wheel chair from the hospital. They made me leave my driver's license there, but I didn't care. It beat renting one for three hours.

Once we got her comfortable in bed, the boys went about getting her set up with a TV and radio. They found a little souvenir bell from a trip somebody had made to Boston, and gave that to her to ring if she needed anything.

The next order of business was getting a car for the boys to go to college with. I took care of that, calling it their birthday present, the next time they had a birthday. What I got them was ten years old, but low mileage. They said I could use their room while I was taking care of their mother, and a week later they drove off to college.

Cindy's reaction to all this was interesting. She helped with her mother a lot. For example, she gave her mother the first sponge bath, and did a lot of the cooking. And, of course, she was there in the evenings and at night, which let me go do things I needed to do to keep my own business running.

The first night, after the boys had left, Cindy approached me in the kitchen and put her arms around me for a deep, loin-stirring kiss.

"You don't actually have to sleep in the boys' room, you know," she said.

"Yes I do," I said. "Remember?"

She put her mouth into a little moue. "Yes," she admitted.

"Your mother told me that you have ... um ... shared with her, the things we have done."

Her eyes went round. "She told you?"

I nodded.

"That was supposed to be our secret," said Cindy.

"Keeping secrets from me?" It was my turn to pout.

"We were afraid it would freak you out," she said.

I blinked. "I guess it did, a little bit." I frowned. "So ... did you tell her ... everything?

She looked at me through lowered lashes. "You mean the other night."

"Yes," I said, feeling my cock react to the memory of being in her.

"No," she said.

"Keeping secrets from her too?" I asked.

"Well ... you said it yourself. We weren't supposed to go that far. I was afraid it would freak her out."

"Yeah," I said.

"Do you think I should tell her?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I sighed. "This whole thing has been way different than I expected it to be."

"You're not alone there," she said. "I want to do it again ... really a lot!"

"Of course you do," I said. "That's Mother Nature, trying to get you knocked up."

"You could put on a condom," she suggested.

"I could. I thought you didn't want to feed the addiction."

"I don't know what I want," she moaned. "Well, I know what I want. I want to sleep with you, and do it all night long. But I also know that's not a good idea."

"Welcome to the world of having to make adult choices," I said, smiling wanly.

She folded her arms under her breasts, looking un-amused.

"I think I'm going to go surf the net for a while ... maybe order me a great, big vibrator or something."

"Now, you're playing it smart," I said, grinning.

She wasn't mad. I knew this by the good night kiss I got, which involved her hand finding my half-hard cock and giving it a good squeeze.

I went to see what Jill needed. She was watching America's Got Talent on TV. There was a guy on there playing an array of old time car horns, using his armpits to squeeze the bulbs. He got three Xes.

"How you doing?" I asked.

I'm bored," she said. "Have you seen Cindy?"

"She just went to bed," I said.

"Oh. I was going to have her get me ready for bed."

"I can do that."

She stared at me. "It involves taking my clothes off, Bob. Are you comfortable doing that?"

I blinked. "I'm a big boy," I said.

"Yes." But that's all she said.

It didn't happen like I thought it would. I was trying to figure out how to get her sweat shirt off with her lying down, when she grunted and threw her legs to one side, cast included. Then she groaned and sat up, sideways. She was in good shape before the accident. She even went out running with Cindy once in a while. But she usually walked for exercise, and did yoga. She held both arms straight up and said "Pull my shirt off, please."

I don't know why I was expecting her to be wearing a bra. But she wasn't. With her arms up, her breasts were pulled up too, and her nipples were looking off in vaguely opposite directions. She had breast fed all three children, so when she lowered her arms her breasts sagged a bit, but they still looked good. Cindy's nipples were so pink it was almost shocking sometimes. Her mothers were the color of red wine. Where Cindy's were about the diameter of a number two pencil when they were erect, Jill's were twice that size around, and looked like itty bitty tin cans, made of flesh, perched on areolas that were large and dark.

"They got ugly when I used them for nursing," she said, her voice low.

"They're not ugly," I said, automatically.

"Yes they are," she said.

"I believe I'm the resident expert on whether breasts are ugly or not," I said.

"How do they compare to Cindy's?" she asked, something in her voice that sounded like both interest and fear at the same time.

"They're different," I said. "It isn't fair to compare them to any other breast. These are yours, and you are unique among all women."