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A Haunting Love
by Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

***

Debbie and Robby have secretly played in the mysterious 
abandoned mansion next door for most of their lives. 
Now, as they keep their own flowering sexuality secret, 
the house begins to give up some of its secrets. Then 
their world is turned upside down when a stranger 
arrives, exposing even more secrets about their mother, 
himself, and even them. (MF-teens, mf-pre, youths, inc, 
1st, preg)

***

Chapter One
===========

The house stood dark in the moonlight, among tangled 
undergrowth that had once been an expanse of shrubs, 
carefully tended flower gardens and lawns. Old mossy 
trees loomed around its perimeter, stretching their 
bare looking arms up into the sky as if begging for 
some release from terrible torture. Smaller trees had 
volunteered to fill the empty space around the three-
and-a-half story structure, which had been built during 
the American Civil War, over a hundred years now past. 

Built in the Victorian style, the house had many gables 
and a tower that reached into the sky like it was some 
attempt to reach the stars. While the windows were 
intact, they were dark and had been dark for more years 
than most in the little town of Nettleton could 
remember. Scraps of white showed through the grimy 
glass, remnants of window coverings that seemed to move 
in the wind, occasionally, even though the wind 
couldn't reach them. 

Like sightless eyes, they the windows stared out at the 
world, and hid what might be inside. No paint remained 
to give life or color to the exterior of the gloomy 
place and what, in daylight, was a uniform gray, 
appeared as a mottled collection of shadows in the weak 
light of the quarter moon. 

While all appeared to be lifeless in and around the old 
mansion, there were a multitude of sounds about the 
place; creaks and groans and popping noises as if the 
tired structure was shifting its weight on the stony 
ground. Tree branches rubbed against each other in the 
breeze and a number of creatures provided a soft 
susurration of noise as they struggled to stay alive in 
their daily routines of hunting food and avoiding 
predators. 

Many in the town that surrounded the Nettleton Mansion 
believed that its builders, after which the town was 
named, still roamed the rooms and staircases of the old 
place, even though they had been dead and buried for 
decades. 

The fact that four of the exotic old building's 
residents had been murdered over its long and painful 
history was responsible for the belief that it was 
haunted. That, and those flutters of movement in the 
dark windows, among other things.

One death was an attempt to separate Jeramiah 
Nettleton, from a significant portion of his wealth, in 
the form of trying to kidnap his 12 year old son. The 
boy fought and was strangled during the incident. Two 
men were caught, one of which had the boy's pocket 
watch on him. Both were hanged from an oak branch on a 
tree that still grew on the property. 

Forty years later Joshua Nettleton's wife, Constance, 
was found murdered in her bedroom, stabbed repeatedly 
by an obviously angry and demented person. When her 
almost decapitated body was discovered, she was naked, 
and her clothing was neatly stacked on a sideboard 
nearby. Her gardener, was accused of accosting her and, 
when she tried to resist the rape, he was believed to 
have killed her in a fit of anger. The gardener was 
also hanged, though, in this case, from a proper 
gallows in the town square. 

And, in 1931, both Roger and Elizabeth Nettleton had 
been murdered in their sleep. Investigation revealed 
that the murderers, when they were caught with the 
family silver, admitted that they had been hired to 
kill the whole family by Roger's business partner, who 
would have then inherited the entire mining operation. 
The men confessed that they hadn't been able to find 
the children in the house, and had therefore taken what 
they could carry and taken off. 

In fact, it was the two children, ages four and six at 
the time, who had raised the hue and cry by appearing 
in a servant's room in the carriage house, soaked with 
blood. That resulted in the bodies being found, and the 
murderers being pursued and caught. 

The children couldn't talk very well at that age, and 
all the questioners could get out of them was that they 
had been in the tower room and had heard screams. The 
fact that the only route from that room to the outside 
led right by where their parents were being killed, and 
the fact that the children were too young to understand 
that the reason Mommy wouldn't get up was because she 
was dead, just made things more mysterious. 

That mystery was also solved. The robbers were caught 
red handed. Technology had advanced by then, and the 
criminals, to include one Chauncey Fallworthy, the 
mastermind of the horrific crime, were electrocuted 
instead of being hanged. 

The children were removed from the sad place and 
fostered until their majority, but in the decades since 
the murders no Nettleton had returned to the place. It 
had too many sad and painful memories. 

Including the criminals, eight people associated with 
the place in one way or another had died violent 
deaths. 

But, banks being what they are, managed the already 
existing trust fund set aside to take care of taxes, 
and produced the required funds each year, duly 
transferred to the county. And, county governments 
being what they are, the funds were received and 
disbursed. County commissioners didn't care where the 
tax money came from. They just wanted to spend it.

There were only a very few people who knew what had 
happened to the Nettleton fortune that had resulted 
from sharp investments and savvy supervision of a 
mining empire. 

Most of those who knew worked at the bank, but they 
were not willing to part with that information lightly. 
There were no heirs other than the two sad children, so 
people drew their own conclusions.

The property sat and decayed. Various teenagers tried 
to get in, probably on a dare, or in an attempt to 
establish a makeout haven, but the wrought iron fence 
that completely surrounded the property had been made 
specifically to keep people out. And, after the 
murders, someone had gone to great lengths to securely 
board up the lower windows and doors, foiling casual 
attempts to plunder or engage in other mischievousness. 

Various people in town swore they'd seen mysterious 
lights through the grimy windows in the house, on dark 
nights, over the years and, though there was no data to 
support it, most townspeople thought of the place as 
haunted. It was easy for those who swore, over the 
years, that they saw movement in the boarded up house, 
to believe that unhappy spirits roamed the dark place.

One attempt at raising the property taxes had been 
made, years ago, but had failed. The current absentee 
owner, one Robert Ellsworth Nettleton, who was one of 
those sad children fostered after his parents' murder, 
and whom almost no one in town had ever met, fought off 
that attempt. No one was beating down the doors to buy 
the place. In that part of the state land... that 
wasn't haunted... was plentily available. 

The fact that the town had been named for the mining 
baron who had originally built the house was only a dim 
memory documented in dusty old papers in a box of 
historical documents in the basement of the town 
library. 

Over the years, people began to think of "The Nettleton 
Mansion" as having been named after the town... rather 
than the other way around. The haunted wreck was a 
thing of mild curiosity, mostly ignored as people drove 
past its nearly invisible rusty iron fence, which was 
now screened by a tangle of vegetation. Only the 
imposing wrought iron gates were really visible from 
the road any more, and beyond them a dim unpaved track 
that was impassable to vehicles these days due to the 
three inch saplings that were trying to fill the empty 
space. 

And so the old house sat and waited for something to 
happen. 

In some ways the house mirrored what had happened to 
Nettleton, the town. When, as the ore veins were 
cleaned out and the operation began to be less and less 
profitable, the miners were laid off, a few at a time, 
until the mines finally closed for good in the late 
forties. Nettleton lost about half it's population in 
the process, and property values plummeted. While that 
might have made it attractive to outsiders, there was 
nothing else in the town to bring them there. 

The town, like the Nettleton mansion, slid slowly and 
almost gracefully into a quiet decline. Once a 
population equilibrium was reached, people began to 
decide, on more or less a nationalistic basis, not to 
let the town die completely. A cold storage company was 
induced to buy one of the larger mines and turn it into 
something that generated some badly needed jobs and the 
wages that they provided. 

During the fifties a manufacturing plant was built, to 
get the tax incentives, and several other businesses 
took advantage of the low cost of living in the area to 
produce goods that were shipped to more lucrative 
markets. Things had settled into a workable little 
place where people liked to live, but which had no hope 
of ever being in the lime light again.

===

Debbie Franklin lay on her bed in her bedroom, staring 
at the ceiling. She was bored. She lay listening to 
Petula Clark, singing her new hit song "Downtown" and 
scowled that, in Nettleton, there was no "Downtown" to 
go to for the excitement the singer drew reference to.

It was early summer between her junior and Senior year 
in High School and she couldn't wait to be a Senior. 
Due to her late birthday, she hadn't been able to take 
Driver's Ed in her Junior year, like most kids did. 
While the State didn't require Driver's Ed to get a 
license, her mother did. The way she thought of it, 
though, was that when school started again, she'd turn 
sixteen and be able to get a license. 

A license meant freedom to Debbie and she yearned for 
freedom. Living in Nettleton was, she had decided 
several years ago, punishment of some kind, imposed on 
her, probably by fate, and probably as a result of the 
fact that she loved to masturbate. It was 1965 and, 
despite the sexual revolution under way in America, 
adults loved to classify self pleasure as a nasty habit 
that was probably responsible for a variety of personal 
ailments and social ills. 

Debbie ignored all the warnings, though. Even though 
she was classified by her friends and most adults as a 
"Tomboy", she loved nothing more than the exquisite 
pain and thrills that her fingers frequently brought to 
her as they teased the little bump between her slippery 
pussy lips that she had only recently learned the 
proper name of. 

Debbie thought about masturbating now. But she 
dismissed the idea. She preferred to be totally naked 
when she got those wonderful feelings, and it was the 
middle of the afternoon. While her mother, Ramona, was 
at work at her job as a teller at the bank, Debbie's 
twin brother Robby was around somewhere with his friend 
Mike. He had a bad habit of just walking into her room 
when he wanted to see her. Privacy was a word he didn't 
seem to understand. And, while she wouldn't have minded 
her brother finding her gyrating on the bed with her 
fingers stuck up in her, she sure didn't want Mike to 
see that. 

Debbie sighed and got up off the bed. She wandered to 
the window and looked out at the forest next door. Her 
eyes were drawn to the tall round tower with it's 
conical cap that topped the old Nettleton mansion next 
door. 

Unlike... and unknown to... most people in Nettleton, 
she was intimately familiar with that old house. Having 
lived next door to it their whole lives, she and Robby 
had naturally explored the dark forest surrounding it. 
They had never heard the stories that caused most 
adults in town to avoid the place and, to them, the 
forest was a magical place. The house was too, though 
it was a bit daunting and dark and... scary somehow... 
at first. 

She thought back to some of the things that were 
imprinted indelibly in her memory about the mysterious 
place next door. 

It was when they were about ten, and were playing in 
the forest that they found "the secret". There was an 
old root cellar behind the house, off to one side of 
the sagging carriage house that had once held horses, 
and still held an old carriage with only three wheels 
and rotted leather seats. Their tentative exploration 
of the overgrown cellar entrance was the result of a 
fantasy that there must be gold in there, since it 
looked like a mine to them. 

Instead, when they had snitched a candle from home and 
illuminated the dark hole, they had found that it had 
walls of brick, covered by wooden shelves, which 
themselves were partially covered with glass jars 
containing something dark and gelatinous that they knew 
had been food at one time. Their fantasy morphed into 
pretending that the gold had been hidden in these jars 
of muck, since no one would think to look for it there. 
They only opened one, though. The stink convinced them 
that this particular daydream wasn't worth pursuing. 

But they had made the cellar into a hideout, where they 
could evade various imagined bad men, or police seeking 
trespassers, or just be in a place that was theirs 
alone, and which nobody else knew about. They fixed it 
up with old furniture found in the carriage house, and 
pillows and blankets from home... a small hidden nest 
where they could disappear into when they wanted to. 

And they kept it a secret from everyone. They somehow 
knew their mother would disapprove in the strongest 
terms if she found out they had found a place they 
could slip through the fence that surrounded the 
Nettleton Manor, as they had renamed it. 

But the cellar itself wasn't "the secret." It was while 
they were moving things around in the root cellar that 
they had discovered "the secret." Robby had been 
tugging on a tall rack of shelves, trying to break off 
a piece of wood that he needed to put under an old 
overstuffed chair which had only three stubby legs. But 
instead of the board coming loose, the whole shelf unit 
had, with a creaking groan, swung outward from the 
wall, exposing a dark tunnel behind it. 

More candles were smuggled into the hideout and the 
tunnel was explored. It was featureless, a tube of old, 
crumbling brick that led nowhere for sixty feet to an 
oaken door with a ring on it instead of a knob. Neither 
child, at only ten years of age, had been able to 
figure out how to open the door. It seemed to be stuck 
fast. 

But their dreams of hidden treasure were re-awakened 
and, for a week, they examined the door, which was 
solid as a rock. The close fitted planks of the door 
were held together by thick iron straps with huge 
rivets holding them to the door. Hammers and 
screwdrivers, which were all the tools available to the 
exploring siblings, made only dents and scratches. 

Debbie was the one who solved the mystery when, in 
frustration, she hit one of the thick rivets with the 
hammer and the door made a grating, popping sound and 
moved a quarter inch. 

It took the combined weight of both kids to pull on the 
ring and get the door to move more. Their excitement, 
aided by a little adrenaline, caused the door to 
suddenly creak open, dumping both youths on their 
butts. They stared at the wooden steps beyond the 
door... steps covered in a thick coating of dust... 
steps that led up... into the Nettleton Mansion. 

Fighting bouts of continuous sneezes brought on by dust 
that hadn't been disturbed for decades, brother and 
sister held hands and climbed the steps. They found 
themselves in a hallway of sorts, so narrow that they 
couldn't walk side by side. The expanse of wall, made 
only of boards butted together and nailed from the 
other side of the walls to studs, extended beyond the 
range of the two candles they had. 

They crept forward, afraid now for some unknown reason, 
until they came to another door with a ring in it. That 
one opened fairly easily when they both pushed against 
it and they found themselves in a room that looked 
startlingly like the root cellar. Its walls were 
covered with shelves, and they recognized it as a 
pantry. The back of the door had shelves on it, like 
the one in the root cellar. These shelves too were 
cluttered with old cans and jars. There were traces of 
what was left of sacks too, but mice had feasted on 
their contents over the years and all that was left was 
their droppings and tatters of cloth. 

The discovery of the secret tunnel and what turned out 
to be a secret corridor inside the house, that gave 
either visual or physical access to almost every room 
in the mansion, changed the lives of the twins. Now 
their private world had been expanded a thousand fold. 
Over the next five years they roamed the old house as 
if they owned it. 

Almost everything had been left behind, but little of 
worth was left. The good dishes were gone, leaving 
behind mismatched bowls and plates probably used by 
children and servants. The same was true of utensils. 
Furniture was still there, but most looked to be in bad 
shape. There were still paintings and portraits on the 
walls, but they were dark with age and dust, and it was 
difficult to tell what, or who they portrayed. Anything 
made of, or covered with cloth had deteriorated and 
faded. 

Everything exposed to the air, that was. 

There were chests made of cedar wood that had preserved 
their contents remarkably well, and some drawers had 
contained some kind of pungent smelling substance that 
had also kept the rigors of time and mice at bay, 
mostly. There were beautiful gowns and suits packed 
away that the children gasped over. There were hats and 
shoes and umbrellas made of lace. 

There were shirts and things that looked like a 
ballerina’s tutu, but which hung down to the floor 
instead of sticking out. There were old smoking pipes, 
carved into the likeness of fishermen, or a tiger's 
head and some decorated with tarnished silver, or 
simply plain. They found a few scattered coins, which 
were immediately identified as the treasure they 
forever sought. 

Because the only things they found in reasonably good 
condition were the clothing, they played dress up 
together, Debbie gathering too-big dresses around 
herself and parading back and forth while Robby put on 
a top hat and tails that hung to the floor, one of the 
pipes clamped in his jaw as he struck poses for his 
sister. It was in this way that they kept on 
discovering their bodies after their mother, for some 
unexplained reason, established separate bath times for 
them. 

During dress up play, Debbie unashamedly stripped out 
of her street clothes to don a gown while Robby watched 
with interest, noting that, as time went by, her 
breasts began to push out from her flat chest and then 
got bigger and softer looking every year. She watched 
as he skinned out of his clothes too, to don some fancy 
vest that, at first, covered him like a jacket, but, as 
he grew, left his growing genitals exposed. 

They pretended to be lords and ladies of years gone by, 
each one with their own wardrobe, and they had these 
characters interact with each other, requiring frequent 
changes of costume. So they saw each other naked almost 
daily as they grew into puberty. 

It was Debbie who developed pubic hair first... mere 
wisps of golden that sprung from her skin almost 
overnight, it seemed. Then there were more and suddenly 
Robby could see them. 

"You have something on you." he pointed out that first 
day he noticed. 

She looked down at her pubescent mound with it's 
closely closed lips that covered up the little bud she 
already knew all about by then. She'd never told her 
brother about what she did in her bed at night. They 
shared almost everything in the world, but that was one 
thing she instinctively wanted to keep for her own 
secret. 

"That's my hair." she said, as if it were obvious, 
which to her it was. 

"When did you get hair?" asked her brother. 

"I don’t' know. One day it was just there." 

Robby bent over, examining his penis. "I don't have 
any." he said, disgruntled. 

There was some competition between them. Their father 
had died in an accident when they were little and their 
mother had never sought another husband. They got by on 
her salary at the bank, but there was no extra money 
for frills. As a result, whenever something did come 
into the house, ownership was heatedly discussed and 
quite often things were portioned out. If it was a food 
item, like a box of candy, each got his or her portion. 
If it were something else, each claimed a certain 
percentage of the use of the item. It was mostly a 
game, because they shared everything they had, but 
establishing ownership meant that they could then 
CHOOSE to share, which was somehow important to each. 

For her to have hair, and him not... seemed unjust 
somehow. 

"Do you have those singing things too?" he asked. 

Debbie paused, her pert young breasts with their soft 
pink puffy nipples hanging a little as she bent to step 
into a gown of forest green. 

"What?" she asked. 

"You know, what we heard about in health class" said 
Robby. "Those singing periods where you have blood... 
down there." He pointed to what was already covered. 

"Menstrual periods?" she asked. "What do they have with 
singing?" 

"Didn't minstrals go from place to place in the old 
days and sing songs and tell stories and stuff?" he 
asked. "I never could figure out what that had to do 
with girls bleeding, but I'm sure that's what they 
said." 

"Dummy!" she laughed. "I have MEN-stral periods, not 
MIN-stral periods." She giggled. "I sure don't feel 
like singing when they come around. I'll tell you 
that!" 

"It all sounds the same to me." sighed Robby, who took 
no offense at being labeled a 'dummy'. "But you have 
hair and you have... those thingy periods. Doesn't that 
mean you can have a baby?" 

"I guess so." said Debbie, unconcerned. Her mother had 
simply explained that periods happened to girls as they 
grew up, and it was something they had to put up with. 
She understood the remorse and tears in her mother's 
eyes as that was said when her mother made her put the 
thick pad between her legs that soaked up all that 
blood. It was AWFUL! The pad rubbed her legs and was 
uncomfortable. But if she didn't use them it ruined her 
panties and even the jeans she loved to wear, so she... 
put up with it. 

Later that night, back home, she found Robby with the 
textbook they used in health class, reading avidly. 

"It says here that boys grow hair later than girls. 
When that happens semen will start coming out of my 
penis." he said. 

"Well if it's anything like my menstrual periods, don't 
be anxious for that to happen." she said darkly. 
"Periods are a pain." 

"I don't see why. It already feels good if I rub it." 
he said, looking up. 

Debbie was astonished. At thirteen, she thought she was 
the only teenager in the world who disregarded the 
stern warnings about masturbation that seemed to come 
from everywhere. It had never occurred to her that her 
brother might do the same thing. 

"You rub your penis?" she asked. 

A guarded look came into Robby's eyes. 

"You know... in the shower... when I wash it." 

Debbie wasn't buying it. She knew her brother too well 
and he couldn't lie to her. 

"You MASTURBATE?" she whispered as loudly as she could 
without drawing the attention of their mother, who was 
in the house somewhere. 

"SHHHHH!" Robby's eyes darted to the doorway. "I didn't 
say that." he whispered. 

Debbie knew she had an advantage, and she pressed it 
mercilessly. 

"You masturbate... don't you. You can't lie to me. I'm 
going to tell mom!" 

"NO!" he whispered urgently. "She'll KILL me if she 
finds out. Come on Deb, it was an accident. I really 
WAS just washing it and it got to feeling so good I 
just kept washing it and then it got hard and if felt 
so good I just didn't want to stop. Don't tell mom... 
pleeeease?" 

"I don't know" said Debbie in her carefully practiced 
but completely fictitious voice of thoughtful worry. "I 
heard it makes hair grow on your palms if you do it 
more than just a few times." 

She watched with glee as Robby immediately looked at 
his palms. Then, with puzzlement on his face he looked 
back up to see his sister holding in a laugh. 

Robby was much more mercurial than his sister. He 
jumped immediately to hot anger as he realized his 
sister had tricked him. 

"Get out of my room." he said in a low voice. "Tell mom 
whatever you like." 

Debbie knew when she went too far. She had done it 
hundreds of times, teasing her thin-skinned brother. 
She also knew how to deal with him when he got mad like 
that. 

"Come on you goof." she said in a jovial voice. "I was 
just kidding around." He was still surly and she knew 
she'd have to give him something in return. She thought 
about her own secret, so carefully kept over the years. 
Knowing that he did it too it didn't seem so dark any 
more. She held out her palms to him. "I do it too." 

Debbie knew her brother well. He was instantly 
intrigued. 

"You DO?" he whispered. "Really Deb?" 

She blushed, but nodded, dropping her hands. "Yeah, a 
couple of years now." 

She saw his eyes widen and his mouth drop open. 

"And I'm not insane, and I don't have warts or any of 
that stuff." She folded her arms, like she'd settled 
some big debate. 

"How come you didn't tell me?" he asked. 

"How come YOU didn't tell ME?" she shot back. 

"Oh... yeah." he said. He looked thoughtful. "How... 
often... do you do it?" he leaned toward her as he 
whispered. 

Debbie's skin had begun to go back to its normal pale 
color, but she blushed again. She wasn't so sure she 
wanted to admit just how often she rubbed her clitty. 

"Ummm... a lot." she settled for. 

He slumped a little. "Me too." he said, his voice 
normal, but low. "Sometimes I take a shower when I 
don't even need one... just so I can... do it." 

Debbie had always thought she was the smarter twin. It 
was at times like this that she felt justified. 

"You don't have to be in the shower to do it." she said 
patiently. "I do it in bed, after everybody's asleep." 

Robby's forehead wrinkled. "Really?" he said. "I never 
thought of that." He looked at his lap. "Boy, just 
thinking about it makes me want to do it now." 

Debbie had never really been all that interested in 
boys, at least not as sexual objects. She had her 
little secret, that she did in bed, and which satisfied 
her, and that was fine. Other girls went on and on 
about boys and kissing and all kinds of things that 
sounded pretty yucky to Debbie at the tender age of 
thirteen. Her way of conquering a boy was to beat him 
at a footrace, or make it to home plate without being 
thrown out.

"Well don't do it when I'm around." she sniffed. 

They hadn't talked about it again, but after that, when 
they went to the Nettleton Mansion to explore, if they 
dressed up, each one was more than a little interested 
in the other's body. They still had an easy unconcerned 
manner about themselves as they got nude together. 

It was almost a year later that Robby, while he was 
putting on a formal kind of suit that had a shirt with 
no collar, and which had begun to fit him a lot better 
than it had in years past, said "I'm getting hair too." 

Debbie, who now had a nice collection of honey gold 
hair above her pouting pussy lips wanted to see, so 
Robby bared his adolescent prick and she bent over to 
look. Sure enough dark brown hair was beginning to 
sprout all around his penis and the sack that hung 
under it. That sack suddenly looked much more full than 
Debbie remembered it being... larger. As she stared the 
penis moved all by itself. 

"I can feel you breathing on me." said Robby in a 
strained voice. 

"Your penis is moving!" said Debbie. 

"I think it's getting hard." said Robby. 

"Why?" she asked. 

"I don't know. Sometimes it just does that." he 
replied. "When it does... that's when I want to rub 
it." 

Debbie's mind set about such things had undergone not a 
little transformation in the last eight months. Her 
breasts were now huge, from her own perspective, 
thought they were only the size of a softball, roughly. 
The nipples, which had been puffy and soft had begun to 
get firm, especially whenever she rubbed herself in 
bed. They tingled too, and she had found that it felt 
very good to rub them and squeeze them gently as she 
rubbed between her legs. 

"You want to masturbate NOW?" she asked, standing up. 
"Why?" 

"I don't know." he said. "I TOLD you it just happens 
sometimes. Whenever it gets hard I know it will feel 
really good to rub it." 

"Could I watch while you do it?" she asked, a strange 
feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

"I thought you said not to do it around you." he 
remembered. 

"I changed my mind." she said, with the certainty that 
all women have, and which is based on the fact that all 
women somehow know they have the ultimate and 
uncontested right to do so. 

"I'd feel pretty weird doing that here." he said, 
looking around the dusty bedroom they were in. 

"Why?" she asked. Debbie felt completely at home in the 
Nettleton mansion by now. 

"What if the ghosts watched?" he asked. 

They had heard some of the stories about the house by 
now and had decided long ago that the Nettleton mansion 
was, in fact, haunted. Things got moved around... 
little things... and there were noises. But, after 
fleeing several times in abject panic, they had always 
crept back in. 

Eventually they came to the comfortable agreement that, 
while there might be ghosts in the house, they weren't 
apparently unfriendly ones. They spoke to the ghosts a 
few times, proclaiming loudly that they weren't there 
to take anything, or destroy anything, and that the 
ghosts were welcome to do whatever they wanted to do, 
since it was, after all, the ghosts' house. 

"Why would ghosts care if you masturbate?" asked 
Debbie. 

Debbie threw out "the challenge": "I'll do it if you do 
it." 

"The challenge" was a time honored way in which they 
talked each other into doing whatever it was that one 
of them was worried about doing, but which the other 
one wanted to do. They had issued "the challenge" to 
each other so many times in the past that the result 
was almost always an immediate, if still somewhat 
nervous acquiescence to the suggestion... whatever it 
was. Basically, responding to "the challenge" was a 
habit they'd both fallen into, and it was ingrained in 
them... as normal as hunger. 

"OK" Robby stuck out his jaw and his hand went to his 
penis. He immediately began stroking it, and it got 
even longer and harder than it had been. 

"Hold on!" complained Debbie. "Give me a minute here." 
She dropped the gown, just naturally getting ready to 
do it like she almost always did it... naked. 

Then she went to the bed, which still had a musty cover 
on it. Pulling that off she scooted up onto the sagging 
mattress and lay back, sideways to her brother. Her 
fingers went automatically to her clit and she began 
rubbing it in circles. 

"OK" she said. "You can go on now." 

Robby, unlike his sister, had been interested in the 
opposite sex for some time now. His friends also told 
tales of kisses and groping sessions and other more 
involved things that he always pretended to know all 
about, but actually knew very little of. He had never 
actually thought of his sister like he thought of other 
girls. Sure, she had breasts and all the other things 
girls had, but he had seen them so often he just took 
them for granted. 

Until now. 

Now, she was a girl, and she was naked, and she was 
DOING something sexual right there in front of him. 

He felt something in his balls that he hadn't felt but 
once before. That one time he had been stroking his 
soapy penis in the shower. Usually he just stroked, and 
it felt good, and he just assumed that was all there 
was to jerking off. His mother usually came along 
yelling at him to stop wasting water, so his stroke 
sessions never went on as long as he'd have liked them 
to. And, when he started doing it in bed, at Debbie's 
suggestion, he'd experienced much the same thing. He 
concentrated on the feeling of his hand, and what it 
was doing. He'd never thought about a girl while he was 
doing it... at least not in any specific way. He hadn't 
quite connected what he was doing to what his penis 
COULD do... with a girl. 

As a result, Robby had never actually had an orgasm. 

Now, however, seeing his sister's fingers busy at the 
juncture of her legs, he stared. And he suddenly 
realized that where her fingers were moving in more and 
more rapid circles, the lips under her fingers were 
puffing up and beginning to gape open, exposing the 
very area where his health teacher had told him that a 
penis was designed to fit into. 

The strange feeling in his balls increased until it was 
almost painful. He was jerking faster now, much faster 
than he'd ever done it before. 

Debbie was watching, her eyes half closed, her lower 
lip caught between pearly white teeth. She moaned and 
the sound bore into Robby's heart like a dagger. 

Then she stuck one of her fingers into that dark 
opening and it disappeared up inside her. The 
connection between what was in his hand, and where her 
finger was, exploded into Robby's mind and the pain in 
his penis became unbearable. He had an instant of panic 
that he'd hurt himself when he felt a soothing rush 
of... something... racing through his sensitive penis. 
To his astonishment, a long stream of milky-white fluid 
arced up and out of his cock. It seemed to hang in the 
air for a couple of heartbeats, which he could clearly 
feel in his chest, and then splatted wetly on the edge 
of the bed and to the floor. 

Debbie knew instinctively what that liquid was, and 
seeing it shoot out of her brother's penis gave her a 
feeling deep inside her that was almost as scary as 
what Robby had felt just before he ejaculated. She 
pulled hard on the finger deep inside her, mashing her 
clit and her own orgasm crashed down on her like a ton 
of bricks. 

"AWWWWWWMMMMMMMMM" she groaned, curling up into a fetal 
position, her finger still buried in her as the 
sensations wracked her young body. 

Meanwhile Robby was staring as more and more of that 
fluid leapt out of his cock. It suddenly stopped, and 
he felt a dull ache in his balls. It still felt good to 
hold his penis and he did so tightly. When he finally 
let the pressure off a big bubble of white oozed out of 
the tip and hung, swinging gently as he panted, before 
dropping between his feet. 

It was quiet, the only sound the panting of two 
teenagers. Debbie finally opened her eyes and stared at 
her brother, for whom she suddenly felt feelings that 
were more intense than she'd felt in the past. That was 
saying something, and she knew, somehow, that 
everything had changed between them. It was a good 
change, though, as far as she was concerned. They had 
always been close, but now they shared something they 
felt with no other person on earth. 

"That was awesome." she sighed. 

"I squirted." he said, amazement clear in his voice. 

"You sure did. It almost got on me." she said, 
unfolding and stretching. 

Robby watched as her naked body stretched, long and 
slim on the bed. He had a sudden urge to squirt some 
more, even though his balls ached and his penis felt 
dead. He realized he was still holding it and let it 
flop down. 

"I never squirted before." he said, unnecessarily. 

"You said you would some day." she pointed out. 

"Yeah... I guess I just wasn't expecting it." He stood 
there uncomfortably. "Is that OK?" 

Debbie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the 
bed. Her leg felt a wet spot and she rolled to see 
she'd put it right on a glob of his spunk. 

"Ewwww" she said as she wiped at it with her hand. "Do 
you have to get it all over the place?" 

"I'm sorry Deb." he said, his voice tragic. "I didn't 
mean it... honest." 

She stood up, looking at her brother's face. He was 
obviously upset that she was upset. 

"It's OK. You're supposed to do that. Just try not to 
get it all over the place next time." 

Robby's response caught her off guard. Wearing only an 
unbuttoned shirt he stepped forward and hugged his 
naked sister. 

"Oh thanks Deb, I promise. I'm so glad you're not mad." 

Debbie was shocked by the feel of his chest against her 
breasts, and something poking into the area she had 
just been rubbing, also warm and soft. Before she could 
process that strange feeling of naked skin against her 
own naked skin he backed up. The look on his face was 
of pure joy. She wanted to laugh because he was so 
eager to please her. She felt a rush of warmth in her 
chest. 

"I love you, you goof. You could never really make me 
mad." she said. "Now come on, I want to be Lady 
Nettleton." She retrieved the green gown that "Lady 
Nettleton" always wore and stepped into it, pulling it 
up to cover her nakedness. It fit her a lot better 
these days too, and she smoothed it into place at her 
waist, turning so that Robby could button the numerous 
tiny buttons up the back. 

"I love you too Deb." he sighed, as his fingers 
strained to deal with the small pieces of round bone 
that closed her dress. 

Then he put on his formal suit and they got the 
mismatched porcelain tea service out of a cupboard in 
the dining room and pretended to have tea. Robby 
commented on how beautiful she was, and how well the 
crops were doing, and how well she was supervising the 
servants. She curtsied and spoke about his bravery in 
running off the latest raiders, and how handsome he 
was. 

Then they danced, pretending they were at a ball they 
were hosting, with hundreds of people all around them. 
Robby "introduced" Debbie to their imaginary guests, 
calling her "his beautiful bride, Edwina" and, because 
they didn't actually know the real names of the semi-
fictional Nettletons they were pretending to be, she 
introduced him as "My handsome husband, Beauregard". 

They had pretended to be Beauregard and Edwina many 
times before this, but this time, after sharing 
something so intimate, the mood was different. To the 
surprise of both of them they slowed in their dancing 
and were suddenly kissing each other, standing still, 
their lips clinging to each other's. 

Debbie's eyes were closed and, while she was imagining 
herself kissing the mythical 'Beauregard', she realized 
that her brother's lips tasted sweet and good. 

Robby had forgotten all other women, and the feel of 
his sister's lips against his was hot and electric. He 
felt his penis begin to stiffen again. 

He pulled back. "My penis is getting hard again!" 

She looked at him sternly. "We don't have time for that 
again. Come one. Mom will be wondering where we got 
to." 

Ten minutes later they were climbing up out of the root 
cellar, dressed in their own clothes, just normal 
looking teenagers, as they slipped between the trees 
back to the real world. 

Robby and Debbie, for whatever reason, did not take 
their newfound sexual intimacy back home with them. It 
was something to be shared only in the Nettleton Manor. 
While each still masturbated at home, neither sought to 
be with the other while they did so. Perhaps it was 
that both knew, on some level, that what they had done 
would be frowned on most horribly by any adult who 
found out about it. 

Or perhaps it was because that secret sharing of their 
passion was so precious that it must be restricted to 
their secret imaginary world. For whatever reason, 
there was unspoken agreement between them that, if they 
were to do that again - and both wanted to do that 
again - that it would only take place in the faded 
rooms in the forlorn house, that harbored so many other 
secrets so well. 

And, perhaps because that sharing was SO intense, they 
both regarded it as a treat, or luxury, and as such, 
did not increase the frequency with which they stole 
off to explore and pretend in the house. No doubt there 
was an unconscious desire to protect, for as long as it 
could be protected, their secret hideaway. If they went 
too often, someone would eventually notice them, or 
find them, and everything would be ruined. 

Over the next couple of years they grew more mature, 
though, and while the house still held fascination for 
them, they played dress up less often and turned to 
exploration of the secrets of the house more. 

They explored the secret passageways extensively, 
finding places where holes had been made in the walls 
so that a person in the secret passageway could peer 
into the various rooms of the mansion... including the 
bedrooms. Most of these peeking holes were so cunningly 
constructed that they were incorporated into the whorls 
of woodwork that adorned the fancy trim of the rooms. 
Two were designed so that they looked natural as gaps 
in the mountings of old gas light fixtures. 

The bedrooms held fascination for them too. One had 
obviously been a little girl's room, with dolls and 
tiny dresses that were the match for the larger ones 
that older women had worn. Another was littered with 
wooden toys, carved horses, and an intricately made 
wagon... boy's toys. Then there was the big bedroom, 
with its canopied bed, the canopy hanging in tatters of 
rotted cloth, but still grand in it's faded way. This 
room held the chests filled with gowns and formal mens' 
wear that they loved to put on.

Still others were almost bare of furnishings, and 
smaller, as if people less important had slept in them. 
Those rooms, they noticed, all had peek holes that 
viewed primarily the beds. 

And, when they felt the urge, instead of dressing up... 
they dressed down, stripping off their clothes to tease 
each other with their nakedness, strutting and 
posturing, exposing their sexual parts and, when their 
passions had been raised as high as they could stand 
it... masturbating in ways that inflamed themselves and 
each other. 

It was inevitable, in a way, that each time they did 
this, they got closer and closer to each other, until, 
one time, Robby's spurts of semen splashed on his 
sister's skin. He had ignored her admonition "not to 
get it all over the place" simply because he didn't 
know how to avoid "getting it all over the place." And 
she said nothing, because she loved watching those 
streams of spunk fly through the air so much she didn't 
press the issue. It always dried by the time they 
returned, so all she had to do was avoid stepping in it 
when it was fresh. 

And this time, when it splattered across her stomach as 
she lay, legs spread as wide as she could get them, 
hand frantically shoving a finger deep in her pussy, 
she didn't complain about it because of the surprise 
that it was so hot where it touched her. Her only 
experience with touching it was that first time, when 
she sat on a spot that had had time to cool in the air. 
So, without thinking of where it came from, she'd 
always thought of it as being cold. But now, where it 
made a streak on her stomach and one arm, it was warm. 
And somehow warm wasn't at all yucky. 

Her orgasm that day was hotter than ever. 

Robby, though, was horrified. 

"I'm sorry Deb" he gushed, backing up as his prick 
continued spurting wildly. "I didn't mean it." Robby, 
being a boy, had a long history of yelping "I didn't 
mean it." 

His sister shushed him though, to his great relief. He 
watched in amazement as she brought the hand away from 
her pussy and scooped up a glob of his spunk, rubbing 
it between her fingers. 

"It's not so bad." she said. "It's really slippery!" 

Perhaps, because she was intent on calming her brother 
down, or because she was concentrating on feeling the 
stripe of his spend across her stomach, she habitually 
returned her spermy fingers to her clit and rubbed it 
gently in the afterglow of her orgasm. She was slippery 
enough already that she didn't notice the added slip as 
her brother's sperm was rubbed into the top of her 
pussy split. 


Chapter Two
===========

The incident in which her brother's semen had splashed 
on her skin had just been a few days ago. Debbie 
thought about it as she stared out her window at the 
roof of the tower where she had played princess, while 
her brother, the knight, fought all manner of monsters 
and beasts for the privilege of getting to see her rub 
her naked pussy while he jerked that lovely slippery 
stuff out of his prick. 

She sighed again as Petula Clark sang the last chorus 
of "Downtown" and the announcer promised that the new 
Beatles hit would be coming up soon. She couldn't go 
find Robby and ask him to go to the manor. With his 
friend there that wouldn't work. They hadn't told any 
of their friends about their secret place, because all 
their friends would want to go and see it. Then it 
wouldn't be theirs alone any more, and they wouldn't be 
able to masturbate there either, since they'd never 
know if some friend was going to sneak in like they 
did. 

She opened the window to get some air into her room, 
which seemed stuffy. It was then that she heard the 
noise coming from the Nettleton Manor next door. 

It was a motor noise, that much she could tell, like a 
truck. There was a clanking sound too, but it came and 
went, while the motor noise was more or less constant. 
But that was impossible. There was no way to get a car 
or truck onto the property. She saw a cloud of black 
smoke drift upward above the trees and begin to 
dissipate in the light breeze. 

Panic seized Debbie's heart. Fire! Something was on 
fire over there! 

She ran, screaming for Robby. 

Robby and Mike were in Robby's room. Each was working 
on an AMT plastic model, and each was bent over, 
carefully and intently painting very small parts with 
tiny brushes. Debbie's screams electrified both boys, 
whose hands jerked, causing paint to smudge off onto 
upholstery, in one case, and armor plating in the 
other. She was yelling something about a fire and both 
boys jumped up and charged out of the room only to run 
head on into Debbie. She slammed into Mike, who had 
been closer to the door, and both landed in a heap on 
the floor while Robby screamed for information. 

Debbie was crying by now and her sobs made it difficult 
to understand her. They heard "Fire... Smoke... and Our 
place", but couldn't make any sense of it. Then she 
pointed toward the Nettleton mansion and Robby paled. 
He ran outside and stopped to stare at the forest next 
door. He heard the same motor noises, but saw no smoke. 
Debbie and Mike skidded to a stop behind him. 

"Where?" asked Robby. "I don't see any fire." 

Debbie, who had expected to see walls of flame and a 
tower of smoke, stopped crying when she saw only what 
the others could see... basically nothing. 

"I saw smoke!" she said. "From my window upstairs." 

"What's that noise?" asked Mike. "It sounds like a tank 
or something." 

Robby started for the place in the fence where he and 
his sister, in the past, had almost walked through to 
get on the property, but now had to squeeze through. 
Then he remembered Mike and his habit of keeping the 
secret was so strong that he stopped. The fence led 
down to the street and turned a corner to run almost a 
block to the big iron gates. 

"Come on." he yelled, and took off running for the 
corner of the fence. 

Minutes later the three youths stopped and stared. In 
all their lives those massive wrought iron gates had 
always been closed, with a heavy black chain and a huge 
old padlock with the key hole on the front of it 
keeping them that way. 

But now the gates had been flung wide, the chain lying 
on the ground with the old padlock, now lying broken, 
lying forlornly beside it. A big flatbed truck and 
trailer were parked on the street, with heavy ramps 
leading down from the trailer. Where there had only 
been a choked track through the forest behind the 
gates, there was now an eight foot wide swath of 
destruction, making a flat, open expanse to drive on. 
There were tread marks in the exposed topsoil. 

Without a thought the three ran up the newly cleared 
track. A hundred yards later the motor noise was loud 
and the teens slowed, and left the cleared track to 
enter the woods. They lurked from tree to tree until at 
last they could see what had happened. 

There was a big yellow bulldozer pushing a huge pile of 
trees and shrubs, that HAD been growing in the old 
driveway, but were now a mangled collection of 
destroyed vegetation. Other than the man driving the 
bulldozer, only one other person was visible. 

He looked at first like what all three kids thought a 
hermit would look like. He had long, raggedy black 
hair, with a wild unkempt beard that was at least a 
foot long. He was wearing a black overcoat, regardless 
of the fact that it was eighty-five degrees outside. 
His arms were gastrulating, guiding the man on the 
bulldozer... showing him where to push the big pile of 
cleared plants. As it moved the bulldozer sent a huge 
plume of black smoke up into the air out of it's 
smokestack. Debbie recognized it immediately as what 
she'd seen before. 

Her relief at finding there was no fire though, was 
completely overcome by finding strangers on the 
property... HER property... her SECRET property. She 
stood up and moved from behind the tree she had been 
hiding behind and started marching toward the scene of 
destruction. 

Robby saw her and intuited what she was going to try to 
do. But his mind reasoned that, without knowing who the 
crazy looking man was, all that would probably happen 
was that Debbie would get in trouble. He lunged forward 
and grasped her slim waist, pulling her behind a huge 
old oak tree. She struggled against him, her yells 
overcome by the noise of the bulldozer as it strained 
to push the huge pile of debris a little further. In 
the end he had to put his arms all the way around her. 
His hands inadvertently were filled with her breasts as 
she strained to get away from him. 

Mike looked on in astonishment as his two friends 
struggled. What was Robby doing grabbing Debbie's 
breasts? He had the flash of a thought that he wished 
HE could be doing that. Debbie was a good looking chick 
and he'd tried to get her to go out with him lots of 
times, but she didn't go on dates. Neither did Robby. 

Now Robby was yelling in her ear and she finally 
stopped struggling. Her hands came to his and dragged 
them off her breasts. Then she turned around and hugged 
her brother, burying her face in his chest. Mike could 
tell she was sobbing, but he couldn't figure out 
whether it had to do with her breasts, or what was 
going on that short distance away. 

The motor of the bulldozer suddenly went quiet... so 
quiet that it seemed to the kids as if they had gone 
deaf. All three held their breath, Debbie less 
successfully as she gasped a sob now and again. The 
driver was getting down and his feet made noises on the 
metal parts of the bulldozer. The sounds were so clear 
that the kids suddenly thought any sound they made 
would be clearly heard by the two men. 

The hermit yelled, as if the motor was still running. 

"That's fine for now. I can get a truck in here at 
least. There'll be more work later, but I have to make 
plans." 

He walked over to meet the driver, digging in the 
pockets of his overcoat. They saw him pull out a wad of 
money that would choke a horse and he peeled bills off 
of it, handing them to the driver. 

In a softer, but clearly audible voice, the hermit said 
"I thank you, sir, for your prompt service. I assume 
cash will be sufficient?" 

"Cash is right fine, mister Smith. And I appreciate the 
bonus. I can use it. Running one of these beasts is 
right costly. But they sure do short work of things. 
When I was a boy we'd have had to do all that with 
horses and it would have taken a week. But for your 
bonus it wouldn't have hardly been worth taking her off 
the truck." 

Mister Smith smiled through his thick brush of fur and 
waved. "I'll get the gate." 

With that the driver got back on his iron beast and it 
roared to life, the blade lifting like some monstrous 
guillotine, ready to destroy something else. 

Debbie flinched. She had been darting looks at the 
house, and the pile of debris, and the hermit, trying 
to assess what all this meant. The noise of the 
bulldozer unnerved her. She saw with her own eyes what 
it could do. She feared at first that he was just going 
to make a long sweep back to the gate, destroying more 
of their precious magical forest, but the thing, with a 
groan of metal and the screaming of the motor, making 
huge clouds of sooty black smoke, spun as if it were 
light as a feather and lumbered off back down the 
smooth track it had made. With the blade raised it 
moved much faster than it had before. 

The hermit stared at the pile of brush and trees and 
gave a little shake of his head. Then he turned and 
just looked at the mansion, hands on his hips, staring, 
as if he could see something the others could not. The 
noise of the bulldozer got more and more distant and 
then there was a grinding noise made by the treads on 
the big metal ramps leading up to the long, low 
trailer. The noise cut off and it was quiet as a tomb 
again. 

The three teens stood, stock still, watching the 
stranger watching the house. 

After what seemed like an interminable time, there was 
the sound of a truck motor starting, revving up and 
pulling away. Mister Smith turned his head toward the 
newly cleared driveway and then turned his body and 
began walking down to the gate. 

Silent shadows flicked from tree to tree... three 
shadows... as the teens cut through the forest on a 
soft carpet of dead, moist leaves. One of them stepped 
on a branch that cracked like a gunshot to their ears 
and the other two shot dark looks, raising fingers to 
their lips. They crept on, arriving just in time to see 
mister Smith leaned against the one open half of the 
gate, pushing with all his strength to close it. 

"Gonna have to get some oil on these hinges." he 
muttered. 

He moved inside and pulled, getting the two halves 
closed as much as he could. Then, digging into another 
pocket of that strange greatcoat, he pulled a shiny new 
lock from it. Bending he gathered up the old chain and 
draped it through the iron bars of the gate, pulling on 
the loose ends until the gate closed even more. He 
fumbled with the ends and then stood back. The new lock 
was securely fastened. He nodded, turned on his heel, 
and began trudging back up the drive toward the manor. 

The three kids looked at each other, staring open 
mouthed. 

They were locked in. 

Mike started to say something, but Robby shushed him 
quietly. He held up a hand, standing still, his head 
swiveling, watching the stranger until the number of 
trees between watcher and watched got so numerous that 
they could only catch glimpses of movement. Robby 
waited longer and then finally dropped his hand. He 
turned to his sister and friend and beckoned them 
toward him. 

"What are we gonna do?" whispered Mike anxiously. He 
looked up at the sharp spikes that topped each upright 
iron bar in the fence that, as far as he knew, 
completely surrounded the property. The bars were only 
six inches apart. There was no way to go through, or 
over the fence. 

"We know a way out." whispered Robby. Debbie shot him a 
look but he shook his head. "We used to play in the 
woods. Follow me." 

He took them along the fence, back toward the corner 
they'd run around... not right by the fence, but ten or 
fifteen yards inside the undergrowth, as if he were 
afraid someone outside the fence might see them. To his 
credit he made it look as if he were searching for 
something, though he knew exactly where the wide spot 
in the bars was. It took them fifteen minutes to circle 
the mansion. When they got there it was obvious that 
there was a trail leading from the fence toward the 
house. 

"Look!" said Mike. "Somebody's been using this!" 

"Game trail." said Robby confidently. "You know, 
rabbits... deer... that kind of thing." 

There WERE deer in these parts, though none of the 
teens had ever seen one that hadn't been shot by a 
hunter and hung up to butcher. Mike nodded. His primary 
concern was getting out. There was no way he wanted to 
go knock on the door and face mister Smith to get that 
gate unlocked. He saw the gap in the fence. Someone had 
gone to great lengths with some kind of heavy force to 
bend the bars apart. What none of them knew was that 
this was the entrance point that kidnappers had used 
decades before to gain entry onto the property. 

That wouldn't have mattered anyway. Now all three 
youths squeezed between the bars. As soon as they were 
out all three ran like the wind toward Debbie and 
Robby's house. 

They were out of breath when they arrived, pounding 
through the door and into the kitchen, where they 
stood, poised for further flight for some reason. 
Debbie had a wild look in her eyes. Her hair, which had 
been in a pony tail, had come partly undone, perhaps 
from brushing a tree branch, and her hair flew off in 
several directions. Her heaving chest caught Mike's 
attention. He could see the dents in her shirt that he 
knew were made by nipples. 

"What was THAT all about?" he asked, breathlessly. 

"I don't know." said Robby, sitting down. Then he stood 
up again and went to the fridge, pulling out bottles of 
Royal Crown Cola for them all. He couldn't find an 
opener, digging through the junk drawer under the 
counter. Debbie took hers and dug the edge of the 
serrated cap into the aluminum strip that went along 
the edge of the counter. She raised it fractionally and 
then jerked downward. The cap sailed and she tipped the 
bottle up, drinking thirstily. 

"You know mom doesn't like that." chided Robby. "It 
marks up the aluminum." 

Debbie let the bottle fall back, half empty. She let 
out a long burp and wiped her mouth with her forearm. 
"That's not important right now." she said edgily. "We 
have to stop that man." 

"Why?" asked Mike, trying to do the same thing he'd 
seen Debbie do, but unable to make it work. "Maybe he 
bought the place." 

Debbie jerked the bottle from his hands and opened it 
for him expertly on the edge of the counter, like she 
had her own. She handed it back to him. 

"He CAN'T buy the manor." she unconsciously slipped 
into her common name for the Nettleton Mansion. 

Mike took a gulp of pop and tried to burp. It was a 
short one and he looked disgusted. "Why not? If he's 
crazy enough and has the money he can do what he 
wants." 

Debbie was about to hotly exclaim that he couldn't buy 
the place because it was HERS!, but Robby shot her a 
look that made her mouth snap shut. 

"He doesn't look like he has that kind of money." said 
Robby hurriedly. 

"He sure pulled a bundle out of that coat." insisted 
Mike. "And he paid that guy on that bulldozer. Maybe 
he's some rich crazy guy or something. He'd have to be 
crazy to buy that place. That's for sure." He went back 
to trying to work up a respectable belch. 

"We have to tell Mom!" said Debbie urgently. "She'll 
know what to do." 

"Why do you have to do anything?" insisted Mike. "Who 
cares?" He took another swig of RC Cola. "I can't wait 
to tell my parents." he said, exhibiting just who he 
thought WOULD care. 

"Yeah" said Robby. "Go home and tell your parents. I 
need to... ah mow the lawn anyway."

Debbie could tell that her brother was trying to get 
rid of his friend, which was fine with her, because 
this was an emergency and they needed to DO something. 
Mike, not having any of the urgency that was seething 
beneath the surface of both twins, kept trying to work 
up a burp. His eyes fell to Debbie's chest again.

"Hey, I just remembered something." he said.

The other two looked at him anxiously.

"When we were out there, watching them, and you tried 
to go do something..." he addressed Debbie. "and Rob 
stopped you? Remember?"

She nodded, wishing he'd just leave so she and her 
brother could discuss what to do.

"Rob touched your titties." announced Mike. 

"No he didn't." she said hotly.

"Yes he did! He had his hands all over your titties." 
insisted Mike.

"What's your point Mike?" demanded Debbie.

"Well I was wondering if maybe you'd let me touch them 
too." Mike had known the twins for as long as he could 
remember, and he'd spent hours playing baseball with 
them, or riding bikes or playing Monopoly. He'd always 
accepted Debbie as just another friend... not a girl. 
It was only recently that he'd noticed her as a girl.

"What kind of pervert are you?" Debbie leaned in close 
to him.

"I'm not a pervert!" yelped Mike. "HE did it! So why 
can't I?"

"Mike, buddy, I didn't grab her boobs on purpose, you 
idiot." said Robby. "I was just trying to keep her from 
running in front of that bulldozer. It was an 
accident."

"Oh." said Mike with obvious disappointment, looking 
down. He then looked back up, hope back in his eyes. 
"What did it feel like? Were they soft?"

"You really ARE a pervert!" squealed Debbie.

"No I'm NOT!" defended Mike. "Guys do that all the 
time. If you like a girl you're SUPPOSED to touch her 
titties."

"So you like me?" asked Debbie, not at all sure how she 
felt about that possibility. She had too many things on 
her mind right now to think about that.

"No!" blurted Mike. "I mean you know... not like that. 
I think you're cool and everything. I just never got to 
touch a girls titties before."

Debbie folded her arms under the titties being 
discussed, framing them nicely, though that wasn't her 
intent.

"Well you're not going to be feeling mine any time 
soon. I can't believe you Mike Sumner! I should tell 
your mother what you just asked."

Mike reacted just like her brother would have, 
groveling and begging and promising anything if she'd 
refrain from getting him in trouble. It was a lesson 
Debbie would remember. Up to that point the only male 
she had any real sway over was her brother. At least in 
terms of using extortion and blackmail to control a 
boy. But she took it easy on him. All she really wanted 
right then was for him to go home so she could talk to 
Robby about the manor. So she told him to go home and 
think about what he'd done, about how he'd hurt her 
feelings. She even worked up a tear and managed to look 
sad and confused about how a friend could sink so low. 

Mike escaped while the escaping was good.

Once he was gone Debbie's demeanor changed instantly 
from a weepy teenage girl to a young woman deadly 
serious about attacking a real problem.

"What are we gonna do Robby?" she asked him worriedly.

"I don't know." he said, just as worriedly.

"We could call the police." she suggested.

"If he hired somebody to take a big machine like that 
in there he's not trying to hide anything." reasoned 
Robby. "I mean he's not trespassing or anything."

"What's he DOING there?!" cried Debbie. "That's OUR 
place Robby! He can't just take it away from us! That's 
not FAIR!"

"What about our stuff?" asked Robby. 

Over the years they'd taken small personal items to the 
house. The nest that had been in the root cellar had 
been moved to one of the bedrooms that they adopted as 
their own. There wasn't a lot other than a few smuggled 
pillows and one blanket. 

But what Robby was talking about was their treasure 
trove. An old hand-made wooden jewelry box had been 
found and, while it contained nothing of real value 
that they could see, they had made it into the place 
they put all the treasures they DID find in their 
explorations. The two coins were there, along with a 
heavy salt shaker that they thought was made of silver. 
There was a polished comb of bone, intricately carved, 
that Debbie used to pin up her hair when they played 
dress-up in the past. And, their prize possession, a 
gold pocket watch they'd found stuffed into a hole in 
the mattress of what appeared to have been a woman's 
bedroom. The watch still worked and it was beautiful.

"We have to go GET it!" whispered Debbie, even though 
they were the only two people in the house.

"We can't do that. He'll catch us." whispered back 
Robby.

"We'll wait ‘til he leaves and then get it." reasoned 
Debbie.

"He locked that gate. What if he's NOT leaving?" 
reasoned Robby.

"He HAS to leave sometime." said Debbie firmly.

In the end, they couldn't think of anything to do, and 
each subsided to think while they waited for their 
mother to get home. Both instinctively believed that 
she would somehow know something that would somehow 
make everything OK again.

Indecision reigned for half an hour as Debbie and Robby 
tried to think of something to do. Debbie was probably 
more upset about the changes in their world than Robby, 
until she pointed out that they no longer had a place 
to go to... play. As that sunk in Robby got more and 
more upset until he was as frantic as Debbie. 

"I'll go down to the bank and talk to Mom." he 
suggested. "You stay here and watch the house." They 
both knew he meant the mansion, and not their own 
house. 

For lack of a better plan, Debbie agreed and, after 
Robby pounded out of the front door, she stood in her 
window and stared at the dunce cap roof of the tower 
next door. 

Perhaps it was because Debbie had always been self 
confident, afraid of very little, that she decided she 
needed to watch the new goings-on from closer. It 
wasn't a conscious decision that led her back to the 
fence and their "private entrance", and through the 
woods to the rear of the carriage house. But that's 
where she found herself, peering through a tangle of 
brush at the back of the mansion. There wasn't, of 
course, much to see. The house sat there, like it 
always had, lonely looking, run down and forlorn. 

She had settled into a comfortable squat, holding on to 
a branch to keep her balance, when sudden movement at 
the back door of the house caught her eye. She was 
suddenly struck by the fact that the boards that had 
kept that entrance from being used were gone, and the 
door had opened. 

But the man who came out of that door and began walking 
directly toward her was not the hermit she had seen 
before. This man was younger, slimmer, without the 
trench coat. And his face was smooth shaven, with a 
thatch of brown hair above it... not the dark and 
ominous beard and black hair of the hermit. He was 
wearing shorts and a T shirt that was dark with sweat 
around the neck and armpits. The man looked gray and 
she realized he was covered with dust. 

About the same time it registered in her brain that he 
was walking toward her hiding place. 

Panic seized her and she froze, not breathing as the 
man stalked closer. Then he veered to his right and 
approached the little wooden shack that sat alone in 
what had been the far reaches of the back yard. The 
kids had examined that little shack, puzzled at first 
when all they found inside was a low shelf, like a 
floor mounted cabinet, with a round smooth-edged hole 
cut in the top, and a dark, empty pit under it. Then 
Robby remembered seeing something like this at their 
grandfather's farm when they were little. It was an 
outhouse. Once that had been determined, they had 
forgotten all about the little building. If they needed 
to use the bathroom they simply went home. 

But this man went to the shack, now leaning a bit 
because of the growth of a big sycamore tree that had 
grown up right next to it. He went inside and the door 
slammed shut. 

Debbie moved then, getting further behind the bush she 
was hiding behind. She was amazed to hear singing 
coming from the outhouse, snatches of an old rock and 
roll tune from the fifties. He stayed in there for what 
seemed a long time to her, and she jumped as the door 
banged open and the man came out, zipping up his 
shorts. He was still mumbling the words to the song, 
and he even broke into a dance of sorts as he trudged 
along the path that led to the structure. When he got 
to the back door of the mansion he turned around and 
his head swiveled as he surveyed the carriage house and 
the woods around it. With a shake of his head he turned 
on his heel and re-entered the house, slamming the door 
closed behind him. 

It was the normality of his actions that troubled 
Debbie the most. He acted like he had every right in 
the world to be in the house... to have removed the 
barrier to entry... to use the outhouse. On impulse 
Debbie backed out of her hiding place and retreated 
deeper into the woods. She then began circling the 
mansion, taking special care to see if there were any 
other changes that had been made. With a sinking heart 
she noted that the front door was also uncovered, as 
were the windows at the front of the house. It looked 
different somehow, more like a house, though still 
disheveled and morose in appearance. Some of the 
windows didn't look as grimy and fly-specked as she 
remembered them. 

It looked like the man... or men... were planning to 
stay. 

But there were still so many questions. Who was this 
new man? Where was the hermit, and who was HE? Why had 
they come to ruin things? What were they doing in the 
house? Were THEY searching for treasure? Debbie thought 
of her and Robby's little stash of recovered valuables. 
It was lying in plain sight in the bedroom they'd 
decided was "their" bedroom, which had once belonged to 
a little girl. Had these strangers found that stash? 

It was the desire to get answers to these questions 
that drove Debbie to the root cellar, and through the 
tunnel, to attempt to open the secret door as quietly 
as she could. It made a horrible racket, the hinges 
squeaking as she slowly pulled it open. It had never 
made that much noise in the past... had it? 

She didn't have a candle... hadn't thought to bring 
one... but by now she knew the secret passage like the 
back of her hand and didn't really need a light. 

Slowly, taking extra care to step quietly, she crept up 
the stairs, wincing at each creak her footfalls made. 
The first peep hole gave her a view of the kitchen, but 
no one was there. Then she tried the dining room, also 
without success. As she approached the upper part of 
the house she began to hear faint noises. She struck 
pay dirt in the little boy's bedroom. The man... the 
second man... was in that room. She peered through the 
peep hole and watched as he moved a broom along the 
floor. She wondered inanely why he wasn't using a 
vacuum cleaner and then remembered there was no 
electricity. The bed had been stripped and the decayed 
mattress was standing, half leaning against one wall as 
it tried to settle into a lump. What little furniture 
was in the room had all been shoved to line one wall, 
leaving the floor open for the man to sweep. He was 
humming. 

She was closer to him now and could examine him better. 
She judged his age to be about that of her mother's. He 
was deeply tanned and had obviously come from someplace 
where he was in the sun a lot. His face was strong-
jawed and lined, as if he had spent a lot of time in 
the weather. He wasn't skinny, but there wasn't an 
ounce of fat on him either. His leg and arm muscles 
were well defined. He looked like he was in good shape 
and used to working hard. His hair looked wild and 
unkempt, but only in the sense that it looked like he'd 
lost his comb or something. He needed a haircut, or her 
mother would think he needed one anyway. 

Debbie realized her muscles were cramped. She had been 
staring through the holes at the man for a long time 
and hadn't moved. She backed up and then had a frantic 
thought that her brother must be back by now and 
wondering where she was. She turned and made her way 
back down to the root cellar, trying to be quiet, and 
astonished at how much noise her passage made. Once she 
had stuck her head up out of the entrance to the cellar 
and made sure the coast was clear, she ran like a deer, 
dodging between trees and bushes, squeezing through the 
fence and arriving at her house panting and sweating. 
She slammed through the back door calling her brother's 
name, but got no answer. 

The phone rang suddenly on the wall right by her 
shoulder and she jumped. 

"HELLO!" she shouted into the handset, and then 
relaxed, thinking how silly she was acting. 

"Honey?" came her mother's voice. "Are you OK?" 

Debbie sighed. "Yes Mom, I just had to run to get the 
phone." 

"Oh" said a confused Ramona Franklin. "It only rang 
once." 

"Um..." mumbled Debbie, trying to think of something to 
say. "It rang a whole bunch of times here." she lied. 

"Well, never mind. Honey, Robby was here. Don't do 
anything! Do you hear me? Don't worry about anything. 
I'll explain it when I get home." 

"Mom!" complained Debbie. "What's going on?" 

"I'll explain when I get home. Don't worry about it, 
OK? Don't you go over there and bother that man. Do you 
understand me Debbie?" 

Her mom's voice held an anxious concern, as if there 
were something terrible going on and she was afraid. It 
didn't help things at all. 

Debbie's take-charge attitude bubbled up. "Mommy I want 
to know what's going on!" she pleaded. "Who is that 
man? What's he doing over there?" She almost told her 
mother what changes had been made to the place and then 
remembered she wasn't supposed to know anything about 
the mansion. 

"Don't be scared, honey." said her mother's voice in 
her ear. "I'll explain everything when I get home. I 
have to get back to work. I'll see you in a few hours. 
Bye bye." 

The phone went dead and Debbie moved the handset to 
where she could look at it, like she could will her 
mother to come back on the line and answer her 
questions. She slumped as she hung it up and leaned 
against the wall. She was still breathing heavily. 

Debbie gave out a little shriek as Robby barged in the 
back door and almost ran into his sister. His hands 
gripped her forearms. He had ridden his bike to the 
bank and was as out of breath as she was. They stared 
at each other for a few seconds, trying to decide what 
to do or say. 

"Mom said not to worry!" Robby barked as Debbie said "I 
went over there!" at the same time. 

Then there were the inevitable "What?!"s as they got 
control of themselves and deciphered what each had 
said. 

Debbie took center stage, though, as Robby stared at 
her astonished that she'd gone over there to spy by 
herself. As she described what she saw he got more and 
more upset. 

"ANYTHING could have happened!" he shouted, getting red 
in the face. "You could have gotten CAUGHT! He might 
have HURT you!" He was shaking, still gripping her 
forearms, his knuckles white, his fingers digging deep 
into her muscles. 

She shook him off "YOU'RE the one hurting me!" she 
yelled, trying to shake free of his grasp. "Let GO of 
me!" 

His grip relaxed suddenly and she fell backward, 
against the wall. She rubbed first one and then the 
other forearm. 

"I didn't get caught!" she said, her voice forced. 

Robby felt weak suddenly. He was thinking about the 
amorphous man catching his sister. His imagination 
showed him slaps, her blouse tearing, her breasts 
exposed to the stranger... He shook his head to stop 
himself from thinking more. 

He gripped her hands this time, more gently. "But you 
COULD have gotten caught. Deb he might have done things 
to you." he whined. "I couldn't live without you." 

Debbie felt a flush of warmth in her belly at his 
words. Her anger melted. She felt an overflowing gush 
of love for her twin brother. 

She slammed against him, her arms going around him as 
he hugged her back instinctively. Her grip was 
fierce... possessive. 

"You're so sweet." she mumbled into his chest. 

All their surprise... their fear... their 
anxiousness... all the unanswered questions and the 
tension that went along with everything that had 
happened... it all burst forth in each of them in that 
embrace. 

This... this embrace... this intimacy, was something 
they DID understand... something that made them feel 
safe and warm. All the emotions they felt were suddenly 
channeled toward that intimacy and the embrace became 
sexual. 

They both felt each other's bodies pressed against the 
other. Debbie's face came up and her lips sought her 
brother's. It was a crushing kiss, a bruising kiss, a 
kiss filled with urgency to do something they both were 
comfortable with. 

They'd never done anything sexual at home together. It 
was an unwritten, almost unacknowledged rule. What they 
shared was reserved for the manor, that little girl's 
bedroom, with the ghosts looking on fondly as something 
loving was done in the house that had so many terrible 
memories staining it's old walls. 

But the urge was so strong that that prohibition was 
blown away as if by a tornado. Still kissing, still 
hugging, they fumbled with each other's clothing, he 
unbuttoning her blouse and she tugging at the fastening 
of his shorts. His hands roamed across her breasts, his 
palms scraping her sensitive nipples as her hand snaked 
into his shorts to grip his suddenly stiff prick. The 
strangeness of their contact - they had never touched 
each other before... only watching the other as they 
sated their passions - that strangeness didn't seem odd 
at all. Too many other strange things had happened and 
what they wanted now was something to make them feel 
good, and happy. 

Standing in the hallway by the kitchen, though, wasn't 
what Debbie wanted. She wanted to be naked... on a bed. 
She wanted an orgasm naked and on a bed, and she pulled 
him, gasping and panting to the short stairway that led 
to her bedroom. He held her hand with one hand and held 
his shorts up with the other as he staggered along 
behind her. 

No words were necessary and they both stripped out of 
their clothes efficiently and quietly. He got naked 
first and stood there, his prick pointing at her like 
an accusing finger. As soon as she dropped her panties 
she melted against him again, though, that hard cock 
pressing into her abdomen. She shivered, even though 
both were sweating still, from their exertions and 
excitement. 

Since masturbation was what they knew, they gravitated 
naturally toward that as Debbie pulled him to the bed 
and gasped "Touch me." 

They ended up lying side by side, kissing each other 
with long, breath-stealing kisses as his fingers 
fumbled at first between her legs. She raised one leg 
and draped it on top of his to give him room. Her hand 
gripped his cock and slid sensuously along it's length. 
Then, because they had watched each other dozens of 
times, their hands took on familiar rhythms. Her stroke 
was the same speed he used when he started, and his two 
fingers found her electrifying nubbin and began 
circling it, scraping sideways across it occasionally. 
Almost naturally, as she speeded up and his prick began 
to weep its sticky essence, his fingers moved in faster 
circles. She moaned as she felt her orgasm within a 
hair's breadth away and jerked him even faster. 

"Oh Robby" she gasped. "Pinch it for me Robby." 

His slippery fingertips found the bump and he tried to 
grasp it, slipping off again and again. But that 
squeezing mashed it delightfully and she tumbled into 
an orgasm harder than any she'd brought on herself. Her 
tenseness, her whining voice as she made nonsense 
sounds, and her hand, still whaling on his prick, 
brought Robby off and his cock delivered it's heavy 
load between them, getting on their stomachs, her 
breasts and her hand and arm as she kept pulling. 

"Uhhh....Uhhhh...Ahhhhh" groaned Robby as his seed 
erupted satisfyingly. Her hand left his prick to grab 
his own hand, stopping him from abusing her clitty any 
longer. It was too sensitive now and she didn't need 
any more stimulation. She sagged, her face rolling into 
his chest as her hand came to the mess between them and 
spread its warm mass up to her breasts and over each 
nipple.
 
"Oh Robby" she sighed. 

There was no shame or remorse. What they had shared was 
something priceless, to be remembered and savored many 
nights when they weren't together. 

It had also drained them of their anxiety and worry. 

"I made a mess." said Robby, rolling away from her. 

"I don't care." she said, still stroking her breasts 
and belly with her spunk-covered hand. "We can clean it 
up before Mom gets home." 

"I really liked that Deb." he sighed. 

"Me too." she sighed back. "Why didn't we think about 
doing that before this?" 

"I don't know." he said. He rolled back toward her for 
a kiss, disregarding the wet between them. It was worth 
it to taste her lips again. 

Eventually his spend cooled, and got uncomfortable for 
both of them. They rolled apart and bounced up off the 
bed, suddenly energized by the task of getting the 
bedspread into the washing machine and using warm wash 
clothes to clean each other up. Robby paid special 
attention to the fluff of hair between Debbie's legs 
and she laughed and pushed him away. 

"Stop!" she giggled. "You'll get me going again." 

"So?" he asked. 

"Mom will be home soon." she chided. "I don't think 
she'd approve." 

"You got that right." he sighed. "Is what we do wrong 
Deb?" 

"I don’t' think so." she said firmly. "It feels too 
good to be something bad." 

"What are we going to do now?" he asked. They both knew 
he was talking about the loss of their private place. 

"I don't know. Mom said she could explain it. All we 
can do is wait and see what she says." Debbie sounded 
sad. 


Chapter Three
=============

Ramona Franklin's emotions were almost at as high a 
peak as her childrens' had been as she drove home from 
the bank. She'd known this day might come. She'd 
dreamed that this day might come. But another part of 
her had dreaded this day coming. It was all tied up 
with her past, a past she'd tried to leave behind her 
like a bad dream. She'd gone to college, looking for 
and hoping to find a man to share her life with so that 
her life could be normal. Up to that point in time her 
life had been anything but normal. 

Ramona HAD found a man, whom she had fallen in love 
with, and who had presented her with two beautiful, 
normal, happy children. That he had been someone she 
knew long before she ever stepped upon a college campus 
was as much a surprise to her as it was to him. They 
had gone to High School together, but had traveled in 
different social circles. She tried to fade into the 
background and he was involved in every extra 
curricular activity he could fit into his schedule. She 
had gone home to study each day, doing extra work on 
the weekends, while he dated all the popular girls. 

When they bumped into each other at a Freshman mixer at 
Welsley College, she was amazed to see him. It was an 
exclusive school, so small that most people didn't even 
know it existed. He had been from a blue collar family, 
with limited means. And he had smiled at her. 

"Hey, is it a small world or what?" he said, walking up 
to her. 

She hadn't thought he'd recognize her. "I didn't think 
you'd even know who I am." she replied. 

"Are you kidding? It's great to see a familiar face. I 
thought I was going to be all alone here." he said. 

Their chat had turned into a pledge to study together. 
He had obtained an academic scholarship, and needed to 
keep high marks to maintain it. He was also the first 
person in his family to go to college, so a lot of 
hopes were riding on him. His manner was so easygoing 
that Ramona had pushed away her fear of letting someone 
close to her. 

By the time they had finished the first semester they 
were not only study mates, but they were lovers. He 
never questioned why she had no virginity to make their 
first time uncomfortable, or that she seemed to know 
what to do, perhaps even more than he did. She never 
talked about her past, and he never questioned her 
about it, seeming to know that she didn't want to that 
subject broached. 

They married while they were seniors, when it became 
apparent she was going to have his baby, despite the 
precautions they had taken. Both welcomed the marriage 
and the baby. That was what young people were supposed 
to do. His family welcomed her into their lives. She 
had no family to ask questions, and her guardian was 
happy to see her married so that he could begin to 
finalize certain arrangements and his task would be 
complete. 

When Richard had taken her back to Nettleton, to show 
her their new house, a time she should have been 
overjoyed, she was almost crushed. She couldn't believe 
it was right next to the house that inhabited her bad 
dreams, the house in which her parents had been slain, 
the house that she never wanted to see again in her 
life. Right next door to the Nettleton mansion.

Her husband didn't know, of course, because she hadn't 
told him. All he knew was that her parents were dead in 
a tragic incident. He didn't know she was Elizabeth 
Nettleton, or that, upon marriage, she would receive 
her portion of a trust fund that would make them 
wealthy beyond almost anyone's wildest dreams. He 
didn't know because Ramona didn't want the money. She 
wanted a normal life, free from her past. The irony of 
having to live next to the one place on earth she never 
wanted to see again was almost palpable, but she didn't 
say anything. She didn't want him to know. And when she 
was summoned one last time to her guradian, who handed 
her the legal letter informing her that an account had 
been established in maiden name, which she was free to 
draw upon at her will, she burned the letter, and the 
account number with it. 

Her mind drifted, against her will, to the history she 
wanted to forget.

When Ramona and her brother had first been carried out 
of the crime scene, there had been chaos for a while. 
They had been separated at first, having been placed in 
an orphanage where boys and girls were not allowed to 
mix, whether they were related or not. Most four-year-
olds don't remember much about what happened to them at 
that age, but the changes in Ramona's life were so 
tumultuous that they were imprinted in her mind 
forever.

It had taken six months for her father's will to be 
found and executed. That will had very specific 
provisions in it about who would take care of the 
children, and provided funds from the estate to do so. 
Ramona's reunion with her brother was joyous, but 
relatively short-lived. The woman her father had 
specified as guardian only had charge of them for a 
year before her tuberculosis wasted her away. The court 
then gave over their care to another family, a family 
that the judge classified as "temperate and stable" and 
which made their living by fostering children such as 
the two.

Ramona's life had been good with the woman, and her 
relationship with her brother had been close. Their new 
guardian sent them to boarding school, paid for by 
trust funds established in their father's will, but 
they saw each other rarely, in arranged formal "sitting 
room" meetings, where they were expected to drink tea 
and have light conversation. 

The house and grounds in which they had lived was also 
put into trust, to be turned over to Robert upon 
reaching his majority. Money was set aside to ensure 
that the property was maintained. Other funds were put 
into trust for the children, but conditions were 
attached. For Ramona, she would receive access to her 
trust when she married, or finished college, whichever 
came first. For Robert, his trust could not be touched 
until he graduated from a university.

Roger Nettleton had planned well, and his will had been 
very detailed and specific. But, without an advocate 
keeping a close eye on things and, people being what 
they are, things didn't always go as he had planned. 
The money was guarded by banks and the law, and though 
people tried to get at it, they failed, for the most 
part. Their new guardian didn't care about the house. 
He signed off on authorizations for it's upkeep, but 
didn't actually check to see what was happening. Those 
funds were skimmed and pocketed most of the time. 

The boarding school presented inflated bills and 
expenses associated with the Nettleton children, and 
the finite amount of money legally set aside for that 
purpose, that should have taken care of their education 
through High School, was depleted by the time they were 
in the eighth grade.

When their guardian couldn't find a way to extract more 
money from the estate, he was forced to take them into 
his own home, where they were, for the most part, 
unwelcome mouths to feed. The other fosterlings in the 
house had an established hierarchy of "rank". Ramona 
and Robert were at the lower end of the scale, getting 
only hand-me-downs and the last helpings of food.

Their new guardian had had some success in the past at 
getting money by having the children take his name. It 
wasn't adoption - that would have ended outside 
financial compensation - but sometimes a child's trust 
fund could be penetrated in the legal twists and turns 
of such a procedure. Ramona, in a vain effort to 
exorcise the horrors of her past, accepted that 
suggestion, adopting her middle name and the last name 
of her guardian.

Robert did not. 

While the man's dream of getting access to Ramona's 
trust failed, she was glad for her name change when 
they entered the public school system. As they went 
through school, teachers always perked up when the 
Nettleton name was called in class. No one paid any 
attention to Ramona Shanks, though, and she preferred 
it that way. People knew she lived in the same house, 
and that there was "another Nettleton child", but never 
put the two together. 

Robert, knowing the travails of bearing the Nettleton 
name, did not publicly acknowledge that Ramona was his 
sister. He protected her as best he could at "home", 
where they shared a room that was big enough for one 
child. They both tried to keep a low profile, both at 
home and at school and, for the most part, succeeded.

There was a price to pay, however, and that price was 
that the only people in the world who loved the 
Nettleton children were... each other. Their forced 
proximity at home, sleeping in the same bed well into 
puberty, and their reliance on each other for all of 
their emotional needs, led to a closeness between the 
siblings that society would have been horrified at.

Their guardian, a man with zealous religious 
convictions, was not aware of their relationship, and 
the effect that entering puberty had had on that 
relationship. He worked ceaselessly to convince Robert 
that service to mankind as a missionary was the only 
way to extinguish the evil that had hounded the 
Nettleton family in the past. He tried to convince 
Ramona of that as well, encouraging her to become a 
nun. There was, in the back of the man's mind, the 
thought that if she never married, and Robert never 
went to college, all that money would remain in the 
bank, and he might find some way to get it.

Ramona had resisted the man's brainwashing. 

Robert had not. 

He was tortured, not only by their family history, but 
by the fact that the only real joy he experienced was 
when he was in his sister's welcoming embrace, as they 
writhed naked in the dark of night, performing their 
sinful dance of lust together. The thought of receiving 
forgiveness for what he couldn't control drove him to 
follow their guardian's plan. After High School he 
joined a group of missionaries, turning his back on 
wealth. 

He hadn't told Ramona of his decision until the night 
before he was due to leave. She didn't know this was 
the last time she'd feel his weight pinning her to the 
lumpy mattress as he probed her depths with his manhood 
and she felt the warm rush of his love spewing into her 
womb. 

He gave her that one last moment of bliss before he 
turned her world on its ear once again.

Then, he disappeared overseas somewhere, being chased 
by his own demons. 

She cried bitterly for weeks after he left. Her loss 
was assuaged to some degree by the letters he sent, 
addressed to her through their guardian. 

And she responded to those letters. The letters were 
forwarded to him by the people who administrated 
whatever mission he was assigned to at the time. When 
she went to college he was able to send his letters 
directly to her, but she still had to respond by 
routing her letters through the mission center, because 
many times he could collect his mail only every six 
months or so. She told him, over the years of her new 
life, college, Richard and her children. She informed 
him her desire to keep her past secret from her new 
husband. She knew he was in Africa somewhere, after 
having been stationed in several other exotic 
locations. 

His letters grew fewer and fewer, and hers to him as 
she found love and emotional support from Richard 
replacing that of her distant brother. When she and 
Richard had moved into their new home, and she no 
longer had a private mail box in which to receive 
letters from a man her husband knew nothing about, she 
made the gut-wrenching decision to stop writing. She 
had cried about that for weeks too.

They had not communicated for the past five years. 

She had tried to ignore the unhappy place next door to 
her new home, and concentrated instead on loving her 
husband and raising her twins. She hoped that Robert 
could find some happiness too. 

Then, as if the dark miasma of her former home had 
sniffed around and found her, seeping through the iron 
fence to continue its assault on normalcy, her husband 
was killed. A truckload of paper products was too 
heavy, and the brakes of the truck failed as it came 
down the mountain side. Richard had seen what was 
happening and drove for the shoulder. The truck driver, 
thinking to avoid hitting any cars, also headed for the 
woods at the side of the road. Neither could adjust and 
Richard was killed instantly. 

Had her twins not been there... not needed her... she 
would have taken her own life. But she had to go on. 
There was only one other person she could turn to... 
her brother Robert, but the one human in the world who 
might be able to fully understand how she felt was 
beyond her reach. She didn't even know where he was any 
more. The thought of what it would take to write a 
letter, which might not even be read by him for months, 
caused her to leave pen and paper lying unused.

She got a job at the bank, ironically the same bank 
that still guarded a fortune that was hers, but which 
she still thought of as blood money. She was aware 
that, while he was involved in his missionary work, 
Robert had somehow obtained a college degree. Access to 
personal accounts gave her the information that he drew 
from his own fortune from time to time, but not in 
large amounts. He used less than the annual interest 
his account earned. She took comfort in seeing those 
small transactions, though, because that told her he 
was still alive. 

Life had eventually settled back down for Ramona. Her 
twins and her job filled her days for her, as well as 
her love of reading and quilting. She made a half dozen 
intricate, huge quilts that adorned the beds in the 
house and filled several storage containers. 

In honor of her brother's life work, she made a large 
number of plainer ones that she donated to Robert's 
missionary headquarters to be sent wherever they were 
needed. She also gave them to the Salvation Army, 
dropping them off as simple donations packed in paper 
sacks recycled from grocery shopping. A woman who 
worked at the Salvation Army center had wanted to know 
her name, but she demurred, simply saying "These are 
for whoever needs them." 

Toiling over the quilts gave her satisfaction that she 
was doing something worthwhile with the time she had 
wanted to throw away when Richard was killed. 

And she was proud of her children. They were smart, and 
strong and happy, untouched by the ugliness of their 
heritage and unearned wealth that might have corrupted 
them. She knew she'd have to dip into her unwanted 
trust fund to send them to college, but that was for a 
good cause too, and she didn't want them to have to 
scrimp and work, like she had forced herself to do in 
school. True, her tuition had been taken care of by the 
trust fund, but her living expenses she earned herself, 
never responding to letters asking how much she needed 
for such things.

She had been tempted, when, after Richard died, her 
guardian contacted her and suggested he knew worthy 
charities that could benefit from the money she wasn't 
spending, but she ignored him. He was a cold and 
loveless man, who dominated his wife mercilessly, as if 
she were chattel. His attitude toward the children 
under his care was also cold and distant. She had 
suspicions about where the money would have gone. Even 
though he had been handsomely paid for his duties under 
the court appointment that gave him dominion over the 
Nettleton children, he had made it quite clear that he 
deserved more, and they deserved nothing. 

That she didn't want her children to ever face such a 
life was a lesson she learned the hard way. Her will 
was up-to-date and even more specific than her father's 
will had been when he was murdered in his bed. 

All had been mostly serene. She found happiness in her 
children, and the things she used her time for. There 
was an emptiness in her heart since Richard had been 
taken, but that pain was less severe than others she 
could recall. 

There had been overtures from men from time to time. 
She wasn't a raving beauty, in her opinion, though many 
of those men would have disagreed. Their attention had 
appealed to the little vanity she had left in her... 
had made her feel warm and good. But the idea of 
laboring toward a relationship that was more than just 
dinner now and then, or that included passion, was 
something she avoided. There had been too much loss in 
her life to risk more. Nothing gained meant nothing 
could be lost, as far as she was concerned. That 
passion still lurked in her, she knew. She tried to 
keep a lid on that, succumbing to her infrequent sexual 
yearning only in-so-far as using her fingers to bring 
release now and again. 

She convinced herself it was enough. 

Yes, life wasn't so complicated that she couldn't enjoy 
it, all things considered. 

Until she received a registered letter, in her married 
name, addressed to her at the bank. 

It was from her brother. 

She had no idea how he had tracked her down, but he 
had. She had read it so often that its contents were 
committed to memory now: 

"Dearest Rami, 

I have done what I could to comfort the bereft wherever 
I found them. I have missed you more than I would have 
thought possible. Living among the needy has 
illuminated my own emptiness. 

I have decided to return to our house... to restore it 
to its former grandeur, and try to make of it a place 
of happiness and light. I know you want nothing to do 
with that sad place, but this is something that is 
driving me. I know not what I'll do with it once its 
darkness is expelled. I know I may not even be able to 
do that. Perhaps I'll donate it to the county as a 
museum. But I know this is something I must do. 

I want to see you again too, dearest sister. I know you 
are happy with your husband and family, and I will not 
intrude upon that happiness. Please find it in your 
heart to let me see you again when I return, if only 
briefly and in secret, and then I shall retreat again, 
leaving you to your well-deserved wonderful life. 

The image of your face in my mind has lifted me from 
despair on more occasions than I could count. I know I 
was never a good brother to you, but I have learned 
much about the world and myself in my years abroad. I'm 
not the man you knew so long ago. 

I don't know exactly when I'll be done with this 
commitment. I'll contact you when I return. 

All my love" 

His signature was simple script, spelling "Bobby" 

That had been a rough day for Ramona. Memories and 
fears had come rushing back, affecting her so much that 
another employee had become alarmed, asking if she were 
OK and offering to call for help. She had folded up the 
letter and gotten control of herself, stammering that 
everything was fine... that it was just a bit of 
unsettling news. She had thrown herself back into her 
work, concentrating on each of her customers as if they 
were the only people alive at the time. 

Later she had re-read the letter, and many times since 
then. Her emotions had undergone a roller coaster-like 
journey within her mind. She was filled with questions. 
How could Robert want to have anything to do with the 
mansion? True, he owned it, according to the provisions 
of their father's will, but how could he want to 
restore it? Could it even BE restored? What did that 
mean for her and her children, living in the shadow of 
the place? How would she feel when she saw him? What 
would she say? How would all this change her life? 

And then, there was their former relationship to think 
about. As children they had clung to each other, 
orphaned by cruel circumstance, living in a cold and 
loveless place with foster parents who cared but little 
for them. They had naturally bonded much more closely 
than most siblings ever did. That bonding, over the 
years, had led to things their guardian would have 
raged at... would have called an abomination. He had 
never known what they did together. Those times were 
the few memories Ramona had that were joyous and happy. 
She loved her brother and he loved her, and nothing 
could take that love away. There was bitterness there 
too, though, for the fact that their love could not be 
consummated publicly. Society forbade that. Never mind 
thousands of years of historical precedence. Never mind 
that their love was true and pure. Never mind that they 
could be happy together. That was not to be... not if 
the powers of "propriety" had anything to say about it. 

And, knowing that, Robert had foresworn their love and 
separated from her, tearing her heart from her chest. 
Once again, the only love they had known was ripped 
from them by events beyond their control, leaving 
wounded, bleeding survivors to make their way in that 
hostile world as best they could. 

And now... that wound would be reopened. Robert made it 
clear that he didn't intend to interrupt her life, but 
he didn't know of the changes that had taken place 
since her last letter to him. He made it clear that 
their former relationship was a thing of the past, and 
that he didn't intend to resume it. But Ramona's 
feelings on that point weren't so clear.

All in all, Ramona was as upset about the "stranger" 
who had opened the gates of the Nettleton Mansion after 
all these years as her children were. Ironically, their 
fears were remarkably similar. Their lives had been 
turned topsy-turvy, and the result was an emotional 
storm of doubt, fear, and anguish over forbidden love. 

She pulled into her driveway, stopped the car, and laid 
her head gently against the steering wheel as she wept 
quietly. 

Ten minutes later, providence preventing her children 
from realizing she was home already, the woman who 
entered the Franklin household was a completely 
different woman. 

"I'm home." she sang, expecting and getting an excited 
welcome from her children. 

"Thank GOODNESS you're home!" Debbie said excitedly, 
skipping into the living room, where her mother was 
dropping her purse and keys on the sideboard where she 
kept them. 

Ramona held up her hands. "Be patient a little longer. 
We're having a visitor for dinner tonight. All will be 
explained." 

"But Mahhhhhm" came the drawn out protest. "You HAVE to 
tell us what's going on!" 

Ramona, had she stopped to think about it, would have 
recognized that her daughter's response to the current 
"crisis" was out of proportion to what it should have 
been. As far as Ramona knew, her children lived next 
door to, but had no interaction with, the sad property 
next door. To them, it should have just been a 
moldering old house with a mysterious past, quietly 
rotting away in the midst of an untended forest of 
unruly vegetation. 

But her own emotional state prevented her from 
recognizing that her children were MUCH too interested 
in her old home. She had never told them about her 
past. When they asked about grandparents she simply 
reported them dead and buried long ago. She had never 
mentioned the uncle they didn't know they had, or the 
fact that Nettleton blood flowed in their veins. She 
assumed they were curious about who had re-opened the 
Nettleton place in the same manner as the rest of the 
town would be when they learned of it. The gossip would 
fly... no doubt about that. 

And so, lacking a plan to inform her children of 
everything she had omitted from their family history, 
she had decided just to let Robert explain it. 
Thankfully, he had called her at the bank when he got 
to town and began hiring contractors. 

Just hearing his voice had made her so weak she almost 
couldn't have a conversation with him. He'd wanted to 
see her, but at that time she couldn't trust herself to 
be able to stand, let alone conduct civilized verbal 
discourse. Instead of trying to bring him up to date, 
she had just invited him to dinner. She anchored her 
hopes for rational behavior in the familiarity of 
preparing a meal in her own house, with her children 
nearby. There would be hours in which they could figure 
out what to do and how to explain all this to the 
twins.

She hoped it would work. She had no earthly idea 
whether it would or not, but she hoped events would 
take care of themselves and that she wouldn't burst 
into tears or have a complete breakdown. 

Now, though, she faced her daughter, who was by then 
backed up by her son. "I have to fix dinner. Our guest 
will be here at seven. In the mean time you two need to 
pick up the house. It's a pigsty and I won't have 
guests in our home with it looking like this." 

There were moans of discontent, but she insisted on 
keeping to her "plan" as it were. 

Part of the moans were because the house was already 
spotless. Oh, there was the odd magazine lying here, 
and an empty glass sitting there, but Ramona kept a 
trim ship all the time, and had required her children 
to do the same. In truth that was one reason they were 
attracted to the manor. There was no hope of cleaning 
that place up and, while there, they could relax and be 
as comfortable as they wanted to, leaving things lay 
wherever they wanted to. Their mother's training had 
sunk in, though, and they had, unthinkingly, slowly 
straightened and dusted things, at least in a few 
rooms, and they usually removed any trash they 
generated from food waste they brought into the place. 

So, while they went through the fruitless motions of 
"cleaning", which mostly meant picking things up from 
where they belonged and then putting them right back 
where they belonged, the teens tried to communicate 
without words about what they thought might be going 
on. Anyone else would have thought it was comical to 
see them miming and mouthing things at each other as 
they did things that didn't need to be done. 

They noticed that dinner was going to be special. Their 
mother was making Lasagna in that special way of hers 
that meant it was for somebody important. Then there 
were hot rolls, also a special occasion food. Finally 
there was asparagus, which was expensive, and there was 
a relish tray with black olives too, along with tiny 
sweet pickles, and carrot sticks and even deviled eggs. 
She was going all out and that raised the bar as far as 
how important this dinner guest was. 

Debbie tried again, while offering to help in the 
kitchen. "Who is this mysterious man?" she asked 
casually. 

"I told you to wait until our guest gets here. He'll 
explain everything." 

"No, not the man next door. Who is coming to dinner?" 
Debbie prodded, not having any idea that their guest 
WAS the man next door. 

Ramona smiled to herself. "I don't recall saying our 
dinner guest was a man." she said. 

"Oh come on Mommy" wheedled Debbie. "OK, who is they 
mysterious woman who's coming to dinner?" 

"I don't believe I said our guest was going to be a 
woman either." said Ramon, enjoying her teasing. 

Debbie's ire was as instantaneous as it was explosive. 
"MOTHER, YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHO'S COMING TO DINNER 
OR I'M GOING TO SCREAM!" she screamed. 

Ramona turned to her daughter with shock on her face. 
Debbie didn't act like this. These were unusual 
circumstances, but why could she care THAT much who was 
coming to dinner? 

She started to question her daughter, but Robby danced 
in and pulled at his sister's arm. 

"Come on Deb, I need your help in here for a minute." 

Debbie shook off her brother's grip and took a breath 
to make her demand again. She was frowning horribly, 
obviously upset. 

Ramona was astonished to see Robby grab his sister 
firmly by the waist and pull her bodily out of the 
kitchen as she slapped at him and tried to turn around.
 
"DROP IT DEBBIE." he commanded, his voice suddenly 
deep. 

Ramona was astonished as much by his assertiveness as 
she was by the fact that Debbie deflated and let him 
pull her out. She started to go after them, but the 
sauce began to boil and she had to stop and take care 
of that. 

Outside the kitchen Robby shoved Debbie up against a 
wall and, instead of reasoning with her, he kissed her, 
pinning her to the wall between his arms, pressing his 
chest against hers. She tried to turn her head and he 
bit her lip gently. Then as she said "OW!" into his 
mouth he let her go and stepped back. She looked at him 
with amazement and a little fear. 

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she hissed in a whisper, looking 
at the doorway to the kitchen only ten feet away. 

"Stopping you from doing something stupid." he 
whispered back, leaning toward her. "Leave it alone or 
she's going to know something's up." 

"Of COURSE something's up you idiot!" whispered his 
sister, but the shock of what he'd done had robbed her 
of her anger and she slumped. 

"Come on" he mouthed, reaching for her hand. She 
followed him, almost stomping, lifting her whole hip to 
let her leg swing forward, rather than just walking. 
She was pouting. 

He took her to the living room and pushed her down on 
the couch. 

"It's only forty-five minutes. What's done is done and 
you can't force anything to happen." he lectured her. 

"You're not my boss." she said in a sulk. 

"No, but I'm big enough to spank you." he threatened. 

"You WOULDN'T!" she yipped. 

"Yes I would." he warned. 

"You CAN'T!" she reasoned. 

"I will if you don't settle down." He leaned toward her 
and she shrank back from him. His hands kept coming 
though and he started tickling her. 

She shrieked and twisted, her hands flailing at him, 
trying to tickle him back and they ended up laughing as 
their mother, done with things in the kitchen long 
enough to investigate her children's strange behavior 
walked into the room. Ramona stopped and stared at her 
completely normal acting children as they tusseled with 
each other. She shook her head, checked her watch, and, 
with a harried expression, turned back to the kitchen. 

The twins had seen her out of the corner of their eyes, 
and when she went back in the kitchen they both felt a 
rush of relief. Robby snatched at his sister's breasts 
and squeezed them once before jumping back as she 
charged up off the couch, her hand low and open in a 
claw, obviously going for his jewels. 

Now he ran TO the kitchen, where she couldn't grab him 
in the place she intended to, laughing as she chased 
him. 

"Mom! Debbie's being mean to me." he whined as he ran 
to his mother and tried to get between her and the 
counter. 

Ramona's hands were covered with flour and her son's 
actions startled her. She spun in a circle as Robby got 
behind her and gripped her waist. He used her as a 
shield. Debbie tried to reach around her mother to 
pinch her brother and was laughing as Ramona stood, not 
knowing what to do, her hands out. 

"CHILDREN!" she yelled. 

They stopped, and she looked at Debbie, who was 
grinning. It was a moment where prior bonding asserted 
itself. As Ramona said "Behave!" her daughter flowed 
against her for a hug. Then her son added his hug to it 
and they were suddenly a Mommy sandwich... a group of 
hugging people. 

Ramona was overcome with a sudden rush of love for her 
children. As their fears had evaporated during a sexual 
act, hers evaporated during a loving act and she hugged 
Debbie fiercely. Then she turned to gather Robby into 
one arm, while she gripped Debbie with the other. 

"It's going to be all right." she said, her eyes almost 
overflowing with tears of mixed joy and apprehension. 
"Everything's going to be fine." 

Debbie, her eyes also wet, said "I love you Mommy." 

Ramona returned it. "I love you too baby. I love you 
both more than anything in the whole world." 

"I'll be patient." said Debbie. 

"Thank you." said Ramona, unnerved by how much she 
meant that. 

"Especially if you'll tell me who's coming to dinner." 
said Debbie, grinning and kissing her mother on the 
cheek. 

Ramona barked a laugh and slapped her daughter on her 
behind, leaving a ghostly white handprint. "Now get out 
of here and get ready. It's somebody special. That's 
all I'm telling you. Go on now." she gave Debbie 
another whack as they disentangled themselves. 

"And don't wear anything dirty or wrinkled!" called 
their mother as they left to go to their rooms. 

Debbie stood in her room dressed only in panties. She 
was trying to figure out what to wear. Her mother's 
actions made it plain that whoever it was that was 
coming, he... or she... was somebody important. So that 
meant Debbie should wear something nice. She chose her 
favorite blouse, and a pair of hip-hugging slacks. She 
didn't want to wear a bra, but put one on anyway, since 
nice girls wore them. Looking in the mirror she 
frowned. Her hair was a mess. She grabbed a brush and a 
rubber band. A pony tail would have to do.

Ramona put the final touches on the dishes she had 
prepared. Her stomach was full of butterflies and her 
knees felt weak. She had a clear vision in her mind of 
her brother, but it was his image at eighteen. She knew 
he had to have changed, as she had. The last them he'd 
seen her she had mere swells for breasts, and was thin 
and bony. Good food and children had changed her body, 
making it full and rounded. Her breasts, swollen with 
milk for her babies, had stayed full, even when she 
stopped breast feeding. She knew there were a few 
wrinkles on her face too. She wasn't fat, by any means, 
but she didn't look anything like she had the last time 
her brother had seen her.

She hung up her apron and started for her own bedroom, 
where she intended to dress in a dark blue sundress 
that would be both comfortable and, she hoped, pretty. 
It only had spaghetti straps, so she wouldn't be able 
to wear a bra, but her breasts didn't sag too much. She 
thought it would be OK.

Ramona had taken only three steps when the front 
doorbell rang. He was here! He was early! She was a 
wreck!

Before she could make any decision about what to do 
Debbie flashed past her at a dead run.

"I'LL GET IT!" she yelled excitedly.

Robby was close behind, shuffling down the stairs in 
that light bouncing way that only young people can 
descend a staircase.

"He's early!" squeaked Ramona.

The world went into slow motion for Ramona. This wasn't 
how things were supposed to be. She wanted to be the 
one to open the door, to usher in the man her children 
knew nothing about, to introduce him, dressed nicely.

"WAIT!" she screamed.

Debbie skidded to a stop by the front door. Her face 
turned, questioning to her mother.

"I'm not ready!" said Ramona, her voice shaky.

"We can't just leave him out there!" said Debbie 
reaching for the knob.

"But..." started Ramona, as Debbie turned the knob and 
pulled the door open.

Ramona's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she 
gasped.

Standing in the door was a disheveled looking man. He 
was stooped, as if old. He had a wild nest for hair, 
and a long black beard. He was wearing a trench coat. 
He looked like a bum, searching for a handout.

"Hello" said the man in a modulated voice, somewhere 
between bass and tenor. "I'm mister Smith."

The reactions from the members of the Franklin family 
were remarkably similar though slightly different.

Debbie gasped and stepped back from the door, away from 
the man.

Ramona gasped and stood stock still.

Robby gasped and took a step forward, his protective 
instincts on sudden alert.

Mister Smith appeared to smile beneath his beard. "Your 
mother has graciously invited me to dinner this 
evening. I'm afraid I'm a little early. I hope this 
does not inconvenience you too much." He spoke with a 
strange accent, like he wasn't from America, but spoke 
English fluently.

Ramona recovered first. The man's voice was the same 
one she'd heard on the phone, and recognized as her 
brother's. His appearance was completely unexpected 
and... wrong somehow.

"Mister... Smith" she said, her voice trembling a 
little. "Please come in. I apologize for my appearance, 
but... as you said... you are a bit early. Children!" 
she barked. "Get Mister Smith something to drink and 
take his... coat." That seemed odd to say in the middle 
of summer.

Debbie, staring at the man in horror, chose to go to 
the kitchen, leaving Robby to step toward the man, his 
hand outstretched for the coat, which was still firmly 
settled on his shoulders.

Instead Mister Smith gripped Robby's hand and pumped it 
with vigor. 

"I'm very happy to meet you." he said. "And your name 
is...?"

"Robby" said the boy with a dry throat. The man's grip 
was firm and warm, what Robby had been told was a 
"good" handshake.

"Robby as in Robert?" mused the man, still not taking 
off his coat.

"No, just Robby." said Robby. "Your coat?"

"If it's all the same to you I'd just as soon wear it." 
said the strange man. "I have a condition... it's not 
catching, mind you... but I'm more comfortable with it 
on."

Debbie appeared in the entrance to the living room, a 
glass of iced tea in her hand. She held it out from 
across the room, as if she hoped he could extend his 
arm like rubber to grasp it and she wouldn't have to 
come any closer.

"What a beautiful young woman." said Mister Smith 
admiringly. You are the very picture of your mother..." 
the sentence was strangely cut off, as if he had been 
about to say something more, and then decided not to.

"Thank you?" Debbie's voice came as a question.

Ramona came down the stairs. She was wearing her blue 
sundress and she looked fabulous in it. She had left 
her hair in a pony tail too, out of necessity and to 
save time. She'd put on a touch of lipstick and wiped 
at a dab of flour on her face as she turned away from 
the mirror. All she'd done was smear the flour into a 
long oblong.

"A vision of loveliness." sighed the scruffy stranger.

That caused both teens to turn and look at where he was 
looking, to see their mother. 

"Mom!" said Debbie. "You're barefoot!"

Ramona looked down at her bare feet as if they belonged 
to someone else. She looked up blankly. "I guess I 
forgot my shoes."

Mister Smith laughed. "Ah, but it is summer anyway, is 
it not? And bare feet are perfect for summer."

Ramona's plan to announce their uncle had been put on 
hold. Ramona, while she changed, realized that her 
brother was wearing a disguise for some reason. She 
couldn't imagine why, but he had, so now she didn't 
know if he wanted to be identified or not. She needed a 
few minutes alone with him. Her heart was fluttering as 
she slipped on the dress. By the time she got to the 
bottom of the stairs her heart was pounding.

"Children," she said weakly. "Would you please put the 
food on the table while I have a word with Mister... 
Smith." 

Neither child wanted to leave the room, especially 
Robby, but their mother stared at them until they left. 
Standing there to make sure they didn't come right back 
in, she watched the entryway for a moment and then 
turned to find "Mister Smith" standing only a foot 
away.

"Bobby?" she whispered. "What are you doing?"

"Rami, you're so gorgeous." he breathed. "I thought I 
remembered your beauty, but I can't believe how you've 
changed. You take my breath away." Then he jerked. "I 
don't want anyone to know who I am right now. I'm 
posing as the caretaker for the house... to get things 
started before the ruckus there will be when people 
find out I'm back. There have been legal claims filed 
against the estate... vultures who think they can take 
what is not theirs. I don't want to talk to reporters, 
even if the only ones that show up are from the local 
newspaper.

"The kids...." she said. "I was going to tell the kids 
about you... going to let YOU tell them about you." she 
said helplessly.

"I didn't think you wanted your husband to know about 
me." he said thickly.

"He died Bobby" she whispered urgently. "I didn't have 
the strength to find you... to tell you. I'm sorry." 
she said, her mouth turning down.

He reached out to touch her arm. "It is I who am sorry. 
I have neglected you and our family name in the pursuit 
of a mad dream. I'm so sorry to hear of your sorrow... 
your loss. But I need to remain anonymous a little 
longer. Can I do that please? Would your children tell 
people who I am if they knew?

"I don't know. It's going to be a shock to them. I 
never told them about you Bobby. I'm so sorry. I don't 
know what I was thinking. Hearing your voice now... I 
feel..." She broke off, wiping an eye.

"What am I going to tell them now?" she asked 
frantically. "They want to know who you are and what 
you're doing!"

"Why would they care so much?" he asked, puzzled. Then 
a gleam came into his eye. "Unless it is THEY who have 
been using the house!"

"Using the house?" asked Ramona. "What do you mean? 
What are you talking about?"

"Someone has been using the house... being there I 
mean. They haven't bothered anything really, but I 
found a small collection of valuables, or things that 
children might think were valuable in one of the rooms. 
And some clothing has been unpacked... our parents' 
clothing."

"WHAT?!" came Ramona's astonished reply. "NO! It 
couldn't be them. I'd know. They never go there. NO ONE 
ever goes there Bobby!" she gasped.

"Well then, it is someone else. No matter, as I said 
they haven't bothered anything. If anything they have 
kept things in order, somewhat, and cared for things to 
some degree. There has been no vandalism, as I feared 
there would be."

"But what do we tell them?" she asked.

"Let me handle that." he said. "I won't stay long."

"But I wanted to see you!" she moaned. "To talk to 
you."

"I'll be right next door from now on." he said. "You 
can come and see me any time you like."

"I can't do that!" she said. "What if somebody saw me?"

"You work at the bank. I'll just request that they 
assign you as my personal teller... to handle all my 
accounts... to assist me in my mission."

"They won't do that!" said Ramona with a gasp.

"Dear Rami, my sweet" he said in natural closeness that 
was somehow easy to revive, "In the years that have 
gone by, the inheritance our father left us has grown 
much. They'll do anything I ask to keep my account in 
their little bank. Did you waste all your money?" he 
asked gently.

"No, I've never touched that money." she said 
breathlessly. "That money is tainted."

"Then my dear beautiful sister, you are rich beyond 
your wildest dreams. And the original money is long 
gone, returned to the treasury or dispensed to persons. 
That money is yours. You may do with it what you wish, 
but it is yours. Our father provided for us. What harm 
can there be in that? Think of it as his last gasp of 
love for us. He loved us, you know, he and mother 
both."

Ramona's eyes misted and glazed as she recalled one of 
her dimmest memories... the tall brown haired woman who 
had sung to her and dressed her in frilly dresses, 
taking her for walks in the sun... in the beautiful 
gardens. "I remember." she whispered.

"Then let us to dinner, to answer your handsome 
children's questions. They are beautiful, Rami... your 
children."

"Yes" she said firmly. "They are the loves of my life."

"I used to be the love of your life... long ago." he 
said softly.

"I remember that too, Bobby." she whispered again. She 
wanted to hug him, to cling to him, but his appearance 
was so strange and wrong that she couldn't.

"Come." he said. He held out his hand. She took it, 
feeling the calluses of the work he'd done for many 
years with his hands, and the strength in them too.

Debbie and Robby had tried to eavesdrop on the adults 
in the other room, but could hear only murmurs of 
conversation. They heard their mother exclaim 
something, but couldn't hear what it was. They labored 
mechanically, transferring dishes to the table, getting 
the silverware their mother had absent mindedly 
forgotten to put out. She had used the good dishes and 
crystal glasses that they had eaten on perhaps only a 
dozen times in their life.

And for this stranger?!


Chapter Four
============

Having been unable to hear what their mother and the 
strange hermit-looking man talked about, curiosity 
consumed the twins and they waited impatiently when the 
mumbling stopped and yet, the adults still didn't 
appear. Debbie craned her neck, trying to peek around 
the corner without being seen. As the adults suddenly 
walked into view, Debbie saw that the man was holding 
her mother's hand. He dropped it and then looked 
directly into Debbie's eyes.

This stranger looked... stranger and stranger.

They sat, Ramona at the head of the table, with her 
children on each side of her and Mister Smith at the 
other end. 

As dishes of food began to be passed around, the man 
spoke.

"Your mother tells me that you two are curious about 
what is happening next door, at the old Nettleton 
place. This is true, yes?"

His accent caused Debbie to stutter. "Y..Y..Yes." The 
bowl of asparagus slipped from her fingers and thumped 
on the table, but didn't spill.

Debbie blushed. "Sorry." she said.

"Well, that is a simple thing to answer." said the man, 
scooping out a huge helping of Lasagna. He held the 
last spoon full to his nose and drew in a great breath. 
"This is smelling divine to me." he said.

Ramona scrunched up her face, somewhere between happy 
and trying to tell him that the accent was too heavy.

He passed the bowl to Robby who stared at it. It was a 
third empty and Smith was the only one who'd been 
served. He blinked and took some, unconsciously taking 
less than he usually would have.

Debbie had been waiting for Smith to go on, but he 
didn't, choosing first salt, then getting three hot 
rolls, and then asking for butter.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, leaning toward the man.

He looked at her through his wild hair and bushy 
eyebrows and grinned with startlingly white teeth. 
Debbie noticed there was a stick of some sort stuck in 
the hair at the top of the man's left ear, like some 
carpenters wore a pencil. The end of the stick looked 
like it had been smashed, leaving tiny slivers of wood 
bunched together. She stared at it and he saw where her 
eyes were. His hand reached up and felt the stick.

"This is a makeshift toothbrush." he said amiably, 
"Such as they use in the country I have come from." "I 
have not yet had time to purchase a new one here in 
your delightful town."

Debbie's mouth hung open. Who used a stick as a 
toothbrush? Who went anywhere without a toothbrush? She 
shook her head and frowned.

"You are having some impatience, yes?" prodded the man, 
grinning.

Debbie blushed more, her face going sunburn red.

"Sorry" she mumbled again.

Smith laughed, and his voice sounded warm and nice, not 
at all like he looked.

"I should not tease you." he said. "That is bad 
manners." But then he took a bite of the lasagna, 
getting sauce on his moustache and beard, which he 
seemed completely unaware of. It was disgusting. 

He smacked his lips and leaned back. "I work for the 
Nettletons" he said. "It is wished for that the old 
family house be restored. I am to oversee that 
process."

Had he said a comet was going to smash into the earth 
and kill everybody, the impact wouldn't have been any 
more profound.

Debbie gulped for air and ended up hyperventilating, 
getting dizzy and wobbling in her chair. Smith was out 
of his chair in a flash, catching her before she fell, 
while her brother and mother stared, uncomprehending.

"I need a bag." he barked, the accent suddenly much 
diminished. "Something she can breathe into."

Ramona jumped from her chair like a rabbit jumps when 
it's been shot, and scurried to the kitchen. She came 
back with a lunch sack and handed it to him.

Debbie was flialing weakly and Robby was ineffectually 
trying to get the disgusting man to stop touching his 
sister, but she was almost unconscious as her lungs 
spasmed.

"Hold her" he said to Ramona and he prepared the bag, 
slapping the open end over her mouth and nose. "Hold 
this to your face little one." he ordered.

Debbie's hands came up and pressed the bag to her face, 
half crushing it, but her head cleared almost 
immediately as she rebreathed air poor in oxygen. 

Smith stepped back to his chair, sat down, and began 
stuffing lasagna into his mouth, alternating with bread 
and asparagus. He made noises of appreciation while 
Debbie got control of herself and her mother hovered 
over her.

"I'm fine Mom." she said, disgusted that this foul 
stranger had helped her. "Go sit down and eat." Her 
appetite was gone, and she sat, staring at her plate.

Smith paused, speaking with his mouth full, his words 
mushy. He picked up the conversation right where it had 
left off, as if nothing had happened. 

"This renovation displeases you?" he asked, reaching 
for tea to wash down the food. 

"You can't" said Debbie in a small voice.

"DEBBIE!" came her mother's astonished voice.

"Well... HE CAN'T!" shouted Debbie. "IT'S NOT RIGHT!"

"DEBBIE JEAN FRANKLIN" said her mother in a too loud 
voice. "WHERE are your manners?!"

Smith held up his hand. "There is much passion in this 
beautiful almost-woman." he said, looking at her with 
piercing eyes. "This is America, yes? In this land you 
speak freely, is that not so?"

"Yes!" blurted Debbie. "And I say you should go back to 
wherever you came from and LEAVE US ALONE!" she ended 
in a shout, her face red again, this time from anger.

"Debbie, you are excused to your room." said Ramona, 
her voice cold and sharp. "Freedom of speech does NOT 
mean you may be disrespectful to our guest."

Debbie's eyes were stricken and she ducked her head. 
Then it snapped back up, her eyes blazing. "I PREFER to 
go to my room right now mother!"

She stood and stiffly turned to stalk out of the dining 
room toward the stairs.

Ramona watched her go and then her eyes went to her 
son, who had sat mute and stiff throughout the whole 
exchange.

"Would you like to tell me what's going on here?" she 
asked in a voice that made it clear she expected to be 
told what was going on.

Robby didn't know what to do or say. He couldn't just 
admit that they'd played in the mansion for years, that 
they felt ownership of the dilapidated place. That 
would lead to consequences that couldn't possibly be 
happy.

"It's haunted." he blurted. "The ghosts will be 
unhappy. They might do things." he suggested vaguely.

Ramona, whose own spirit had been dampened many times 
by thoughts of that old house and the pain it had seen, 
but who had never thought even once that she might be 
"haunted" by an unhappy ghost, laughed, her voice at 
the edge of panic. Then her giggle box fell over with a 
silent thump and uncontrollable giggles gushed out of 
Ramona's mouth until she was gasping for breath, almost 
like her daughter had been. She tried to take a drink 
of tea and choked on it. Now she was trying to laugh 
and cough at the same time. Twin dribbles of tea 
dripped from her nostrils.

Again Smith was on his feet and pounding her back 
lightly, helpless to do anything else.

Robby just stared.

All the tension Ramona had felt building, and only 
partially released by her earlier crying session in the 
car, flooded out with her laughs. It was a catharsis 
she needed badly and, even though she was afraid she'd 
fall out of her chair she was ecstatic at the feel of 
all that unwanted tightness flowing out of her body. 
Then she thought of what she'd look like falling over, 
lying on the floor, tea running out of her nose, and 
she laughed even harder. Her brother... her dear sweet 
brother was there. He was going to be here next door 
for a long time... maybe forever... and that thought 
made her feel even better. She drew in a racking deep 
breath and finally got control of her diaphragm. Now 
all she had to do was pull in more air and she'd be 
fine.

Smith stood up, staring down at the woman. "All the 
women in this family have these breathing problems, 
yes?"

That made Ramona laugh too, but this time it was a 
short, normal laugh. She wiped her eyes and cheeks with 
her palms and, then grabbed the napkin to rub under her 
nose. With her cleared vision saw that Debbie had 
returned to the bottom of the stairs and was staring 
curiously at the scene in the dining room.

Ramona pointed at her. "YOU!" she said. "If you've 
found your manners you may return to the table." Then, 
a few more giggles chuckled out of her mouth.

Debbie turned and went back up the stairs.

Ramona felt sad at that, but waved mister Smith back to 
his chair.

"Ghosts." she said, and giggled again.

"I'm thinking there are no ghosts." said Smith, 
beginning to eat again.

Robby, flushed with shame and anger at his mother's 
laughter, just sat. His appetite was gone too.

"Lots of people think there are ghosts." said Robby 
sullenly.

His mother heard the anger in his voice, and she 
calmed. "Robby, I wasn't laughing at you. Not really. I 
think I was just laughing because I needed to laugh. I 
don't think you’re silly or anything like that." she 
said. "But I also don't believe in ghosts."

Robby, his heart sinking, knew beyond his years that 
nothing he could say would undo what was going on. 

"I'm not really hungry." he said. "Can I go?"

Ramona's first instinct was to say "No.", but she heard 
the sadness in his voice and nodded instead. He got up 
and walked heavily to the stairs.

When his footfalls were gone, Robert Nettleton, looking 
ridiculous in his sauce smeared false moustache and 
beard, looked helplessly at his sister.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"I don't know." she answered truthfully. "They 
shouldn't care so much about what happens over there. 
Nobody else does. I don't understand it." she said.

"Are you sure they don't know?" he asked. "About who 
you really are I mean?"

"Bobby, I've never told them anything. Just that our 
parents were gone. I avoided talking about it, not 
wanting them to be affected by... our past."

There was more meaning in her voice than that 
associated with the house and grounds of the Nettleton 
Mansion. Robert wanted to tell her about their mother's 
jewelry box, that he'd found in the wrong room of the 
mansion, with things in it that had been put there by 
someone other than their mother, including a watch that 
had to have been their father's. He was distracted by 
the pain in her voice. It reminded him of his own pain.

"I missed you so much." said Robert.

"I wanted to die at first." said Ramona. "But then I 
met Richard and it wasn't so bad. And then when the 
twins were born I was happy Bobby... really happy."

She looked at the strange apparition at her table and 
then looked away. As long as all she did was hear his 
voice she had a picture of 18 year old Bobby Nettleton 
in her mind. 

"Didn't you ever find a girl? To love?" she asked.

"Oh, there were girls, I suppose, but none to claim my 
heart." he said. "My work was such that there was no 
time or place for romance anyway."

"That's so sad." said Ramona, her heart going out to 
him.

"I'm young." he said. "And I'm rich. I won't be alone 
for long. Not in the good old U.S. of A."

"I'll have a talk with the kids." said Ramona. "I'll 
try to find out what's really going on." She stole a 
peek at him. "I'm glad you're back Bobby. I missed you 
too."

He grinned. "Come over and see me sometime. Bring some 
more of this delicious food. I won't have electricity 
for two more weeks, and then I can get some appliances 
in there and begin cooking for myself. Man, I've missed 
food like this."

"When do you think you'll go... public?" she asked.

"There are six liens filed against the place, from 
contractors who SAY they have been doing upkeep. That's 
preposterous and I don't want them to know they're 
dealing with me. All they are doing is grubbing for 
money. More will probably come out as soon as the word 
gets out that I'm back. I have several court 
appearances to make as Mister Smith and then I should 
be able to throw away this horrible hair.

Ramona giggled. "It IS horrible. Couldn't you have 
gotten something nicer?"

"I thought it gave me a colorful appearance." he said, 
wounded.

"Yes, but the color is so... " she was searching for 
the right word. 

He finished the sentence for her. "Crazy?"

She blushed. "I didn't say that. YOU said that."

"Well, I won't wear it when you come to call." He dug 
in the pocket of the coat he was still wearing and 
handed her a shiny brass key. "This goes to the padlock 
on the gate. I oiled the hinges and it now works 
flawlessly. I don't lock the house. Haven't gotten 
around to finding the right locksmith. The ghosts will 
keep everybody else away." he said grinning.

"What will I tell the kids?" she asked, a flutter in 
her stomach at the idea of going back to the house 
she'd stayed away from for so long.

"Bring them along." he said. "I have an idea the 
disguise idea was a bad one... at least with them. Who 
knows? I probably didn't need a disguise at all. Who 
around here would recognize me anyway? I think I only 
used it because it was such an exotic idea."

He stood up. "Now, I'd better go. You have two unruly 
children to deal with. If they give you too much 
trouble come get me and I'll come back and scare them 
half to death." He grinned again.

"I'd kiss you goodbye, but I'm not going near that mess 
you have on your face. I hope you have water over 
there." said Ramona.

"Water I have in plenty. The old well is still good and 
the pump worked fine once I replaced the leather 
gasket. It's cold, but I can always warm up some for a 
whore's bath on the wood stove. As for the kiss... I'll 
save it for you..."

Ramona blushed. "That was a long time ago Bobby." she 
said.

"I know." he said back. "I really missed you Rami."

Then he went to the door and let himself out with a 
wave over his shoulder. Ramona stood and just tried to 
decide how she felt.

It took quite a while, as she turned the shiny brass 
key over and over in her fingers. Finally she went 
upstairs to talk to her children.

She found them together. They were in Robby's room. 
Robby was lying on the bed, while Debbie paced back and 
forth. She stopped when Ramona stepped into the room. 
Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks tear-stained.

"Why is that old place so important to you two?" asked 
their mother.

Debbie slumped. Like Robby, she just couldn't confess 
to what they'd done for so many years. It was their 
secret. It wasn't their sexual play that was uppermost 
in Debbie's mind. It was the length of time the secret 
had been kept from her mother. She knew her mother 
would be hurt by the truth. 

As they say, the best defense is a good offense.

"Mom" said Debbie, her voice under control now. "You 
treated that... man... like he was somebody special. 
You fixed your best dinner. We used our best dishes. 
You were excited, Mom. But when he got here you acted 
like you'd never seen him in your life. Who is he?"

Now it was Ramona who had a fifteen year secret she'd 
kept from the two people she loved most in the world. 
And she had no idea how to tell them about that secret, 
and all the other secrets she had kept for their entire 
lives... even beyond their entire lives.

"He's somebody I knew a long time ago." she sighed. "He 
looked differently than I expected him to and it 
surprised me. He was very important to me back then. 
That's all I can tell you about him. I want to tell you 
more... but I can't. Not yet. In a few weeks, maybe." 
Her voice was defeated. She knew her children would not 
stand for that answer. "It's very complicated."

"How could you have known him long ago? It's obvious 
he's from some foreign country. I don't understand." 
Debbie's voice was defeated too.

"Mom?" came Robby's voice.

"Yes sweetheart." she said back.

"Do you trust us?"

That surprised Ramona. "Of course I trust you. I love 
you." she said.

"OK, we trust you and love you too." he said. "How 
about this? How about you trust us when we tell you we 
really care about that house. We can't explain why, but 
it's true. And we'll trust you when you tell us that 
you know that man, and that he's not a bad man. He's 
not, right?"

Ramona smiled tiredly. "No, he's not bad. He's a very 
good man."

"He scares me." said Debbie.

"He would never hurt you for anything in the world." 
said her mother.

"OK, if you say so, but he's still scary. That hair... 
the way he eats. He eats like he's starving, or has 
never had good food in his life. It's just weird." 
Debbie went and sat on the edge of the bed, by her 
brother.

"He said he's going to restore the house. What does 
that mean exactly?" asked Robby.

"There used to be beautiful gardens all around it." 
said Ramona, her voice going soft as she remembered. 
"And the house was painted and the tower roof was 
covered in shining copper shingles. And there were 
beautiful rugs and servants and music. It was a 
beautiful place then." she said.

"How do you know that?" asked Debbie, her imagination 
fired by the description.

Ramona jerked, coming back to the present. Her words 
had been dangerous. "I... ahh... talked with Mister 
Smith about it. Back then he lived there." She folded 
her arms. "I think Robby's idea is good. I'll trust you 
two, and you trust me. In a few weeks there may be 
enough changes that your questions will be able to be 
answered. Maybe mine too. OK?"

There was a duet of sighed "OK"s from the bed.

"Now, let's all go down and clean up together. I'm too 
tired to do it all by myself. For calling it such a 
special meal you two sure didn't eat much of it. I 
could warm some up if you want..."

As if on cue, Debbie's stomach growled and she giggled. 
The rest of the evening was spent much more happily 
than before as they all put the old house out of their 
minds and were just a family.

The next day, though, after their mother had gone to 
work, Debbie charged into her brother's room, where he 
was still sleeping. She jumped on top of him, tickling 
him mercilessly.

"Wake up lazy bones!" she squealed. "Let's go see what 
that horrible old man is doing to our house!"

Robby tried to defend himself by grabbing his sister's 
breasts and squeezing them. It didn't work. All she did 
was lean into his hands.

"Mmmm that feels nice. I should have let you touch me a 
long time ago."

"I don't recall asking to touch you." he said, moving 
his hands in opposite directions and then back again, 
making her braless breasts bounce sideways. They were 
too firm to hit each other though.

She sat up and pushed his hands away. "So, come on, 
let's go!" she said excitedly.

"You're crazy." he said, his hands moving to her 
thighs. She was astride him like she was riding a 
horse. "We can't go over there any more. That man would 
probably chop us up and cook us on a campfire."

"No he wouldn't. You heard Mommy. She said he'd never 
ever hurt us, not for anything."

"That doesn't mean he'd be happy to see us. Besides, 
what are we going to do, just walk up to the place and 
say "Hi, we just thought we'd drop by. Seeing as how we 
yelled and screamed at you last night we thought we'd 
be all friendly today.""

Debbie put her hands on top of his hands, which were on 
top of her thighs. She stroked the back of his hands 
with her fingertips.

"No, silly. We're going to spy. From the secret 
passage. Through the peep holes. I just want to keep an 
eye on him and see what he's doing. Besides, if our 
stash is still there maybe we can get it while he's in 
some other part of the house. Don't you want your 
watch?"

"Didn't mom say he used to live there?" asked Robby. 
"Maybe he knows all about the secret passages."

"Of course not." said Debbie firmly. "That's why 
they're called secret passages, because they're secret. 
Those were made when the house was new, and there's no 
way mister Smith could have lived there more than 
what... twenty or thirty years ago maybe? He's not old 
enough to have lived there before that. And he'd have 
had to be a little boy too if he lived there back 
then." She stopped and thought for a moment. "You know 
what? I bet he and mom went to school together or 
something like that. And they played together, or he 
was her boyfriend, like when they were in forth or 
fifth grade or something. And he lived in the house and 
Mom lived wherever she lived... where DID mom grow up?" 
Debbie was getting animated by her imaginary 
assumptions.

"I don't know." said Robby. "But I'd rather stay here 
and play naughty with you. Maybe they played naughty 
when they were little." said Robby, his hands sliding 
up Debbie's thighs and onto her waist, moving ever 
upward toward her breasts again.

"Robby!" Debbie was scandalized. "That's our MOTHER 
you're talking about." She screwed up her face. 
"Ewwwww, can you imagine mom with that... man?!"

She jumped up, eliciting a grunt from Robby as her firm 
hard butt bounced on his stomach.

"Come on, get up, let's go!" she demanded.

Robby got up and unabashedly stripped off his PJ 
bottoms, showing his morning woody to his sister while 
he pulled on a pair of shorts. She stared intently at 
it, but didn't move to touch him.

"Maybe we'll play naughty later." she said, and then 
danced out of his reach toward the door, teasing him. 
She pulled her T shirt up, showing him her naked 
breasts and backed out the door.

"Come on baby, you want these? Come on, just follow 
little Debbie and maybe she'll let you play with them." 
She had to turn and run to avoid being caught and 
laughed as she ran out through the back door and into 
the yard.

Though she had run outside, Debbie didn't head for the 
fence to the Nettleton Mansion. Instead she ran around 
the house a couple of times, staying just ahead of her 
brother, teasing him. She ran like the wind and loved 
that he couldn't quite catch her. When he finally 
slowed down, panting for breath, she slowed down too, 
still walking, until they got to the back of the house, 
where no one in the neighborhood could see them.

Then she let him catch her. She tried to kiss him, as 
consolation for besting him in the race, but both were 
breathing too hard for it to really work. They waited 
until they were sure their mother wasn't coming back 
home because she forgot something. Then they walked to 
the fence where their "private entrance" was and 
slipped through. 

As they penetrated the dense forest, they began to hear 
noises that were foreign to ears tuned to the normal 
silence of their fantasy play place. Instead of going 
to the root cellar, which meant they'd be exposed for 
the few seconds it would take to get to the entrance 
and down the stairs, they stayed to the woods and did a 
circuit of the house to see what was going on outside.

They were astonished.

There were trucks and vans everywhere, parked all over 
what had, at one time been lawns and gardens. One had a 
sign on the side that indicated it was from a plumbing 
company. Another one was an electrical contractor. 
There were two from the local garden center, and they 
had a tractor with a bucket on the front that they were 
using to clear swaths of weeds and bushes away from 
around the house. There was a truck with no sign, but 
two men who wore white coveralls spattered with paint, 
suggesting they were painters. Another truck was from a 
roofing company. There was a tractor looking thing that 
had a long arm on the back, with a scoop on the end, 
and it was digging a long trench from the house toward 
the street. They winced as they realized if it kept 
going more of their cherished forest would be 
destroyed.

There were ladders up against the house in several 
places, and men on them, taking things off the house 
and others putting things on the house. The whole place 
looked different already, though most of that was just 
because of activity, and not substantive changes to the 
appearance of the house itself.

Still, it was obvious that the appearance would change. 
Already the house looked like it stood straighter, 
without the sag it had always seemed to have, like it 
was coming awake after a long slumber.

As they watched a truck left, and another one came. It 
was met by mister Smith, still wearing his long black 
trench coat, his beard and hair only a little less 
tangled. Debbie thought she'd see old crusted lasagna 
sauce in that beard if she were close enough. She 
shuddered.

Smith was flitting from one place to another, talking 
to this man, or that, pointing and gesticulating. The 
tractors made too much noise for them to hear what he 
was saying, but it was obvious he was issuing 
directions to the contractors.

The great double front doors stood wide open, letting 
sunlight into the foyer, which had not seen such light 
in decades. Two men were climbing twin ladders, set 
only a few feet apart, and were carrying something 
square between them, up the ladder. Whatever it was it 
sparkled and glistened in the sun, in vivid colors of 
red, green, blue and a golden color that could only be 
called yellow by a blind person.

"It's stained glass!" whispered Robby, close to his 
sister. The men stopped at an open hole in the side of 
the house, where a window had been removed. Carefully 
they fitted the new window into the hole and did 
something to make it stay.

Another truck arrived, a larger one, with a flat bed 
heaped with all kinds of things. There was copper 
piping, and boxes marked as containing toilets and 
sinks. There were coils of black that looked like wire 
of some kind. Men got out and began carrying things 
into the house.

Yet another van arrived, this one marked as the 
delivery service for a dry cleaning establishment. Two 
people got out of it with folded boxes and went into 
the house.

Robby noticed that Debbie was panting, as if she'd run. 
He moved and saw tears running down her cheeks, 
dripping to the forest floor. 

He reached out to touch her arm and she turned her tear 
streaked face to him.

"They're changing everything." she sobbed, melting into 
his arms. "I HATE HIM!" she screamed.

Robby hushed her, but there was really no chance her 
cry had been overheard. He hugged her to him as she 
sobbed. Finally he let her go and took her hand. 

"Come on." he said. "There's nothing we can do here."

He was just about to lead her back home, when a car 
drove into the chaos of vehicles littering the yard. 
They stared at the car.

It was their car.

Their mother was driving.

Crouching down in the bushes they watched as Ramona got 
out and stood, in the open door, staring at all the 
other vehicles, and at the house. She didn't move for a 
long time. Then, reaching into the car and removing a 
leather briefcase, she took a few tentative steps 
toward the house.

"Maybe she's got something in there to make them stop." 
whispered Robby.

That hope was dented a little when SMITH saw their 
mother and hurried over to her. He started to embrace 
her, plain as day, but then dropped his arms and stood 
back, looking over his shoulder at the contractors 
scattered around the grounds. He took her elbow and led 
her into the house.

"What's she doing here?" asked Debbie, puzzled. 

"I don't know." said Robby, puzzled himself.

"We've got to get in there!" said Debbie, standing up.

"We can't get past all those people!" said Robby.

"The secret way, you Dodo." she said, looking at him 
like he was daft.

"I don't know Deb." he said uncertainly. "What if we 
make a noise or something? They could hear us and then 
what would we do?"

"There's no way they could hear us with all that noise 
going on." said Debbie. "You're CHICKEN! Aren't you!"

As anyone knows, that's probably the best way to get a 
fifteen year old boy to do just about anything he 
probably shouldn't do, and it worked just like it would 
have on any other fifteen year old boy.

Debbie had to run to catch up to her brother, who was 
stomping through the woods in an arc that would bring 
them to the back of the root cellar.

"Be careful." warned Debbie, afraid she'd made him so 
mad that he might do something stupid.

"What's the matter? he growled. "You turning CHICKEN?"

"I'm sorry Robby... come on... you want to know what 
she's doing in there don't you?"

He stopped and turned as she almost ran into him. "If 
we get caught, I AM going to spank you. I PROMISE!" 
Then he turned and went on.

They waited briefly in the bushes, watching the back of 
the house, but there was only one man on a ladder 
there, and all his attention seemed to be on where some 
boards had been removed on the side of the house.

They made the dash to the steps and skipped steps 
getting down into the cellar. Without waiting to see if 
anyone raised the alarm, Robby jerked open the secret 
door and they ducked into the tunnel. Again, they had 
forgotten to bring a candle, but again, they both knew 
the tunnel so well they could negotiate it in the pitch 
black with no problem. Still, Robby went first, while 
Debbie held on to his waist.

Robby pulled gently at the door. They had used it so 
much that it opened easily now, though the hinges 
squeaked. They had never thought to oil them, since 
whenever they were there they were alone.

There was a little light in the secret passage, coming 
in from the peep holes. While it would have seemed dark 
to most people, after the pitch black of the tunnel it 
was a little like being outside in starlight to the 
teens.

There were thumps that seemed to come from nowhere and 
everywhere at once as they stepped gently up the 
staircase. They saw nothing at the first peepholes, and 
then a painter at the third. Going on up a level, where 
the bedrooms were, they went to the peephole that led 
into "their" bedroom. The room was empty. Their box of 
treasure was still sitting where they had left it 
before.

They struck pay dirt at the big bedroom, with the four 
poster bed. 

The teens peered silently into the big bedroom where 
they had played dress up so many times.

Smith and their mother were in that room, along with 
one of the people who had gotten out of the Dry 
Cleaner's van. Ramona was standing along one wall while 
Smith instructed the man on what to pack into the box. 
The hangings from the four poster went into one, and 
the curtains from the windows went into another.

"And everything in those chests." he pointed to the 
cedar chests where the clothing Robby and Debbie had 
worn for years was packed. "But you can get those 
another day. Do you think these can be repaired and 
cleaned?" he said lifting up a drooping corner of cloth 
from inside one of the boxes.

"They're pretty old, but I'd say they're in fair shape. 
I have to tell you though, Mister Smith, this is going 
to be expensive. We'll have to re-weave a lot of the 
holes, and finding fabric - genuine period fabric - 
will be expensive too. It would be cheaper to just have 
new ones made."

"No!" barked Smith. "Only if something is too 
deteriorated to save. I want to save as much as 
possible. Expense is not an issue."

"Well, it's your money..." said the man, packing up the 
boxes. The other man came in and helped him carry the 
boxes out.

Debbie and Robby had to trade off using the peep hole. 
They whispered to each other as to what they were 
seeing. The voices were faint, through the wall, but 
there was only lath and plaster between them and the 
people in the room, and they could hear through that 
fairly well.

Debbie watched as Smith looked out of the bedroom door 
and then closed it. She heard the thunk of a latch 
being thrown.

"I told you they'd assign you to me if I wanted them 
to." he said to their mother.

"It was amazing!" said Ramona. "I got called into the 
president of the bank's office and he instructed me 
that I was to do anything you wanted me to."

Smith stood, looking at their mother. "Anything?" he 
leered.

"Bobby," said Ramona, "I'm here on business."

Bobby? thought Debbie. His name was Bobby?

"All work and no play makes... Bobby a dull boy." he 
grinned.

"Do you have to keep that horrible thing on your face 
all the time?" asked Debbie's mother.

"Not when we're alone." said the man, and, to Debbie's 
astonishment he reached up and pulled off his hair.

Debbie gasped and stepped back and ran into the wall on 
the opposite side of the secret passageway with a 
thump. 

Robby was at the peephole instantly, just in time to 
see the man throw a black, hairy mass on the bare 
mattress of the big bed. There was smooth brown hair on 
his head. Then he pulled at his beard and Robby saw 
sticky strings of something that had glued it to his 
face pull away. He tossed that on the bed too and 
stood, looking at Ramona.

"Is that better?" he asked.

Ramona was staring at the man, the briefcase hanging 
from her hand.

"You look so different." she said softly.

"It's been a long time Rami." he said.

"You're so handsome." she said.

"Not as handsome as you are beautiful." said the man 
who called himself Smith. He stepped toward Bobby's 
mother. "I missed you so much Rami."

Then, to Robby's astonishment, she rushed into the 
man's arms, into a kiss that was obviously voluntary 
and as heartfelt as when Robby kissed his sister.

Now it was Robby who staggered away from the peephole, 
running into his sister's soft body. She held his waist 
with her hands to stabilize them both.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"He kissed her." gasped Robby.

"WHAT?!" said Debbie, her voice like a shout in the 
confines of the narrow hallway.

"Shhhh" said Robby instinctively. "She kissed HIM." he 
corrected himself.

Debbie shoved him to one side and pressed her face to 
the holes.

"They kissed each other." whispered Robby.

That kiss was still going on as Debbie's eyes focused 
on the adults. That, and a whole lot more. The now 
brown-haired and clean shaven man - the same man she 
had seen before when she peeked the last time - had his 
hand cupping her mother's breast, and Ramona's arms 
were wrapped around his neck.

Ramona pushed him away. "We can't Bobby." she said. She 
didn't make him remove his hand, which stayed right 
where it had been, lifting the breast, and squeezing 
it. 

Debbie's mouth was hanging open. Robby tried to move 
her but she pushed at him with one hand.

"Is there a man in your life sweet Rami?" asked the 
man.

"Of course not." said Ramona. "But there are all kinds 
of people around."

"I locked the door." he said.

"The drapes are gone from the windows." said Ramona.

Debbie couldn't quite get her mind wrapped around the 
conversation. It almost sounded like they were talking 
about... sex. But that couldn't be!

"No one is working on that side of the house. I'm on 
fire for you Rami."

Debbie bit her lip. This man called her mother by a pet 
name. Rami was obviously short for Ramona. Who WAS he? 
Why had he come to their house wearing a fake beard and 
moustache.

"You left me." said her mother, her voice accusing. She 
looked at the briefcase in her hand as if she'd 
forgotten it and set it down. Debbie's unbelieving eyes 
saw her mother's fingers go to the buttons of her white 
blouse and begin unbuttoning them.

"I had to, my sweet." said the man. "I thought I could 
save the world. Only that could have taken me away from 
you."

Ramona unbuttoned her blouse, as if she were alone in 
her own bedroom.

"I cried for you Bobby." said Ramona, pulling the 
blouse apart and out of the waistband of her skirt. She 
bared her lacy white bra to this stranger.

Debbie stepped back again, her hand covering her mouth. 
What her mother was doing made no sense of any kind... 
in any way. It was like watching a dream, that couldn't 
be true, but that you were having anyway, and you 
couldn't make it stop.

Debbie's place was immediately taken by Robby. He 
gasped and his two hands went to the wall, making a 
small sound. He saw his mother turn and look directly 
at him.

"What was that?" she asked.

Robby stared at her flat naked stomach, and the bulging 
bra cups, with their deep cleavage showing milky white 
skin. The man was staring at his mother's breasts too.

"This house makes many noises." said the man. "Seeing 
you again makes me want to make a little noise too."

Robby watched, his brow furrowing, as his mother 
laughed.

"I haven't had a man in a long long time Bobby." she 
said, removing her blouse and folding it neatly. She 
bent over and placed it on top of the briefcase. Then, 
as if it were the most normal thing for his mother to 
do in the whole world, she unclipped and unzipped her 
skirt and bent over, stepping out of it. It joined her 
blouse as she stood before the man in only panties and 
bra.

"Oh sweet baby, I've waited so long too." the man said, 
tearing at his clothes.

Robby watched in stark disbelief as his mother reached 
behind her and the bra fell down her arms to reveal her 
soft breasts. She had brown nipples Robby had never 
seen, or could never remember seeing. They were much 
bigger than Debbie's pink ones, thick, and they looked 
firm, sticking out from her slightly sagging breasts. 
For some crazy reason Robby found himself noticing that 
those nipples didn’t' point straight ahead, like 
Debbie’s did. Instead like eyes with something wrong 
with them, they looked in slightly different 
directions.

Robby's eyes went to the man, who had somehow become 
naked, his penis standing straight out from a fluff of 
brown hair that was as wild as the man's wig had been. 
That penis looked long, but bent. The man was uncut, 
like Robby himself, but he was so hard that the glans 
of his penis pressed forward, like it was trying to 
escape being confined by his foreskin.

"Shit" said Robby under his breath.

"What's happening now?" came Debbie's plaintive soft 
cry.

"They're naked." he whispered.

Debbie shoved him sideways, and he pushed off the wall 
to keep from snagging on one of the upright boards that 
the lath was nailed to.

"Hey!" he whispered loudly.

"I want to SEE!" she whispered back, pressing her face 
to the wall.

Technically, "they" weren't naked yet, since Ramona 
still had on her panties. But Debbie's eyes were drawn 
to that long fleshy lance that was pointing at her 
mother. The only other one she'd ever seen was Robby's, 
and they looked the same and vastly different at the 
same time. Her eyes flicked to her mother, whose 
clothes seemed to have magically vanished since Debbie 
last saw her. Debbie sucked in a breath as her mother 
bent over and slipped her panties off. She stood up, 
holding them hanging off of her index finger, and let 
them fall lightly on top of her folded clothes like she 
had practiced doing that for years.

"You're so beautiful." said the man, stepping toward 
her mother.

"It's been so long." replied her mother.

Then they embraced, and that long thick penis slid 
naturally between her mother's legs as the couple 
kissed what was obviously a kiss in the French way. Her 
mother leaned forward into the man's body, her hands 
pulling him against her. Debbie was numb from the shock 
of what she was seeing. Children never see their 
parents as sexual beings, particularly not with 
complete strangers who are somehow vastly too familiar 
to be strangers. It almost made her head hurt.

Still, the curious girl inside her body wanted to see 
what would happen next. That part of her mind held her 
steady, her eyes staring through the peep holes, while 
another part of her brain railed that this was wrong, 
that she must do something to stop what was happening, 
that the man was not only destroying her house, but he 
was destroying her mother at the same time.

If Ramona was being destroyed, she didn't appear to 
mind much. She broke the kiss and stepped past Smith, 
pulling his hand, leading him to the bed. The mattress 
that had been sagging against the wall when Debbie was 
last here, was now back on the bed.

"I'm sopping wet for you." said Ramona.

Debbie gasped.

She saw her mother lie down on the bare mattress, 
uncaring that there were no sheets on it... that it was 
dusty... and assume what could only be called a pose of 
invitation, her legs spread wide, and her arms 
outstretched.

Smith sank down on her mother and Debbie saw her own 
mother's hand grasp his manly gristle and bring it to 
her pussy lips. She watched in horror as that tip of 
that hard thing penetrated her mother's sex and began 
to slide into her body.

Debbie stepped back a third time, her hands coming up 
to cover her eyes, as Robby crowded in front of her to 
look. He gasped too, because what he saw was the 
opposite. He saw the man on top of his mother, at full 
penetration, drawing slowly out until his penis left 
her, a string of white connecting them, before lowering 
his penis almost tenderly to kiss and then penetrate 
his mother's nether lips again.

There was a duet of moans, clearly heard in the secret 
passageway, of two people enjoying themselves to the 
utmost.

Then, before Robby's unbelieving eyes, Smith fucked his 
mother. There was no other word for what they did. 
Smith lunged and thrust hard, his buttocks clenching 
hard with each thrust, and Ramona's body shook, as if 
with punishment. Robby believed it was rape at first, 
and was ashamed that he was rigid in his own pants, and 
unable to break down the wall to save his mother.

But her hands came to Smith's back and caressed it, 
sliding to his buttocks and, as they clenched for 
another assault on his mother's pussy, her hands 
pulled, digging her fingernails into his ass, clearly 
encouraging the man to plunder her sex.

Now there were grunts from the man and little yips and 
squeals and soft wails from their mother, sounds that 
made heat bloom in Debbie's loins, despite her attempts 
to crush those feelings. And they made Robby's prick 
jerk in his pants and begin to leak. They were the 
sounds of real, live, honest-to-goodness sexual 
intercourse taking place between two people who were 
having a wonderful time engaging in that intercourse.

Decades later, there would be a popular slogan aimed at 
convincing kids not to take drugs, and not to have sex. 
It would be called "Just say no!"

Now, in this time, the sounds the teens could hear 
their mother and this stranger making very clearly said 
"Just say YES!"

Debbie leaned weakly against the wall behind her 
brother. She couldn't watch any more. The sounds were 
more than enough to make her feel helpless. She tugged 
at Robby, but now he brushed her away, staring at the 
tableau before him. Smith was wild now, his buttocks 
rising and falling at an astonishing rate as Ramona 
wrapped her legs around him.

"For you my sweet!" the man roared and he drove in one 
last time and stopped suddenly. His balls went from 
flopping all over the place to hanging straight down in 
that way that only happens when it's very hot. Then 
those balls jumped three times in a row... not much, 
but enough to be noticeable... and the man gave a long 
groan of almost despair. Then he pulled out and began 
to slide in and out of his lover again, slowly, as she 
took up the groan that got louder and higher in pitch 
until it was a whine that sounded like she was in awful 
pain. 

Robby stared as he saw a ring of thick white build up 
around the man's penis where it went into his mother. 
The man had ejaculated in her.

Ramona's whine of release ended in a gasped "I love you 
so much Bobby." as the man collapsed on top of her and 
they were still, except for Ramona's hands, which 
slowly and gently slid all over Smith's back.

"I missed you so much, Rami." came Smith's muffled 
voice.

"Please don't leave me again." came the voice that 
Robby's ears told him was his mother's voice, but which 
he couldn't put with her face. It was just too unreal.

As Robby pulled his eyes away from the holes, Smith 
said "I'll never leave you again, my darling."

=======================================================
=========

How the two teenagers got back to the root cellar they 
could not have told you. One moment it seemed as if 
they were in the dusty secret corridor between rooms, 
and the next they were standing at the bottom of the 
stairs that led up and out of the root cellar into the 
sunshine.

Brother and sister blinked, looking up into the bright 
light. Their emotions were in a turmoil, something they 
should have been used to, perhaps, by now, but they 
were unable to fully process what they'd witnessed. 

As they squinted at the bright light outside, both had 
an unconscious desire to stay in the root cellar, where 
it was safe... where they had hidden from imagined 
perils in the past, and now wanted to hide from 
something that seemed so strange that it felt... 
dangerous. They had lived with their mother for their 
entire lives, but the woman they had seen through the 
peep hole acted nothing like the mother they knew. 

Their mother obviously knew the man from the past some 
time... some place. That much they knew. But the fact 
that he wore a disguise derailed their thinking. Why 
would he do that? Their mother had been expecting the 
brown haired man for dinner. HE was the special guest. 
And the disguise had thrown HER too. 

"What should we do?" whined Debbie, her voice small. 
She felt small in a huge strange world right now, like 
a small mouse who didn't want to expose herself to the 
hawk she knew was drifting on the wind somewhere up in 
that bright sky outside. 

"My penis is hard." said Robby. He felt the need to say 
something, but couldn't think of anything else. 

"What!?" asked his sister, turning to look at him. 

"I got hard watching them." he said, his eyes wide. 
"Having sex." he added unnecessarily. 

Debbie put her hand on the front of her brother's 
shorts. There was a big hard lump there. 

He jumped as he felt her hand on his erection. "What 
are you doing?" he asked. 

"I don't know." she said. 

They were both so confused that even something 
relatively normal for them seemed odd somehow. she took 
her hand away. 

"What should we do?" she asked again. 

"Go home?" suggested Robby. "I don't know what to do." 

"Why would mom do that with... him?" asked Debbie. 

"I don't KNOW." grumped Robby. "She acted like she 
loved him." 

"How could she love him? Where did he come from?" 

"I don't know that either." sighed Robby, remembering 
the way his mother had touched the man... gently... 
lovingly... welcoming him into that intimate embrace. 

"But she DOES love him." he convinced himself. He just 
couldn't understand her actions unless they were based 
on love." 

"Maybe we could talk to her." said Debbie uncertainly. 

"How are we supposed to do that?" scoffed Robby. "What 
do we do? Do we just say - Hey Mom, we happened to see 
you boffing the fuck out of that strange guy who showed 
up at dinner, and we were just sort of wondering why in 
the FUCK you would do THAT?" 

"Don't curse Robby" scolded Debbie automatically. "It's 
vulgar." 

"Let me get this straight." said Robby, turning to her 
full on. "You're upset because I said the word, and 
meanwhile our mother is in there DOING the word!" 

"Well don't yell at ME." she said, getting even more 
upset. "I'm not the one in there on my back with my 
legs spread!" 

That image shocked Robby so much that his mouth opened 
and closed several times, like a goldfish in a bowl. 

"Let's not fight... please" she pleaded. There were 
tears in her eyes, glistening in a shaft of light 
coming from above. 

Robby hugged his sister and she melted against him. 
Once again, their passion for each other insulated them 
from the strange and troubling thing they'd just seen. 
They felt safe holding each other... a sense of 
normalcy. That passion flared in each of them and the 
hug turned into a kiss as they fed on each other's 
emotion. 

Debbie pushed him away. "Let's go home. Mom went there 
on bank business. She'll have to go back to the bank. 
She won't be home until tonight." 


Chapter Five
============

Debbie's unspoken promise about what they'd do when 
they got home spurred Robby and he climbed the steps, 
carefully peeking outside. When he didn't see anything 
he reached for her hand and they bolted up and out of 
their haven. Seconds later they were in the woods and 
running, hand in hand, for the fence. They slipped 
through the fence as if their bodies were greased and 
dashed for the back door. Not stopping they pounded up 
the stairs to Debbie's room, which was the first 
bedroom they came to. They had unconsciously 
transferred their feeling of safe haven from the room 
they could no longer play in, to the next best thing... 
her bedroom, the only other place she felt like she 
owned. 

Then it was more long tongue swapping kisses as they 
fumbled to undress each other. Their routine led them 
to being naked together, on her bed, her hand firmly 
grasping his prick as she stroked him. His fingers 
strummed her clitty and she writhed beside him. She 
bucked her hips, and one of his fingers slipped between 
her plump pussy lips to dip into her. On instinct he 
let his finger go further until she moaned. 

"That hurts." she moaned, but kissed him even more 
vigorously. 

Robby remembered how that the man had sucked at his 
mother's nipples, and he ducked his head to fasten his 
lips around his sister's pink one. She squealed and 
bucked her hips again. His finger felt resistance, but 
he pushed anyway. 

"AHHHHOOOOWWWW" she cried and went rigid, rolling away 
a little, pulling her nipple out of his mouth with a 
"plop". 

Robby knew he had hurt her, and he immediately pulled 
the finger out of her. He looked at it and it was 
stained a dark pink. She was bleeding! 

"Oh baby I'm so sorry." he cried. 

She hushed him, kissing him more now that the pain was 
gone. "It's OK" she said. "I think you ruptured my 
hymen. But I don't care. Kiss me Robby... rub me. I'm 
so close." 

She had never let go of his stiff cock, and she still 
stroked it. He went back to rubbing her bump in little 
circles, but took care not to hurt her again. She made 
happy noises and went stiff again as she came. Robby 
felt his semen begin it's short journey. Because he had 
rolled apart from her when he hurt her, her hand was 
pulling on him as she stroked, and his penis was aimed 
at where his hand still stimulated her. 

His sperm rocketed out and splashed on his fingers. 
That made her even more slippery and he rubbed his 
spunk into her clitty, speeding his fingers back and 
forth as her cum was extended by a follow on orgasm. 
The rest of his spend painted his hand and her mons, 
making her pubic hair a mess of slippery white. Debbie 
let go of his rod and rolled away from him, splaying 
her legs wide, and his fingers slipped down to rub her 
pussy lips, one finger sliding between her swollen 
petals. He rubbed more slowly now... just stroking her, 
knowing her clit would be too sensitive to stimulate 
directly. He stared at her, drinking the beauty of her 
nakedness as her breasts rose and fell rapidly. 

Her head rolled toward him as he lay on his side, and 
she looked at him through her lashes. Then she 
convulsively rolled back toward him and she clutched 
him to her. 

They traded soft words of love, intermingled with more 
sweet soft lipped kisses. 

Finally Debbie rolled to her back, relaxed. "Is this 
what they felt like?" she asked. 

"Maybe." said her brother. 

"I don't understand any of this." she sighed. "But if 
they were doing this... feeling like this... it just 
can't be bad." 

"Yeah." said Robby, surprised that he agreed with her a 
hundred percent. 

"We have to find a way to figure out what's going on." 
said Debbie more firmly. 

"Yeah." said Robby again, still in agreement with his 
sister. 

They got up and cleaned up, and washed the bedspread, 
which had a large wet spot on it. Then they made some 
sandwiches and had a bottle of RC Cola each. It was 
while they were finishing that, sitting at the table, 
that Debbie looked at her brother with calculating 
eyes. 

"I want to do it again." she said. 

Robby didn't have to be told what she wanted to do. 
Just her statement, and the look on her face, had him 
ready in seconds. He stood up, letting his bulge talk 
for him. 

This time Debbie got a towel from the bathroom and 
spread it out where their hips would be. She didn't 
have to explain that either. Silently they stripped, 
watching each other. Debbie lay down first, adjusting 
her position so the towel was where she wanted it. Then 
she looked up at her brother. 

Perhaps his unconscious mind noticed the similarity of 
her place on the bed, and her welcome for him to join 
her, to what they had peeked at in the old house next 
door. Perhaps seeing the sex act he had always heard 
of, but had not been able to envision in his mind 
clearly, affected him. Whatever it was he dripped with 
anticipation for feeling her soft skin against his, and 
hearing her special sighs as she experienced orgasm 
under his fingers. He didn't think of doing to her what 
Smith had done to his mother. That just didn't enter 
his mind. But he lay with her, his heart full and 
groaned as she gripped him and began to stroke him 
again. 

"I love this." she sighed as his fingers found her 
slit, already slippery with her expectation. He rubbed 
at the lips again, liking the feel of their willingness 
to move around under his direction. She gripped him 
tighter as he added the stimulation of suckling at her 
turgid nips, which now protruded from her firm breasts. 
They weren't as big around as her mother's. They didn't 
stick out as much as her mother's, but they pleasured 
her just like her mother had been pleasured. She liked 
this new thing they did too... very much. 

She first felt his penis touch her labia by accident, 
as they moved against each other, kissing and moaning. 
He had moved his fingers to her clit now and was 
playing with it gently, rubbing in the little circles 
he knew she loved. Their lovemaking wasn't as urgent 
this time, though the feelings streaking through her 
loins did cause her to jerk on him more forcefully. And 
it was that which bought the tip of his penis in 
contact with her pussy lips, just below where his 
fingers stroked. 

When it happened she noticed it mostly because it felt 
so different from fingers. That head was smooth and 
wide, it's plumb shape mooshing between her lips and 
spreading them more than a finger would have. She 
pulled at him, getting that contact again, swabbing his 
glans through her dripping pussy lips. She wasn't 
trying to get it in her. She too had not yet arrived at 
the thought of that possibility. It just felt good to 
do... so she did it. 

It felt good to Robby too. Heat surrounded and kissed 
the tip of his drippy cock, and he felt that wonderful 
soothing stuff ooze out of him. She moaned into his 
lips and suddenly that ooze turned into a rush of hot 
fluid as his semen bathed her pussy mouth. He grunted 
with the surprise of it. He hadn't felt it coming this 
time for some reason. 

Debbie felt that hot rush directly in her pussy mouth. 
It was completely different than feeling it on the hair 
that grew down there. It was warmer somehow. It felt 
fabulous. She kept sliding the spurting thing through 
her vulva as it gave her more and more of that fabulous 
feeling. She could feel his cock begin to soften almost 
immediately in her hand, and she squeezed it, not in 
any attempt to milk it of it's nectar, but just because 
it felt good to squeeze as it softened. Something in 
her brain told her it would be OK now, now that he was 
finished, to roll back and spread her legs so he could 
do what he'd done before. She did, opening herself to 
his fingers and he began to rub all through the 
slippery mess with the flat of his hand. 

Her hips arched up, wanting more than just that flat 
hand, and her hand went to his... on top of his. When 
she did this to herself she slipped her finger into her 
sex. When she did that it didn't hurt, exactly, though 
there had been warning tinges of pain in the past. His 
finger had hurt her, but it was much larger than her 
own. She wanted to feel her finger in her pussy, and 
she pressed with her middle finger, trying to slip it 
between his. 

Instead she pushed his finger into her split. 

Robby felt her push at his finger and let it slide 
deeper into her. She tensed, but didn't cry out this 
time. He went deeper, gently and slowly, sliding the 
finger around in liquid, slippery heat. 

"Does it hurt?" he asked in her ear. 

"Noooooooodon'tstop" she ran her words together as her 
hips arched again. "Feels gooood" she moaned. 

He went deeper and then she sucked air and winced as 
the thickest part of his finger scraped her now torn 
cherry. 

"Ahhhhhhh" she moaned, but her hand held his there. 
"Don't stop." she said clearly. 

"I'm hurting you." he said. 

"Noooooo" she lied. Her orgasm was so close she felt 
like she could reach out and touch it. It did hurt, but 
only a little, and the deeper he went the better it 
felt. 

"Move it" she demanded. Her hand left his and went to 
his head, pulling him to her breast. "Suck!" 

Robby took her nipple and sucked at the same time he 
withdrew his sperm-slicked finger from her pussy and 
pushed it back in. It squelched noisily, making wet 
slurping sounds as it slicked through his sperm. It 
squeezed that residual sperm into her and out of her at 
the same time. He pulled on it again, and the base of 
his hand scraped across her clit. 

She exploded in a wail of ecstasy, her hips coming up 
off the towel in a convulsive leap as the orgasm 
blinded her temporarily. She didn't care and closed her 
eyes tightly, seeing bright spots in the darkness, her 
mind paying attention only to the thick thing that was 
plundering her pussy and the streaks of mad joy that 
bounced back and forth from her loins to the nipple he 
was suckling. 

Her wild movements required Robby to dig in with his 
finger, to keep from losing contact with her and that 
only intensified her feeling. She shrieked, an 
anguished cry of joy that sounded to Robby like she was 
dying. In panic he jerked his finger out of her and her 
shriek changed to a wail as the wonderful feeling in 
her pussy went away. Her own hand flashed to her loins 
and she shoved her middle finger into herself, jerking 
it madly, punishing her clit through the rest of her 
cum. 

She felt every muscle in her body tense up and then it 
was over. She flopped back to the bed, limp, her hand 
falling at her side and gasped for air. 

"Deb? Are you OK?" asked a very concerned Robby. 

"I've... never... been... better." she panted. "That... 
was... fantastic." 

"It sounded like I was killing you." he said, unsure of 
what to believe. 

"You can... kill me like that... every day." she 
rasped, her throat dry from all her deep and rapid 
breathing. 

"So it didn't hurt... like before?" he asked. 

She nodded. "A little... but not so bad. Felt good." 
she said. "Except you took your finger out way too 
soon."

Eventually, the two teens used up all the nervous 
energy the things they'd seen had fired in them. They 
got up, cleaned up again, and again got something to 
eat. As they sat at the table, munching on grilled 
cheese sandwiches, the subject that was on both of 
their minds finally found words.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Debbie.

"I don't know. It's all so strange and weird." 
commented Robby.

"I want to yell at her... scream at her." said Debbie, 
but without the anger that would have made it sound 
like such actions were imminent.

"We can't do that." said Robby, pragmatically.

"She's hiding something." said Debbie.

"Well gee," chuckled her brother. "When did you figure 
that out?"

She shot him a dark look.

"Why would she do that with a complete stranger?" 
wondered the girl.

"Come on Deb," said Robby. "Obviously she knows him 
from somewhere. He's NOT a stranger."

"But why would she hide it? And why would she let him 
do that to our place?" complained Debbie.

"Deb, she doesn't KNOW it's our place." said Robby with 
infuriating sense.

"OK, then, we'll TELL her it's our place!" said Debbie, 
getting mad again.

"And she's just going to say "Gee, kids, I didn't know 
that. I'll get right over there and tell the bad man to 
get out." You really think she'll just say that keeping 
that little secret from her for years and years is just 
fine?" Robby sometimes had a way of making Debbie feel 
stupid, even though she was quite sure she was the 
smarter twin.

"But..." Debbie started to yell.

"LOOK!" he yelled first. "She's never done anything 
that wasn't for our own good." he said insistently. 
"You know she loves us. There has to be some 
explanation for all this. We just have to figure out 
how to get her to tell us."

Debbie sulked. "I don't think I like you very much." 
she said sourly.

"I know." he said, making his voice sound obviously too 
sad for the situation. "I could tell a little while ago 
when you were telling me to squirt all over your... 
pussy."

His use of that word, a word that, if not taboo, was 
completely naughty, and not a word either of them felt 
comfortable using in normal conversation, was like a 
slap in the face to Debbie. Anger flared in her, but it 
was because he was poking holes in all her statements. 
She stood up.

"I'm going over to Angie's house. I'll be home for 
supper." She tried to frown, to let Robby know she was 
mad. 

He just looked at her. He was afraid if he said 
anything else it would only drive her further away from 
him. 

Both kids were home when Ramona walked in that night. 
She had a lot on her mind, which was probably why she 
didn't sense the slight air of tension in the house. 
When she had returned to work, and had sat down at her 
new desk, a perk of having been assigned to work with 
the representative of the eccentric and mysterious 
Nettleton who owned the mansion, the first thing she 
had thought of was the heavy weight of her brother's 
sperm in her womb as she sat. Her feelings for her 
brother had been forced into a dark corner in her mind 
for a long time, but she wasn't surprised when they 
flooded out of that corner to drown her in their 
passion and intensity. She had always loved Robert in a 
special way that no other man could match. 

She had known, when they were young, that what they did 
was not acceptable to normal people. She had known that 
there was significant danger if their love produced any 
attention... especially if that attention came as the 
result of her belly swelling with his child.

After he had gone, though, she wished more than 
anything in the world that he had left her pregnant. 
She missed him so much that she had dreamed every night 
that his seed had taken hold in her, and that she would 
have something of him to hold and cherish and love. 
When her next period had come, announcing that her 
dream was not to come true, she had cried even more 
bitterly.

She had adjusted. And when Richard had died it had been 
the memory of getting through the loss of her brother's 
presence and all that she missed so much, that had 
helped her decide to keep living then. That was when 
she had been able to finally put her brother's memories 
to rest, hidden in that corner of her mind. She had 
centered on her children, and had used their raising as 
a crutch to help her walk through life until she had 
healed enough to stand on her own again.

Now, suddenly, Robert was back. The affect on her was 
almost as traumatic as his leave-taking had been. As 
she sat, feeling his essence lying in her womb, shivers 
of ecstasy flowed through her veins. She was so happy 
she felt brittle, as if she could break into a thousand 
pieces if she weren't careful. 

There were too many things to think about, and her mind 
flitted from one to the other too quickly to stop and 
actually think about each one. That he still loved her 
was obvious, but what did that love mean? How would it 
affect her life? What would he expect from her? How 
would she tell her children about him? What did the 
renovation of her family home mean in her life? She 
realized with true irony that she could almost feel the 
ghosts of her parents hovering over her, whispering to 
her, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. Did 
they approve? Were their spirits enraged that she would 
lie with her own brother. What if she got pregnant now? 
Did she want to prevent such a pregnancy? She knew she 
would go to Robert again... and again... for as long as 
he would take her naked body into his arms. She knew in 
the center of her being that she could never deny him. 
What did THAT mean to her life?

She did her work mechanically, her practiced financial 
eye reviewing documents, flagging ones that looked 
questionable for reasons she couldn't identify at that 
moment, but which she knew would yield their secrets 
later, when she was more settled. Her competence was 
automatic, unthinking, as she shuffled papers, her mind 
a whirl of unresolved issues.

It had taken a co-worker touching her shoulder, nodding 
at the lights going out all over the bank, to bring her 
back to the real world completely. She blushed at the 
woman's questioning look.

"I guess I was preoccupied with all this." she said, 
indicating the pile of invoices and bills on her desk.

"You'll get used to it." said the woman.

That social contact had let Ramona think of things 
other than the rambling questions in her head, and she 
had concentrated on traffic to keep her mind off of 
things until she had passed the now open iron gates of 
her ancestral home. When she parked and went into the 
house, the uppermost thing in her mind was what, if 
anything, to tell her children. She had to begin, 
somehow, to prepare them for learning that they had an 
uncle they knew nothing about.

Ramona started the car and then, like some demented 
magic, the next thing she realized she was putting the 
car in park in her own driveway. She didn't remember a 
single thing about the drive home.


Chapter Six
===========

"I'm home." Ramona sang automatically when she dropped 
her purse and keys on the sideboard in the hall.

"Hey!" came Robby's deep voice from the living room. 
She heard nothing from Debbie and assumed she must be 
in her room, or someplace it was hard to hear.

Ramona sought refuge in the rituals of preparing dinner 
for her family. The questions came back to her as she 
handled pots and pans and dishes.

"So" came the sudden voice of Debbie behind her. "How 
was work today?"

Ramona looked at her daughter, but didn't notice the 
tense set of Debbie's shoulders.

"Fine" she said automatically.

"Nothing... interesting happened then?" pressed Debbie.

Ramona, thinking that finally she had something to talk 
about, said "Well, they gave me a new job. They put me 
in charge of taking care of all the financial documents 
associated with the renovation next door."

The silence this was met with penetrated Ramona's 
awareness. She'd forgotten how upset Debbie was about 
that renovation. She turned to see Debbie on the balls 
of her feet, leaning forward slightly.

"I know you don't like what's going on over there." 
said Ramona. "But what's happening is happening. Rob... 
Mr. Nettleton has a lot of money in the bank, and they 
want to keep him happy as a customer."

Debbie had pushed intentionally, trying to get her 
mother to be forthcoming with information. It hadn't 
worked, but that misspoken name was something she could 
press.

"What does Robby have to do with that?" she asked.

"What?" asked Ramona, confused.

"You said Robby... before you said Mister Nettleton. 
What does Robby have to do with that?"

Ramona was flustered. Debbie was acting almost hostile 
toward her. Surely she didn't blame her mother for 
being assigned to the Nettleton accounts. 

"Robby doesn't have anything to do with it." she said 
guardedly. I don't think you heard me correctly."

"I think you need to tell me what's going on." said 
Debbie, her voice full of accusation and an 
authoritative tone.

Ramona, unused to her daughter taking that tone with 
her, and at the end of her emotional rope to begin 
with, snapped.

"No, Debbie, I think YOU need to tell ME what's going 
on! Why are you so intent that nothing should happen to 
that house? Why is it any of your BUSINESS what happens 
in that house? I want some answers young lady and I 
WANT THEM NOW!"

Ramona's face was red and puffy as she shouted. 
Debbie's face got that way almost instantly too. Both 
women started screaming at each other, their hands 
gastrulating wildly. Debbie screamed demands to know 
why Ramona had "done that" with that horrible man and 
why their mother was lying to them. Ramona screamed 
that she had happiness within her grasp and that it was 
obvious that Debbie didn't want her to have that. It 
was fortunate for both that they were yelling so loudly 
that neither could understand the other. 

Robby appeared as if by magic between them, a hand held 
out palm first to each snarling woman.

"HEY... HEY!!" he shouted, his voice drowning out both 
of them. 

The women subsided, both panting, their faces 
remarkably similar in appearance, and not pleasant to 
look at, for all that each woman was normally 
beautiful.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT DOOR!" he 
shouted, to keep them from starting up again, but then 
dropped his voice. "Whatever it is, shouting at each 
other won't help anything." 

He looked first at his sister and then turned his head 
to look at his mother, his hands still up.

"And whatever it is shouldn't come between us as a 
family." he said firmly. "Mom... what's for dinner?" he 
asked inanely. It was a bald faced attempt to change 
the subject.

Ramona realized with a flush of embarrassment that she 
had no idea what she'd been preparing. She looked at 
the counter in confusion. "I don't know." she said 
weakly. When she saw the chicken on the counter she 
said "Fried chicken." Her eyes went to the stove, at 
the pan of water boiling there, and the potatoes in it. 
"And mashed potatoes." she added.

"OK then." said Robby, as if something momentous had 
been resolved. "I'm starving."

Debbie took a shuddering breath. She, like her mother, 
had a lot on her mind too. She knew what she had 
screamed, but her mother didn't appear to have actually 
heard her. She felt her mind twist slightly in her head 
as she recognized that the fact that her mother was 
acting so oddly had to mean that something powerful was 
going on. She felt a rush of shame for screaming. Robby 
was right about that. As much as she loved that old 
house, it wasn't worth driving her mother away from 
her. Whatever was going on must be awfully important to 
her mother for her to act this way. And, though she 
didn't understand it, she suddenly knew that somehow, 
it would all make sense eventually. She still itched to 
get answers to her questions, but she also knew that 
she'd have to be patient to get them.
 
She hoped she could make herself find that patience.

"I'm sorry." she said suddenly. She looked at her 
mother with an unspoken pleading in her eyes.

"Me too." said Ramona. "I have a lot on my mind. I 
shouldn't have yelled at you. None of this is your 
fault."

Robby gave a silent sigh of relief as the two women 
rushed together and hugged. He watched in confusion as 
both of them started crying and apologizing even more. 
He decided that women were even stranger than he had 
suspected.

"I'm starving over here." he complained, rubbing his 
stomach.

"Then get a can of green beans and put them on the 
stove." said his mother tearfully. "Do you expect me to 
do EVERYTHING for you?"

Robby signed again, this time audibly, and went to the 
pantry.

There was still tension during supper, but it was 
manageable. All three family members tried to make idle 
conversation, but it all fell flat. Finally Ramona put 
down her fork, wiped the corners of her mouth with her 
napkin and settled her gaze on her daughter.

"I'm just going to say something. I don't want to talk 
about it right now. You seem to have some emotional 
involvement with that house that I don't understand. So 
let me just say this and I want you to think about it 
before you say anything back... both of you." she said, 
turning her eyes to her son. "OK?"

Both teens nodded. There was a sinking sensation in 
Debbie's stomach.

"OK," said their mother. "That property is owned by 
Robert Nettleton. It has been for years. He was 
overseas for a long time, but now he wants to come back 
and live there. It's his house. He's very rich and he 
has his money in the bank... where I work. They want me 
to take care of his financial needs... pay his bills 
and things like that. I can't turn that down. It's not 
exactly a promotion, but it pays better than just being 
a teller. If I do a good job it may lead to more 
assignments like this. So, even though I know you two 
don't want anything to happen next door, I have to do 
this. That's what I want you to understand. I'm not 
doing this to hurt you or anything like that. Do you 
understand?"

"Can I ask one question?" probed Debbie, unable to find 
the patience she had reminded herself to look for.

"Yes, as long as you understand I may not be able to 
answer it." said her mother. 

"Why couldn't you answer it?" asked Debbie.

Ramona struggled in her mind, choosing her words 
carefully. "There are some... complications... things I 
can't talk about right now."

'I just bet there are!' thought Debbie to herself. She 
decided to push just a little. 

"When you fixed dinner last night it was obvious that 
mister Smith is... important. Why is he so important?"

Ramona had been semi-prepared for several questions. 
Questions about "Mister Smith" weren't in that number. 
She was too long in answering, and didn't have time to 
think about her answer carefully.

"He's Robert Nettleton's representative." she said. 
"He's important to the bank."

Debbie's stomach flip-flopped. Her mother had told her 
an outright lie. Or at least part of it was an outright 
lie. He might be the owner's representative, but that 
wasn't why he was so important. That much had been made 
perfectly clear through the peep hole that very day.

"Right." said Debbie tightly. It was obvious she didn't 
like that answer.

"Debbie..." warned her brother.

"I'm not going to shout." she said to him.

Ramona knew something was wrong... that her answer had 
been in error some way. But the kids couldn't possibly 
know who "Mister Smith" really was. It was impossible. 
Her confusion prevented her from pursuing the subject 
with her daughter, who suddenly looked hostile again.

"I have to deal with him at the bank." said Ramona, 
trying to salvage something without knowing how. "I 
just wanted him to feel welcome."

"Oh I'm sure he feels VERY welcome." said Debbie 
tightly. Her brother's hand suddenly gripped her knee 
under the table... painfully. She tried to push it 
away, but he was too strong. He did let off the 
pressure, but kept his hand there in unspoken warning.

Debbie, unable to control herself, pushed more. "Maybe 
you should take him a plate tonight. I'm sure he'd feel 
more WELCOME." 

Unknown to Debbie, that suggestion drove straight into 
Ramona's brain. She COULD take him a plate of food. It 
would be a perfect way to see him again, privately. Her 
daughter's tone of voice was nudged out of her 
consciousness.

"That's a good idea." she said. Both children saw a 
sparkle come into her eye and were mildly astonished. 
"That's a very good idea." said their mother, smiling 
for the first time that night. "It would be very 
neighborly!"

To her children's further astonishment she stood up, 
forgetting her own food and bustling about making up a 
plate.

"I'll just take this over now, and see how he's doing." 
Ramona's eyes had a far away look in them now, as if 
she weren't paying attention to what she was doing. 

Their mother's behavior was so bizarre that it struck 
her children in a way that impressed on them just HOW 
important this man was. That she would abandoned her 
dinner and her children... just like that... was 
something that spoke volumes to them. It penetrated 
their own brains in a way that nothing else had, even 
watching their mother have sex. As the door closed 
behind her, they looked at each other.

"Can you believe that?" asked Robby.

"Who IS this guy?" asked Debbie, wonder in her voice.

There was unspoken agreement between the teens to spy 
again. They didn't finish their dinner either, standing 
up and heading for the back door as if they had planned 
this all along. They stayed silent as they ghosted from 
tree to tree toward the house. Robby exclaimed at how 
different the outside looked. Repairs and paint just on 
the parts of the back side of the house made it look 
completely different. His sister pulled at his sleeve 
to get him to move on. They made just a cursory 
examination of the back of the house. Their mother 
would have drawn attention to the front part. They 
strode almost calmly to the entrance of the root cellar 
and slipped down into the dark.

Again they had left without thinking about light, but 
they fumbled in the dark only a little, finding the 
hidden catch for the shelf-door and stepping into the 
tunnel. They counted steps, stopping a foot from the 
door to the stairwell and pulled on the ring to open it 
slowly. The hinges still squealed a little and they 
left the door open to avoid making the hinges squeal 
again.

Tiptoeing straight to the peep hole for the master 
bedroom, Debbie got there first and pressed her face to 
the holes.

The room was empty.

She turned and whispered "They're not in there."

They scurried from spy hole to spy hole, trying to 
locate the adults. It was Robby who saw part of a man's 
body disappearing from view toward the grand staircase. 
Moving back to the master bedroom they waited, but no 
one appeared. They could both hear voices from lower in 
the house.

Debbie cupper her hands to her brother's ear. "You wait 
here. I'll go back and see if I can find them." He 
nodded, peering into the room.

Debbie found them in the formal dining room. Smith 
didn't have on his disguise, and was sitting at the 
head of a table that would have seated twenty-four 
comfortably. Her mother sat next to him. He was eating 
calmly. She thought to go get her brother, but they 
were talking and she wanted to hear. Losing vision, she 
pressed her ear to a hole.

"... acting so strangely about this whole thing." she 
heard her mother say.

"It will only be another week or two before we can tell 
them." said the man around a mouthful of chicken. "This 
is delicious Rami."

"Thank you." said Ramona automatically. "I don't know 
if I can put them off for another week." she said.

"If you think they can keep quiet about it then tell 
them now." said the man.

"Bobby, they're just kids. They're smart kids. They 
started second grade when they were six because they 
already knew everything that first grade had to teach 
them. But they're still kids. This is going to turn 
their world upside down."

Debbie agreed with that evaluation of things already. 
She took time to peek, but nothing had changed. She put 
her ear back to the wall.

"...expect them to take it in stride. Why didn't you 
tell them a long time ago?" She only heard part of the 
statement and question, but Debbie knew it had to do 
with telling her and Robby what was going on.

"I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." said Ramona. 
"You were gone so long, and in so many dangerous 
places. I dreaded any kind of special mail, for fear it 
world be notification that you were dead."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell them about 
me. You could have told them about me even if I HAD 
died, Rami."

"Yes, but then I'd have had to tell them who they are. 
They're good kids Bobby. They're smart and talented and 
I don't want this to change that. You know what it can 
mean to be who we are."

It was silent and Debbie darted a look. Smith had 
stopped eating and was putting his fork down. She 
pressed her ear to the hole.

"Ramona, it didn't ruin you. It didn't ruin me either. 
There's nothing wrong with who we are. Why do you think 
it would hurt them to know who THEY are?"

Her mother was silent for a moment. "There's so much 
pain, Bobby."

Debbie stole a peek again, and could hear Smith faintly 
speak.

"Not for them." he countered. "That's our pain, my 
darling. They can never feel that pain like we have." 
He reached for her hand. "Was there pain this morning?"

Debbie watched her mother's smile bloom. She wanted to 
hear better, but the sight of her mother's joyous face 
kept her eyes glued on the couple.

"No, it was wonderful. You KNOW how wonderful it was." 
Debbie watched her mother lift Smith's hand and kiss 
his fingertips.

"Did you really come just to bring me this fine meal?" 
asked the man, moving his fingers to caress Ramona's 
face.

Debbie saw her mother's face take on a look she had 
never seen there. A look of sensuality... of desire... 
like only the very best movie stars could re-create on 
film.

"No." she said.

"Ah, then, my fine meal is finished. Perhaps you 
brought me dessert? My tongue still wishes for some 
sweet syrup to finish the meal properly."

"My children will wonder why it takes me so long." said 
Ramona wistfully.

"Will they come to this haunted place to find you?"

She shook her head firmly. "They'd never come here. No 
one comes here. I know what you think, but it's not my 
children who have been coming here." Then she tilted 
her head, like she was studying the man. "But I came 
here. I'm here now."

Debbie watched as her mother stood and Smith pushed his 
plate out of the way. They embraced, their hands 
sliding all over each other's bodies. The girl felt a 
thrill of unwelcome heat in her loins. She couldn't get 
used to seeing her mother as a sexual being. And she 
was so unashamed about it!

"I want to taste you." said the man.

"Here?" laughed Ramona.

"What better place for dessert?" he said, lifting her 
by the waist and sitting her on the end of the table.

"You're horrible. My daughter was right! You're a 
horrible man!" laughed Ramona. But she scooted back on 
the table and leaned backwards, supporting her upper 
torso with her arms behind her.

Ramona was still dressed for work, in a sensible summer 
dress that buttoned up the front. It was white, and 
covered with a riot of colorful flowers that spilled 
across it in a swath that left one shoulder and parts 
of the skirt plain white. Debbie's mouth dropped open 
as her mother drew her knees up to her chest and then 
let them fall apart, spreading the skirt. Smith's hands 
lifted the hem and Debbie could see her mother had worn 
knee high stockings.

Just then Robby came up behind his sister and 
whispered, startling her.

"I thought you were coming back to get me." he hissed.

Debbie jumped and her forehead thumped the wall.

"Shhhh" she went and peered back through the peep 
holes. She was just in time to see Smith's head turning 
back to her mother. He kept lifting her mother's skirt, 
clear up to her waist, exposing her panties.

The dining room had multiple peep holes, as opposed to 
just one set, like most other rooms had, and Robby was 
able to use a set that were slightly higher than the 
ones that were comfortable for Debbie to use. He looked 
and stifled a gasp as he saw Smith's hands slide down 
the outsides of his mother's thighs to grip her 
panties. He held his breath as his mother lifted her 
buttocks up off the table - what was she doing on the 
table? - and held it longer as Smith slid the panties 
up his mother's thighs until she had to bring her knees 
back together to let him slide them past them. Her 
knees fell back open, though, as he pulled the garment 
off her feet, working it over her shoes, which were 
still on. Smith stared at the woman's pussy, glistening 
in the light.

The fact there was light intruded upon Robby's 
consciousness and he realized that electricity had been 
installed. At least in this room. He couldn't see the 
light source, but it was good enough that he could see 
a sparkle, as of drops of ice or something, on the 
light fur that was between his mother's legs.

"What are they doing?" he whispered to his sister. Her 
hand waved at him and again all she said was "Shhhh." 
Her eyes were glued to her set of peep holes.

Both teens watched in stark disbelief as the man bent 
and began kissing the insides of their mother's legs, 
starting at the knees, and changing legs from time to 
time. His head got in the way, but it was obvious when 
he could go no further. Their mother's head dropped 
back, as if she were staring at the ceiling and a low 
moan came ripping out of her throat.

Both kids had heard of oral sex, of course, and knew 
other teens who claimed to have engaged in it. But that 
was a scenario that neither Robby nor Debbie had 
actually been able to quite believe was, in fact, real. 
It was like a legend that was fun to believe in, but 
not quite really believable. That their straight-laced 
mother not only allowed it, but obviously was 
enraptured by this, caused in them feelings that, 
before this, they would have explored in this very 
house, up in the girl's bedroom.

"Mmmmmmm Bobby, I'd forgotten how wonderful that is." 
moaned Ramona. Her voice was clearly audible through 
the plastered walls.

Smith pulled away from their mother's sex, leaning 
back. "Your husband did not do this for you?"

One of Ramona's hands lifted from behind her and 
reached for the man's head. She had to lean forward, 
but she grabbed his brown hair and pulled him back 
toward her.

"Don't talk." she commanded.

He leaned forward and the teens saw her lift her 
buttocks up off the table to push her pussy into his 
face as he regained contact. As he slurped - the only 
word they could envision for the sounds coming through 
the wall - his hands went to their mother's breasts, 
fumbling with her buttons, undoing her dress. He pushed 
her bra up off her breasts and began squeezing and 
pulling at her distended, dark nipples.

"AHHHHHHH" she groaned, part pain, mostly ecstasy. "I 
wish you had two mouths you beast." She pushed at his 
face again. "Just a little longer. 
Uhhhhnnnnggggggeeeeeeeeeee" she squealed, obviously 
having an orgasm as the man's face moved in between her 
thighs and his fingers punished her nipples.

When her cries died away Smith stood and his hands went 
to his belt.

"I have something that will take the place of one 
mouth." he announced.

If the twins had been astonished before, they were 
speechless as they saw their mother scoot across the 
table toward the man.

"My turn for dessert." she panted.

Smith pushed his pants down as their mother slid off 
the table, her skirt falling back to its normal place. 
She knelt in front of the man and the teens both gasped 
as she clearly took his erect phallus into her mouth. 
Her cheeks caved in as she sucked greedily.

Now it was Smith who looked at the ceiling, his hands 
on his hips.

"Ahhhhh sweet Rami" he groaned.

Ramona obviously loved what she was sucking. She too 
made wet slurping noises as her lips moved all along 
the thick stalk that protruded from dark curly hair 
above a large full looking sack.

Debbie's loins were hot now. Seeing this completely 
impossible behavior on the part of her mother caused 
her brain to disconnect with the fact that it WAS her 
mother. As if she were watching two strangers, she felt 
her own pussy get wet enough to make those same noises 
she was hearing. Her hand went to her shorts and she 
unbuttoned them, slipping her hand into them to find 
her pussy was sopping. She stuck a finger in herself 
and curled it, pulling up to put pressure on her 
clitty. She couldn't stifle a little moan.

Robby was having his own difficulties dealing with what 
he was seeing. He had less problem with his mother's 
behavior, perhaps because most men want every woman to 
look and act like she loves sex. He was hard as rock, 
though, and wasn't sure he should be. His sister's moan 
caused him to glance at her and notice where her hand 
was. Feeling unaccountably better, he unzipped himself 
and hauled out his stiff prick. His hand stroked it as 
he peered through the spy holes again.

"Rami, my sweet, I'm about to explode." groaned Smith.

Ramona's actions left no doubt that if he did so in her 
mouth she would not complain.

"Not in your mouth my darling, please." he pleaded.

Ramona left off sucking him instantly and jumped 
backwards to land on the end of the table again, 
leaning back as she had before. She lifted her legs, 
spreading them and Smith, obviously delighted, 
supported her legs with his hands while he waded 
between her thighs. He had to let go of one leg and 
reach between them, but they he surged toward her as 
she cried out in ecstasy.

"This is where I love to plant my seed." he said 
gruffly.

"Yes!" exhorted the mother of the stunned teens.

"I always wished I could have made a little baby inside 
you my sweet." panted the man as he began thrusting 
hard into their mother.

"I wanted your child" she cried out.

"Do you still?" he rasped.

"YES!" screamed Ramona.

With that scream of assent, Robby's semen splattered 
the wall. Debbie heard his grunts of release and she 
had to squat as her pussy finally gave her the relief 
of sweet orgasm.

Inside the dining room, Robert Nettleton leaned into 
his sister and delivered his seed into her fertile 
garden, gasping with the force of his release, hoping 
that he really was creating life in her womb. Some dim 
part of his mind knew that was an insane thing to wish 
for, but he didn't care.

Neither did Ramona.

=================================================

Robby and Debbie, however, cared very much whether this 
strange mysterious man from their mother's past got her 
with child. While what they had seen was erotic in the 
extreme, and stimulated their own sexual desires, the 
thought of their mother having a baby by this man was 
something that did not appeal to them. On this, they 
agreed, discussing it in the root cellar and in the 
woods and even in the back yard as they tried to get 
home before their mother did.

What they could not agree on was what they were going 
to be able to do about it. They returned to their 
separate rooms to fret and think.

Debbie's primary thoughts were about how her mother had 
lied to her. She was not aware of any time in her short 
life when her mother had intentionally lied to her 
about something. She was old enough to realize that, 
whatever her mother was hiding, it was important to 
Ramona. At the same time, Debbie knew that when SHE 
lied - and she had lied her fair share of times, to a 
number of people - that it was to cover up something 
she was ashamed of, or would get in trouble for. Debbie 
was, therefore, very upset about the lie. In a strange 
way she was more upset about the lie than she was about 
her mother acting like a slut with a complete stranger. 
But that seemed wrong too. It was obvious he wasn't a 
complete stranger... not to her mother.

Debbie heard the door slam downstairs. Her mother was 
back... back from her wild sex party with the man next 
door. Curiosity drove Debbie out of her room. She found 
her mother in the kitchen, washing up the plate she had 
taken next door. She was... humming.


Chapter Seven
=============

Debbie's natural curiosity was made more firm by her 
unwillingness to accept that her mother had lied to 
her. Other than the fact that she and Robby had played 
at the Nettleton Manor for years, and that they were 
sexually involved with each other, were bit secrets. 
But those were the only secrets Debbie had from her 
mother. She couldn't understand how her mother could be 
this other woman, and that Debbie had never been able 
to see even a glimpse of tht woman.

"Mom?" began Debbie tentatively.'

"Hmmmm?" responded Ramona, her mind still on what had 
just happened.

"Tell me about your boyfriends." said Debbie.

Ramona turned and looked at her daughter. "Whatever do 
you mean? I don't have any boyfriends."

Debbie pushed the fresh sprout of her anger down and 
tried to be patient. "I mean when you were my age." she 
clarified.

Ramona knew her daughter well enough to see that she 
was uncomfortable... distant somehow. They had always 
been loving and close. Was Debbie interested in a boy? 
That might explain her behavior recently... her fits of 
anger. And, even though Debbie's recent outbursts had 
seemed to be tied to the Nettleton mansion, Ramona knew 
that... hormones... could intrude into life in the most 
unlikely ways.

"Are you interested in a boy?" she asked her daughter.

Debbie's first instinct was to deny that with a laugh. 
There were boys who interested her, but not as 
boyfriend material. She wasn't driven by hormones to 
seek males. She was quite satisfied with what she and 
her brother did in that way. But still, boys were... 
interesting. And if saying she was interested in a boy 
would get her mother talking, then fine.

"Sort of." she said vaguely. "I've never had a real 
boyfriend."

Ramona sighed. Life at this stage of growing up was so 
hard. She hated the thought of her daughter going 
through what she had gone through as a girl. But she 
knew it had to happen. She hoped it didn't have to 
happen in quite the same way it had to her. It never 
occurred to her that her son and daughter might have 
the same kind of relationship she had had with HER 
brother. THAT relationship had been born of the kind of 
pain and loneliness that her children had never had to 
face.

"Well, sweetheart, I'm not sure I'll be much help to 
you. I didn't have many boyfriends until I met your 
father." she said.

"Tell me about them." urged Debbie.

Ramona sat down at the table, where her unfinished 
plate of food still sat. She took a sip of her tea, but 
left the food alone.

"Golly," she said, her eyes going unfocused. "There 
isn't all that much to tell. There was a boy named 
George, when I was twelve. He was nice to me and I kind 
of thought of him as a boyfriend. We couldn't date or 
anything like that, of course."

"How about when you were older... my age?" asked 
Debbie.

Ramona didn't know how to answer that question. Her 
"boyfriend" then had been Robert. Her guardian hadn't 
allowed her to date, and boys didn't come to visit at 
the house where the waifs lived. There had been boys 
who showed interest in her, but the whispers of girls 
her age told her that all they wanted was what she and 
Robert did in the dark of night, and she wasn't 
interested in doing that with anyone except Robert. 
What she had with her brother was precious and special.

But she couldn't tell her daughter about THAT!

"I guess I didn't really have a boyfriend until I went 
to college and met your father." she said.

The anger swelled again in the pit of Debbie's gut. 
Another lie. 

"No other boy kissed you until you met Daddy?" she 
asked, her voice tight.

There was a slippery slope here for Ramona. Another boy 
HAD kissed her, and done a lot more than that before 
she met Richard. But that boy was Robert, and she 
couldn't tell her daughter about THAT. She avoided the 
question by asking one of her own.

"Has a boy tried to kiss you?"

"You didn't answer my question Mom." continued Debbie. 
"Why won't you answer my question?"

Ramona's reaction to her daughter's interrogation was 
one of fear. Had someone in the community been telling 
her children stories of Ramona's past? There were still 
a few people around who had lived in Nettleton and 
might have known Ramona when she was a ward. She hadn't 
worried about them because she had tried to be so 
invisible before she went to college. And, when she 
came back to Nettleton with a husband and a baby in her 
womb, she had thought people would forget her past. 
Only the oldest people in town might remember that she 
was the sad little Nettleton girl who changed her name. 
Was it possible that the renovation of the mansion had 
brought out old dusty memories... and idle chatter 
about the past?

"Who have you been talking to?" she asked.

Now it was Debbie who had to be careful. Any 
information she divulged about what she now knew about 
her mother had to appear to have come from some source 
that couldn't be questioned.

"Nobody" she said tersely. "It's just that everybody 
has a boyfriend. Everybody has a first kiss. It's just 
how things happen. I just wanted to know what that was 
like for you."

Ramona thought about what kind of emotions Debbie might 
be feeling at her age. She didn't have a good frame of 
reference to think about that, because her own 
childhood had been anything but normal. Still, she knew 
how it felt to be in love... to want a man's touch... 
to want to do things with a man, even if that man had 
been her brother when she was Debbie's age.

"Sit down, Darling." she said, pointing to a chair. 

Debbie hesitated, but then sat. 

"Sweetheart, a girl at your age has feelings that are 
very strong sometimes. It's normal for her to be 
curious about boys and what it would be like to... kiss 
them. That seems like a long time ago, when I felt 
those things. The mother in me wants to tell you not to 
kiss the boys. But I know that's not realistic. I guess 
what I really want you to understand is that it's 
tempting to do things with boys just because of 
feelings you have, but it's important not to go too far 
unless you have real love. Does that make sense?"

Debbie's reaction to that was mixed. What her mother 
was saying sounded like what any mother would say. But, 
knowing what her mother had just done, only an hour 
before, it had to mean that her mother... loved... 
mister Smith, and that didn't make any sense at all. A 
new thought bloomed in Debbie's mind. She didn't 
remember her father, because she had just been a 
toddler when he was killed. And, while she didn't 
remember any men in her home life, there had been a 
period of a few years when, if there WERE a man in the 
house, she might not have remembered it. Could mister 
Smith be a man her mother fell in love with AFTER her 
father was killed?

In typical teenage fashion, instead of answering her 
mother's question, she blurted out her own.

"Mom, did you have a boyfriend after Daddy died?"

Ramona stared at her daughter. This was a conversation 
that seemed... odd somehow. Her parental radar began to 
have blips on the screen that were disturbing.

"No, Darling." she said. She strained to find the right 
words. "Things were very difficult for me when your 
father died. I wasn't... well. It took a long time to 
get as back to being normal as I could. I didn't feel 
that... seeking male companionship... was something 
that would make my life... our lives... better."

Ramona saw something like disappointment cross her 
daughter's face. This was very odd. On impulse she 
spoke.

"Debbie, why are you asking me all these questions. Do 
you have a boyfriend? Has he tried to do something that 
makes you uncomfortable? What's going on?"

Their roles had been somewhat reversed. Initially, 
Debbie had thought she might pry some information out 
of her mother that would answer some questions about 
the man next door. If he was an old boyfriend, what she 
and her brother had seen would make a lot more sense. 
Now, however, she heard that tone in her mother's voice 
that meant SHE was the one being interrogated, and that 
her mother wanted to pry information out of HER.

Still, other than the fact that her mother did not seem 
to want to confess to what had gone on in the past with 
mister Smith... what was STILL going on with him... her 
mother's responses had been what Debbie would have 
expected... caring responses that any loving mother 
might have given. The questions Debbie wanted answers 
to concerned mister Smith. Something in Debbie had 
begun to recognize that her and her brother's childhood 
play-place was gone now, never to return. Now this 
unbelievable relationship her mother had with Smith had 
pushed itself into her uppermost mind. She itched to 
make sense of it, and she took the risk of further 
questions.

"It's just that you seem so interested in mister 
Smith." she hazarded. "I mean what with him being a 
stranger and all, and I know about the bank and all 
that stuff, but it just seems like... I don't know... 
like you look at him sort of like I look at boys at 
school."

Debbie held her breath, waiting to see what her mother 
would say... or do. 

It was a pivotal point in the relationship between 
mother and daughter. At this point, Debbie knew her 
mother had lied to her at least twice, and that was 
something she couldn't understand. She also knew that 
her mother must love this stranger from somewhere in 
her past that she wasn't willing to talk about, and she 
couldn't understand that either. Had her mother 
laughed, or pshawed the idea that Smith might mean 
something to her, it might have created a rift between 
mother and daughter that could have lasted a lifetime.

But Ramona didn't laugh. She was seized by feelings of 
fear of her daughter finding out secrets that were 
better off left buried. At the same time she had to 
acknowledge that her daughter's instincts about this 
were astonishingly accurate, considering her age. Had 
she known that her children had spied on her, 
everything would have been different. She harbored some 
kind of insane hope in her heart that she and Robert 
might be able, somehow, to recapture the happiness of 
their youth together, now that he was back. She felt no 
guilt about what they had done since his return, but 
she was fully aware of the pitfalls involved in that 
forbidden relationship. If she could just tell her 
children who he was, they would simply assume that 
the... feelings... they saw, and which Debbie had just 
voiced seeing, were only the natural love of sister for 
brother.

But could she trust them to be discreet? Robert still 
had things to do before he took off his disguise in 
public, or at least until he appeared publicly as 
Robert Ellsworth Nettleton. Ramona was wracked with 
doubt. But she saw real questions in her daughter's 
eyes, and that was important too. 

Now it was Ramona who took a risk.

"Sweetheart, there are things about mister Smith you 
don't know."

Ramona saw light bloom in her daughter's eyes, an 
obvious interest that shouted that this was something 
Debbie wanted very badly to know about. Debbie 
unconsciously leaned forward, toward her mother.

"But... I can't tell you everything just yet."

The light dimmed in Debbie's eyes, and Ramona saw that 
too. She went on hurriedly.

"It's not because I don't WANT to tell you. It's 
complicated. There are legal issues over at the mansion 
and, until those are resolved, it's very important that 
no one learn some things about him that could cause him 
problems."

Debbie clutched at the little part of the secret that 
her mother had shared.

"OK, I understand that, but why would you be interested 
in him? As a man, I mean?" Debbie pushed her luck even 
further. "It's like you knew him in the past or 
something."

Ramona became wary. "Is this what all those questions 
about boyfriends were all about?" she asked shrewdly.

Debbie's eyes widened. Her mother was pretty sharp. 
"Well... yeah... I guess so... sort of."

Ramona didn't know what to say. She knew if she just 
put her daughter off that it wouldn't work. That much 
was obvious from her previous behavior.

"Let me say this. I already told you I knew him in the 
past. And, when I knew him then I liked him. He didn't 
have that beard then. But he's not my boyfriend." 
Ramona looked at her daughter to gauge the response.

Debbie was now confused. Her mother obviously liked 
mister Smith a LOT more than she was admitting to. But 
what confused Debbie was her mother's unwillingness to 
admit that. She got an idea.

"Is he married or something?" she asked.

Ramona shook her head. "No, he's not married. But 
people would be... upset if they thought we were as 
close as a boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Why?" asked Debbie.

"That's something I can't talk about." said Ramona, 
unable to come up with anything else. "You'll 
understand in a few weeks. I promise you that. You'll 
understand everything in a few weeks. OK?"

Debbie's curiosity had been both soothed, to a tiny 
degree, and inflamed, to a large degree. She couldn't 
imagine why her mother had to wait to tell her just who 
this man really was. But she knew she'd gotten as much 
out of her mother as was likely, so she nodded. Then 
she felt compelled, for some reason, to hug her mother. 
She got up and bent over to embrace her.

"I love you Mommy." she said into her mother's hair.

Ramona felt a stab of emotion. "I love you too baby. I 
really do. And someday you'll understand all of this 
and it will be OK. I promise everything will be OK." 
she murmured.

That did, in fact, reassure Debbie, but she went to 
talk to Robby about things anyway. She didn't have much 
to give him, but it was more than she'd had an hour 
ago.

Robby listened carefully to what his sister told him.

"She admitted she liked him, a long time ago?" he 
asked.

"Well, she didn't SAY it was a long time ago. She just 
said she liked him, but he wasn't her boyfriend. But it 
HAD to be a long time ago, because otherwise we'd know 
him too... wouldn't we?"

"Yeah, that makes sense." said her brother. "And she 
said he couldn't be her... boyfriend?" That word just 
seemed too strange to use in the same sentence as his 
mother.

"She said he CAN'T be her boyfriend, because people 
wouldn't like it." said Debbie. "Why wouldn't people 
let her choose whoever she wanted for her boyfriend?" 
she mused.

"It has to be something to do with the manor." decided 
Robby. "But how can we find out what it is?"

Debbie thought and then straightened up. 

"The LIBRARY!" she said excitedly. "Doesn't the library 
have old records and newspapers and stuff like that?"

And so it was decided. The kids would journey to the 
town library the next day, while their mother worked... 
or visited Smith again.

=======================================================
===

Ramona worried about the conversation with her 
daughter. Had she said too much? Should she have said 
more? But the next morning, when her children acted 
completely normal towards her, laughing and talking 
about going swimming, she felt better.

She might have felt differently if she'd known what 
they were really going to do.

They waited until she was gone and then started to get 
ready to go. Debbie, thinking about her mother, and 
what she'd seen, suddenly felt that itch between her 
legs that meant it was time to visit the manor. Except 
they couldn't do that any more. She remembered the day 
before, as they lay clutched on the very bed she was 
sitting on, and her nipples tingled. She got up to go 
see her brother.

Robby was standing in his underwear, trying to decide 
on whether to wear shorts or jeans when his sister 
walked into the room, her blouse unbuttoned. She pulled 
it open to display her naked, bobbing breasts.

"Little Debbie has a treat for you." she announced, 
taking the blouse off.

Uncharacteristically, Robby, the male in the 
relationship, the one reputed to have no self control, 
chastised her. 

"Debbie, we have things to do!"

"We can afford ten minutes." she said, cupping her 
breasts and squeezing her nipples between her thumbs 
and forefingers. "Come on, don't you want just a little 
taste?"

She knew how to get his juices flowing and watched with 
glee as the front of his briefs began to fill up and 
bulge.

"Of course you do." she teased, bending over to slide 
her shorts down and step out of them. She slid one hand 
from her breast into her panties and pressed her clit.

"Hey!" he said. "Isn't that my job?"

"I thought you wanted to go dig through musty old 
books." she kept teasing. "Besides, I did just fine all 
by myself for years before you got involved."

Robby knew how to tease too. He picked up his shorts 
and put a leg through them.

"OK, I'll be at the library whenever you get finished." 
He pulled the shorts up and buttoned the waist.

"Robbeeeeeeee" she whined. "Don't be mean to meeeeee." 
she said as she dug her finger up into her pussy.

"You started it." he grinned.

But he unbuttoned and dropped his pants. Her pursuit of 
him gave him a feeling of power and he pulled his 
briefs off to stand, hands on hips, his prick strong 
and straight, pointing at her. He went to his bed and 
lay down on it, looking at her.

Debbie made a show of sliding her panties down her 
thighs. She stood when they were at her knees, 
spreading her feet as widely as her strained panties 
allowed, and ruffled her blond fur, slicking her middle 
finger between her lips.

"I'm wet." she said, her voice husky.

"I know how to make you even wetter." said her brother, 
reaching for his cock and stroking it.

Debbie removed her panties, kicking them with one foot, 
making them sail toward her brother. They hit the side 
of the bed and dropped to the floor. She walked 
languidly over to the bed and leaned over to watch as 
her brother stroked himself. She loved watching that 
thin skin uncover and then cover back up the head of 
his prick.

"Let me." she said, reaching for it.

Robby let his hand drop and sighed as he felt her warm 
hand grasp him. She played with him, playing with his 
foreskin. A bubble of white oozed out of the slit in 
the tip and Debbie suddenly thought of her mother, on 
her knees in front of Smith, sucking. She had been 
ready to let Smith squirt in her mouth, but he had 
wanted to put - what was it he called it? - his seed... 
yes his seed in her mother's pussy, where it could make 
a baby. She stared at her brother's... seed.

Acting on impulse, she leaned lower and flicked her 
tongue out to swipe that bubble with the tip of her 
tongue.

She tasted. It didn't taste like much of anything. A 
tiny bit bitter, but sweet somehow too. Her impulse 
suggested copying what her mother had done. Having seen 
her mother, who was obviously enjoying what she had 
been doing, it didn't seem to strange any more.

Robby felt heat surround the head of his cock. It was 
like nothing he had ever felt before, except maybe when 
he rubbed between his sister's pussy lips with the tip. 
But this was ALL around the knob. He lifted his head 
and stared at his sister, sucking his cock.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck... oh... oh." he moaned. 

The heat all around his prick head left, leaving cool 
air that didn't feel good at all. Her blond head came 
up.

"You like that?" she asked, licking her lips.

"Ohhh pleeease do it some more." he pleaded.

She happily went back to sucking, loving the feel of 
his smooth skin. She could play with that cute foreskin 
with her tongue and she did so, moving her lips to 
force it off the head and then licking it as it tried 
to cover him again. She tasted more of the bitter/sweet 
stuff and swallowed it, along with saliva that seemed 
to be pouring into her mouth. She took more of his cock 
into her mouth, feeling downward with her lips, feeling 
the head trying to go into the back of her throat. She 
gagged, and didn't like that feeling, so she pulled 
back to play with just the head. She liked that better.

Robby had lain rigid while she loved his prick. He 
wanted to shoot, but the thought of doing that with her 
mouth down there was something he was just sure she'd 
be mad at if he did it. But it felt too good.

"Deb, something's going to happen." he warned, his 
voice tight as he tried not to make a horrible mistake. 
"You need to stop now!"

She did, raising her head. "Is it going to squirt?" she 
asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, that feels too good."

She stared at her brother's eyes. "You taste good." she 
said.

Then she let her face fall and took him in her mouth 
again.

For Robby, it was like somebody had slapped him ten or 
fifteen times. He closed his eyes tightly as his face 
went into a grimace and his mouth opened wide. He felt 
it deep in his balls... an ache that could only be 
eased by one thing. Then, before he could take another 
breath his prick started spouting ribbons of thick cum.

Debbie knew what to expect only insofar as she had seen 
him squirt before, and helped clean up the spots where 
they had made a mess on the bed. But confining that to 
just her mouth was much more difficult than she thought 
it would be. She got two swallows in before her mouth 
overflowed and her brother's sperm began leaking from 
the corners of her mouth. She felt like she was going 
to choke and pulled her mouth off of him, taking one 
spurt right on where, if she were a male, she might 
have a moustache. She could have posed for a commercial 
that wouldn't be seen for thirty years, in which the 
tag line was "Got Milk?" Except, of course, for the 
fact that her "milk" was now dripping down across her 
lips and chin and beginning to drop in strings down to 
her breasts. She swallowed twice more, her mouth 
clearing at last, and her hands came up to catch the 
mess. In concentration it tasted different and she 
realized that she loved the taste. She began licking 
her hands, cleaning them like a kitten cleans its paws.

Robby just lay there dazed, his prick oozing more of 
the stuff that puddled in his hair to join what had 
leaked out of her mouth before she gave up.

"I can't believe you did that." he panted.

Debbie licked her palm and the heel of one hand, even 
though they looked clean by now. "That was fun." she 
said. "But I'm REALLY horny now." She looked at her 
brother. "Would you do that... for me?" she asked.

Robby thought about that. He'd seen Smith doing that to 
his mother, and she had obviously loved it. But it 
seemed... gross. Still, she had done it for him, and if 
his mother loved it, then maybe Debbie would love it 
too. He would do it for HER... even if he didn't really 
want to.

He rolled, to make room for her on the bed and she 
arranged herself like she had the other day, opening 
herself wide for him. He got on his hands and knees and 
slowly let his face get closer to her sex as he looked 
closely at her pussy. He noticed things he'd never 
noticed before... fine hairs sprouting above her clit. 
Her clit itself was enlarged and clearly visible. He 
looked at it closely and realized it looked something 
like the tip of his own cock, with a tiny foreskin and 
an even tinier prick head peeping out of that hood of 
skin.

He sniffed.

The guys at school had talked about fish smell, but she 
didn't smell anything like any fish he'd ever been 
around. Her scent was strong, but not bad. One time 
he'd sniffed her panties which she'd left in the hamper 
and this didn't smell anything like that had either. 
Her fingers appeared in front of his eyes, pulling her 
pussy lips open, showing him the dark cavern that they 
hid. He decided to touch the tip of his tongue to her 
clit first... to see what the taste was like. He 
couldn't see, and he pressed his stiff tongue against 
the organ much harder than he had planned.

"Ah..UHU" she grunted and her hips thrust up off the 
bed, smashing into his face.

Robby's face was wet with her juices. Her odor was all 
around him now, and his lips were wet. He licked them 
automatically and found a spicy pungent taste that 
wasn't anything like what he had expected.

She tasted GOOD!

Robby thrust his mouth and nose into her pussy, this 
time intending to press hard. His tongue led the way, 
seeking that dark hole she had exposed, and finding it. 
He tried to stick his tongue into that hole as far as 
he could. Even if it was only an inch or a little more, 
her reaction was more than satisfactory. Her voice made 
a grating sound and she cried out, her hands gripping 
his hair painfully. The fact that they pulled turned 
what had sounded like pain into something that he knew 
she loved. She jerked her hips around so much that his 
face lost contact and bounced against the inside of one 
thigh.

Robby went to his elbows, sliding his hands under his 
sister's buttocks and then he made an "o" of his lips 
and aimed for her clit. When he felt his lips close 
around it, he sucked and pulled her up into his face so 
she couldn't wiggle loose. Her clit came farther into 
his mouth than he thought it would and he found he 
could nip it with his teeth. Knowing that it would hurt 
if he bit her too hard, he alternated with sucking 
hard, nipping with his teeth, and swabbing it with his 
tongue.

Debbie went crazy. She screamed and her arms and head 
flailed. She sat up and then flopped back down. Her 
voice sounded agonized, but with a tone that said she 
was NOT in agony. Her pussy provided so much juice as 
she came that his face made wet squelching sounds, like 
a foot in a shoe filled with water as someone walked in 
it.

Debbie finally lay limp, her multiple orgasms having 
robbed her of the strength to do anything except drag 
breath into her lungs. Her legs lay akimbo, her pussy 
lips swollen with blood as Robby finally pushed himself 
away from her. He was painfully hard and, as he sat on 
his heels, he stroked his prick, staring at the 
luscious pussy he could still taste on his lips. Debbie 
looked up at him through her lashes, anticipating what 
she knew he'd do. And, when he groaned and leaned 
forward, she mustered the strength to lift her pussy up 
to meet his cock as it began unloading his semen-packed 
balls. He only meant to splash her pussy lips with his 
goo. But, as a half ounce of his thick spunk rocketed 
out of his prick, the head kissed those lips and 
sealed. All that spunk shot right up into her pussy. 
The only thing that saved what was left of her 
virginity was that, feeling that warm bath inside her 
pussy, she went weak again, and dropped her buttocks 
back to the bed.

Then, as he collapsed on top of her, instead of his 
prick boring into her pussy, it lay at the gates and 
the rest of his spunk went where he'd intended it to 
go, soaking her pussy lips and mons as he continued to 
spurt.


Chapter Eight 
=============

An hour had passed since the teens discovered oral sex. 
Satisfied for the moment and cleaned up, Robby and 
Debbie entered the doors of the Howard County Public 
Library, where Penny Martin, Head Librarian, proudly 
waited to serve the few customers who came her way.

Penny had only graduated from college with her 
cherished library science degree about six months 
earlier. The placement service at the college had found 
her a job offer before she even graduated. That she'd 
landed a job as "head librarian" almost immediately had 
impressed her parents. What she hadn't told them was 
that it was in a hick town in a remote county that 
couldn't pay for more than one staff member. So while 
she was the "head" librarian, she was also the only 
librarian. Still, it was a job, and the cost of living 
in Nettleton was workable, and she was basically 
thrilled.

Some of the thrill wore off when she realized there 
might actually be days when the only patron she served 
might be old Mr. Breckenridge, who was retired and had 
nothing better to do than sit in the library and sleep 
with a book open in his lap. He did that pretty much 
every day, especially since the pretty young librarian 
had been hired. He was there today, in fact. Or perhaps 
the hospital would call and ask her to bring around a 
selection of books for the patients to read while they 
were laid up. It being summer time, no students came to 
do any research. They all had better things to do.

So, when Debbie and Robby walked in, they got good 
service.

Well, they got good service until Penny found out what 
they wanted. She could recite Dewey Decimal System 
numbers in her sleep, including history, but she 
quickly found that the history section of her library 
was a bit sparse when it came to history concerning the 
town, county and even state. There was a really nice 
selection of books on World War II which, she noticed, 
were actually in the wrong section, but she had nothing 
on the old house the town was named for.

All three of them were so intent on searching for a 
book on the shelves that they were startled when old 
Mr. Breckenridge shuffled up the aisle.

"Couldn't help but hear what these young'uns wanted." 
he said, his voice a little too loud. "Ain't a goin' 
tuh find it here." he added.

"Oh?" inquired Penny.

"Yup" said Breckenridge. "All that's down in tha 
basement." he slurred. "Madge packed it all away 'cause 
nobody ever wanted it." 

Madge was the previous head librarian, who had retired 
herself and never ever came to the library after she 
locked the doors the final time.

"Ah kin show ya" he grinned. "Ah helped her put it down 
there."

The Howard County Public Library was, in reality, a 
house built in the twenties, that had been taken over 
by the county for taxes during the Great Depression. 
Walls had been knocked down and replaced with pillars, 
making it into two rooms, one quite large and the other 
quite small. A bathroom had been added when inside 
plumbing came into vogue and the narrow steep wooden 
staircase still lurked behind a warped door in the wall 
that had been a kitchen wall in years past. The tiny 
kitchen now acted as an office.

Penny had descended those stairs a couple of times 
since being hired, but she didn't go down there often. 
The books she had found down there weren't suitable for 
display, being musty, thick with absorbed moisture, and 
falling apart for the most part. There were boxes and 
boxes of records of who had checked out what over the 
years. Basically it was all junk, but the cobwebs kept 
Penny at bay. She hated spiders. Her original plans to 
clean it all out had been put on hold.

Now, as she led the way down the stairs, and pulled the 
string that lit the bare bulb that hung by a cord from 
the floor joists above, she shivered. She made room for 
the kids, who came next, and Mr. Breckenridge, who 
eased his aching joints down the stairs entirely too 
slowly to suit Penny. 

"Ain't as spry as I used to be." he mumbled, peering 
into the semi-darkness of the basement. "Should be over 
that-a-way." he pointed with a skinny finger, on which 
rested a discolored and too-long fingernail.

"That-a-way" turned out to be a far corner, which very 
little light penetrated into. Penny looked at the kids, 
who looked perfectly at home, as if they prowled around 
in dusty, damp and cobwebbed environs on a regular 
basis. She shuddered again.

"I don't want to get my clothes all dirty." she 
complained.

"That's OK." said Robby. "I'll move anything that needs 
moving."

Truth be told, they'd never have found anything if he 
hadn't been for Homer Breckenridge, who had a memory 
better than his appearance might have suggested. He 
shuffled unerringly to the far corner and pointed 
again.

"Look behind them boxes there." he said.

Robby had to move several boxes overflowing with old 
cards that had names scrawled on them, with dates after 
them. Why someone had kept them was a mystery, but had 
they been studied, they would have provided a 
remarkable history of what the townspeople of years 
gone by had read. Clouds of dust billowed into the air 
as Robby restacked boxes on top of other boxes. Finally 
he uncovered one battered wooden crate that was neatly 
packed with ledgers, a few books, and a number of 
yellowed newspapers.

Penny directed them to take the crate upstairs, trying 
to get out of the basement as quickly as she could. 
Once upstairs again, they unpacked the crate on a 
table. Homer lifted several of the folded newspapers 
and opened them with a surprisingly gentle touch. They 
all appeared to be editions of "The Nettleton Crier". 
There were no pictures, to speak of, but huge printed 
headlines were scattered all over the front, as well as 
some drawings that depicted various things, including 
advertisements for various medicines and other items 
for sale by merchants of the town. Debbie's eyes were 
drawn to a hand drawing of a woman wearing a hat and a 
dress just like Debbie had put on during dress-up play 
many times. It looked much more full below the waist 
than it did when Debbie wore hers.

The ledgers turned out to contain information about the 
mines. One thin book, in surprisingly good condition 
was titled "The Nettleton Empire". It was a handwritten 
history of the Nettleton mining operation. The last 
entry said only "Company sold in probate after the 
tragic incident."

Penny, her curiosity peaked by actually having 
something to do, began leafing through the book, while 
Homer pointed out various newspaper articles.

"I 'member some of that now." he wheezed. "Sad times 
they were. Those poor little babies."

"What babies?" asked Debbie.

Homer's eyes went out of focus. "They wuz two little 
'uns left after the momma and daddy wuz killed. They 
caught them two what dun it and 'lectrocuted 'em. 
'Lectrocuted the feller what hired 'em too. Bunch of us 
drove up to the pen'tentiary and stood outside to watch 
the lights dim. I wuz there when they fried. Saw the 
whole thing."

"What?" asked Robby shocked. "What are you talking 
about?"

"Killers... hired killers" said Homer explosively. 
"Snuck in thar and kilt the parents one night. They wuz 
a little boy and a little gurl in there when it 
happened. Found 'em hidin' somewhere in that old place. 
Them killers said they'd have dun fer the kids too if'n 
they'd a bin able tuh find 'em." He sighed. "Them kids 
found thar kin all slaughtered and raised the cry."

Debbie gasped. She had been leafing through newspapers 
and pointed at one. 

"Here it is!" she said. 

Everyone peered at the huge type on the front page.

"PILLARS OF COMMUNITY SLAIN IN VILE MURDER!" screamed 
the headline, which looked to be three inches tall and 
took up the top quarter of the page. The story went on 
to describe, in gruesome detail, what the town 
constable had found when he was summoned to the 
Nettleton Mansion by a hysterical woman employed as a 
cook by the Nettletons. The cook was in her room in the 
carriage house when Robert E. Nettleton, age six and 
his sister Elizabeth R. Nettleton, age four, burst into 
the room crying and covered in blood. She had fearfully 
gone with them to find their parents slaughtered in the 
master bedroom. The children had been hugging their 
dead parents, trying to get them to get up, and when 
that failed, had gone to get the cook. The 
investigation had revealed the house had been ransacked 
and a number of items appeared to be missing. All other 
staff members in the mansion had been gone that night, 
to a dance in town.

There was another article on the same page in one 
corner that reminded readers of the death of an 
unidentified Nettleton boy at the hands of would-be 
kidnappers and, later, the murder of Constance 
Nettleton in the very same room that this crime had 
taken place in, some forty years earlier. It was 
suggested that a demonic presence inhabited the house, 
and that this demon required history to repeat itself.

The newspapers had been stacked in date order, and the 
next day's edition also had a banner headline.

"MURDERERS CAUGHT RED HANDED!" That story told how a 
posse had been formed and had fanned out across the 
county using the technology of the day, the internal 
combustion automobile to speed them to points where a 
cordon had been established. When two blood spattered 
men carrying a gunny sack were observed, they were 
taken into custody and found to have the Nettleton 
silver in the bag, as well as other items identified by 
servants as property of the slain Nettletons.

Another slightly smaller headline at the right lower 
corner of the front page said:

"NETTLETON ORPHANS REMOVED FROM SAD STRUCTURE."

That story was about how there were no relatives to be 
found, and the children had been removed to a boarding 
house where they would be cared for until their 
murdered father's will could be located. That such an 
instrument existed was clear, since Mr. Wilfred Tower, 
an attorney in the town, swore before the circuit judge 
that he had executed such a document within the last 
year. The will had not yet been found.

In another paper with a later date, there was another 
front page story with a drawing of a man, strapped in a 
large wooden chair, his head hooded, with wires going 
from the chair to a wall. The story told of the swift 
trial and execution of the murderers, and the man who 
hired them to perform their grisly task. It also 
verified Homer's assertion that the henchmen had 
admitted they'd have killed the children too if they'd 
been able to find them in the house.

The next paper in line was dated five months later, 
with much smaller headlines, but still on the front 
page. That story told of the finding of the will. 
Details of what was in the will were sketchy, but the 
disposition of the two orphans was discussed, 
identifying one Margaret Swales as having been 
identified in the will as the guardian of the children.

The next paper didn't appear to have anything in it at 
first glance, but, on the inside they found a small 
article that had the headline:

"Orphaned waifs' ordeal continues" That story told of 
Mrs. Swales inability to care for the Nettleton 
children due to her confinement to a sanitarium, and of 
their assignment of a new guardian. The entire article 
was no more than seven lines long.

There were additional articles, quite small on average, 
that mentioned this or that milestone in a Nettleton 
child's life. There was one that spoke of their entry 
into the public school system, using only "the 
Nettleton children" as identifying data, and another 
one later that heralded Robert Nettleton's graduation 
from school and his impending assignment as a 
missionary in "blackest Africa".

By the time they were finished going through the main 
documents it was clear that, what had riveted the 
townspeople in the beginning, took on less and less 
significance as time went on. The last newspaper 
article they could find was about the house itself, and 
how two young men had been apprehended trying to sneak 
into it on a dare. The article said it had been 
shuttered up until the return of "the present owner", 
who was not identified by name.

Debbie looked at her Bulova wristwatch. They had been 
reading for two hours, and there was a lot of materials 
in the crate no one had examined yet.

"Miss Martin, can you keep this somewhere for us until 
we can come back?" she asked.

Penny looked askance at the crate. "As far as I'm 
concerned you can take it all with you." She dusted her 
hands by clapping them together. "That doesn't really 
belong in the library." she pronounced. "If anything it 
should be in the museum or someplace like that... if 
anybody wants it at all." She had, after all, only been 
in town for six months, and had no curiosity about the 
Nettleton Mansion. In truth, she had never even been by 
the place.

Debbie began repacking the crate immediately. She 
planned on taking it home and going through it more 
carefully. They had learned a lot, but she knew there 
was more information in there and she wanted to know 
that too. Robby carried the crate on his shoulder as 
they walked back to the house.

Homer Breckenridge tried to accompany them, giving them 
unasked for advice.

"You'uns stay clear of that place. It's hainted. The 
poor souls of all them murdered folk drift through 
there at night. Ah seen em mahsef."

Debbie looked at him curiously. "When did you see 
them?" she asked.

The old man smiled, revealing he had lost some teeth 
along the way. "Ah used to walk by there sometimes. Ah 
seen lights through them winders. Cain't nobody get in 
there any more. Them lights is the ghosts of all them 
Nettletons, you mark mah words."

Debbie had a pretty good idea of what those lights 
actually were. Those lights the old man had seen were 
from the candles she and Robby had used to explore. 
They hadn't thought anybody would be looking through 
the trees at the old place, and hadn't been all that 
careful about using those candles.

"How cum ya'll want to know 'bout that place anyways?" 
asked Homer.

"There's a man moving in there." said Debbie, still 
thinking of whether anyone else might have seen their 
candles.

"Ya don't say!" said Homer. "Well, he'd have tuh be a 
Nettleton. They ain't never sold that house. It's got 
tuh be that little orphan boy iffen you ask me." He 
scratched at his beard. "Mov'in in there huh?" he 
mused. "I never heered 'bout that."

Robby was uncomfortable at the man's interest in the 
manor. "I think it's supposed to be a secret or 
something." he said.

Homer stopped. His joints ached from all the walking 
they'd already done. He was thinking now about a pint 
of whiskey he'd hidden away at Miss Dixie's boarding 
house, where he had a room, and where alcohol was 
strictly forbidden. "Wahl, you'uns member whut ah told 
yuh. They's ghosts 'round that place. And if they's a 
Nettleton back there, then there'll be death 'round 
that place too. Mark mah words!"

The two teens hurried on, leaving the old man behind.

"You think he's right?" asked Robby, puffing a little. 
The crate was heavy and awkward on his shoulder.

"He must be." said Debbie. "At least about it being a 
Nettleton moving back in. That's what Mister Smith 
said. Who else would even want to?" she asked. "But 
that doesn't explain how she knows Smith. How could she 
have known him?"

"I don't know, but didn't she say Smith had been gone 
somewhere for a long time. And didn't the paper say 
that boy went into the missionaries? Maybe Smith is the 
little boy!" Robby was excited now.

"That still doesn't say how Mom would know him." said 
Debbie doubtfully.

"Well, Mom's about the same age, and the paper said he 
went to public school. Maybe they went to school 
together." Robby sounded convinced already.

By the time they got home they expected their mother 
within the hour. For some reason they didn't want to 
share what they'd found with her, so they hid the crate 
in the garage. They figured it would be safe there 
because that room was just slightly too full of junk to 
park the car in unless it was going to storm or hail or 
something like that. Just in case, they piled an old 
tarp on top of it. Then they had to clean up. Both had 
smudges on their skin and clothing from the dusty 
library basement. Robby wanted to play as they changed 
clothes and used wash cloths to clean their arms and 
faces, but Debbie pushed him away.

"We don't have time. You'll have to be patient and 
wait." She smiled at the look on his face. Her mother 
kept telling HER to be patient. Somehow it felt good to 
make somebody else wait for something he wanted too. 
She teased him by rubbing her hand across his crotch, 
and then ran, laughing from the bathroom as he gave 
chase.

=======================================================
==

Ramona drove home quickly, speeding a little. She 
wanted to go see Robert again tonight... couldn't wait 
to see him in fact... but there were the children to 
deal with. She knew they were curious and sensed they 
were suspicious. If she didn't have an iron-clad reason 
to go visit "Smith" they'd get even more suspicious. 
She had played over and over again in her mind the 
various ways she could introduce "Smith" as their 
uncle, and had tried to imagine how she would tell them 
of their hidden heritage. In every scenario she had 
dreamed up it all fell to pieces. She had no idea how 
she'd end up doing it. There was dread in her about 
that. 

That dread, in juxtaposition with her excitement at 
meeting with Robert again... being loved by Robert 
again... made her jumpy and irritable during the day. 
Her co-workers chalked it up to her change of jobs, and 
to having to deal with the strange man who represented 
Robert Nettleton. 

After having rushed to get home, when she parked, 
Ramona sat in the car for a few moments, ambivalent 
about getting out. She still hadn't thought of a way to 
break away from her children and go see Robert. It was 
when she reached for her briefcase that the idea came 
to her.

She got out of the car to the sound of laughter and 
screams. Debbie came running around the corner of the 
house, looking over her shoulder, her hair flying. She 
was flushed and laughing and Ramona's heart lurched in 
her chest. Her daughter was so beautiful and healthy 
and carefree that it almost made her cry. She had to 
drop the briefcase and put her hands out to avoid being 
run down by her daughter, who didn't know that either 
her mother or the car were there. 

Just as Debbie ran into her mother's arms, Robby came 
charging around the corner too, growling and roaring 
like some kind of animal. But the look on his face was 
one of glee, and not anger.

There was a general pile-up of bodies as Ramona was 
pushed up against the car by her two children. There 
were gasps and shouts from all three, who ended up in a 
group hug that wiggled and moved as Robby tried to 
tickle first his sister and then his mother too, 
growling again.

"STOP!" laughed Ramona, pushing both of them away in 
self defense. Her children moved away from her, but 
eyed each other warily. 

"What on earth has gotten into you two?" she said, her 
heart thudding in her chest as the adrenaline rush of 
being run into subsided.

"Robby was being mean to me." whined Debbie in a voice 
that made it clear she wasn't in the least bit angry or 
upset.

"You'll know when I'm REALLY being mean to you!" he 
growled. "I'll SHOW you!" and he darted for her, his 
hands reaching for her ribs. 

Then she was off and running like a deer again, back 
around the same corner, with Robby in full chase, like 
they were ten instead of almost grown. Ramona grinned 
and bent over to pick up her briefcase, shaking her 
head and going toward the door. Life was good, she 
decided, regardless of the ups and downs they were 
experiencing. Life was just pretty good.

While their mother went into the house to fix supper 
Debbie led her brother on a chase into the woods next 
to the fence to the manor. She tripped on a root and 
flailed her arms for balance, going down on the soft 
humus covering of the forest floor. Naturally, Robby 
caught up with her. She gripped the black iron of the 
fence bars and gained her feet just as his hands went 
on either side of her, imprisoning her as his body 
crushed hers against the fence.

"Got you!" he panted.

"Only because I tripped." she said in a fake sulk. 

Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she, too, 
breathed in heavily. Her hands went to his waist. The 
chase had awakened something in them that their ancient 
ancestors might have felt during a pursuit like that. 
The purpose of their ancestors' chase, however, was not 
for fun and games, but to make sexual conquest. Debbie 
responded to that ancient drive. She had been caught, 
and she surrendered. She leaned forward to kiss her 
brother.

Robby responded, and their kiss turned torrid as their 
hands roamed all over each other's bodies. The drive to 
reap the fruits of the chase was strong in both of 
them. As Debbie felt her brother's fingers at the 
buttons of her blouse, though, a voice cut through the 
stillness of the forest.

"What do we have here?"

The teens sprang apart as if they had been goosed with 
a bare 220 volt wire, and whirled to find Smith, 
dressed in what they now knew was his disguise, his 
black hair and wild beard covering his face, and his 
body draped in the ill fitting black trench coat.

"I have found two little rabbits, playing in my woods." 
said the gravelly voice, which they also knew was not 
the man's normal one.

Both youths were wild eyed and panicked at having been 
caught in an amorous embrace. And this man knew they 
were brother and sister! Their world teetered on the 
edge of disaster.

In such circumstances, there is a normal response the 
body makes. It is sometimes called the "fight or flight 
syndrome", and the body prepares itself automatically 
for either of those two options. Normally, that means 
the body, usually in it's placid state, is infused with 
various hormones and chemicals on a more or less 
instant basis, and the results can be astonishing. 
Adrenaline is one of the primary hormones released 
during a stressful incident. Debbie's body had already 
produced a measurable quantity of adrenaline in the 
excitement of the chase and the expectation that sexual 
activity was going to occur. Now, the fright and 
anguish she felt gave her an extra shot.

Basically, she was hopped up on hormones to the point 
that her response was to fight, rather than flee. A 
second consideration might have been that Smith was on 
the other side of the iron fence, providing a certain 
amount of unstated security. A third aspect of the 
confrontation was that her unconscious mind keyed in on 
Smith's use of the term "my woods", which was in direct 
contravention to how Debbie thought about "her woods".

"YOU HORRIBLE OLD MAN!" she shouted, her mind relating 
to the disguise, rather than the much younger man who 
wore it. "HOW DARE YOU SPY ON US IN OUR WOODS!" In her 
frustration and rage at her present circumstances, she 
bent to the forest floor and her hand grabbed a fistful 
of matted leaves and soil, which she then flung through 
the bars. The detritus fluttered, expanding, and fell 
to the ground inside the fence, feet short of hitting 
the man.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" screamed the girl, stomping 
her feet in a tantrum of rage. "YOU'RE RUINING 
EVERYTHING!"

Smith didn't move when she threw the handful of leaves 
at him. His beard made it difficult to tell what his 
face looked like, but it moved in ways that made it 
look like he was smiling.

"Well, well, the little rabbit has fangs, she does." He 
stared at the two, looking at Robby, who was poised on 
the balls of his feet. "So you feel these are your 
woods too." he mused. "That, little rabbit is a very 
interesting thing to me. Perhaps you could tell me why 
that is the way you feel?"

His complete dismissal of Debbie's hostile speech and 
actions were unsettling, as if he felt completely 
secure, and was neither offended or worried about them. 
And, adrenaline is a short acting hormone. It breaks 
down in the blood stream after releasing glucose for 
the muscles to use, leaving the host much weaker... and 
just as suddenly as it made the host feel strong and 
ready to fight.

But there was a little fight left in Debbie. "I 
wouldn't tell YOU anything!" she snarled.

Smith's beard moved as if he were smiling again. "Well, 
then, perhaps your mother might be able to shed some 
light on this issue? Perhaps I should mention to her 
that I met you in... your woods?"

His unspoken threat to tell their mother just what he 
saw them doing in... their woods... hung heavily in the 
still air.

Debbie looked stricken, her face red, and tears flushed 
her eyes so much she couldn't see. She used the heels 
of her hands to rub her eyes dry and felt fury that she 
cried in front of this man. Her emotions were at such a 
fever pitch though, that she was virtually speechless 
now.

Robby stepped forward. "We've done nothing to harm 
you." he said, his voice heavy. "You have no call 
to..." He couldn't put into words what changes Smith 
might be able to make in their lives.

Smith, standing so placidly on the other side of the 
fence, shrugged his bulky shoulders.

"It is not my intention to cause either of you pain." 
he said seriously. "Quite the opposite, in fact. But 
discussion of that must be for another time." He looked 
down the fence line in both directions. "I have my 
survey to finish. Perhaps we can discuss this at some 
time when emotions are not so high."

Debbie's emotions were like the blips of a heart 
monitor, jumping from low to high, though in a much 
less steady beat than a healthy heart would make.

"Please..." she pleaded. "Please don't tell our 
mother." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Do not worry, little rabbit." said the man, turning to 
face down the fence line. "I may be a horrible old man, 
but I have a heart."

Then, ignoring them, he trudged along the fence away 
from them.

Left alone, the threat receding from them, and their 
sudden gift of strength just as suddenly gone, the 
teens slumped. Debbie flowed into her brother's arms, 
but this time it was for comfort, rather than erotic 
thrill.

"What are we going to do?" she moaned. It was a 
question she was asking a lot these days, but it didn't 
seem to have an answer.


Chapter Nine
============

Ramona noticed the subdued demeanor of her children at 
supper. Gone was their carefree exuberance and the 
laughter that went with it. She started to ask them 
what was wrong, but decided not to. In some ways her 
children seemed like strangers lately, but she chalked 
that up to puberty and the inner turmoil that all 
teenagers faced sooner or later as they grew to 
adulthood.

She had been happy that they were so light hearted, 
since she thought that would be a buffer to her 
announcement that she had some papers for Smith to sign 
and needed to take them to him that night. The result 
of her statement, made in passing, was not what she'd 
expected. She'd expected Debbie to make some snide 
comment about Smith, or object in some way. She'd 
expected Robby to just sit, silent, as he did so often 
when Smith was discussed.

Instead, Debbie turned red and shifted in her chair 
silently. It was Robby who spoke.

"I thought that was your job." he said, his fork 
suspended halfway to his mouth. "Why didn't you take 
them to him today?" He, too, looked uncomfortable, but 
not angry.

Ramona hadn't thought she'd be questioned like that, 
and her mind scrabbled for a believable answer.

"Well... um... they weren't ready in time." she said.

Robby, of course, knew exactly why his mother wanted to 
go see Smith. And, while the sight of the man rutting 
into his beautiful mother turned him on, it was also 
distasteful in some way he couldn't understand. The 
image of his mother's milky white breasts shaking as 
the man slammed into her was burned into his memory, as 
was her assent to being made pregnant. That just wasn't 
the woman who was sitting across the table from him 
now, and he didn't want her to go be that woman again.

"So, have him sign them tomorrow." he said, his voice 
tinged with surliness.

"I need to process them tomorrow." said his mother. 
"And I'm right here, next door. It'll save time if I 
take care of them tonight." She couldn't understand her 
children’s resistance to this, and it was a pivotal 
part of her plan to see her brother more often. She 
pushed that plan.

"In fact, I plan on seeing him a lot while I'm here at 
home. It's so much quicker than driving all the way 
over here during the day and wading through all those 
contractors." It sounded eminently reasonable to her, 
despite the fact that the bank was only six blocks from 
the manor.

"Yeah, right." said Robby heavily.

What was running through his mind was the fact that 
Smith knew the twins didn't like him, and that Smith 
had a piece of information that could ruin things even 
more than he had ruined things already. It was 
inevitable, based on what she had been doing with him, 
that she would see him again. It was also inevitable, 
in Robby's mind, that he would tell her what he had 
seen. At the same time, he hadn't seemed offended or 
outraged by what he'd caught them doing, and that 
seemed odd somehow too. His statement that he meant the 
siblings no harm also twisted in Robby's mind, because 
it didn't make sense either. Debbie had all but 
declared war on him, but he acted like nothing was 
wrong.

Ramona wanted to hear assent from her children... to 
have their permission to go next door more or less 
regularly, and because of that, she heard Robby's 
comment as grudging acceptance that her plan did, in 
fact, make sense. She missed completely the ambivalence 
flashing across her son's face.

Ramona made herself wash the dishes before she went to 
see her brother. While she felt no shame or guilt for 
what they shared, she knew that her feelings were 
driving her and she didn't like the feeling of not 
being in control. There had been a lot of upheaval in 
her world of late, and "deciding" what to do and when 
to do it helped her cope with the sensation of being 
adrift on a sea with no rudder.

But, as soon as her hands were dry, she picked up her 
briefcase and sang out that she'd be back in a while. 
Not waiting for an answer she hurried out to the car. 
She could have walked, but she felt like driving up to 
the house would look better in case some passerby saw 
her enter the estate.

As she sat in the car her pussy was already getting 
wet.

=======================================================
==

Debbie had been keeping tabs on her mother, and as soon 
as she heard the car door slam she ran to her brother's 
room. He was lying on the bed, a book open, but his 
eyes were staring at the ceiling.

"Come on" she said, her voice hushed for some reason. 
"She's going over there."

"Why should we go?" he asked, his voice dull. "We know 
what she's going to do."

"He might tell her!" she snapped. "We have to know if 
he tells her! Now come ON!"

Debbie grabbed his wrist and pulled as he sat up and 
rolled off the bed. When they got outside she kept 
pulling him as he tried to lag.

"Come ON Robby!" she snarled. "You want me to go by 
myself?"

For some reason the idea of Debbie being in the house 
alone... with Smith there... didn't sit well with 
Robby. He increased his pace. Soon they were slipping 
through the woods behind the house. It wasn't dark yet, 
and they had to wait while they surveyed the back of 
the house. Even more had changed since the last time 
they'd been there. The house was beginning to look like 
a house, rather than the wreck it had been ever since 
they'd put their eyes on it. Eventually they felt safe 
in going out into the open to reach the cellar steps. 

They darted down into the cellar and stopped only long 
enough to let their eyes adapt a little bit to the 
darkness. Then it was through the secret door and down 
the tunnel to the thick door with the ring on it. They 
eased it open to minimize the squeal of the hinges. 
Robby made a mental note for possibly the fifth or 
sixth time to bring oil with him the next time he came.

At the top of the stairs they stopped, unconsciously 
trying to get their breathing under control before 
going further. Debbie stepped forward first. She felt 
the slight tug as her ankle hit something, but the 
sensation went away almost immediately as the thread 
that had been stretched across the narrow hallway 
snapped. There was the sound of a dull thud up ahead of 
them somewhere, but no other noises, and they crept 
forward.

They heard voices in the dining room and stopped to see 
their mother standing, her briefcase hanging from one 
hand, her arm straight as Smith, without his disguise 
this time, kissed her firmly. His right hand cupped her 
left breast through her blouse.

When the kiss was over she sighed.

"I told the kids there were papers to be signed. I told 
them I'd have to do that a lot."

"Much has changed, dear Rami" said the man. "Things may 
not need to be kept secret much longer. I have much to 
tell you."

Both teens took in panicked breaths of air at that, but 
they had no chance to do more. 

"Then tell me in the bedroom." said their mother 
salaciously, "as we do what I love most in the world."

She set down the briefcase and pulled her lover toward 
the stairs, much like Debbie had pulled her own brother 
out of the house and toward the manor only moments 
before. There was more talk, but the kids were already 
moving toward the staircase that would lead them to the 
bedroom where they had witnessed what was about to 
happen again to their mother. They pressed their faces 
against the peep holes as their mother and Smith 
entered the room. Debbie's gut tightened as she saw 
that her mother's blouse was already unbuttoned, and 
that she had worn no bra to go "have papers signed." 
Another lie. She'd known it, of course, but the sight 
of her mother's real intentions made a knot in her 
stomach.

Smith, though, was not looking at his lover. Instead, 
his head swiveled around the room, his eyes low.

"Oh look" he said calmly. "A picture has fallen from 
the wall."

"Never mind that Bobby, I need you now." demanded 
Ramona, shrugging her blouse off and draping it across 
a chair. "Wouldn't you rather look at me than some old 
picture?" she asked coquettishly.

Now Smith's eyes went to his sister.

"Most assuredly" he said, smiling. He went to her and 
leaned over to suckle at an exposed and stiff nipple, 
his hand smoothing across the buttocks of her slacks. 
He kissed his way up to Ramona's lips as her fingers 
went to the buttons of his own shirt and began undoing 
them.

Robby, his gut tight too, couldn't, for some reason, 
watch his mother being ravished again. He hadn't yet 
analyzed the emotions associated with watching his 
beautiful mother be made love to. He hadn't yet 
realized that the twisting in his guts was because some 
part of him wanted to be the man rutting into her soft, 
white body. He pushed back from the wall as emotions 
raced through him and suddenly realized his prick was 
stone hard. His eyes went to his sister and he 
automatically retreated into something that brought 
them both pleasure... something that made the world 
feel right. He stepped behind her, reaching around to 
cup her breasts and press his erection into her 
buttocks, which were jutted out as she leaned forward 
to peer through the peep holes.

"What are you DOING?" she hissed.

"I don't want to watch them." he said. "I'd rather do 
this to you." 

His hands slid to her waist and up under her shirt to 
her own unfettered breasts, feeling for and squeezing 
her nipples slightly.

"Not here." she moaned. "Not now."

She was trying to listen, though, and Smith was saying 
something. She didn't have the time to make her brother 
stop. And the feelings coursing through her loins at 
what she was witnessing made what he was doing feel 
wonderful too.

"Shhh" she said to the wall, even though it was she who 
was making the most noise. "They're saying something."

Robby let his hands play across his sister's breasts, 
squeezing them and flicking the nipples, which stood up 
proudly to be squeezed and flicked. He pulled her shirt 
up to give his hands room to move without catching in 
the cloth and bunched it under her arm pits. She ground 
her buttocks against his hardon and he let his hands 
slide down her flat stomach to the fastening of her 
jeans shorts.

"Nooo" she whined.

"Come on" he whispered in her ear. "It'll feel good. 
What are they saying?"

What Smith was saying was: "Slow down, my sweet. As I 
said I have much to tell you."

Ramona wasn't interested in talk. She wanted her pussy 
stuffed, and her clitty abused.

"I can't stay long." she moaned. "Can't it wait?"

"I don't think so." he said, cupping her breasts, 
unable himself to keep his hands off her. "I think your 
children know more than they have admitted."

That caught Debbie's full attention and she froze as 
Robby got her shorts unbuttoned and started to slid his 
hand into her panties. Her automatic, completely 
unthinking response was to step to one side with each 
foot, giving his fingers room to play. But her 
attention was all on Smith.

"What?" her mood interrupted by mention of her 
children, Ramona's passion eased a bit. "What do you 
mean?"

"I told you someone had been in this house. Now I have 
reason to believe it's your children." he said flatly.

"What?!" asked Ramona, astonished. "That's impossible!" 
she said automatically.

Robby, not knowing what was being said, let his middle 
finger slip between his sister's slick labia and felt 
for her joy button while his other hand went back to 
cup a breast. Debbie, too enraptured by what she was 
hearing to pass the words along to her brother, held 
her breath.

"I saw them by the fence this afternoon." he said.

Debbie felt terror so great that what her brother was 
doing to her didn't penetrate her consciousness at all.

"That doesn't mean they've come in this house." said 
Ramona. "They've played in the woods since they were 
children."

"Played..." said Smith. "An interesting word, that." He 
looked directly at the bookcase, behind which Debbie 
and Robby were standing, as if he somehow knew she was 
there and watching. 

Debbie pushed off the wall, against her brother's 
unyielding body. His back hit the opposite wall because 
there was nowhere else for him to go.

"He's going to tell her." said Debbie, her voice 
choked.

"What?" asked Robby, thinking so intently about where 
his hand were, and how good if felt to feel her butt 
pressing against him, that he couldn't concentrate 
fully on what she'd just said.

Because Debbie had backed up, she didn't hear what 
Smith said next. It probably wouldn't have made any 
difference anyway, based on what happened next. There 
wouldn't have been time to do anything about it.

"Rami, darling, don't you remember the passages? The 
secret ways?"

Ramona's head snapped backward as if she had been 
slapped. Her last memory of the house was stepping 
quietly through the secret hallway between the walls, 
as her parents screamed. They had hidden there as the 
screams turned to gurgling moans and then stopped. They 
had waited in the dark until they had heard no noises 
for a long time. Robert had just barely been able to 
reach the release that let them through the wall into 
their parents' bedroom. There had been bright red 
spatters everywhere, but they hadn't understood it was 
blood. Blood came in small drops, from the prick of a 
thorn, not in amounts so much that it looked like 
paint. She remembered her mother's eyes, open and 
staring, but her mother wouldn't say anything. That's 
what had frightened Ramona, and when she had started 
crying.

She shook her head. She hadn't thought of the secret 
places in the house for a long long time. She watched 
as Robert suddenly stepped toward the bookcase and 
reached for the hidden latch.

Debbie, horrified by what she was sure was about to be 
told to her mother, leaned forward again just in time 
to see Smith, facing her, his body only a foot away. 
There was a loud snap, and then a creak, and the wall 
in front of her moved away from her face. She fell 
forward as the support she had been depending on 
disappeared. Only her brother's hands, one cupping her 
naked breast, and the other with its finger buried in 
her pussy, saved her from falling forward. 

She squinted as she was suddenly bathed in light.

"Ahhhh, said Smith in his disguised gravelly voice. 
"The rabbits have returned."

================================================

Ramona looked unbelievingly at what was exposed when 
the bookcase swung open on creaking hinges. There, to 
her astonished gaze, was revealed her daughter, whose 
shirt was up around her neck. Her arms were out in 
front of her like she had pushed the bookcase open. 
Ramona’s mind did a little dancing twist. Something 
wasn’t right here. She was finally able to process the 
information that, despite the fact that both of 
Debbie’s hands were in plain sight, there was a hand 
cupping one of her naked breasts AND another hand that 
was down in the opening of her shorts, which were 
unbuttoned and unzipped!

Ramona reeled as the body behind her daughter moved and 
a head appeared over Debbie’s shoulder. She recognized 
as Robby. The concept that her son was standing behind 
her daughter, and that he was feeling her breast and 
had his hand stuck down her pants was strange enough. 
The fact that they were in the secret passageway of the 
Nettleton Mansion made it all surreal. Then, the fact 
that she was standing topless in the same house, and 
that her children could see that, flipped some switch 
in her brain that suggested a light nap might be in 
order. Consciousness left her, her vision fading into 
black as she crumpled to the floor.

At first Debbie couldn’t see anything because the 
sudden light made her pupils slam closed. She knew, 
though, that Smith and her mother could see her and she 
was suddenly aware of exactly where Robby’s hands were. 
She gave a little shriek and slapped at the hand 
holding her breast, hitting the breast instead, which 
hurt. Robby’s hand jerked away, though, and she pulled 
at his other hand, dragging it out of her pants. Her 
vision began to sharpen about the time her mother’s 
collapsing body came into focus.

"MOMMY!" she screamed, and lurched forward into the 
room, brushing past Smith as if he didn’t exist. 

Robby stumbled forward too as the pressure pushing his 
back against the wall vanished and he found himself 
face to face with Smith. Well, perhaps face to face 
wasn’t the best term, since Smith’s face was turned 
toward Robby’s mother, who was lying in an boneless 
pile on the floor. Both men surged as one toward the 
fallen woman. 

By the time they got there Debbie was already kneeling, 
hovering over her mother’s body, her fingertips 
touching Ramona’s face as she cried "MOMMY! MOMMY 
WHAT’S WRONG?"

Smith knelt beside her, moving Ramona’s arms around to 
a more comfortable position, laying her out on her 
back.

"I think she has only fainted. Seeing you two was more 
than she could deal with." he said, his face beside 
Debbie’s.

"She looks DEAD!" wailed Debbie.

"No" said Smith forcefully. "See, she breathes." He 
placed his hand flat on their mother’s naked chest, 
between her breasts. Ramona moaned and her head rolled 
to one side.

Debbie slapped at Smith’s arm forcefully.

"Get your hands OFF her!" she yelled. "This is all YOUR 
FAULT!"

Smith rocked back on his calves. "Everything is my 
fault, eh little rabbit?"

"AND STOP CALLING ME THAT!" yelled Debbie, turning her 
pale face up with a horrible grimace.

"What then should I call you?" he asked, not at all 
disturbed by her anger.

"HELP MY MOTHER!" demanded Debbie.

"Perhaps you should close your pants before she 
awakens." suggested Smith. "I think perhaps seeing your 
brother’s hands on your beautiful body may have been 
part of why she is like this."

The shock of his words hit Debbie as if he’s slapped 
her. She jumped to her feet and fumbled frantically 
with her shorts, re-fastening what Robby had undone. 
Then she tugged at her shirt, pulling it back down to 
cover her breasts. She was about to shout at the man 
again when her mother’s hazel eyes opened.

"Debbie?" she said, as if she wasn’t sure it really was 
her daughter. Then her eyes went to the man beside her. 
"Bobby?"

"I’m here my sweet." he said soothingly. 

Ramona smiled, still not back to the present 
completely. A face appeared over her brother’s 
shoulder, peering down at her anxiously.

"Robby?" she said, her voice dreamlike. Then: "Bobby, 
why are my children here?"

"I think they’ve been spying on us my darling." said 
Smith, as if he were only saying that perhaps it would 
be good to have tomatoes with supper.

"Spying?" came Ramona’s plaintive reply. Her eyes 
cleared suddenly. The transition was stark and obvious 
and astonishing.

"SPYING!?" she gasped. She lifted her head and saw her 
own naked breasts. The magnitude of what was happening 
penetrated and she rolled over, covering her head with 
her arms. She began sobbing, her naked shoulders 
shaking as if she were a rat in a terrier’s jaws.

Debbie’s primary concern, up to that point, had been 
that she and Robby had been caught, and that her mother 
would suddenly hate her for what they’d done. That self 
centeredness was normal for a teenager, for a human at 
almost any stage of development. And, when her mother 
began sobbing, she naturally believed that it was from 
the disappointment she had just been exposed to. Her 
mother’s emotion dislodged all her own, and she began 
to sniffle and cry too. Her anguish grew as she 
realized that all her secrets were about to be made 
bare, exposed to the mother she loved. She couldn’t 
bear keeping them any longer though and she collapsed 
on top of her mother, sobbing herself and begging for 
forgiveness. She was crying so hard that she couldn’t 
make her words intelligible, but she confessed to 
everything she could think of that she had done to 
disappoint her mother, begging for forgiveness.

The men watched as the firestorm of emotion swept 
through the women. Robby felt twinges of guilt, but not 
anything even close to what his sister was going 
through. Some of that was because, while he had been 
caught with his hands in his sister’s pants, he had 
also caught this other man having sex with his mother. 
Robby, as the man of the family, acknowledged or not, 
felt quite a bit of ownership over his mother and had 
no problem whatsoever interceding for her if he 
perceived she was in some kind of danger or stress.

On the other hand, he recognized that their mother, 
being caught as she had been, must feel like she had 
let her children down. He agreed with that, though he 
couldn’t articulate why, but he loved her, and his 
forgiveness for that aspect of things was both sincere 
and immediate.

The only person present who was not in a Gordian knot 
of emotional turmoil was Robert Ellsworth Nettleton, 
who among all of them, was the only person who knew 
that sooner or later, when all this was sorted out, 
there would be many more smiles and many fewer tears.

Or so he hoped.

He turned to look at Robby, whose attention was on his 
mother. This was the first chance Robert had had to 
really examine the boy. He was a strapping lad, that 
much was plain, with strong features... Nettleton 
features. There were old photographs put away in this 
house somewhere that, he thought, would look a lot like 
this boy. The dress in those pictures would be 
different, of course, but there would be no doubt that 
this boy was a Nettleton. 

He couldn't see much of the girl, hunched over her 
mother as she was. He had looked at her closely when he 
had been to their home for that one disastrous meal. 
She bore some resemblance to her mother, enough that 
one would guess they were related, but she didn't 
really look much like Ramona had when she had been that 
age. Ramona, in those days, had maintained a hunched, 
banal appearance. She had wanted to blend in, to be 
overlooked. This girl could not be overlooked. She was 
fresh and vibrant and beautiful in a way that made a 
man's pants feel tight. And what a temper she had. Her 
flashing eyes could cut deep if she wanted them to.

He turned to the boy. "See to your mother." he 
commanded.

Robby jerked at the tone of command, and flashed a 
dagger-like look at the man.

"She needs to know you still love her." added Robert.

Robby's eyes widened. "Of course I still love her." he 
said. "But she probably doesn't love me any more."

"I suspect you are quite wrong in that assumption." 
said Robert. "That we will see soon enough. But now she 
needs you."

Robby went and knelt by his mother and sister, placing 
a hand on Debbie's back and his mother's naked 
shoulder. Her skin felt warm and smooth, like his 
sister's.

Robert went to the discarded blouse and picked it up, 
taking it to stand beside the three members of the 
Franklin family. He handed it to Robby.

Ramona felt her daughter's body pressing on her back, 
and her daughter's tears falling on her naked skin. 
Debbie's litany of "I'm so sorry", said over and over 
again penetrated her consciousness. She felt surprise, 
and welcomed it as it displaced a measure of her own 
shame. That helped her think a bit more clearly, and it 
suddenly popped into her mind that her daughter... her 
children... were here... in the mansion... in the 
secret passageway she hadn't though of since that 
horrible night when her brother had led her through it 
to hide from the screams.

Her head twisted to the side and she tried to look 
through her hair, which was stuck to her face by her 
tears.

"What are YOU doing here?" she moaned between sobs.

Debbie wasn't in much better shape. She was 
experiencing a wide range of emotions. There was the 
anger at Smith, the lust her brother's hand had 
awakened in her as he had stroked her behind the wall, 
the shame of being caught peeking, the shame of being 
caught with her brother's hands on her body, the 
surprise and shock of being exposed in general, and the 
fear that her mother wouldn't love her any more. They 
all added up to a condition that almost left her 
paralyzed, and she couldn't speak clearly. Instead she 
just clung to her mother.

Robby felt a lot of those emotions too, but they didn't 
affect him quite ass strongly as they did his sister. 
What bubbled to the surface of his mind was Smith's 
insistence that his mother needed him. He held out her 
blouse, dangling it over the pair of women on the 
floor, but didn't know what to do next.

It was Robert who brought a measure of organization to 
the chaos that was immobilizing the three Franklins in 
the room.

"Here!" he said forcefully. "Rami, sit up." His hand 
went gently to Debbie's shoulder and put pressure on it 
to get her off her mother's body. She was so upset that 
she didn't even think to slap at that hated hand, or 
demand that he remove it. She rose to her knees, 
exposing her mother's naked back.

"Rami!" said Robert, again, forcefully. "Your son has 
your blouse."

Ramona brushed her hair away from her face and saw 
Robby then, the blouse dangling from his hand as he 
knelt beside her. That blouse would cover her 
nakedness, and her brain suggested she should get it 
quickly. She pushed herself off the floor, sitting and 
exposing her nakedness to her son as she snatched at 
the garment. He took it back and spread it behind her, 
as if he were helping her put on a coat and she 
shrugged into it, pulling it closed across her breasts. 
Her fingers fumbled at the buttons. She kept her head 
down, unable to look at either of her children.

"I don't understand." she moaned.

"Things are not as they seem." said Robert. "Things are 
not as bad as they seem." he restated.

That was such an odd statement that all three of the 
others turned their faces to stare at him.

"Come" he said. "All of you. We have much to discuss. 
Then, perhaps you will understand."

He moved toward the door, to lead them out of the 
bedroom. They hesitated, but, unable to make their own 
decisions about what to do next, they began to follow 
him. He led them to the dining room, which had enough 
chairs for them all and pulled one out for Ramona.

"Sit down." he suggested, and she sank into the chair.

He pulled another one out for Debbie, who balked and 
stepped away from him.

"Sit!" he commanded.

Debbie looked at Robby, whose face was slack, as if he 
weren't all there.

"SIT!" thundered Robert.

Debbie sank quickly into the chair and sighed with 
relief as Smith stepped away from her.

"You too young man" he said. "Sit, and we'll talk."

Finally Debbie's voice was under her control.

"TALK!?" she yelled. "All this has happened and you 
just want to TALK?!"

"You wish to know who I am, correct? You wish to know 
why your mother and I love each other, yes? You have 
many questions. I think talking is a good thing at this 
time." he said simply.

Debbie was speechless. It was true that she wanted to 
know all those things. But his clear offer to answer 
them was so unsuspected, that she was unprepared to 
actually ask a question.

"And," he went on smiling. "I think your mother should 
understand what she just saw, and what I saw earlier 
today." It was clear, at least to the children, that he 
was referring to the unconventional relationship Debbie 
had with Robby.

Debbie slumped, and the fear that had abated returned 
full force.

Ramona listened to her brother's words, and she was 
reminded of what she HAD seen... her son's hands... on 
her daughter's body... touching her sexually. What had 
he said about earlier?

"What?" she asked. Her head felt like there was a hive 
of bees inside it, and she couldn't think because of 
all the buzzing thoughts that caromed around in her 
brain. "What happened earlier?"

"I told you I saw them by the fence this afternoon."

Ramona nodded, straining to remember what else he had 
said.

"They were embracing." he said, and then paused, almost 
as if he were teasing. "They were kissing."

Debbie's head went down. Robby looked around wildly, as 
if he were looking for a good place to hide.

The effect this had on Ramona was startling. Her head 
came up sharply and she brushed her hair from her eyes, 
which were wide with comprehension, at last.

"Kissing?" she said, almost in a whisper.

"Yes... kissing." said Robert. "I found it most 
interesting, my sweet."

"But that means..." Ramona said. 

"That means they are like us." said Robert gently.

That statement didn't make any sense to either of the 
teens, but there was something in Smith's voice that 
caused both of them to turn their eyes to him. They 
said nothing, but just stared.

"I thought about the signs that someone had been in the 
mansion. The only way they could have gotten in was 
through the secret ways, so I examined them and found 
many footprints in the dust. I thought that, if it was 
your children, they might have used the secret ways to 
try to spy... and that they might have seen things they 
do not understand."

Everyone was still staring at him, captivated by his 
words.

"And so I set a trap, suspending that picture," he 
pointed back toward the room they had left, "by a 
threat that would be broken if anyone used the secret 
ways. When I saw that you were here, and that the 
picture had fallen, I suspected I would find the spies 
behind the wall." He grinned. "It appears I was 
correct."

Then he quit smiling.

"I think it is time they learned who I am." said the 
man called Smith.

Even though he was the one talking, both children's 
eyes went immediately to their mother, who was sitting 
upright, and looking MUCH less unhappy than they 
expected her to. While she was not smiling, she was at 
least composed, and her crying had vanished as if it 
had never been there except for a slight darkness to 
her eyes and the shine of tears on her cheeks.

Ramona wiped at that dampness, her eyes going from her 
son's eyes to her daughter's. She took a breath.

"Children, I'd like to introduce you to your Uncle... 
Robert Nettleton."


Chapter Ten
===========

There was silence after Ramona's pronouncement that not 
only was Smith... not Smith... he was also their uncle.

Debbie managed to make the first noise. "But we don't 
HAVE an uncle!" she gasped.

"Am I then a ghost?" asked Robert, smiling. "Perhaps 
one of the ghosts you say inhabit my house?"

There was, despite the emotion and uncertainty of the 
moment, a subtle shift in Debbie's thinking. Her 
rational brain accepted that this man was Robert 
Nettleton, whatever that meant. She didn't believe her 
mother would simply lie to her about that. While she 
didn't understand what that meant yet, her mind DID 
accept that this was a Nettleton, and that he had the 
right to say it was "his" house.

"You're dead!" choked Robby.

Robert kept smiling and addressed Ramona. "Your 
children have an uncanny ability to communicate with 
ghosts, it appears."

Ramona, after getting her last sentence out of her 
mouth, had been unable to go on. She hadn't been 
prepared to tell her children about Robert, much less 
about what she and Robert shared. But, during the 
silence and interchange between the children and 
Robert, she had thought frantically about his 
statement... that Debbie and Robby had been kissing in 
the woods... and what she had seen them doing as the 
bookcase was opened. She had thought about what that 
meant, and it allowed her to go on.

"Children," she started, her voice that of a mother. 
"My sweet darlings," she said, altering her voice to 
try to express the love and excitement that was welling 
in her chest. "I couldn't tell you about Robert. There 
were... difficulties. I didn't tell you about so many 
things. I was worried that it would affect you badly. I 
have so much to tell you I don't know where to start."

"Nettleton!" said Debbie suddenly. "ROBERT Nettleton!" 
She looked at the man in awe. "You're the little boy... 
your parents... you found them..." Her face filled with 
grief at what this man's memories must contain.

Robert's face didn't smile now. "Your grandparents. 
Yes, Rami and I found them. It was a bad time."

"No!" said Debbie just as suddenly. "Your sister's name 
was Elizabeth. We read it in the papers!"

"Papers?" asked Ramona, not understanding.

"Yes!" said Debbie. "At the library. They had old 
newspapers. They had stories in them about what 
happened. We read them." she said, looking wonderingly 
at her... uncle." She looked at her mother, her face 
twisted with questions. "The papers said Robert and 
Elizabeth Nettleton. And your maiden name was Shanks." 
She shook her head, denying what she had been told in 
this room.

Robert held up his hand. "Be at peace child. We can 
explain all this to you."

"I'm NOT a child!" Debbie said, her anger sudden and 
hot.

"No," mused her uncle, looking at her in a way that 
made her feel uncomfortable. "I suppose you are not at 
that." He smiled again. "You are a beautiful young 
woman. Please accept my apologies." 

He stared at her a little longer. Then, "Your mother 
changed her name after the... when we were in foster 
care. Things were very difficult for us then. People 
thought we carried some kind of curse. We were in 
boarding school for some years, and when we came back 
we didn't talk much about who she was."

Ramona joined in, having something now she could talk 
about.

"He didn't care. About our name, I mean. I wanted to 
forget everything. We went first to a place that was 
horrible, and they wouldn't let me see Robert. I hated 
that place. Then, suddenly they took us to live with a 
nice woman, who cared for us and loved us. She was so 
nice to us. But then she got sick and had to go away. 
Our new guardian was a cold man, and there were other 
children in the house who treated us badly. They called 
me names."

She trailed off, her face sad. Then she went on.

Even at the boarding school people looked at me 
strangely when they heard my real name. So when our 
guardian suggested that I take his name I agreed. 
Anything that would cause people not to stare at me I 
thought was a good thing. I began using my middle name 
too, Ramona, instead of Elizabeth. All I wanted was to 
be invisible... to be left alone."

Debbie's heart was breaking at the story. She realized 
there were unshed tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" she asked. "Daddy never 
said anything either."

"I never told your father who I was." said their 
mother. "When we married and he brought me to our new 
home he had no idea it was next door to the place I 
hated more than anywhere else in the world. I couldn't 
tell him. He was so proud and we loved each other. 
Then, when you were so young he was taken from us. I 
blamed the house... this house. Maybe we ARE cursed." 
she gave in a low cry.

"Nonsense!" said Robert. "Things happen in this big 
wide world. Some are good and some not. Life is what 
you make of it. You were happy with Richard, yes? And 
your wonderful children? Did they not make you 
gloriously happy?"

"Of course" said Ramona sitting up straighter. "They 
were my whole life."

"And all that happiness took place next to this house, 
did it not?" he pressed.

"Well, yes, but..."

"That is why I came back here." he said. "I knew that I 
could find happiness here, near to you. And I knew that 
if, for some reason you were not happy, I could give 
you happiness." It was an egotistical statement to 
make... the assumption that her happiness depended on 
him.

Yet, he spoke mere fact. Both of them remembered the 
only happiness they had experienced as they were 
growing up in a harsh world, the happiness they felt 
when they were together. And, while their sexual 
passion for each other was unbridled, that was not the 
primary reason for their happiness together. They 
shared so many things that no one else in the world 
could understand. Their bond had been forged with a 
heavy hammer, and they were welded together beyond 
anyone's ability to separate. To Ramona, his statement 
did not come as one of self importance. 

Still, she had spent a long time alone, with only her 
children.

"You took your time coming back to make me so 
gloriously happy." she commented dryly.

He actually bowed to her. It was a movement that looked 
natural to him, as if he had been raised in an 
environment where bowing was normal.

"I wanted to come sooner, but could not. When you 
stopped writing I used some of my money to have men 
check on you." He smiled at her reaction to having been 
survielled without her knowledge. "I know, it was a 
terrible thing to do, but I had to know whether you 
were well or not. I lived in the most squalid 
conditions, with people who had only two sticks to rub 
together to make fire. When the reports came that you 
were doing well, I knew that those people needed me 
more than you did. When they were finally able to feed 
themselves, and had the knowledge to carry on, I came 
here instead of finding another destitute village. I 
found that I needed you, as much as I thought you might 
need me."

That speech brought back into the light what the 
children had peeked at those several times... what they 
had been spying upon when they were caught.

"But..." squeaked Debbie, "You're brother and sister!"

"As are you two." said Robert smoothly.

That caused both teens to blush and avert their eyes.

Ramona was thinking what they were thinking.

"How could this happen? Between you two I mean?" she 
asked.

"How did it happen between us?" asked Robert, looking 
at her intently.

"That was different. We were alone in the world. You 
gave me love and tenderness." she said.

"Is it so different for two children who have lost 
their father to accident, rather than crime?" asked her 
brother. "They have still lost their father, and are 
growing up alone in one sense. The world is just as 
harsh a place today as it was then. They have fared 
better, perhaps, but it has still been difficult for 
them."

He turned his eyes on the children.

Robby found his voice. He was amazed by all he had 
heard, and had been content just to listen. But now he 
spoke.

"Our lives have been wonderful." he said. "I hardly 
remember my father. We have no complaints at all!"

"This is wonderful for me to hear." said their newly 
discovered uncle. "Perhaps I have spent too many years 
with people who had to struggle every minute to make 
their lives bearable. I know I felt as if I were more 
blessed than possible when I saw what they had to live 
like day in and day out. Perhaps I am jaded."

"I still need you." said Ramona. She darted a glance at 
her children. While their lives might have been 
carefree, hers had not. She didn't know how to explain 
that to them without making it sound like they weren't 
worth everything she'd had to go through.

"You have to understand," she said to them. "I wouldn't 
change anything if it meant that you would disappear 
from my life. I love you more than life itself. But I 
have never loved a man like I love this man."

"Not even Daddy?" asked Debbie, who had only the 
vaguest fragmented memories of the man she had just 
named.

"I loved him." said Ramona firmly. "He loved me and 
saved my life. He gave me you two, and YOU saved my 
life when he was taken from us. It's hard for me to 
explain, but when we were little, Robert saved my life 
too. Without Robert I would have wasted away and died 
of a broken heart. I love him too, and I always will. I 
cannot change that."

"This is all so strange." said Debbie. She looked at 
the man who, until an hour ago she had called "Smith" 
and hated. Now she didn't know how to feel about him. 
She had a sudden thought.

"Then this IS our house!" she yipped. She realized how 
that sounded and restated it. "I mean, our grandparents 
lived here, and YOU lived here, Mommy. That's YOUR 
bedroom upstairs... the one with the girl's things in 
it!" She looked at her uncle. "And the one with the 
toys! That one was YOUR room!"

"How do you KNOW all this?" cried her mother. She 
suddenly remembered them in the secret passageway. "How 
did you know about the secret places?"

That led to another hour of discussion and explanation 
as the children confessed to their countless trips to 
the house, how they'd found the bent place in the 
fence, and then the root cellar and its secret tunnel. 
They talked about the games they played. They left out 
the sexual games -that was still something they were 
uncomfortable discussing - but described how they had 
found things, and what they had thought of the things 
they found, and how they had felt at home here, like 
they belonged in this place.

"I never knew." said Ramona. "My own children, spending 
hours and hours here and I never knew!"

"We were afraid you would have forbidden us to come 
back if you ever caught us." said Debbie.

"You were right." said their mother firmly. "I would 
most certainly have done that. I can't believe you kept 
that secret from me!"

"Like you kept the secret of who that horrible bearded 
man was when he came to our house? When he ruined 
everything?" Debbie shot back. Then her head jerked as 
she realized what she'd said. "I mean it's not really 
ruined, I guess. But it was then." She got flustered.

"I always hoped that once this place was restored to 
it's original condition that I might lure your mother 
and you to live here with me." said their uncle. "I 
hadn't planned on suggesting that until you had gotten 
to know me, but such is life."

And THAT led to another hour of discussion about why 
the disguises and subterfuge had all been necessary 
when Robert first came back... was STILL necessary for 
another few weeks at least.

And THAT led to an attempt to discuss, on the part of 
the kids at least, where the money was coming from to 
do the extensive restoration that was going on. Neither 
of the teens was stupid, and they knew that it was 
going to cost more money than they could imagine to 
complete the task.

"Your Grandfather's fortune was passed on to us." said 
Robert simply.

"I don't know about you," said Debbie, "but WE 
certainly don't have any fortune."

She looked at her mother, who was looking at her folded 
hands on top of the dining room table.

Ramona talked to her hands. "There are several other 
things I never told you."

And THAT led to Debbie attempting to grill her mother 
about money, at which point Robby stood up and said 
"I'm starving. Can't we get something to eat before we 
do any more talking?"

Debbie was obviously consumed with curiosity about the 
"Nettleton fortune", but Ramona stood up too.

"An excellent idea!" she said. "Be patient Debbie, we 
can talk about all this more later."

Debbie groaned and made much of being told to be 
"patient" again. She did, however, reflect for a moment 
on how much information she had gotten in the last few 
hours, and how many of her questions had been answered, 
albeit in an astonishing manner. So she clamped her 
jaws together and stood up too, at which time she 
realized she was also ravenous.

"Would it be all right if I invite your Uncle to dinner 
again?" Ramona asked. Her voice was neutral.

Both kids looked at each other. This wasn't anything 
even remotely like what they had expected when they 
wondered who Smith was, and it was all so new that they 
still didn't know how they felt about things yet. But 
he WAS their uncle, and their mother DID love him.

"Of course." said Robby, speaking for both of them.

"We'll call for pizza." said Ramona. "When was the last 
time you had pizza Bobby?" she asked.

"I can't even remember." he grinned. "Must I wear my 
disguise, just to go next door?"

"You do and I won't speak to you." growled Debbie. But 
she smiled tentatively too. "I have more questions."

"I can't wait to give you answers." said her "new" 
uncle.

Ramona, who had driven her car to the house, found her 
briefcase and told the kids to come with her. Robert 
suggested that by going the secret way, he could get to 
the back of the house without being seen. He asked 
Robby and Debbie to go with him, and they immediately 
agreed.

Ramona said she'd get pizzas on the way. 

The siblings and their uncle, who grabbed a flashlight, 
entered the passageway through the same bookcase they'd 
been uncovered behind, pulling it closed behind them. 
Then they led their uncle back down to the tunnel. The 
only thing they'd ever used for light was candles, and 
the flashlight made it seem both lighter, where they 
were standing, and much darker, where the light did not 
penetrate. When they got to the root cellar and Robby 
pushed the shelf/door open he commented on how amazing 
it was that a mere six year old boy could have opened 
the heavy door.

"There was a counterweight on it back then" said 
Robert. "And the hinges were oiled. It opened quite 
easily. I imagine the rope has broken over the years. 
I'll have to add that to my very long list of things to 
repair." 

They led him up the stairs into the darkening evening, 
and then through the trees to the fence. They were 
surprised when he was able to fit through the fence 
too.'

"This opening must have been made by the men who killed 
your Grandparents." said Robert sadly. I saw it the 
other day, when I caught... when I saw you two. But I 
didn't think anything of it then. From now on you may 
enter the estate through the gate. There are other 
smaller gates also, but all are chained and locked with 
rusty old locks."

"Are we really going to live in the manor?" asked 
Debbie.

Her uncle walked along for a few more steps before he 
spoke. "Nothing would please me more." he said. "But 
that it up to your mother. I have no claim to her, 
other than blood. She may not wish to give up the home 
in which you were raised. And the mansion has bad 
memories for her. I have laid those ghosts to rest, but 
I don't know if Rami will be able to do that."

Robby spoke, his voice surprisingly adult. "You really 
love her, don't you." It was more of a statement than a 
question.

Robert nodded. "I love her above all else. Were I 
destitute, the only thing I would crave is her love."

"But you're NOT destitute." said Debbie. "How much 
money do you have?" She couldn't resist asking and, as 
a mere teenager, she had not learned of the unwritten 
rules of society that frowned mightily on asking such a 
question.

Robert laughed. "I have a lot. Your mother probably has 
more. She has never touched her inheritance. I have 
spent some of mine."

"You didn't answer my question." said Debbie, stopping 
at the edge of the forest. "How much?"

"You will have to ask your mother that question." said 
her uncle with a gleam in his eye. "As I recall she 
wanted to wait to talk about that."

"Oooooo!" said a frustrated Debbie. "You two MUST be 
brother and sister! You're both driving me crazy!" She 
stomped off toward the house.

Robert and Robby watched her go. Both men watched her 
butt cheeks lift and drop as she strode along. 

"She has so much passion. I think I am envious of you 
nephew." said Robert.

Robby shook his head slowly. He, like his uncle, was 
watching the rise and fall of Debbie's buttocks as she 
stomped across the yard. "You have no idea." he said. 
"But I think that's what makes her irresistible to me." 
He looked at his uncle. "I think I might be a little 
envious of you too." he said, ready to back up if 
things turned ugly.

"Your mother is a beautiful and passionate woman too." 
said Robert, completely unfazed at the idea that this 
boy might lust for his own mother. "I am the luckiest 
of men in the world." He grinned. "Except perhaps for 
you."

They hurried after Debbie, not so much because they 
were in a hurry, but because she was getting too far 
away to watch. She got in the door before them and 
slammed it behind her. 

They found Debbie hounding her mother, who was setting 
out the fine china again, even though all they'd eat on 
it was pizza. Ramona, recovered somewhat from the 
ordeal she'd just been through, seemed to be ignoring 
her daughter. When the men came in Ramona turned to 
them.

"Take your uncle and show him the house." she said 
tersely. "And take your sister with you." It was 
apparent she was not as oblivious of Debbie's repeated 
attempts to find out how rich the family was as it had 
first seemed.

"Maaahm" came Debbie's drawn out moan.

"Go." said Ramona, unrepentant at her own obstinacy.

Debbie dragged her feet on the carpet as the men turned 
toward the hallway. She followed them silently as they 
went to Robby's room and various things Robby was proud 
of were pointed out. Then they showed him the bathroom 
and her mother's room. Robert stood in the middle of 
Ramona's bedroom and took in deep breaths.

"This place smells like my sister." he said smiling.

But when they got to Debbie's room she stood in the 
doorway, facing them.

"I'm still not sure I like you." she said, obviously 
still in a funk. "My room is private."

Robby rolled his eyes and started to move her by force, 
but his uncle stopped him.

"One must always respect a lady's boudoir" he said. 
"Perhaps one day I shall see it." He turned toward the 
living room. There was no place else to see in the 
modest house.

Robby shot his sister a dark look and then followed 
Robert. Debbie stood uncertainly in her doorway and 
then finally followed the men.

The arrival of the pizzas interrupted any attempt by 
Debbie to pick up where she'd left off. She didn't 
really know why she was so interested in how much money 
her uncle and mother had inherited. Had someone asked 
her what she'd buy if she had more money she'd have 
been hard pressed to come up with more than a few new 
outfits and perhaps her own stereo system. She was 
still too young to think about cars and college and 
things like that. Her needs were pretty well met 
already. But still, she wondered, and her stubborn 
nature made her pursue the answer.

Finally, when the boxes lay empty and grease stained, 
and they all felt full enough that all they wanted to 
do was sit and rest, Robert leaned back and sighed.

"Now, what do you want to know?"

"How much money do we have?" Debbie promptly asked.

Ramona sighed.

"That money, the money that is in the bank, came from 
the death of my parents. They were murdered for that 
money. And we don't need it. We have everything we need 
already. I had thought a little about using some of it 
to send you two to college, but I have never wanted 
that money. It is blood money."

Debbie started to say something but her mother held up 
her hand.

"And, if you suddenly have a lot of money, it changes 
things. People treat you differently. They want some of 
your money. There are some who want all of your money. 
They don't care about you... just the money. Even your 
friends will act differently toward you. They say 
things like "Well you have more than you need, so give 
me some." And even if it is your money, to do with what 
you wish, if you do not give them some they feel like 
you have taken something from them. Money is not a bad 
thing, but the lust for money has caused more pain than 
all the wars in history. I don't want you two to have 
to face that pain."

Debbie thought about that for a minute. "OK" she said 
finally. "So... if we said we didn't WANT any of that 
money... would you tell us how much there is?"

Robert laughed, a long, loud belly laugh. Debbie 
frowned at him, but he held up his hand.

"I'm sorry." he said. "It's just that it is very hard 
to 'not want' money when you know it is there. But 
there are ways. Let me ask you this. Are you thirsty?"

Debbie looked confused. "Thirsty?"

"Yes" said her uncle. "Are you thirsty for a drink of 
water right now?"

"No." said Debbie, still confused.

"But you will BE thirsty some time in the future, yes?"

"Well of course." said Debbie. "But what does that have 
to do with anything?"

"Money is like that." said Robert. "At some point you 
become very thirsty. If water is scarce, then thirst is 
a horrible thing. But if you can just turn on the tap 
any time you wish then water means very little, yes?"

"It still means a lot if you're really thirsty." said 
Robby.

"True" said Robert. "But, most of the time, you don't 
think about the water in the faucet, yes? Only when you 
are thirsty."

Both kids nodded.

"Then, you must look at your money like it is water. 
When you have great thirst, it is good to have. But one 
must not think of it all the time and give it inflated 
importance. Do you understand this?"

Again both kids nodded. Debbie shook her head then. 
"But money ISN'T water. There's water everywhere. 
There's so much water that you couldn't drink it all. 
That's why you don't think about it all the time."

"And this money that you are so interested in." said 
Robert. "What if there were more of it than you could 
ever spend? Would you then lose some of your interest 
in it?"

Debbie blinked. "That would have to be a LOT of money." 
she said.

"How much is a lot?" asked her uncle. "Hundreds? 
Thousands? Millions?"

Debbie looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. Millions I 
guess."

"And how MANY millions?" he pressed. "Just millions? 
Tens of millions? Hundreds of millions?"

Debbie looked shocked. "I think a million or two would 
be more than anybody could spend." she said. "I mean 
unless they bought stupid expensive things that they 
don't really need."

"Then, my beautiful niece, let me assure you that your 
mother has more money than you, and your brother, and 
any additional brothers and sisters that may come along 
could ever spend. Just think of it as if it were 
water."

The first thing Debbie thought of was what her uncle 
had said in the woods... that her mother had more money 
than he did, because he had spent some of his and she 
had never touched hers. She looked at her Uncle.

"And you?" she asked again.

"The same." he said softly. "More than all of us could 
ever spend."

Debbie licked her lips and looked around.

"More than four million?" she asked.

"More than forty million." said her uncle.

Debbie's mouth hung open. "How?" she gasped.

Robert waved his hand. "The banks. They have kept our 
money, and used it and made money with it, paying us 
interest. The interest was added to what our parents 
left us and then they paid us interest on the interest. 
It is the way of banks. And it has been some thirty 
years they have done this."

Debbie couldn't breathe. "We're millionaires?" she 
squeaked.

"Many times over, my dear." said Robert.

"Wow." said a stunned Robby.

Ramona had to speak. "But we don't NEED millions to 
live. I LIKE our life the way it is now." She darted a 
look at her brother. "And now that Robert is back in my 
life I LOVE our life. We MUSTN'T let money change 
things! It could ruin everything!"

"One can drown in very little water." said Robert, 
nodding.

"Bobby," said Ramona. "I thought you couldn't receive 
your trust unless you graduated from college."

He nodded. "When I was in East Africa there was a need 
for both expertise and money in the tribes I was 
working with. They were just establishing the Royal 
College in Nairobi, and I managed to get a degree in 
engineering through them. Officially it was awarded by 
the University of London, but it satisfied the 
prerequisites for obtaining access to my trust. It made 
a huge difference in the good I was able to do in the 
following years."

His bland statement led to questions from both teens 
about where he'd been, and what he'd done, and that led 
to questions about the people he'd met and what they'd 
been like.

Ramona sat and listened to her brother with a warm 
feeling. Just looking at him and hearing his voice made 
her feel good. The mantle clock chimed and she listened 
with half an ear until it reached ten melodious clangs.

"It's late" she announced suddenly, interrupting her 
brother's account of working with the Masai. He was 
talking about Kali, a Swahili word for the hot, spicy 
food he loved. 

"We don't have anything to do tomorrow." objected 
Debbie. She and Robby both were completely enthralled 
by the stories their uncle had been telling them.

"Ah, hurul-ayni," he said to Debbie. "but I have much 
to do on the morrow, and need my rest." said their 
uncle.

"What does that mean?" asked Debbie, smiling.

"It is Swahili for 'beautiful maiden'" he said, bowing 
to her.

Debbie blushed, but grinned hugely too. Perhaps this 
strange man wasn't so bad after all.

"OK" said Debbie, her face slightly flushed. "But you 
have to promise to tell us more stories later."

"You are, of course, welcome in my home..." he looked 
at Ramona "OUR home, as far as I am concerned, any 
time. Any time at all." Again he bowed to the children. 
He saw their look of amusement and added, "It is a 
habit I acquired in foreign lands. It soothes people. 
They are more willing to hear you when you bow."

"So" said Debbie cheekily, "You're trying to sooth us?"

"You have made your dislike for me clear." said Robert.

"Well... yes." admitted Debbie. "But that was before we 
knew who you really were. I guess you're not so bad." 
she finished, unable to meet the eyes of the man she'd 
screamed her hate at.

"You have taken a huge weight from my shoulders." he 
said. "Perhaps some day I'll even be worth a hug."

The first thing Debbie thought of when he said the word 
"hug" was the hugs she'd seen her naked mother giving 
him, while he made passionate love to her. Debbie felt 
a rush of emotion that she wasn't able to categorize as 
being either good or bad.

"Yeah... well, some day." she said carefully. 

"Until then." he said, turning.

Something startling occured to Debbie suddenly and she 
turned to her mother. "Mom? Robert... Robby? Is Robby 
named after... him?"

Ramona nodded, her eyes turning to her brother, who 
finally looked startled.

"It was the only way I could have him near me at the 
time." she said. "Now, come. I'll take you home Bobby." 
said Ramona. "So you don't have to walk."

Robby barked a laugh, and when the adults looked at him 
he blushed. "Sorry" he said. "I was thinking of... 
never mind." he finished, also unable to meet his 
mother's and uncle's eyes. He had been thinking that 
every time his mother went to the manor she ended up 
naked with a stiff prick buried in her.

Robert smiled. "Perhaps you want to come with us?" he 
offered in a gracious voice. "You can watch without 
having to hide behind the walls if that is what you 
were thinking."

"BOBBY!" squealed Ramona. She reached out and slapped 
his arm.

Robby was so unnerved by his uncle's bland invitation 
to watch them have sex that he was momentarily lost for 
words. Finally he blurted out "Maybe later." Then he 
turned even redder and lay his head on the table with a 
moan.

Robert laughed. "Yes, I imagine you would like to be 
alone too, eh?" he said with a chuckle.

Ramona turned around and pointed at her children. "You 
two don't do ANYTHING until I get home. We have some 
things to talk about!"

Both kids just nodded, looking pale all of a sudden.

Ramona pushed her brother toward the door, still 
looking at her children. 

"And I'll be RIGHT back!" she said firmly. She then 
berated her brother as they went through the door, 
telling him he was shameless and crude and... The 
conversation, if it could be called that, was cut off 
by the door as it closed.


Chapter Eleven
==============

Debbie looked at Robby. "What do you think she's going 
to do?"

"I don't know. She said she'd be right back. Probably 
nothing." he said.

"I don’t' mean with HIM." said Debbie, rolling her 
eyes. "I meant about US!"

Robby looked at her miserably. "I don't know that 
either. Sounds like she doesn't like the idea of us 
doing... things."

"That's not fair." said Debbie, her stubbornness coming 
out in her voice. "THEY do things."

"Deb, they do a whole lot more than WE do." said her 
brother.

"Yeah, but not THAT much more." she said, still wanting 
to argue.

"Deb, I never thought of actually... DOING what they 
do." he said. "I mean I thought about it, but not like 
I was really going to try to get you to do that." he 
said. "Did YOU think about doing that? With me?"

Debbie felt another rush of emotion. "Not really." she 
said. "I like what we do just fine. I mean I've 
wondered what it might feel like. You know? But seeing 
them... and knowing who they are... I don't know how I 
feel any more."

"Well you better figure out how you feel, 'cause Mom 
said she wasn't going to be long." he said.

As if to punctuate his sentence they heard a car door 
slam outside. They waited and then tensed as their 
mother came through the door. She did, in fact, look 
unhappy.

"Sorry Mom." said Robby automatically.

"What, exactly, are you sorry for Robby?" asked Ramona. 
She was in full parent mode and wanted her children to 
articulate their errors in a way that would convince 
her that their breach of behavioral rules would not be 
repeated. It was something she'd done with them for 
years.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with Uncle 
Robert." he said sincerely.

"What?" asked Ramona, surprised by his statement.

"Well we kind of ruined your evening with him." said 
Robby. "And we're sorry. Aren't we?" he hinted to his 
sister, who was also looking at him strangely.

"I guess so." she said honestly.

The overwhelming nature of everything that had happened 
settled on Ramona like thickly falling snow. She had 
gone from being inflamed with passion for her brother's 
touch, to horrified and ashamed that her children had 
seen it, followed by absolute joy that her children 
still loved her. Upon the heels of that was her anger 
that they had lied to her all these years and her 
astonishment that they were having sex. She knew how 
she was supposed to feel about that, her own behavior 
not-withstanding - that was different... wasn't it? - 
and she had planned on laying down the law to them when 
she came in the door. Piled on top of that was the warm 
safe feeling she had enjoyed for most of the evening as 
they talked, like a real family, which was upset by her 
brother's completely tactless invitation for her 
children to watch him ravish her. It didn't help that 
he had begged for forgiveness, claiming that he was 
kidding... trying to shock the children further out of 
the opinion they had formed already about him.

It was all too much to think about... to deal with. She 
felt a need to just get away from it all, but she knew 
she couldn't. It left her feeling a little shell 
shocked. She sat down heavily on the couch and stared 
at her children.

"Mom?" asked her daughter. "Are you OK?"

"No." said Ramona. "I don't think I am. This is all so 
confusing."

Debbie, unfettered by all but her own concerns about 
how this was going to affect herself and her brother, 
spoke with typical teenaged innocence.

"What's to be confused about?" she asked. "Uncle Robert 
came back, and you're glad. It's true that you have bad 
memories about the manor, but he's fixing it up really 
nice and everything, and we can go visit him whenever 
we want to. I mean what's changed all that much?"

Ramona gave a strangled sound that was half laugh and 
have groan.

"How I wish it were all that simple." she said.

"Isn't it?" asked Debbie.

"Well, let's see." said Ramona. She ticked things off 
on her fingers. "The house I hoped would fall down into 
a pile of rubble is being rebuilt so it will NEVER fall 
down. My brother, against whom I have NO defenses 
whatsoever, is bound and determined to father a child 
on me! Meanwhile my children are busy trying to make 
babies of their own... together! People in town are 
going to just go NUTS when they find out that the meek 
little woman at the bank is, in actuality, Elizabeth 
Nettleton, the rich heiress of the Nettleton fortune. 
I'll probably be fired. My children are much too 
interested in money that I have, but don't want. Have I 
missed anything? Isn't there something else I've 
forgotten that can ruin our lives?"

Debbie looked startled as she realized that there were 
a lot of things she hadn't thought about.

Robby, perhaps because he was male, but not necessarily 
so, took a more pragmatic view of things. He too, 
ticked things off on his fingers.

"First of all, you don't ever have to go in the house 
next door again at all if you don't want to. Second, 
there are lots of ways to keep from having babies. If 
you don't want to have Uncle Robert's baby then just 
tell him so. Third, nobody in town has to know who you 
are now any more than they did last week. Everybody 
will know about Uncle Robert, but unless the two of you 
announce who you are, everybody in town will still thin 
you're the... what did you call it?... nice little 
woman at the bank? And you have the wrong idea about 
Debbie and me. We fool around a little bit, because we 
love each other, but we're not trying to make babies. 
We haven't done that at all. And they can't fire you 
just because you're Elizabeth Nettleton. It's not 
against the law to be Elizabeth Nettleton. And if the 
money is that horrible, then I agree with you that we 
don't need it. Give it away or something. I don't 
care."

He crossed his arms over his chest.

Debbie had been nodding her head... until he got to the 
part about giving away all the money. She wanted to 
complain about that, but she really felt her mother's 
distress, so she bit her lip. She could suggest some 
alternatives to that later.

Of it all, Ramona had zeroed in the most on his 
statement that he and Debbie "hadn't done that". 

"You two haven't had sex?" she asked, tentatively.

Debbie thought to reassure her mother. "Well, we have 
sex, but not like you and Uncle Robert."

Ramona didn't know what that meant. "Let's just talk 
about that." she said, glad to have picked one topic 
that could be explored, and which might be less 
unsettling than she had previously thought.

So they did, disregarding the fact that it was getting 
later and later. Ramona wasn't tired, and she was 
fascinated by what she was hearing from her children. 
It sounded to her like a carbon copy of what she and 
Robert had done when they were young... younger even 
than these two.

For their part, as the children realized she wasn't 
going to fly off in a rage every time they added 
something to their story, they felt much more 
comfortable telling it. They were amazed at how they 
got a sense of freedom out of giving up the secrets 
they had been so careful to keep. They had to include 
the things they had done in the house too... the 
dressing up... the fantasies they had acted out... 
basically a description of the childhood in the manor 
that Ramona had been robbed of.

When they were finished, Ramona sighed. She had heard a 
love story. That much was plain. What her children had 
done with each other was clearly based on their love 
for each other. She understood that. That understanding 
was the core of her own personality, based on the same 
kind of love she had for Robert. She found herself 
unable to judge their actions harshly... and she knew 
it. 

She looked at her watch and groaned. "It's very late." 
she said. "Unlike you two, who are carefree and able to 
sleep in, I have to get up and go to work. Off to bed." 

Debbie looked at her mother slyly. "If you used your 
money you wouldn't have to work any more at all." she 
said. "You could sleep in too, if you wanted to."

Ramona tried to glare at her daughter, but it just 
seemed to take too much energy. "I LIKE my job." she 
said shortly.

"We've seen how much you like your job." said Debbie 
innocently. "Several times. Like Robby said, sorry your 
job got messed up tonight." Her voice was so innocent 
that Ramona had to laugh.

"Go on. Off to bed. SEPARATE beds, my darlings." she 
said.

"We've never slept in the same bed." said Robby, trying 
to sound injured.

"Thank goodness for small miracles." said Ramona under 
her breath.

No one got to sleep easily in the Franklin household 
that night. Ramona thought about everything she'd heard 
her children telling her, and it brought out her love 
and affection for her brother, who was a few hundred 
yards away... quite possibly naked... quite possibly 
wasting perfectly good seed. That led her to think 
about what she'd said about him fathering a child on 
her, and she examined that from several different 
angles, trying to decide exactly how she felt about it 
while his prick WASN'T buried in her. She knew how she 
felt about it then.

Debbie lay in her bed, idly flicking her clitoris, also 
thinking about all that had happened. Even though her 
mother had specified separate beds, there had been no 
real heat in that order. Debbie clung to the hope that 
her mother could understand how she felt about Robby, 
not knowing her mother knew even better than she did 
herself. Debbie thought about what her mother had 
thought Debbie and Robby had been doing. She looked at 
that scenario from several different points of view, 
wondering again, what that might be like.

Robby also lay in his bed. The thing that kept coming 
back to his mind was his hand on his mother's naked 
shoulder, telling her that he loved her. He felt a 
distinctly un-son-like feeling in is groin for his 
mother... the same kind of thing he felt for his sister 
when they played. He examined that from several angles, 
trying to figure out whether it was good, bad, or 
indifferent. He found his answer when he suddenly 
realized his hand was firmly wrapped around his stiff 
cock, and that he was stroking it.

Next door, in the Nettleton mansion, Robert Nettleton 
lay in his bed too, also thinking about what had 
happened that evening. Neither his niece or nephew had 
screamed hate at him. Their love for each other, 
something he too understood completely, was now out in 
the open. He knew it could not be quashed, no matter 
what his more conservative sister thought. He wasn't 
too upset about how Rami had berated him as a pervert 
for offering to let the children watch him love their 
mother. He had noticed that the points of her nipples 
had pressed firmly through her blouse. She might not 
know it, but that "perversion" had appealed to 
something in her. "Methinks thou dost protest too 
much." he said out loud to his sister. Then he thought 
about how much turmoil he had caused in his lovely 
sister's life, and examined that from several 
directions, trying to see if he had covered everything 
in his plan. He smiled.

He had big plans for his sister. She didn't know them 
all. It would take time, but he was sure he could bring 
his plan to fruition. Perhaps, at last, the Nettleton 
curse could be broken. Thinking about his plan made him 
stiff, and he considered masturbating. Instead he 
rolled over and tried to find sleep. He would not waste 
his seed.

The next morning Debbie had to pull her mother out of 
bed, lecturing her on how she had to get up... had to 
go to work... had to be an adult. Ramona acted 
surprisingly like a teenage girl, snarling at the 
disruption of her sleep, moaning that she didn't want 
to get up. She was horny too, and that made her temper 
unruly. Debbie ignored her, much as a good mother would 
ignore the unthinking barbs that a daughter often 
throws at the mother making her do something she 
doesn't want to do. It was a remarkable reversal of 
roles.

Once she had pushed her mother out the door, kissing 
her and telling her she loved her, Debbie turned to her 
brother's room.

Robby was still asleep, though how he could have slept 
through the ranting and railing of his mother she could 
not guess. With economy of movement Debbie stripped off 
her sleepwear and ran her hand under the covers to find 
how her brother was clothed. 

Good. He had slept naked. She crawled into the bed, 
shivering at how warm it was. She cuddled up to her 
brother and closed her eyes, smelling his hair and the 
other scents that were... Robby. Even that didn't wake 
him. With her arm draped over him, her hand only inches 
from his penis, she drifted into that place between 
sleep and wakefulness.

At work Ramona drank a cup of coffee and felt a little 
better. She really did love her job. She got along well 
with everyone at the bank. She had been more 
comfortable as an invisible teller, but even now the 
sheen of being involved with the Nettleton account had 
dimmed a little and people were back to business as 
usual. 

There was a new pile of bills and invoices from 
contractors in her in box. She tackled them, using the 
nervous energy she had created by resisting her 
daughter. On one bill she noticed something familiar. 
She went into her files and pulled out another invoice. 
They were the same, though dated differently. Hoskins 
dry wall was trying to charge twice for the same work. 
It was a clumsy attempt at larceny. Only the dates had 
been changed. Even Robert's signature on the approval 
line was exactly the same. She frowned, her nervous 
energy being channeled into the heat of anger.

Renee Wright had known Ramona Franklin for more than 
six years. She was shocked as she walked by Ramona's 
new desk. Ramona's face was red and she was shouting 
into the phone. "And if you try this again I'll report 
you to the police!" snarled Ramona, slamming the phone 
down in the cradle. Renee looked at her friend like 
they'd never met.

"What was that all about?" she asked, leaning on the 
short partition in front of the desk.

"Hoskins drywall is trying to rip off my client!" said 
Ramona, reaching for her coffee cup, only to find it 
empty. She stood up to go get more.

"Well you go get 'em girl." said Renee. "We can't have 
our favorite client getting ripped off." She looked 
around like she was checking to see who could hear 
them. "Have you met him yet?" she asked.

"What?" said Ramona, distracted by her urge for 
caffeine. "Who?"

"Robert Nettleton, of course." said Renee. "I hear he's 
young and single. I don't know if he's good looking or 
not, but who cares with all that money he has?"

Ramona's radar lit up like a set of holiday lights. 
"I've talked to him." she said carefully. "He's pig 
headed." she added. She was horny and she blamed it on 
Robert Nettleton.

"I could get used to pig headed, if it came with fifty 
million dollars." Renee winked.

"You're married!" said Ramona.

"Too true." said Renee. "And I love Ted, but he doesn't 
have fifty million dollars."

Ramona was shocked. She hadn't thought about the fact 
that her brother would be considered "fair game" by 
conniving females in town. Even beyond town. It made 
her stomach hurt. 

"You'd leave Ted? Just for the money?" gasped Ramona.

Renee smiled brilliantly. "No. I really do love Ted. 
But a girl can dream... can't she? What about you? 
You've got the inside track here. Has he made any moves 
on you?" she whispered the last question.

Ramona felt herself blushing and tried in vain to stop 
it. "Of course not!" she said. Her blush continued 
because of the lie.

Renee laughed. "Well then, you'd better loosen up a 
little girl. He's the most eligible bachelor in the 
state - maybe in the five state region - and you're a 
good looking girl when you want to be. How about I take 
you shopping and see if we can come up with an outfit 
you can go on safari in?" She grinned from ear to ear.

The last thing Ramona thought she needed was a bunch of 
people poking into who Robert Nettleton was "seeing". 
No, now that she thought about it, the last thing she 
needed was a bunch of women trying to get her to 
introduce them to the most eligible bachelor in the 
five state region. No, now that she thought about it 
even more, the last thing she needed was to "get 
involved" with Robert Nettleton, and then for people to 
find out who she was.

"Thanks." she said, trying to defuse the situation. 
"But I'm happy with who I am. All that money comes with 
problems attached to it. You can be sure of that." she 
said firmly. "And I'm not about to become a dating 
service for that pig-headed man either, so spread that 
around. If anybody wants to meet him they can go to his 
drafty old house and knock on the door, just like 
anybody else."

"What does he look like?" asked Renee, not at all put 
off by Ramona's tirade.

"I don't know." lied Ramona. "I've only seen him once 
and that was just for a handshake in Peterson's office. 
I've talked to him on the phone a couple of times. All 
the face-to-face stuff is with Mister Smith."

Renee shuddered visibly. "That spooky old man?" she 
said. "He gives me the willies."

"Oh, he's nice enough, really. A little strange, but a 
nice man all things considered." said Ramona. "He's 
only going to be around for another few weeks."

"Well, you listen to me Ramona." said Renee. "Pig-
headed or not, there's going to be a stampede by a 
whole bunch of women trying to get their claws into 
Mister Robert Nettleton. You think about what I said. 
You're a sweet woman Ramona, and you deserve some 
happiness. And you DO have the inside track. don't 
throw away first crack at something that could be a 
nice thing." Renee blew an air kiss and wandered off 
toward her own desk.

Ramona sat and thought about what had just happened. It 
was true. Women would flock to try to net a catch like 
Robert. It made her stomach roil to think about any 
other woman in Robert's arms.

She stood up, grabbed her briefcase viciously, and 
stalked out of the bank toward her car.

=======================================================
==================

Robert was talking to an interior decorator about 
period wall paper and fabric choices when he saw 
Ramona's car speeding up the driveway. It was still 
gravel, and small stones spun from under her tires as 
the car swerved around a gradual corner. It didn't take 
a rocket scientist to see she was upset about 
something. He told the designer that expense was not an 
issue, and that he wanted authentic paper and cloth, 
and then excused himself to walk toward the car as it 
slid to a stop, scraping across the last five feet of 
gravel.

He opened the door of the car, noting that a plumber 
was standing and watching not far away.

"Mrs. Franklin!" he said loudly. "How good to see you 
again. Please, come inside and we can conduct whatever 
business seems to be so important that you spread my 
gravel all over the yard."

It was the kind of thing a foreman for a rich prick 
would say to an underling. The plumber turned around to 
get something out of his truck. He felt sorry for the 
poor woman in the car.

Ramona's funk was penetrated by the formal note in her 
brother's voice, and she got out of the car without 
saying anything. She let him lead her into the house, 
and up the stairs, into the bedroom. When he closed the 
door she flung herself into his arms, crying.

"Rami, my sweet, what's wrong?" he asked, stroking her 
back. There was nothing sexual in his touch; only the 
care and loving concern he felt for her.

"They're all going to be after you." she sobbed. "All 
those grasping women!"

Robert soothed her and took her to the love seat. He 
sat down beside her. '

"What are you talking about my darling?" he asked 
solicitously. "What grasping women?"

"You're the most eligible bachelor in five states!" 
cried Ramona. She broke into sobs again and leaned 
against Robert.

Slowly he worked out of her what had happened. She told 
him what Renee had said, and of her fears that some 
other woman would worm her way into his life, shutting 
her out.

Robert held her until she calmed, her crying finally 
fading to sniffles. There was a box of tissues on an 
end table and he offered her one.

"Love of my life." he started. She turned her tear-
filled eyes to his. "Did you really think there could 
be any other woman for me than you? I am laid low that 
you would even THINK that some... grasping woman... 
could ever be welcome here."

"But it's true!" moaned Ramona. "They'll hound you. 
They won't leave you alone. You're rich! Oh, how I HATE 
that money!" She started to cry again.

=======================================================
=====

Next door, at the Franklin household, the 'man' of the 
house smiled as his mind recognized that he was rising 
from slumber to wakefulness. That was a nice place. 
Good things happened in that place just before you 
actually woke up. Like now, for instance. He could feel 
a warm naked body cuddled up to his own. It felt so 
nice he didn't want to wake up at all. But he had to. 
His bladder was killing him. He opened his eyes, 
blinking at the sunlight coming through the windows. He 
must have slept late. Why could he still feel warm 
naked body against him?

He came awake quickly then, feeling what had to be his 
sister's arm draped over him. He could hear her slow 
breathing behind him... feel her warm breath on his 
neck. Now he could feel her breasts pressing into his 
back, and her legs against his. He lifted his head and 
looked at his alarm clock. Ten O’clock! He NEVER slept 
that late. Then again, it had been a late night. His 
bladder reminded him that, regardless of how nice this 
was, he had to get up. He rolled the opposite way he 
would usually get out of bed, sliding under Debbie's 
arm, which dropped to the bed softly.

"Mmmmmm" she complained, her own eyes opening and her 
tousled head lifting a little. "Why did you get up?" 
she complained.

"Gotta go." he said, his piss erection standing out 
straight and strong.

"Well hurry up." she grumbled. "You let the warm all 
out."

Robby did hurry, draining his bladder and then running 
on his tip toes back to his bedroom and the naked girl 
waiting in his bed.

"I liked it better the other way." she commented, 
peeking out from under the sheet at his now flaccid 
penis.

"Well, I'm sure you can do something about that if you 
want to." he said, climbing back under the sheet and 
pressing his front to hers.

They spent a while just kissing each other, their 
tongues dueling like flickering swords, and that caused 
them to move their bodies against each other, pushing, 
sliding and thrusting. Debbie purred as she felt her 
brother's prick get long and hard again, poking into 
her mound.

She broke the kiss and reached between them to wrap her 
hand around his maleness.

"Mom thought we were... fucking." she said, feeling a 
thrill at using a naughty word. "Have you ever wanted 
to... fuck me?" she whispered.

"I never really thought about that." said Robby into 
her mouth, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Until 
lately."

"I like what we do." she murmured, kissing the corner 
of his mouth, like he had kissed hers. "And if we... 
fucked... I might get pregnant."

"I know." he said, thrusting into her hand. "I'm happy 
with what we do." He thrust into her hand again. "It 
might feel good though."

"I love it when I feel all your warm stuff shooting on 
me." she sighed, moving his prick so it dug between her 
pussy lips and pressed against her clit.

"Maybe if I went into you just a little bit?" he asked.

"I don't know." she said, breathing faster as she 
rubbed herself off with the tip of his prick. "It might 
hurt."

"I don't want to hurt you." he whispered, thrusting 
again. His prick poked hard between her labia and 
stretched her opening before her tightness stopped him. 
she felt the stretching, but not as pain so much as the 
kind of discomfort you have when you want to take a 
bite of something and your mouth won't open wide enough 
to get the kind of bite you want. She lifted her top 
leg, trying to open herself up more, to see if that 
made the stretching sensation go away.

"Suck my nipples" she commanded.

Robby tried to duck his head to get a nipple, without 
making her let go of him. It didn't work, so he pushed 
her on her back and crawled between her legs, hovering 
over her as she automatically drew her knees up toward 
her chest to let him put his prick back in contact with 
her pussy. She had had to let go of him as he moved, 
and her hand found him again, grabbing him firmly and 
pulling his prick to her entrance.

In this position Robby could hunch and suck at her 
nipples while she again dug the head of his prick 
between her pussy lips and used that to massage her 
clit. Every so often she swabbed the tip down, into her 
vaginal opening, because that felt good too. It was 
just natural that, since she was pulling on him to get 
pressure on her clit, he helped by pushing. And, it was 
just natural that when she moved it to her pussy hole, 
he pushed then too, pressing against her maiden 
opening, as if knocking insistently at a door.

Debbie's hymen was the worse for wear, because her 
fingers had plumbed her depths on many occasions. It 
had suffered even more when Robby's thick finger dug 
into her. She had felt twinges of pain in the past, but 
they hadn't lasted, so she ignored them, just moving 
her fingers away from that side of her pussy where the 
twinges happened. Had her maidenhead been in less 
abused condition, it might have put up more resistance 
to Robby's prodding prick head.

But it wasn't in very good condition at all.

And, when Robby pushed a little more forcefully one 
time, and the head of his dick slipped through her 
tight sphincter, it happened so quickly that neither 
teen was prepared for it.

Suddenly... QUITE suddenly... The head of Robby's prick 
was surrounded by tight, hot, slippery pussy flesh, and 
Debbie's pussy lips complained as they were stretched 
farther than they ever had been before. That little 
place that gave her twinges occasionally gave a yelp of 
distress as what was left of her cherry was shredded 
and the tatters pushed out of the way. That his prick 
didn't go deeper was only because, as Robby had pushed 
in the past, he pushed only so hard... only hard enough 
to keep firm contact with his sister's pussy lips and 
mound.

"OH! Owww" moaned Debbie, as she was penetrated for the 
first time in her life by anything bigger than a 
finger.

Robby froze, hearing the distress in her voice. He also 
understood something new had happened, and had a pretty 
good idea of what that was. He left his knob securely 
locked in her, as her pussy lips closed tightly just 
below the neck under that head. 

"You OK?" he asked, breathlessly.

"It stings a little." she said, her voice not quite 
whining. "It's stretching me."

"You want me to take it out?" he asked. He gave a 
tentative pull, just enough to feel that he was firmly 
stuck in her, and that if he pulled out it would 
stretch her even more... or again, as the case was.

"No." she said. "Not yet. It doesn't feel so bad now. I 
think I'm stretching or something."

Robby was in a quandary. He knew enough about his penis 
that he knew it was bigger around in both directions 
from where it was so firmly gripped. It didn't matter 
if he went further in, or pulled back. The results 
would be the same. It would hurt her.

"Maybe I'd better take it out." he panted. It felt 
wonderful right where it was, but he didn't want to 
cause his sister pain.

"No, it's not so bad now. Just don't move for a minute, 
OK?" She was beginning to pant too.

"I have to do something." he said. "My back is starting 
to hurt."

"Suck my nipples some more." she said. She wanted to 
move her hips, but was afraid to. This was a whole new 
feeling. The top of his shaft, right behind the head, 
was in contact with her button, and she just knew that 
if she thrust upward that contact would increase. She 
wanted that contact to increase, but was also afraid 
the pain would come back.

Her mistake was that, whenever he sucked her nipples, 
her body did what it wanted to. She had never thought 
about the fact that as he sucked, her hips moved. And 
this time, when he sucked, and her hips moved, it 
achieved what she'd wanted to feel. Her pussy climbed 
the shaft of his penis about two inches and she was 
stretched again.

There were competing feelings. Her clit shouted "YES!" 
while her poor stretched pussy lips wailed "Noooooo" 
The slight tear that was all that was left of her hymen 
squealed and pumped a few drops of bright red blood out 
of that tear as the bottom of his shaft scraped along 
there, spreading that blood deeper into her channel. 
Her nipple, which was being sucked into her brother's 
mouth and bitten gently, added it's scream of "OH FUCK 
YES!" to the mix, and that was what overpowered the 
complaining parts.

Roby felt more of his prick enveloped by wet heat, but 
by then it was too late to do anything about it. He let 
her nipple pop out of his mouth and looked at her face. 
Her mouth was stretched into a grimace, her eyes 
tightly closed. She looked like she was in pain. He 
automatically started to pull back, pushing with his 
arms. He did it so quickly that it made a sucking 
popping sound as his prick was jerked out of her pussy.

Her eyes snapped open and her grimace went to a round 
shape.

"Nooooo don't take it out." she complained.

But it was too late. It was already out. They both 
looked down to see his hard cock suspended over her 
pussy. There was a sheen of moisture that went a third 
of the way up the shaft. It glistened like a coat of 
paint on his cock, with just the faintest tinge of pink 
to it.

"It was hurting you." he said, pushing up to sit on his 
calves and give his back muscles some relief. The sheet 
slid off his shoulders and fell on his heels. His 
sister's naked body lay spread eagle before him.

"It's COLD!" she said, reaching for him. "Come back." 
she sat up and grasped his shoulders, pulling at him. 
"And it felt good too."

Robby lay down beside her, pulling her on her side, to 
cover them with the sheet again and hug her. He kissed 
her lips.

"I don't want to hurt you." he said as she snuggled 
against him, trying to put as much of her skin against 
his warmth as possible.

"I told you it felt good too." she said. "It was 
starting to feel even better. Put it back in." she 
demanded.

"We can't." said Robby. "I told you. You could get 
pregnant."

"You can take it out when you squirt." she countered. 
Her hips were pushing against his penis, which was 
still hard.

"You really want me to?" he asked, unable to believe 
that she wanted something that hurt.

"Put it back in." she repeated.

It was, in one sense, mere exploration, just as they 
had done before. But feeling that penis in her vagina 
had awakened something in Debbie that had been 
peacefully asleep before now. She had known, on an 
intellectual level, what intercourse was, but had never 
really thought to try it. It was a little like seeing a 
food one had never tried, and thinking that it might be 
good... that it could be good... but never actually 
feeling like you wanted to put it in your mouth.

All that had changed as she felt the pain of, in a 
purely sexual sense, becoming a woman. Now the thing 
that had awakened deep in her brain had tasted that 
strange food and the sensations were both bitter and 
sweet. As if it had taste buds, her pussy wanted 
another sampling of that new delicacy... wanted a mouth 
full of that strange taste... so she could experience 
it to the fullest.

Therefore, when she pulled her brother back on top of 
her, and he tentatively pushed the crown of his iron 
hard penis between her pussy lips, she unthinkingly 
thrust up at him.

To take the food analogy just a bit further... she bit 
off a little more than she could comfortably chew.

Robby felt her pushing up at him and his natural 
response was to push back. They'd been doing that for a 
long time - pushing their loins at each other - but 
this time his prick, already lubricated with her slick 
juices, pushed into her like a hand fitting into a too-
tight glove. The stretching sensation started again at 
her pussy's mouth, as their lips went suddenly white 
and thin as they tried to expand around not only the 
head, but the shaft that followed. Then her tight pussy 
clenched as the sensitive tissues were forced apart.

Her immediate response was to take in a big breath to 
shout that it hurt and, at the same time, to drop her 
bottom back to the bed in an attempt to get away from 
the thing that was stretching her so cruelly.

Ironically, it was her body's attempt to get away from 
the skewering spear that dropped her clit into full 
contact with the top of his shaft as it went deep in 
her. By then there were only two or three inches of 
shaft left outside her body to scrape along her super-
sensitive bud, but those two or three inches made all 
the difference in the world. The fact that Robby's 
brain insisted on continuing to push once he was fully 
seated in her sex also caused his pubic bone to smash 
her clit as if it were trying to drive the little organ 
back into its protective sheath.

Her clitoris wasn't about to surrender, however. It 
fought back by engorging even more, becoming rubbery-
hard as it was over stimulated by pressure. It sent 
screaming signals along neural pathways, calling for 
relief.

The result was, that by the time her complaint of pain 
reached her mouth, with its jaws clamped firmly closed 
in a wide grimace, it turned from an expression of pain 
to a groan of satisfaction as her body got exactly what 
it had asked for... a pussy just stuffed to overflowing 
with a nice, long, hard male organ and the beginnings 
of a physical response called an orgasm rushing toward 
her like an ambulance hurrying to give aid.

Robby, meanwhile, was caught on the horns of another 
dilemma. As his penis was surrounded by hot pussy flesh 
that hugged him like a sexual bear-hug, he knew 
immediately that if he moved, even an inch, cum would 
boil out of the tip of his prick like steaming water 
gushed from Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park. 
It was partly that feeling that caused him to keep 
pushing, to stay as fully seated in his sister as it 
was possible for him to be. He felt panic, joy and 
ecstasy all at the same time. He was quite literally 
overwhelmed with sensations and feelings.

Debbie, as her clit fought for its life, felt something 
else, deeper inside her. It was another pain as the tip 
of her brother's prick, which had defeated her outer 
portal, found another doorway and tried to force its 
way through that one as well. Her virgin cervix refused 
to open, at least open enough to allow that invading 
monster to push into the womb those gates guarded, and 
that caused pain too. This pain was of a deeper type, 
not sharp and stinging, but a dull ache that was 
something like the ache in muscles that is eased by a 
good, long, body-bending stretch.

Her pussy muscles tried to adjust and do that 
stretching. What happened would probably have been 
called a spasm by a Doctor, as her abused muscles moved 
and shifted erratically, in almost a rippling motion. 
Her screaming clitty's message flashed along a nervous 
system that was overloaded with sensations. Her body's 
response to this overload of stimulation was to act a 
little bit like a circuit breaker. Except, in this 
case, when the switch kicked to "standby", it energized 
another circuit that her orgasm flowed along at 
something close to light speed. Most of her body went 
rigid, muscles locked temporarily in that "stand by" 
mode, as the spasms took all the body's resources and 
centered them on her pussy.

Robby too was dealing with an overload as Debbie's 
twitching cervical lips tried to close, then open, then 
close again, almost massaging the sensitive tip of his 
penis. With a helpless groan, Robby's body did exactly 
what it was designed to do. Automatic reflexes kicked 
in and his body expelled the fluid that would sooth the 
electric shocks that were torturing his penis. Creamy 
fluid filled the tiny tube that was the primary 
complainant in his body at the moment and, having no 
place else to go once it had served that purpose, 
jetted out of the tip of his cock, splashing all over 
Debbie's tight cervical mouth. Then, not satisfied that 
it had completely soothed his penis, his body served up 
four more helpings of that warm cream, to ensure that 
the stimulation was dealt with.

Debbie's cervix, told by some nervous communication 
involved with her orgasm, finally relaxed, the lips 
loosening fractionally and dipping outward to flow 
around the blunt thing trying to batter its way past 
them. Three soothing warm jets of fluid then splattered 
into the soft dark cave deep inside her body that was 
made to welcome that fluid.

In the space of some twenty or thirty seconds, a 
million nervous impulses did what they were designed to 
do and did it flawlessly. And, in the space of only 
four or five seconds, even more millions of healthy, 
viable sperm cells were transported from one human 
being into another. 

A miracle of nature had taken place in the space of a 
few breaths, and even fewer blinks of an eye.

Debbie felt, on some level, the rush of wet warmth that 
flowed into her body from her brother's penis. She was 
instantly addicted to the feeling. She was addicted 
before she had any conscious thought of what was really 
happening, or the consequences of those actions. On a 
purely metaphysical plane of existence, she knew she 
had found the thing that made her the happiest she had 
ever been thus far in her life.

Robby's experience was a bit more tortured. He knew 
exactly what was happening before it actually happened. 
He knew he was about to cum in his sister, and that 
there was nothing in the world he could do about it. He 
knew that even if he jerked his prick out of her, he 
couldn't do it before he spermed her pussy. In his 
mind's eye he knew he was going to fill his sister's 
belly with life and the electrons bouncing around in 
his brain visualized his emission as tiny full-formed 
fetuses being injected into her womb, where the 
thousands he saw would grow and burst from her body, 
destroying her like some alien plague.

Even as he felt the explosion of ecstasy that went 
along with his orgasm, he felt the misery of having 
ruined his sister's life. He berated himself, admitting 
that he knew better than to let her bully him into 
doing this thing. At the same time he felt his body 
insist that he stay right where he was until the last 
feeble clench in his groin expelled the last few 
straggling sperm cells from his body into hers.

Then, feeling completely miserable, he collapsed on top 
of her.

They lay there gasping for breath for a few minutes. 
Robby rehearsed in his mind the various ways he could 
apologize to his sister, who would now probably hate 
him for the rest of her life. He felt her hands come to 
his waist, and expected her to push as her angry 
outbursts began.

Instead her hands stroked along his sides, and up onto 
his back, and then down to his buttocks.

"Oh thank you Robby" she sighed. "Thank you so much."

Robby was stuck speechless.

Debbie squeezed him with her arms. "I completely 
understand why Mommy wants to do that now."

Robby found the energy to push with his arms, so he 
could look at his sister's face. Perhaps the 'alien 
invasion' had altered her already.

"I fucked you." he said. It was hard to tell if that 
was a question or statement. The words sounded harsh in 
his own mind, but that was how he characterized what 
had happened.

She just looked up at him adoringly, her eyes big and 
liquid brown suddenly.

"I wasn't supposed to do that." he croaked.

Debbie's hands left his sides, where they had come to 
rest. She grasped his head gently and pulled him down 
for a kiss. When it was done she let him go.

"When do you think you'll be able to fuck me again?" 
she asked. "You didn't go nearly as long as Mommy and 
Uncle Robert go."

Robby looked at her incredulously. He tried to roll off 
of her, but she gripped him and rolled with him until 
they were again lying side by side.

It took half an hour, but they talked about what had 
happened, and how each of them felt about it. Robby 
learned that, not counting the dangerous nature of the 
transfer of body fluids, he had done nothing but please 
his sister. She had already forgotten the pain and 
discomfort she had felt initially. She didn't care 
about the fact that he might have made her pregnant. 
She would care later, but she was still in the grip of 
the chemicals a woman's body produces during an orgasm 
that are designed specifically to encourage her to lie 
there afterward and let all that nice sperm soak in 
completely before she gets up. 

In the end he insisted that, IF they did this again, 
they had to do it only at times when she was unlikely 
to be fertile and that they had to try to find some way 
to acquire some rubbers. She, on the other hand, 
insisted that she would be extremely unhappy if he 
tried to keep her from enjoying this new thing they had 
found together, and that it WOULD happen again or he'd 
be sorry.

While it sounds like they argued, it wasn't really like 
that at all. It was more of a situation where each 
pleaded his or her case about what they wanted the 
future to be like. As with most teens, they couldn't 
see very far into the future, and their plans were, for 
the most part, short term. It was impossible, lying 
there in the afterglow of sex, even if it wasn't 'good 
sex' in a classical sense, not to give each other 
little loving touches and kisses. 

Once they had said what they felt the need to say, they 
kissed some more. It was comfortable lying there 
together. Their speech got less and less focused and, 
eventually, they drifted off to sleep in each other's 
arms.

That's how Ramona found them when she broke her routine 
and came home for lunch for only the third or forth 
time since she'd taken her job at the bank.


Chapter Twelve
==============

Ramona had entered the house with a lot on her mind. 
She'd been thinking about what she and her children had 
talked about the night before. She'd been thinking 
about what Renee had said. And, most lately on her 
mind, she'd been thinking about what she and Robert had 
just done, right next door. Robert had a singular way 
of trying to convince her that grasping women should be 
the least of her worries. His soothing voice had come 
with soothing hands and, like she always did when she 
was around him, she was soon panting with passion as he 
casually undressed her.

Then he had made love to her with his mouth, all over 
her body, driving her to distraction by bringing her 
close to an orgasm, but always pulling back before she 
got there. Somehow he had gotten naked while he did 
this, and when he stood to show her what she did to him 
he smiled. He had placed his open hand under his balls 
and that magnificent penis, like he was holding it, 
about to lift it away from his body to present to her.

"This is yours, Rami. It has no purpose but to pleasure 
you and give us children together. If you do not want 
it, then it shall lie unused for the rest of my life. 
You are my love, and I want no other."

She had burst into tears of mixed joy and hope and 
frustration that she couldn't just be like any other 
woman and love him and be allowed to love him. He had 
mounted her, somehow knowing that she wanted him and 
stroking her until her tears stopped flowing. She 
confessed her own love for him again and though they 
had done this many times, it was like the first time 
for her. He was gentle and brought her to an orgasm 
that was like being suddenly dipped in warm water when 
it's freezing outside. Then he came in her, flushing 
her full of warmth deep inside too.

Ramona's face got hot as she looked around the kitchen 
to see if her children were there, where they could see 
her reaction to remembering what had only happened 
thirty minutes ago. But they weren't there and it was 
quiet in the house.

Ramona went to her bedroom to change panties - the ones 
she'd put on for work this morning were no longer 
suitable to be worn in public - and she had to pass her 
daughter's bedroom on the way. The door had been 
carelessly left open and she saw the still forms of her 
son and daughter clasping each other under the light 
sheet.

Had Ramona not been in the afterglow of her own sexual 
release, and had not her brother taken from her the 
burden of worry and fear that had been laid upon her by 
her friend, she might not have reacted to what she saw 
in the way she did.

She stepped into the room and leaned over her children, 
seeing that they were both asleep. Their faces were 
beautiful and peaceful in repose and she reacted to 
that like all parents do when they see their sleeping 
children. There was an upwelling of love in her heart. 
She noticed their bare shoulders, and understood 
without having to look under the sheet that they were 
naked together. But she and Robert had just been naked 
together too. While she KNEW how that felt to her, she 
also knew of the difficulties that siblings could 
suffer when they had that kind of relationship. The 
world was a harsh and unforgiving place for siblings to 
be in love in. Before this moment she had been 
teetering toward trying to convince her children that 
what they felt was a dead end, and not worth the pain 
and stress of keeping it alive.

But, what had just happened between her and Robert was 
so powerful that she also knew that whatever means she 
tried to use to keep her children apart... it would 
fail.

She didn't wake them. Instead, she turned on her heel, 
did what she had come there to do, and went back to 
work.

=======================================================
===

That afternoon, Robert Ellsworth Nettleton appeared in 
court, where the last of his legal issues was brought 
to settlement. Robert, by use of well paid and 
experienced experts, showed beyond any doubt that the 
claims against his estate for "services rendered" were 
frivolous and without merit. The gavel sounded 
repeatedly as the ambulance chaser hired by greedy 
businessmen to plunder the Nettleton fortune sagged 
lower and lower into his chair. He had enjoyed visions 
of a hefty income, based on thirty percent of what he 
anticipated "recovering" for his clients. He had 
already spent those hundreds of thousands of dollars in 
his mind. He had thought that, when the judge scheduled 
all six cases for one hearing, that the judge had 
already decided to grant all his claims. Why else would 
a judge try to do that much business all at the same 
time? Instead, he began to wonder if he would still 
have a job when he went back to the city and reported 
complete failure. He berated himself for filing these 
cases in a jurisdiction that was in the middle of 
nowhere. He should have known not to let this hick 
judge hear these cases. 

"Mister Cochran." barked the judge when it was all 
over.

The lawyer stood and looked up at the old man on the 
bench. What did the old fart want now?

"If you ever appear in my court room again trying to 
commit robbery, I'll have your license and if things go 
like I want I'll have your balls too. Have I made 
myself perfectly clear?"

Jeff Cochran was stung. Nobody treated him that way 
back in the city. He was stiff with outrage as he 
responded. "Your honor," there was a hint of sarcasm as 
he said that, "I merely pursued the objectives of 
reputable businessmen and believed their claims to be 
legitimate. You can't fault me for that. That, sir, is 
what lawyers do."

The judge scowled. "You just remember what I said, 
young man. I doubt that will happen because you appear 
to me to be an idiot. Next time some fly-by-night 
contractor hires you, at least go look at what he 
claims to have done. Now, get out of my courtroom. I 
have REAL cases to hear!"

Robert, who had stood quietly as the exchanges took 
place, merely bowed toward the judge, by habit, and 
said "Thank you your honor."

The judge waved his hand. "Welcome back, sir. Some time 
we need to get together. I'd like to hear what you've 
been up to all these years."

Robert left the courtroom and went directly to another 
office in the courthouse, where he paid a reasonable 
fee for copies of certain documents on file there. 
These he placed in his briefcase before leaving the 
courthouse. 

When he went outside there was a man waiting for him. 
The man had a notebook and pencil in his hand.

"Mister Nettleton!" he called "Randy Stevens, of the 
Howard County Picayune. Could I have an interview 
please?"

"Certainly, mister Stevens. First a question for you, 
if you don't mind. What, exactly, is a 'picayune'?"

Randy looked confused. "It's a newspaper, sir." he 
said.

"I understand that," said Robert patiently, "But from 
where does that word come? What did it mean before 
somebody decided to use it as the name for a 
newspaper?"

Randy was still confused. He was all of twenty-six 
years old and, after graduating from college, had gone 
home to live with his parents and work for the biggest 
newspaper in the county. It had over two thousand 
subscribers, which seemed like an awful lot to Randy.

"I don't rightly know the answer to that, Mr. 
Nettleton."

"Ah," said Robert sagely. "No matter. I was just 
curious." Robert had been having a little fun, trying 
to needle the reporter. He was quite aware that a 
'picayune' was a half dime coin that had been in use in 
the South in years past. The dictionary definition 
these days was "something of little value".

Randy, on his first real live mission as a 'society 
reporter' just nodded and launched into what he thought 
were penetrating and important questions about what 
'the famous mister Nettleton' had been doing since the 
tragic death of his parents. All this was the result of 
his editor, one Hortence Robinson, age sixty, who had 
seen the court docket and recognized the Nettleton name 
from her youth. She had instructed her 'ace reporter' 
to "get on down there to Nettleton and get me something 
to put in the paper. It's been a slow week for news and 
I need to fill a couple of columns!"

Thus it was that Howard County and the city of 
Nettleton, found out that Robert Nettleton, the child 
of murdered parents, was back in his ancestral home, 
which was being refurbished in an attempt to restore it 
to it's historical splendor. Roughly two thousand and 
twenty people (twenty bought the paper from a machine 
at the local grocery store) were pleased to read that a 
nice young man who had done a whole lot of missionary 
work overseas in six different countries, had come back 
to spend some of his inheritance in Howard County. The 
only sad part of the story was that, over the years, he 
had lost touch with his sister, who had gone on to live 
her life in anonymity somewhere. If, as Randy pointed 
out sadly, she was even still alive. Hortence filled 
her two columns and was happy. What with people sharing 
newspapers like they did so often (to her 
disgruntlement), it was quite possible that as many as 
twenty-five hundred people in the county had read the 
story. And if THEY talked about it to their friends, 
maybe the other thirty thousand residents of the county 
would be spurred to buy a damned paper themselves!

=======================================================
===============

Ramona was glad to leave work that night. She needed to 
soak in a nice hot bath and relax. Her world had been 
turned upside down and, though it was beginning to 
settle, the world looked different to her than it had 
such a short time ago. She was astonished at the 
differences in the mansion. The landscaping was almost 
done, with the exception of the part of the yard that 
was reserved for contractor's vehicles to park in. A 
large Gazebo had been built on the front lawn, 
surrounded by flower gardens and a winding path of 
flagstone. Hedges had been planted that, when mature, 
would make walls along pathways, turning them into 
private places, almost like a maze. 

There was a fresh coat of paint on the structure. The 
shutters had been repaired, along with various portions 
of the facade and roof. The tower roof now gleamed with 
a new coverting of burnished copper. The carriage house 
had been renovated and even the old carriage in it had 
been lovingly restored by one of the few people in the 
country who knew how to do the work in the original 
fashion. 

The interior of the house looked like her dim memories 
of the home she was born into. There were some new 
things. She loved the stained glass windows and how 
they cast bright color over everything. Electricity had 
made a tremendous difference in the place, banishing 
gloom and dark corners to a past that was also becoming 
easier to make dim and unnoticeable. Robert had even 
restored her bedroom to it's exact appearance in her 
memory. Wood gleamed everywhere with oils and polish. 
The musty smell had gone with the original fabrics 
which had been replaced with authentic period designs.

She had noticed all these things in her last panicked 
trip to see Robert, and then had really SEEN them as 
she left. As she got in her car to go home and change 
panties she had realized that the house in her 
memories, the dark and forbidding place where so much 
pain had been felt, wasn't there any more. THIS house 
looked like a warm and inviting place, where only love 
might live. It was unsettling in a strange way, because 
she wasn't used to thinking about the Nettleton Mansion 
as anything but a sad, dismal and lonely place.

And then she'd come home to find her children naked in 
bed. That she'd left them alone still niggled at her. 
It seemed like everything in her life niggled at her 
right now. All she wanted to do was soak in the tub, 
with maybe a little Mahler playing softly on the record 
player. She wished she had a bottle of wine.

She entered the house to find that her children were 
preparing supper. They had put together a green bean 
casserole with crisped onions on top, and had made a 
valiant attempt at frying chicken, though the breading 
hadn't stuck and the pan was a bit too hot. There was a 
pot of semi-mashed potatoes on the stove. A little 
additional milk would finish them to a creamy texture. 
There was also the smell of baking bread in the room.

"You baked bread?!" she asked, incredulous.

"Well, sort of." said Debbie, a little uncertainly. "It 
didn't get all big and puffed up like when you do it.

Ramona looked into the oven and saw a loaf of bread 
about half as risen as it should have been.

Still, it made her heart warm to think that the 
children had done this for her. She announced that she 
was going to let them finish while she took a bath. She 
wouldn't get to soak quite as long as she'd planned, 
but it would be enough. She already felt better.

Ramona wrapped a towel around her head, turban style 
and donned her thick terrycloth robe, belting it 
tightly around her body. She put on her fluffy blue 
slippers and padded down to the kitchen. She paused in 
the doorway. Debbie was stirring the mashed potatoes 
industriously while Robby stood behind her, his arms 
around her. It was obvious his hand were on Debbie's 
breasts and she was wiggling her hips, pushing them 
into Robby's groin.

"Robby!" scolded the girl. "Behave yourself. Mom could 
be down any minute."

"I can't resist you." said her brother into the back of 
her head as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

"You're sweet," said Debbie, and Ramona could tell she 
meant it. "but knock it off. You're making me horny and 
dinner's almost ready."

"Put it on warm." suggested her brother. "Mom's 
probably still soaking. We could have a little fun 
before she gets done."

"Mom's DONE soaking." said Ramona, stepping into the 
kitchen. She almost laughed as Robby jerked his hands 
away from his sister's breasts and stepped back, 
looking embarrassed.

"Told you." said Debbie, looking over her shoulder at 
her brother. Her cheeks were a little pink.

"The bathroom is free." said Ramona, sitting down at 
the table. "In case you want to take a cold shower or 
something." She wanted to smile at Robby, but didn't. 
She didn't want to get into it with her children. Not 
only was she feeling better, she wasn't at all sure how 
much energy she could put into trying to make them 
stop. 

She changed the subject. "If not, I'm starved and it 
smells wonderful in here."

They sat down to eat and the tension drained away as 
they talked about inconsequential things. The food 
tasted good and, if there was a little burn on the 
chicken and the bread was heavy and dense, Ramona 
didn't care. It was the thought that counted, and she 
appreciated that.

That night they watched a movie together, all three 
sitting the couch, with Robby in the middle, sandwiched 
between the women. both leaned their heads on his 
shoulder. It was such a satisfying evening that Neither 
Ramona nor her children felt compelled to seek sex for 
the rest of the night.

The next day Ramona was at her desk, head down, going 
through the ever-increasing stack of bills and invoices 
associated with the renovation of the mansion when a 
shadow fell over her desk. She looked up to see her 
friend, Renee standing there.

"You have a visitor." she said, smiling like the cat 
that ate the canary. "I see now why you never answered 
my question about whether he was cute or not. I 
wouldn't want anybody to know what a hunk he is either 
if he were mine."

Ramona's gut clenched. Robert? Here? In daylight? 

Renee misinterpreted her look of consternation. "You 
want me to stall him while you go freshen up?" She 
looked absolutely delighted to be part of a conspiracy 
to bag a rich bachelor.

"That won't be necessary" said Robert's deep voice from 
behind Renee, who jumped visibly and blushed, having 
been caught in her self-started conspiracy. "Ms 
Franklin is quite lovely enough as she is, do you not 
think so?" he asked in his odd speech pattern.

Renee was quick on her feet, Ramona had to admit that. 
"Alas, for the rest of us, she is, indeed, quite 
beautiful as she is." She turned to Ramona and winked 
broadly. "Mister Nettleton is here to see you Ramona. 
Shall I get you both something to drink? We have... 
ah... water, I believe."

"If I were to drink anything, I should be forced to 
drink in the beauty of two such lovely women." said 
Robert, bowing. 

Renee flushed bright red at the compliment and gasped 
as Robert reached for her hand to kiss it.

"Ah..." he sighed. "I see that you have foolishly wed 
another man. Oh well, such is life. It shall be 
difficult, but I shall go on." 

He said it in a way that made it obvious he was poking 
a little fun at Renee. But the feel of his fingers on 
hers, and the thought of all that money made her pussy 
squirt. She removed her hand from his and, with a sigh, 
left for her own desk.

"What are you doing here?" whispered Ramona, staring up 
at her brother.

"Why, I'm visiting my account representative at this 
wonderful bank." he said. "Is this something I should 
not do?"

"But you're... YOU." she said.

He moved to the chair beside her desk and sat down, 
just as the president of the bank hurried up to her 
desk.

"Ah, Ramona... Mister Nettleton... we're honored that 
you visit with us today. I'm Frank Peterson, President 
of the bank. Would you like to move to the conference 
room? We can call out for some refreshments."

Robert stood. He assumed a somewhat stiff physical 
demeanor that was utterly alien to Ramona, and his head 
came up a trifle. There was a smile on his face, 
though, that softened the look of superiority.

"Thank you so much, kind sir." he said graciously. "I 
only wanted to come in and convey my thanks to this 
fine woman who has done such a wonderful job thus far 
in managing my accounts. I understand that she caught 
someone trying to take advantage of me and has resolved 
the matter. I appreciate it when someone cares for my 
welfare."

Frank fairly wiggled with excitement at Robert's words 
of praise for Ramona. "Well, we try to serve." he said 
happily. "And Ramona is one of our best." 

Ramona shot him an incredulous look at the blatant lie 
and then listened in disbelief as the man went on.

"As soon as your... ah... man... suggested her I knew 
you had instructed him to find only the cream of the 
crop. We treasure our Ramona here at the bank." he said 
importantly.

"Yes..." said Robert. "I'm sure you do. And now I 
treasure her too. Isn't that nice?" He reached over and 
patted Ramona's hand. "Thank you my dear. I have a lot 
of money, but I appreciate you saving some of it from 
that unscrupulous contractor. Perhaps you could let me 
express my thanks more effusively over dinner?"

Ramona couldn't believe what was going on around her. 
She was so unsettled that she parroted the company 
line. "Thanks so much, but employees aren't allowed to 
date customers."

"Nonsense!" barked the president, a small frown 
appearing between his eyebrows. "Mister Nettleton isn't 
just a customer. He's almost family."

It sounded ridiculous to everyone within earshot... and 
there were suddenly a LOT of employees within earshot. 
His comment about family, even though it was obviously 
ignorant of the true situation, struck Ramona like a 
blow. 

Almost as an afterthought Peterson went on. "And you 
two can discuss a little business at dinner. That will 
make it all perfectly on the up and up."

It was an almost blatant pimping of the resources of 
the bank, and everyone in the room knew it. Frank 
Peterson was all smiles though, as Robert nodded. 

"Yes, that would be fine. Alas, I have no automobile 
yet. Nor have I hired a chef. Would it be too base of 
me to call for you in a taxi this evening? Where would 
you like to go? I'm so new in town that I fear I have 
no idea of good places to eat."

Ramona saw Frank taking a breath that she feared would 
lead to all kinds of problems as he made what would 
likely be insane suggestions. Without thinking it 
through she spoke.

Mr. Nettleton, as it happens I live right next door to 
your house. Perhaps you'd like to just have dinner at 
my house. I have two children, but I'm sure they 
wouldn't mind having a guest for dinner."

Robert lit up, his smile wide. "What a stupendous 
idea." he said. "I accept!" He reached for her hand and 
kissed it like he had Renee's. "What time shall I be 
there?" he asked. "And which of my neighbors are you?"

His acting was impeccable to the point that Ramona even 
found herself believing he didn't know anything about 
her. She described how he could get to her house and 
suggested that she could have dinner ready by seven. He 
grinned and, whirled to find twenty people standing 
around the desk, staring at him.

"You have a wonderful bank." he pronounced, as if he 
had gathered them together intentionally and was now 
delivering a planned speech. "Thank you so much."

Then he strode for the front door, the sea of people 
parting before him as if he were a huge ship on the 
ocean.

There was a general babble of excitement when the front 
door closed, and several customers looked around, 
wondering what was going on, and why no one paid any 
attention to them at all. Frank Peterson shooed 
everyone back to their work stations and then turned to 
Ramona.

"I'll arrange for a catered meal immediately." he said 
brusquely.

"Sir," she objected. "He's only coming for dinner. He's 
just a man."

"No, Ramona" said Frank, that small frown back between 
his eyebrows again. "He is NOT just a man. He's a very 
RICH man. We only have one depositor who has more money 
in our bank than he does. That depositor is this man's 
sister, and we haven't heard from her in so long that 
I'm not sure she's even still alive." If this man 
withdraws his money from this bank, almost a third of 
our assets will disappear in a puff of smoke and I 
don't want to even THINK of that happening. Now, you go 
home and get ready. I really wish you hadn't offered to 
meet him at your house. Do I need to hire a cleaning 
team?"

Ramona's face had gone from pale, at his mention of 
Robert Nettleton’s sister, to pink and then a mottled 
reddish purple as this thoughtless man suggested her 
house wasn't a fit place to entertain one of the bank's 
customers.

"I do NOT need the services of a cleaning team, mister 
Peterson. And I do NOT need anyone to cook a decent 
meal for me and a guest! If you don't think I can 
adequately entertain Mister Nettleton I will most 
HAPPILY contact him and tell him that he's just going 
to have to HAVE DINNER WITH SOMEONE MORE ACCEPTABLE 
THAN I AM!"

When she was finished shouting she was breathing 
deeply, her shoulders rising and falling, her fists 
clenched. Frank Peterson recognized something that all 
men must learn to recognize, if they hope to survive in 
this world... the sound of a woman who is pissed off... 
and who is pissed off at HIM.

Everyone was staring at them again and Frank raised his 
hands. "OK, OK, Ramona I was just suggesting it so that 
you wouldn't have to take so much of your time to 
prepare. No harm done. In fact, take the rest of the 
day off. That way you won't have to hurry."

He abruptly turned and went back to his office. Ramona 
saw a few grins on the faces of her co-workers. She sat 
back down angrily, and began to sort her papers, 
getting ready to do just what Peterson had suggested - 
take the rest of the day off.

Renee appeared at her desk. That she was excited was 
evident in several ways. She was almost panting, her 
face was a wreath of smiles, and her nipples were 
poking firmly through her bra and blouse.

"He's GORGEOUS!" she whispered excitedly. "And he's 
coming to YOUR house for dinner!" She took a moment to 
breathe. "You want to send Robby and Debbie over to my 
house? So you two can be alone?"

Ramona, still furious, glared at her friend.

Once again Renee misunderstood what was going on in 
Ramona's mind. She held up one finger and pointed it at 
Ramona, like a knife that she meant to threaten her 
with.

"Now you listen to me Ramona Franklin. Don't screw this 
up. I don't care if he's quirky or even a pain in the 
ass, which he does NOT appear to be to me. You be NICE 
to him tonight. I swear I'll tear your hair out if you 
mess this up. You deserve to have a decent man in your 
life and he looks plenty decent to me."

Ramona's eyes had gone round with surprise at the 
forcefulness of Renee's admonitions.

Renee deflated, her anger melting away like a snowflake 
on a July day. She sat down at Ramona's desk and leaned 
close, speaking more softly, pleadingly.

"Come on sweetie, give the guy a chance. He likes you. 
I could see it in his eyes. Get to know him a little. 
What could it hurt. If he's really a jerk you can blow 
him off later. You'll never get another chance like 
this and maybe he could even make you happy."

Ramona sensed the honesty and care in Renee's voice, 
and felt a little guilty that Renee was pleading for 
something that had already been done.

"OK" she sighed. "I'll be good."

Renee grinned. "Excellent. But don't be good. Be bad. 
Be very bad. what size are you? I have this perfectly 
delicious little number that would look really good on 
you and leave him drooling. We're about the same size 
aren't we?" She nattered on, full of ideas of ways 
Ramona could seduce Robert Nettleton, while Ramona 
tried not to giggle and loved her friend for what she 
was trying to do.

In the end Ramona waited to leave until lunchtime, when 
Renee could run home and show Ramona the dress she 
wanted to offer for the seduction of Robert Nettleton. 
When Ramona saw it she actually blushed. It would show 
off almost every inch of skin on her body, and would 
allow access to every part of her without any barriers 
at all. It was a scandalous dress.

"I can't wear that in front of my children." protested 
Ramona.

"I told you, send them to my house. I'll order pizza. 
Teenagers love pizza. They'll be fine. What do they 
care about some guy coming to dinner anyway?"

"More than you might think." said Ramona without 
thinking. 

"Well, take the dress anyway. Talk to the kids when you 
get home. If they want to come visit aunty Renee then 
tell them they're welcome. OK?"

Ramona went one way while Renee went back to work. She 
parked the car and went in the house, carrying the 
scandalous strips of flimsily cloth that somebody had 
decided to call a dress. She was distracted enough that 
she didn't call out to her children.

Once again she approached her daughter's bedroom door, 
and once again it had been carelessly left open. Once 
again her children were in the bed together, and once 
again they were naked.

But they were most definitely not sleeping this time.

Debbie's elbows were hooked under her knees, which she 
had pulled up, toward her head and spread widely. Robby 
was between his sister's thighs, his hands on either 
side of her breasts. His lips were firmly suckling one 
of her nipples as he slid his long, hard teenage prick 
slowly in and out of his sister's pussy.

To Ramona it looked almost like a slow motion film. 
Robby's movements were measured and almost gentle, as 
if he were easing his penis into his sister's sex while 
she was asleep and he was trying not to wake her. When 
he reached full penetration he stopped, grinding his 
pelvis against hers before slowly dragging his penis 
out of her again. Only Debbie’s soft repeated "Yes... 
yes... Oh Robby", said at normal speed, spoiled the 
illusion that time had slowed.

Ramona's pussy squirted at the tenderness of the 
copulation going on before her eyes. She thought of her 
children's statement that they had never done this and 
felt the hurt of a parent lied to. Just then Debbie 
sighed.

"Oh Robby, I'm so glad we decided to try this. This is 
so... I feel so... I can't believe how much time we've 
wasted not doing this. I completely understand why 
Mommy wants to do this." Then she began to pant too 
hard to talk, and she pulled her knees harder, her head 
lifting off the bed. "Oh Robby, it's going to happen... 
Oh ROBBY! OHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMmmm"

Ramona's pussy clenched as she realized her daughter 
was having an orgasm. Even the orgasm seemed to be in 
slow motion, almost quiet and serene. At that moment, 
Ramona gave in. She recognized in her children the same 
love and affection and satisfaction she felt with her 
own brother, and had felt for years without any feeling 
of shame or guilt. Her children's lovemaking was so 
tender and sweet that she somehow knew it was as real 
as what she shared with Robert.

She stayed long enough to see Robby's buttocks clench, 
his penis fully embedded in his sister, as he gave a 
low groan of satisfaction. Ramona knew what was 
happening inside her daughter. She could almost feel 
the wet heat of Robby's sperm flowing in her own pussy.

She turned silently and tiptoed back the way she'd 
come. Dinner could wait. She needed to go see Robert.

She took the dress with her.


Chapter Thirteen
================

Ramona found her brother at the mansion. Again he was 
talking to a worker, this time about the choices for a 
heating system for both the house and the water system. 
The workman was suggesting that the house, even though 
renovated, was too big for a conventional system, and 
was recommending that a boiler be installed. It would 
handle all the heating needs and could be slaved to the 
new duct work being installed. Ramona stood quietly, 
waiting for them to finish.

Robert turned his head and saw Ramona. He smiled and 
told the man to do whatever he thought would lead to 
the best result.

Then he turned to Ramona, looking at the cloth in her 
hands.

"Renee gave me this to wear at dinner tonight." she 
said, by way of explanation. "She wants me to seduce 
you."

"Smart woman." he commented. "Perhaps you'd show me 
what the dress looks like now? Upstairs?" He grinned.

She wanted to take his hand and lead him there herself, 
but didn't. There were too many people around. "Yes." 
she said simply.

She followed him and, when they were locked in the 
master bedroom, he watched silently as she stripped in 
front of him. Naked, she stepped into the dress and 
pulled it up and onto her body. Her breasts were a 
little smaller than Renee's, and her nipples showed in 
the gap of the bodice. It was as if she was wearing 
almost nothing.

"It doesn't fit well." she said.

"Perhaps she'll tell you where she got it, so I can 
have one made to fit you better." he said.

She dropped the dress in answer. She was panting.

Their lovemaking was not, in any way, shape of form, 
slow motion in nature. Ramona was wild for him, her 
emotions having been at a peak ever since seeing her 
children on the bed. She told him what she'd seen, and 
then bit his shoulder, so intense was her first orgasm. 
He sensed her need and waited, controlling his own urge 
and pounding her through two more orgasms before he 
asked for, and received permission to jet her full of 
his seed.

As they lay spent in each other's arms, she kissed the 
teeth marks she had left in his shoulder.

"I hurt you! I'm sorry." she said.

"It was stupendous. You must spy on the children again 
sometime. It made you like a tigress."

She was both too relaxed to slap at him and too 
astonished that some part of her reacted positively to 
his suggestion to say anything. Instead she got up and 
got dressed and then went back home, making as much 
noise as she could both in the garage, and in the 
kitchen, banging cupboard doors and talking to herself 
as she got some juice to drink. She unconsciously took 
inventory of what there was to prepare for her 
brother's visit that night.

Debbie sauntered into the kitchen.

"Hi Mom." she said brightly. "What are you doing home 
so early?"

There wasn't anything in Debbie's voice that suggested 
that Ramona shouldn't come home early, or that maybe 
her mother was trying to spy on her children, but 
something deep in Ramona was tired of the secrets and 
the lies that had flowed around this household like 
smoke from a fire. It was an unconscious decision on 
her part to do what she did. One might say she was 
actually driven to do it in a sense. For whatever 
reason, she turned and spoke.

"I saw you this afternoon." she said, looking at her 
daughter. Debbie had a healthy glow about her, almost a 
radiance. Ramona had heard the coarse term "well 
fucked" but now she was seeing it and it made all kinds 
of sense. Her heart fluttered as she realized she 
probably looked exactly the same way. She felt 
fabulously fucked and it had to show.

"What? When?" asked Debbie, confused. They hadn't left 
the house all day. When their mother had left for work 
the teens had succumbed to a hormonal attack and had 
been trying to ease that itch all day long. Though 
Ramona didn't know it, the time she'd seen them was 
actually the fourth time that day that Robby had 
emptied his balls into his sister's well-fucked belly.

"About an hour ago." said Ramona, taking a drink of her 
juice.

"Oh." said Debbie, thinking furiously. There was only 
one place they had been an hour ago. They had spent the 
first half of the morning in Robby's room, when she 
snuck in and jumped on top of him and then got pinned 
like a 109 pound wrestler in a 135 pound match. Then 
they had transferred to her room for the slower, more 
sensual lovemaking, where she called the shots.

"OH!" said Debbie, her stomach doing flip flops.

"I thought you told me you two hadn't gone that far." 
said Ramona, her voice sounding unconcerned enough that 
it caught Debbie's ear and made her tense up.

"We didn't." said Debbie hurriedly. "Not until 
yesterday. When you left for work I went to tickle him 
and he got excited and then I got excited and..." She 
looked at her mother. Debbie knew that this was a time 
when things could work out for the good, or things 
could go horribly wrong. "I thought about you." Debbie 
said, stopping again. "I thought about how happy you 
were when you were with Uncle Robert and we were... 
watching." Debbie took a step toward her mother. "And I 
knew that you wouldn't do that unless it was something 
really special and important. And Robby's important to 
me, so I made him do it to me."

"You made him?" asked Ramona, impressed that her 
daughter had been not only willing to tell her what 
happened, but pretty capable to express her state of 
mind at the time too. Most kids just got carried away 
and did things without thinking at all.

"He didn't want to at first." said Debbie. "He was 
afraid it would hurt me."

"And did it?" Ramona was shocked that she'd asked.

"It did at first. But Mommy, you know what it's like. I 
could hear it in your voice. And now I understand, 
because I felt it too. I never felt anything like that 
before."

"So you wanted to feel it again today." prompted 
Ramona.

"Yes." said her daughter, hanging her head. "Do you 
hate me now?"

Ramona reached out and took Debbie in her arms. 

"No, baby, I don't hate you. I'm afraid for you. I 
worry that this will hurt you later, but I don't hate 
you. I love you. I told you that will never change.

The tension that was in Debbie broke and she cried on 
her mother's shoulder, mixed tears of relief, and 
happiness, and grief for making her mother worry. "He 
loves me mother, and I love him so much I can't tell 
you how much." she cried into her mother's hair.

Ramona smoothed her hands over her daughter's back. "I 
know, sweetheart, I know. I understand exactly how you 
feel."

That was pretty much it. There were no protestations 
that they wouldn't do it again, and no threats about 
what would happen if they did. The mother/daughter 
relationship had fled by all that, leaving it in the 
dust as each accepted in the other some things they 
might have wished were different.

"Your uncle is coming to dinner tonight." said Ramona.

Debbie pushed back. "Really? I don't hate him any more 
Mom." 

Ramona laughed. "I can't stay mad at him either. It's 
terrible. He came into the bank today and asked me out 
on a date!"

Debbie made shocked sounds and then demanded to know 
everything. Like two best friends they chattered 
together as Ramona started pulling things out of the 
fridge to make a salad and described everything that 
had happened, like one girl telling another how a date 
with an interesting boy had gone. 

Their squeals and laughter brought Robby to the 
kitchen, looking surprised.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Debbie held up a finger to her mother. "Don't tell him. 
I want to tell him later, OK?"

Ramona nodded, surprised, thinking that Debbie meant 
Robert was coming over that night. But, as Debbie then 
launched into a retelling of what had happened at the 
bank Ramona realized that Debbie wanted to talk to her 
lover about being discovered - while they were alone. 
That was OK with Ramona. She'd had enough drama for the 
day.

When Debbie got to the part where Renee had invited the 
kids over for pizza to let Ramona be alone with the 
rich man so she could seduce him, she giggled, enjoying 
the same irony that Ramona had.

Robby had been grinning for some time. "So, you want us 
to do that Mom?" he asked. "Go over to Renee's I mean?"

Ramona felt a rush of tenderness. Her children were 
going to let her have her happiness. But she shook her 
head. "No, that would be too out of character for me. 
We're going to have to make it look like I'm playing 
hard to get." She realized, as soon as she said it, 
that it sounded like she was going to let people think 
there WAS something between her and Robert Nettleton. 
That thought buzzed in her brain and her alarm bells 
went off. What she and Robert had must remain a secret. 
All would be lost if anyone besides her children found 
out.

The kids exploded into action, running around, cleaning 
the already-clean house, like they had before the last 
disaster that had been a visit for dinner by Robert 
Nettleton. This time they would know who he was, and 
what that meant to their mother. This time it would go 
much better.

Robert showed up at the front door precisely on time, 
and he had both a bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses 
in his hands. It was Debbie who answered the door, 
based on her mother's frantic shout that she was at a 
critical point in the gravy making and couldn't leave 
the stove.

While there is no scientific proof to back this up, the 
author is quite convinced there's a gene in females of 
the species that is there just to make sure that, when 
a woman sees flowers in a man's hand, her sex drive 
kicks in. Debbie had never received flowers from a man, 
but she had that gene, and it kicked in. It kicked in 
even though Debbie's conscious mind knew quite clearly 
that the flowers were for her mother, and not for her. 
That gene just isn’t sophisticated enough to tell who 
flowers are for. 

It's true. If you don't believe it, just deliver a vase 
of flowers to a woman in an office somewhere who works 
with other women around her. You don't even have to 
know the woman. In fact, it's better, for the sake of 
the experiment, if you DON'T know the woman. Just 
deliver her flowers with a card that says "An anonymous 
admirer" and act like a normal delivery guy. Then watch 
the OTHER women in the office. They'll light up, and 
smile and make all kinds of vaguely sexual sounds and 
the smell of wet pussy will waft on the air.

If you watched those women as closely as Robert watched 
his niece, you'd see their pupils dilate as that gene 
tells the pleasure center of the brain to release a 
squirt of dopamine into the bloodstream. 

And that's for flowers they know aren't even for them!

Of course, by the time they get home to their men... 
not bringing flowers home to put on the table... that 
dopamine will have diluted to pretty near nothing as 
other emotions replace the initial wish for a nice hard 
cock in that wet pussy. The replacement emotions, 
unfortunately, generally result in statements like: 
"Janice got flowers at work today. Nobody ever sends ME 
flowers at work! You haven't slept on the couch for a 
while. Maybe it's worn out. Maybe we need a new one. 
Why don't YOU sleep on the couch for a few nights just 
so we know for sure."

Of course it's possible that that is another function 
of the 'flower gene' and that if the urge to mate is 
not satisfied within a reasonable time after the 
flowers are introduced into a woman's life... whether 
they're for her or not, the gene then brings about 
these other reactions.

At any rate, Robert, his observation skills honed by 
being a foreigner in hostile places for years, DID 
notice Debbie's pupils dilate. And he saw in those 
young eyes a wish that the flowers were for her. 

His plan changed, adapting to new circumstances.

"I have here wine for your beautiful mother." he said. 
He winked and said "Perhaps she will lower her guard 
tonight if she drinks too much?"

Then he extended the bouquet of flowers.

"And these are for my beautiful niece, to begin to make 
up for ruining her playhouse and bringing so much 
turmoil to her life."

Debbie's 'flower gene' told her brain to go ahead and 
give another squirt of dopamine. She took the roses and 
smelled them.

"I don't think you need the wine to get Mom's guard 
down." she said, smiling.

He smiled back. "Ah, then perhaps I can convince her to 
give you a little."

His flirting reference to what he had said the wine was 
for created an instant flock of butterflies in Debbie's 
stomach. Her recent arrival at full womanhood still had 
her hormones at high levels, and attention from a man, 
even one she had so recently disliked, kicked those 
hormones into little storms in her body. She felt her 
nipples crinkle and blushed.

Debbie backed up and ushered her uncle into the house, 
and, because he was family, on into the kitchen, 
instead of the living room. It was a little thing in 
her mind, but it registered with him in a big way. He 
wanted his niece and nephew to like him. In one sense 
he NEEDED his niece and nephew to like him if his plan 
was going to work out like he wanted it to.

"Look Mommy!" Debbie squealed as she went to her 
mother. "Uncle Bob..." she faltered and turned to 
Robert. "Is it OK if I call you Uncle Bob?"

He smiled again and nodded. "I prefer it."

Debbie turned back to her mother. "Uncle Bob brought me 
flowers!"

Ramona had turned when her daughter first spoke, and 
saw the roses in her hands. Ramona had the gene too, of 
course, and she knew immediately who had brought them. 
She too assumed they were for her, but her reaction to 
her daughter's statement wasn't one of disappointment. 
She was thrilled for Debbie, and was quite able to use 
her own shot of dopamine to channel her pleasure to 
happiness at her little girl's pleasure.

"How sweet" she said, feeling a rush of emotion for her 
daughter. "And roses too! You better watch out for him 
Deb."'

Her mother's unknowing reference to her uncle's teasing 
remark wasn't lost on Debbie and she blushed again. 
She'd never really thought about what it might be like 
for a man other than her brother to pay attention to 
her. It was true that boys at school liked to look at 
her, but they were just a distraction to Debbie, and 
not material for serious consideration. They couldn't 
stack up to Robby, and they for sure couldn't stack up 
to her uncle.

Debbie decided to do some teasing of her own. "He 
brought wine too. He says it's to make you let your 
guard down." She smiled sweetly at her uncle.

"Curses!" quipped Robert, twirling imaginary long 
moustaches. "My plan is foiled again!"

Debbie teased her mother next. "I told him he didn't 
need the wine." she said. "Then he said maybe you'd let 
me have some."

Ramona laughed. "You REALLY need to watch him then. I 
had hoped I'd be woman enough to satisfy him." she 
wiped her hands on a towel and went to Robert, clasping 
him in her arms and kissing him soundly. "Perhaps I'll 
have to try harder." she said when the kiss was over.

Robert ground his seemingly ever-hard penis into 
Ramona's mound. "I could not help myself." he said, as 
if it were nothing of consequence. "She looks very much 
like you did when you were her age."

Ramona laughed again. "You're a silver tongued liar. I 
was a skinny plain girl when I was Debbie's age, and 
nothing any boy looked at."

"You looked like she looks to me." said Robert, kissing 
her gently. "And you were as desirable to me as she is 
to any man who sees her now." 

That flower gene I mentioned earlier? There's another 
one too. It's a gene that takes compliments and 
transforms them into more dopamine. Debbie was 
beginning to like her uncle very much.

Robby sauntered into the kitchen. "Smells good in 
here." he said.

"Uncle Bob got me roses!" announced Debbie proudly, 
thrusting them out in front of her. Not having been 
thrown to the ground and ravished while her brain was 
still fogged with dopamine, the other response in 
Debbie poked up it's head.

"Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before." she said to 
her brother, her eyebrow raised slightly.

Robby, having neither the 'flower gene' nor Robert's 
skill in observing other human reactions to various 
stimuli, made the same simple mistake that most men 
would make.

"That's nice." he said. "When do we eat? I'm starved." 
Not knowing that his bed had just magically turned into 
a couch, he sat down at the table, his eyes going 
hungrily to the bowls of food already set out.


Debbie, thoroughly disgusted with her brother's tepid 
response to her obvious suggestion that he should have 
given her flowers beginning long ago, and frequently 
since then, and not having received the apology that 
would have kept his bed a bed, decided to punctuate her 
displeasure with her brother. She went to her uncle, 
put her arms around his neck, said "Thank you Uncle 
Bob." and kissed him soundly on the lips.

Robert hadn't been kidding when he told his sister 
that, in his mind, she had been just as beautiful as a 
teen as her daughter was. He DID think Debbie was a 
delectable slice of womanhood. And, he had no real 
designs on his niece sexually, barring the occasional 
fleeting fantasy most men have when they see a good 
looking woman. But he also had no internal prohibition 
against incest, and he did, in fact, want his niece to 
like him so his plan could go forward.

So Robert kissed his niece like he meant it. Which, of 
course, he did. He returned her hug with strength, and 
Debbie felt, for the first time in her life, a hard 
penis other than her brother's, pressing into her mons. 
He didn't use his tongue - that would have been much 
too personal at this early stage of his relationship 
with his niece - but he didn't need to. Debbie felt 
faint as she received a real kiss, from a real man, 
that made real things happen inside her body.

Debbie also had no designs sexually on her uncle. She 
had appreciated the flirting and innuendo on a basic 
female level. The kiss demanded more, also on a basic 
level - male - and it took her breath away.

Robert, being the more experienced of the two, released 
her, his hands on her waist, and said "You are most 
welcome."

Debbie stumbled backwards, reaching for a chair and sat 
down. She was already re-thinking her plan NOT to visit 
her brother's bedroom that night.

Ramona had seen what happened and knew what Robert's 
kisses were like. She felt no panic or jealousy, like 
she had at the thought of grasping hussies trying to 
steal Robert from her, for his money. Her daughter was 
no threat. Her daughter was part of her. Her daughter 
deserved to experience that kind of kiss. She stifled a 
giggle at her daughter's reaction to the kiss.

"You shouldn't do that to a poor innocent girl." she 
chided Robert. She reached for the roses in Debbie's 
suddenly limp grasp. "Here, let me put those in water 
before you drop them on the floor."

Robby, who had watched his lover kiss another man, felt 
less hungry quite suddenly. He somehow knew he was 
involved in that kiss, but couldn't quite put his 
finger on how, or why. He glared at his uncle.

Robert sat down, seeing the glare coming from his 
nephew. He used camaraderie to repair hurt feelings. "I 
see why you like to kiss her." he said, winking. "Her 
lips are soft and sweet, yes?"

Robby, less comfortable with talking about what he and 
his sister had been doing, and completely unaware that 
his mother knew all of it, felt his face get hot. 
"Well... you shouldn't... I mean we... Oh let's eat!" 
he said, giving up on trying to deal with the subject.

Robert laughed. "I tell you what. From now on I will 
not kiss your sister unless you say it is OK to do so." 
He looked at Robby for agreement, and when he saw 
Robby's astonishment he twisted the verbal knife. "And 
you shall not kiss MY sister like that unless I say it 
is OK to do so." He folded his arms across his chest 
like he had made some royal decree, and leaned back in 
his chair.

Robby was aghast. "I've never kissed my mother like 
THAT!" he yelped.

Robert picked up his napkin and began to arrange it on 
his lap. "Well you should some time. Her lips are 
tender and sweet also." He grinned.

"BOBBY!" scolded Ramona, putting a platter of meat on 
the table. "You have no shame!"

"This is true." said Robert, nodding his head. "When it 
comes to kissing beautiful women I have no shame. I 
have just joy that I get to do so."

Robert relented and stopped teasing as they all sat 
down to share food. Instead, he listened with glee at 
Debbie's retelling of the scene at the bank when he had 
come in and invited Ramona to dinner.

In a fateful way, the telling of that story, and the 
laughter it produced, set the stage for Robert much 
better than anything else he could have done. When it 
was clear the story was over, and the chuckles had died 
down, he put down his fork.

"I am thinking of something." he said, as if he had 
just thought of it that very moment, when in fact he 
had thought of little else ever since he had heard that 
Ramona's husband had died so tragically.

Three sets of eyes fastened on him.

"Here I am, having dinner with Ramona Franklin and her 
lovely children." he said. "And people in town are 
assuming I find her desirable." So far he hadn't said 
anything that caused any stir.

"I do find her desirable." he said. Ramona blushed, 
even though she knew her children were quite aware of 
just how desirable he found her.

"And on a first date, I should get to know some things 
about her, yes?" he asked.

Three sets of eyes blinked in confusion.

"Tell me, Mrs. Franklin, if you would," he paused for 
effect. "What was your maiden name when you married Mr. 
Franklin?"

"Ramona Shanks." replied Ramona automatically. 

"How interesting." mused Robert. "I had heard a vague 
rumor that you had a different name at one time."

Ramona stared at him. "I changed my name, Robert. You 
know that! What are you getting at?"

"And how many people here in this delightful little 
town, would remember you as Elizabeth Nettleton?" asked 
Robert, his eyes boring into his sister's.

Ramona blinked again. "I don't think anybody would." 
she said. "They'd all be so old now. Most of them have 
passed on already, I'm sure. What in the world are you 
talking about?" she asked, exasperated.

Robert waved a hand negligently. "I was just thinking 
that if Robert Nettleton found the widowed Ramona 
Franklin, and wished to date her, no one would think 
that strange in the least."

He waited until there were somewhat dazed nods of 
affirmation from the other three people at the table. 
Ramona's looked a little doubting, but there was 
suddenly hope in her eyes.

Then he dropped the bombshell. 

"And, if, as I recall, a wedding license requires only 
a maiden name and some form of identification. It seems 
to me that the names of Ramona Shanks, also known as 
Ramona Franklin, paired with that of Robert Nettleton 
on such a document, would not appear strange to anyone 
either." 

He gave another negligent wave of his hand. "That is 
all I was thinking." 

He picked up his fork and took a bite as if he had 
merely suggested that having a picnic in the park might 
be a wonderful idea.

There was a moment of hushed silence, so complete that 
Robert's chewing could easily be heard by the other 
three. A clock ticked loudly on the wall over the sink. 
Robby's chair creaked slightly as he shifted his 
weight. Then the fork Ramona had been holding over her 
plate fell from her fingers, to bounce off her plate 
and clatter against her glass.

"You can't be serious!" she said, her voice hushed.

Robert looked at her calmly. "I have never been more 
serious in my life."

Debbie's lip quivered. "You'd be my Daddy?"

Robert shook his head. "People would call me your step-
father, but I could never replace your real father. I 
am content that you think of me as uncle. In fact, even 
if you were to call me 'Uncle Bob', I don't think 
people would find that too troubling, yes? You are 
almost adults yourselves, and to call a step-father 
'uncle' instead of father would suggest your respect 
for the man who helped create you."

"But you'd live with us?" asked Debbie.

"I had hoped you would give some thought to living with 
ME... in our family home." he said.

"In the Manor?!" Debbie said. She leaned forward. "We 
could live in the Manor?!"

"I would be most happy if the Nettleton mansion was 
again filled with happy... Nettletons." said Robert. 
"But perhaps we move too quickly. Your mother has said 
nothing."

Debbie's face turned to that of her mother. "Mommy?" 
she asked, her voice high.

Ramona looked gray. She was looking fixedly at her 
brother. "You don't fight fair." she said, her voice 
low. "You would bribe my children to force me to live 
in that place."

Robert held up his hands, palms outward. "No, dear one. 
This is only a dream I have had... that our home could 
be brought back, and the sadness chased out. That we 
could be together as we were, free to love each other. 
But I would never force you to do anything. If you 
choose to marry me I would be happy beyond my ability 
to proclaim. But if taking you home cost me your love, 
or cost you your happiness, I would not ask you to do 
that. I love you Elizabeth." He used her real name 
intentionally, to remind her of what they had felt for 
each other when she still used that name. "And if I 
must love you from afar, in the dark of night, then so 
be it. I would never force you."

Ramona looked torn and sad. "But we could never marry. 
That's craziness."

Robby ventured to say something. "Mom?"

She looked at him.

"What he said... about your maiden name. It makes sense 
to me. I don't think anyone would think it was odd."

"I suppose you want to go live there too." said Ramona 
tightly.

"No! That's not what I meant at all Mom. I don't care 
where we live. But I've seen you... when you look at 
him. You don't look at anybody else like that. I didn't 
even like him at first, but he makes you happy, doesn't 
he?"

Ramona's weak spot had been probed. Robert did, indeed, 
make her the happiest she'd ever been, both in the past 
and now. "That's not fair." she said petulantly. "You 
KNOW I love him."

"Well gee, Mom," said Robby with sarcasm in his voice. 
"What do people in love do? They get married Mom."

Ramona still didn't want to make a decision. Something 
deep inside her lit up at the thought of openly calling 
herself Robert's wife. But she was still afraid. She 
veered off from making that decision.

"I suppose, since you love YOUR sister, you want to 
marry her too?" she asked, throwing Robby's sarcasm 
back at him.

"No." he said immediately. "I would, if I could, but 
people know who we are. Mom, they DON'T KNOW who you 
really are. Nobody knows. Debbie and I didn't even 
know. You could do this Mom. It would work." He waited 
several heartbeats and then added "If you wanted it 
to."

Ramona had felt the pressure building ever since she 
heard Robert speak of marriage licenses. It had grown 
as Robert pulled at her heart strings. Debbie's 
attitude, though mercenary to some degree in Ramona's 
mind, suggested strongly that her hatred of Robert was 
a thing of the past. And now Robby approved of this mad 
scheme.

"Of COURSE I would want it to work." she groaned. 
"Nothing would make me happier than to be... really BE 
Bobby's wife."

"Will you then at least think about it?" asked Robert.

"You know good and well I'll think of nothing else 
you... you... you MAN!" she barked.

"That is all I could hope for." smiled Robert. "And 
we," his hand swung in a small circle that included 
Debbie, Robby and himself, "We will refrain from 
speaking of this again until you have had time to 
consider this." He pushed his plate away. "In fact, I 
shall leave now, so that my presence does not sway 
you."

Ramona stood too. "But Bobby..." she held out a hand. 
"What about tonight?" Ramona had planned on wearing the 
dress for him again that night, before he left."

As if he could read her mind he said "My sweet, the 
dress will wait for another night. I am quite serious 
about this idea, and you need to be serious about your 
decision when you make it. I tell you now, I will abide 
by it, and my love will not lessen, whatever you 
decide. I care most for your happiness. If there are 
conditions under which you would accept, then think on 
those, so that I may abide by them too."

He stepped away from the table. "If I were to stay, I 
would hold you and kiss you and make love to you, and 
that would not be fair. No, you must think on this."

He stepped over to Ramona and took her hand. Very 
slowly and tenderly he brought her hand to his lips and 
kissed the back of her fingers.

"Mrs. Franklin, I was honored to be invited to your 
home for dinner. I had a wonderful time, and would like 
to see you again. May I call on you at the bank?"

Ramona sat down hard and her shoulders shook with a 
mixture of laughter and tears as her emotions boiled 
over.

"Go on!" she barked, wiping her face with her hands. "I 
can't think with you in the house!"

Robert bowed to his niece and nephew and wagged a 
finger at them. "Remember... not a word to your 
mother."

He had made it to the front door on his own when he 
heard Ramona's shriek.

"YES! YES YOU MAY CALL ON ME AT THE BANK!"

He was smiling as he closed the front door behind him.

Inside it was not as happy a place, at least not for 
Ramona. She sobbed, mostly just to release her 
emotions, but because as much as she wanted her 
brother's crazy idea to work, she just couldn't believe 
it would. Somebody would remember, or find out, and 
then everything would be ruined. One moment she decided 
firmly it was too great a chance to take. Then she slid 
down the slippery slope of thinking how wonderful it 
would be if it DID work. She felt arms around her - two 
sets of arms - and heads placed against each side of 
her own. They said nothing. They were just there.

She looked up with tearstained eyes at her children, 
first at Robby and then at her daughter.

"You have to tell me what to do." she sobbed. "I don't 
know what to do."

Debbie had made tremendous strides toward becoming an 
adult in the past month or so, but she wasn't quite 
there yet. She pantomimed turning a key to her lips and 
then threw it over her shoulder.

Ramona raged at them, then jumped up and stalked all 
around the kitchen, circling the table. She picked up 
one of her pieces of good china and drew her arm back 
to throw it, so great was her rage and frustration. A 
hand gripped her wrist, clamping it in a way that felt 
completely unbreakable, and the plate was pulled from 
her fingers. She turned to see Robby, his face grave, 
and she realized he was seeing her throwing a tantrum.

She wilted, and flowed against her son, who handed the 
plate to Debbie and hugged his mother tightly. He 
kissed her hair and said soft words that everything 
would be all right. Her rage abated as quickly as it 
had come and she looked over at Debbie, who had tears 
running down her cheeks too, though she cried silently. 
There was pain on her face and Ramona couldn't take 
that. She reached out an arm and drew Debbie into the 
huddle.

They stayed that way for a long time, just holding each 
other.


Chapter Fourteen 		
================

In the end, it was Debbie who spoke first. "We love you 
Mommy. We will always love you. It doesn't matter what 
you decide to do... we'll love you."

"I know" Ramona sighed. "Will you two do the dishes?" 
she asked.

They both nodded and, after a warning to be careful 
with her good china, she went to soak in a hot bath. 
She always thought better in a hot bath.

Back in the kitchen Robby and Debbie worked on the 
dishes silently. Seeing their mother in such obvious 
distress had sobered them. They'd never seen her like 
that, and it impressed on them like nothing else could 
how serious this was to their mother.

When the last dish had been carefully dried and put 
away in the china cabinet, Debbie went to her brother 
for a hug. The hug turned into a kiss and Debbie felt 
his arousal pushing at her.

She touched his face, and then pushed him away. "If Mom 
can't do that tonight, then we shouldn't either." she 
said, drawing on that special secret set of rules that 
only women have access to.

Robby groaned, but didn't argue. He too had taken long 
strides toward manhood, and knew that sometimes you 
just did what the woman wanted, whether you understood 
it or not. 

Instead of chasing their newfound joy, they sat 
together on the couch and watched TV for a while, just 
being together. Had you asked them what they were 
watching they wouldn't have been able to tell you. Like 
their mother, they were thinking about what life might 
be like in the Nettleton mansion. Oddly they weren't 
thinking about the glitter and expensive wood and 
trimmings. They were both thinking of being able to 
love each other in those rooms, where their love had 
taken root, and grown and blossomed.

When they heard the bathroom door open, and saw their 
mother in her robe, heading toward her bedroom, they 
stood and went to their own rooms too, hoping to find 
sleep. Debbie dropped Robby off at his door, kissing 
him a long, sensual kiss.

Inside his room, Robby still tasted that kiss. Like any 
man, when the woman he loves kisses him like that, it 
gets him going. It was a warm night and he lay down 
naked on his bed, his erection standing tall. He 
reached for a tissue and began to stroke his lust away.

Ramona had been able, in the bath, to let her mind 
wander. She let it go where it wanted to, beginning 
with memories that were tattered, like a battle flag 
shot to pieces and torn by the wind. Those were the 
oldest memories she had, of her mother, and her 
bedroom, and her dolls. There was no pain in those 
memories. Then there was the memory of Bobby, pulling 
her through the darkness of the secret passageway, 
telling her to be quiet. She shook the screams out of 
her head and pushed her mind to her mother's face, eyes 
open and staring. She hadn't understood what was 
happening then, and only later in life did she learn 
what that meant. Instead of letting her manufactured 
memories mar her mother's face, she tried to remember 
the eyes, eyes that looked like they were focused on 
some far distant place... a better place... where there 
were no screams ever. 

A sudden memory assailed her, unremembered these long 
years. She had been at the woman's house, and had cried 
that she wanted her dolly. The woman had held her, 
saying that the dolly was gone, but that she'd get her 
a new one. That doll was probably still in her room 
next door. The doll wasn't gone. It had lain there, 
alone all this time, waiting for Lizzy to come back and 
hold her again.

She had caught herself half crouching in the bath, 
unconsciously having started to get up and go get her 
dolly. The air was cool and she sank back down in the 
tub. Somehow, knowing that her doll was there was 
comforting. It would be there tomorrow, and she'd go 
get it then.

Her mind stayed in the house, in the room where she now 
believed her doll lay. All she had of that room were 
good memories. It occurred to her that it wasn't the 
house that had killed her parents. Men had done that. 
Greed had done that. The house couldn't stop it from 
happening. The house had, in fact, protected Bobby and 
her as they hid in its dark secret places. Then she 
thought about what the house looked like now, the last 
time she'd seen it. It wasn't dark and painful there... 
not really. There was pain associated with it, and that 
pain would never really go away, but the house wasn't 
responsible for that.

And now, against all odds, Bobby offered her something 
that, if somehow it worked, would fulfill all her 
dreams and let her spend the rest of her life sharing 
that love.

Except that she couldn't believe it would work.

Her own doubts were strong, but her mind flitted back 
to what her son had said. He had said it WOULD work. 
Her children, who had been so violently opposed to the 
man next door, had altered their opinions to the point 
that they were in FAVOR of this crazy idea.

She sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in her fluffy 
robe. She wanted to hear somebody tell her it would 
work again. She stood and went towards her son's room.

=======================================================
========

Robby lay on his bed in the warm evening. He was naked 
and his hand was wrapped firmly around his straining 
prick. He had given it only a few leisurely strokes 
when he heard a soft tapping at his door. His face 
broke into a grin as he thought Debbie had relented, 
and was going to allow him that special closeness after 
all.

"Yeah." he said toward the door. It opened and a female 
figure slipped in quietly. 

But it wasn't his sister. It was his mother.

Ramona knew instantly what her son was doing when she 
slid through the door. His pale body was stark against 
the dark blue bedspread he was lying on. She saw the 
head of his penis protruding from his closed fist as 
his hand moved upward and his foreskin slid over the 
large knob at the tip. Her mind instantly returned to 
what she'd seen the day before, as that same long penis 
had plumbed her daughter's depths.

As happens so often in life, little things... powerful 
little things... have the capacity to alter the way we 
look at things.

I'll give you an example. When newlyweds come back from 
a honeymoon, we look at them a little differently than 
we did before they got married. We look at them as 
fully realized sexual beings. We know they have lain 
together while he rutted in her pussy and delivered up 
his seed to his chosen mate. We know that she welcomed 
that. Before this we knew them as Ralph and Cindy, and 
might have known a little about them beyond that. And 
there might even have been a little fantasy about what 
Ralph or Cindy was like behind closed doors. 

But now we KNOW they are sexual beings, and that may 
change the way we interact with them, even if it's only 
in a few unimportant ways.

Ramona knew her son was a sexual being. She had 
actually seen the evidence of it. Robby knew his mother 
was a sexual being. He had actually seen the evidence 
of that.

And, in this case, there was another little powerful 
thing that altered what would have been their normal 
behavior. And it was the same for both. For Ramona, 
that little powerful thing was her unsatisfied lust, 
which her brother had left her with. For Robby it was 
the lust his sister had refused to sate.

Robby, who would normally have rolled over and doubled 
up to hide what he was doing from his mother, just said 
"Mom!"

Ramona, who would have backed out the door, or at least 
turned her back on him, just said "Oh!"

Robby, startled and not thinking too clearly, said "I 
thought you were..."

"Debbie" his mother finished for him.

Part of the reason Robby was so unsettled was the gap 
in his mother's robe, which showed an awful lot of 
white skin, clear down to the point where it was 
obvious she was probably naked under it. Now Robby did 
think about rolling over to hide his erection from his 
mother. But that seemed childish to him, so instead, he 
rolled off the bed and stood, to reach for the gym 
shorts that were on his desk chair. He bent over and 
stepped into them, pulling them up. While that hid his 
penis from his mother's eyes, it did nothing to make 
his erection less obvious, since the shorts tented out 
almost obscenely.

Ramona thought now about turning to leave too, 
embarrassed about the feelings in her loins that were 
produced by her memory of her son's penis sliding into 
her daughter's mound, and seeing that penis again. But 
that would have left everything unsettled and she 
needed something to settle herself down.

"I'm sorry." she said softly. "I just wanted to talk." 
She felt the strangest urge to ask him to take the 
shorts back off.

"Oh." he said, sitting back down on the edge of the 
bed. His eyes strayed to her open robe again, and he 
made his eyes go elsewhere. "What about?" he asked, 
realizing immediately how stupid that sounded.

Ramona, though, heard invitation in his question, and 
never thought about how obvious it was about which she 
wanted to speak.

"Did you really mean what you said? About it working? 
About what Robert... suggested" she asked.

Robby forgot that he wasn't supposed to argue in favor 
of the proposal. His mind latched onto something that 
was firm in his mind, and allowed him to think of 
something other than his mother's naked body under her 
robe.

"Sure" he said easily. "Nobody knows who you are. 
Debbie and I didn't even know. And the whole town knows 
by now that a Nettleton has come back to the manor, 
right? Has anybody said anything to you about that?"

"No" she admitted, liking the feeling that he might be 
right. Her nervous hands toyed with the loose ends of 
the knot holding her robe closed.

"And don't you think that, if anybody had any suspicion 
about who you are, that they'd have said something to 
somebody? I mean even if they didn't say anything 
directly to you, wouldn't there at least be rumors? And 
wouldn't you hear those rumors at the bank?"

That idea caused real hope to bloom in Ramona's heart. 
He was right. There WOULD be rumors if anybody 
suspected. And it was a small town, where rumors flowed 
freely and quickly.

"I know it seems weird, but I think you should do it." 
said her son.

Ramona wanted to pace. Everything she had heard made 
her heart leap for joy. She wanted to believe. Still it 
was hard.

"So you wouldn't mind going to live... there." Ramona 
unconsciously turned to face the direction of the 
Nettleton mansion.

"Mom, I don't think Debbie and I care where we live as 
long as we can all be happy." His mind flitted to the 
image of his mother, her legs spread as his uncle 
powered his prick deep into her, and her exhortations 
of joy. He spoke without meaning to. "And it was 
obvious that being with him makes you happy."

His comment brought again to Ramona's brain the sight 
of him on top of his sister, making her... happy. That 
fanned the fires of her unsatisfied loins. She felt the 
sudden need to leave the room. What she was thinking 
wasn't right. Not about her own son.

"Thank you." she said breathlessly. "I have to go now." 
She moved toward him, though, instead of turning and 
leaving.

Robby stood up. What happened then was a result of 
completely normal urges on a very complicated level. It 
was completely normal for son to expect his mother to 
hug him, and it was completely normal for her to feel 
the urge to do that on a motherly level. It was 
completely normal for her to kiss him on the cheek and 
wish him a good night. All those things were normal on 
an unconscious level. But their embrace was also 
between two people who were very aware of the sexual 
nature of each other, on a level that had nothing to do 
with mother and son.

That caused Robby to move his head fractionally as she 
kissed him, which resulted in that kiss being on his 
lips, instead of his cheek. And, her nervous picking at 
the loose knot of her robe had caused it to fall apart 
as she stepped toward him, and, when she pressed her 
breasts to his chest, there was no cloth between them.

The kiss, and the feel of her hot, soft breasts 
pressing against his naked chest, shocked them both and 
unleashed something that, until then, had been on a 
tether of sorts. What resulted was not the simple kiss 
good night that each had expected. What resulted was a 
tight clasp as soft lips demanded something much more 
intimate. Robby's penis, never having gotten soft, 
pressed the fabric of his shorts between his mother's 
legs, where it contacted her swollen and sensitive 
labia and prodded her clitoris, sending an electric 
shock through her body.

You hear of moments suspended in time, or of time 
moving in slow motion as minds whirl at light speed, 
watching something unfold. That was what happened to 
both of them as, on one level they felt the emotions 
that demanded their lusts be satisfied. On another 
level, though, both knew that what their bodies wanted 
was something that could ruin everything. And both, 
having found something precious in recent weeks, were 
strongly averse to having everything ruined.

Their lips slid off each others so they were cheek to 
cheek.

"We can't." said Ramona, her voice a croak.

"I know." said Robby, his voice tight.

"I want to." confessed his mother.

"Me too." confessed her son.

They managed to push each other away, but he drank in 
her nakedness through the gap of the robe, and her eyes 
went to the bulge that had so electrified her just 
seconds ago.

"I have to leave." she said, panic in her voice.

"It's OK Mom" he managed. "I love you."

"We'll talk about this later." she gasped.

"OK." he said simply.

Ramona almost ran from the room then, fleeing to the 
safety of her bedroom, where she threw off her robe and 
bounced onto her bed, legs spread, fingers dipping into 
slipperiness that brought her to orgasm almost 
instantly.

In his room, Robby didn't even get his shorts off 
before he grasped his penis and jerked it furiously, 
spurting semen in long arcing ropes that landed on his 
floor.

=======================================================
=====

The next morning Ramona woke early. She didn't want to 
face her son and, since she had left work early the day 
before, she went in early to get her work caught up. 
That had the side benefit that she didn't have to face 
her son either. She was very uncomfortable that the 
penis she visualized in her mind, when she had her 
orgasm the night before, had flitted back and forth 
between Robert's and her son's.

She had an hour of uninterrupted work before Renee came 
in and demanded to know what had happened the night 
before. Ramona tried to play it off as a normal first 
date, and that there was just light conversation 
between her, her children and Robert Nettleton.

"Did he kiss you good night?" Renee asked avidly.

"No." said Ramona truthfully. She didn't count a kiss 
on the hand as a good night kiss.

"Did he try?" asked Renee, unwilling to give up her 
fantasy that her friend would bag this rich bachelor. 
"Please tell me he tried at least."

"He kissed my hand, like he did yours." said Ramona.

"I thought I told you to be bad!" complained Renee. 
"Did you wear the dress?"

Ramona ducked her head. "I meant to, honestly I did. 
But the kids wanted to stay and meet him, and I 
couldn't wear it with them there."

"Remind me to talk to those kids of yours." said Renee 
trying to sound gruff. "At least tell me he asked you 
out again."

Ramona tried to smile uncertainly. "He did ask if he 
could call on me again."

"Oooooo that's so continental and romantic." gushed 
Renee. "And THIS time those kids are coming to my 
house, or you're going out with him or something. Maybe 
you could suggest that you eat at HIS house. There have 
just GOT to be at least ten or fifteen beds in that 
place!"

Ramona didn't have to try to blush. It was easy. Renee 
was so blatant about her innuendo.

"Renee!" she scolded. "You're trying to get me to act 
like a slut."

"Oh posh!" said Renee. "All I'm doing is trying to get 
you to let him see the woman in you. You're a sexy, 
desirable woman, Ramona, and there's nothing wrong with 
that.

Ramona shooed her friend away from her desk and went 
back to work. She noticed that several other employees 
seemed to be watching her from time to time, but no one 
else gave her the third degree. Frank Peterson did stop 
by her desk, but all he said was "I trust everything 
went well last night?" When she nodded he grinned like 
a Cheshire cat and left.

Everything was fine until a delivery boy came in around 
ten in the morning with a dozen red roses. This time 
they were for Ramona. Renee got to her desk at the same 
time as he did and plucked the card out of the little 
plastic holder it was in before Ramona could get it 
herself.

"Thank you for a wonderful night." she read. She raised 
an eyebrow at her friend. "A wonderful night?" she 
asked. "As in ALL night maybe? Are you holding out on 
me Ramona?" 

Ramona stood up and snatched the card from her friend's 
hand. "I told you. All I got was a kiss on the hand. I 
didn't even get a hug. Get your mind out of the gutter 
Renee."

Renee grinned. "Well, if he gave you a dozen roses for 
letting him kiss your hand, I can't WAIT to see what 
you get when you finally cave and let him make you 
REALLY happy." She skipped off to her desk before 
Ramona could make an angry retort.

==========================================

Robert's proposal weighed heavily on Ramona's mind all 
morning. Finally she took the phone book and leafed 
through it until she found the number for the clerk of 
the Howard County Court. She waited until lunch, when 
the bank was closed and almost everyone was either at 
lunch or out of earshot, and dialed the number.

It she got transferred to three different people before 
a woman came on the line who said she took care of 
adoption records. Ramona posed as a family member of 
someone who had been adopted and wanted to know who her 
parents were.

"I know this isn't what you're going to want to hear," 
said the woman on the phone. "But those records are 
sealed, and only with a court order can they be 
opened."

"What would it take to get a court order?" asked 
Ramona, her heart in her throat.

"There are very few things that the judge will accept." 
said the woman. "In my experience, about the only thing 
that will usually work is if there is some medical 
reason. By that I mean that the adopted child has some 
kind of medical need to know who the parents were so 
that doctors will be able to understand how to treat 
something. Even that's pretty rare these days, because 
medical science has progressed so far." she said 
apologetically.

"No, there's nothing medical. She just wants to know 
who her parents were." said Ramona.

"I'm afraid that's not going to cut any mustard with 
the system." said the woman.

"So there's really no way to do this." said Ramona, 
hope surging in her.

"Well, there are a few special circumstances. When was 
the adoption?" asked the woman. 

Ramona's hope faded just as quickly as it had arisen. 
"It was back in the thirties." she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry." said the woman, her voice taking on a 
note of sorrow. "I didn't realize it was that far back. 
I can tell you right now that there's nothing we can 
do. There was a fire in the basement of the courthouse 
back in the early 1950s, and the adoption records from 
before that were destroyed."

"There's nothing left?" asked Ramona, shocked.

"Nothing from before 1951 or so." said the woman. "I'm 
really sorry."

Ramona hung up the phone and stared at nothing. Even if 
someone suspected something, there was nothing to prove 
who she really was, or at least who she had been. 
Excitement ripped through her and she sat back in her 
chair, out of breath. She'd been holding her breath 
unconsciously and now panted.

For the rest of the day she was like a school girl, who 
imagines taking on the name of a boy, and practices 
writing it out that way, as if she were already 
married. Now she couldn’t wait for Robert to contact 
her.

But he didn't.

When she went home that night she thought about 
stopping at the mansion, to see him, to scream that she 
would, indeed marry him.

But she didn't. 

Instead she went into the house, bursting with the joy 
of her decision, and wanting to share it with her 
children.

But they weren't home.

There were two notes on the fridge, one from Debbie 
that said she had gone over to Crystal's house, and 
would be eating dinner there, returning home not later 
than nine that night. The other was from Robby, saying 
he'd gone to the pool, would eat out with his friends 
and come home "sometime tonight."

She was so full of energy she couldn't sit still, and 
trying to do things around the house didn't satisfy her 
either. She had made a habit of jogging in college, and 
had kept it up off and on when she got married, but 
hadn't run for years, ever since giving birth. She tied 
her hair back into a pony tail and went looking for 
something to jog in. In the end she had to go to 
Robby's room, where she found his gym shorts hanging 
off his desk chair. She pulled them on, acutely aware 
that his stiff penis had been covered by them when she 
last felt them against her own pussy, and shivered at 
the thought. On a wild impulse she took them off, 
removed her panties, and pulled them back on so the 
cloth would be right next to her pussy. Then she put on 
a tank top over her bra and left at almost a sprint.

She lasted two blocks before she had to stop, bent over 
and gasping for air. She hadn't known she was that 
badly out of shape. After resting she started again, at 
a much slower pace, and alternated between jogging 
slowly and walking to catch her breath. It was just 
what she needed to work off her excess energy.

Ramona stayed out for over an hour, waving at people 
she knew as she jogged or walked along the streets of 
Nettleton. She reveled in the thought that, to these 
people, she was just the widow Franklin, a mother of 
two nice children, a teller at the bank.

She jogged up to her own sidewalk just as a car stopped 
at the end of the driveway and Robby got out. He was 
still in his swimsuit, with a T shirt on, and his towel 
around his neck. She jogged up to him, giddy with her 
news.

"Mom!" he said, his eyes surprised to see her dressed 
like she was... doing what she was doing.

"Don't look so surprised. Your old mother used to jog 
all the time when she was younger." said Ramona, 
smiling.

"I'm not surprised." he said, obviously lying. "You 
look good." he said without thinking. His face got a 
little darker. "Of course... um... we already know 
that." he floundered.

Ramona noted his obvious reference to the night before, 
when she had looked so good that he was painfully 
erect, but her joy at making her decision overrode 
that.

"Yes we do." she said. "How good do you think I'd look 
in a wedding gown?" she asked.

Robby's face went through a flitter of different 
emotions before settling on a wide grin.

"Really? You said yes?" He leaned toward his mother.

"Well, not yet." she admitted. "But I'm going to. Is 
that really OK?" she asked anxiously.

Robby grabbed her in a tight hug. "Of course it's OK." 
he said into her hair.

The closeness of their embrace suddenly made itself 
known to them and the broke apart.

Somehow it was easier for Ramona to talk about what had 
happened between them out here in the yard.

"About last night." she said.

"I know" he said putting up both hands. "I was excited 
and I was out of line."

"Oh!" said Ramona, off balance because he had done what 
she intended to do... apologize. "I was excited too. It 
was really my fault."

Robby had long ago reconciled in his own mind that what 
he and his sister did was something special to them 
both, and had rationalized it in his mind somehow. But 
feeling the same kinds of feelings for his mother had 
been unexpected and didn't seem believable to him 
somehow. He had been worried about it all day long.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Sure, honey." was his mother's immediate response.

"I know how I feel about Deb. I mean I know how that 
happened. But I don't understand why I could feel like 
that about you too... last night." he confessed.

Ramona found herself asking the same question, to which 
she had no ready answer. But just the fact that it was 
out in the open, and that he was willing to talk about 
it, made her want to try to answer that question for 
both of them.

"Come inside. Did you eat? I'm starved after running. 
We can talk about it while I get something to eat."

He agreed and they went into the house, where Ramona 
started making herself a grilled cheese sandwich.

In the end it was an amazingly frank and open 
discussion, like two co-workers, both of whom are 
married to someone else, but who are attracted to each 
other in ways that society would not approve of. They 
approached it by admitting what they had felt, and how 
inappropriate those feelings were, but agreeing that 
the feelings were real.

"So what do we do now?" asked Robby in the end.

"I don't think we should just let our emotions run 
rampant." said Ramona. "I think that might cause 
problems." she said, understating how serious those 
problems could be.

"Mom, I have to say that I don't think I can just 
forget what you felt like... last night." said Robby 
seriously.

"Me either." she admitted. "But we can avoid letting 
that happen again." said his mother.

"Yes. Definitely." he said.

"And when you get... excited... you should talk about 
that with Debbie." said his mother.

"Talk about it?" he asked, his eyebrows rising."

"You know what I mean." she said, blushing. "Don't make 
me say it out loud to my own son."

He grinned. "I love you, mother." he said. "I want to 
hug you again right now.

Ramona smiled. "I'd like nothing better myself, but the 
way I feel right now, it would be a big mistake."

Robby's prick lurched in his swimsuit at his mother's 
admission that she wanted him the way he wanted her.

"Where IS Debbie?" he asked suddenly.

Ramona laughed. "She'll be home later. I wanted to tell 
her about my decision before I said anything to Bobby, 
but I don't know if I can wait to go see him."

Robby laughed. "If I have to be horny... it's only fair 
that you have to be horny too."

Just then the back door slammed open and Debbie came 
bouncing through it, bubbly and happy from her day with 
her friends.

"Hey you guys!" she said merrily. "What's going on?"

"I need to talk to you." said Robby, grabbing her hand 
and pulling her toward the bedrooms.

"Why's mom laughing so loud?" asked Debbie, stumbling 
to keep up with her brother.

Debbie found out what he wanted to "talk" about quite 
soon.

"We can't do this now!" she hissed. "Mom's right 
downstairs."

"Mom knows what we're about to do." said Robby, sliding 
his swimsuit off and pulling his shirt over his head. 
His penis strained outward, at full erection.

"What?" Debbie blinked. She wasn't ready as her brother 
grabbed her and kissed her deeply.

"Get naked." he ordered tersely. "I'll tell you about 
it in a minute."

Debbie, resistant at first, began to thaw as he got her 
clothes off of her and went to work on her nipples with 
his mouth, and her pussy with his fingers. Then he 
switched to her pussy with his mouth until she writhed 
and moaned under him.

It wasn't until he was balls deep in her that he began 
to tell her what had happened. He had already decided 
that there was no way he'd be able to hide how he felt 
about his mother from his sister, and that the time to 
tell her was while he was proving how he felt about 
HER.

Robby stayed buried in his sister as he began to tell 
her what had happened the night before.

"You weren't supposed to talk to her about it." panted 
Debbie, wriggling her clit against the base of Robby's 
prick.

"I know, and then this other thing happened." He told 
her about the hug, and the open robe, and the kiss, and 
how he had felt.

"I can't believe you." gasped Debbie, on the brink of 
an orgasm. "It's bad enough you do this to your 
sister... Uhhhhhhhhhhnnnnggggg" she was interrupted by 
the orgasm. When it faded enough that she could talk 
she went on. "And now you tell me you wanted to do this 
to our MOTHER?!"

"I couldn't help it." he gasped, beginning to move in 
her as his balls tightened. "It just happened and I 
couldn't control my thoughts."

"Was she pissed off at you?" asked Debbie, thrusting 
her pussy up onto his rigid prick.

"No, she felt the same waaaaayyyyyyyyy" Robby groaned 
as his prick fired spurts of spunk into Debbie's pussy 
as he ground into her hard.

Robby lay down on his sister, gently crushing her and 
kissing her neck as he caught his breath. "I felt like 
I was cheating on you." he said softly. "I felt bad."

Debbie loved the weight of her brother on her, and the 
warm feeling of his spend in her. She wasn't sure she 
liked the idea that her lover was horny for her mother, 
but she didn't quite know WHAT to think about that.

"So, while you're making a baby in me, you think of 
her?" she asked.

He pushed up. "No! That's not it at all. Just now all I 
was thinking of was you, and how good you feel. What do 
you mean making a baby?" he asked distractedly.

"Well we haven't used any birth control since we 
started doing this." she said. "What do you THINK is 
going to happen?"

He groaned. "I don't know. I thought about it the first 
time. But when you were'nt mad at me I guess I just 
don't think about that any more."

"I think you don't think about a lot of things." said 
Debbie, pushing him off of her. She rolled sideways 
with him. "I love you, but you're a real goof 
sometimes." she said. Then she grinned. "So does that 
mean I get to be horny over some other guy? How about 
Uncle Bob? He's kind of cute. I got all fluttery in my 
stomach last night when he flirted with me. What if I 
wanted to make love with him? How would you feel then 
mister 'I didn't think about it'?

Debbie might not have been aware of it at her tender 
age, but there are men who find it erotic to think 
about sharing their woman with another man. Robby 
probably wasn't aware of that particular kink either, 
to be honest, but the reaction he had was that of one 
of those men. He felt his recently deflated prick begin 
to stir.

"Would you really do that?" he asked, his voice husky.

Debbie missed the lurking passion in his voice, intent 
on continuing to tease him. "Maybe" she said, drawing 
it out. "How does THAT make you feel?" she taunted.

Robby rolled back on top of her, kissing her hotly. "It 
makes me want to do this." he hissed into her hair, 
hunching his stiffening prick up against her pussy 
lips.

They ended up in another passionate clinch, as Robby 
humped into her roughly this time, shaking her with the 
force of his thrusts. Debbie flung her legs wide, her 
own passions ignited in some hazy way. She didn't think 
about her uncle or her mother. She just reveled in 
having her lover's surging penis inside her as she had 
another orgasm and felt him add even more of his 
dangerous spunk to what had already soaked her 
vulnerable womb.

This time, he rolled off of her gasping, limp from 
expending so much energy. Then, as they lay there, hand 
in hand, he told her the rest of it. He told her about 
meeting their mother outside the house, and how they'd 
talked about their feelings for each other, and how 
they'd decided they couldn't satisfy those feelings. 
Last of all he told her that their mother had decided 
to marry their uncle.

Debbie's reaction to that was surprising. She jumped 
up, put her clothing on hurriedly, all the time saying 
things like "Why didn't you TELL me?!" 

To which is answer was "I did. Just now!" 

Which brought her heated "Why didn't you tell me 
SOONER?!" 

To which his answer was "I was BUSY!"

Despite the fact that it sounded like she was mad at 
him, Debbie leaned over and kissed him on the lips, a 
hurried, but full-of-love kiss, and then she dashed out 
of the door, calling for her mother.

Ramona, however, knowing what her children were doing 
in one of the bedrooms, and knowing what her decision 
about Robert was, couldn't wait any longer to go see 
her brother. Still dressed in her jogging clothes, she 
ran back outside, hopped in her car, and drove the 
short block to the mansion. It was late now, and all 
the workmen were gone. She felt funny knocking, but 
didn't want to just burst in. While she was standing 
there, her hand poised to knock, the door opened and 
there was Robert, standing there.

"YES!" shouted Ramona.

"Yes what, my darling?" he teased.

"You 	KNOW yes what!" she growled and flung herself 
at him. He staggered as she hit him and then tripped on 
the oriental rug inside the door, falling and pulling 
her with him to the almost inch thick Persian rug. 
Ramona scrambled up on top of him, sitting on his 
stomach and grabbing his wrists, which she leaned on to 
pin beside his head.

"I love you so much." she said softly.

Then she kissed him and began blabbering about her 
fears and the call she'd made to the court house. She 
talked earnestly as Robert lay listening and then 
tugged his hands loose, sliding them up inside her tank 
top to cup her bra-encased breasts. Then she told him 
about what Robby had said to her as he rolled her 
sideways and began slowly stripping her clothes off. 
She talked as if he were not making her naked, under 
the influence of relief so strong that it caused her to 
natter on, telling him about what she'd thought about 
in the bathtub. She didn't stop to take more than a 
snatched breath until she found herself naked on the 
rug, her brother leaning over her and sucking one of 
her spiked nipples. The ache and the pleasure that shot 
from that nipple throughout her body finally shut her 
up.

"Oh Bobby" she sighed.

He left her long enough to strip his own clothing off 
efficiently.

She suddenly realized her nakedness, and where they 
were. "Here?" she panted. 

"Oh yes my sweet." he grunted, pulling his socks off.

She wailed as he came to her and thrust into her with 
no other preliminaries. She was sopping wet, she found 
to her surprise. She continued to cry out as he made 
her crazy with his stiff manhood, probing her deeply 
and triggering an orgasm that she wasn't ready for.

Then he lay on her, moving his whole body up an down 
hers, grinding her body into the baby soft fibers of 
the rug under her and extending her cum as his pubic 
bone smashed her clit.

"I am so happy." he grunted. "To finally have what I 
have wanted more than any other thing." he gasped. 
"Will you have my babies sweet Rami?"

"Oh YES!" she shrieked. "As many as you want." she 
cried, as she felt his seed flush into her. They rested 
momentarily as she breathed into his ear, more softly, 
"As many as you want" again.

But it was not comfortable on the floor, soft as the 
expensive carpet was. He rolled off of her and she sat 
up, a little dazed.

"The carpet!" she gasped. "It will be stained!" She 
clapped her hand over her weeping pussy mouth, to hold 
in his copious discharge, and tried to roll off the 
carpet onto the polished hard wood floor nearby.

"Carpets can be cleaned." said Robert pragmatically. "I 
am too happy to worry about something so small and 
insignificant."

Ramona laughed. "Bobby, that carpet probably cost 
thirty thousand dollars!" she said.

"Compared to you it is worth only thirty cents." he 
sighed, still lying on the object under discussion.

Still holding his semen inside her, Ramona reached down 
and pulled him up. Then she snatched her clothes up in 
her free hand.

"I ate a sandwich and I'm starving again already!" she 
said. "Let's get something to eat."

They padded naked through the house to the kitchen, 
which was now finished and looked completely different 
than it had in the old days. Now it was a brightly lit 
and modern place, with state-of-the-art appliances and 
gleaming surfaces everywhere. It was one of the few 
areas of the house that Robert had not taken back to 
it's original configuration and condition. He pulled 
cold pizza and sodas from the refrigerator and then 
popped the pizza into the toaster oven that was on the 
counter.

"Bobby, I need to talk to you about something." said 
Ramona. She was thinking about Robby. "I don't want to 
have any secrets from you."

"I love you, and I care not for secrets." he said, 
"with one exception." Both knew what secret he would 
protect to his very death.

Worriedly Ramona told him of her feelings for Robby, 
and what she had contemplated doing with him, even if 
only for an instant or two. She tried to describe 
Robby's attraction to her as well.

"Is there something wrong with us?" she whined. "Is 
this the curse of our family?"

Robert listened patiently while she unburdened herself, 
sipping his Coke now and then. When she finished he sat 
a little longer, as if thinking.

"Let me tell you what I think." he said. "I knew, long 
ago, that brothers and sisters are not supposed to feel 
about each other as we felt about each other... as we 
now feel. Since then I have seen many places, and many 
cultures, a few of which allowed this taboo love 
between relatives. I saw nothing then that made me want 
to stop loving you. What I think is that, if we love 
each other, nothing we want to do is a bad thing. And 
if Debbie and Robby love each other - really love each 
other, as you and I do - then I don't think they will 
want to do anything that they think can threaten that 
love."

"But to want my son?" moaned Ramona. "Doesn't that make 
you crazy?"

"I look at your son and see a strong young man who many 
women will want. I look at your daughter and see a 
beautiful young woman who many men would want to carry 
their babies. Is this not a natural response to seeing 
a member of the opposite sex who has the appearance of 
a suitable mate? Is it so strange that you could be 
drawn to his ability to father children, or that I 
could be drawn to wish I could make Debbie with child?"

"I thought you were teasing her." said Ramona, 
realizing that he had made a confession of his own.

"I WAS teasing her, but you should know that, at the 
center of all teasing, there is a kernel of desire. 
Sometimes it is a desire to hurt. Sometimes it is a 
desire to teach. Sometimes it is a desire to be able to 
be closer than circumstances allow." 

Robert got up and pulled the pizza out of the toaster 
oven. He put it on the table, along with two plates and 
forks.

"This could be a very strange and interesting 
marriage." said Ramona, looking thoughtfully at her 
brother.

"I am going to concentrate on making this a glorious 
marriage." he said. "Strange is all right once in a 
while, and interesting is Ok even more often. But I 
want to do nothing that will put a wedge between us."

"I don't want to hurt you." she said insistently.

"I can think of nothing you could do that would hurt me 
except to stop loving me." he said seriously. "Perhaps 
you will explore this feeling you have with your son... 
perhaps not. In either case I cannot imagine not loving 
you."

Ramona relaxed. The one thing she was afraid would 
unseat her happiness was something she could now put in 
the back of her mind. She had no idea what would 
happen, but suddenly she looked forward to everything 
she thought was gone forever. She could love the man 
she wanted... could live with him and bear him 
children.

"It's too bad that Robby and Debbie can't have what we 
have." she mused.

"Perhaps that too can be arranged, in a way." suggested 
Robert. "They can live with us as long as they wish. 
What goes on in this house need not be common 
knowledge."

"They may not want to." said their mother.

"That, too, is fine." said their uncle. "They may draw 
apart, as we did, and find other love. You were happy 
with Richard, yes?"

"Yes." she admitted. "I loved Richard very much."

"They too may find that kind of love. They may wish to 
go to college. They may wish to travel. Those are 
discussions that must be had, but there is plenty of 
time."

Then there was discussion about the immediate future. 
Ramona was instructing him that his seduction of her 
must appear normal to people they knew. She couldn't 
just agree to marry him after only one or two dates. 
That would be too odd. They were making plans on how to 
advance the courtship when the front door opened and 
Debbie's tentative voice came down the hall.

"Mom? Uncle Bob?" she called.

"In here." yelled Ramona, checking to make sure she 
looked normal. She saw there was a stain in the crotch 
of Robby's gym shorts and scooted further under the 
table.

That didn't work, though, because Debbie was too 
excited and wanted to hug her mother. Then she wanted 
to hug her uncle. She was flushed, part of it the 
residual effect of having had multiple orgasms, but 
primarily from running through the woods to get there. 
Ramona had to stand up to get her hug and then didn't 
think to sit back down as she grinned to see Debbie 
flinging herself against her uncle and kissing him on 
the cheek.

It was when Debbie turned around again that Ramona saw 
that Robby's gym shorts were not the only shorts in the 
house that were stained with a man's semen. Debbie had 
put her shorts on immediately after having been filled 
a second time with her brother's spunk, and it had 
drained into and stained the shorts she was wearing in 
the same kind of pattern as Ramona's were stained.

Ramona's hysteria at being happy burst into a laugh.

"What?" asked Debbie, looking around.

"We need to go change our pants." said her mother with 
a straight face. "Both of us."

Debbie looked down at her own light blue shorts, with 
the dark stain in the crotch, and then at shorts she 
recognized as Robby's, but which were being worn by her 
mother, and which were also stained like hers. She 
blushed beet red.

"Oh Gosh!" Debbie moaned, covering her eyes with her 
hands.

Robert stood, grinning. "Go on. I'll see you tomorrow, 
when I ask you for another date."

Ramona pulled her moaning daughter back to the front 
door and to the car. She laughed again as she thought 
that it was a good thing she had naugahyde seat covers.


Chapter Fifteen
===============

Following their plan, Robert visited Ramona at the bank 
again two days later, and asked her out to dinner 
again, this time as his treat. They laughed when Robert 
described how he had tried to make a reservation at 
"Mom's Diner" which, he had been assured by the men 
working on his house, was the best place in town to 
eat. Frances Dilley, otherwise known as "Mom", and 
owner of Mom's Diner, had laughed out loud. "You're not 
from around here, are you?" he mimicked Frances saying. 

The morning after their dinner date, Ramona held her 
co-workers spellbound by her description of what had 
happened.

"We got there and there were no cars in the parking 
lot. I was afraid there had been a mistake and the 
place was closed!" Ramona told them. "Them the door 
opened and Mrs. Dilley came out and took us in. He 
rented the whole diner for the night!" Ramona didn't 
have to pretend to be flattered. Robert hadn't told her 
he was going to do that. Robert had admitted that he 
asked "Mom" how much she made on the average Friday 
night and then offered her five times that amount to 
serve just the two of them. "There were four men in 
there with violins and guitars and I don't know what 
all, and Mrs. Dilley served us herself. It was just 
amazing!"

"How romantic" sighed Agnes Green.

"Did he kiss you?" asked Renee.

"Renee! I'm shocked you'd even ask that." said Ramona, 
trying not to giggle. "I will tell you this, though. I 
like him. We have fun together. He tells the most 
amazing stories." 

Three days later the mood at the bank was almost the 
opposite. Renee brought in a newspaper that had a 
picture of Robert with another woman. The headline was 
"Local millionaire samples night life" and there was a 
story about how Robert had come back from what the 
paper called his world travels, and was renovating his 
ancestral home in Nettleton, which was, in fact, named 
for his family. The woman with him was identified as 
Lucinda Johnson, daughter of Magnus Johnson, who owned 
and operated the Johnson Furniture Emporium. The couple 
were attending a benefit fund raiser for a local 
orphanage, but she wore a slinky dress, and was covered 
with jewels and looked very much the part of a rich 
man's escort.

"That dirty dog is running around behind your back 
Ramona." snarled Renee, throwing the paper down on 
Ramona's desk.

Ramona was well aware that Robert was going to "take 
out" other women as part of his role playing, but 
seeing the smiling buxom woman on his arm still caused 
her gut to clench. It showed and Renee became a 
commiserator instantly.

"Don't you worry about it baby." she said to Ramona. 
"There are other fish in the sea. If he comes in here 
again I'll throw him out myself!"

Ramona smiled. "Renee, he's a grown man and he can date 
whoever he wants. I like him, but I don't own him. And 
don't you dare throw him out either. I may not be 
exotic and beautiful like her," she slapped the paper, 
"but I'm the better pick and I think he's smart enough 
to see that."

Renee agreed vociferously. "You're right. You're better 
than that blond bimbo any day, and if he's not smart 
enough to see that then you don't need him!"

That night Ramona reported the conversation to Robert, 
who identified the woman in the picture as the daughter 
of a man who had approached him to do business with. 
Robert, having problems finding "women to forward our 
plan" had agreed to escort the man's daughter to the 
benefit. Robert laughed about how the man tried to use 
his own daughter to seal a deal that Robert had no 
intention of entering into. 

When Robert came into the bank the next day, he waved 
nonchalantly to Ramona, and went to a teller cage to do 
some business of some sort. Then he went and stuck his 
head into Frank's office, glad-handing like a 
politician. It was then that he went to Renee's desk 
and tried unsuccessfully to make small talk with her. 
Renee was frosty, and kept her eyes on her work most of 
the time.

Finally Robert sauntered over to Ramona's desk. 

"And how is my favorite financial Wizard doing today?" 
he asked, loudly enough for several people, including 
Renee, to hear. Renee rolled her eyes in an exaggerated 
manner at Ramona.

"Why I'm fine, Robert... may I call you Robert?" she 
said sweetly.

"I would be devastated if you did not." he said 
smiling. "And when will you grace me with your company 
again, if I may be so bold?" he asked formally.

The newspaper Renee had given her was lying on her 
desk, where she had left it intentionally. "Why Robert, 
it appears that you have plenty of company. When would 
you ever be able to fit me in?" She let her fingers 
drift over the paper.

Robert laughed. "Ramona, let there be no mistake. I 
would rather spend one evening with you than ten with 
women like that." he said. "You are interesting, and 
beautiful and you laugh at my horrible jokes. I have 
tomorrow night open... and the night after that... and 
the next night too. Please, have pity on me." he 
pleaded.

"You're a charmer, I'll give you that." sighed Ramona. 
She had the urge to giggle so much that she had to bite 
the inside of her cheek to stop it. "All right. I 
haven't been roller skating in years. Do you roller 
skate Robert?"

Robert looked stricken. "I will learn!" he said. 
"Surely such a thing cannot be so difficult. I 
understand that hundreds of people do it."

The date was made and Robert left, shaking hands with 
everyone he could reach.

Renee was at her desk before the outside door closed. 
"Are you really going to take him skating?" she asked.

"Sure" said Ramona. "Why not? He's just a man. Why 
don't you and Ted come along too?"

"I might just do that." said Renee. "I'll suggest that 
if he isn't a little nicer to me I might feel inclined 
to get to know Mr. Robert Nettleton a little better. It 
doesn't hurt a bit that he's cute too." She giggled as 
Ramona chided her for being mercenary.

In fact, by the time Robert escorted Ramona into the 
"Skate Inn", there was a sudden resurgence of interest 
in roller skating by a surprising number of adults, 
most of whom worked at the bank, or were married to 
someone who worked at the bank.

It was a riot. Robert had never had skates on in his 
life, while Ramona had gone skating with Richard quite 
often, and was really quite good. She unfailingly 
picked Robert up off the floor each time he crashed 
down, and steadied him as he rolled along uncertainly. 
Her co-workers helped pull him up too. By the end of 
the evening he was able to stay up most of the time as 
she pulled him, hand in hand, around in circles. 
Everybody went out for drinks at Duffy's Tavern when it 
was all done. Robert didn't act at all stuffy. He also 
made sure he told some very horrible jokes.

From there it was just a matter of making sure that 
people knew Robert took Ramona out more than he took 
any other woman out. Then their plan moved to the phase 
where he took only Ramona out.

No one was surprised, when, three months later, Robert 
Nettleton proposed marriage to Ramona Franklin.

Ramona's wanted Renee to be her maid of honor, with 
Debbie as the only other bridesmaid. That decision was 
relatively easy. In thinking about Robby, however, 
Ramona's feelings were much more conflicted. That was 
the result of reflection on the feelings she had 
recently discovered for her son, and her discussion 
about that with Robert. Her un-motherly attraction to 
him, in a way, made her feel like she was closer to him 
than any man other than Robert himself. In that sense, 
she felt like that, when she married Robert, she would 
distance herself from something very special by 
"leaving" Robby. In a philosophical moment she decided 
that it was appropriate, in a very private way, for 
Robby to give her away.

With that in mind, she talked with her children about 
those roles and said she wanted to spend an evening 
with each of them, alone, to just talk about things and 
settle in everyone's mind what their expectations were 
for life in the near and not-so-near future. What they 
were doing was a big decision, and their lives would 
change considerably because of it. Ramona didn't want 
to lose anything she had with her family as they gained 
other things.

Her night with Debbie was scheduled first. Robby spent 
the night with Mike, who wanted an update on what was 
happening with the Nettleton mansion and the crazy 
hermit they had all seen together, and that left the 
house to his mother and sister.

Ramona and Debbie talked about a lot of things, but two 
of them were probably more important than the others.

"I need to know how you feel about the money." Ramona 
said, as she ate spoonfuls of ice cream out of her 
quart of Rocky Road, while Debbie did her best to 
destroy a quart of Butter Brickle.

"Well, we've never really had a lot of money." said 
Debbie. "I don't know what it will be like."

"Do you think you'll just be able to buy whatever you 
want?" asked her mother.

"That would be nice." said Debbie. "But I've seen some 
of the rich kids at school, and they seem... empty 
somehow. At least sometimes. It's hard to explain."

"It's important to me that you stay who you are." said 
Ramona. "I don't want money to become too important to 
you."

"I think if we talk about that, it will be OK." said 
Debbie. "Even though I argue with you a lot, I think 
you're pretty smart for an adult." said Debbie smiling. 
"You usually give me pretty good advice."

"OK, we'll agree to talk things out then." said Ramona. 
"Now, what about Robby?" she asked. "I have some advice 
for you about that."

Debbie shifted uncomfortably in the overstuffed 
armchair she was currently occupying. "I love him 
mother." she said.

"I know that, and I understand that. But what you two 
are doing has real consequences." said Ramona 
patiently. "Things have been so crazy that we haven't 
taken care of protection yet. And I suspect you two 
haven't decided to stop for a while until that gets 
done."

Debbie had the grace to blush, but didn't confirm her 
mother's suspicions.

Ramona bored on. "What, for instance, are you going to 
do if he makes you pregnant?"

Debbie was silent for what seemed like a long time. "I 
have mixed feelings about that." she finally said. 
"Part of me is horrified at the thought of being 
pregnant at all. I mean that would change so many 
things. But part of me thinks that having Robby's baby 
in me would be the neatest thing in the whole world. I 
love him so much it hurts sometimes."

"That's one of the things the money changes." said 
Ramona. "What I mean is that there won't be any 
financial burden on you. In theory you can have all the 
babies you want to. We can hire a live-in nanny to help 
you take care of them. That part is easy. But having 
children changes your life radically because then they 
are the most important thing and you have to sacrifice 
some of the other things you might want to do."

"Like what?" asked Debbie. Talking with her mother 
about this was something she hadn't thought she could 
do, but she found, to her surprise that it was not only 
easy, but immensely relieving too.

"Like meeting another man you like, and already having 
children that he may not feel drawn to because they 
aren't his." said Ramona. "Like not being able to go to 
college because you have a family to take care of." 
Ramona thought some more. "Like being in a relationship 
with a man who you can't kiss in public, or acknowledge 
as the father of your children. Like being thought of 
as a slut because you have children out of wedlock. 
You'd be living a secret life, and that's not easy." 
she finished.

"Good points" admitted Debbie. "But I'll argue with you 
about some of them." She took another bite of ice 
cream. "For one thing, I love Robby so much that I'd 
marry him if I could... like you and Uncle Bob. So I'm 
not sure that I'll be interested in other men." She 
took another bite. "And, if I don't have to work, and 
have help... because of the money... then I think I 
could manage going to college, whether I have children 
or not." She frowned. "I agree that it would be very 
hard to love Robby in secret. I do that now, and it's 
not too hard right now, but you're probably right about 
that not being the most satisfying kind of life. But I 
don't care what people think about whether I'm a slut 
or not. I think there will be enough advantages to our 
lives that they will outweigh that."

Debbie cocked her head. "Hey, I have a question for 
you."

"Go ahead." said Ramona, still processing what she had 
heard.

"What about your money? I mean I know how you feel 
about it, but couldn't it be used to do a lot of good 
things?"

"What kind of good things?" asked Ramona carefully.

"Well, I don't know... things like helping people? I 
mean there are all kinds of problems in the world with 
education and racism and hunger and stuff like that. I 
think it would be kind of cool if we could help with 
some of that kind of thing."

Ramona felt a measure of shock. It was a combination of 
not having thought of that herself, which caused her 
pangs of guilt, but it was also surprise that her 
daughter, on the verge of becoming very wealthy, would 
be so unselfish.

"I think that's a very noble idea." she said. "I think 
that's something we should have a lot more talks 
about."

"Me too." said Debbie.

Then they talked about dresses and wedding arrangements 
and other things that mothers and daughters talk about 
when life is good.

Ramona's night with her son was almost completely 
different. She intended to come to grips with their 
feelings for each other, and put them to bed... so to 
speak. 

Those feelings were put to bed. But not in the way 
Ramona had intended.

She started by explaining why she wanted him to give 
her away. She had no idea whether he would grasp the 
philosophical reasoning for that, and was actually 
surprised when he nodded.

"I get it." he said. "I feel kind of the same way. 
Knowing that you're getting married, and I don't think 
it would matter who you were getting married to either, 
I feel kind of like I'm losing you somehow."

"You'll always be my little boy." she said, chewing. 
Tonight there was no ice cream. Instead, she had baked 
hot rolls, because she knew he loved them, and would 
eat a whole pan of them if allowed to. They sat, 
tearing little pieces of the rolls off and eating them. 
The rolls were so good that the butter and strawberry 
jam she'd put out weren't touched by either one of 
them.

"I know that." he smiled. "But this new feeling... it's 
something I haven't even figured out yet. I mean I know 
I'm not supposed to feel stuff like that for my own 
mother... but I do. And now you're getting married and 
I'm happy for you. I think you should do it. But I 
think I'm a little jealous too. Doesn't that sound 
stupid?"

Ramona shook her head. "No, it's not stupid. Not to 
me." She sat, her feet tucked under her and stared at 
her son. "It makes me tingle when you say you're 
jealous."

Robby looked back. "You know how sometimes you want 
something really bad, and it's all you can think about? 
You save your money and you dream about going to buy 
it, and what it will be like when you have it and all 
that."

Ramona nodded.

Robby nodded with her. "It's like that with you. I'll 
be in bed, and I think about... things. Or in the 
shower. It happens there a lot too. It happened with 
Debbie that way sort of, except that we did things for 
a long time and it just went farther and farther."

Ramona felt tingles in her belly. "But sometimes, 
darling, when you get what you wanted so much, it turns 
out not to be what you thought it would be after all. 
Sometimes you get disappointed, or just lose interest."

Robby blinked. "Yeah, that's true, if you're talking 
about a pair of shoes or something. But that's not what 
we're talking about here." he said. "I mean I know that 
fantasy isn't like reality, but I can't keep the 
fantasies out of my head. And I'll never know the 
reality, so I doubt if I'll ever be able to really let 
go... like you're talking about."

Ramona's own feelings were remarkably similar. She had 
fleeting fantasies. Her memory of his smooth chest 
pressed against her bare breasts fueled those 
fantasies.

"What if you did experience the reality?" she asked 
suddenly. "Do you think then that the fantasies would 
go away and leave you alone?"

"Mom, don't tease me." he said.

"I'm not teasing Robby. I don't want this to make a 
wedge between us. I want you to feel free and at home, 
and welcome in our new family. I want to be able to 
look at you and hug you and not be afraid that I'm 
causing you pain."

Something in Robby tore loose. He didn't snap, exactly, 
but he felt a release inside him that allowed him to do 
something that he never would have contemplated doing 
before this very moment. He stood up and pushed his 
shorts down, exposing the erection he'd gotten just 
talking about fantasies.

"You don't cause me pain." he said. "You cause this."

Ramona felt her pussy squirt. "I don't want to come 
between you and Debbie." she said. "And I don't want 
you to come between Robert and me."

Robby stood there. "I love you both. I'll always love 
you both, even if we never do anything. Even if Debbie 
gets married some day, I'll always love you both."

Ramona stood, putting her hot roll on the table beside 
the chair. "You can't give me away if you've never... 
had me." she said. she was breathing deeply now. Her 
clothing felt suddenly very confining.

Robby responded, not like a son, used to being 
subservient to his mother's control, but as a man, 
establishing his control over a woman. It wasn't a 
harsh control, or one meant to dominate or dehumanize 
her. But he didn't wait for instructions, or 
permission, or assent. He kicked off his shorts and 
pulled his shirt over his head. Then, naked, he went to 
his mother and began undressing her as she stood, her 
eyes closed, trying to decide whether to help him, or 
try and stop him. She kept her eyes closed as he made 
her naked. It wasn't until she felt his lips on one of 
her stiff, standing nipples that her eyes popped open 
and she felt weak.

He took here there, in the living room, on the couch. 
He placed her on the couch, lying down, one foot on the 
floor and the other held up by her ankle, opening her 
obscenely to his hot-eyed gaze. His prick dripped with 
his excitement.

First, though, he tasted her, driving his tongue deep 
between her swollen pussy lips, and sucking her taste, 
along with the nubbin that was her clit. Her feelings 
shocked her with their intensity, and she found her 
fingers squeezing her nipples as he tended to her 
pussy. Suddenly she was impatient and pulled at his 
hair.

No words were needed as he raised his wet face to look 
into his mother's eyes. He moved upward and let his 
iron hard prick bob, just above her gaping sex, pausing 
to savor the sight of his naked and spread mother, 
waiting for him to penetrate her.

Her consent came in the form of her soft hand gripping 
him... aiming him... pulling him to her.

"I saw you and Debbie in bed." she said softly. "You 
were being very tender with her. Be tender with me 
too." she moaned.

Robby slid his adolescent penis into his mother's adult 
pussy in one long, slow push until her hairs and his 
met and mingled. Both of them groaned in a mixture of 
satisfaction and a desire to feel that again, for the 
first time.

For Ramona, what she noticed most was how Robby filled 
her, but in a wholly different way than Robert did. It 
had been long enough that she had a hard time 
remembering how Richard felt in her, but Robby's 
adolescent prick just felt different in some way. His 
arms and back felt different too, as she stroked him, 
urging him to continue with little pulls and grips.

For Robby, it was less controlled mentally. The hot 
clasp of the pussy squeezing his cock was something 
that made his mother's face appear in his mind, whether 
his eyes were closed or not. As he had not thought of 
anyone but Debbie, when he was making love with her, he 
couldn't think of anyone but his mother while his prick 
was buried in her. He also felt the now familiar urge 
to cum, but there was also some kind of brake built in 
that demanded that he hear his mother have an orgasm 
before he spilled his seed. Part of it might have been 
because he was moving slowly in her, almost languidly, 
pausing at full entry to press hard against her pussy 
lips and clit.

Each time he did that... as he pressed hard into her... 
Ramona moaned "Ohhh baby," in a voice that caused his 
balls to tighten a little more each time he heard it. 
It was a pure, sweet sound in his ears that said in a 
completely affirmative way that she welcomed him inside 
her.

They had been silent for so long... not counting her 
mantra of joy... that Ramona didn't want to spoil the 
mood by talking. Instead she pulled at his head and 
kissed him long and deep, and then pushed his head 
toward her aching nipples. He sucked hard, in contrast 
to his gentle fucking motions, and her orgasm surprised 
her, both with its rapid onset and the depth of the 
feeling as it built rapidly, increasing the pressure 
inside her, but not releasing it. His deeply probing 
rod wasn't moving quite fast enough to bring her off 
completely, but she waited, letting the pressure build 
until she almost couldn't stand it any more and writhed 
under him. She finally had to say something more.

"Harder now... please?" she begged.

Robby's hips did something instinctive and, instead of 
going in and out faster, he went in, leaving only an 
inch or two outside of his writhing lover and then 
rabbit stroked her five or six times rapidly, bouncing 
off her clit and jiggling her body with the force of 
his penetrations.

Ramona's wail would have sounded like pain and 
suffering to an observer, but her tone penetrated 
Robby's brain and, as her pussy rippled around him, he 
gave up and let his seed spill violently and copiously 
into his mother's belly. His own groan sounded like 
something one would hear through the walls of a 
dungeon, accompanied by sounds of his laughing 
torturer.

They clasped each other tightly, having shared 
something beautiful that they didn't want to end. 
Ramona was almost overcome by feelings of remorse that 
she had allowed this to happen... not because of who 
they were... but because she knew she could never live 
without this happening to her again sometime. Even 
though she knew Robert would smile and nod if she asked 
permission, she hadn't planned on complicating her life 
this way. Another part of her brain screamed a litany 
of thank yous for the joy she felt from an almost 
perfect union with a man she loved dearly.

Robby's thought process was not as complicated, but 
arrived at the same conclusion.

"I'm not sure..." he panted "that I'm willing to... 
give you away." He sagged down, his weight a welcome 
warmth on his mother's body.

Part of Ramona accepted what had happened and knew 
that, somehow, she'd deal with it. 

"You have to." she panted back. "It's part of the 
ceremony." She hugged him and then giggled. "I had no 
idea, my darling. Debbie is a very lucky girl." she 
sighed.

"Thank you." he said.

"Oh darling, you're so very welcome." she said, 
stroking his back.

There was a moment of awkwardness in Robby's mind as he 
contemplated climbing up off his mother's naked body. 
"What do we do now?" he asked.

Ramona let her fingers play with his hair. "Well, if 
you're not willing to give me away yet, then I suppose 
we'll just have to do this until you get your fill and 
change your mind." She giggled again.

They grabbed fistfuls of hot rolls and moved to 
Ramona's bed. It took them until two in the morning 
before Robby finally gave up. Ramona had been seated on 
him, riding him to his fifth spurting orgasm, when he 
pulled her down for the last time.

"OK" he gasped. "I think I can stand the idea now."

"Good" said his mother, feeling his softening prick 
beginning to slip out of her. "I wanted you to feel 
that way before I told you that Robert will understand 
if, some day, we feel the need to do this again."

Robby looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?" he 
asked.

"I told him how I felt about you. He more or less gave 
me permission to explore those feelings." she said 
softly.

"Wow." said Robby, feeling much better suddenly about 
what they'd done for the last eight hours.

"How would you feel if Debbie felt the need to explore 
feelings she had towards him?" asked Ramona.

Had she asked him that in the beginning, his response 
might have been different. But now, thoroughly sated 
for once in his teenaged, hormone-driven life, the 
thought didn't threaten him.

"I don't think she would want to." he said. "She really 
hated him at first. But, even if she did I don't see 
how I could justify getting mad about it."

"That's a very mature and enlightened attitude." said 
his mother, kissing him on the tip of his nose. "I 
doubt, though, that Debbie's attitude would be that 
enlightened if she found us like this. We should spend 
the rest of the morning in our own beds, don't you 
think?"


"I could sleep 'til noon." said Robby.

============================================

Robby didn't get the chance to sleep 'til noon, though. 
Debbie, having spent the night at a sleepover with 
three of her friends, all of whom talked about boys and 
the things boys liked to do, came home horny. She stuck 
her head in her mother's bedroom and heard snoring, 
whereupon she went to her brother's room to get her 
itch scratched.

Robby, thankful that he was young and healthy, managed 
to scratch that itch quite well before he sent her on 
her way and told her not to wake him up for a week.

============================================

Strangely, after their coupling, Ramona found it much 
easier to control her emotions regarding Robby than it 
had been before. She had so much to do to get ready for 
the wedding that she didn't examine this phenomenon in 
any particular detail. If she had, she would have come 
to the conclusion that, before she let Robby shoot his 
virile sperm in her unprotected pussy, she had been 
afraid that her feelings for him were founded on lust. 
During the act, however, it became clear to her that 
she wanted to share something precious with him... and 
receive that dangerous sperm... because she loved her 
son on a level that was both deep and honest.

Knowing that they loved each other, and that if she 
felt the need to share that with him again she could, 
the urgency to "deal" with the situation was gone. In 
one sense it HAD been dealt with, though Debbie's 
status in their new family hadn't yet been fully 
explored. Ramona thought about that... about the 
possibility that the teasing that Debbie and Bobby 
engaged in might, some day, lead to something more. She 
found it interesting that she wasn't nearly as worried 
about that outcome as she was if Debbie found out about 
her mother and brother and didn't understand what that 
was really about.

Ramona decided to let nature take its own course with 
Debbie and her uncle. If the other issue raised its 
head, she'd just deal with that when it happened.

=========================================

At a family conference, Ramona and her children came to 
the unanimous decision that after the wedding, they 
would move into the Nettleton mansion. All three were 
surprised at how easily that decision was made. All 
three were further surprised when Ramona asked her 
children what other issues needed to be addressed and 
no one could come up with anything. All was moving 
smoothly in the Franklin household.

Debbie took it upon herself to act preemptively 
concerning the accommodations. The morning after that 
meeting, after her mother had gone to work, Debbie went 
to her brother's room. She was amazed now at how 
routine it seemed to crawl into bed with him, wake him 
with kisses, fondle him to full erection... if he 
wasn't already that way... and then slide her pussy 
down gratefully over his throbbing member. He was 
always groggy in the mornings, and she loved to climb 
up on top of him and ride him. It gave her better 
control over when and where her tingling clitty got 
rubbed, and she was able to get him deep enough that 
the tip of his beautiful prick prodded that special 
little place inside her that both hurt and felt 
wonderful at the same time. She could also take her 
time, because, if he wasn't on top of her, he couldn't 
go as fast as he liked to, which inevitably brought 
that rush of welcome wet heat spurting out of his penis 
sooner than she wanted it to. True, he was able, on 
many occasions, to either keep going, or to be able to 
go again quite soon, but she loved to deny herself that 
wonderful hot feeling, letting the pressure inside her 
build until she almost couldn't stand it. Then she'd 
squeeze his healthy young penis in just that special 
way that she'd learned would make it spurt almost on 
command, so that as she had her orgasm, he had his too.

This morning had been particularly sensational as she 
felt her brother's hot sperm painting her pussy. She 
kissed him as he mumbled his love for her, already 
letting his eyes close to go back to sleep. She wanted 
her pussy to be full of his spunk when she went next 
door to look at the house where all this had started.

She dressed in jeans shorts and a halter top, not to 
tease anybody, but because she liked those clothes and 
they were comfortable. She had made the halter top in 
home economics, because she had to come up with a 
sewing project. She'd made it out of one of Robby's old 
dress shirts that didn't quite fit his muscular chest 
any more. She'd cut off the collar and sleeves and 
folded the shoulder material to make straps. Then, to 
impress her teacher, she'd tailored the cloth to fit 
her breasts. It almost looked like a fancy bra, except 
for the tails in front, which she used to tie in a knot 
in the front, between her breasts. It was a pale blue 
color that, when she first made it, concealed her pink 
areolas, though it allowed her nipples to define 
themselves, especially if they were erect under it. Her 
jeans shorts were cut-offs and thin and white where 
they cupped her buttocks.

It didn't occur to her on a conscious level that she 
looked like the very picture of a well-fucked, beaming, 
healthy young woman, with gorgeous cleavage and a firm 
ass. She didn't think about what the men working at the 
manor might think about as she walked through them... 
how her flat stomach fairly screamed to those men that 
it needed life inside it, to make the flatness go away 
as a baby swelled beneath it. She never gave a thought 
to how, as she had to step over obstructions on the 
lawn, where materials were strewn about, that her 
breasts would bob invitingly as all eyes watched her 
walk across the yard to the front door of the mansion. 
Had she heard the groans of the men, or seen them shift 
their stiffening cocks in their pants as she walked by, 
she might have considered dressing less provocatively.

But Debbie's mind was awhirl with the anticipation of 
seeing how the inside of the house had changed... of 
walking its halls again, this time as the mistress of 
the manor. "Well, ONE of the mistresses, anyway" she 
thought as she stepped on top of a pile of long lumber 
and jumped down on the other side, making her tender 
young breasts bounce once and come to a quivering 
equilibrium inside the thin cloth of her halter top.


Two men were working together nearby and Debbie heard 
one of them mumble to the other... something like "Oh 
man, and it's only nine thirty. I gotta go home for 
lunch and see Christy." The other man laughed and 
replied "SEE Christy? I never heard it called SEEING 
before." He laughed again. 


Debbie glanced at them, wondering what they found so 
funny about lunch. Then she ran up the stairs to the 
front door, oblivious of the groans behind her.


She peered around, shocked and delighted to see that 
everything looked so bright and colorful and... alive. 
She reached out to touch the paneling, which glowed 
with a soft light. It was bright and she could see the 
grain and tones in it now. Before it had been gray and 
dull. The wall paper and new drapes were so colorful 
she thought she was in a different place. She wandered 
into the kitchen and gasped at the harvest gold counter 
tops and the gleaming matching stove and refrigerator. 
A center island held all kinds of copper pots hanging 
from a stainless steel rack that made a roof over it.


She almost ran to see what her bedroom looked like. 
That the "little girl's" room would be hers, she had 
already decided. She hoped that it would still look 
like a girl's room. She passed by the master bedroom 
and the "boy's" bedroom to find the door to her room 
closed. She pushed it open and gasped.


The four poster bed had been completely recovered with 
new fabric. It didn't look strange to her, despite the 
fact that the fabrics were archaic in design. The room 
she had spent so much time in... had experienced so 
many new and exciting moments in... looked alive to her 
now. Her eyes were drawn to the rest of the room in 
darting glances as she tried unsuccessfully to take it 
all in. 


Her eyes lit on the cedar chest where she had packed 
away her cherished special dresses each time after she 
had worn them during dress up play. The chest had 
obviously been refinished and gleamed with a coating of 
oil. 


She had her first disappointing feeling as she saw the 
now beautiful piece of furniture. She knew somehow, 
sadly, that the dresses would be gone. Never again 
would she be able to pull on the sweet smelling old 
clothes and parade in front of her brother, pretending 
to be a princess, or the mistress of the manor. She 
felt a single tear roll down her cheek.


A sound behind her made her turn quickly, wiping the 
tear away. It was her uncle, standing in the open 
doorway, leaning negligently against the jamb.


"So what do you think?" he asked. "Is it suitable for a 
beautiful teenage girl?"


Debbie felt conflicting emotions. She knew it was 
silly, but she really missed those dresses.


"Yes, it's beautiful." she said.


"Why then do you cry?" he asked.


Debbie wiped at her cheek again, embarrassed. "It's 
nothing. There were dresses that I kept in that chest. 
I used to wear them sometimes." she said.


"My mother's dresses." he said nodding. "Yes they were 
beautiful. You liked them very much?"


"Oh yes!" said Debbie, unable to control her burst of 
emotion. "I felt pretty when I wore them."


"A simple dress could not make you more beautiful than 
you are now." he said, bowing. "But I am glad that I 
had them cleaned and replaced. I suspected that someone 
had been wearing them."


"What?" said Debbie, startled.


"Look inside." he said gently, waving a hand at the 
chest.


Debbie went to the chest and lifted the lid. The odor 
of cedar spilled into her nostrils and she saw all her 
dresses... her grandmother's dresses, she corrected 
herself. They had been neatly folded back into the 
chest after it was refinished.


Debbie turned, more tears in her eyes now, and stared 
at the man she'd hated, then wanted to hate, and now 
couldn't hate any more.


"Still you cry?" he teased. "I am such a failure." He 
tried to look dejected.


Debbie ran to him and hugged him tightly.


"Oh thank you Uncle Bob. You have no idea what this 
means to me." she cried.


"It was but a little thing." he said stroking her hair. 
"I have upset your life, and would do what I can to let 
you retain as much of it as you can."


Debbie turned, one arm still around her uncle and 
surveyed the room. "It really is beautiful." she said.


Robert looked down into the expanse of teenaged 
cleavage she had exposed by turning. He could see the 
insides of her breasts. They looked white and soft.


"It is indeed beautiful." he said, smiling.


Debbie's eyes settled on the dressing table. It had 
been dust covered and streaked when she last saw it. 
Now it, too, gleamed with a coat of oil over its 
refinished surfaces. The drawer pulls were shining 
brass now, instead of dark green lumps of metal. The 
mirror she had looked at herself in as she played dress 
up was clean and shining, surrounded by an ornate 
gilded frame which before had looked like a dull yellow 
mass of indistinct carving. A doll sat, leaning against 
the bottom corner of the mirror. She had held that 
doll, and examined it, though she had felt too old to 
play with dolls, especially when she and Robby began 
playing dress up. The doll had a porcelain face that 
was so realistic that it was hard to believe. Its 
clothing had been faded and dirty, and one leg had been 
torn at the knee. Now it looked brand new, having been 
repaired by a master restorer of antique dolls.


Robert saw where she was looking. "That was your 
mother's" he said. "When we left she cried many times, 
wanting that doll. If I could have come back to get it 
for her I would have. But we were not allowed to come 
to this place after... afterward. Maybe you should take 
it to her?"


Debbie looked up at her uncle and saw the softness in 
his eyes as he looked at the doll. It made her stomach 
feel fluttery to see that look of love.


"Can I give it to her as a wedding present?" she asked. 
"I can't think of anything to get her."


"I think that would be most perfect." he agreed, 
smiling. "Now, to what do I owe the honor of your visit 
this fine day?"


Debbie was suddenly nervous. She had come here like she 
still owned this place. The changes in it had shocked 
her as she realized that it was different... so 
different that it didn't seem like the same house to 
her. And yet, it was so familiar that she couldn't help 
but feel at home in it. It was like somebody she loved 
had been in the hospital, about to die, but had 
recovered and now looked completely healthy.


"We decided last night to live here after the wedding." 
she said. "I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you or 
not. Mom may want to tell you herself. But I just had 
to come and see... to see if it was the same."


"Alas, it is not the same." admitted her uncle, his arm 
still around her.


"No, but I think that's all right." she said softly. 
"It looks so much better. It's so pretty and bright." 
She slumped a little. "I don't know if the ghosts will 
even come back now."


Her uncle smiled and she saw it out of the corner of 
her eye. She stuck out her jaw. "We used to talk to 
them, you know." she said stubbornly. "They... watched 
us. They liked having us here." she insisted.


"I do not doubt that my ancestors loved having you in 
this place." he said seriously. "So many unhappy things 
happened here. I'm sure they were very satisfied to 
have happy young people here again." His eyes dipped to 
her cleavage again. "I know I'll be happy to have happy 
young people here."


Debbie saw his eyes and blushed. "You're a horrible 
tease, you know that? What would my mother say if she 
saw where you're looking?"


"She would say that I have wonderful taste in ogling 
breasts." he said easily. "Yours are perhaps as 
beautiful as hers."


Debbie blushed harder. Then she kissed him on the 
cheek. "You make me feel good." she said finally.


"Then my day has not been wasted." he said, kissing her 
forehead. He looked at her again, this time into her 
eyes. "I'm really very happy that you have decided to 
do this thing... to let your mother and I be happy... 
to live with us. And it is not only because of your 
beautiful breasts either." he said, winking at the end.


Debbie felt giddy at his obviously heartfelt expression 
of thanks. She stepped away from him though, feeling 
that fluttering in her stomach again. He was really 
very handsome in a strange and different way and she 
felt unaccountably nervous being so close to him.


"What can I do to help?" Debbie asked brightly.


Robert smiled. "Well, I happen to be talking to the 
interior decorator about the bedroom your mother and I 
will use. Perhaps you could lend your expertise on 
things she likes? I love her more than life itself, but 
I've been gone a long time, and don't know her every 
day likes yet."


Debbie squealed with excitement and followed him to the 
master bedroom. It too looked different, with the 
furniture refinished and the wainscot redone. The walls 
above that were bare, though, and the huge four poster 
bed in that room was bare as well, without even a 
mattress on it. A woman was standing in the middle of 
the room making notes on a clipboard.


There ensued a spirited discussion, primarily between 
Debbie and the woman, about how the room should be 
tricked out. Debbie, in her own way, described what the 
perfect room would look like, thinking of her mother 
and the colors she liked and things like that.


When they were done the woman turned to Robert. "Well, 
other than being a cradle robber, I have to say you 
have chosen well for a wife. She has exquisite taste 
Mr. Nettleton."


Debbie gaped, then blushed, and then started to correct 
the woman, but Robert stepped up to her and put his arm 
around her possessively.


"I know an exquisite woman when I meet one." he said 
smiling broadly. "Her beauty will complete this house, 
along with that of her daughter and son. I have, 
indeed, been lucky."


The woman left and Debbie turned to her uncle. "Why did 
you let her think I was going to be your wife?" she 
asked curiously.


"Think about it." said Robert. "She will not go out and 
tell everyone what a sexy young wife I have. People 
will gossip about it, and when I take your mother 
somewhere people will already be thinking how beautiful 
and young she is. It is a harmless little prank, yes?"


"I guess so." said Debbie uncertainly. She didn't think 
of her mother as young. Beautiful, yes, but not young. 
Children never do.


"How did it make you feel that the woman believed you 
and I would be married? That we would do the things 
married couples do?" he asked.


Debbie blushed again. "I... I... we don't do those 
things!" she finally got out.


"This is a true thing you have said." he nodded. "But 
you DO do them with Robby. And when people do these 
things, babies are created. When that happens you will 
be a mother in this house, and almost a wife. Have you 
not thought of this?" he asked, knowing that youth 
rarely plan further than next weekend.


"Well, no" she admitted. He remained silent while she 
couldn't help but think about... being pregnant... in 
this house. "Mom and I talked about it a little bit." 
she said, as if proud of herself. "And if that happens 
then I'll try to be a good mother."


"Then my recommendation to you is to begin thinking of 
yourself as a mother now." Robert said firmly. "If this 
thing happens, then it cannot be undone."


"But..." Debbie started and then stopped. She couldn't 
even think about having an abortion. The thought alone 
made her ill.


"In this house there are no 'buts'" said Robert. "If 
you become pregnant, the child will be of the Nettleton 
line. I would have to resist in the most vociferous 
manner should you try to become not pregnant. This is a 
thing you must understand about me. Your mother and I 
are the only Nettletons left, besides you and your 
brother. Many children are needed to carry on this 
line, and none can be wasted. This would be true 
whether it was Robby's child or that of another."


Debbie stared at him thoughtfully. "I could never have 
an abortion." she said firmly. "I don't know why I even 
thought of that. But it sounds as if you want to make 
me into a baby machine."


"This is not what I meant at all." he said. "If you 
never have a child at all your mother and I will love 
you as always. Having children is your concern. But if 
you decide to do that, I want you to understand that it 
is a serious concern, and that others will have a stake 
in the child's life too."


Debbie suddenly thought about the sperm that was still 
pooled in her womb at this very moment. For the first 
time since she had begun pursuing an... adult... 
relationship, she thought seriously about the 
consequences of what was lying in her belly.


"I will bear, and love and cherish my children." she 
said in a surprisingly adult tone of voice. "I doubt 
that I'd make a very good mother right now, but I'll 
learn whatever it takes."


"You'll make a better mother now than you might have an 
hour ago, I'll wager." said her uncle. "Your body is 
ready to provide new life," he said, looking at her 
breasts again and making her squirm. "However... you 
might want to give some thought to preventing babies 
until you feel you are ready."


"Yes." said Debbie, her spirits suddenly muted. "I'll 
think about that."


"Excellent!" said Robert boisterously. "Now, tell me, 
do you ever eat ice cream? I have a freezer full of 
this delightful treat, and I'll never be able to eat it 
all by myself."


Debbie spent another five hours with her uncle, talking 
and helping him make decisions, while the workmen 
always seemed to need to be around them, asking 
questions, or carrying things past the lovely young 
woman. Robert noted their interest and smiled. There 
would be many happy women this night when these men got 
home and needed to sate their lust.


Chapter Sixteen 
===============

That night, when Ramona got home, she was preoccupied 
with wedding plans and sat at the kitchen table with 
stacks of lists and invitations and other things 
associated with the wedding. When Debbie offered to 
help her she waved her hand, saying that it was fun, 
even though she didn't look like she was having that 
much fun.

Debbie took her brother and pulled him to her bedroom.

"I love you." she told him, standing in front of him 
almost close enough that her breasts touched him.

"I know that." he said in typical male ignorance of 
what a woman wanted when she said that.

"Do you love me?" she asked.

"Of course I do. You know that." he said, digging 
himself even deeper into a hole he had no idea was 
forming around him.

"Do you love me enough to not make love to me for a 
while?" she asked.

"What?" he said, unsure what that meant.

"Do you love me enough to not make love to me for a 
while?" she repeated. It didn't help that her fingers 
were toying with his shirt collar.

"Um..." Robby knew suddenly that there was a right 
answer, but, for the life of him he didn't know what it 
was. He had a suspicion that he should respond in the 
affirmative, but was afraid to say "Sure, no problem" 
because that sounded like he didn't cherish what they 
shared. And he DID cherish what they shared - a lot.

"How long is a while?" he asked.

"I just need to do some thinking. We haven't been using 
anything to stop me from getting pregnant. I've been 
thinking about that. That might be a problem, you 
know?"

When it comes to problems, the difference between men 
and women is that women want to talk about the problem, 
while the men want to just solve it and move on.

"So have mom get you some birth control pills." he 
suggested helpfully.

"You don't want me to have your baby." Debbie said. Her 
voice rose at the end of the sentence, as if it were a 
question. But it didn't sound like a question somehow 
to Robby.

Robby, like his sister, hadn't really thought at any 
length about what could happen as a result of what they 
did. There had been a time or two that he had 
fantasized his sister with a swollen belly, but it was 
hard to put her face on that body. It just wasn't her.

"I don't know." he finally said. "I haven't thought 
much about that."

"That's why we need to take some time and think 
about... things." said Debbie. "I don't want to get all 
pregnant and then find out you don't want to be a 
father." Her voice was rising steadily. "I don't want 
to ruin my life, and give up everything just so YOU can 
do what boys ALWAYS want to DO to girls!" Somehow 
Debbie had gotten mad. The fact that she had six or 
seven hours of think time that Robby wasn't aware of 
didn't cross her mind. SHE had thought about the 
consequences, and somehow expected HIM to have thought 
about them too. She was beginning to think more as an 
adult. He just hadn't caught up with her.

Robby didn't know what was going on, but he knew that 
tone of voice. In the past he had just run and hidden, 
waiting for her to calm down. But he DID realize that 
this was a serious subject, even if he hadn't taken the 
time to think much about it.

His hands came up and gripped her shoulders. She tried 
to pull away but he held her tightly.

"Look, I love you. I don't want you to be mad at me. 
Whatever you want me to do I'll do, but don't just get 
mad. If you don't want to get pregnant, then fine. If 
you DO want to get pregnant then I'll... I don't know 
what I'll do, but it will be the right thing. If you 
want to wait and stop then I'll do that too. Just tell 
me what you want."

Debbie heard the honesty and care in his voice, even if 
he wasn't very eloquent about it. She felt those 
flutters in her stomach again and suddenly wanted to go 
to bed... and not alone.

"That's the problem." she moaned. "I don't KNOW what I 
want to do. I don't know what to ask YOU to do. I just 
need some time to think about this and talk about this 
and decide."

"Then that's what we'll do." said her brother simply. 
"I can live with that."

She kissed him then, hope surging in her heart that 
somehow everything would be all right.

When the kiss broke Robby looked at her. "Can we start 
not doing it tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

She didn't get mad. She laughed instead. 

"I'll do something for you that we used to do a lot. 
And you can do it for me too. But that's as far as we 
can go, OK?"

"I'm your man." Robby said, striking a pose.

They did end up in bed then, naked and panting. But 
their heads were at opposite ends as they loved each 
other with their mouths. They lasted a long time, 
dragging it out. In the end it was Robby who had to 
stop her from sitting down on his hard prick.

She cried. 

But it was tears of happiness.

=========================================

To the delight of the workmen, Debbie began spending a 
lot of time at the Nettleton mansion. She didn't tell 
her mother, because she was arranging things at the 
house and wanted to surprise her. She told Robby what 
she was doing when he got curious about where she went 
all day, and he started going with her. He began to 
work with his uncle on refurbishing the root cellar, 
making it into a more useful place, with a new roof and 
door that could be secured. Robert didn't want any 
workmen in that space, because he didn't want anyone to 
know about the secret entrance to the mansion.

And, as they worked together, as often happens when 
people share a task, they became friends.

The next month passed amazingly quickly, considering 
that neither couple was engaging in sexual intercourse. 
For Robby and Debbie it became a sort of game in a way, 
to see which one would be the first to ask for more 
than oral sex. Debbie taunted her brother, while she 
sucked on his cock, milking his balls for their fruit. 
She told him she'd made her decision, but that she 
wasn't going to act on it until the wedding. When her 
mother started her new life and began using her old 
name, Debbie would begin her new life too, with Robby. 
She wouldn't tell him what her decision had been.

For Ramona and Robert, it was more of an attempt to 
build the suspense until they could be together as 
husband and wife. Ramona went to the house a few times, 
but the temptation to drag Robert into a bedroom and 
fuck his brains out was too much. It was easier just to 
stay away and meet him for dates in public, where it 
was easier to control herself.

Ramona was also doing something else, that no one knew 
about. She contacted an attorney at the home office of 
the bank, which was in another state. As a 
representative of the bank, and as handler of the 
Robert Nettleton account, she asked, on his behalf, 
what his sister would have to do to satisfy the bank, 
so that she could make withdrawals from her account. 
The attorney did the research into the account, which 
had not been touched since 1951, when an order was 
received to pay Elizabeth Nettleton's tuition at a 
college. The lawyer wrote back to Ramona that all that 
would be required legally was an updated signature 
card, which could be supplied either by having Ms. 
Nettleton come to the bank and execute it there, or by 
having her provide a duly notarized card in the mail. 
Once the new signature was received, she could access 
funds again with no problem.

Twelve days before the wedding, Ramona announced that 
she had to go on a short trip. One of her girlfriends 
from college was getting remarried and wanted Ramona to 
be there. She'd only be gone from Friday to Sunday. 
Everything for her own wedding was on track.

Being in the house alone together was nerve wracking 
for the twins. Robby had dreams of forcing his sister 
and was so upset by them that he asked his Uncle Bob if 
he could stay at the manor the rest of the weekend. He 
told his sister exactly why he was doing this, and 
apologized, even though he couldn't control his dreams.

Ramona, who really did visit her old college roommate, 
didn't have to go to a wedding because there wasn't 
one. Michelle was happily married with three children. 
But Michelle was a licensed Notary Public, who knew 
Ramona Shanks was also Elizabeth Nettleton. Things like 
that are almost impossible to hide from one's roommate, 
and secrets are often shared in the dark of night when 
sleep comes slowly. Ramona was nervous about her plan 
only because she had to tell Michelle about the 
incestuous marriage. The only reason Ramona felt she 
could do this was because, in the dark of night, back 
in college, the secrets Michelle shared with Ramona 
involved lurid descriptions of her love affairs with 
her father and two brothers, all of whom hoped she 
would graduate college and come back home. While 
Michelle loved all three men, there was competition 
between them for her that she didn't love, and she 
decided to live a more normal life.

But Michelle would understand why Ramona was doing what 
she was doing. And more importantly, she'd keep her 
mouth shut about it.

Michelle notarized the new signature card, placing 
various stamps and seals on it and mailed it to the 
Carver State Bank in Nettleton herself. She charged 
Ramona one dollar for processing the document. 

Then Michelle, who worked for a tax attorney, began 
filling out the paperwork for the other thing Ramona 
wanted to do. That process would cost ten thousand 
times as much as the notarizing of the signature card, 
and then roughly five or six thousand dollars a year 
after that in administrative and legal fees. But the 
law office would provide all the help needed for 
Ramona's plan for as long as it was needed.

Kissing Michelle on the cheek, Ramona drove back to 
Nettleton to get married.

The wedding was scheduled for the fifteenth of 
September. That was because that was the date that 
Elizabeth and Robert were reunited in foster care after 
being separated at boarding school. By sheer chance, 
that was one day after the twins celebrated their 
sixteenth birthday. Ramona and Robert talked to the 
kids about why they wanted that particular day for 
their wedding. Both kids didn't care about the 
proximity to their birthday and, since this was their 
first birthday since they had... consummated... their 
relationship, they even thought it was kind of 
appropriate.

The birthday celebration was a quiet affair, amidst the 
storm of emotion that surrounded the wedding. That was 
OK too. Ramona was busy with last minute wedding 
arrangements, but took time at lunch to have a small 
party. After that, Robert drove them to the Driver's 
License Office, where they took the test and were 
issued brand new licenses.

Then the kids were left to their own devices for the 
rest of the day. Debbie, just dripping mystery, told 
Robby that she had ordered his birthday present in a 
catalogue, but that it hadn't arrived yet. He tried to 
find out what it was, but she wouldn't budge. Robby, at 
the suggestion of his mother, had gotten Debbie 
flowers. He had gone to the florist shop on Broadway. 
It had been hilarious.

"Yes, can I help you?" asked the middle aged woman 
behind the counter in the sweet smelling store. Her 
name tag said "Madge". 

"Uh... yeah... I need some flowers." said Robby.

"Wonderful! What kind of flowers do you want?" asked 
Madge.

Robby blinked. "Um... I don't know. What kind do you 
have?"

Madge stifled her groan. "How about this? Who are these 
flowers for? What's the occasion?"

"Oh!" said Robby. "It's my sister's birthday."

"I see" said Madge. She'd made up literally thousands 
of bouquets of flowers, but flowers for a teenaged 
boy's sister's birthday was a new one for her. "And how 
much do you want to spend?" she asked.

"Gee," said Robby. "I didn't think about that." He 
pulled out his wallet and peered inside. He pulled out 
three crumpled one dollar bills. "How much are flowers 
anyway?" he asked.

Madge sighed. "You've never done this before, have 
you?"

"Done what?" asked Robby, looking from the three 
dollars to Madge.

"Gotten a woman flowers." said Madge.

Robby ducked his head. He didn't know why, but suddenly 
he felt like he was supposed to have gotten somebody 
flowers a lot of times already, and dropped the ball. 
"Uh... I don't guess I ever did." he admitted.

Madge eyed the bills in his hand. "How about I put a 
nice rose in a bud vase and put a ribbon around it and 
you can give that to your sister.

Robby thought about that. He remembered how happy 
Debbie had been when Uncle Bob had given her a whole 
bunch of flowers, and one didn't seem like very much to 
him.

"How much would a whole bunch cost?" he asked.

"Of roses?" asked Madge.

Robby had a flash of brilliance. "Yeah, like maybe 
sixteen of them." 

Madge eyed the boy. "Now you're talking closer to fifty 
dollars." she said.

"FIFTY DOLLARS!" yelped Robby. "I don't have fifty 
dollars!"

Madge wanted to chuckle. The boy looked so distressed. 
"Well, they're three dollars apiece." she said. "Look, 
I'll give you two roses and the vase for the three 
dollars you have. I need to get back to work. I have a 
ton of things to do. There's a big wedding tomorrow and 
I've never handled anything that big."

Robby was still shocked by the idea that sixteen 
flowers could cost that much. Her comment gave him 
something to say. "Yeah, that's my mom's wedding."

Madge blinked this time. "Your mother is Ramona 
Franklin?" 

Robby nodded, looking at his three crumpled bills.

Madge's attitude changed dramatically. "How would you 
like to earn the flowers?" she asked.

Robby looked up at her. "Earn them? How?" he asked.

"I have to get so many flowers over to that mansion 
that it's going to take four or five trips in the 
station wagon. You help me get them all over there and 
I'll make you up a nice bouquet of flowers for your 
sister. Are these flowers for the wedding too?" she 
asked.

"No" said Robby. "It's her sixteenth birthday today. 
That's why I thought about sixteen flowers."

Madge sighed. What a sweet boy to think of his sister's 
sixteenth birthday like that. She exploded into action 
and directed Robby, who loaded up the station wagon and 
rode with Madge to the Nettleton mansion. Madge had a 
sort of map of where everything went, both in the house 
and outside on and around the gazebo. It took six trips 
in all, but when they were done Robby left the shop 
with a long white box containing sixteen pink roses and 
two dozen long stemmed red roses, artfully bound 
together with ribbons and baby's breath.

"I think she'll like these." said Madge, handing the 
box to Robby. 

"You don't think she'll be upset because there's no 
vase?" asked Robby.

"Trust me" said Madge. "If you weren't her brother 
you'd get a whole lot more than a thank you kiss on the 
cheek."

==============================================


It was a fairy tale wedding. The weather was beautiful, 
with a dark blue sky filled with fluffy clouds. The 
weather had cooled enough that the heat wasn't as 
oppressive as it had been only a few weeks before. 
There was a light breeze, but really all that did was 
make the decorations move around a little. As much 
trouble as Ramona had gone to to plan this wedding, 
there were only fifty or sixty guests present when the 
ceremony began. Everyone from the bank had come, of 
course, and another dozen people Ramona had become 
acquainted with over the years. Sixteen missionaries 
from Robert's old group showed up. They brought with 
them a quilt just like one of the ones Ramona had made 
and given away. Hers had been used as a pattern and 
dozens had been produced with painstaking labor in a 
village thousands of miles away. Making them had become 
the primary income producing venture for a group of 
widows in the village. There were differences, 
primarily the design in the center of the quilt, which 
was a beautiful rendition of an African looking pair of 
masks, stitched in beautiful detail. Robert laughed 
when he saw them, and explained that they were 
fertility symbols.

The wedding itself was simple and quick. The orchestra 
played, and Debbie and Renee strolled up the walk to 
the stairs of the gazebo, where they met Robert and a 
man named Theodore Stapinski, who flew in from Pakistan 
to be Robert's best man. They had served together as 
missionaries and Theodore had once saved Robert's life. 
Ramona emerged from a striped tent that had been set up 
as a dressing room for her. She had opted for a formal 
gown, rather than a wedding dress, and she was 
beautiful in it, escorted by her tall, handsome son.

Afterwards there was a reception in the house. No one 
other than craftsmen had been in the house yet, so 
there was a great deal of excitement. People gawked at 
the double curved staircase that led up from the foyer, 
which was full of flowers and a table with gifts on it. 
A buffet had been set up in the dining room, with 
chairs for about thirty people there. Others took their 
food and spread out into the parlor, and living room, 
and even some in the kitchen. No one in Nettleton had 
been in a house like this, and they all loved hob-
nobbing with what they thought was the richest couple 
in five counties. Little did they know, but Robert and 
Ramona were, in fact, the richest couple in more like 
five states.

Ramona pulled Robert to the table of gifts and opened 
them, while Renee wrote notes in a little book about 
who each gift was from so that Ramona could send thank 
you cards later. Debbie waited until all the other 
gifts were opened and then handed her mother one last 
box from under the table.

"It's from me." she said. "Well, sort of. I had some 
help."

Ramona opened the box, and when she saw the doll she 
froze. Tears welled up in her eyes and she reached into 
the box to stroke the doll's face with one finger.

"I thought she was lost." said Ramona, her voice 
catching.

"I played with her when I was little." said Debbie. "I 
didn't know she was yours then." She whispered the next 
part "Uncle Bob fixed her up and thought you'd like to 
have her back."

Debbie got a hug and left streaks of mascara on her 
cheeks and lipstick to go with it.

"Oh!" said Ramona. "I almost forgot. I got you 
something too. I'll be right back. She walked quickly 
to the roll top desk in the den and pulled out a large 
envelope, which she carried back to the foyer.

"You said you could think of ways to help people. Now 
you'll have your chance." Ramona handed Debbie the 
envelope.

Curiously, Debbie opened the packet and pulled out a 
thick sheaf of papers. The cover sheet had a large 
stylized "F" on it, under which were the words: 
"Charter of the Franklin Group". That was followed by 
what looked like paragraphs of legal language, with 
sentences beginning with "Whereas".

"I don't understand." said Debbie, leafing through the 
documents. It would take a long time to read them all.

"I set up a foundation for you. It's a non profit 
philanthropic organization for the disbursement of 
funds for worthy causes. I put some of my money in an 
account for the foundation to use. You're the 
chairwoman of the group. You'll have to put together a 
board of directors, and hire a staff and rent some 
office space. Then you and your board will have to 
decide which causes deserve to be funded and all that. 
It's going to be a lot of work. I may not have done you 
any favor at all, but I want you to have the chance to 
do good with the money."

"How much money?" asked Debbie, still shuffling papers.

"I started with twenty million." said Ramona, like she 
was talking about marbles, instead of dollars. "The 
group will have to do some fund raising and investment 
to replenish funds you disburse."

Debbie's mouth fell open. She swayed and Robert, who 
had been watching events unfold with barely suppressed 
delight, steadied the girl.

"Twenty million... dollars?" asked Debbie, her voice 
cracking.

"It's about a quarter of my inheritance." said Ramona, 
smiling. Bobby warned you that money could be an 
unsettling thing." She hugged her daughter. "We'll help 
you, of course. That much money will bring out the 
sharks, but I think you'll do well. Are you up to the 
challenge?"

Debbie sagged into her mother's arms. "I have no idea. 
I think I might have peed my pants. I need to sit down 
Mommy." 

Debbie sat, staring at the papers in her hands, as the 
orchestra started playing and people danced. Robert and 
Ramona danced first, and then four or five other 
couples joined in. When the second tune started Robby 
tapped his uncle on the shoulder. 

"Can I dance with my mother?" he asked.

"Most assuredly." grinned the man, and stepped away. It 
was a slow dance and they danced closely. Ramona 
pressed herself against him, her lips by his ear.

"Thank you my darling." she said.

"What for?" he asked.

"For being you... for loving me... for giving me away." 
she said.

"I still wish I hadn't done that." he joked.

Ramona squeezed him. "When we get back from the 
honeymoon I think you and I will find some time to 
spend together." she whispered. She pushed her mons 
against him gently. "I think you'll find that while you 
gave me away, you won't have lost me."

Later, his dick still stiff from dancing with his 
mother, Robby asked Debbie to dance, also during a slow 
number. They maintained a respectable distance as they 
saw people smiling at brother and sister dancing at 
their mother's wedding.

"Your birthday present got here today." said Debbie, 
smiling widely.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I can't tell you that!" she giggled. "Birthday 
presents are a surprise. You wouldn't be surprised if 
you knew what it was when you see it."

"Can I have it now?" he asked.

Debbie shook her head. "It's private, between you and 
me. Well, I guess mom and Uncle Bob could see it, but 
nobody else." she said. "We'll wait until the guests 
leave. You're a big boy. Be patient."

Robby also danced with a number of other women, mostly 
from the bank. He enjoyed holding them in his arms and 
swaying to the music with them. They, in turn, enjoyed 
being held by a strong young man who they didn't have 
to worry about. They danced all the closer because of 
that and more than one left the wedding to drag their 
husbands back to their bedrooms. 

The reception was planned to end at four in the 
afternoon. That was for two reasons. First, the 
newlyweds had a plane to catch, and didn't want to have 
to hurry to get to the first leg of their four day 
honeymoon. That it was only four days was because 
Ramona had decided she didn't want to quit work. Not 
yet, anyway. A lot of her social structure was 
underpinned by her friends at the bank, and she didn't 
want to abandon that. And she insisted that she receive 
no special benefits at work either, because of who she 
was now married to. She only had four days of vacation 
left for the year, and that was all she asked for.

The other reason was that, if they kept the guests 
longer, it would run into the supper hour, and Ramona 
and Robert wanted their first married supper to be a 
family supper. That meant that the reception ending 
needed to be backed up to a time that would allow Ramon 
to prepare supper, and for the four of them to eat it 
without haste.

A bell rang and the guests lined up to file past the 
Nettletons and their two teenaged children. A few of 
the men claimed a kiss from the bride, who gave them 
out willingly, not minding strange lips pressed against 
hers for such a short time. Several of the ladies 
hugged Robert, but none tried to kiss him, with one 
exception.

Renee was last in line, her husband preceding her. When 
he kissed Ramona firmly on the lips, she suggested that 
what was good for the gander was good for the goose and 
reached her lips up to Robert.

Ramona had told him what Renee had said about him in 
prior months and so he gave her a kiss that was much 
longer, with much softer lips than a lot of people 
would have considered proper. He also let his hand slip 
very low on her back, almost, but not quite cupping her 
left buttock, which was hidden from the others in the 
room. She sagged in his arms a little and was 
breathless when the kiss broke.

"Thank you for helping me fight my battle." he said 
softly. "Were it not for you Ramona may never have 
given me a chance."

Renee's eyes were a little unfocused from the kiss. 
"That's OK." she sighed. Then she giggled, her eyes 
clearing. "If I couldn't have you I wanted the next 
best girl to get you." Then she turned to Ted who was 
looking at Debbie like he was considering kissing her 
too. "Come on Romeo, I have something I want you to do 
for me." She stopped in front of Debbie and hugged her, 
kissing her on the cheek. "Weddings always make me so 
horny!" she whispered. Debbie hadn't been expecting 
that from an adult, and the shock showed on her face. 
Renee laughed. "Don't worry about it. You'll understand 
some day."

Debbie, though, understood very well already. She just 
hadn't expected an adult to say something like that out 
loud. The wedding had made Debbie horny too. She looked 
sideways at her brother and felt her pussy tighten up.

Finally everyone was gone. Ramona had already made the 
Lasagna, and had put it in the refrigerator to keep. 
Now she lovingly re-created the same meal that, last 
time, had ended so disastrously in her old home. 

"You all go change clothes while I finish this up." she 
said. 

The three of them went upstairs and, after changing 
clothes, Robert had a suspicion. He quietly let himself 
into the secret passageway and stepped up the hall to 
look into his new step-daughter's bedroom. She was just 
dropping her dress onto the bed, now dressed only in 
panties and thigh-high hose. She was gorgeous, he 
thought, her body that perfect shape that went with 
young women in the prime of their lives. His intent 
wasn't to spy on her nakedness, though he enjoyed 
seeing that. As he had suspected, he saw the door open 
and Robby step into the room. He was already dressed in 
jeans and a T shirt.

"Um... do you need any help?" he asked his sister, who 
turned her head to look at him.

"What a bunch of hooey!" she snorted. "You just want to 
ravish me."

"OK" agreed Robby happily. "Want to be ravished?"

"Mom took me to the doctor last week." she said, 
pulling on a pair of terrycloth shorts. "She got me a 
prescription for birth control pills."

Robby was obviously stunned. "She did?! I didn't know 
that! Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Because, my horny brother, you have to take them for a 
whole month before they're effective."

"A whole MONTH?!" moaned Robby. "We have to wait a 
whole nother MONTH?"

"Don't you love me enough to wait another month?" asked 
Debbie. Robby was so upset that he missed the tone in 
her voice. Their watching uncle, though, heard 
something disingenuous in her complaint.

"Of course I do." said Robby automatically. "But a 
whole month?"

"I'll do something nice for you after supper, when Mom 
and Uncle Bob leave for their honeymoon. How's that? 
You know how much you like to feel my mouth on you."

Robby sighed. "You look delicious. Maybe I should have 
you for supper instead of the lasagna." He leered at 
his sister's still naked breasts.

"Supper first." said Debbie firmly. "Then your birthday 
present and something else nice for you."

She pulled on a T shirt and they left together. Robert 
returned to the master bedroom to find his new wife 
also stripped to her panties.

"Oh!" she said as he came through the bookcase. "You 
startled me. What were you doing in there?"

"I was returning the favor for your children spying on 
us." he said, grinning.

Ramona's mouth made an "o". "You don't mean they 
were..." she asked.

"No" he smiled. "Robby was most insistent, but your 
daughter informed him that she is now taking birth 
control pills, and that he must wait a month. He was 
devastated."

"That's odd." said Ramona, pulling on the clothes she 
planned to travel in. "When we got the prescription she 
didn't seem all that excited."

"She is having to make adult decisions before she is 
truly an adult." said Robert, taking his wife into his 
arms. "Is there time before supper? You're daughter's 
nakedness has gotten me ready for my bride."

Ramona pushed him away. "You didn't say she was naked, 
you dirty old man. What will you do if they spy on us 
again?"

"I will do the same thing I was doing the last time 
they spied on us. I will be doing what I want to do 
right now."

"Be patient, you ogre." she teased. "We'll be on the 
island tonight and you can ravish me all you want. 
Until then you'll just have to think about it." She 
patted his crotch as he reflected on how much she and 
her daughter were alike, even to the point of speaking 
alike.

Supper was charged with emotion, not just because of 
the wedding and the good food and the family 
atmosphere. Everybody at the table was horny, though 
the women would have denied it to preserve their facade 
of control. The meal itself helped them all deal with 
their emotions. The asparagus and olives and deviled 
eggs announced both the importance of the meal, and 
that this was a time to be together, and to put aside 
personal desires. It was a good meal... a good start to 
their life as an expanded family.

Then there was the leave-taking to get through, during 
which both women, for some reason, felt compelled to 
cry. Ramona kissed her son goodbye on the lips, a long, 
lingering kiss. She let her tongue flick against his 
briefly and parted from him breathing deeply. She 
turned to see that her husband had taken the same route 
with Debbie.

Debbie, when her uncle kissed her, was unprepared for 
the kind of kiss he gave her. It took things a level 
higher than their last lingering kiss, on that night 
when he had presented her with a bouquet of flowers. 
That kiss had taken her breath away. This kiss made her 
want to be naked. It was like her kisses with Robby in 
some ways, as her uncle's tongue invaded her mouth and 
her own pressed against it. He tasted different, and 
she felt the stubble of his whiskers on the skin around 
her lips. Her knees got rubbery and she realized she 
could get used to being kissed by him, just as she 
loved being kissed by Robby.

Debbie and Robby stood hand in hand at the top of the 
steps to the front door as they watched their mother 
and uncle drive out of the gate. Debbie turned to her 
brother and gazed at him. 

"Go up to your room. I'll get your birthday present and 
call you when I'm ready to show it to you."

"OK" he said. He was jumpy with nervous sexual energy. 
He paced in his room, not sure how to deal with his 
pent up emotions. He thought about beating off, but 
knew she planned to suck him, and wanted to be hard for 
her. She liked the taste of his spunk too, so he wanted 
a full load to give her. He wondered vaguely what his 
birthday present was, but it was unimportant, compared 
to loving her.

He heard the knock on the wall between their rooms and, 
instead of going out in the hallway, went to the 
bookcase in his room and pressed a hidden catch that 
opened a secret doorway into her room. He had helped 
his uncle service that doorway, oiling the long unused 
hinges and locking mechanism, and replacing the rope on 
the counterweights that moved the heavy section of 
wall. As her bookcase swung open he found her facing 
him and his jaw dropped.


Chapter Seventeen
=================

Robby's birthday present was the outfit Debbie was 
wearing. It was a mixture of marina blue and sky blue, 
with gold threads in it that sparkled in the light. It 
had originally consisted of five items, though Debbie 
was wearing only four of them. Her legs were encased in 
black sheer silk stockings, held up by a garter belt 
that was sky blue and lacy. Over that was a pair of 
panties that were so brief as to cover only her mound 
itself, with thin straps that rose across each hip and 
went to the back. They were the darker blue. Over that 
was a diaphanous jacket, again the lighter blue. There 
was no way it was designed to keep a woman warm. Rather 
it's purpose was to showcase what was under it, in this 
case, the panties and her breasts. She had decided to 
leave the bra off. She might wear it for him later, but 
not tonight. She had taken flavored lipstick and 
darkened her nipples hastily, during which they became 
erect as she thought of her brother next door and what 
she had planned for him. Her breasts pushed proudly 
against the almost invisible cloth of the jacket.

"Happy Birthday." she said softly.

Robby was trying mightily to control himself. In one 
way he thought she was cruel, for showcasing the body 
he wanted so much, but was being denied... at least for 
a month. That thought made him react a little 
differently than Debbie might have expected.

"There's no way I'm wearing that thing." he said 
firmly.

Debbie was thunderstruck. Her mouth opened and closed 
as she tried to respond to his comment.

Robby stepped forward and took her face in his hands, 
sliding in under her hair, which was down and flowing 
to her shoulders.

"But it looks good on you." he said. He kissed her 
several times on the lips. "So I'm going to let you 
keep it as part of YOUR birthday present.

"You got me a present too?" she asked, her voice 
rising.

"Yeah. It cost a lot, so I had to work for it. I wanted 
to surprise you, but I'm not a tease like some people I 
know, so I didn't tell you I had it. You want it now?"

What Debbie wanted now was her brother... doing what 
she expected this outfit to require of him, whether he 
had permission or not. She had planned this evening 
very carefully, but things had already gone a little 
bit awry.

Before she could say "No, you can give it to me later." 
he backed up and said "I'll be right back."

He darted through the open bookcase and she saw him go 
to his bed and get on his knees and reach under the 
bed. He turned and she saw something white before his 
back obstructed her view.

"Close your eyes." he yelled.

Debbie closed her eyes most of the way, but peeked 
through her lashes.

"Cover them with your hands." yelled Robby, knowing his 
sister too well.

She snorted, but did as he asked. She heard him come 
into the room.

"OK" he said quietly.

Debbie opened her eyes. Robby had stripped off his own 
clothes and was naked. He held in his arms the long 
white box with the flowers in it for her. Her heart 
thumped in her chest as she reached for them. She 
lifted them out of the box like they were a baby... too 
precious to chance dropping. The pink roses were framed 
in a halo of red ones, with tiny white flowers on thin 
stems scattered throughout.

"There are sixteen of the pink ones." said Robby, 
feeling like he had to explain it.

Debbie raised her eyes to her brother's. He could see 
emotion in them, but she didn't say anything. She took 
a shuddering breath, bringing the roses to her nose and 
he realized she had been holding her breath for some 
reason. Her eyes never left his, though, and they 
looked... strange. He had never seen quite that look in 
her eyes before. She almost looked mad, like she was 
trying not to explode.

"They cost a lot." he said, feeling the urge to back 
up, in case she threw the flowers at him or something.

Debbie turned suddenly and took the flowers to her 
bureau, where she lay them tenderly at the base of the 
mirror. She turned around and stepped back toward her 
brother. Her hand lifted to the bow at her neck and she 
pulled a loose end she found there. The jacket drifted 
off her arms, sliding down her back to float to the 
floor.

"Take my panties off." she said.

Robby blinked. She sounded normal, but still looked... 
wild somehow. He knelt and grasped the strings that 
went up and over each hip. He pulled downward on them 
and gasped to see that, under the panties, all her 
pubic hair had been removed. Her pussy lips were plump 
and dark... thick... with a thick greasy moist look to 
them. They were so fat that he couldn't see her clit. 
He licked his lips. He could find it. He pushed his 
face toward her shaven pussy.

Her hands grabbed his hair and stopped him.

"No." she said, pulling upward.

Robby stood. That look was in her eyes. He was sure she 
was mad. Was she going to deny him contact, just 
because all he'd gotten her for her birthday were some 
miserable flowers?

"I don't want that right now." she said. Then she 
kissed him.

That kiss communicated to Robby that he was a fool. It 
interpreted that new look in her eyes as one he hoped 
he'd see often... daily, if possible. The passion with 
which she kissed him was almost animal... hungry... 
demanding. Still holding the kiss she stepped, forcing 
him to shuffle toward her bed. She tried to keep the 
kiss even as they fell on top of the bed, the awning of 
the four poster shaking as the posts vibrated. But she 
had to pull her lips from his to scoot and scramble up 
on the bed properly, where she lay back, her legs 
spread, her hair fanned out on the pillow.

"I want you in me." she said, her voice husky.

Robby felt electricity flash through him almost 
painfully as she offered him what he so desperately 
needed. His lust made him more forceful than normal 
and, as he hunkered over her and felt her guide him to 
her slot, he entered her roughly, slamming deep on his 
first lunge, spreading her fat pussy lips apart and 
mashing the clitty he had been unable to see.

"OHHhhhhhhhh" she moaned. "I've missed this so much."

All of Robby's attention was on the soft warm pussy 
that was clasping his erect tool. He felt the 
beginnings of a premature ejaculation and held still.

"Don't stop" she moaned.

"I'm too excited." he groaned in her ear. "If I move 
I'll cum."

"Oh." she breathed into his own ear. "And if I do this 
will you cum?"

She flexed her pussy muscles, squeezing his prick 
tightly before letting her pussy relax, and then doing 
it all over again.

"Ohhhhh yes... don't do that pleeease." he groaned.

"Or you'll cum in me?" she whispered, her tongue 
flicking out into his ear.

She felt his penis swell and felt is butt muscles tense 
under her hands as he prepared to jerk his penis out of 
her. As excited as he was, he remembered her mention of 
having gone on the pill, and that they weren't 
effective yet. And, as much as he wanted to flush her 
full of his seed, he knew that unless she wanted that 
too it would not be a good thing.

He began to withdraw as he felt his semen begin its 
one-second rush through his cock. He felt her hands on 
his ass dig in and pull him back down.

"Cum in me." she whispered. "That's what I want for my 
birthday. Cum in my pussy Robby."

Like fireworks, his semen burst forth from the tip of 
his prick as he pressed it deeply into her, bathing her 
cervix with his sperm-laden nectar. Even as his life-
giving fluid leave him, and his body pushed hard, he 
wanted to pull out of her. Then her words penetrated 
his consciousness. She WANTED this.

"Uhhhhhh" he grunted, a second strong spurt following 
the first. He knew she hadn't cum yet, and he ground 
against her in an attempt to bring her off.

Debbie tried to open herself even further as she felt 
his spunk shooting into her. She wasn't close to an 
orgasm, but right now an orgasm wasn't what she wanted. 

"I haven't taken any pills." she whispered in her 
brother's ear. He jerked into her at her words and she 
felt another wash of heat from the tip of his penis. "I 
don't want to take any pills." she encouraged him, 
milking his spurting prick with her pussy muscles. "I 
want you to make a baby in me Robby." She licked his 
ear again, and felt him shudder as another spurt 
flushed into her.

He sagged down on top of her, her stockinged legs 
wrapped around his thighs, her breasts crushed against 
him and leaving red marks on his chest. 

"Ohh Deb" he sighed, dragging in a breath afterward. 
"Do you mean it?"

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against him. "We don't 
have to wait now. Mom even said we could hire a nanny 
to help me raise a baby if we needed to. And you're 
going to fall in love with some other girl some day, so 
I want your baby now."

Robby's chest heaved as he pushed himself up to fix his 
sister's eyes. "I love YOU, Deb. I don't plan on 
falling in love with some other girl."

"We'll talk about that later." she said. "I gave you 
your birthday present. I like the flowers... no I LOVE 
the flowers... but right now I want to feel you 
spurting in me again Robby. I want to cum with you 
making a baby in me."

Robby gave her her wish.

They took a shower together... and he gave her her wish 
again.

In fact, Robby gave Debbie her birthday wish four times 
a day until their mother and uncle got back from their 
honeymoon. Had they compared notes, Debbie spent three 
times as much time with a stiff prick in her than her 
newlywed mother did.

================================================

The twins went back to school, where their friends 
were. The board of the Franklin Group was, in fact, 
ninety percent other teenagers. One teacher was invited 
to be on the board as well. Ramona and Robert were 
consultants to the group. Robert explained that some 
kinds of help were better than others, and that in some 
cases, "help" could actually hurt. Two months later, 
during a break in school, Debbie acted on the first 
recommendation of the Franklin board. She and Robby 
drove one of the few new things they'd bought since 
their mother got married, and went to a place they'd 
heard of called the Taylor School for Boys. They met a 
man named Phillip Masterson, who gave them a tour of 
the school.

The Taylor School accepted boys who were either 
orphaned, or had been removed from their homes because 
of abuse or the parents' inability to care for them. 
The boys were of an age where they were not attractive 
to prospective parents. Many of them had bad attitudes 
when they arrived at Taylor. But Taylor accepted them 
as the parents they'd never have. It was a technical 
and vocational school, designed specially to prepare 
such youth for life after the age of eighteen, when 
they'd be abandoned by the government that had seen to 
their basic needs, sometimes for all their lives.

Phillip showed them the automotive shop, the welding 
and wood shops, a room filled with appliances that were 
used to teach boys how to repair them. There was an 
electronics lab, such as it was. The school had 
formerly been a grocery store in an urban area that was 
abandoned by its residents as they moved out to new 
suburban homes. All the services were crammed into the 
ground floor of the place, with living quarters for 
twenty-three boys upstairs, dormitory style. Phillip 
Masterson lived with them, in the same dormitory 
setting.

They looked at the records of the school, and found 
that almost every graduate was employed and living on 
his own. There were four out of the hundred and fifteen 
who had graduated who were in jail. Sixty four of them 
were married and some had children already. It was an 
impressive record of success.

When they asked Masterson what he needed, he laughed. 
"I need a proper building. I need more staff. I need 
complete sets of tools. I need nicer rooms, where the 
boys don't have to be in public their whole lives. I've 
got a plan for girls too, but I can't mix them... not 
in this place. I'd need staff for them too. You want me 
to go on?" He laughed again. "I'm happy for your 
interest, but we need so much that I wouldn't even know 
where to suggest we could use your help." He smiled. "I 
appreciate you kids being interested, but I'm not sure 
what you all could do."

Debbie just smiled. "Let's just sit down and talk about 
that."

They left a very shaken Phillip Masterson when they 
left. A consultant was hired, who worked with Masterson 
and his staff. A mere three million dollars built a new 
facility that would handle over a hundred boys. Three 
State agencies kicked in money and expertise at the 
urging of the Foundation's attorney. The new facility 
would provide a place to train girls in secretarial 
skills, design and manufacturing of clothing, cooking, 
and a fast track to college to pursue a degree in 
education. It would take a while to get the girl's side 
going, as Masterson had decided that he had his hands 
full with the boys' program, but the facilities were 
there when a suitable director and staff were hired. 

The money provided by the Franklin Group was not 
required to be repaid, with one exception. Money was 
made available for boys to borrow to start their own 
businesses after graduation. That money had to be paid 
back, with interest... a whopping half of a percent of 
interest.

The word got out that the Franklin Group was willing 
and able to do good things. That word would generate an 
interest in the group that would cause the twins to 
have to finish their education with tutors, because 
they had too much work to do. But that would come 
later.

For now, life was more or less normal, and when Debbie 
and Robby got back and delivered their report to their 
mother and uncle, there was a minor celebration and 
hopes that something good would happen because of what 
they had just decided to do.

That night, they settled in to watch Bonanza on the 
brand new thirteen inch Sony Trinitron television, one 
of the first available in the United States. They made 
a habit of sharing the long couch when they watched TV 
together, because that let them put the TV close enough 
that they could all see and hear it better.

On this particular night, Ramona and Robert sat in the 
middle, with Debbie on Robert’s other side, while Robby 
sat beside his mother. Debbie leaned in and wiggled 
under her uncle's shoulder, cuddling up to him. Ramona, 
tired after her day at the bank, leaned back with one 
hand on her husband's thigh, and the other on her 
son's.

It was during a commercial that Debbie realized her 
uncle's hand was cupping her right breast, which was 
naked under her flannel nightgown. 

"Uncle Bob!" she said. "You're a happily married man!" 
she teased.

Her uncle looked down at his hand and he gave her 
breast a little squeeze.

"I'm very happy right now." he teased back.

Ramona and Robby leaned forward to look at what was 
happening. Despite Ramona's promise to her son, they 
had not been intimate since the honeymoon. They had 
come close a few times, when a hello or goodbye kiss 
got a little carried away, but both were well taken 
care of sexually, and the urge stayed... just an urge. 
Most nights Robby and Debbie slept together, in his bed 
sometimes, and in hers others. 

Ramona elbowed her husband. "It's not fair for you to 
play and I don't get to." she pouted. Her hand strayed 
up Bobby's thigh to his crotch and cupped his thick 
penis and balls through his pajama bottoms. Robby's 
sucked in breath could be heard over the voice of the 
announcer, extolling the virtues of Pepsodent 
toothpaste.

Now it was Robert who leaned forward and he saw where 
his wife's hand was.

"Methinks thou dost protest too much." he quoted. He 
suddenly felt a hand on his own half hard prick and 
looked down to see Debbie's hand on the outside of his 
own pajamas.

"I can't reach his." she said demurely. "Besides, 
somebody else already did, so I guess yours will have 
to do."

They were all playing, but sometimes horsing around 
goes farther than anyone would have anticipated. The 
four of them missed Hoss Cartwright lifting a broken 
wagon off of where it had fallen on his little brother. 
They missed the straining, as his bulky muscles bunched 
and his face contorted and he grunted.

That's because their own muscles were bunching and 
straining, their own faces were contorted, as kisses 
were given and taken. Soon Ramona's hand was inside her 
son's pajamas, wrapped firmly around his stiff column 
of flesh, and Robert's hands were roaming under the 
flannel that covered Debbie's naked body. Robby's 
fingers found his mother's slick slot, and Debbie's 
hand touched, for the first time, the penis that had 
brought her mother so much pleasure.

It was Ramona who broke first. She stood up, her 
pajamas hanging open where Robby had unbuttoned them so 
he could get to her breasts with his mouth.

"Bobby?" she said breathlessly. He looked up from 
kissing Debbie. "Robby has been very bad." She closed 
her pajamas over her naked breasts. "I need to have a 
stern talk with him. I'm going to go do that in our 
bedroom if that's all right with you." She looked down 
at her husband's crotch. The fly of his pajamas had her 
daughter's wrist coming out, attached to her arm. There 
was movement inside the garment.

Ramona put her hands on her hips. "I see that Debbie is 
being bad too. Would you be willing to take care of her 
punishment for me? While I deal with Robby?"

Robert smiled up at his wife. "Yes dear." he said 
simply. He looked down at his niece. "Debbie!" he said 
sternly. "Go to your room!" 

Debbie pulled his stiff prick out of his fly and jacked 
on it two or three more times. "Yes Uncle Bob." she 
said meekly.

Ramona took Robby to the master bedroom. She was 
topless before they got there, and her pajama bottoms 
hit the floor just inside the room. She pulled the 
covers back and lay down, scooting over into the middle 
of the bed. Robby was right behind her.

Robert let himself be led to Debbie's room. Once inside 
she turned to him and stood, arms at her sides. She 
looked uncertain.

"This is something you wish to do, yes?" asked her 
uncle.

"I love Robby." she said.

"As I love your mother." he nodded.

"I don't want you to love my mother any less." she 
said.

"Alas, I cannot leave her and marry you. It would cause 
a scandal." he teased. Then moreb seriously. "Are you 
worried about Robby? Are you afraid his feelings for 
you will suffer what they are doing?"

Debbie shook her head. "No, I know he loves me. I'm not 
worried about that. It's just that I've never... with 
anybody except Robby... I guess I'm just nervous."

Robert used patience, taking things slow. They talked, 
and lay together on the bed, kissing and fondling each 
other. She talked about the house, and what she and her 
brother had done in this very room, before they knew 
they had an uncle. He teased her physically, until she 
sat up and removed her nightgown to lie naked beside 
him. Then he got out of his own pajamas, but still only 
cuddled with her, stroking her, telling her she was 
beautiful... wooing her in a sense.

And, when her passions had been raised to a fever 
pitch, and she tugged at him, rolling onto her back, he 
knelt between her thighs and let her experience what 
another man was like.

In the other room, before Debbie even felt a penis 
enter her body, Ramona had experienced four orgasms, 
and Robby was working on his second.

Debbie was amazed at how different it felt, and how 
much the same it felt. Her uncle was built differently 
everywhere, including that part of him that probed her 
depths. His back felt different to her roaming hands. 
His chest felt different on her breasts. His mouth felt 
different on her neck and nipples. Her orgasm felt 
different too. It was a sweet one, that snuck up on her 
and sent tingles all through her. The orgasms she had 
with Robby were powerful and earthshaking. The orgasm 
her uncle gave her was like licking ice cream... sweet 
and long lasting.

At last Robert stopped. "I am very close, darling 
niece. I would not place my seed in your body without 
your permission." he panted.

Debbie stroked his sides. "I'm not too worried. I've 
already missed two periods, so I don't think you can do 
much more damage."

He froze, amazed. His wife and sister had told him 
nothing of this. "I did not know." he said.

Debbie pulled at his hips, to get him moving again. "I 
haven't told Mom yet. Or Robby either. I'm going to 
have to pretty soon. I need to start seeing a doctor."

"This is true." said her uncle. "This is also a good 
thing, yes?" he asked.

Her smile bloomed. "Oh yes! This is a very good thing! 
I'm very happy."

"Then I shall be happy too." he panted. "I shall be 
happy for you... and in you..." he grunted. "I shall 
be... very... happy" he sighed as he sent his 
incestuous semen deep in his pregnant niece's pussy.

They lay there, and talked some more, idly caressing 
each other and catching their breath.

"Thank you." said Robert.

"Welcome to the family" giggled Debbie.

In the other room, Ramona lay spent and exhausted, both 
from a day at work, and from four body wrenching 
orgasms. Her son, having pumped her full of his spunk 
twice, lay with his head on her breasts.

"Debbie's not taking her pills." he said to his mother.

"I know." she said. "She should have refilled them by 
now, and she's never asked me to take her to do that."

"I probably shouldn't have cum inside you either." he 
said.

"You can't make me pregnant, darling." she sighed.

"Why not?" he asked. 

"Because I already am." she said, running her fingers 
through his hair. I was on time last month, like I 
always am. You could set a clock by me if you wanted 
to. Well, not any more. I should have started five days 
ago. I'm afraid you're going to be a brother again... 
or an uncle... or something, darling."

"Really?" he raised his head. "That's GREAT, Mom! What 
does Uncle Bob think about that?"

"He doesn't know yet." said his mother. "I didn't want 
to give him a false alarm. I'll probably mention it 
tomorrow."

Robby raised up. His penis hung, full and heavy from 
between his legs. It was as stiff as it had been when 
he first came into the room.

"Let's celebrate" he leered.

Ramona moaned. 

But she spread her legs.

It was probably two in the morning when Debbie and 
Robert padded into the master bedroom, still naked. 
Debbie had stopped long enough to get a washcloth and 
wipe between her legs, but her inner thighs were 
already glistening again as more of her uncle's sperm 
seeped out of her. They stood, looking at the two 
people in the bed, lying side by side. Debbie climbed 
in beside her brother, while Robert went around and 
climbed in beside his sister.

Fifteen minutes later there was only the slow, measured 
rasp of people's sleeping breathing.

At the window the curtain moved. It was a small 
movement, as if an errant breeze had wafted through the 
window.

The window was brand new, however, and tightly closed. 
There was no way for any breeze of any kind to have 
penetrated to move the curtain.

And yet, the curtain moved again, this time hitting the 
glass lightly, almost as if something had passed 
through it, and then through the glass, leaving the 
house, and perhaps trying to take the curtain with it.

As if pain was leaving the house... pain that stained 
the soles of the feet of a ghost who turned a smiling 
face on the four in the bed as it was finally set free 
to go elsewhere.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 43