From: Bistander <vallucanbe@gmail.com>

The History: Back in 2009, having never written a story before, and knowing little about grammar, punctuation, or how to create a story, I thought, let me give it a try. I had this stupid idea about a boy going up in the attic, so I wrote a few thousand word story. To my surprise and amazement, people read it and said there needed to be more. That’s how the saga of the writing of My Neighbor’s Incest started.

This is a great site that provides tons of free stories in many genres, except they're not really free. It cost money and time to keep Nifty going. I know I appreciate a platform to post, and the effort the admin puts in. If you can, please support this site. A little bit from a lot of us goes a long way.

My Neighbor's Incest Part XIX

bistander

We Can Share

I had returned from the wonderful retreat at my aunt's house with a deeper understanding of love. Everything with Cindy had been incredible, and temporary. Sure, we had our special love, and the wonderful memories we created, but we always knew it could never be more than that. It was sad, yet Cindy and I now shared a forever friendship and secret love. Nothing, not even all the forces that said we couldn’t be lovers could take that away.

After several days back at home, the darkness across my driveway had driven me almost to madness. Distance and time had created a hunger that could only be satisfied by Susan's arms wrapped around my neck. Followed by Jasmine's arms wrapped around both of us. I missed them both in the same painful way and needed them to come home. My brain played tricks on me regularly. I'd run outside at the flicker of headlights, only to find they were from a lost traveler making a turnaround. I tortured myself with every possibility, from a plane crash to Mr. Davis hunting them down and stealing them away from me. I couldn't believe they weren't here, and I had no way to contact them. Why hadn't I gotten an address before leaving for Cindy’s?

"Joe, you got mail." My mother's words created a habitual desire to groan and head for the mailbox. However, as her words replayed in my brain, they caused a question mark expression to form on my face.

"Mail, something for me in the mail?"

"Yes, and based on these hearts drawn on the envelope, I'd say it's from one of your girlfriends."

My heart pounded in my chest as I dashed across the room. "Let me see, where is it?" I snatched it from my mother's hand like it was something she shouldn't even be allowed to touch. "Thank you."

I took the letter to our special spot behind my house and sat with my back against the wall, staring at the return address in Pennsylvania. At my age, they might as well be on the moon, I thought.

Five minutes after receiving my mail, I still hadn't opened it. What if they're not coming back? Why hadn't I given Susan her bracelet before I left? I didn't know Susan's handwriting from Jasmine's, nor did I know whose words my heart needed more. The now sweat-covered envelope I clutched in my hands held some answers. Why don't you open it, I asked myself?

My question went unanswered as I remembered the day I stood in this now monumental spot. I had listened as Jasmine unraveled in the most horrific way. She went from sexual goddess to a broken and used-up shell of a person before my eyes. Over the weeks that followed, I had seen her mending heart turn from stone to flesh. She needed me, and I loved her. Her words would bless me to the center of my being.

Susan needed me too, but I needed her more. She was my first true love. Nobody, no matter how great a love, could ever take that place in my heart. She gave me joy and strength to replace what Jasmine had drained from me, but Susan's transformation into the former Jasmine had pierced and divided my heart severely. Only my purpose towards Jasmine and her love had held the pieces together.

I ripped the envelope open when the pain of not knowing exceeded the fear of the potentially bad news.

Dear Joe,

I'm not good at writing letters, but I'm sure you know I'm worse at talking about my feelings. I miss you like air, and need you. I have started this letter so many times I needed to get more paper from the store. I hate myself more each day that passes without you.

I am so sorry I messed up the week we could have spent so much time together. Every day, I sit here freezing my ass off, thinking about how I spoiled everything. I could have been with you every day after school, instead, I was locked in my room. Not that I would have come out even if my mother would have let me. I could be there right now with you, but instead I'm here missing you.

Joe, I don't know if I can ever face you again. I don't know if I can ever face anyone there again. I hope you haven't heard about it yet, but I'm sure you will eventually. Everything Jasmine warned me about over the summer, everything that made her never want to go back to her old school, I ignored it. Now, I'm the slut, the little whore who everyone knows is easy.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you'll hate me when you know, if you don't already. I don't know if I'll ever come back. I don't even know if I'll send this letter.

I can promise you this, I love you, and I'm saving myself for you. If I ever come back, I'll be untouched by anyone here. Now, I miss you more than air.

That night, Mary dared me, but she didn't have to. I was so upset about my dad and my life that acting out seemed like the only way to make the pain stop. I just never expected I'd allow myself to be used like that. Mary is just like me, and the two of us together, God, I'm a slut like Jasmine used to be. She's really sad here, like me, but for a different reason. She can't come back, and I'm afraid to.

I miss you too much. I hope you had a great Christmas, and I hope you didn't kiss anybody at midnight on New Years’. Jasmine and I kissed at midnight, thinking about you.

My mom has to come back soon for her baby doctor, but I'm staying here. Our lives are so messed up. I hope you're not sorry you ever met us. I can't live without you, but I can't bear to see you. I can't be rejected by the only person I loved.

Goodbye

Susan

I wasn't breathing by the time I got to Susan's goodbye. It sounded so final. My princess was being held captive, but not in the dungeon of some faraway castle. No, she was a prisoner of her own hopeless vision of herself. Why isn't Jasmine helping her? I couldn't imagine why Jasmine would let her sister spiral so far down into despair. Jasmine knows I'd never stop loving Susan. I banged my head with the crumpled letter, knowing if I had just given Susan her gift before she left, she would remember my promise, no matter what, I won't stop loving you. How many times had I told her that?

I wanted to do something, but I couldn't even figure out how to make my legs work. I hugged my knees, crying like a baby on the ground. Susan's desperation and pain had bled from the pen onto paper and straight to my heart. "Now I miss you more than air. Goodbye." What was she saying?

Later in my house.

"Son, I'm very sorry about your problem, but don't overreact. Without at least knowing the town in Pennsylvania, there is no way to find their phone number. Especially, if you're not even sure of their last name. I'm sorry, I think you're overreacting. Her whole family is there with her, they won't let her stop breathing, even if that was what she was saying." My mother's warm face told me she understood my hopelessness, but she didn't have an answer.

I had only shared a tiny part of Susan's letter, so I was sure my mother didn't really understand the depth of Susan's pain. My mother also didn't know Mr. Davis was gone. Or, at least I didn't think she knew. I still wanted to call information, but what would I say, "Probably Davis, in Pennsylvania, someplace?" Why didn't Susan write the whole return address on the envelope or add it to her letter? Maybe her letter wasn't really her own words? What if she's a captive. My thoughts and emotions conspired to destroy me throughout that long night.

Two days after Susan's letter had arrived, the pain it caused had only been masked by total exhaustion. I hadn't slept, I hardly ate, and I couldn't think. Even curiosity about what Susan had actually done couldn't break my constant worry about her emotional state. I missed her so much.

My concern for Jasmine's well-being had barged into my already over-stressed mind after the first night. I think the pain of not seeing her had been eased at first by my worrying about Susan. Still, I felt a huge hole in my life. The wonderful void she had filled since Thanksgiving, had become a giant sinkhole. What are they going to do about school? My thought only created a greater fear, thinking they must have already made arrangements to stay there. They can't just not go to school.

Back at school, I stared into my locker blankly, trying to figure out what class I was going to, and which books I needed to take. Everything about school reminded me of Jasmine, and every thought about Jasmine reminded me of Susan. "Joe, hey, where's your girlfriend?"

When I mumbled, "Which one?" to my friend who was used to seeing me kiss Jasmine at this time every day, I didn't realize what I had said.

"Funny dude. Like you'd need another one when you got the hottest girl in school. Jasmine, where has she been?" My friend's words made a good point, but it wasn't like I had planned what happened. Love had been fuckin' with me. I didn't want it anymore, it hurt too much. I needed that time machine.

"Joe, where's your head? You going to speak or keep staring into space? You been smoking that weed Larry's been selling?"

"Jeez, I might as well, at least then I'd have an excuse for failing all my classes. Hey, I'm not sure when she's coming back. There was a death or something in her family and she had to go up north. I can't imagine what she's doing about school. I miss her." I never talked to Billy about my love life, and I wasn't sure why I had started now. I almost started crying, and that would not have been okay.

"Shit, who wouldn't. I miss her, and I only get to watch you kiss her. Remember when Caylie Murphy disappeared for like two months, then came back? Nobody ever knew where she went, but when she came back she wasn't even behind. They can send your work to you under certain conditions. I don't know, but maybe she's dumping you and moved away so you wouldn't stalk her?"

Billy laughed at his joke, and I resisted the urge to slug him in the face, but could not hold back my tears. I turned quickly. "Gotta pee. Talk to you later."

I sat in the crap stall, crying for the ten-thousandth time, wondering why Jasmine didn't write to me. Every question I asked myself, all the different scenarios I dreamed up, and my every thought of Jasmine and Susan broke my heart a little more. Everything I had imagined about how bad it was going to feel to break up with one of the girls, amounted to one tear in the Gulf of Mexico compared to the hurt I was feeling without either of them.

"Mom, why do people cry?" I hadn't planned on asking my mother any question that might tip her off to my current emotional state, but as I passed through the kitchen it popped out.

I regretted asking when I heard my mother start with, "Well son." Those words and that tone always preceded something deeper and longer than I wanted. "They may teach you something different in Biology class, but what I think is this. You know you have a spirit inside you, and that spirit is who you really are. Your body is just your earth suit for your spirit. Your spirit is so much more than you can imagine, and it's forever. Your spirit can sometimes experience things that are too powerful for your body, like God's love. So, if you feel something too powerful for your body, it squeezes out from your eyes as tears. If it wasn't for that, you might explode."

"Like in that movie, Scanners?" My mother's deep spiritual talk wasn't completely wasted even though my question gave her that impression. I couldn't make it too easy for her. Besides, I was looking for an excuse to let some of my, "too powerful," feeling escape from my eyes so I didn't explode.

I chose the comfort of mindless afternoon cartoons over homework and planned to stay there until dinner. But, my mother's voice floated over my head as I stared at a screen full of stupidity, "Joe, did you get the mail?"

I groaned inside and lifted what felt like my eight-thousand-pound body off the couch. "Don't look at me like that," my mother said. "It's not like you didn't walk past the mailbox when you came home from school."

If she understood the pain I felt every time the fuckin' metal box denied me a message from the distant kingdom, where my princesses were being held, my mother wouldn't ask. For the first two weeks, I had almost run to it each day, but now, I couldn't stand the horrific rejection it slapped me with. Bills, junk, magazines, and painful emptiness.

47 Chair House Rd, Hicksville, PA. I almost collapsed at the sight of the handwritten words. I ran through the kitchen, dropping the other mail on the table, and fell onto my bedroom floor, leaning back against the dresser. My fingers shook as they traced the letters of my name, Joe. I pictured the words inside the card Jasmine had given me at school and knew it was her handwriting on the envelope.

Dearest Joe,

I started crying as soon as I wrote your name. I do that every time I try to write you. I'm holding your heart to help me. I don't think I could have made it through this without having your heart and promise here with me. I look at it a few thousand times a day.

I can't even tell you how much I miss you. I'm so sorry I couldn't write sooner, but I couldn't. It hurt too much to think about what I had to say. Everything hurts so much. Without you to help me, it's been so much worse. You're my knight, my strength, and my hope. I can't stand to be away from you, but I had to stay here. I can't even call you. I think if I had heard your voice I would have run away and come back to you.

I'm glad I didn't do that. Susan needed me. Joe, she tried to kill herself. She couldn't stand the pain, and she didn't have any way to escape from it. Don't worry, she's okay. We're all going to be okay.

I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say that more when I was there, but being away from you makes it so obvious how much I love you. Therapy helps, too. We're all going, it's good. Except that we can't say everything. Don't want anyone to go to prison, anyone else.

I don't know what's going to happen, or when, but I know I'm coming back. One way or another, I'm coming back. Soon I hope. I need you. Plan on being hugged for a very long time when I get there. Mom will be there soon, but I'm going to stay a little while longer for Susan. I hope I can bring her back soon, too.

I hope neither of us gets left-back. Except, me and you could be in the same grade next year. I'm kidding. Jesselyn has been helping me with my work. She got all the brains in this family. The school has been good about helping out. But, I think mom lost her job. I don't think she cares because she's going to have a baby soon. I can't wait. Maybe you can be a father figure. I'm sure my dad isn't coming back this time. I'm sad, glad. I'm dealing with it.

My therapist doesn't want me talking to you, but if you can call me, please do. My aunt's phone doesn't even have long-distance, but I got to hear your voice now. I can't wait anymore. 1-215-555-4747

Joe, I'm crying too much to keep writing this. I'm going to mail it in the morning. I don't know how long it takes to get there. I'll be listening for the phone and watching the mailbox.

I love you, I love you, I love you, times one million.

Jasmine

Jasmine's signature hearts with flames were drawn all around the paper. Several of them were blurred where they had been splashed with teardrops. I read the letter ten times before I finally folded it up and tucked it under my pillow. My joy could only be measured against my sorrow for Susan. Everything was wrong, so wrong, but my heartfelt some hope. "Maybe you can be a father figure."

I was ready to call her right away but was nervous about the whole shroud of secrecy. Why wouldn't her therapist want her to speak to me? I couldn't help wondering if I was somehow bad for her, or if there was going to be trouble with me calling. I played Jasmine's words over and over trying to read between the lines and piece everything together.

"Please mom, pretty please, she has to get it soon. It's her Christmas present, I should have given it to her before she left. Send it there as fast as it can go, and I'll never complain about your meatloaf again, I promise." I pushed the address towards my mother. I'd call Jasmine and explain the bracelet before it got there. Susan had to be reminded every day of our forever promise.

I yawned, sitting on the living room floor and looked around the end of the couch at the clock. It was almost midnight on a school night, and the only sound on the phone was Jasmine breathing. We had said everything that could have been said thirty minutes earlier, but neither of us was willing to end the call. "I know I said this already, and never did anything about it, but this time I got to go to bed. It's a school night. I'll call you again soon, around the same time."

"You're right," Jasmine said. "I'm really tired, too. I love you."

"I love you more." I waited for the click, afraid I'd end the call before she did, and nothing happened.

"On the count of three," Jasmine said, "we both put the phone down. Ready, one, two, three."

I forced my hand to return the phone to the cradle, and stared at it, knowing my love was on the other end of the wire, probably doing the same thing. I was sad as soon as I knew she was really gone.

I had told Jasmine to be watching for Susan's bracelet, and that I had gotten it to make her feel better. It was sort of a lie, but not really, because I did get it to make her feel better. Jasmine didn't really need to know I had it all along. I figured if she asked, I'd tell her the truth, but didn't figure it would ever come up. I kind of got off easy.

Susan was still an inpatient at the psych hospital, but Jasmine promised to take the bracelet to her as soon as it got there. Or, Susan might be home before then, because she was getting out soon. I couldn't even imagine going through all that. It sounded like Jasmine had saved Susan's life. Jasmine has been so strong for her sister and mother, I bet one day she will be a great mother. How close had we come to finding out that day in the woods, I wondered?

The next week was better because I knew what was going on, but I still felt like I was in shock. I had heard of bad things happening to people, but it always seemed like it was a movie or something not real. Finding myself right in the middle of a tragedy left me feeling like a helpless kid.

It was the second day after Mrs. Davis came home, but I was still overwhelmed at the prospect of facing her. Jasmine convinced me it was a good idea. My nerves buzzed as I reached for the doorbell. Everything was so different since the last time I spoke to Mrs. Davis. I still wondered about the life in her belly, but that was overshadowed by everything else. Her daughters were way up north, hurting, her husband was gone, and she was going to have a baby. Her world must have been upside down. Now, knowing that Susan wasn't Chris's daughter, but not knowing if she knew I knew, made me even more uncomfortable. I told myself, "So what."

My heart raced as soon as I heard a touch of the doorknob. I had to see the only connection to Susan and Jasmine that existed here, aside from paper that arrived in my mailbox, or my recent phone calls to Jasmine. I thought I might resort to begging Mrs. Davis to bring them back.

The door swung open, and the amazingly beautiful Mrs. Davis stood before me. Silence was all I heard as a magical glow radiated from her being. My mouth hung open as my eyes moved up and down her body. She wore black stretchy pants and a white shirt. Both were stretched to capacity by her maternal increase. Her belly held her shirt out so it dangled above her waistband. Right in the middle of her excessively large baby pod was an erect belly button poking out.

The fabric was snug across her baby compartment but hung loosely across the gap between her belly and her giant milk jugs. Her swollen chest pulled the shirt taught. I could see the dark rings of Chris's huge nipples through the material. Even overinflated and unsupported, her tits seemed firm. Their base rested on the top of Mrs. Davis's bulging belly, then curved up to their fabulously rounded points. In my mind's eye, they seemed like they would pop if squeezed. I was amazed.

By the time my eyes reached the woman's beautiful face, I had completely lost all memory of any of the rehearsed icebreakers I had practiced. I was actually incapable of logical thought. The woman I had known and lusted over had been replaced by something I couldn't comprehend. There was some powerful force of nature working on me. It couldn't be denied. Is it the baby, or Chris's likeness to Jasmine?

I couldn't move or speak. Mrs. Davis touched my hand. "Joe, it's okay, you can touch it." I must have been staring at her belly. She was suddenly too close, and her hand was leading mine to her stomach. "You want to, don't you?" Did I?

Chris didn't wait for an answer, she placed my palm on the side of her stomach. It was firm, drum-like. I was terrified as her hand slowly led mine around the swollen orb. "Mrs. Davis." My voice worked, but my planned words were still lost.

She backed up—my hand still connected—I followed as if hypnotized by her maternal powers. We were as close as her belly would allow. I looked down at her navel prong touching my stomach. I felt feelings I could not explain, but knew they made me uncomfortable. Part of me was freaked out by the motherly figure in front of me, and another part was drawn to her in ways I had never known. I wondered if part of me was inside her, and the thought made me shiver. It was also possible that because this woman once had Jasmine inside her, they were part of each other, therefore I needed Chris now more than ever? Did Mrs. Davis need me?

I found myself moving my hand around her whole stomach, except my hand was now against her stretched skin. "It's amazing how hard it is." My words seemed really dumb after I heard them playback in my head. Still, I was thrilled something came out of my mouth.

When my hand worked its way around the front and under her belly, my fingertips brushed against her bristly pubic hair. I tried to jerk away when I realized I had gone out of bounds, but her handheld mine in place. I couldn't believe her belly rounded all the way to her bush. That meant my fingers were inches away from her pussy. It didn't bother me that it was my girlfriends' mother, I was actually afraid of the place a baby was going to come from.

I quickly moved my hand around the side of her stomach. My other hand joined in on the opposite hip and they met behind her back. With her baby pressed against me, I looked into her eyes. I saw her deep loneliness and pain, accompanied by the loving nature that made her Jasmine's mother. Really, to me, Chris was their mother. That was what she had been, and would always be to me.

The beautiful woman I had made love to months ago smiled back at me. Tenderly, our lips pressed together while our eyes searched for a logical escape. Her tongue softly traced my lips and mine met hers in the middle. My eyelids fell as my head tilted and our mouths quickly got reacquainted. I sighed into Mrs. Davis's mouth. I didn't come here for this, what am I doing? Any hope for an answer was lost as my hands broke past the elastic barrier and embraced the big round ass that acted as a counterbalance for a pregnant woman.

Even though the territory had grown, the landscape was pleasingly familiar to my hands. The painful longing for my girlfriends was being soothed by their embodiment in the woman before me. My hands traveled around the plump cheeks and into the valley that divided them. This could be Jasmine's body one day, holding our baby.

I ignored the terrifying reality of what was happening, and let her lips fondle my neck and ear. I reached under both cheeks, lifting nature's perfect counterweights. I felt the heat from her breasts on my chest as her lips washed away any hesitation that existed seconds before. My hands boldly explored everything they could reach inside the back of Mrs. Davis's pants.

My one hand daringly found its way around to a hip, upper thigh, and challenged her hairy mound. A nervous chill shivered through me when my finger touched her wet baby hole. Blinded by her soft breath in my ear, I let my finger slip between her wet lips.

Almost ceremoniously, Mrs. Davis led me back to the exact location where I might have ignited the life now inside her body. I felt like I was in a zombie movie and had been taken over as she undid my pants. I watched them get lowered to the floor. As I stepped out of them, she admired my protruding flesh with a smile. "Mm, wonderful."

I watched her lift her shirt past her belly and over her head. Her tits called for my hands. I tentatively placed one on each side and slowly moved them toward the tips. "Do they hurt?" I couldn't believe they were so full and firm.

"Yes, please kiss them and make them feel better."

The smile that had accompanied her words made me pretty sure they didn't actually hurt. I found many wonderful places to kiss while my hands carefully touched the overinflated balloons. I was so scared I might cause a pressure release that I barely touched the taught flesh.

Mrs. Davis squeezed my hands, causing them to sink in. To my utter surprise, she didn't scream in pain or spray milk uncontrollably. She purred as I lifted them and kissed between them. I took a nipple between my lips. It instantly swelled and lengthened. As my tongue circled, it grew even further into my mouth. Almost daring it to squirt, I sucked even more nipple out of the mammary gland. When I pulled my mouth away, the most amazing nipple stood before my eyes. It was huge, like the nipple on a baby's bottle. I sucked hard on the other one to make them match.

"My god, they're incredible." I wasn't sure if my thought was verbal or not, but I had never been more fascinated by a tit.

Mrs. Davis gently let the tips of her fingers move from my balls, up the length of my shaft, and around my swollen head. "Suck them more, it feels good."

Her hands moved to the base of each tit and worked outward as she lifted them to my mouth. I wanted to suck both nipples at once, but there was no way the valley between them could be closed. This woman fascinated me in so many ways. I seized a nipple between my teeth, batted it with my tongue, and lustfully sucked more and more into my mouth. Suddenly, with a suck and a squeeze of her hands, her tit juice spilled into my mouth. I pulled off, savoring the strange taste. The dark crown had fluid seeping from it.

"It's okay Joe, it's not going to hurt you." Mrs. Davis pushed the other tit to my mouth. I opened wide and sucked with new confidence.

The woman's soft moaning encouraged my eager sucking. I worked my tongue around the tip as I sucked harder and harder. I quickly lost all care for the inappropriateness of my action and drank the odd tasting juice. The harder I sucked and chewed the more Mrs. Davis moaned and pulled my face into her chest.

Chris pushed my head back by my ears, exhaled an exasperated breath, sat, and leaned back on the couch. She worked the pants past her hips, lifted and shoved them under her ass. When they reached her thighs, I grabbed them and took them the rest of the way down her legs. I dropped her pants but held her bare feet against my groin. My erection stood between them while I rolled her toes.

Her foot pressed my cock against my body. I moved my eyes slowly up the shapely legs until I reached her beachball-sized belly. It stood so high and sloped down from the rounded crown all the way to her pubic mound. Jasmine had said, "Maybe you can be a father figure." I shivered at the thought of what was inside Mrs. Davis's body.

The way Chris stared at me made my heart flutter. "Make love to me, Joe."

Those words coming from a pregnant woman should have terrified me. Her knees bent while her feet were still in my hands, pulling me closer. I knelt in front of the large pussy opening. "I, um is it okay?"

"It's fine, you can't hurt her." Mrs. Davis reached for my cock.

I almost jumped when my cock head touched the extremely hot flesh. The woman was on fire. I pushed gently and my dick slipped easily inside her wet opening. I moved forward cautiously into the increasing heat. Her body grabbed my flesh and gave me the same wonderful feeling it had last time I entered Mrs. Davis. It felt so good I had to fight the urge to pierce through her as fast as I could. I paused, wondering if I could hit the baby.

"Joe, it's perfectly safe." Mrs. Davis's eyes begged me to fuck her like the needy woman she was.

When my balls were pressed between her ass cheeks, I froze. Her insides massaged my sensitive dick head. I hadn't had an orgasm since Christmas break at Cindy's. My balls went crazy. "Oh, shit, I'm cumming." I yanked my cock out and sprayed weeks’ worth of stored up orgasm all over her giant stomach.

My embarrassment was the only thing that exceeded the volume of cum on Mrs. Davis. "Chris, oh, my god, I'm so sorry. I guess I was nervous, excited."

The cheerful smile from the glowing pregnant woman minimized my humiliation. "You finally called me Chris." She chuckled and added, "You don't have to worry about getting me pregnant anymore."

While my slumping cock oozed sperm, I gripped it tightly around the base and shoved it back inside the woman's body. Her sizzling wet flesh grabbed my youthful cock. It swelled a little each time I slid it in. As it approached full length, I released it and pumped forward. The soft-touch of Chris's ass on my balls made me pause. I couldn't imagine how a baby was going to come out of something that held my cock so tightly. Then I realized one already had. I'm making love to Jasmine's mother.

I watched Mrs. Davis's face while I moved in and out of her body. She lovingly ran her finger along my arms and down my sides. I placed a hand on each side of her belly and went a little faster. A pleased, joyful expression washed over Chris's face. The pressure I felt in my chest made me wonder if I had always loved her this much? Mrs. Davis had become someone to avoid and deceive because of my relationship with Susan, but when she was Chris, staring into my eyes while I was inside her, I felt responsible for making her feel better. Wasn't that love, not wanting someone to be sad and doing anything they needed to make them feel good?

Each time my groin hit between Chris's spread legs, her tits swayed like water balloons. The desire in her eyes pushed me. I fucked faster, taking long, full strokes, slamming into the pregnant woman's pussy. You can't hurt her, I thought. There was a little girl in there, another baby Jasmine, and I loved Mrs. Davis even more.

"Oh, yes, yes, Joe, keep going, don't stop no matter what." The woman's primal voice demanded everything I had.

With my hands behind her knees and her legs pushed up to the sides of her giant belly, I plowed her gushing hole as fast as I could go. Each time my balls slammed into her ass crack, her sticky juices covered them. I had lost all my previous apprehension as I forced my rod through her fiery, wet flesh. Mrs. Davis grabbed the couch, gasped, moaned, and squeezed her tits.

When her eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth gulped for air, I considered stopping, but she told me not to stop, no matter what. I fucked her pussy through several loud powerful climaxes. I leaned forward until my belly was touching hers, kissed her, and humped.

"I'm gonna cum, it's coming." I panted in Chris's ear as my cock freely pumped my seed into her. It felt good to empty myself inside her warm body without fear.

As crazy as the whole scenario was, I felt incredibly peaceful resting on top of the beautiful pregnant woman. "I, shoot, ah, I don't know what to say." I exhaled and looked into Mrs. Davis's piercing blue eyes. I should ask if that's my baby. "I love you." Great, I thought, why don't you make her a promise, too?

"Mmm, Joe, thank you. That's the first time I've felt good . . . well, since the last time you were here. Maybe ever." She paused and kissed my cheek. "Yes."

I smiled affectionately, playing her words in my head. It might have been a huge stretch of reading between the lines, but, "Yes," seemed like an answer to my unasked question. She also said, "You can't get me pregnant—" Was it anymore or again that she said?

The magical glow of this woman gave me the most peace I had felt since I came home from Cindy's house. My eyes stung as I stood in front of the motherly figure. Chris's face shined, and her eyes radiated a love that almost crushed me. I placed my hands on her stomach and dropped to my knees. I kissed the huge baby holder, then laid my head on it, listening. My tears rolled down the tightly stretched skin. Mrs. Davis tenderly ran her fingers through my hair. "Joe, I love you, too."

Chris cupped my face and guided me up to her waiting lips. She kissed my forehead and stroked my head. "I'm sorry I've done this to you."

I looked up in time to see Chris's tears fall to her chest. "It's okay." Shit, was I ever going to learn to shut up until I had something intelligent to say?

"There's no excuse, but I wanted my son back so much. I wanted you to be Jeremy, but I only knew one way to show you my love. Joe, I've never had anybody make love to me. You're special, special to Jasmine, special to me, that makes it special with you, but I shouldn't have."

The confession and sobbing woman made it hard to think. "Jer, Jem, Jeremy, your son?" My tongue failed me to a greater extent than ever before. I let my eyes plead for answers. Jasmine and Jeremy have the same birthday.

"Yes Joe, Jasmine's twin. It almost killed her when we split them up. Her own brother being taken away. My son so far from me. It's not right, but you helped me through this. Your spirit is so wonderful. Your love—Thank you and forgive me, please."

She wrapped me in arms with the strength of a mamma bear. I felt her hot tears dropping on my shoulder. I trembled, holding the crying woman. She needed my love to comfort a mother missing her children. I wanted to, but I was just a boy, a boy holding this woman like I needed my mommy. Mrs. Davis was like a mother to me in some ways. Would there be enough love to go around, or would we vanish into that black void of neediness I had been in without Jasmine and Susan? I held her even tighter hoping Chris didn't know I was crying, too.

After a few minutes, I sat next to Chris. She was holding my hand. "Joe, I thought you knew. Jasmine talks about you so much during counseling, I figured she told you everything. She loves you in a way that she has never known love before. It's been wonderful to see, but it has hurt me so much keeping her there."

Jasmine's pain was painted on her mother's face as she paused to collect herself.

"I lied to you. When I told you about my first love, with Jasmine's father, that was a lie. It was really my father, and he raped me. That was after Jesselyn was born. Her father is Mr. Davis, and her mother is his sister, Jane. We had to pretend he was Jeremy and Jasmine's father, too. In the end, my father went to prison anyway. He wasn't evil, he loved us, but he didn't know how to show it. Maybe he was sick, or cursed or something, but not evil. I know how hard this must be for you to understand, but I want you to know what you're getting into."

I felt a chill creep through my body while Mrs. Davis considered her next words.

"This can never happen again. The girls can never know about this, and we can never do it again." We hugged tenderly like two lovers saying goodbye. I felt sad but knew she was right.

"They're coming home next week."

Joy pushed a tear to my eye. "Both?" I couldn't imagine how I'd deal with having two girlfriends again, but I'd never not want to see one of them for a minute longer than I had to.

"Yes, you wanna come to the airport with me?" Mrs. Davis smiled at the happy tears running down my cheeks.

"They'll be so excited to see you. Susan is still having a hard time, but you can help her through it. Everything about her life has hurt her, but she's getting better. She has a counselor here. We'll all go and fix this mess I made." She hugged me again, and the warm embrace suddenly made me feel more love than I had ever felt. I didn't want to let go of her.

While I watched the pregnant woman pull her pants on, she said, "Susan might need your help with math, again."

Was she poking fun at me? "Chris, I love you. I'm really sorry how things have turned out. I, um." She pressed her finger to my lips and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you, I love you, too, like a son. You're a wonderful young man, and I'm so happy you came into our lives. Everything is going to turn out just fine, you just watch and see. I promise you don't have to worry about anything. Thank you for caring." Mrs. Davis sealed her promise with a sweet kiss that left a lasting tingle on my lips. If my mother ever kissed me like that, I would think she loved me like more than just a son.

The rest of the afternoon, I laid on my bed full of anticipation for Jasmine and Susan's return. Also, filled with the love, hope, fear, and amazement that my time with Mrs. Davis had spawned. She loved me, and she obviously knew how much I loved the girls, and how much they loved me. All that love gave me hope, yet fear lurked at every turn.

Which girl will I end up with? How can I choose, and chance hurting one of them? What will happen with Susan and school? Is she alright after almost taking her own life? Can I ever be with Jasmine again? As much as I feared all my thoughts, none of them undid my excitement for their return.

Susan not being Jasmine's sister was now a pebble at the bottom of Lake Erie compared to the amazing revelation about Jasmine. I knew there was something familiar about Jeremy. Twins. Mrs. Davis pregnant with twins as a teenager by her father, who raped her? The person who should have been Jasmine's grandfather, in prison, was her father. Does she know? As I thought about it, Jasmine's words and attitude about the asshole she called her father, made me believe she knew. I was pretty sure at that point there was nothing left that could surprise me. I also couldn't imagine how the two girls I loved weren't more screwed up. Well, Susan did try and kill herself.

I wanted to regret not asking my question, but the way Mrs. Davis had soothed my concern with her loving touch made me feel at peace with not asking. It could have been one of nature's forces that had drawn me to Chris's stomach, but in my heart, I felt like part of me was inside her. The thought terrified me, yet I still couldn't help imagining Jasmine and me, or even Susan and me caring for their baby sister like she was our own.

"Joseph Micheal." My mother's scream crashed through all my happy, frightful fantasies.

I cautiously opened my bedroom door. My mother using Joseph would concern me like maybe I forgot to do something she told me to do. However, my full first and middle name was more like a bad progress report, or a baseball breaking the windshield of the car. My current life being light-years away from a normal teenager's, left me terrified as I headed toward my mother.

She was waving the phone bill. "One hundred and forty-seven dollars. What in the name of St. Peter were you thinking? Who on earth have you been calling long distance at midnight when you're supposed to be sleeping?"

"One . . . hundred and . . . oh my goodness. Mom, I swear I had no idea it could cost that much. I'll, I um, I can explain. I had to talk to her, you have no idea how much I missed her. It was killing me, Mom, killing, to death, really, I would have died." It would have been comforting to be able to tell my mother about what happened, but I felt too protective. I didn't want my mother to think anything bad about Susan. Really, I could hardly grasp the reality of their lives, there was no way my mother would ever understand.

"How on earth did you find their phone number? You'll be doing a lot of work this summer, without pay."

From my mother's toned-down response, I thought she somehow understood. I wonder if she was ever kept from the love of her life? "At least I didn't call 976-hot-girl, like my friend Billy." My face bubbled with a hilarious joy, but not because of the mood-changing response I dropped, it was in anticipation of my next words. "Mom, they're coming home in four days, four days, I can't wait. It's okay if I go to the airport with Mrs. Davis? I can't wait. I don't think I'll eat or sleep until I see them." My mother's expression helped me realize I needed to shut my mouth and stop acting like my two true loves lost at sea had been found.

"When are we having dinner?" The look I got made me add, "Okay, so maybe I'll eat, but no sleep." I left my mother scratching her head, wondering if I had been taken over by the raging forces of love or hormones.

The four days had seemed like four years, but the thirty-five-minute delay on their flight seemed like a lifetime of me asking, Why is it late? When are they going to get here? How much longer? What time is it?

Mrs. Davis, seeming oblivious to my constant nervous chatter, placed her hand on top of mine as we sat on the bench outside the arrival gates. She squeezed it one time and slipped two fingers in my palm. Her thumb soothed the back of my hand with gentle strokes. I glanced into her eyes and smiled peacefully. I wanted to kiss her like a woman, yet at the same time, I wanted her to comfort me like a mother. My confused expression caused Mrs. Davis to kiss my forehead. After, she looked back at me with what seemed like the same conflict in her eyes.

"You're so sweet . . ." Her voice trailed off.

At the sight of the two gorgeous girls lugging backpacks, I forgot everything I had told myself about being a gentleman and letting the pregnant woman greet her daughters first. I leaped to my feet and sprinted through the crowd. I could see them through the glass window as they backed up behind the hoard of travelers being squeezed through the small exit area.

Susan spotted me, hit Jasmine, and pointed. My heart ripped as Susan raised her arm to wave. The gold hearts lit up her wrist but did nothing to mask the evidence of the hopeless pain she must have felt. I was determined to be strong, but the thought of Susan's blood emptying life from her arm made my knees buckle.

The additional life force of the baby pressed against my back, and loving hands on my shoulders gave me the strength to stay on my feet. The second they cleared the security funnel, I knocked down the flimsy chrome poles holding the dividing ropes as I tried to jump it. Backpacks dropped to the floor, and the girls stepped apart. I held out my arms and I slipped between them like the meat in a love sandwich.

One of my arms circled each of their backs, their arms circled me and each other while they kissed each side of my face. I held my eyes closed as tight as possible to keep my tears inside while I squeezed both girls with every ounce of strength I had.

Mrs. Davis's hand squeezing my shoulder reminded me I was in an airport, not in heaven. I opened my eyes to two teary-eyed faces just inches from my lips. I kissed Susan on the lips and Jasmine's cheek. I squeezed them again. "I missed you so much."

I picked up the toppled poles while Jasmine and Susan greeted Mrs. Davis. The sight of the girls' hands caressing the swollen baby pod, with matching bracelets dangling from their wrists, completed my joy.

Mrs. Davis hugged both girls with undiscriminating motherly love. "Come on, let's get the luggage."

With a hand in each of my hands, we watched the suitcases take their ride on the luggage merry-go-round. Jasmine pointed. "There it is."

I looked at her curiously before running to grab the bag, "Just one?"

Both girls smiled at each other, then at me, and said, "Yes, we can share."