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Subject: {ASSM} NEW from Morgan: Jean and Jim, Part 3 of 9 M/F Rom
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* * *

The following is a work of fiction regarding sexual
relationships.  If you feel that it is illegal, immoral, or
otherwise improper for you to read this, then DON'T READ IT.

* * *

The Callaways:

Jean & Jim -- Part 3 of 9

Copyright 2001 By Morgan.  All Rights Reserved

Preface & Acknowledgments

This book is the third in a series but it's the first one to be
completed.  With the exception of Jim Dawson, all of the major
characters will have appeared in either or both of the two
preceding works.  It is being posted at the insistence of two of
my fans, Heiner and Jeff, both of whom have read it.

Unlike prior books (posted at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Morgan/www), this one is
not divided into chapters.  Rather it's divided by triple
asterisks, but it's an ongoing chronicle.  The divisions are in
the interest of ease of posting and have nothing to do with the
story's structure.

Finally, I would most particularly thank Adrienne for her
invaluable assistance in critiquing this work.  (Another reason
it's being posted now is that if I didn't, her comments would
exceed the length of the book itself.)  All I can say about
Adrienne is that she has a background in intelligence and used it
to good -- if for me, painful -- effect throughout.  I mean... is
it really fair?  I mean just because a woman's body can't work
that way is no reason to change is it?  (Don't you just hate it
when the woman is _always_ right?  She is and I do.)

Any errors remaining -- and I'm certain there are more than a few
-- are strictly my own responsibility.

If you enjoy the story -- or if you don't -- please let me hear
from you at <morg105829@aol.com>

 * * *

In mid-July (of what turned out to be the hottest summer on
record in Chicago), Jean decided it was time to work on my
wardrobe.  (Work?  Start one is a far more accurate statement.) 
She learned that J. Press had a traveling sales team in the area
and hauled me off.  I guess she figured that with stores in New
Haven and Cambridge, they would be tailors appropriate to my
academic background.  It was funny, really.  I might as well have
been a spot on the carpet for all the attention that was paid to
me.  Instead, Jean and the salesman consulted on materials and
the composition of my wardrobe.  I guess it was only through the
grace of God I didn't end up with white tie and tails. 
(Honestly, I think it's only because the salesman neglected to
mention the idea to her.)

Suffice it to say that by the time she was done, it might have
been the largest single sale in the store's very long history. 
But it was done and I have to admit it was pretty painless for
me.

A few days later, I was in the mall by myself.  I really don't
remember, but maybe I was there for a haircut.  At any rate, I
finished up whatever it was and was just walking along when I see
three golden heads in the crowd ahead of me.  (Believe me when I
tell you that golden hair like that _is not_ common!)  Like so
many other days that summer, that day was a scorcher, too.  I
closed the distance while still keeping people between me and
them and used my height to confirm that, as I thought, the three
golden heads belonged to Jean, Sandy and Susan.

Jean and Sandy were sights to see.  Both were wearing short-short
Levi cutoffs along with shot-to-shit chambray work shirts that
had seen their best days years before.  The sleeves had been torn
off at the shoulders and the tails were tied under their breasts.
 With the shorts starting very low on their hips, there was a
great expanse of perfectly tanned skin showing between.  Susan
looked cute as hell wearing similar shorts but with a sleeveless
top with tiny embroidered flowers on it.  Like the others,
though, she had the tails (ends?)  tied under where her tits
would be someday.  She was adorable.

It was apparent that the girls were having a wonderful time
together.  Even from more than 20 feet away, I could hear the
lovely sound of their musical giggling.  Oh!  One more thing. 
Jean had her golden hair back in a pony tail as did Sandy.  This
made her look like a well-developed teenager.  But as I said, the
girls seemed to be having a wonderful time together.

I was still behind them when they reached a newly-opened fine
jewelry store, a branch of Tiffany & Company.  Later I learned
that the store was an experiment.  It was the first unit in the
Tiffany chain that wasn't located in a prime downtown shopping
zone.  In fact, they did have a store at 730 Michigan Boulevard,
too.  The experiment was to determine if a suburban mall -- even
a very upscale one -- could support a store like theirs.  As it
happened, Jean and the girls did their best to assure the store's
success.  After looking at the jewelry in the window with
appropriate oohs and aahs, the three girls went inside.

Fortunately for my spying, Tiffany's was located on an interior
corner so it had window walls on two sides.  I was easily able to
find a vantage point from which I could observe them but they
couldn't see me.

It really must have been funny for the very well-dressed
salesman.  He really didn't know quite what to do.  Here were
three urchins dressed in clothing that appeared to be -- and may
well have been -- Salvation Army rejects, but who seemed to be
very interested in fine jewelry.  The guy was smart.  I guess the
folks downtown had been pounding it into the heads of the new
staff that unlike downtown, in the suburbs it's very dangerous to
judge people by what they're wearing.

He had taken the lesson to heart, and after taking a deep breath,
I could see him -- and reading his lips on this occasion -- hear
him say, "Good afternoon, ladies.  Welcome to Tiffany's.  How may
I help you?"

An exchange with Jean ensued followed by his going off and coming
back with a collection of gold collars.  Jean took one look at
the first batch and shook her head.  Off he went again and came
back with another group.  Again the shake of Jean's head,
although it didn't come quite as fast as the first time. 
Clearly, she had dismissed the first offerings out of hand. 
Again the salesman went away.  This time it took significantly
longer for him to return.  When he did, I noticed another
salesman had taken position where he wasn't involved in the
transaction but was close enough to cover it.  Apparently the
items he had with him had come directly from the store's vault.

This time, using mirrors in the store, I could see Jean's eyes
light up.  Clearly, this was more like it.  She took one collar
and fitted it around Sandy's neck.  It was utterly magnificent,
and Jean's eyes flared.  From the nodding of heads, the man had
made a sale.  Then she found another and fitted it around Susan's
neck.  Jean was disappointed.  Then the salesman spoke.  The
problem was that the collar was too big for Susan's small neck. 
I guess what the salesman said was that the collar could be
shortened with the removed pieces put aside so they could be
reinserted when she grew.  This time, Jean's eyes lit up like a
Christmas tree and she clapped her hands in delight.

As Jean started to reach for her purse to haul out her overworked
charge card, Sandy spoke up.  The salesman turned his attention
to her, and showed her a collar that was the very finest the
store carried.  Taking it, Sandy fitted it around Jean's neck. 
Then she turned to Susan who was absolutely beaming with
happiness.  The girl just rapidly nodded her head up and down. 
Again, reading lips, I could see Sandy telling the salesman,
"We'll take it!"

At that point, Jean moved down the counter with the salesman and
whispered something to him.  He quickly nodded and produced a pad
which Jean used to write something.  The man read it, whispered
to Jean -- I guess he was checking to ensure he was correctly
reading what she had written -- and then smiled.  At that, she
produced an Amex Platinum charge card and he closed out thesale.

But the fun wasn't over quite yet.  While the salesman had been
with Jean, Sandy had pulled a checkbook from her purse.  The man
went off with the two collars for Sandy and Susan, presumably to
be engraved and Susan's to be shortened -- I was surprised, but
evidently they had an engraver and jeweler on the premises -- and
then returned.  In response to her question, he calculated the
full price and she wrote out a check with the salesman's eyes
widening as he watched.  Clearly, this was not what he expected
to see at all.

Fortunately, the salesman was standing where I could see him
clearly.  Since the transaction was so simple, as far as knowing
what he was saying was concerned I might as well have been
standing right in front of him.  After finding a phone number he
called and asked for the bank's Private Banking Division.

After identifying himself, he said, "I have a check here from a
young woman, Sandra Callaway..."  That's as far as he got when
his eyes widened in shock.

"But I haven't told you the amount..."  Greater shock.

Obviously, the bank officer had interrupted him to say that the
check was good.  To the second question, I could almost hear him
or her emphasizing, "It's good!"

Gingerly, the salesman hung up the phone and treated Sandy and
Susan with a level of respect that I'm certain was unique in his
experience dealing with a girl who had scarcely reached her
teens.  This time it was the girls who moved down the counter
with the salesman to get away from Jean.  Again there was a
routine with the paper and a consultation between the sisters,
evidently deciding what exactly they wanted the engraving to say.
 (Later I learned that Tiffany had thrown in the engraving free.
Given the prices of the collars, it was a trivial concession
indeed.)  Finally, the girls agreed  on the wording and again the
salesman went off with the necklace.

The man was smart.  Clearly, Jean and the girls had indicated
they wanted to wait for their purchases.  Moreover, he had just
conclusively established that they represented money with a
capital M.  And since they would be in the store waiting...  This
time, when he returned there was an armed security guard with
him.  Whatever he had with him represented serious money.

This time he spread a large white velvet mat on the counter top
and began to display what he had brought back with him.  It
turned out that each was a set of very fine jewelry, one set with
diamonds, the second with rubies, and the third with sapphires. 
Each set had a necklace, a bracelet and earrings.

At one point Susan turned so I could partially see her face.  Her
eyes were wide with awe.  Sandy took the diamond necklace and
fastened it around Jean's neck, then stepped back.  It was
utterly magnificent.  Then she put on the bracelet and earrings.
The effect was truly remarkable.  There is this utterly
magnificent woman in ratty clothes while hung with diamonds.  But
it fit, somehow.  Then I realized that it was Jean's beauty and
grace.  Regardless of what she might be wearing, she was all
class and it really showed.

The exercise was repeated with the red rubies and blue sapphires.
 The blue of the sapphires turned out to be an exact match to the
blue of her eyes.

Just then another salesman came out from the back with three
jewelry cases: the collars.  I really don't know how their
salesman felt at that moment; I don't know if he was killing
time, practicing, or thought he might really make a sale.  My
best guess is that he was thinking of the future -- Christmas in
about six months -- and trying to cement a relationship with
potentially very lucrative clients.

At any rate, he gave two of the cases to Jean and one to the
girls.  Jean opened a box, checked the engraving, and then held
it around Sandy's neck.  It was perfect.  Instead of fastening
it, though, she gave it to the girl.

Sandy took it with her eyes wide and turned it over.  She read
the engraving and utterly came apart.  "Mommy!" she screamed,
then flung herself at Jean who took her in her arms and held her
tightly.  Then the two exchanged a kiss that left the salesman
agape.  I could feel the power of their kiss from where I was
standing, so I'm certain he sure did.

The inscription read, "To my darling daughter Sandra, from her
mother with all the love I have to give."

The scene repeated with Susan whose collar read the same as
Sandy's with the name changed.

Then the two girls gave Jean her collar.  She turned it over,
read the engraving, and absolutely came apart.  She began to bawl
like a baby.  Instantly, the two girls were in her arms hugging
and kissing her and crying, too.  Her engraving read, "To Mommy,
our true mother, from Sandy and Susan with our eternal love and
devotion."  (Incidentally, the engraver had done a truly
remarkable job getting all the words on flexible gold links.  It
only worked because the links were set so tightly together and
were so wide.)

Finally it was over.  All three, now wearing their new collars,
almost floated out of the store in their happiness.  The salesman
just watched them leave with a warm smile on his face.  For him
it had already been a very successful day.

Fortunately for me, the girls just crossed the corridor to the
food court.  Since there were significant lines at all of the
counters, I figured they would be there awhile.  At that point I
entered the store where the salesman was in the process of
putting the jewel sets away.

"Hello," I greeted him.  "I saw my wife and daughters in here
with you a few moments ago..."

Instantly, he stopped what he was doing, extended his hand and
introduced himself as Mr. Payne.  "Sir, you are the luckiest man
in the whole world!"

"Oh?"

"Never have I seen such beauty in only three women!  And your
daughters!  They're the image of your wife and will soon be her
twins."  He shook his head and said, "Absolutely gorgeous!  And
so nice, too."

"Mr. Payne, which of these collections do you think would look
best on my wife?"

Payne's eyes widened.  Things were getting better and better and
already he had made a very healthy commission.  Then he just
shook his head.  "Sir, with your wife's incredible beauty I can't
answer that.  Her skin and complexion are utterly flawless.  Even
wearing rags, she's a queen."  Then he just shook his head and
continued, "It's a shame, really.  These are the finest pieces we
carry -- and I don't mean just in this store -- but they pale to
insignificance against her beauty..."

"That makes it simple, then," I interrupted.  "I'll take them
all.  And could we make this fast?  I'm in a bit of a rush."

Payne was in a state of shock.  Moreover, every piece, although
displayed as part of a set, was priced separately.  He started to
take the prices off the pieces when I interrupted him again. 
"I'll tell you what.  The total price is probably below $200,000,
isn't it?"

The man was stunned.  All he could do was nod.

"Fine!"  Taking my Amex Platinum card out I continued, "Why don't
you just call American Express and get a charge authorization for
$200,000.  I'll sign a blank slip for you and you can calculate
the exact amount later.  How's that?"

Again he just nodded.  Taking my card in his now-shaking hand he
ran it through an imprinter and placed his call.  For a charge of
this size, the automated authorization process wasn't going to
make it.  He read off the number to the agent and then said,
"Yes, Mr. Dawson is here with me now.  He signed the charge in my
presence and the signatures match."  Again his eyes widened when
he received an instant authorization number which he carefully
wrote in on the form and repeated back to the operator.

"Mr. Payne," I said, "would you mind just putting these things in
a bag?  I'm really in a rush."

At that he motioned to his colleague and the two men hurried to
put the pieces back their into individual boxes.  The guard,
meanwhile, went to the rear of the store and returned with a
shopping bag.  It was funny, I guess.  You don't often leave a
top jewelry store with fine jewelry in such quantity that a
shopping bag is needed.  In just a few minutes I was out of there
leaving Mr. Payne standing there in stunned amazement.

Fortunately for me the timing worked.  I had time to go out to
the car, put the jewelry in the trunk and return to the mall
while the girls were still in the food court.  They had just
finished and were leaving when I came up.

Jean's eyes widened and then she grinned when she
saw me.  Hurling herself into my arms, she kissed me.  Again, I
think she had intended it to be quick and friendly, but we're
really not too good at that kind of kiss.  I held her tightly,
melted my lips to hers, and again enjoyed the electricity and the
bells.

When we separated, with her eyes dancing she asked, "Hey, mister.
 Want to see a really great pair of tits?"  She had her hand on
the knot she had made to tie her shirttails together under her
breasts.  I realized at that instant Jean was fully prepared to
do just that.

"They'll arrest you for Indecent Exposure!" I protested.

"And it wouldn't be the first time," she replied dryly.  Then she
brightened and said, "How about a suck and a fuck?  Special
daytime price too: only twenty bucks."

"That would be Lewd and Lascivious Conduct."

"And it wouldn't be the first time for that, either."

I shook my head.  What can you do with a woman like this?  "How
about a movie, instead?  There's a Walt Disney cartoon feature
around the corner I think Susie would like."  My face fell a bit
as I added, "I don't know about Sandy, though..."

"Sweetie, would you like the hot scoop?" Jean interrupted.  "I
only learned today that neither girl has ever seen a movie in a
real theater.  Never!  I'm sure she would love it."

Both girls did.  There were few people in the theater so we found
seats exactly where we wanted them.  Jean was sitting on my right
with Susie next to her.  Sandy was next to me.  It was utterly
fascinating to see the look of awe on Sandy's face.  The theater
had been newly remodeled with the latest and greatest in sound
systems and the film made good use of them.  Despite having an
awesome home theater at home, it couldn't compare in her eyes to
the big screen.

As the movie progressed, Sandy swung her legs left moving her
body so her back was to my shoulder.  Looking up at me with wide
eyes she asked, "Dad...  Would... Would you mind awfully...
putting your hand on my little tit?"

I'm certain my eyes widened when she said it.

Turning toward Jean, I saw that she had both arms around Susie
who was leaning against her breast and sighing.  To her I
whispered what Sandy had asked.

"Darling," she replied, "Sandy loves you so much.  Just do it."

So I did.

She untied her shirttails and I spent the rest of the movie with
my left hand over her left breast.  Periodically, she would move
her upper body causing her nipple to move under my hand. 
Invariably, it provoked a shiver and a sigh.

After the film, we decided to make an evening of it and go out to
dinner.  Because of the girls' attire, though, we were
substantially restricted in our restaurant choices.  We settled
on Mama Louisa's, an Italian restaurant that enjoyed an excellent
reputation for its food and was quite popular in the area.

Mama Louisa's appeared to be one of those places that over time
had grown like Topsy.  There was room after room after room, all
connected, but with the effect of small-scale dining in what, I'm
sure, is a very large restaurant.  At any rate, we were seated at
a table in the corner in the same room as the cashier who, I
subsequently learned, was Mama Louisa herself.

The dinner was utterly delightful.  The girls consulted with Jean
before they ordered, but were thrilled to be able to order for
themselves.  I ordered a bottle of Brolio Chianti Riserva which
proved to be excellent.  Brolio is the family-operated winery
that advertises, "We've been making Chianti since the turn of the
century; the tenth century."  And guess what?  After 1,000 years,
they're really starting to get the hang of it.

The waiter was utterly captivated by Jean and the girls.  On
Jean's request, he produced two additional wine glasses and
ignored her action as she poured a small amount for Susan and a
bit more for Sandy.  Susie was in seventh heaven and would have
been wriggling in delight on her chair except for the fact that
she so badly wanted Jean to be proud of her behavior.

When we finished dinner, Jean and the girls moved toward the door
while I went to pay the check.

I gave the cashier my plastic, but instead of instantly running
it through her machine she said, "Sir, you have the most
beautiful family I have ever seen.  And the very best-behaved,
too."  Then she introduced herself as the owner, Louisa.

"Would it be possible for me to meet your lovely wife, too?" she
asked diffidently.

Jean had been watching so she came over immediately when I
motioned, followed by the girls.

"Mrs. Dawson, you are the most beautiful woman ever to set foot
in my establishment.  Thank you so much for coming."  Turning
toward the girls she added, "And these young ladies are the
best-behaved I can ever recall seeing.  They are a real credit to
you, their mother."

With that both girls beamed with pleasure.  Suddenly I realized
it was one of the first genuinely happy smiles I had ever seen on
Sandy's face.

Then turning back to Jean, Louisa looked at her gold collar. 
"That collar is exquisite," she exclaimed.  "May I see it?"

Jean removed it and placed it on the counter.  When the woman
lifted it her eyes widened.  Turning it over, she saw on the
clasp, 18K.  "My God!" she breathed.  "This is real!"  Then
seeing the engraving, she straightened out the collar so she
could read it: "To Mommy, our true mother, from Sandy and Susan
with our eternal love and devotion."

Turning to me Louisa said, "This is the nicest thing a father
could possibly do for his daughters."

"Thank you," I replied, "but it was all the girls.  They did it
entirely by themselves, most particularly including the
inscription.  I wasn't anywhere close."

"But... But... But..." the woman stammered, "this costs a
fortune!  How could they possibly have bought it?"

"Both girls have money of their own that they used."

The woman looked utterly stunned.  Moving as if in slow motion,
she returned Jean's collar and then tried to pull herself
together.  Finally she said, "I'm stunned.  And I'm sure you
could see that for yourself."  She paused and just shook her
head.  "I thought you were an utterly marvelous family, but now I
find you're loaded, too."

Slowly she just shook her head, looking utterly bewildered. 
"Families like that come in here all the time.  The staff hates
them.  Typically, they're classic rich bitches...  Selfish,
self-centered, boorish...  You know the drill."  Again she paused
but then continued, "I'm reasonably sure you people could buy
them all with your petty cash, but you're so totally different.

"My people say there couldn't be a finer group to wait on than
you four... so incredibly thoughtful and polite.

"And you girls!  When I said you were well-behaved, you just
glowed, and now I understand why.  It was because by being so
good, you were reflecting your mother's training and making her
feel proud."  Turning to Jean she said, "You must be so proud of
your daughters.  And they're so beautiful, too.  Exactly like
you."

Mama Louisa had recovered from her shock by this time and her
natural sense of humor returned.  "There's just one thing...  Are
you really sure that collar goes with the rest of your... outfit?
 I mean...  It's value is a rather large multiple of the value of
the rest of your attire..."

"Oh, don't be so sure," Jean replied with her eyes twinkling. 
"I'll bet you didn't include the antique value of these things. 
For example, I'm almost certain my shorts were made before I was
born."

Louisa roared with laughter.  "My God!  And she has an incredible
sense of humor, too."  To me she said, "Mr. Dawson, you have to
be the luckiest man in the world to have a wife as utterly
perfect as yours is."

Glancing at Jean I saw a strange look in her eyes that I really
couldn't identify.

That night our lovemaking was the best it had ever been.

 * * *

A few days later it was time for the great experiment.  Jean and
I were venturing out together in public for the very first time
alone.  My new clothes had been delivered and Jean picked out a
blazer, a pair of gray slacks, and so forth, for me to wear.

After disappearing with the girls for a while, she appeared and
just stood there.  She was wearing a white sleeveless dress that
fit her perfect form.  Beyond that, though, I had never seen her
look so exquisitely beautiful.  Then I remembered Stephanie's
transformation and Andy's comment that Jean was an artist with
makeup.

I held out my arms and she rushed to me.  "You are utterly
gorgeous!" I whispered in her ear.

"Thank you, kind sir."

"But there's something missing..." I added.

I left the room and returned with the set of sapphire jewelry. 
"Why don't you put these on?" I asked in my blandest tone of
voice.

Seeing the velvet Tiffany's boxes, Jean's eyes widened.  Opening
the largest, she saw the necklace, recognized it and gasped, "But
Jim...!  Where...?  What...?"

"They're beautiful things for a beautiful woman," I said softly.
"I hope you like them."

"Sandy-Susan!" Jean screamed.

The girls came running.  Seeing the necklace, they gasped.

"From Dad?" Susan asked.

Jean could only nod her head.  Only then did I realize that her
eyes were filled with tears.

Meanwhile, Sandy had taken the necklace from its box and fastened
it around Jean's neck.  She then repeated with the earrings and
bracelet and stepped back so Jean could see herself in the
mirror.  "They're utterly gorgeous, Mom!" the girl softly
exclaimed.

Jean had immediately recognized the jewels.  Turning to me she
raised an eyebrow accusingly and said, "You spied on us, didn't
you?  You must have seen me trying these on at Tiffany's!"

Trying my best to look innocent, I just shrugged.

"Oh, darling!" she exclaimed.  "I adore them... and adore you,
too!"  With that she again melted her lips to mine in a
wonderfully warm and loving kiss.

 * * *

We had reservations at a fine restaurant in Chicago.  As we were
being ushered to our table I could actually hear the gasps from
the other patrons as they got a look at Jean.  For her part, she
appeared to be utterly oblivious as she had her hand very lightly
on my elbow.  For my part, I felt like a million bucks.  Without
a doubt, I was the envy of every guy in the place.

Drinks were served and we just chatted.  As we did I realized
again how wide-ranging Jean's knowledge and interests really
were.  Moreover, she continued following my very erratic thought
patterns as if they were the most logical things in the world.

Then she excused herself to go to the ladies room.  As she passed
the bar, a man left his stool, grabbed her arm and growled,
"You're coming with me!"

"I am not!" Jean exclaimed.  "Now get your hand off me!"

Instead of letting go, the man started to pull her toward the
door.  For my part, I saw the flurry and just sat there like a
bump on a log, utterly stunned.

But not Jean.  Some restaurant staffers had seen what was going
on and were moving to Jean's aid.  It turned out not to be
necessary.  Turning her body slightly, she stamped down on the
man's foot hard with the two-inch heel of her shoe.  This stopped
him, and she turned back, lifted her skirt to have free use of
her legs and slammed her knee as hard as she could into his
balls.  The excruciating pain caused him to double over.  When he
did, Jean put her hands together and clobbered him on the back of
his neck with her doubled fist.  He just crumpled to the floor.

At this point there was near pandemonium in the restaurant, but
Jean just continued on her way to the ladies room leaving it to
the staff to deal with the man on the floor.  A few minutes later
two police officers appeared, followed shortly by a couple of
EMTs with a stretcher.  They loaded the man onto it and wheeled
it out; he was still unconscious.

On her return, Jean received a standing ovation from the other
patrons.  Her only acknowledgment was to blush slightly, but with
her deep tan it hardly showed.  The manager came rushing over to
apologize on behalf of the establishment and to inquire if Jean
was all right.  She assured him that she was.  We were told by
the manager that, of course, no bill would be presented.

Calm was restored finally and we continued with our meal.  When I
raised the subject of the attack when she first returned, she
made it very clear she didn't want to talk about it so we didn't.
 I don't know what we did talk about; it might have been the
Bear's prospects for the upcoming NFL season.  The first round of
exhibition -- Excuse me.  Preseason -- games was about to begin.
At any rate, the meal was delightful and I was having a wonderful
time.

Coffee had just been served along with snifters of very fine
cognac when a burly middle-aged man came up to our table. 
"Excuse me, folks.  I'm Lieutenant Richards, Chicago P.D.  May I
join you for a few minutes?"

Jean's eyes flared for an instant but her face was impassive as
she replied, "Of course you may.  Please have a seat.  Could we
get you something?"

Richards accepted her offer and ordered coffee.

"I assume this is regarding that man," Jean said softly.  "How is
he, by the way?"

"He's dead."

"My God!" Jean gasped.  "I didn't mean..."

"It wasn't you at all," Richards interrupted.  "It was heart
failure.  Although they haven't performed an autopsy yet, the
best guess is it was terminal syphilis.  That might also explain
his behavior; assaulting you in a place like this is the far side
of insanity, and that's likely where he was, too."

"I'm so sorry!" Jean said softly.

She jerked up in her chair when Richards retorted emphatically,
"I'm not."

"What?" she exclaimed.  "Why not?"

"Because that SOB was a serial rapist, a murderer, and a one-man
crime wave.  Our best guess is that he was responsible for at
least a dozen rapes and at least two resulting deaths.  Twice we
thought we had him, but both times the victim backed out and
refused to testify.  We're almost certain that he had threatened
them with death if they did."

Then to Jean he said, "I introduced myself, but I don't even know
your name.  And I guess I really ought to have it for myreport."

"I'm Jean Peters and this is Jim Dawson."

Richards had been studying Jean carefully while they were talking
but I had put it down to his preoccupation with her beauty.  But
there was a lot more than that.  "Miss Peters, I feel I know you
from somewhere.  But I can't quite place..."

"You ought to, Lieutenant," Jean said with her voice flat and her
face impassive.  "You busted me three times for common
prostitution."

At that instant, Richard's eyes flared in recognition.  "My God!
Of course..."  He paused and looked Jean over carefully as he
pulled things out from his memory.  "But you were a lot heavier
then, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"It's coming back to me now.  You were the girl no one could
figure out.  Your weight, for example.  While most people have to
work to take it off, our people used to say that you were
constantly working to put it on.  But why?"

"Because a slut should look like a slob if she's acting like one.
 I was and I did."

What he said next came as a surprise to both of us.  "A slut? 
You?  Never!" he said with a shake of his head.  "You were picked
up with whores and sluts but you never were one.  We could never
figure you out.  You had to be making money, yet you would often
serve your full time rather than pay to get out.  And other girls
with no money..."

Suddenly his eyes flared as he connected the dots.  "My God!  Of
course!  You gave them your money to get them out while you
served your time."  He leaned back in his chair and shook his
head with a wry grin on his face.  "We thought we were so damned
good.  We actually got some of the girls off the street.  But it
wasn't us, it was you, wasn't it?

"How could we have been so dumb and so blind?  Those wonderful
social workers...  Useless.  But you?  You could really talk to
those girls.  You knew what it was like, first-hand.  So when you
talked to them and showed them a way out..."  He looked deep into
Jean's eyes and asked, "But why?"

Jean just shook her head slightly, but I replied, "Because she
has to, Lieutenant.  It's just the way she is.  Jean Peters has a
need to help people in any way she possibly can and regardless of
the cost to herself."

"When are you two getting married?" Richards asked, changing the
subject dramatically.

"We're not!" Jean declared emphatically.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm aslut and a whore is why not," she replied.  "Isn't
that obvious?"

"No, it's not," he replied, "because you're neither."

_"What?"_ Jean cried.  "Richards, you're really losing it.  You
know damned well I've got a rap sheet a mile long.  What's wrong
with you?"

"I'm not talking about what you did," he said.  "I'm talking
about who you are.  And you know what?  Sitting here with you
tonight I see you the way you always were: a queen; a real class
act.  Just look at the way you hold that brandy snifter.  It's as
if you've done nothing for years but practice, and this might be
the first time you've ever had one in your hands."

"It's not," she sniffed.  "Besides, Jim is smart and very
well-educated.  I'm an ignorant slut."

"Who can talk with anyone about any subject and in depth," I
interjected.  "Lieutenant, how dumb can she be if she can do four
years of college work in only a few months from a standing start?
 She did, and graduated with highest honors, too."

"How did you know that?" Jean asked accusingly.  "Besides... 
It's just a glorified community college, anyway."

"Lieutenant Richards," I asked, "do you think the University of
Illinois at Chicago is a glorified community college?"

"You're not kidding, are you?" he replied.  "She really did
that?"

I just nodded.

"Miss Peters, there's something you might like to know.  Those
girls you helped -- the help you won't even admit you gave --
have really worked out.  Every one is off the street and has been
ever since you helped them.  All of them got some education and
got good jobs.  Two of them are married already, and one of them
has a baby."  He paused a moment and added slyly, "She named the
little girl Jean after you."

"Was that Crystal?" Jean exclaimed.

Richards just nodded.

"I'm so happy for her!" Jean exclaimed.  "I was certain that with
a little help she could..."  She stopped suddenly as she realized
what she had just admitted.

"Back to my earlier question," Richards said with a grin, "when
are you two getting married?"

"No!" Jean exclaimed, just glaring at him.

"Mr. Dawson, you could not possibly do better than Miss Peters. 
She has absolutely everything a man could ever want in a wife. 
And I'll bet she'll be a wonderful mother, too."

"She already is, Lieutenant," I replied.  Then I told him about
Susan and Sandy and how she had nursed Susie with her blood. 
"Believe me when I tell you that, to those girls, Jean is their
mother -- their real mother -- and they love her dearly.  So as
far as being a mother is concerned, the appropriate tense is
present, not future.  But your assessment is certainlyaccurate."

"Thank you," Richards replied.  Then to Jean he said,
"Incidentally, with respect to the late unlamented, you did leave
him with a souvenir or two..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah.  There are a couple of broken bones in his foot and his
balls were smashed."  Then he reached out and took one of Jean's
hands in his.  He just looked at it carefully and turned it over.
 Then he surprised both of us.  He reached up and gently squeezed
her upper arm.

"My God!  You're all muscle, aren't you?"

Jean started to protest but I interrupted, "You got that right,
Lieutenant.  She works out at least an hour a day, every day." 
Then I told him the weight loading she used and he whistled
softly.

"And you know judo, too, don't you?" he asked her with his eyes
boring into hers.

"A little," she conceded.

"You could easily have put that clown away, couldn't you?"

Again Jean just shrugged.  Then she admitted, "When you're on the
street, it's not the safest place in the world..."

"But if you're already selling it...?"

"Jack--"

"How did you know my name?" Richards interrupted.

"I make it a point to learn the names of all my arresting
officers," she replied with a wry grin.

Then she continued, "Jack, do you know what the rape of a
prostitute is?"

"Tell me."

"That's when she goes into her bank to make a cash deposit and
learns that a $50-bill she's depositing is counterfeit.  That's
rape."

Jean giggled and Richards laughed loudly.  "Miss Peters..."

"Could we can the 'Miss Peters' shit please, Jack?  You know what
I am.  We both do."

"Yes, I do know what you are, Miss Peters.  You are a brilliant,
beautiful, classy woman who is finally where she was always
destined to be.  You're on the arm of a very fine guy...  Are
those jewels a gift from him, by the way?  My bet is they are."

"He gave them to me tonight," she replied softly.  "I can't tell
you how thrilled I was to get them.  And the girls went
absolutely wild, too."

"I've worked Robbery, too," Richards continued, "and learned
something about jewelry in the process.  Those pieces are all
real and are probably in the $50,000 range.  So what else do we
know?  You're on the arm of a very good looking guy who's loaded
and who loves you very much.  Now, Miss Peters, what more could
you possibly want in a husband?"

"Nothing," she replied in a dead tone of voice.  "The problem
isn't Jim, it's me."  Her eyes blazed as she added, "And you know
it all, and in detail!  What more do I have to say?  How many
more times do I have to advertise to the world that I'm a whore
and a slut?"

Richards rose to go.  "Miss Peters, I pray you learn the truth
about yourself before you wreck a whole bunch of lives."

"Bunch of lives?" Jean asked, obviously startled by his
statement.  "What's that mean?"

"That means a bunch," Richards replied.  "Yours, Mr. Dawson's,
and those two girls who love you so much."

Jean just sat there stunned as Richards went toward the door.  My
God! I thought.  He just might have reached her.

 * * *

It was shortly after midnight when we returned home.  Jean had
been quiet on the ride back and I left it that way hoping she
would be pondering Richard's parting words.  The house was dark
when we came in.

"Just look!" Jean exclaimed, looking around the kitchen.

"At what?" I replied, baffled as usual.

"It's perfect!  It's spotless."  Then she led the way into our
apartment.  "They didn't!" she exclaimed.

"Didn't what?" I responded, demonstrating my great acuity and
intelligence.

"The girls!" she exclaimed.  "They must have spent the whole
night cleaning.  The place just shines."  Looking down she added,
"My lord!  They even washed and waxed the floor!"  Looking up at
me she said, "Oh, Jim!  They're such loves.  But why did they do
it, do you suppose?"

"To show their mother in a very small way how much they love her
and how important she is to them."

Jean appeared startled at my response.  I just let it sink in.

She led the way into the bedroom, opening the door with care to
avoid awakening the girls.  As it cracked open, light came from
the room indicating a light was on even though there was no
sound.

"Jim!  Just look!" she whispered.

There were the two girls in bed.  Susie's head was resting on
Sandy's shoulder while Sandy's right arm was around Susie while
she held a book in both hands.

"Darling, they're so utterly beautiful.  And so sweet!  Sandy was
reading Susie a story and they both fell asleep. They're
adorable!"

Even though Jean was being very quiet, it was apparent that Sandy
had tuned her ear to listen for us returning home.  "How was it?"
she asked.  "Did you have a good time?"

At her first words, Susie's eyes popped open, too, and she
stretched.  It was then I realized that the girls were like Jean
in another way: They awakened instantly.  There was never any
intermediate fuzziness or fumbling around.

"Your mother learned what a perfect wife and mother she is," I
replied, "so I guess it was a great evening."

"Perfect?" Jean interjected disdainfully.  "Not hardly!"

"Yes, perfect!" Sandy insisted.  "And it's about time you started
to get that message."

Turning to me she said, "Susie and I were talking about how lucky
we are."  To Jean she asked, "Did you like the kitchen, Mommy?"

"Oh, sweetie!" Jean exclaimed.  "I was overwhelmed!  Here your
father and I are out dining up a storm and what are our daughters
doing?  Cleaning, scrubbing, waxing...  The place is immaculate.
I just can't thank you enough...  But I'm really embarrassed. 
Why did you do it, though?"

The girls utterly glowed with happiness at their mother'spraise.

"We did it, Mommy," Susie replied, "because there are so few
things we can do for you.  You do everything for us... like these
collars, for instance."  She paused and shook her head.  "I'm not
saying this right.  Mommy, it's not the gold or the value -- of
course this will be my most treasured jewelry forever and ever --
it's what you said.  And it would have had the same meaning if
you'd engraved a flattened tin can.  It says you love us with all
your heart...  And Mommy, in you that's an awful lot of love!"

"But what did you mean by being lucky?" I asked referring back to
Sandy's original comment.

By now the girls were out from under the covers and were kneeling
side by side at the end of the bed with their backs up straight
and their weight back on their heels.

"We compared notes," Sandy replied, "and we're the only kids we
know who have real parents..."

_"What?"_ Jean exclaimed.  "What does that mean?  Surely you're
not saying that the other parents aren't married, are you?"

"Of course not!  I guess it started with that 'displaced
homemaker' bullshit from the 1970s...  Oops!"

The girl blushed as Jean raised an eyebrow and glared at her.

"I apologize for my language, Mother.  It isn't ladylike, and I
know it."  She glared back at Jean then and added, "But the words
are true, nonetheless."

Jean just smiled and slowly shook her head.

"What I mean is that we have real honest-to-God parents.  You
know everything we do; the other parents sure don't.  The
father's totally wrapped up in his work, and if he's not doing
that, he's at the country club.  The mother either has a
full-time job or else she's full-time 'doing good'.  You know,
all those alphabet-soup agencies designed to help somebody with
something... preferably backed with federal dollars.

"The parents are never home.  Look at those Columbine killings:
Both the killers came from intact families with both parents in
the home.  At least they lived in the same house.  But none of
the four had the first foggy clue what their boys were doing. 
They never even bothered to go into their rooms.  It would have
imposed on their privacy or some such bull... nonsense."

This time Jean was unable to control a giggle and while she shook
her head in feigned exasperation, her eyes were dancing with
glee.  She looked so damned cute!

"But you two...  You know everything about us and really care
about us."

At that Sandy twisted around and picked up the book she had
fallen asleep reading.  She took out a bookmark and handed it to
me.

"This is lovely, Sandy," I commented.  It was a lovely cloth
bookmark that had been stitched together with a couple of pieces
of fabric with lace sandwiched between.  Then tiny animals had
been embroidered down the length of it.  "Did you make it
yourself?"

"Of course not, Dad.  Mommy did.  The last time I put this book
down I took a piece of scrap paper to mark my place.  When I
picked it up again, this marked the place.  Why did she do it? 
She never mentioned it, either.  It was just there.  She did it
because she thought I would like it.  It was a chance to show me
that she loves me...  She's just so incredibly neat..."  At that
the girl started to dissolve in tears.

Instantly Jean was on the bed beside her just holding her tight.
Sandy quickly regained control and Jean asked, "Why the tears,
sweetie?  A dumb little bookmark certainly isn't anything to cry
about."

"Mommy, I love you so darned much it hurts sometimes."

To me she said, "But Dad, there's so much more.  There's one
thing about Mom: she teases us constantly and unmercifully.  But
it's always fun teasing..."

"What's fun teasing?" I interrupted.

"It's any teasing that isn't hurtful," she replied.  "For
example, Mom never teases us about anything we're uncertain about
or upset about.  Never!  Invariably, it will be something that
makes us giggle...

"Dad, since you bought those jewels Mommy's wearing, you must
have followed us, at least for a little bit.  What did you see
and hear?"

"I saw three golden heads of hair.  It's hair of a color that's
seldom ever seen, and three heads together could only be the
three of you.  And before I could get a good look, I heard the
most lovely musical giggles... from all of you.  So..."

"That's exactly what I mean," Sandy continued.  "Everyone was
teasing everyone else.  It was just so neat.  And we were having
such fun, too.

"Do you know what hurtful teasing is?" she asked.

"I don't really know, but I can guess."

"I'll give you an illustration," Sandy said, "and it involves
hurtfully teasing Mommy.  She was working on menus -- things to
serve to you.  She asked us if we thought you would like this or
that.  Well, we really gave her a hard time.  We were driving her
absolutely nuts.  Then we realized that where your likes and
dislikes are concerned, Mommy is never very confident.  So what
were we doing?  Just adding to her uncertainty.  And it was a
very mean thing for us to do.

"By the way, Dad, what do you think of Mom's cooking?"

"Utterly spectacular, is what I think."

Both girls nodded at my comment, and Susie continued, "Dad,
there's one thing...  Please... Please, never ever tease Mom
about something you would like.  If you told her you wanted her
tit for breakfast, she would cut it off in the blink of an eye. 
And you know what her only concern would be?"

I was utterly stunned.  All I could do was to slowly shake my
head.

"Her concern would be whether she could retain consciousness long
enough to prepare it perfectly for you.  She would be standing
there sauteing a tit while she's bleeding to death."

"My God!" I whispered.

"Mom's love for you is beyond understanding," Sandy said.  "But
you know what?  In this family, Dad, you provide the power and
Mom controls the rudder.  She steers the ship.  It's just so
utterly great.  And the time she spends with us..."

She grinned and continued, "When I go out on a date -- if that
ever happens -- you can bet your last dime that Mom will know
absolutely everything there is to know about the guy.

"And you know something else?  She'll counsel with me -- and I
mean _with_ me; no lectures -- on kissing, letting him feel me up
and all that good stuff.  Dad, she's perfect."

"Hah!" Jean said laughing derisively.  "Perfect...  Sure.  A
perfect slut."

"No," Susie said softly, "a perfect woman, a perfect mother...
and a perfect wife!"  Then to me she said, "Dad, take off Mom's
dress, please."

I turned and used my new-found skill: undressing a woman.  I
unhooked the back and slipped the zipper down.  But with Jean in
my arms, I just couldn't resist.  I melted my lips to hers while
I squeezed her buns hard with both hands.

My lips muffled her moan as she ground her pelvis into mine. 
What a woman!

I stepped back, and she stepped out of her dress.  Susie was
standing there to take it and carefully hang it up.  These girls
are just too damned much.

I stepped back to get a good look.  Now Jean was standing there
wearing her jewels, a luscious white lace bikini and her white
pumps.  Utterly gorgeous.

Jean moved to slide her bikini off but Sandy stopped her. 
"Don't, Mom!  Keep your bikini on."

"What for?"

"Susie and I love to watch it get soaking wet.  And when you're
this close to Dad, it always does," she said with a lovely
giggle.

Jean took her hands away from her bikini while at the same time
sticking out the tip of her lovely pink tongue.  Obviously, that
was an example of the fun teasing we had been talking about.

Then I had an idea.  "Girls, stand beside your mother, please."

The two jumped up and stood flanking their mother.  I stepped
back and softly whistled.  They were as identical -- except for
their ages -- as they possibly could be.

"Sandy, grip your mother's right hand with yours like you're
shaking hands."  The girl looked puzzled but did as I asked.

I took the joined hands in mine and turned them over.  It looked
like a person shaking hands with herself.  They were absolutely
identical.  Looking down, while I couldn't be sure -- Sandy's
feet were bare while Jean was still wearing her pumps -- it
appeared that their feet were the same, too.

"Put on sthe shoes your mother's wearing," I said.

All three looked at me strangely, but I think I was seeing a hint
of fear in Jean's eyes.  But she kicked off her shoes and Sandy
slipped them on.  As I expected, they fit perfectly.  And for her
part, Sandy looked delighted.  Wearing the heels and with her
mother now barefoot, Sandy was taller.

It had all come together... finally.

"Where were you raised, Jean?" I asked softly.  "Where were you
when you were 12 years old?"

Her face crumpled and tears began to stream from her eyes.  "I
don't know," she said brokenly.  Then she tried to look at me
through her tears and added, "The earliest thing I remember was
being in an institution when I was 14.  There's nothing before
that."

Now she really began to cry, so I took her in my arms and just
held her tightly.  It seemed to be the right thing to do.  She
cried on my shoulder, but then regained control.

Easing away just enough to be able to look at her I said, "You're
probably their older sister, aren't you?"

"I think so," she murmured.

"Do you have all the same powers they do?" I asked.

"Not quite," she replied with a quirky little grin.  "I think I
must have been a prototype; they're production units."

The girls giggled at Jean's response.  Looking at them, they
appeared to be surprised but not very much.

"My hearing doesn't have the range theirs does," she continued,
"and I don't have the automatic conversation tracking function,
either."  Then she grinned with real humor this time and said,
"Why in hell didn't they update all of my software?  All they did
was update the dumb hair-control thing."  Now that the original
surprise and dismay were behind and with her eyes dancing she
added, "And I don't even have that recording/indexing/play-back
function, either.  Just the dumb hair."

Looking at me she asked softly, "Jim, how did you know?"

"Sweetie, how could I _not_ know?  The three of you are as alike
as peas in a pod.  And besides," I added with a smirk, "you all
have that unique charity gene..."

"The _what?"_ the three exclaimed in unison.

"The charity gene," I repeated, pretending that its existence and
definition should be obvious to anyone.  But then I stopped
teasing.  "Darling, all three of you have a genetic need to help
people.  Take yourself: You spent time in jail because you gave
away all your money so other girls could be released.  And not
just once!  Six times."  I then explained to the girls what their
mother had done.

"Is that all?  Hell, no.  You insisted that Susie bite off your
nipple so you could nurse her with your blood.  You could have
been maimed for life and you knew it, but that didn't cause you
even to hesitate."

Turning to the girls I continued, "You, Sandy, branded yourself
for life and submitted to abhorrent acts to try to spare your
baby sister.  And you, Susie, branded yourself, too, to try to
reduce your sister's suffering."

Then I started to cry.  "What have I done to be able to associate
with three women as wonderful as you three?"

This time Jean took me in her arms, and melted her lips to mine
in a warm and loving kiss.  When she eased away she said softly,
"I love you, James Dawson.  I love you with all my heart."

"Will you marry me, Jean?  I love you more than life itself!"

Good heavens!  How did those words ever come out?  But they were
absolutely true, I realized, after I had spoken them.

"I can't!" she wailed, then really started to bawl.  But at the
same time, she managed to gasp out between sobs, "We've been all
over that..."

When she finally regained control she added, "Besides, how could
you possibly know?  You've never even dated another woman!  And
it's my job to see that you do."

"She's right, Dad," Sandy interjected, taking me by surprise. 
"You really do need to get out more."

"They're right," Susie chimed in.

Jean still had her arms around my neck and looked utterly
beautiful in spite of (because of?) her tears.  "Fuck me, Jim!"
she said softly.  "Damn it!  Fuck my ass off!"

"No," I said quietly.

Jean was utterly stunned.  "What did you say?"

"I said no."

For the lovely girl, that was the last straw.  She just dissolved
in tears.

Holding her in my arms I said softly in her ear, "I'll make love
to you, though.  In fact, I really need to make love to you,
Jean."

"But..." Jean protested.

Now the girls' remarkable hearing came into play.  Even though I
had been whispering, they heard every word.

"He's right, you know, Mom," Susie said softly.  "Dad's never
fucked you.  Never ever."

Looking over Jean's shoulder I could see the girl with the
warmest, most winsome smile I have ever seen on her face as she
continued thoughtfully, "I guess really it ranges from just
making love to worshiping your body."  Then her smile changed to
a grin as she added, "What do you want tonight, Mom?  Loving or
worshiping?"

"I want that marvelously talented cock in my sopping wet cunt any
way he wants to do it.  Then maybe in my ass, and then in my
mouth...  After that, I'll think of opening a few more holes in
my body for him to use to enter me."

"You see what we mean, Dad?" Sandy said.  "She would do it, too.
She would open another hole or two for you to stick your cock in.
 Particularly the way she feels tonight."

The three of them stripped off my clothes in no time flat.  Then
I saw Susie not only hanging my jacket and slacks, but carefully
brushing them first.

"Mother!" Sandy exclaimed, barely able to contain a grin. 
"Aren't you toilet-trained _yet?"_

I remembered her earlier words when she asked Jean to keep her
bikini on.  Its crotch was now so wet she was dripping on the
floor.

"Shut up, little girl!" Jean retorted.  "Or I'll spank the hell
out of you!"

"Honest!" Sandy exclaimed with her eyes wide.  "Neato!  I haven't
had a really good cum in a long time."

At that Jean just grinned wryly and stuck out the tip of her
tongue.  When she slipped off her bikini, she gave it to Susie to
take it into the bathroom so she could wring it out.  Then she
laid down on the bed with her head resting on two pillows.

How can I describe it?  She was a vision!  Naked except for her
jewels, she had her knees up and spread wide opening her labia. 
Her clit was erect, out of its hood and already vibrating in its
arousal.

"Let's see..." I murmured.  "Step one is to try to get the woman
warmed up a little..."

"Would you just cut the shit and shove that gorgeous cock up my
dirty cunt? _Now!"_ she nearly screamed.

While I moved to comply, Sandy exclaimed, "Mother!  Such
language!  And in the presence of innocent young girls, too..."

"Who?  Where?" Jean replied, again sticking out her tongue.

I slid my cock into the mouth of her vagina and then began
working it deeper.  Looking up, I saw that Sandy had melted her
mouth to Jean's while Susie was working on her tits.  She was
licking and nibbling on one while caressing and teasing the other
with her fingertips.

"So good!" Jean moaned, stretching out the words.

Deeper and deeper I went after lifting her legs up to my
shoulders and then leaning forward, raising her hips up from the
bed.  Now I could drive all the way to my root, and did. 
Reaching down, I pinched her clit instantly triggering her first
very powerful orgasm.  Then I started taking long strokes,
feeling her cunt clinging to my cock as it withdrew and seeming
to open wider on the downstroke.  It was as if her cunt didn't
want my cock ever to leave.

Beyond that, though, there was her incredible internal muscle
control.  In addition to everything else, there was that
marvelous rhythmic squeezing.

Now Sandy had moved downward and had Jean's right tit in her
mouth while Susie concentrated on the left.  Among the three of
us, we were driving Jean berserk.  She screamed in ecstasy as her
orgasms swept over her faster and faster and with increasing
power.  With her whole body in spasm it was easy to see her
incredible muscle development as muscles contracted that normally
were invisible under her satin skin.

When I saw Jean fighting to breathe I eased up and signaled the
girls to ease up, too.  When her breathing was more normal, we
began again.  And again.  And yet again.

While she had been screaming, "Fuck me!" at the beginning, now
there were only utterly inchoate sounds.  I couldn't hold out any
longer.  Giving her clit a hard pinch, I unloaded deep in her
cunt.  She let out an ear-piercing shriek and collapsed.  I did,
too.

The girls rolled me off Jean and instantly Sandy took my cock in
her mouth and began to lick it clean while her sister used her
talented mouth on Jean, licking and sucking as much of our mixed
cuming as she could get.

Finally Jean recovered consciousness.  I was utterly astounded at
what came next.  "That was fun!" she said in her normal tone of
voice.  "Now it's time for part two..."

With that she got up on her knees and with her shoulders on the
bed, reached behind and spread her buns wide, exposing her tiny
amber hole.  "Now fuck the nice lady's ass," she said, her voice
muffled by the sheets.  "Now!"

In response to Sandy's incredibly talented mouth and tongue, I
was hard again.  This time she left a lot of her saliva on my
cock and positioned it at her mother's asshole.  That was all
Jean needed.  I was just kneeling there, wondering whether to do
what she had asked when the decision was taken out of my hands. 
She shoved backward as hard as she could impaling her ass on my
cock.

At the same time, Susan had scrambled under her mother's raised
hips and positioned her mouth to work on her dripping cunt.  In
no time I was driving full length into Jean's luscious ass. 
Periodically, when I was in her full length, I would spank her
bottom hard.  Invariably, this triggered an instant orgasm along
with a little wiggle of her impaled ass showing how much she
liked it.  Utterly unreal.

Then I had another idea.  Reaching down and under, I grasped her
tits and used them to move her back and forth on my cock, as well
as periodically pinching her vibrating nipples.

For her part, Sandy had positioned her head under Jean's to be
able to kiss her mother and caress anything in reach.

When I could hold back no longer, I gave a bun a hard spank and
shot quarts of cum deep into Jean's bowels.  She screamed like a
banshee as it triggered a mammoth orgasm of her own.  She
collapsed on the bed and I collapsed on top of her.  In spite of
our exhaustion, she giggled and I chuckled as little Susie
wriggled to get out from under both of us.  That girl is
incredible!

My erection subsided and I eased out of Jean's ass, then just
rolled over on the bed.  This was all Jean needed.  In an
instant, she was on my cock with her mouth cleaning it off.

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed.  "It's filthy!"

"But it's all mine, so what's the problem?" she replied with
total unconcern.  She returned to her work.

Meantime, Sandy had moved behind Jean who was kneeling above me.
Spreading her asscheeks, she proceeded to lick all around her
mother's still-stretched anal ring, and drove her tongue as deep
into Jean's bowels as she could.

After licking my cock completely clean, Jean used her golden hair
to dry it.  Unbelievable!  But was that all?  Oh, no.

She just knelt there looking at my now semi-erect cock while she
ever so gently fondled my balls in their sac.  She began her
assault on my manhood by licking it, kissing it and very tenderly
stroking it.  I had never felt anything so good.

While she worked on me, it was Sandy's turn to work on her.  The
girl fastened her lips to Jean's luscious cunt and began to lick,
suck and nibble, driving the woman wild.  But remarkably, in
spite of my prior exercise, my cock responded to her talented
lips and tongue.

I was hard and getting harder.  My cock seemed to be swelling,
too, in both length and girth.  In spite of its size, though,
Jean was deep-throating me and it felt incredibly good.  While
Sandy was occupied with her mother's cunt, Susie was kneeling
beside us studying her mother's technique.  (I guess that is what
the educators call a meaningful learning experience.)

The experience continued.  Only then did I realize Jean wasn't
giving head, she was worshiping my cock!  She savored it, drew it
out, kissed the tip and swallowed it again.  Her tongue was
licking the underside and it felt exquisite.

Soon my cock had grown so large I thought it would explode.  Yet
she managed to change tempo causing my urge to cum to recede.

I guess I had begun to moan, but finally I screamed, "Let me
cum!"

Jean just drew my cock from her mouth and admired it like a
little girl with a lollipop, tilting her head from side to side
in her inspection.  "Be patient," she said nonchalantly and
resumed her task.

At the same time I could feel her slender fingers caressing my
sac.  I guess she was estimating how much more cum it could hold
before exploding.

Finally, even her skill was no longer enough.  Just as I was
about to explode in her throat, she drew my cock out until only
its tip was in her mouth.  I came.  God, did I cum!  Sucking as
hard as she could, she swallowed quickly so as not to lose any. 
Finally, it was over and I just collapsed on my back.

For her part, though, she daintily wiped some cum off her cheek
and licked it off her finger.  She moved on the bed until her
face was above mine, then gave me the gentlest, most loving kiss
I could ever remember.

"Thank you, darling, for that luscious cum," she whispered with
her eyes dancing.  "And it was so wonderfully fresh, too!"

Recovering slightly, I pulled her down and she positioned her
body on mine.  I kissed her again and that's all I remembered.

Incredibly, that wasn't the end of our lovemaking for the night.
At least twice more I awakened, slid my again-erect cock into her
love channel and gave her another protein injection.  Each time
the girls took turns with one eating out Jean's cunt while the
other cleaned off my poor penis.  Then the girls took their
positions with Susan beside Jean and Sandy next to me.

When she was beside me, the first thing she did was to put my
hand over her budding tit.  "I can't tell you how wonderful this
feels, Daddy!" she whispered.  "It makes me feel so snugly and so
loved."  When she turned her face toward mine, I melted my lips
to hers and received a kiss just loaded with love.  And as a
bonus I also tasted my cum mixed with Jean's luscious syrup.

I awakened the next morning -- somehow -- with Jean's hand gently
caressing my cock and balls.  To my utter amazement, I was hard
again.  While our lovemaking the night before had verged on the
frantic, this time it was slow and gentle with Jean doing most of
the work with her incredible muscles.

After she had cum several times, I let go.  While I was flooding
her vagina, her pelvis was in spasm with her own orgasm, but she
was holding me tightly crushing her tits with my chest.  When my
flow finally stopped, she murmured, "My darling, that was the
very best of all!  Never in my life have I felt anything so
good."

"Marry me, Jean," I replied.

Her eyes filled as she responded, "I can't, Jim.  You know that.
And how can you know what I'm like?  You've nothing to compare me
to.  You've never even kissed another woman in your life!"

 * * *

Later that morning, after our workouts but before breakfast, the
girls and I were beside the pool watching as Jean stroked up and
down.

"Isn't she incredible?" Susie commented.  "Her stroke is so
incredibly smooth!  And she can keep it up all day, too."  (And
you know what?  I really think she could.)

I changed the subject.  "Why did you kids support your mother
about not getting married?  I was surprised."

"Because of what she whispered to you this morning," Sandy
replied.  "You never have kissed another woman."  Then with a
warm smile she added, "Of course, you're absolutely right.  There
isn't another woman alive who's in her class.  She has everything
a guy could possibly want in a wife and so much more!  Now all
you have to do is fuck a few other women to convince her that she
really is the best."

The girl shook her head and continued, "You know, I really think
it's that dumb 'charity gene' you talk about, Dad.  That, coupled
with a major weakness all of us girls share: we can't be remotely
objective about ourselves.

"What's that mean?  It means that Mom really thinks she's doing
what's sest for you by refusing to marry you and getting out of
your life."  The girl paused for a moment and I could see tears
starting to trickle down her cheeks.  "I don't think she realizes
the damage she's doing to other people -- the three of us -- but
I think she does recognize how bad it is for herself."

Sandy turned to me and I lifted her off her mat and set her
across my lap.  Then I just held her tightly while she continued,
"I'm not really sure Mother could live without you now, and I
mean that literally.  You see, Dad, you provide the power;
without you, I'm really afraid that Mom would be like a clock
left unwound: it -- and she -- would just stop."

"You're kidding!" I protested.

Sandy just sadly shook her head.

"Daddy, it's really worse than that," Sandy continued.  "She's
constantly holding you up as a paragon of everything a man should
be."  She snuggled against me and said, "This is a perfect
illustration, as a matter of fact.  You just knew it would be
easier for me to tell you all of this if you were holding me in
your arms, so you picked me up and here I am.

"Mom adores everything about you.  I can't tell you how happy you
made her by working out and building up your muscles.  She would
never say a word, but it just makes her feel so great she can
hardly stand it.  I hope you notice how much she loves to just
lie on top of you and move her nipples around on your chest.  The
friction drives her nuts, but she loves it.

"Then there's your incredible cock!  She utterly adores it.  She
claims her cunt has taken control of the rest of her body to
further its love affair with your cock.  'He just stretches my
insides to the breaking point,' she says, 'but there's always a
little more stretch.'  Then one day she mentioned to Susie that
as good as she is, your cock is so long and you cum in her in
quarts, she always leaves a lot of your glorious cum to slosh
around inside her.  'I can't tell you how I adore that feeling!'
Mom says.

"But most of all, Dad, there's your sensitivity.  Mom claims that
you just instinctively know how she wants to be taken -- rough,
gentle, or points in between -- and that's what you do."  The
girl looked up into my eyes and I could see that hers were
glistening with tears.  "Last night was a perfect illustration of
two things: First, the different -- and always perfect -- ways
you took her; and second, the fact that you never seem to run
out.  You're constantly amazing her."

Sandy shook her head and exclaimed, "That damned compulsion for
perfection!  And our lack of objectivity.  Do you remember the
first night when Susie made dinner?"

"I certainly do," I responded.  "It was utterly magnificent. 
Honestly, Sandy -- and Susie -- it was the finest steak I've ever
had in my life.  But why do you ask?"

"Because, Dad, it illustrates our problem -- and Mom's.  You see,
Susie's cooking standard -- at a minimum -- is to be better than
Mom.  And I think you'll agree that's a hard standard to reach."

"Better than your mother?" I asked Susie incredulously.

The little girl just nodded her head once.

"My God!" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes.  "I guess it is."

"Is that why you were so upset when I teased you about it,
sweetie?"

Again Susie just nodded her head.

"And in your terms you failed because it wasn't better than your
mother's?"

Again a single nod.

Good heavens! I thought.  I hope to have a life with three of the
most beautiful, most talented and most giving women on the face
of the earth.  If I could only get Jean off this "unworthy whore"
wicket of hers, I'd really have it made.

"By the way," Susan interjected, "Mommy didn't really tell you
the whole truth about our peculiar powers."  She paused for a
moment and then added, "Of course, it's possible that she doesn't
know the full truth herself yet."

She continued, "When she said she got upgraded hair-care power,
she wasn't kidding.  The fact is, she was sort of pissed.  In the
first place, the additional ability or power or whatever only
applies to very elaborate hairdos that Mom can't stand anyway. 
Her existing power was more than enough to take care of any style
she would care to wear.

"I guess it must be like upgrading computer software.  The more
elaborate the upgrade, the longer it takes.  That seems to be the
way this is working."  She paused and interjected, "Sandy and I
don't know how it works.  We don't have the first foggy clue. 
But we've sort of concluded that the transfer happens when we're
snuggling and kissing.

"Anyway, Mom's already pretty good at the audio tracking and
there are signs she's developing the verbatim recording
capability, too."

 * * *

At this point, I'm interrupting the narrative to tell a little
story about how Susan generated $100 million in pure profit for
Callaway Industries.

It all started several months later.  From out of the blue we
received an inquiry from Castle Corporation about buying one of
our plants.  The plant in question was a minor embarrassment to
Callaway.  Although essentially brand new and fully equipped, it
had never been operated.  This in turn goes back to when Doug
Mitchell and I first joined the company.

The plant had been designed to be the fourth plant producing our
most popular product.  However, with de-bottlenecking and process
improvements, we found we could increase the production in the
other three by a combined amount substantially greater than the
capacity of the new plant.  Unfortunately, we learned all this
just as the new plant was nearing completion.  The result was
that, although it cost the company $50 million, it had never been
staffed or operated.  It just sat there with a maintenance crew,
costing us money.  If we were a bank, it would have been a
classic "non-earning asset."  Not only was it not generating any
revenue, it was costing us money for taxes and routine
maintenance.

So when we got the inquiry from Castle we were very interested
indeed.  Then the question was how to handle the matter.  Jack
Callaway instantly removed himself from the picture.  Castle
wanted to meet with us at their attorney's office, and Jack had
found out painfully some time earlier in his career that the
worst possible negotiating position is to have one side with a
decision-maker at the table dealing with a go-between.  Jack
could make a decision but the other guy could not; he had to get
explicit clearance at every step.  It's a good way to lose your
shirt.

Chuck Mitchell could have gone, but the feeling was that, as
executive vice president (he had just been promoted), he had too
much horsepower to handle the sale of a single plant.  (I had
been promoted to EVP, too, but the announcement wasn't scheduled
to be made until year-end.  So as far as the world knew, I was
still a lowly senior vice president.)  All eyes turned to me. 
Then I had an idea.

The result was that I appeared at the offices of Castle's lawyers
with Susan in my wake.  She was utterly adorable, wearing a blue
pinafore in a shade that exactly matched her eyes along with a
white blouse embroidered with tiny golden ducks in a shade that
matched her hair.  I gave the attorneys some song and dance about
Susan's school being cancelled and with her mother committed
elsewhere I had no choice but to bring her along.

"Sir," she said to the senior partner, "may I please stay?  I'll
be very good and won't make a sound.  I brought along a coloring
book and crayons so as not to disturb anyone."  As she said it,
she batted her long eyelashes and unleashed a smile that would
have melted a plaster saint let alone any male human.

The partner was not an exception to this rule.  Although he
clearly didn't like it, he acquiesced but called in a young
secretary, a Miss Johnson, to sit with Susie.  Susie immediately
gave the woman her warmest, most loving kiss and took a seat in a
leather chair in the back corner of the room.  I almost broke out
in laughter when I saw the glassy look in the young woman's eyes
caused by the power of that kiss.

We got down to business.  At the start of the meeting all I had
was Castle's expression of interest; no numbers had been
mentioned.  Their starting point was $20 million.  Susan gave me
an immediate "no" signal while carefully coloring in her book. 
Before arriving at the office, we had arranged a set of signals
between us.  At the outset the system was working perfectly.

At that point, I got up to go.  "Obviously, gentlemen, we really
have nothing to discuss."  Then taking the role of the instigator
of the problem, I apologized.  "It's really all my fault.  I
should have asked for an indication of your purchase-price
thinking before agreeing to meet.  I apologize for wasting your
time."

I began to gather up my papers to return them to my attache case
when the partner in charge quickly apologized for the
"misunderstanding".  It was their opening number, but in no way
was it Castle's final position.  Mollified -- or appearing to be
-- I sat down again.

Then with her head down, coloring intently, Susan signaled me to
stall.  She was so cute!  The tip of her little tongue showed at
the corner of her mouth -- I think she was overdoing it, bigtime
-- as she concentrated on coloring between the lines.  It was
also amusing to see Miss Johnson apparently enthralled with what
my eight-year-old was doing.

At any rate, I stalled.  Although I had indicated that the Castle
offer was unacceptable, I had not mentioned an asking price.

Then they made their big mistake.  A secretary came rushing into
the room and whispered to the senior partner.  He nodded, she
left, and moments later the phone rang in the corner of the room.
 When he took it, it was all I could go to control my laughter as
Susie casually glanced at the man and the telephone and then
returned to her work -- but only after locking onto the phone
conversation.

As soon as he hung up, Susie signaled me to recess.  Glancing at
my watch I realized it was 11:45, so it offered a perfect
opportunity.

Subsequent to the phone call, the atmosphere in the conference
room seemed to change.  Now I felt a real sense of urgency on the
part of the Castle people to get a deal done.

Nevertheless, at noon I glanced at my watch and said, "Gentlemen,
I hate to do this to you, but I must ask that we adjourn for an
hour.  While I'm perfectly willing to go on, my wife will shoot
me if I didn't feed my little girl.  My wife is a nut about
regular meal hours for the children, so..."

With that I arose from my seat and went over to Susan.  Very
meticulously, she put all her crayons back in the box and off we
went to a nearby coffee shop.  After we ordered -- Susan felt so
grown up at again being able to order for herself -- she told me
what she had learned.

"Dad!" she exclaimed in a whisper.  "They've _got_ to do this
deal!  It turns out that while we were meeting, there was another
negotiation in progress.  Castle has just committed to a massive
contract worth over $1 billion to them.  But to perform, they
must have your plant and have it right now.  There's nothing else
comparable available anywhere, and with contract penalties for
late product delivery, they would get killed if they tried to
build a plant themselves from scratch.  There's just no time!

"I ran the penalties against prices, Dad, and it looks like they
could afford up to $200 million for the plant.  But that number
would be about breakeven, so..."

I just shook my head in wonder.  This little girl was utterly
unbelievable.  The fact that she heard both sides of the
telephone conversation as clearly as if she had been listening on
an extension was something I had gotten used to.  But beyond
that, she had done breakeven calculations on a major industrial
facility in her head... while still carefully coloring in her
coloring book.

"Sweetie, that was just utterly perfect!  Now what can I get for
you?"

"Nothing right now, Daddy, but there's a promise for later..."

"I promise.  Now what is it?"

"To take my virginity -- all of it -- on my fourteenthbirthday."

I was surprised, but not stunned for reasons you'll learn.  "Are
you sure, sweetie?  Don't you want to save it for your husband?"

"Nope," she replied quickly.  "I want to be able to train him to
be a really great lover, but to do that I'll need to know a lot
more than I know.  And besides..."  She didn't bother to mention
that it was what her mother had done with me.

I just let it go.  "Susan, you are an utter delight!  You are
really going to be God's gift to some incredibly lucky young
man."

"Are you sure I'll ever find him?" she asked with her eyes wide.

"I'm sure, sweetie.  That seems to be a part of your gene set,
too."

Returning to the conference room, I guess I sort of stunned the
others.  Instead of taking my seat, I began to gather my papers.
"Gentlemen, I really do apologize.  Our plant is no longer for
sale."

There were nothing but expressions of stunned amazement around
the table.

"Wha... What happened?" the lead negotiator stammered.

"At lunch I got a call from headquarters.  It seems we've just
developed a new product that will fit perfectly in our facility,
so that's what we're going to do.  I apologize for having wasted
your time."

Have you ever seen a group of guys staring at losses in the
hundreds of millions of dollars?  That's what I was seeing.

"Is there nothing we can do?" the man said.  He was on the verge
of admitting that they had to have that plant.

"Well..." I drawled, "there's something, but it's so over the top
I don't think it's even worth mentioning..."

Grasping for even the weakest straw he said, "Please tell us. 
We're not ready to dismiss anything."

"Okay, you asked for it.  You can have the plant for $200
million."

The gasps of utter shock around the table were audible.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I told you it was over the top."  Then
trying to sound as reasonable as possible I added, "That's so
typical of Jack Callaway, too.  He's like Bank of America's
founder, A. P. Gianini: he hates to ever say no.  So instead,
he'll make an offer that the other guy can't afford to accept. 
So anyway, the price is $200 million."

Looking gray, the lead negotiator made a call.  Again Susie
glanced in his direction, locking in on the call.  When he hung
up she signaled success.

Finally, I settled on $170 million telling the others that I
thought I could sell the idea to Jack.  After all, ours was a new
product and we did have some time, so our building a new plant
wasn't completely out of the question.  For my part, I thought
that that price would give us a profit of at least $100 million
clear after all the property taxes we had paid and the
maintenance expenses we had incurred, while still leaving Castle
with some profit on its wondrous new contract.

That was the final deal we shook on and I signed on behalf of
Callaway Industries.  It was only after the agreement was
finished and the Castle people had signed that I produced a duly
notarized letter giving me full powers to close the deal for
Callaway.  That took them aback, too.  They hadn't realized that
they had, in effect, been negotiating with a principal.  But no
matter.

As we prepared to leave, Miss Johnson said, "Mr. Dawson, I have
to say that you're the luckiest father alive!  I didn't think God
was still making children as beautiful and as perfect as your
daughter.  She is _so good!"_  With that she turned to Susie and
asked, "Could I have another kiss?"

"Thank you, Miss Johnson," Susan replied with her warmest smile.
"And thank you for keeping me company all day."  With that she
extended her arms and wrapped them around the girl's neck.  Then
she melted her lips to the girl's and really let go.

The girl slowly sank down on a chair with Susie on her lap. 
Susan didn't let up; she was really showing off.  Suddenly the
girl just went limp and Susie held her head to keep it from
hitting something.  The fact was that even with the difference in
size -- Susan was still not even five feet tall -- she could
easily have lifted the woman up in her arms.  Like her mother,
she was very strong and for the same reason: the daily workouts.

Slowly the girl regained consciousness.  Finally she murmured,
"My God!  This girl is unbelievable!"  Then her eyes widened.

Susan had gotten off her lap and a wet stain was visibly
spreading on her skirt where it had been close to her crotc.

"Don't worry about it," I whispered.  "I'm sure no one noticed
your orgasm."

The girl's eyes widened in shock on hearing my words, but then
she just grinned and said, "I sure hope not.  But I'll have to be
careful for the rest of the day..."  Glancing at her watch she
saw that it was almost 5:00, and continued, "... which
fortunately is only a few minutes away."  Looking up at me she
shook her head and said, "That was an all-time first.  Never did
I think I could get off kissing a little girl.  But the power in
her kiss is not to be believed."

Then to Susie she said, "And you had better be careful with the
boys when you get older.  Try that with a guy who's driving when
you're on a date and you're going to end up around a tree!  Girl,
you're dangerous!"

"I am?" Susie exclaimed.  "How neat!"  Then she gave Miss Johnson
another very sweet -- and modulated -- kiss that left her only
light-headed.

The two of us returned to headquarters where we found Chuck
Mitchell with Jack Callaway.

"How did you do?" Jack asked.  "Did you sell it?"

"Yeah."

"Get a good price?"

"That's for you to decide."  With that I put a cashier's check on
his desk in the amount of $100 million.

Jack looked at it and his eyes popped.  "My God!  You sold that
white elephant for $100 million?"

"No, boss.  That's only the down payment.  The full price is $170
million.  We get the balance in cash at closing."

Jack leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes, while Chuck
sank into a chair in a state of shock.  Finally Jack asked, "How
in hell did you manage that?  The damned thing only cost us
fifty."

"I didn't.  Susie did," I replied.  Then I related what Susie had
heard and how she had calculated Castle's breakeven in her head.
"I decided to leave them $30 million, boss," I concluded.  "I
hope you don't mind."

By this time both men were howling with laughter.  Finally Jack
regained control enough to say, "No, I don't mind.  I'll never
mind when we sell a facility we can't use for 340% of our cost."

Then he asked Susan, "Could I see what you colored?  Did you
bring your coloring book up with you?"

She had, and she showed him the pictures she had colored that
day.

"Could I have a picture?" he asked.

"Well..." she replied thoughtfully, "it would mean cutting a page
out of the book.  I just don't know..."  But then she added with
her wonderfully warm smile, "But for you, Uncle Jack, anything! 
Yes, you may have a picture."

With that Jack took a razor blade from his drawer and very
carefully cut out a page that he particularly liked.  Then
looking at Susie he said, "Do you realize what this means, young
lady?"

Susie just shook her head.

"This picture is worth at least $150 million!  No artist who has
ever lived has had a painting worth so much.  Now how does that
make you feel?"

Susie just grinned and giggled.  Then she said, "I was so happy
to be able to help, Uncle Jack.  You and Aunt Kate freed us from
slavery.  Beyond that, though, you adopted us as your daughters
and made us very rich girls.  I can't tell you how wonderful it
makes me feel to be able to do something for you for a change."

The upshot was that Jack promised Susie a lifetime supply of
coloring books and crayons, and then ordered me to take Susie out
to wherever she wanted to go and to do whatever she wanted.  It
was a company expense, of course.

Incidentally, that crayon-colored page is now framed and hanging
on the wall in Jack's office with a little brass plaque labeling
it "The $100 million picture."

Susan opted for a movie followed by dinner at Mama Louisa's.

Once in the theater, she insisted on sitting across my lap for
the entire picture.  Periodically, she would melt her lips to
mine in a loving kiss.  At one point, I really unloaded on her
and put her out.

When she regained consciousness, she whispered, "Daddy, you're
not fair.  Your kisses are just so powerful!"  Then she paused,
thought for a few moments and then continued, "You know, you and
Mom are deadly.  Both of you.  What you gave me is only a
fraction of what you give her.  The power you unleash would kill
anyone else alive.  But you two?  You seem to thrive on it.  You
do, don't you?"

"I sure do.  But why are you sitting on my lap?  And you're not
paying any attention to the movie at all."

"I'm sitting on that telephone pole you have between your legs
and dreaming of the day when it's stretching my insides," she
whispered.

Then she changed the subject.  "You know, that's what it's like
for Mommy, too, sort of."

"What does that mean?"

"Daddy, it's your lovemaking at night and first thing in the
morning.  Mommy says that the memory of the first lovemaking gets
her through the morning, and the anticipation of your nightly
fucking gets her through the rest of the day."  She grinned and
added, "Of course, often that anticipation gets a little out of
control so you have to fuck her before dinner, too..."

I just held her and kissed her warmly.

But you know something?  I think she was right.

 * * *

End Part 3 of 9

To be continued --

* * *

Comments and constructive criticism are sincerely welcome.  Let
me hear from you.  morg105829@aol.com

* * *

"Jean & Jim."  Copyright   2001 by Morgan.  <morg105829@aol.com>

All rights reserved.  No part may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any electronic means, including photocopying,
recording or by any information and retrieval system, without the
written permission of the author.

* * *

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