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From: "Bill Morgan" <morg1058@chartervt.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} NEW from Morgan: Jean and Jim, Part 6 of 9 M/F Rom
Date: Mon, 23 Jul 2001 10:10:03 -0400
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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 6 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 [See <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.)

A note: Throughout this story you'll see underscores before and after words
and phrases (see the lines above).  There is a convention used by MS Word in
its Auto Format mode that italicizes such content.  That's my intent.  For
those of you using other word processors, you'll at least know why those
strange marks appear.

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>

 * * *

When I drove up to the house, it was after 9:30 but the lights were still
on; Jean and the girls hadn't gone to bed yet.  When I drove up to the front
of the house rather than parking in the garage, all the lights came on.  The
girls both whistled at the beauty of the place.  I lifted Merrilee out of
the car, and found Jean standing at the door, waiting.

I carried the girl into the living room and settled her in a high-backed
wing chair whose seat height off the floor looked like it would be
comfortable for her.  She sighed with pleasure as she felt the soft leather
and realized how comfortable it really was.

I turned and found Jean standing there behind me.  I guess we both intended
a quick kiss, but nothing had changed.  Quick kisses just were not -- and
still are not -- in our repertoire.  She moved her body sinuously against
mine while our lips met and linked.  Our two tongues did their dance of love
and finally linked.  I could hear Jean's warm sigh as we both again felt the
electricity and heard those lovely bells.

Finally we eased apart and Jean said, "Hi, darling.  Did you have a good
time?"  Then her face fell as she added, "It's so early, I guess you didn't
score tonight, either, did you?"

"Sweetie, this young woman who I carried in is Merrilee Adams, my first
score.  She just got out of the hospital today, and from what I learned, she
probably left over the violent objections of the medical staff."  Turning to
ML I said, "Right?"

She grinned wryly and just shrugged.

"Have you eaten yet?" Jean asked.  When I said we hadn't she called out,
"Girls!"

Jean was wearing her summer uniform: the short-short Levi's cut-offs with
her shirttails tied below her tits.  She was gorgeous.  Sandy came in
followed by Susan and I made the introductions.  Sandy was dressed the same
as her mother.

"What are you drinking?" Jean asked.  When I told her Cardhu for Merrilee
and me and well-aged Irish for Kelly, she just nodded and disappeared.

Moments later she was back with our drinks and one for herself that I
recognized as Perrier with a lime.  When Kelly asked about it, Jean told her
that she didn't want anything to dull her senses for later.

"With that welcome-home kiss you just exchanged," Kelly said, "I think I
know what you're thinking about."  Then she blushed scarlet but asked, "How
many times do you make love to Jim each day?"

"Three...? four...? five...? It all depends."

"Depends?  Depends on what?" Kelly pursued.

"On how horny I am," Jean replied frankly.  "And he's such a marvelous
lover."  Her face fell as she added, "It's a damned shame that I'm a whore."

At that point Sandy and Susan appeared, each carrying a tray of utterly
gorgeous canapes that I knew they had just made.

"Where on earth did these luscious things come from?" ML asked.

"The girls just made them," Jean replied.  Turning to the girls she said,
"Kids, they're beautiful!  You really outdid yourselves...  And you make me
so proud!"

Both girls beamed with pleasure.

After serving everyone, Susie looked at ML and then joined her.  "May I sit
on your lap?" she asked.

"Of course, sweetie!"  ML then straightened up in the chair so that Susan
would be sitting on her thighs with little or no weight on ML's abdomen.
Susie sat on her lap, looked at her closely and then melted her soft lips to
hers.

Merrilee returned the kiss and the two just cuddled.  Since Susan was
dressed in a fashion similar to her mother and sister, there was a vast
expanse of bare skin.  Very gently ML ran her fingertips over it and
murmured, "So incredibly soft and smooth..."  Then she sniffed the air and
then sniffed at Susan's hair at her ear.  "Susan Dawson, you are utterly
incredible!  You smell of fresh spring flowers, youth and love."  Meanwhile
she continued gently to run her fingers all over Susie's body.

After a few moments, Susan untied the knot in her shirt, unbuttoned it and
shrugged it off.  "If you're going to caress me -- and I just love it --
this dumb blouse just gets in the way."

With her shirt off, it became apparent that her golden tan was all over her
body.  Merrilee just loved it.  Very gently she ran a fingertip over one of
Susie's nipples.  The girl just murmured, "Darn!"

"Darn what?"

"I'm still too young is 'darn what'" the girl replied.  "All it does is
tickle.  With Sandy, though, her nipples get really hard, her areolae
contract, and if I work at it just a little bit, I can get her off."  With a
grin she added, "She really loves that, too, although sometimes she pretends
that she's just humoring me."

"Sue, you are utterly perfect!" Merrilee pronounced.

"Not hardly," Susan replied flatly.  "Just look."

With that she was off ML's lap and slipped off her shorts.  I was amused to
see that somewhere Jean had found bikini-cut panties for our girl.  Of
course, they might have been bikini-cut, but they still had cute little
bunnies all over them.  Susan dropped her panties and turned so that ML
could see the brand that was burned deep into her flank.

Merrilee screamed and looked utterly appalled.  "My God!" she breathed.
"Who would do such a thing to such a beautiful girl?"

"I did it to myself," Susan replied.  "But it really didn't help Sandy very
much."

_"What?"_ ML exclaimed.  "I don't understand."

"Would you show her, please, Sandy?" Susan asked.

Sandy looked at me and at Jean.  Jean looked at me and I just shrugged
leaving the decision to her.  Jean just nodded once and Sandy stripped bare.

Because of her position relative to Kelly and ML, could each see one of the
brands on Sandy's flanks.  Both screamed in horror.

ML held her arms out to Sandy and the girl went to her.  The woman pulled
Sandy's head down to her own and melted her with a loving kiss.  Then she
looked her over carefully, noting the all-over golden tan; even the inner
surfaces of her upper thighs were tanned as well as her bare pussy lips.
Very gently Merrilee ran her fingers over Sandy's pubic area and found that
it was perfectly smooth.

"How do you avoid stubble?" the woman asked.

"It's not hard," Sandy replied.  "I didn't shave it; I plucked out all the
hairs so there's no possible stubble."

"But why...?"

"Because it's what Mommy does.  And like Mommy, when I'm sunning myself I
try to arrange my body so the sun is coming directly down on my crotch.
Then when I do a split I can tan my butt and my pussy, too.   I'm still not
in Mom's class on that, yet; she can get her legs out almost 180 degrees.

"Your mother does that, too?  But why?"

Sandy smiled warmly and replied, "Dad's not supposed to know this, but Mom's
really funny.  She's always working on some facet of her appearance to be
even more beautiful for Dad.  I'm sure he doesn't notice -- I'm not sure
anyone could -- but Mommy does.

"I asked her about it one time.  All she would say was, 'I owe it to your
father to always look my very best.'  That's all.  She does it because she
loves him so damn... darned much!"  With a look over her shoulder she added,
"Sorry, Mom."

"The brands...?"

Susan replied.  Her voice broke as she said, "Sandy did it for  _me._  She
was only 12 at the time and I was seven.  Our captors were going to auction
off my virginity.  Sandy thought she could take a man far better than I
could, so she volunteered to brand herself and allow herself to be taken by
any man who wanted to fuck her.  But first, I had to whip her pussy 25 times
with each stroke drawing blood.

"I don't know how many men took her that first night.  And for the rest of
the time we were there before we were freed, every Saturday night Sandy was
chained to the wall with a long chain and was available to anyone who wanted
her for anything.  Then, of course, both of my sisters -- Sandy and
Stephanie -- had to get 50 strokes with a whip in their cunts from the
customers or they couldn't go to school the following week.

"After they reached 50 -- and it took some pretty vile things to get there
some nights -- the sky was the limit.  I would spend most of the rest of the
night after the customers had left licking their wounds and trying to stop
the flow of blood.  One night it was really brutal on Sandy and that's when
I volunteered to brand myself to try to get her some respite."

The small girl paused for a moment and then continued, "I don't know if it
did any good or not.  Sandy claims I saved her life, but I really doubt
that.  What it did do, though, was to buy her a little time to recover.

"I guess I really stretched out my branding shamelessly to try to use up as
much time as possible.  For that I was whipped pretty badly by my owners
when the customers left.  They claimed that I had cost them a lot of money
since the people were so intent on what I was doing to myself, they forgot
to spend their money on our other... attractions."

I almost became violently ill.  That was the most comprehensive story of the
girls' captivity I had ever heard.  I knew it had been bad, but...

"So do you think a man would ever care to have me, Miss Adams?" Sandy asked
softly.  "I try very hard to look my best and be good, but..."

Tears were streaming unchecked down ML's cheeks and she could scarcely
speak.  But she managed to say, "My darling Sandy, you will be the find of a
lifetime for any man alive!  My God!  Never in my life have I heard a story
of such self-sacrifice and love to protect someone else.  Darling, you are
simply perfect.  And those brands are truly badges of great honor."

Jean interrupted at that point before things got too maudlin.  "I gather you
folks haven't eaten and it is getting late.  What would you like?"

"A... an omelette, maybe...?" Kelly offered hesitantly.  "Could you do that?
Or a can of soup?  Or..."

"Utterly ridiculous!" Jean snapped.  "I know darned well that an omelette at
this time of night might hold Jim for an hour, but that's about it.  I can
make almost anything..."  Then to Merrilee she said, "If your insides are a
bit rearranged, how about a nice sauteed breast of chicken?  I can do it
with olive oil, so there's really only the good cholesterol..."

"Marvelous!" ML replied enthusiastically.  She shook her head and added,
"I'm not supposed to be eating much, but my stomach certainly doesn't know
that.  Frankly, I'm starving!"

Jean just grinned.  Then to me she said, "Darling, guess what?  You've
mentioned sweetbreads, and I have some for you.  How about braised
sweetbreads?"

Indeed I had casually mentioned them to her in conversation the day before.
I had forgotten about it moments after telling her but she hadn't.

Then Jean turned to Kelly who said, "You're really serious, aren't you.
Almost anything?"  Jean just nodded.  "Well..." Kelly continued slowly, "I
was in Switzerland and had liver that was out of this world..."

"Basel style or Zurich style?" Jean interrupted.

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Kelly said with her eyes wide.

"No, she's really not," Sandy interjected.  She giggled and continued, "If
half the food that's prepared in this house is eaten, it's a lot..."

"What are you saying?" I interrupted.  "I don't ever see anything going to
waste."

"You wouldn't, Dad," Sandy replied.  "Most of it goes out at night."

_"At night?"_ I exclaimed, utterly baffled.  "What does that mean?"

"Daddy, you know that Mom got her degree at UIC doing four years' work in a
matter of months.  I think I told you that she never seemed to sleep.  Well,
I guess that's another oddity of ours; we don't seem to need nearly as much
sleep as most people.  The result is that Mom does most of the work around
the house at night while you're sleeping.  And that's also when she gives
Susan and me cooking lessons."

Sandy grimaced and continued, "What a heck of a waste!  Mom will make
something, have a tiny bite, share some with us and then throw the whole
thing out.  She does it for practice."

Then she snapped her fingers, remembering something.  "And sometimes it gets
funny, too.  Remember last week when Mom woke you up in the middle of the
night in tears?  She may have mumbled something about a nightmare?"

"Yeah, I guess I remember," I replied in my usual scintillating fashion.

"Well, it was nothing of the kind," Sandy continued.  "She had made
something and pronounced it to be perfectly awful!  Of course it tasted
pretty good to Susan and me, but what do we know?  Anyway, Mom was in real
need of some TLC... and boy, did you ever give it to her!  When she regained
consciousness after that final monumental orgasm and you were back to sleep,
she made the dish again and this time pronounced it great."

She grinned and added, "And oh, yeah... then we waxed the floor, did the
laundry, scrubbed the bathroom and finished up in time for you to awaken Mom
for her good-morning fucking.  By that time her eyes might have been closed
for a full fifteen minutes or so."

Hearing this, I glared at Jean and demanded, "Is this true?"

She just blushed and replied softly, "I'm always here for you, Jim, aren't
I?"  Then she turned to the girls and said, "Why don't you help Miss Adams
into the kitchen?  You can set the table and we'll get this show on the
road."

Instead of the girls, I easily lifted Merrilee out of her chair having seen
a wistful look from her in my direction.   I carried her into the kitchen in
my arms and carefully set her in a captain's chair.

"You're so incredible, Jim Dawson."  Then she raised her voice for the
others.  "Jean Dawson, however did you train your husband?  Women talk about
men's sensitivity, but most of them don't have the foggiest idea what
they're talking about.  Most of them think in terms of the 'I feel your
pain' kind of sensitivity.  But that's not what I mean at all.  Jim just
seems to know exactly what I want and need and that's what he gives me.  But
how on earth did you do it?"

"First of all, Kelly, I'll make your liver _Zuricher arte._  Since you don't
know one from the other, it's by far the more popular."

Then to ML she replied, "I didn't do a thing.  That's one thing that Jim
brought to the party himself.  But I certainly do know exactly what you
mean.  I can't tell you how many different ways Jim can fuck me, but it's a
large number.  And they range from quietly romantic to near-rape.  And you
know what else?  Whichever way he does it is exactly right for me at the
time."

Then she glared at ML and added, "But it's not 'Jean Dawson' and IT never
will be.  If you insist on being formal, it's Jean Peters!"

While this was going on, Sue had retrieved her milk box and was standing on
it cutting vegetables and then preparing a salad while Jean, seeming
effortless, prepared the three main dishes.  Sandy very meticulously set the
table for four, even producing candlesticks and tapers.  Then she whispered
something to Jean, received an enthusiastic yes, and began work on something
of her own.

"I'm sorry, Jean," ML replied.  "You are Mrs. Dawson.  You _are_ Jim's wife
and the mother of two incredible young women.  Maybe your marriage hasn't
been solemnized by a judge, priest, minister, rabbi, or whatever, but you're
his wife.  Just look at what you share -- you just got finished telling me
how his lovemaking is always perfect for your mood.  These girls utterly
adore you both, and you adore them.  I see you two kissing and I realize
that if either of you really let go on me, I would be instantly dead.  Your
power is unreal!  And you both have it."  She shook her head decisively and
repeated, "You _are_ Mrs. James Dawson, damn it!"

"We told you so, Mommy," Sandy added quietly.  "And everything Miss Adams
said is the God's-honest-truth and we all know it.  But because Susie and I
know you so much better, we know far more about you two than she does.  We
know how you're constantly working on tiny things to make Dad's life better.
We talked about your attention to your body.

"Dad now knows about the sweetbreads, but what he doesn't know is that you
were kicking yourself all around the house for not just knowing it was
something he would like."  She slowly shook her head and added, "How many
women alive would consider it a sign of failure if their husbands had to
mention something for them to know he might like it?  Damned few!"

"Sandra!" Jean exclaimed with her eyebrow raised.

"Damned few!" Sandy repeated.  "You said yourself that it was okay on rare
occasions when real emphasis is required."

"But not when we have company, sweetie," Jean explained.

The girl, again dressed as was her sister, moved close to her mother.  Jean
took her in her arms and melted her with a kiss.  Finally, she eased away
and murmured, "I love you, my darling daughter."

"Then please don't bail out on us, Mommy.  What would we do?"

"You will take care of your father in the same way I would.  And Sandy, look
after Susie, please?  She really does need guidance sometimes."

"Please don't leave us, Mommy!" the girl cried.  "We need you and love you
so!"

"I must, my darling.  It's for the best.  Had I not been a whore, things
might be different, but..."

She moved back to the stove and Sandy returned to what she had been doing.

I was sitting at the table between Kelly and Merrilee.  Both leaned close to
me and Kelly said softly, "Sandy's absolutely right, Jim.  There could be no
more perfect wife in the world for you than Jean.  That woman is utterly
unreal!  And your love...!"

"Jim, how many times have you taken Jean today?" ML asked.

I thought for a moment and replied, "Three, I guess."

"And how long did you have her in orgasm?" she asked.  To Kelly she added,
"And you pay particular attention to Jim's answer.

"Maybe an hour or so," I replied.  "Possibly 90 minutes..."  I thought for a
bit and added, "Make it between 60 and 90 minutes.  Is that close enough?"

"Kelly, the hospital contains all the women that Jim Dawson has fucked in
his life, except for Jean and me.  You can see my condition and you can see
Jean's.  What do you think?"

"I think Jean Dawson owes it to every good-looking woman alive in the world
today to keep Jim from killing them all, is what I think," Kelly replied.

By this time Jean was finishing her cooking.  With infinite care, Susan put
the main dishes on the plates, garnished them perfectly (and individually to
suit the dish), and served.  Jean got another Perrier for herself and joined
us at the table.

Susan asked me whether I wanted a red or a white wine with my sweetbreads.
After a bit of thought, I decided on a red.  She brought the correct wine
glasses and served a lovely grand cru Chablis in a half-bottle for ML, and
opened a magnificent bottle of Romanee Conti, the world's finest burgundy,
for Kelly and me.

ML had a bite of her chicken and looked up at Jean.  "What did you do to
this chicken?  This is utterly magnificent!  I didn't think it could ever be
this good."

"It's just a little olive oil along with some herbs and spices," Jean
replied deprecatingly.

Kelly had a bite of her liver.  "My God!  This is exactly the dish I
remember, but it's so much better than what I had.  And I was eating at the
finest restaurant in Zurich, if I remember correctly."  Then she sipped the
wine and just rolled her eyes.  "And this wine!  The very finest."

"Now, look!" Jean protested.  "These are just a couple of things I threw
together for some hungry people.  Hell, you're so hungry library paste would
taste good to you right now."

"Jean, dear, will you do ML and me a favor sometime?" Kelly asked with her
eyes wide.

"Sure," Jean replied.  "What?"

"Would you please invite us over for dinner sometime when you're serving a
real meal?  Only give us at least ten days' notice so we don't eat anything
in the meantime."  Then she shook her head and said, "The finest food in
Chicago, if not in the whole country, is served in this house."  Then she
added with a straight face, "By the way, do you do take-out?"

Jean couldn't help giggling at the comment but replied, "No, I _do not_ do
take-out.  But I would be very happy to have you both for dinner."

Susan had prepared the vegetables and was waiting anxiously for the verdict.
They were perfectly prepared and still very crisp.

"Perfect!" Merrilee proclaimed.

Kelly tried the salad and did a double take.  "What is this dressing?" she
exclaimed.  "Never in my life have I tasted anything this good.  What is
it?"

"I guess we call it 'Susie's Own' -- sort of like Paul Newman's 'Newman's
Own'.  I'm not sure it's ever the same two times in a row, but it's always
great.  Susan has learned what all the herbs and spices taste like and how
they work together combining tastes, so she just puts a little of this and a
little of that... and this is the result."

 "Susie knows what all these things taste like?"  Then Kelly shook her head
and added, "This is unreal.  Susie is... what?  Nine years old?"

"Eight," I said.

"Eight years old and already a very superior cook."  To Susan she said,
"Sweetie, I'm more than three times your age and I couldn't prepare
vegetables half as good as you just did if my very life depended on it.
Understand?  They're simply perfect.

"And the salad!  Simply out of this world.  But why?"

"For two reasons," Susie replied.  "First of all, Mommy thinks it's very
important for a woman to be a good cook.  Beyond that, though, there's what
she said awhile ago: She's planning on bailing out on us very soon and wants
Sandy and me to be able to take care of Daddy..."

At that the little girl just dissolved in tears.  Blinded by them, she
groped her way toward Jean.  Jean gathered her in, held her closely and
kissed and caressed her all over.  "I adore you and your sister, sweetie.
You know that.  But you also know why I have to leave..."

"Mother, you're being such a fool!" the little girl exclaimed through her
tears.

"Why do you want to ruin four lives, Jean?" ML asked quietly.

"And kill God only knows how many young women?" Kelly added.

_"What?"_ Jean exclaimed.

"Just look at the four of you," ML responded.  "Never in my life have I
encountered the level of love that exists in this house...  Among all four
of you!  Clear?  Now why are you so determined to wreck it?"

"You haven't heard the whole story yet," Kelly replied.  "But your husband
has bedded seven girls since you threw him out of your bed.  Every one --
except for ML -- is in the hospital right now!  And at least one of them --
plugged into every medical device and fluid imaginable -- wants to pull out
all of the tubes, go find Jim and get fucked again.  And this is in full
knowledge of the fact that it will kill her.  And I mean kill her _dead!_
Understand?

"And it should be obvious to you that ML should be with the others in the
hospital right now herself.  She's so weak and her groin and abdomen are in
such sad shape, she needs crutches just to hobble around."

Glaring at Jean with emerald sparks flying from her lovely green eyes, Kelly
concluded, "Are you getting a message, Jean _Dawson?"_

Jean just slowly shook her head like a punch-drunk fighter who had absorbed
too many punches.  She had been rocked.

Susan had pulled herself together and had cleared the table.  Then we
learned what Sandy had been doing as she used a chafing dish to flame crepes
Suzette.  They were magnificent and everyone said so.  The girls and Jean
even shared some.

I served cognac and cigars that Jean also had.  Neither of the guests had
ever had a cigar before, but when Jean carefully lighted panatellas for each
of them, they took them.  I had my Corona corona.

Kelly slid her chair back from the table, turned it slightly and stretched
her lovely long legs.  At five feet seven and a bit, she's a tall girl; not
as tall as Jean, but tall.  "So this is pot luck at the Dawson's, huh?
Jean, Sandy and Susan, it was the finest meal -- bar none -- I've ever eaten
in my entire life.  And on a Callaway Industries expense account I've eaten
at many of the very finest restaurants in the world.  None come close."
Then she grinned and added, "But I repeat: I'll await an invitation to come
over for a real meal sometime."

She snapped her fingers as an idea came into her head.  "Jean, by any chance
do you have the recipe for that liver we just ate?"

"I may have it on my computer," Jean replied.  "Want me to look?  Why don't
we all go into our sitting room and relax for a bit before bed."

"Bed...?" ML stammered.  "But... but... I've got to get home..."

"How?" Jean asked.  "On crutches?  And to do what?  You haven't been there
for ten days.  And we have plenty of room."

"I don't have anything..."

"We have all the toiletries," Jean interrupted.  Then with a warm smile she
added, "Susie has asked to share your bed, by the way.  She thinks you're
really neat and she can't wait to be able to fit her bare body to yours."
Then she grinned and added, "And I have to admit that her youthful body
fragrance is just lovely when waking up in the morning."

Back in our apartment, Jean moved her mouse awakening her computer from its
standby mode.  Kelly was standing beside her as she sat down in her chair
preparatory to searching for the recipe.

But when Kelly saw Jean's desktop, she moved to hold Jean's hand to keep her
from bringing up anything.  I didn't understand what was going on.

Then Kelly exclaimed softly, "My God! _You're_ Jeanie!  Admit it!  Jean
Dawson, you're the Jeanie who designed our user interface, aren't you?"

The way Jean's shoulders slumped I instantly knew that what Kelly had said
was true.

Jean only murmured, "Yes..."

Kelly was gleeful.  "My God!" she exclaimed turning toward me.  "I was
concerned because I hadn't heard a word from Jeanie.  No wonder!  You've
been fucking her ass off, Boss."

Jean had risen from her seat and was standing close to Kelly.  "Please!" she
pleaded.  "I haven't done a damned thing..."

"Oh, no!" Kelly responded derisively.  "You just made the whole thing go!"
To me she said, "I mentioned the interface to you, Boss, but you haven't
ever seen it.  We put it in right after you went on your leave and sales
took off like a rocket.  Through your work we had a back end that was, by
far, the most rock-solid in the industry.  But with all due respect, the
user interface -- to be most charitable -- was really kludgy.  Anyway, Jean
fixed it.  What do you think?"

For the first time I really looked at it.  Although I just glanced at it, I
could see that everything a user might want was right where one would expect
it to be.  "How did you do this?" I asked Jean.

"It's really sort of dumb," she replied, "but I was able to get away with it
as my senior project in management science.  'Science'!  What a joke.
There's nothing to it; any idiot could have done the same thing."

"Right..." Kelly interjected, drawing out the word.  "That's why our sales
have increased by a factor of ten with the new interface."  Then her face
fell as she added, "The next quarter's bonus is going to be a real beaut.
What a stinking shame..."

"What's a shame?" I asked.

"That I won't get it," she replied softly.

"Why won't you get it"

"Because I'm not working for Callaway anymore.  Remember?  I quit or you
fired me or something."

"No, Kelly.  You just have a different assignment.  You're going to teach
Brian Malone to be a lover.  Remember?  But you're most certainly still on
the payroll."

Merrilee had been studying the monitor while we had been talking.  Finally
she said, "Jean, you did this all by yourself, didn't you?"

Jean just nodded.

"What incredible genius!" she exclaimed.  "With this front end...  Oh, my!
Our systems will be the envy of the whole industry."

"Sweetie, I guess we never mentioned it before, but Merrilee is better known
in computer circles as ML Adams, the finest software designer alive.  And
she's just agreed to join Callaway.  So I think you could interpret what she
just said to be the highest praise from a very informed source.  Okay?"

Because they were standing close, somehow Kelly's hand contacted Jean's
abdomen.  I saw the girl's eyes instantly flare and she murmured, "My God!
You're carrying Jim's baby, aren't you?  You're pregnant!  I just felt a
movement down there, and it certainly wasn't your digestive tract."

At that remark, Jean crumpled to her knees and began to cry.  And it was
unique in my experience; they were hopeless-sounding tears.

"What were you planning on doing?  Running out on Jim and never telling him
he had fathered a child by you?  Jean Dawson, could you possibly be so
selfish?" Kelly demanded.

"But I'm a whore!" Jean wailed.

"Okay," Kelly said with her legs now spread wide.  "How do I get started?"

Slowly Jean lifted her head from between her legs.  She had been doubled up
while crying her heart out.  "Get started as what?" she asked, bewildered
with tears still streaming down her cheeks..

"As a prostitute, turkey!" Kelly exclaimed.  "Clearly, you're the finest
wife and mother our Good Lord ever saw fit to put on this earth, and you
were a prostitute.  So I guess I'll have to be one, too.  Now how do I get
started?"

"You're crazy, Kelly Maguire!"

"Crazy?"  Turning to Merrilee she asked, "What do you think, ML?  You've
been through it..."

"I've been getting pissed is what I've been doing," Merrilee replied.
"Quite honestly, Kelly, I'm pissed... _at you!"_

_"At me?"_

"Damned right," ML insisted.  "My insides are sort of beat up so I won't be
able to work the streets for a while yet.  So I'm pissed because you'll be
ahead of me."

Turning back toward Jean, Kelly asked, "Okay.  Are you ready to marry Jim
now?"

"I can't!" Jean cried.  Again she dropped her head to her thighs and just
bawled.

Turning to me, Kelly said, "Boss, you've been doing this all wrong!"

"Wrong?" I echoed.  (But you'll notice I didn't say, "Huh?"  An
improvement.)

"Yes, wrong," she repeated.  Then looking thoughtful she continued, "You've
been going on the assumption that, like most people, Jean has her brains in
her head."

She paused for a moment and continued, "Well, maybe she does.  But whatever
she's using to come to the utterly insane -- and inane -- decision that she
can't marry you isn't there.  I think it's at the other end: in her bottom.
So..."

"Kelly, dear heart, are you suggesting that I do something to... gain the
attention... of the operative parts?"

"Boss, I think that's a simply wonderful idea!" she exclaimed with a grin.

Merrilee clapped her hands in glee.

Turning to Jean, still sobbing, I ordered, "Woman!  Strip!"

Jean raised her head and her eyes were wide.  "But, Jim..."

_"Strip!"_ I repeated.

Jean just looked at me wide-eyed, but untied the knot in her shirt,
unbuttoned it and let it drop to the floor.

"My Lord!" ML gasped.  "I've never seen such perfect tits in my life."

Slowly, Jean unbuttoned her shorts and slipped them over her hips.  They,
too, dropped to the floor.  With her eyes still fastened on mine, she slowly
slipped her bikini over her hips and let it fall, too.

"Perfect tits?" Kelly said softly.  "Don't you mean 'perfect body'?  The
woman is unreal.  And she is female perfection."  Then she giggled and
asked, "ML, are you really sure you want to try to entice Jim away from her
bed and into yours?"

(I should point out that I heard some of this at the time, but most of it
came from Sandy and Susan's "instant replay".)

"I give up!" ML said softly.  "You're right, Kel.  She's perfect.  Just
plain perfect."

Jean was now just standing up straight before me with tears rolling
unchecked down both cheeks.

"You're carrying our baby, Jean," I said softly.  "Don't you think you
should marry me?"

"I can't, Jim!" she wailed.  "You know that.  I just waited too long.  I was
going to leave today but couldn't bring myself to do it.  I'm just too
selfish..."

I sat down on her computer chair and ordered, "Over my knee."

Her eyes widened.  Now they appeared to be larger than I had ever seen them.
Still standing up straight, she moved her hands behind to cover her buns.
She knew what was coming.  "Jim... No.  Please no..."

_"Over my knee!"_

She covered the few feet between us as slowly as if she was going to her
execution.  But then she bent over my right leg.  She was so cute!  Her
hands were still trying to cover her buns.

"Put your hands where they belong," I ordered, "and relax your cheeks."
Gently I ran my fingers over her perfect skin and murmured, "Such a shame."
Then to Jean I said, "Will you marry me, Jean?  Saying yes will save you a
lot of pain, you know."

_"I can't!"_ she wailed.

I began to really whack her.  As I've mentioned before, my hand is big and I
had become pretty strong -- very strong, as a matter of fact.

"My God!  He's killing her!" ML whispered.

"But it just might work," Kelly replied.  "I certainly hope so."

After ten spanks, all on her right cheek, Jean was screaming in pain.  I
really hurt her, I'm afraid.  "Will you marry me, Jean?" I asked softly.

"No," she whispered.  But it sounded like a tremulous no; not nearly as
certain as her refusals had been before.  "I'm sorry, sweetie.  Now take
your position on my other leg."

When she arose from my leg I could see her cum running down her inner
thighs.  "Wait!" I commanded.

She stopped and looked at me with a question in her eyes.

I ran a finger up her thigh to pick up some of her syrup and licked it.
"Umm!  You're _very_ sweet tonight."  Then I glared at her and ordered, "Now
go to your friends and offer them a taste."

"Jim!" she exclaimed.  She was genuinely shocked.

"What's the problem?  You keep telling everyone -- including our friends --
that you're a whore.  Surely offering your cum to friends can't bother you."
I paused for a moment and added, "Use your finger to get it still nice and
warm from your cunt."

This was really killing her.  But she went to Merrilee, swallowed hard and
stammered, "Would you like a taste of my cum cream, Miss Adams?  Jim says
I'm very sweet tonight."

My love for ML took an upward leap at that moment.  I could see the sadness
and sympathy for poor Jean in her eyes.  She swallowed hard, though, and
said, "Yes.  Yes, I would.  May I have a taste of your lovely cunt?"

Slowly, Jean lowered her hand to her cunt, spread her thighs a bit and
reached up with two fingers.  She came out with a gob of syrup on her
fingertips which she extended toward Merrilee.  At that instant I realized
that I was probably embarrassing both girls, too.  It was unlikely they had
ever tasted cum cream in their lives before.

But ML took Jean's hand and brought her fingers into her open mouth.  "Mmm!
Delicious!" the girl pronounced.  "You really are sweet!  Is there any
more?"

Jean was truly shocked at ML's response, but she nodded her head.  And I
knew that there was a lot more where that came from.

"Great!" the girl said.  "May I have more after you've given Kelly a taste?
But I would like to get it myself next time.  Okay?"

Tears were streaming down Jean's face but she managed to say yes.  When she
reached between her legs to put her fingers up her vagina again I could see
that already her right bun, which was crimson, was turning color.  She was
in bad shape.

She offered her fingers to Kelly who licked them off.  "Delicious!" she
pronounced.  Then to Jean she said, "Now stand between us so the two of us
can share.  And I'll help myself, too, thank you."

Standing between the two girls, she lowered herself bowlegged to open
herself up to their hands.  Now she was sobbing and I knew it was because of
her humiliation.

Both girls had long fingers and they took turns scooping gobs of Jean's cum
from her cunt.  From a look on her face, I could tell that Kelly was
actually giving some thought to putting her whole hand up Jean's vagina --
really fisting her -- but decided that would really be too much.

When they had retrieved all they could, ML said, "No wonder it's called a
honey-pot.  Jean Dawson, you are utterly delicious!  It's like eating honey
but without all the calories."

When the girls finished, Jean returned to where I was still sitting and
waiting.  I almost felt that it was with a sense of relief to end her
humiliation.  She lay across my left leg, softened her buns and waited.

"Will you marry me, Jean?" I asked again softly.

"No," she choked out.

Again I beat her and again ordered her to make her cream available to our
guests.  She stumbled over to them while crying uncontrollably.  Then she
just bowed her legs to open herself up and the two girls feasted on her
again.

This went through two more cycles.  When the girls had finished with her for
the fourth time, she just fell to her knees crying brokenly.  "No more," she
whispered.  "I can't take any more."

"Will you marry me, Jean?" I asked softly.

No answer.

"Marry me, Jean!" I ordered.

"Okay," she whispered.

"What did you just say?"

At that, Jean's attitude changed dramatically.  She rose up to her full
height even though her legs were still pretty wobbly and declared, "Yes,
dammit!  I'll marry you!  You've beat the shit out of me already, and it's
pretty damned clear that you won't stop until I say yes, so I'm saying yes!
Happy?" she demanded, glaring at me with blue fire in her eyes.

"I'm ecstatic, darling," I replied softly.  "And I have to give it to Kelly.
She was absolutely right.  The answer proved to be in an unexpected part of
your anatomy."

She was still glaring at me, but looked utterly gorgeous.  "All right, Jim
Dawson, now fuck me in the ass right now!"

"Here?" I asked incredulously.

"Right here!" she declared.  "These pigs have been feasting on my cunt all
night, so I'm sure the sight of me being fucked in the ass won't upset them!
Now do it!"

Then she started to cry, but held her head up straight.  "God knows, I tried
to get out of your life, James Dawson!  But I was too weak... and I love you
so damned much.  I was too selfish.  I couldn't bear to give you up... to
anyone."

Now her shoulders were back and she was vibrating with emotion.  "Then there
are our daughters... two finer human beings God never put on this earth.
Any parent would be delighted to have a kid one-tenth as good as ours, and
we have two. _Two!_  Can you believe it?"

She spun around looking for Susie.  Glaring at her she said, "Okay.  Now
strip.  You know what you have to do."  Turning back to me she screamed,
"Now fuck my ass!  And do it hard!  I want you to make me scream for mercy
every time you pound that weapon into my ass.  Now do it!"

I was hard as a rock by then, to say the very least.  Jean's body had been
shaking in orgasm with every spank and had almost from the very first.  "On
your knees and spread those cheeks," I ordered.

Susie had shed her clothes but walked past her mother and came to me.  Then
she carefully undressed me, making clucking sounds when she found that the
thighs of my pants were soaked with Jean's cum.  As was her habit, she
carefully brushed my jacket and hung the trousers over a wooden valet to dry
first.  Meanwhile, it was all I could do to control a grin; Jean was still
on her knees and going nuts with the waiting.

But Susan was not to be hurried.  Very carefully she undid my tie (yeah, I
was actually wearing one for the night's hunting) and then my shirt.  She
took my loafers and socks, leaving me in my jockey's.  When the rest was
disposed of, she got to her knees before me and carefully lowered them
lifting them out to clear my still-raging cock.

"So lovely!" she murmured as she took it in her warm mouth and caressed it
with her tongue.

Kelly had moved her chair close beside Merrilee's and the two were
whispering.  (But with the girl's haring ability, they might as well have
been using a PA system.)  When Susie unveiled my raging cock, Kelly gasped
while ML just sighed.

"Isn't that the most magnificent cock you've ever seen, Kel?" she asked.
"Then with another sigh she added, "Just think!  I had that monster inside
me!...  Heaven!"

"He's a golden god!" Kelly breathed.  "He's absolutely unbelievable!  And
his cock's tanned!"

"And he's about to fuck a golden goddess, too.  Can you possibly imagine a
more perfect female body than Jean's?  I sure can't."

By this time Susie had slid under Jean's hips and had her lips and tongue
already working on her still-dripping cunt.  At the same time, Sandy had
stripped and laid down on the carpet with her face under Jean's.  Reaching
up, she pulled Jean's face to hers and began to merge their lips.

For her part, Jean now had her shoulders resting on Sandy's chest while both
hands were behind her spreading her ass cheeks as far apart as they would
go.

"Now fuck me, damn it!  Fuck your slut's filthy asshole!"

I entered her hard and she screamed but at the same time drove backward to
slam her tortured bottom against my thighs.  She screamed and her whole
pelvis violently convulsed in a massive orgasm.

"My God!  Would you look at that?" ML whispered.  "That woman is all muscle!
Look at them bulge as they spasm."  Slowly she shook her head and added, "No
wonder..."

"No wonder what?" Kelly asked.

"No wonder she can take him and every other woman ends up a basket case!
She's nothing but perfectly toned muscles!"

"But what about him?" Kelly exclaimed.  "Look at those shoulders, those
upper arms... those thighs!  My God!  They're tree-trunks."  She sighed and
added, "What a way to go!"

"Sure is," ML quietly agreed.

I was really pounding Jean's ass.  Furthermore, I had been feeling her
multiple cumings every time I spanked her.  The result of this was that I
couldn't hold back for very long and didn't.

Screaming, _"I'm cuming!"_ I really unloaded while at the same time driving
as deep into her ass as I possibly could.  Believe it or not, she was still
holding her cheeks spread as wide as possible.

At that instant, Jean let out the loudest scream I ever heard from her lips.
_"Fuck me!"_ she cried.

I really unloaded.  I must have cum in quarts that time.  At the same time,
Jean was taken by the most intense orgasm in all our time together... and
you know she had never had an orgasm before meeting me.  Her whole body was
in violent paroxysm as I poured my cum into her asshole.  She collapsed on
top of the girls, but I was right behind her.  Never had I cum so much.

"I just don't believe what I've just seen... or think I've seen," Kelly
whispered.

"It's all real!" ML emphasized.

Jean was unconscious -- her whole nervous system had shorted out -- and I
wasn't much better.  But when Susie wriggled out from under her mother's
body with me on top and moved toward my now-limp cock, Jean recovered.

"Don't you _dare!"_ she exclaimed.  "That's mine."

Although still groggy, she moved toward me.  I had rolled off her and was
lying on my back when she took my limp cock, still covered with her anal
residue, into her very talented mouth.  Then she really used her talent.
She licked, sucked, kissed...  Jean did everything imaginable and soon had
me hard as a rock.

"My God!" ML whispered.  "She can't possibly..."

But she could.  She took my full length down her throat.  At the same time,
she somehow managed to get her tongue licking my cock's underside.  Unreal!

In spite of just having cum in quarts, I could feel myself rising to another
peak.  Was this good enough for Jean?  Hah!  Sensing I was about to cum, she
very slightly changed her tempo.  It was enough to let me down from my
incipient crest.  And she continued contentedly to suck.

She kept this up until I was pounding my fists on the floor, demanding that
she let me cum.

Jean took my cock from her mouth and examined it closely... or pretended to,
anyway.  "Nope.  You're not ready yet," she pronounced and resumed her work.
She is incredibly talented.

"I just do not believe what I'm seeing," Kelly whispered.  "Jim's gigantic,
yet Jean seems to take it all in her mouth."  Turning to Merrilee she asked,
"Did you do that?"

"I kissed it and licked the tip," she replied, "but that was it.  I don't
know how Jean does it, but she sure does!"  She paused and added while
slowly shaking her head, "If I had managed to do that, with his size he
would have opened me up end to end.  The cavern his cock made where my cunt
used to be would connect to the pipe he would have created by fucking my
throat."

I decided Jean was getting her revenge.  But eventually -- my banging my
fists on the floor did nothing at all -- nature took over and overcame her
talent.  I exploded.  But she swallowed it all -- somehow.  I almost passed
out and did end up on my back on the floor.  And Jean?  She just went back
to working on my cock.  After two monumental orgasms I didn't think it was
possible for me to get hard again in less than eight hours.   But what did I
know?

What I did know was that Jean's work with her mouth and tongue on my cock
was something I had never experienced before.  She was making love to my
cock!  Incredibly, the damned thing responded.  In a matter of just a few
minutes I was hard as a rock again.

With that Jean flopped on her back with her legs spread wide and said
softly, "Now fuck me, Jim!  And fuck me right."

"No," I replied softly.

"No?" she nearly screamed.  "But I said yes.  I said I will marry you.  What
more do you want, for heaven's sake?"

"Think about what you said.  And remember Sandy."  I guess she used that
incredible information retrieval system of hers -- the biggest mainframes
should be so fast.

"Husband, please make love to your wife," she whispered.  "Please put that
luscious weapon into my sopping sheath!"

That was the correct answer, but it wasn't what I had in mind.  Instead of
lunging deep into her waiting cavity, I reached out and lifted her up.
Taking her into my arms, I merged my lips with hers.

"Incredible!" Merrilee whispered.  "He's going to do to her what he did to
me.  It's going to be so wonderful, Kelly.  Just watch!"

The two-way flow of our love and sheer passion was incredible.  (It's a
shame we couldn't harness that power and use it somehow.)  When we eased
apart to breathe, I began to nibble her earlobe triggering a small orgasm.
Then I began to kiss her face all over -- her eyes, her nose, her lips
again.  And again our lips merged.  My tongue sought out hers in a dance of
love.  They linked and her pure passion almost put me out.

By now, though, Sandy was behind her mother supporting her back.  When I
moved lower on Jean's body, Sandy turned Jean's head and melted her lips to
hers.  When I began to nibble on Jean's left nipple, Susan did the same
thing on her right.  She had joined in, too.

"Mother, thank you for staying with us," Sandy breathed.  "I really don't
know if Susie and I could ever make it without you."

"It's so utterly beautiful!" Kelly whispered.  "My God!  If those kisses
were filmed, they would make cinematic history.  Those two are unreal."

"Kelly, dear friend," Merrilee replied, "why do you think those women would
have willingly -- and gratefully -- sacrificed their lives?  I got the same
thing.  Not with nearly the power -- I would be dead if Jim had ever kissed
me the way he kisses Jean -- but all the same moves.  Are you getting a
picture?"

"That working with the equipment he has -- his gorgeous cock, for example --
she's made him the world's premier lover?"

"You got it!" Merrilee responded.  "What do you think?"

"I think you're absolutely right is what I think."

By now I had worked my way down Jean's torso and had reached her gorgeous
cunt.  I lifted her up so her thighs were on my shoulders and really started
eating her.  She was luscious!  But my behavior this time was different.  I
worked hard to bring her to mild -- for her -- orgasms.  I wanted this to be
very soft and sweet.

While I was working on her cunt, the girls were taking turns kissing all
over Jean's upper body while telling her how happy they were.

Finally, I judged that Jean was where I wanted her.  I lowered her legs to
align her vagina with my cock and slowly entered her.

"Thank you, my darling husband," she breathed.  "Never have you entered my
cunt so smoothly or so easily."  She smiled the warmest smile I had ever
seen and asked softly, "Will you kiss your wife?"

With my cock now in to its root, I raised her torso up and again melted my
lips to hers.  At the same time I could feel her very talented cunt
squeezing my cock.  The feeling was out of this world.

"I love you, James Dawson, with all my heart!"  Jean breathed.  "Thank you
for having me as your wife."

What followed was very gentle lovemaking.  But finally I could hold out no
longer and really let go... again.  I was cuming in quarts!

Jean was in spasm too, but it wasn't nearly as violent as it usually was.
Instead her eyes were wide open and she just looked into mine while she
seemed to savor the feeling of my cum filling her body.  As my spasms
slowed, she looked at me lovingly and said, "The very best, James Dawson!"
Then very slowly she added, "I love you with my whole heart and soul, my
darling."

At that I again lifted her torso and kissed her.  It was so utterly warm and
wonderful, it was not to be believed.  While I was kissing her, my poor,
overworked cock went limp and I withdrew.  Then she surprised me -- again.

Rising to her feet she went over to our guests and said, "Would you like to
taste something truly wonderful?  Jim's cum.  Kelly?  Merrilee?"

Instead of responding, ML reached up toward Jean.  Knowing what the girl had
in mind, she lowered her head and the two women kissed.  It was truly
lovely.  (And, by the way, Merrilee is now one of my wife's closest
friends.)

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life!" ML breathed.
"And thank you, darling Jean, for allowing me to share Jim with you, if only
that one time.  It was heavenly.  Not nearly up to the level you and he just
achieved, but lovely just the same."

The two young women then proceeded to do what they had previously done.
They used their fingers to extract our mixed syrup from Jean's cunt.  While
this was going on, I had risen from the floor and sat (collapsed) on the
sofa.  When the women were finished, Jean joined me, wincing when she sat on
her tortured bottom.  At that point Susie began to work with her talented
tongue on Jean's cunt while Sandy just snuggled on her other side.

"Mom," the girl said, "I can't tell you how happy I am that you and Dad are
getting married.  Honestly, I've been scared to death about dating without
you around to coach me."

"I don't think it's going to work out that way for you, my darling
daughter."

Sandy's face just crumpled.  "You mean... you mean... that I'll never have a
date?" she asked, utterly aghast.

Jean realized what Sandy was worried about and hugged her tightly.  Then she
said softly, "No, my darling, that's not it at all."  Then she looked into
Sandy's magnificent blue eyes with her own eyes gleaming.  "How many guys
did Sheila date?  Or Stephanie?"

Sandy thought for a moment and looked at her mother with consternation.
"But they've only dated a single guy!"

"That's right," Jean agreed.  "And so did I.  Sweetie, do you remember the
first night your dad and I went out to dinner alone?  Do you remember how I
was acting?"

Sandy obviously activated her instant-replay system and studied the results.
Her eyes widened and she looked at Jean in disbelief.  "Mom... you were
nervous... and scared!  But why?"

Before answering, Jean kissed and caressed Sandy all over.  Then she said
softly, "Because a girl is often scared when she's going out on her first
date.  My darling, believe it or not, that _was_ my first date!"

"Oh, Mommy!" Sandy squealed.  "That's just so incredibly neat!  Your first
date was with the man you're marrying."

"As was Sheila's," Jean continued.  "And, let's face it: Does Mike have a
snowball's chance in hell of getting away from Steph?"

She grinned and added, "Of course, I almost screwed the whole damned thing
up, but, thanks to buns that will be hurting for at least a month, I finally
wised up."  She smiled softly and added, "Sandy, it's not an immutable law
of nature -- I don't think -- but based on precedent, there's a very good
chance that your first date will be with the guy you end up marrying.

"And there's something else, too.  I've finally come to the realization that
we're one-man women.  I really feel like kicking myself.  You probably
already know -- I was the thick-headed one -- that I was madly in love with
your father the first instant I saw him.  Everyone -- and I mean
_everyone_ -- who's ever seen us together says we're made for each other.
As I said, I thought it was true the first time I saw him and I _knew_ it
was true the first time we kissed.  And that's just reinforced every time we
kiss, which, I thankfully add, is often."

At that point I received a shock.  Kelly rose from her chair and went to the
phone.  Before picking it up though, she asked me the name of our local
church.  I was puzzled, but gave it to her.  She just nodded once and dialed
411.  Getting the phone number, she dialed it.

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed.  "Do you realize what time it is?"

"Yeah," she said laconically, "it's 12:15."  Then she just turned her back
on me.

 From the time involved, it took awhile for anyone to answer.  But finally
someone did.  (This is all from Jean who "recorded" the conversation.)

"Father Collins?" Kelly asked.  Receiving an acknowledgment, she identified
herself and asked, "Do you have anything scheduled for 11:00 tomorrow... or
rather today.  Sorry.  It is after midnight."

Learning that the schedule was clear, Kelly continued, "Great!  You're
marrying James Dawson and Jean Peters at 11:00."

Then she held the receiver away from her ear as the priest obviously was
screaming.  When he finally ran down, she held it normally and continued, "I
apologize, Father, for not identifying myself.  I'm Kelly Maguire.  And you
really don't want me to have to call Uncle Terry, do you?"  She paused and
then added, "Darn!  I guess you don't know him as Uncle Terry, do you?  To
you he is -- or is about to be -- Terrence Cardinal Maguire, newly named
Cardinal Archbishop of Chicago."

She listened for a few moments and then said, "Thank you very much, Father
Collins.  I just knew it wouldn't be necessary for me to call Uncle Terry."
She paused for a moment and then added, "Of course, every time I see him --
which is quite often -- he reminds me that I'm his very favorite niece.  But
thanks again."

Hanging up the phone she said, "Okay.  Now that's done.  You two won't be
single in 12 hours."

I rose and carried Merrilee in her chair over toward the sofa.  Kelly joined
us and Sandy moved to the floor between my legs to clean my cock.  If you
can imagine the sight, six of us including two children.  The youngest
between the thighs of her mother licking out our mingled cum while the other
was carefully cleaning me off.  Oh, well.

"Have you ever heard of a shift wedding, darling?" Jean asked.

"Nope.  What's a shift wedding?"

"That's when the bride comes to her marriage with nothing -- only her shift.
She could get out of debt that way because the new husband didn't take on
any of her prior obligations.  That's what I'm going to do.  I'm signing
everything I own over to you."

She paused, thought for a moment and added, "In fact, I'm not going to be
your wife, I'm going to be your mistress.  That way you can throw me out in
the street at any time.  Okay?"  Jean seemed quite elated at the idea.

"You mean when you get fat and dumpy?"

Her face fell.  "That's very unlikely to happen," she said softly.  "It's
another of our differences.  I guess we have a sort of variable-speed
metabolism.  Remember Lieutenant Richards telling about me working to put on
weight?"

I nodded.

"Well, it was a bitch, believe me!  You see, when I take on a lot of
calories, my metabolism speeds up to burn off what the body doesn't need; we
don't seem to store fat the way humans do..."

"My God!" ML interjected.  "That's not human!"

"You're right, ML," Jean replied, "so I guess we're not."  But then she
gently ran her slim fingers over her abdomen and her eyes flared.  I guess
there was movement down there.  "But we're close enough for most purposes.

"But anyway, what little money I've got is now yours, my darling," she
concluded.

"Hah!" Kelly said.  "Little do you know..."

"About what?" Jean replied, puzzled.

"Well," Kelly explained with her eyes sparkling, "it's your own fault for
being out of touch..."

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your royalties on the user interface," Kelly replied.
Now she was giggling.

"Damn it, Kelly Maguire, would you kindly knock off the shit and tell me
what you're talking about?" Jean demanded.

"I'm talking about the development deal," Kelly answered.  "You did the work
for $5,000..."

"And my professor was delighted, too," Jean interjected.  "I was the only
student he's ever had who got paid -- let alone paid so much -- for a senior
project."

"That's the problem," Kelly said mysteriously.

"Maguire, if you still want to be alive five minutes from now...!" Jean
threatened.

"It's the money," Kelly explained.  "As you know -- or should -- there's a
great deal of free-lance work done in software.  Well, the industry has come
up with some informal standards because the Feds have been giving companies
a hard time claiming that consultants and free-lancers are really employees.
Anyway, the result has been the development of these standards.  They relate
to the value of the work compared to what the developer was paid.  Anyway,
to our lawyers your five grand was laughable.  The result is they set a
royalty of $10 a unit on it."

_"What?"_ Jean almost screamed.

"Yeah," Kelly continued, ignoring the interruption.  "And through the end of
last month, sales exceeded two million units."  She grinned and added, "But
don't worry about a thing, sweetie.  Sales are rising fast.  You might
eventually see some real money."

"But that's... $20 million!" Jean exclaimed.  Then her face fell.   "Oh,
shit!  I'm rich."  Then she brightened, turned to me and said, "Nope.  I'm
not.  You are."  (The fact is it all went into joint accounts so there was
no difference, but for some reason it made her feel better to think that she
had no money.)

Suddenly her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "Oh, no!  I can't be married
today.  I have nothing to wear!"

Just then there was a soft knock on the front door.  Sandy rose from between
my legs to respond.  Opening the door, we saw Kate Callaway with Jack
standing behind her.  She gathered Sandy in her arms and melted her with a
kiss.  Then standing back a bit she looked the girl over carefully and
murmured, "Thank God!  It worked."

"What worked?" Sandy replied, puzzled.

"Putting you where you belong: with your sister, Susan, and Jean and Jim.
My darling, you're utterly exquisite!  And that aura of sadness and despair
that was always around you is gone."  She slowly shook her head and added,
"I couldn't be happier!"

Looking over at Jean she said, "What incredible timing!  I made it back in
time to be your matron of honor with the girls as bridesmaids.  How
incredibly neat!"

"But I don't have anything to wear!" Jean wailed.  By this time tears were
streaming down both cheeks.

Kate whispered something to Sandy then raised her voice slightly and said,
"Susie, don't you think you've been feasting on your mother's cunt long
enough?  Why don't you help your sister get a few things?"

At that Susie rose from her knees, went to Kate and gave her a truly loving
kiss and then followed Sandy out the door.

Only then did I get a really good look at her.  Kate was utterly
magnificent!  Now she had a deep tropic tan as did Jack.  Moreover, I have
never seen either of them look as good as they did that day.  Jack is as big
as I am and now his muscles were bulging to an even greater degree than
mine.

We chatted for a few minutes and learned that Kate was pregnant.  "It's been
a royal pain, too," she complained.  "I was counting on keeping track of the
time by my periods... but I never had one!  Jack must have caught me that
first week."

"Jim caught me too," Jean said very softly.

Kate whooped.  "Spectacular!  Oh, darling!  It couldn't happen to a nicer
couple.  And you couldn't possibly look better than you look right now."

"Oh, yes I could," Jean argued.  "I could look like you.  Kate Callaway, you
are utterly exquisite!  Being shipwrecked on a tropic island seems to have
agreed with you."

Kate looked puzzled and whispered something to Jack.  Jean utterly cracked
up with laughter.  Obviously, she had heard what Kate had whispered but the
rest of us -- Merrilee, Kelly and me -- had not.  Kate pointed to herself
and then formed her lips in an O.  "Golly!  I'm sorry, Jean.  When you
mentioned 'Kate Callaway' I had forgotten that that's  my name."  She paused
and then added, "I thought my name was Let's Fuck.  That's really all Jack's
said to me for months."

At that point we all cracked up while Kate just giggled.

The girls returned carrying a number of garments on hangars covered with
plastic.  One of them proved to be an utterly magnificent wedding gown
that -- no surprise -- fit Jean perfectly.  There were also two bridesmaids'
dresses in a blue that was a perfect match for the girls' blue eyes.  Kate
said that Jean was easy; it was the girls who had been the challenge.
Because they were still growing, she had to guess a bit at what their sizes
would be on the wedding day.

There were three other surprises.  I guess they were all wedding gifts.  The
first was a pair of adoption papers all set to be filed on the day following
the wedding recording the adoption of Sandra Smith Callaway and Susan Smith
Callaway by Jean Peters Dawson and James Russell Dawson.  The two girls just
shrieked with happiness.

The second gifts were United airline tickets first class from Chicago to
Maui for four.  The girls were coming with us.  All arrangements had been
made for a suite at the Kapalua resort for all four of us.  "You've got two
bedrooms..." Kate murmured.  "Oh, well, I suppose the girls might want the
closet space and the extra bath that goes with it."

Then she added, "I'm sorry, Jean.  You'll have to live with your virginity
until the day after tomorrow when you arrive in Kapalua.  Think you can hold
out?"  Then she giggled and it was a lovely musical sound.

Finally she looked at the four of us -- Susan was now sitting on Jean's lap
while Sandy was on mine -- and said, "You four have to be the most
uninquisitive people on the face of the globe.  Didn't you ever wonder
what's been going on behind that big fence on the other side of the pool?"

Like a dimwit I replied, "Somebody's building something over there from the
sound of it.  But with the high fence we never looked."

"That, dear James, is the future home of Jean and James Dawson.  Do you know
them by any chance?"

Jean just shrieked, dumped Susan, jumped to her feet and hugged and kissed
Kate.

Sandy had the best line though.  In a stage whisper loud enough to carry to
the corners of the room she said, "This is neat, Dad!  Look at all the
chances you'll have to make brown-nose points with the company's owners!"

Everyone cracked up over that one.

At that point it was off to bed.  Susan was sleeping with Merrilee while
Sandy decided to sleep with Kelly.  For Jean and me it was the finest
lovemaking ever, particularly when she pointed out that I probably couldn't
take her between the wedding and our flight to Maui.

* * *

The wedding was simply lovely.  There was only one surprise.  The previous
night Jean had gone off after all the arrangements had been set but before
we retired to our bedroom.  It had only taken a few minutes.  At the wedding
I found out who she had called: Lieutenant John Richards of the Chicago
Police Department.  He was there in his full dress uniform acting as the
father of the bride to give the bride away.

I learned later that he was waiting in the back of the church for the bridal
party to arrive.  When he saw Jean he just softly whistled and said, "Never
have you looked so beautiful, Miss Peters."

Jean just raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

"You're gorgeous, Jean!" he exclaimed.

She rushed into his arms and gave him a loving kiss.  "And you're
significantly responsible for this, I hope you realize."

"Blaming others already, huh?" he asked with his eyes dancing.  "But what
did I do this time?"

"You asked me why I wanted to ruin four lives.  Jack, I had been so focused
on myself, it had never occurred to me that anyone else would even care.
Anyway," she said turning toward the girls, "these are our daughters, Sandra
and Susan.  And I couldn't be prouder of any two girls in the whole world.
They're simply wonderful!"

"Oh, Jean!" he exclaimed after looking over the girls carefully.  "There
couldn't be two more beautiful young women alive in the world today, either.
They're simply gorgeous."

The girls beamed and kissed Jack Richards.  When he finished, the power of
their kisses was so great he could hardly stand.

Meanwhile, I was standing at the front of the church with Jack Callaway, my
best man.  Suddenly I realized I had no ring.

"Relax," he said.  "I have them."

"Them?"

"Yeah.  There's an engagement ring here, too.  Very short engagement you two
had.  By the way, are Jean's buns black and blue?"

I grinned and replied, "They sure are.  And they're going to be all sorts of
colors before they go away, too."

At that point, the Wedding March began and I looked toward the rear of the
church for the first time.  I was astonished at the number of people
present.  The first to appear was Susan.  She was so happy and proud, she
was effervescent.  And she was incredibly beautiful.  She was followed by
Sandy who appeared more completely happy than I had ever seen her.

As matron of honor, Kate came next.  She was utterly gorgeous in a dress of
a golden color that matched the streaks in her hair.  Coupled with her deep
tropic tan, she was outrageously beautiful.

Finally, Jean appeared on Richard's arm.  My eyes widened when I realized
who he was.  And it was so typical of her, too.  All I can say about Jean at
that moment was that she was, without any question, the most beautiful bride
who has ever lived.  And she appeared to be truly joyous.

When Richards gave Jean to me at the altar, she kissed him.  It was a loving
kiss with modulated power, but it still almost put him out.  He was reeling
to such an extent that Jean had to steady him for a few moments before he
could take his seat in the pew.

But then the ceremony began.  The only thing that was amusing occurred when
Jean was asked if she took me in holy matrimony.  "I do!" she said in a
voice that carried to the corners of the church.  "Oh, indeed I do!" she
repeated.  And it was "love, honor, and _obey."_  She particularly
emphasized "obey" in her vows.

When we had been joined in matrimony and the priest said I could kiss the
bride, I did.  Unfortunately -- or fortunately, depending on one's point of
view -- it was _not_ a typical bridal kiss.  Jean melted in my arms and then
molded her body to mine.  Our tongues danced and linked.  At that point I
think we could have lighted up the whole church and maybe we did.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, an announcement was made inviting
everyone present to a reception at the Callaway's.  Just how a wedding
reception could have been organized in less than 12 hours beginning around
midnight never really registered.  On the other hand, over time I had come
to the conclusion that Kate Callaway could perform miracles.  And she did...
again.  The living areas were decorated in white and in the corner of the
dining room stood an immense -- and beautiful -- wedding cake.

We formed a receiving line with Susan, then Sandy, Kate, Jean, me and Jack
Callaway at the end.  The first thing Jean did when we were lined up was to
come into my arms and melt me with a kiss.  While we had been kissing for
months, our shared kiss at the wedding and this one were like none that had
gone before.  (Although they proved to be a preview of things to come; our
kissing has just become even more powerful and better since then.)

When we finally parted, Jean reminded me, "I'm your mistress, not your wife.
And don't you dare forget!"

"And don't you forget that I can throw you out on the street, naked and
penniless, too."

"Mmm...  That's nice, dear," she murmured as she gently massaged my body
with her own.

"Well, what was that action?" I asked.

She looked at me with her eyes wide.  She was utterly gorgeous as she
whispered, "I was just trying to show you why you really don't want to do
that...  Not yet, anyway."

Lieutenant Richards was the first person to come through the line.  It was
utterly lovely to see Susie reaching up toward him with both arms.  He
picked her up, she wrapped her arms around him and almost leveled him with a
kiss.  "Thank you, sir," she whispered, "for helping to keep our family
together.  I'll never forget what you've done."

Sandy did essentially the same thing.

The surprise came when he met Kate.  They seemed to know each other, at
least slightly.  "Hi, Lieutenant," Kate greeted him with a lovely smile, "we
meet at last."

"Katherine Callaway," Jean demanded, "how do you know Lieutenant Richards?"

With her eyes wide Kate replied, "Because he helped me find you, silly.
That's how."

"And just how did he do that?"

"Oh...  Just a few things..." Kate replied evasively.

"What few things?"

"Nothing much.  Just the magazines and newspapers you read when you were in
jail for prostitution," Kate replied blandly.

"You!... You!... You conniver, you!"  Jean paused as she thought about what
she had learned and what had followed.  "No wonder you never asked me any
questions about my background.  You knew it all already, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"And this whole thing was a set-up, wasn't it?  You expected me to marry Jim
Dawson.  That bullshit about being a sex therapist was all window dressing."

"That's not completely true," Kate protested.  "I knew Jim had no
experience, so he really did need some instruction."

"But you certainly knew how it would end up, didn't you, turkey!"

"Of course," Kate replied blandly.  "Why the hell do you think there was a
wedding gown hanging in the closet?  Why do you think the girls adoption
papers had already been signed by Judge Hall and were just awaiting filing?"
Then she punched Jean in the arm and added, "But with your damned
stubbornness, you almost wrecked the whole thing...  And how's your ass, by
the way?"

Jean had been slowly shaking her head as she finally realized what had
happened.  "It hurts like hell is how it is, if you must know."  Then with
the cutest little grin and her eyes dancing she added, "It's a hell of a
place to find where I've been doing what passes for thinking, though."

Both women giggled at that one.

A beautiful black woman came through the line carrying a baby.  When she
reached Jean, she was beaming.  The girl introduced her husband, Bill
Parker, and I learned that this woman was Angel, one of the women Jean had
managed to get off the street, with her infant daughter, Jean.

The woman just moved away a short distance to be able to see all of Jean.
Slowly she shook her head and announced, "Perfect!  Utterly perfect!"  Then
she rushed into Jean's arms.

Jean melted the woman with a kiss, then oohed and aahed at the infant who
was gurgling happily.  "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, Angel,"
Jean said.

Angel introduced her husband, Bill, a young giant.  "Angel has been telling
me that you're an angel come to earth," he said.  "And you know what?  It
just could be true.  All I know is that there's no one alive who would do
for anyone what you did for her.  You gave her nearly $10,000 and then
served your time scrubbing floors, cleaning bathrooms and every other lousy
job they could think to give you in jail.  And that was every cent you had
at the time, wasn't it?"

Jean just shrugged and replied, "I guess I needed the exercise."

He just shook his head and gave her a check for $10,000 in repayment.  Much
later I learned that Jean pulled a Stephanie: She used the check to get the
Parkers' bank account number and transit code, then transferred $100,000
into it.  Along with the money went an explanation for the transfer: "Bread
cast upon the waters shall be returned a thousand-fold.  But I'm cheap.  I
hope you use it for a house for yourselves and baby Jean."

They did.

The other surprising attendees were Merrilee and six other young women.  Two
were in wheelchairs, and one -- little Amy -- was still connected to IV
tubes and to bottles hanging from hooks attached to the back of the chair.
ML introduced each of them to Jean.  They shook their heads and conceded
that they had been overmatched.

Amy looked Jean over carefully, then looked up at me.  "What an idiot I
was," she said softly.  "Trying to take you from Jean is like taking on an
Abrams tank with a slingshot."  Her eyes filled as she added, "But thank you
both for the most exciting night of my life.  There will never be another
one like it."

We both kissed the girl.  Fortunately, ML was right behind her and caught
her head as she just collapsed in her chair.  When she regained
consciousness, she just sat there for a few moments and then said, "That was
a very mild kiss from each of you, wasn't it?"

Jean and I just shrugged.

"The phrase is often overused, but with you two it fits perfectly: You
deserve each other.  My God!  You would kill any other person alive with the
power of your love...  The way Jim nearly killed me."  She sighed and added,
"But what a way to go!"

Finally, the cake was cut and our family disappeared to dress for our
honeymoon trip.  We left the house in a shower of paper flower petals.

* * *

Art Fleming was waiting for us with the gunmetal-gray Rolls limousine to
drive us to the airport.  As he held the door, I could hear him whisper to
Jean, "I'm delighted that you finally came to your senses."

She just grinned and winked.

When we arrived at O'Hare, I was glad Art knew where he was going, because I
certainly didn't.  He bypassed the usual United Airlines drop-off point and
went to an unmarked area beyond.  There a senior passenger service
representative was standing waiting, along with two skycaps.  In no time,
our luggage was all tagged and disappeared.  Although I've never been sure,
I think the pieces were specially marked as VIP; at any rate, they were the
first items available at the baggage claim area, and all the pieces were
together.

We were greeted by the representative, Carolyn Maloney, and ushered into
United's VIP lounge.  This was something I guess I had heard about but had
never seen.  It's adjacent to United's Red Carpet Club but not a part of it.
And unlike the club, everything in the lounge is on the house.

When our aircraft was ready to board, Ms. Maloney came for us and escorted
us to the gate and aboard the aircraft.  At the time, our flight had not yet
been called for boarding.  Walking down the long O'Hare corridors I squeezed
Jean's hand -- she was holding mine tightly -- and pointed out the girls who
were ahead of us.  Susan was holding on to Sandy's hand.

"She's so cute," I whispered.  "I guess it's because she may never have been
on an airplane before."

"You got that right," Jean replied.  Then gripping my hand tightly she
added, "Neither have I."

I guess that statement did come as a surprise.

The VIP treatment didn't end there.  We were escorted aboard the Boeing 747
and introduced to the senior flight attendant who showed us to our first
class seats in the nose of the aircraft.  Champagne was immediately produced
for Jean and me, while other flight attendants looked after the girls.
After being served, the girl who had attended Sandy and Susan stopped by our
seats -- we were sitting in the row behind them -- to tell us that we had
the two most beautiful girls she had ever seen.  "And they're so nice, too,"
she marveled.  "They're so different from the children of VIPs that we
usually see.  Your girls are as charming and considerate as any I've ever
encountered.  The others are far more commonly obnoxious little bastards!"

While she was speaking to us, I noticed that her eyes were locked on Jean.
She slowly shook her head and added, "I hope you haven't stopped having
children, Mrs. Dawson.  If you don't mind my saying so, you are the most
beautiful woman I've ever seen.  And your girls will be your identical
twins."

The girl really looked funny at that point.  It was all I could do to keep
from laughing.  Clearly, the significance of what she had said to Jean had
just registered, but as it did, it made no sense to her.

"Thank you so much," Jean said.  "And I certainly hope I haven't."  She
grinned and added, "I've decided that my only skill is being a mother,
so..."

The girl left us shaking her head, still trying to sort out what she had
just seen.

Finally the flight was fully boarded and we were pushed back from the gate.
Jean was looking outside the aircraft, fascinated by the activity all around
the giant plane.  After taxiing to the active runway, the pilot rolled out
into takeoff position and advanced his throttles.  As the plane gathered
speed down the runway, Jean was gripping my hand tightly.  I could almost
hear her intake of breath when first the nose wheel came off the ground and
then the main landing gear.  As we smoothly climbed and headed west, she
relaxed and said, "This is really fun!"

* * *

End Part 6 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.

* * *

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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