Death By Fucking Ch. 12

“It’s an extension of my ‘chemical attractors’ theory, I think. It has to do with you and me and Donnie having this attraction that seems to go beyond logic, beyond reason. Well I think that the genetic makeup of the three of us combined in such a way that the girls and I have a biological rapport, the ability for our minds to touch, somehow. Who am I, Uri Geller or John Edwards? I know what happens. I don’t know why.”

Donnie said, “Well what happens?”

“I can feel their emotions. I call it telempathy. We are in some sort of empathetic rapport with each other. They feel me when I try to project to them. Maybe they feel me before I try to project to them. How should I know? We’re talking about five month old babies who have yet to say ‘mama’. I certainly can’t have a discussion with them about empathetic projection, now can I?”

Donnie and I were both flabbergasted; and maybe a bit skeptical, given the nature of the claim. We’ve been aware of the rapport between Andrew and the girls. Well this explanation is as good as any. But he knew them before they were born? Please.

“So how do you keep them from crying?” Donnie asked.

“I just try to project a feeling of love and comfort. I let them know that we understand what they want and are going to give it to them. It’s my understanding that young babies cry to let their mothers know they need something. They usually cry until they get it – food usually. But the girls know that what they need is coming and don’t need to cry anymore. That’s my theory, anyway.”

Donnie and I were both moving our mouths but nothing was coming out. Finally I spit out, “My God! No wonder they calm down when you are with them. But how? How does it work?”

Andrew had seven months to figure this one out. Knowing him he has a theory. I just can’t believe he kept quiet about it for so long.

He said, “Sorry for holding out on you, but I wanted to be sure you saw there wassomething going on between the girls and me before opening up with you. I didn’t want the guys with the little white coats to come and take me away.”

“I’ve read stories about telepathy, things like that. The explanation is always that man only uses a small percentage of his available brain power. Since from an evolutionary point of view, that is an impossible proposition – if we didn’t need it, it would never have evolved – they further claim that telepathy (or whatever other special power is being used) was once used by man but then lost, though the ability remained, just lying dormant.”

“Naah! Sorry, but I just don’t buy that explanation. Those people who say that man only uses a small percentage of his available brain power are banking on the fact that science is still learning about the brain. Just because we don’t know what a part of the brain is used for, doesn’t mean it isn’t being used. Besides which, I’m pretty sure that current science has closed a lot of the gap about brain utilization. What they thought was just extra capacity back in the 1950’s now is something vital and obvious in 2004.”

“So where does that leave me and the kids? Have you ever heard of the term ‘exaptation’? It’s a term that refers to something that evolved to perform one function, then was seized upon to be used for an entirely different function. The classic example is bird’s feathers. How could bird feathers evolve? When the first birds or semi-birds flew, they already had feathers. Evolution doesn’t plan in advance. Evolution doesn’t plan at all. So how could birds evolve feathers for flight before they had flight?”

“The obvious answer is: feathers weren’t evolved for flight. They were evolved to provide insulation, maybe, keeping the animal warm. It was only later that one of those creatures that had evolved feathers – a dinosaur of course – happened to work its way to a point where it started to fly. The feathers made it easier, but they were there for a totally different purpose.”

“Now let’s talk humans. Did you know that man is the only mammal that can’t drink and breathe at the same time? Well, there is an exception, and you see it about every four hours. Babies can drink and breathe at the same time. But after about the age of two a human’s larynx drops down and suddenly we can’t drink and breathe – one or the other, not both. Now what kind of an adaptation is that? It doesn’t make much sense. It seems kind of counter-evolutionary to make man vulnerable like that.”

“But guess what. Because the larynx is low in the throat, man can make sounds that other animals are incapable of making. We can make the complex noises that developed into human speech. Other animals can make a limited range of noises, but man’s ability to create noise is limitless.”

“So the larynx dropped in order to facilitate human speech, right? Wrong, probably. The larynx dropped hundreds of thousands of years before speech was developed, probably. Sorry for all of these ‘probablies’, but I’m on shaky ground here. As far as I know, paleontologists can only guess why the larynx dropped. But because it did, later humans were able to use it for the purpose of speech, regardless of its original evolutionary function.”

“Now you see where I’m going with this, I bet. The ability to use telempathy (if that is what we are using) is an exaptation. The almost limitless functionality of the human brain has developed another function, using a portion of the brain that was developed for another purpose altogether, maybe combining several sections of the brain to create this new functionality.”

“How the hell should I know, Dee Dee? You want a theory, I give you a theory. I know I don’t want to make this information general knowledge or the CIA or NSA or the White House will descend upon us, dissect one of the babies’ brains (or worse, dissectmy brain) and put the rest of us in solitary confinement until they figure out how to use this as a weapon against their enemies, foreign or domestic.”

“If this information ever comes out, it will be at a time of our choosing. If this function breeds true, that is if all of our descendants have this ability, we will wait until it’s afait accompli. There will be so many of us that we can fight back. They can’t stop us and they need us.”

“How’s that for a theory?”

Donnie and I were looking at each other in wonderment. Andrew never ceases to amaze us. How did we link up with this person? If he isn’t the ‘next generation’ there is none. As usual, Andrew’s theory included consequences and responses to consequences. Our lovely boy always thinks several steps ahead.

Donnie asked him “How do you know that it isn’t telepathy? The children don’t have language yet, so how do you know that when they start to think in words you won’t be able to hear each other?”

Andrew just shook his head. “Yeah, I’ve wondered about that one too. Are these girls going to be able to read my mind? How do you feel about a one year old using the word ‘fuck’ in every other sentence? I’m embarrassed to admit that I think the word a lot more than I say it.”

Donnie and I just started to laugh. Our babies are going to be corrupted by our husband! If they have access to any mind in the world, his is the one we would want them to have access to. Maybe they will be able to figure him out.

Andrew’s Story: Little Ones

Emma and Ella, Eddie and Edie: two sets of twins that could be quadruplets. No one else can tell them apart, not even their mothers. Me, however, I have no problem with any of them.

We’ve got something going, those four little angels and me. I knew it when they were in the womb. They could sense me. They read me like a book even then, and I could feel them responding to me somehow. It was telempathy.

Now they are two years old, precocious to a fault; the kind of kids you want to hug one minute and then ring their pretty little necks the next. And the little tykes can read my mind. It’s very disconcerting.

The other day we were just out for a drive. Donnie stayed home to do some work. We strapped all four little ones into their car seats in the back seat of that monster car we were forced to buy to accommodate them.

We were riding down the road, and I was minding my own business. I never said a word, I swear, when some guy passed me in the passing lane, dove right in front of me and then slowed down.

I like to drive with cruise control. It relaxes me. Nothing pisses me off more than to be forced to hit the brake because of someone else’s irresponsible driving. But I kept my mouth shut. I never said a word.

A little further up the road we came to a light. Mr. Inconsiderate was making a left hand turn so we pulled up beside him.

That’s when Emma rolled down her window turned to the other car and yelled “YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!”

Mr. Inconsiderate just gaped at the blonde haired angel with the dimples who was giving him the finger. I quickly pulled away as soon as the light changed.

Ella said, “Mommy, what’s a fucking idiot?”

Dee Dee was looking daggers at me by this time. She said, “That’s anyone driving a car directly in front of your father.”

Of course, that’s when Eddie had to come out with “Mommy, why don’t you pull up your skirt so Daddy can look at your pussy?”

Dee Dee’s turned bright red. I thought she was going hit me. I swear I never said a word. I was trying to will my little girls to cut it out, quiet down, get off of it.

Edie asked “Mommy, what does ixnay, ixnay mean?”

I threw my hand up in the air in surrender and just gave Dee Dee an apologetic look. Hey, I think what I think. It’s my opinion that if you don’t actuallysay it, then it doesn’t count. Of course now I have four little cherubs who like to repeat every thought that goes through my fucking head.

Emma decided to compound the problem. “Mommy, are you horny too?”

Ella, as always, asked “What’s horny?”

Dee Dee finally couldn’t resist and broke out laughing. Whew! I was getting a little uncomfortable there. I saw her slowly inch her skirt up and start to spread her legs until I could see ALL the way up. God, she wasn’t wearing panties! I tried to keep the car on the road, but it wasn’t easy.

My favorite little tattletale, Emma asked “Mommy, what’s a fantastic piece of ass?”

Eddie chimed in “What’s a pussy, Mommy?”

Edie said “Daddy’s getting hard again.”

I pulled the car over and came to a halt. I turned around to these four little things who continue to drive me nuts and said “Will you get out of my head!”

I’ve just got to find a way to keep these kids away from my head or I’ll never be able to get away with anything. What a horrible thought.

Emma said, “Daddy’s only fun to be with when you’re not around, Mommy. When you’re around he only ever thinks about getting laid.”

I said “Emma how old are you?”

She said “I’m two years old!”

I said “Do you want to live to be three?”

“Yes.”

“Then shut the hell up!”

Ella said “Oh, Daddy said a bad word! Shame on you!”

Help me God. Please help me.

Donnie’s Story

I love spending time with Andrew and the children. When the children are around, Andrew doesn’t say much. The children do his talking for him. It’s very funny. Andrew seems to be resigned to it.

When the girls started talking at eighteen months, they were speaking in complete sentences. I’m not sure how much they understand of what they say, but they say quite a lot.

We were in the den on a Sunday afternoon. Andrew was watching the ball game as usual, with a Big Mac and a bottle of beer. He acknowledges his own shortcomings related to the Big Mac. He knows he shouldn’t be eating it. But it’s a tradition. Andrew takes his traditions seriously.

The girls were on the floor of the den, playing with some Legos. They are four lovely little ones with blond hair, blue-green eyes, and dimples. Their voices are so sweet when Andrew’s words come out of them that it’s almost shocking.

I’m afraid that Doris has been left speechless more than once when Emma dropped a four letter word in front of her. Emma is the troublemaker amongst our daughters. I’m sure she knows what she should and should not say. She just loves getting a reaction from us. That’s the reason she is the only one I can pick out among the four of them. It’s not how she looks, it the way she says things.

Andrew has finally started to watch the Falcons. His devotion to the Browns verged on self-destruction.

So we were in the den, Andrew watching the game, the girls playing, me watching them all.

Emma was trying to put two pieces together when she yelled “Throw the fucking ball, Michael!”

Another one said “Why should Michael throw the fucking ball?”

A different one answered. “If he gets hit he might get hurt. Then the Falcons would be the same as the fucking Browns.”

Andrew’s mouth never opened. His eyes never left the TV. He acted like he was oblivious to all of this.

One asked me, “Momma, what are you doing at half-time?”

I looked at her. What was I supposed to say? “I’m doing whatever your father wants to do at half-time, just as always.”

Emma said confidently “They’re going to get laid.”

Andrew finally spoke up. “Emma, you’re embarrassing your mother. I’ve told you about that. Do us a favor, will you? Leave us alone at half-time. Go bother Momma Dee Dee. I’m sure she will love to have four little brats annoying the hell out of her for half an hour. You can come back and annoy me after the half.”

Emma said, “We don’t annoy you Daddy. You think we’re funny!”

Daddy said, “But you will annoy me if you don’t let Momma Donnie and I alone at half-time, won’t you?”

Emma smiled. “Don’t worry, Daddy. We’ll take care of Momma Dee Dee and you can take care of Momma Donnie.”

She is a precocious little brat. I can’t wait till she is a teenager and starts to date. Then we are going to embarrass her so much! Until then I’ll have to grin and bear it.

Half time finally arrived. It was a close game, so I knew that we only had a half an hour. Andrew never likes to miss the second half of a close game.

The girls went out to the kitchen where Dee Dee was puttering around making dinner. Doris had come out of her cave for a change and was sitting at the table, occasionally offering criticism of Deirdre’s methods. When the little ones went running into the kitchen, Doris made a hasty retreat. Dee Dee probably breathed a sigh of relief. Doris can be a bit of a trial when she thinks we aren’t doing something right.

Andrew took my hand and we kissed. It’s always like the first time when we kiss. Well, not exactly the first time. It’s always like the first time after Andrew knew who I was. He puts so much love into his kisses. We have the little ones draining our energy, but there always seems to be enough energy left over for love.

The children just don’t bother Andrew a bit. I mean they aren’t a strain for him. He lets them play in his office as he programs. They are with him almost from the moment he gets up until the moment they go to bed. They want to be around him and he loves their company.

It makes it easier for Dee Dee and me to survive. Most mothers of twins are worn to a frazzle. We have essentially quadruplets, and still are pretty calm, relatively well rested. I think it’s a conspiracy between Andrew and the children so that Andrew can continue to have plenty of sex. The man is insatiable.

But it is because of us, Deirdre and me. He finds us irresistible. I’m starting to believe him: weare irresistible. At least for him, we are irresistible. We don’t care what other men think.

It took us months to get our bodies back to where they were before. Our weight is back down to 108, right where it was before we got pregnant. We have stretch marks, but Andrew likes them, he says. Makes us look lived in, he says.

Isn’t it odd that even our stretch marks are almost identical? Dee Dee and I are joined at the hip, figuratively.

Andrew and I went into the bedroom. When we are alone together, Andrew is like a poet of love. He speaks so eloquently of his love for me. He makes me feel like a princess. This young boy who is our lover cares for us so. I’ve always feel like I live in a cocoon of love.

We slowly undressed each other. His chest is beautiful. There is barely any hair on it, and yet it is so defined and muscular. He’s a very strong man, but with us and the babies he is so gentle.

I’ve seen him exasperated, I’ve seen him frustrated. But I’ve never seen him angry. He will not lose his temper with any of us. Deirdre and I are a bit more mercurial. We have yelled at him upon occasion, usually in regards to his eating habits. But Andrew never yells.

When our clothes are off, Andrew picks me up in his strong arms and carries me to the bed. I feel like a child in his arms, protected and loved. And horny. Do children feel horny? I don’t think so.

He stands by the bed holding me in his arms. One hand starts to explore my body, feeling by bottom, working its way behind my knees, massaging my thighs. His touch leaves fire wherever it passes.

He places me down on the bed and crawls beside me. He must have more than two hands, because they are everywhere. My body strains against his, trying to increase our areas of contact. His skin is soft and smooth, wonderful.

His hands are playing with my breasts, now restored to their lowly ‘A’ cup size. He doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to love our breasts.

I love it when he tweaks my nipple, then takes it into his mouth. My body arches to go deeper. It’s an involuntary reaction. By now most of my reactions are involuntary. Andrew has total control of my body and he takes me wherever he wants me to go.

I am wet and wanting, needy. I can hardly stand it. I need him to put his hard cock into me. It feels so huge, so filling as it slides in slowly. Somehow he knows how to rub my clitoris as he rocks himself in and out of me.

We start with a slow and loving rhythm, but as the pressure mounts our movements quicken. I feel that huge thing slamming into me. Andrew has cupped my chin with one hand as he draws my lips to his. We are kissing, his tongue playing with mine.

His control is unbelievable to me. I have no control. I am under his control. He drives me wild with his lovemaking. I am building to a peak so quickly! Oh God, how I love him! I’m screaming. My climax is immense. I’m on the verge of passing out.

I feel him ejaculate deep inside my pussy. It triggers another climax from me. I can’t take anymore. I collapse on the bed, exhausted and satiated. He makes me so happy.

Andrew kisses my nose, then my eyelids, then my cheeks, and finally my lips. He says, “Thank you baby. What are you doing after the game?”

I groaned. “I’m looking after the children. Go ask Dee Dee what she’s doing.” A woman can only take so much.