My Loving Family Ch. 04

Synopsis: Willa, now widowed, was raped by her stepson and, taking her daughter Ruth, left the farm and ran away to Winnipeg where she called Sarah.

*****

I was raised by a single mother in a small apartment in Winnipeg. Mine was an ordinary childhood except we were poor. In the wintertime, I remember I was almost always cold.

I was a bright girl and graduated from high school with honors. That led to a small scholarship at a local college. I managed to complete nearly three years of my program before we, my boyfriend Graham and I, realized I was pregnant.

Since we were both students, we had very little money. My mother had passed away two years earlier (for which I was grateful because she would have been scandalized to learn about my condition). Graham's people were barely able to pay his tuition, so our planning for the baby meant one of us would have to drop out of school and find a job.

Graham was ahead of me, so it seemed only logical that I should go to work. After he graduated, it would be my turn to return to school, at least on a part-time basis. I found a receptionist's position at Bose, Rothchild.

In due course, Nonnie was born. Graham and I had kept postponing our wedding, but we were as happy in our tiny apartment as newlyweds, and I knew it was just a matter time before he made an "honest woman" of me.

Nonnie was a happy baby, content to lie on her back for hours playing with her toes. She was truly the light of my life, or perhaps I should say, our lives. I knew Graham cared as deeply for her as I did. Or at least I thought he did.

He graduated on schedule, but instead of seeking local employment, went straight away to a stock broker's position in Toronto. "Just wait, dearest, until my commissions begin rolling in. Then we'll be on easy street and together forever." He had a way a tickling my neck that was very distracting, and somehow, every time he said that, he'd tickle me and I'd forget to ask him to be more definite. I wonder how many other gullible girls have fallen into that trap?

At first, Graham wrote to us every day, glowingly describing the firm, the partners, and his wonderful prospects. However, whenever I'd ask him to contribute to Nonnie's support, he'd either ignore my request or promise that he'd put a check in the mail "next week." Next week, of course, never came.

A year went by. A year when we were nearly as poor as I was in my own childhood. A year of frustrating promises that never materialized, and finally a dull realization that Graham had closed the book on his college "fling" with me, and was no longer interested in his little family. Even though we had not married, I still clung to the hope that we could be reunited.

Almost exactly a year after he left, I bundled little Nonnie up for a train ride to Toronto. If he wouldn't come to us, then clearly we had to go to him. I thought even if he had lost interest in me, that when he saw our baby, he would remember his responsibilities.

Traveling any distance with a baby is always very exhausting. The trip from Winnipeg to Toronto particularly so, since it required almost a full 24 hours. Sitting up all night in a coach while trying to prevent the baby from disturbing other passengers was almost more than I could handle. Thus, I was groggy when, at last, we arrived in the big city.

It was about nine o'clock in the morning when I found a telephone booth and after searching the directory, found Graham's number and dialed it. I was sure he would be at his apartment, since it was a Saturday morning. The phone rang, and then I heard a young woman's voice. "Hello?"

I gently hung the receiver back on its hook, took a deep breath, and on shaky legs, made my way to a bench. As you could imagine, I was more than shocked; stunned might be a more accurate description. Yet what did I expect? Was it reasonable of me to assume that because I was playing the game straight that he would do the same? After all, I had Nonnie, while he, theoretically at least, had no one.

More urgently, as the surprise wore off, I had to consider what to do next. Should I confront him and his girl friend? Or should I quietly retreat to Winnipeg and pretend someone else had made that fateful telephone call?

As you'll learn when you hear the rest of my story, I seldom retreat quietly. Picking Nonnie up again, I stepped out of the train depot and flagged the first cab in line. I don't remember much about that cab ride because my stomach was in knots and I feverishly rehearsed first one scenario, then another. But even in my wildest imagination, I could never have guessed the surprise I was about to receive.

The apartment house where Graham lived seemed a bit old fashioned, which suggested that its tenants would be living modestly. His apartment was on the second floor. I climbed the stairs and paused for a moment to catch my breath and hopefully quiet my fluttering pulse. Number 4 was directly across the hall. Taking a deep breath, I resolutely pressed the doorbell button.

It seemed an eternity -- indeed, I even had an insane impulse to turn and run -- before the door opened and I stared into the eyes of a very pregnant statuesque redhead wearing a revealing housecoat. "Yes?"

This was all wrong. Graham should have answered the door! What should I say? "Is Graham here?" seemed inane, almost foolish. Of course he was there! On the other hand, "I'd like to speak to Graham" seemed harsh.

Just then, Graham's face appeared behind the redhead. "My God! Where did you come from, Sarah?"

The redhead looked perplexed, especially after Graham invited us in. Silently, he ushered us into the sitting room. I had expected at least a welcoming hug and a kiss, even with his girl friend standing to one side. I had not expect to be treated like a distant cousin.

We sat facing one another. Graham was decidedly older than the enthusiastic young man who had left Winnipeg a scant 12 months earlier. I thought I detected imbedded worry lines in his face. He spoke first.

"You're looking just as beautiful as ever," he said with an obviously forced joviality.

There seemed only one way to respond. "I don't understand, Graham. You're acting almost as if you're unhappy to see your fiancee and your baby. You do remember her, don't you?"

I was surprised when the redhead perched herself on the arm of Graham's chair. I had expected her to at least remain in the background if not leave the apartment. She seemed almost defiant.

Graham seemed to be groping for words. "Of course I remember her," he said. But things have changed." He paused, then blurted, "There is no nice way to tell you, Sarah, but you see, Tammy, here, is my wife!"

I felt suddenly as if I had been kicked in the stomach. I'm sure I might have fainted had I not been seated. "How. . .? Ahh, ahh, what did you say?" was the best I could manage.

"Tammy and I were married about six months ago; shortly after . . ." Graham looked meaningfully toward her prominent stomach.

A girl friend, even a live-in mistress, I might have been able to work myself around -- but this was the ultimate betrayal! I was suddenly very angry. 'Never forget, Mister, your name is on her birth certificate!" Rising, I heard myself say, "You may be able to duck out on me -- but you can bet your ass, you'll be paying child support for the next 18 years. Your new wife," I nearly spat the word, "will have to make do with what's left!"

Gathering Nonnie to my breast, I stormed out of the apartment. I don't know when I've been more angry. In a way, I suppose anger was more preferable than the sick despair I began to experience after checking into a hotel near the train station, because I must have cried for hours in the privacy of our hotel room. All my hopes and dreams, all my beautiful plans for the future, were suddenly trashed.

Nonnie and I had a late supper in the hotel dining room, and after returning to our room, I reflected on a bitter irony. I was raised by a single parent, and now it seemed likely that poor little Nonnie was destined to carry on the tradition. However, there was a difference. My father had died. Nonnie's father was alive and well. With that thought firmly in mind, I began to search the yellow pages in the phone book for a lawyer.

The showdown with Graham had occurred on Saturday. The next train to Winnipeg would leave Monday afternoon, so Nonnie and I spent Sunday window shopping and admiring the big city. Shortly after eight o'clock on Monday morning, I got an early appointment to see a lawyer. That afternoon, we boarded the train for an unhappy ride back to Winnipeg.

On that trip, I had something of an epiphany. As I sat holding Nonnie on my lap, watching the Ontario landscape flow past my train window, it occurred to me how foolish I had been to waste a year of my young, vital life planning for a future that did not exist. More than that, the experience with Graham left an invisible but indelible mark on my psyche.

I also knew, without even thinking about it very much, that it would be a long time before I trusted another man. On the other hand, now that I was free of my obsession with Graham, I actually found myself getting moist as I speculated about a man sitting across the aisle, frankly wondering how skilled he was with his tongue and fingers and -- of course -- how well endowed he might be.

Shaking my head to clear it of those unbidden thoughts, I turned my attention to Nonnie, who was becoming restless and obviously needed changing. Upon my return with the baby from the lavatory, I found I had company. A young man about my age was carelessly sprawled across the facing seat, ostensibly reading a magazine.

I tried to ignore him as I turned away to open my blouse so I could feed Nonnie as unobtrusively and modestly as possible. However, even though I shielded my exposed breast under Nonnie's burping towel, and never looked up, I nevertheless felt his eyes on me and that, combined with Nonnie's vigorous and noisy assault on my nipple caused endless ripples of tiny lightning sparks to descent into my delta, and the moistening I had experienced earlier now became an unpleasant, aching emptiness.

Despite my resolve, almost involuntarily, I glanced up and saw him openly staring at my partly exposed breast. Suddenly angered by his unwarranted invasion of my privacy, I snapped, "Haven't you anything better to do than stare at a woman feeding her baby?"

I spoke more loudly than I intended, and was terribly embarrassed to see heads in adjoining seats turn to stare at me. The older man sitting across the aisle leaned over and spoke to the young man. "I'd suggest you find another place to sit before I have to call the conductor," he said in a pleasant tone.

My young tormentor began to frame a reply, then retreated. He turned to me. "Sorry if I upset you, Mam," he said. He stood, and holding his magazine, wandered up the aisle looking for another place to sit.

I relaxed, closing my eyes, as I enjoyed Nonnie's rhythmic pull on my nipple. When she emptied one breast, I offered the other one but she was satisfied for the moment. I put her head on my shoulder and patted her gently until I was rewarded with her after-lunch belch. Then I laid her across my lap and put myself back together.

"I hope you didn't mind when I interfered just now." Startled, I looked up. My middle-aged benefactor was standing in the aisle, looking anxiously down at me.

I smiled. "Of course not, I'm grateful. Sometimes I wonder where they learned their manners." Then I remembered my own, and invited him to sit where the young man had lounged previously.

I now recognized his Australian accent. "My name is Sarah," I offered.

"My friends call me Jack."

"Are you on vacation?" I asked.

"No, this is a business trip," he replied.

"I don't mean to pry," I said, "but I'm naturally curious about strangers and I hope you don't mind if I ask what you do?"

"I'm a mining engineer," Jack said. "My mates and I have a nice little prospect that is worth opening up. The problem, as always, is money." He made a wry face. "I'm going to Winnipeg to talk to a bunch of investment bankers."

"You are? What a coincidence!"

Jack gave me a curious look. "Don't tell me you're an investment banker!"

I had to laugh at that. "Not exactly," I said. "But I work for an investment company. Mining is one of the things they do." Later, I would try to remember if I had mentioned the firm's name.

Before much longer, Jack moved to sit beside me. Then, despite my protests, he bought sandwiches and steaming cartons of coffee for us from a food peddlar who came aboard the train at one of our many stops. "You've got to eat," he gently reminded me, looking meaningfully at Nonnie's sleeping form.

Somehow, as the landscape outside our window darkened, I discovered my head was resting comfortably against his arm. Twice, I entrusted him to look after Nonnie while I went to the lady's loo, so it seemed only natural.

I must have dozed. When I woke, I smelled the comforting odor of tobacco, a male deodorant, and a subtle unidentifiable scent that made my pussy itch. Gradually, I became aware that the material against which my cheek rested was different than the coarse weave that covered the seat.

Jack was holding me and my baby gently against his chest. He felt me stir. "Had a little nap, did you?" he murmured.

Abruptly, I sat up. Only the glow of the carriage's night lights broke the darkness. Glancing around, I saw that most of my fellow passengers had succumbed, as I had. Only here and there did a reading light penetrate the general gloom.

As I stirred and stretched, Nonnie abruptly woke and began to cry. Desperate to prevent her from waking the other passengers, I carelessly pulled my blouse from my skirt, and lifted my bra rather than unhooking it, thus exposing both breasts. Then, as she took a deep breath to announce her frustration and hunger, I popped a swollen nipple into her open mouth. Her cry quickly became a contented gurgle as she began to suck.

"Ah, she's a lucky lass," my seatmate breathed in my ear.

I immediately understood his double meaning and was suddenly conscious of his arm around my shoulder and hand dangling carelessly within inches of my exposed breast. Both nipples began to tingle; one from my daughter's energetic chewing and pulling, and the other in anticipation of an "accidental" touch that I knew was imminent. I felt my panties getting wet.

Several minutes went by while I waited for his touch. In the meanwhile, as the tension surrounding our little world continued to build, I was startled by an assault from a different direction. Nonnie was nursing from my left breast and consequently, I cradled her in my left arm. At a year and a half, she was too heavy to be held for very long unless I could find a position that supported my elbow.

Here, while my attention was divided between Nonnie and the incipient caress I was sure Jack was about to bestow, my elbow rested innocently in his lap. Suddenly, I realized the tip of my elbow was pressing against something in the front of his trousers that was very hard! Unbidden, the famous line, "Is that a flashlight in your pocket or are you glad to see me" popped into my mind, and tense with anticipation and nervous heat, I giggled.

Like a collapsing dam, the sexual tension was suddenly broken. Somehow, it seemed perfectly natural that Jack's hand was firmly cupping my bare breast, his thumb gently rubbing my nipple. He pulled me closer to him, causing my elbow to press more firmly against his erection. Fireworks were going off in my pussy, and to my enormous surprise, when he leaned down to kiss the hair on top of my head, I felt a sudden, violent tidal wave wash through my body. I know my skirt was wet, but somehow it didn't matter.

Oblivious to the wonderful feelings her mother was experiencing, Nonnie continued to suck contentedly at my breast. Careful not to disturb her, I slid my right hand under her and into Jack's lap where I wrapped my fingers around his stiff erection through the cloth covering his lap.

"Wait a sec," he whispered. I felt him lift himself and heard the quiet metallic brrr of his zipper being lowered. "It's all yours, sweetheart." he said.

I worked my hand through his open fly and through the slit in his shorts. My hand closed around his hot, hard penis, and I automatically began caressing it by gently sliding my hand back and forth, feeling it's silky rigidity and irregular, lumpy surface where engorged blood vessels gave it character and substance.

I felt damp and achingly empty. As Nonnie released my nipple and yawned, I felt a sudden impulsive need. I handed her and her towel to him. "You burp her," I whispered as I lowered my head over his lap while gently working his sturdy cock up through his clothing.

I gazed lovingly at the blunt end of his straining member, automatically comparing it with Graham's while slowly sliding his foreskin back, exposing its thick crimson head, glistening in the dim light from the lubricating fluids secreted under that protective covering.

Acting impulsively, I opened my mouth and explored the underside of the head with the wet tip of my tongue. The odor and sharp, astringent flavor sent a thunderbolt into my belly, and without a second thought -- although I had never done this before -- I engulfed as much of his penis in my mouth as I could and I began to suck as industriously as Nonnie had minutes earlier on my nipple, and with even greater hunger.

His foreskin was fully retracted. Careful to prevent my teeth from touching the sensitive mucus membrane covering the end of his cock, I directed it into a pouch in my cheek, all the while stimulating it with my continuously swirling tongue and by pumping his rigid member with my hand.

By this time, I was cupping his balls in my right hand, while pumping with my left. His balls suddenly began to tighten. I swirled my tongue around the head of his straining cock one last time, and, pulling my head away, caught his seed in the end of Nonnie's towel.

"That was lovely, darlin'," he whispered gratefully. "I wish I could do the same for you, but people might notice."

I couldn't help it. The picture he painted was so ludicrous, I giggled nervously. He misunderstood. "Let's see if we can't work this out," he said with typically Australian daring. I quickly tucked my breasts back into my brassiere, and lowered my blouse. "Here. You take the little darlin' back."

He handed Nonnie back to me. She was sound asleep. I pulled a corner of her blanket over her face to shield it from the dim light in the sleeping coach, and was suddenly aware that my skirt was being lifted and my knees separated. Looking below Nonnie's sleeping form, I saw Jack on his knees with his head beneath my skirt! "No! Not here, Jack!"

He looked up at me with an impish grin. Instead of a sedate businessman in his mid '40s, I saw an obstreperous teenager grinning up at me. "If not here, where? If not now, when?"

Despite myself, I had to smile. "I've got to get some sleep," I said. "Why don't you go back to your seat and do the same?"

We pulled into the train station in Winnipeg right on time. As we stood, preparing to file off the car, Jack offered me his business card and told me the name of his hotel. "Please give me a call," he said. "I'd love to take you to dinner."

I merely shrugged. "We'll see."

(to be continued)