Grandpa's Summer of Love

The operator asked for an additional twenty-five cents and Ed hollered into the receiver, "sorry Mom, the phone wants more money. I'll call you in a few days," before hanging up.

When he got back to the truck, Chelsea kissed him like he'd been gone for days. "Your parents okay?" she asked in a concerned voice. She already seemed to know him much better than anyone else he'd ever met.

"They'll be fine," Ed shrugged, and really it didn't matter if they approved of her or the trip or anything else. "So did you figure out the map?" he asked with a kiss to her forehead and a hand on one of her pigtails, curling her blonde hair around his finger.

"I think so," she suddenly looked somber. Her little brows were crinkled together, "are you sure you want me to come? I mean, I don't want to be a problem."

Ed scooped her from the seat and settled her on his lap, The big, black steering wheel was against her back. The hot pink shorts she was wearing today were a constant boner and the white tank top was tight and kept her areolas in view. Even though they had made love twice today, Ed could go twice more. He was insatiable.

"You'll never be a problem, Chelsea," he let his hands run over her bottom as he clamped her closer to his cock. There was so much more to say but he wasn't sure if this were the right time.

"Good, because I really love you, Ed," that sticky sweet, little girl voice made him ache. Ed thought he could cum just hearing her talk like that, whispering it in his ear.

It was more important than just one more way she was a perpetual cocktease though. She had read his mind, something that she seemed to be scarily good at.

He moved his hands off her ass. It seemed inappropriate at a sacred moment like this. Their fingers touching, woven together, her hands were so little in his. He looked her in the eye as he finally found exactly what he'd wanted to say since the first time she sat in the truck next to him. "I love you too, Chelsea."

Later that evening, they watched the sunset at the beach wrapped in the blanket that they had first made love on. The air had a chill to it which had created a mist over the ocean. It was still hot as far as Ed was concerned. The Chicago winters had made him immune but Chelsea held her legs with her arms and made herself into a ball. "You cold?" he asked, running his fingertips down one bare shin, "we can go inside the camper."

"No, I like it out here," the wind was in her hair, the light from the last of the setting sun made shadows that danced across her face. Ed wondered how he could ever memorize every little bit of her. "Play your guitar for me," his blonde twisted her cute button mouth into a pink bow.

That's right, the guitar. His big dream of running away with the band had recently gotten more complicated. "You really want me to?" Ed was suddenly shy. "I mean, I'm not really that good."

"I bet you are," she had him locked in her gaze with the mostly green, sometimes blue eyes that drew him to her like a magnet.

Ed opened the camper and grabbed the handle of his used six string. It had been a few days, he hadn't even really thought of the guitar since he'd met Chelsea. He hadn't thought of anything since he'd met her. Not about the guitar, not about going home, not about going anywhere, but he'd have to think about it at some point, wouldn't he?

He sat back down on the sand and strummed a few chords. Ed had always thought that if he could write just one really kick ass song that it would be fate. Then he'd have to drop out of school. It would be foolish not to.

Staring at her blonde hair blowing in the wind, Ed realized that if he wasn't inspired to write about her that he should really just stick to structural engineering. It was just that simple.

Here went nothing.

***

June 1979

They weren't going to make good time, not on this trip. Ed had known it when they left at the crack of dawn from their studio apartment in Rogers Park. Chelsea swore that they'd be fine, she'd be fine, nothing would be different at all. Ed had only nodded and kissed her forehead as he usually did when he couldn't think of what to say to his blonde bride.

But how could anything be the same when she was nine months pregnant?

"Really, honey, we don't have to stop for the night," Chelsea was still trying to convince him as he turned onto the gravel road. The good people of Elsberry had told him, on one of their many pit stops for the bathroom, that a nice couple rented out cabins here and it seemed just as good a place as any to sleep.

Ed parked the Oldsmobile Cutlass outside cabin number 6 and took her tiny hand in his for a moment. He kissed her knuckles and noticed for the hundredth time, maybe the thousandth, that she still wasn't wearing the gold band that he'd bought her. Sure, she used the excuse that her fingers were swollen but she hadn't worn it before either. Chelsea had balked at the ring from the very beginning, telling him with her chin out that it was a symbol of ownership. As if anyone could own her, Ed smiled to himself. "I know we don't have to Chels," he told her between little pecks, "but we were both up early. Maybe we'll just take a little nap and go into town for dinner?"

It wasn't going to be camping this time. First of all, Ed had sold the truck and the camper before Christmas when Chelsea had finally admitted that she'd skipped two periods in a row. Second of all, it wasn't going to be for the summer either. Ed had eight days until he had to get back to his summer job holding a flag for the construction workers who were laying asphalt on the Eisenhower. It was a good job and he couldn't complain, at least not out loud. It was union pay and union benefits and with his new wife about to give birth, Ed needed both.

He exited the driver's side of the car and swung the heavy door shut behind him. The car was sturdy, he'd give it that. His dad had told him it would be a good family car and Ed was on the brink of becoming a family man. He opened the passenger door for Chelsea and watched as she swung her bare legs out of the vehicle. Her dress was short and flowy and covered in pink flowers and Ed knew from her close proximity in the front seat that his wife's panties were wet underneath.

Chelsea had to take his hand to get to her feet. Her belly was enormous but that hadn't changed a thing for her. "Go to town, get some dinner," she winked at him, "maybe a nice girl or two from town."

Pregnancy had done nothing to change Chelsea's sex drive. She was insatiable, sometimes Ed just hoped that he could keep up. "Babe, you sure that's a good idea?" he couldn't help but worry just a little. She was due in two weeks, what if something happened?

Chelsea gave him a devilish grin, "I think it's a fabulous idea. I won't be able to have sex for a month after the baby comes. A whole month, Mr.," she stepped inside the cabin. Chelsea sauntered toward the saggy mattress in the middle of the room. "A whole month and you'll be wishing that you'd fucked a few more girls on this trip."

Ed shook his head. No, he wouldn't wish that, not now and not ever. He loved that she was so wild and untamed. He loved watching her in the throes of another woman's embrace but no matter what occurred in their bed, Ed was only for her. It wasn't something that he said out loud though, it was too traditional for his wife. He sat down next to her and kicked off his sandals. With his right arm around her shoulders and his left hand on her belly, he felt his child kick and then roll. "How's my baby?" he let his hand roam from her belly down to cup her mound through the dress and panties.

His right hand moved from her shoulders to her left breast and Chelsea's head went back, her mouth open. "God, yes, Ed. I'm so horny," his blonde wife whispered as she opened her thighs to give him easy access. She was aching, he could feel her clitoris through the gauzy fabric of her panties, erect and begging for attention.

"I know you are," Ed continued the gentle, back and forth rhythm. Over the last two years, he'd learned how to satisfy her with just his fingers and now it was a matter of pride as well as practicality. Sometimes after a full day of classes and a ten hour shift at the grocery store, or now on the road crew, his cock was too fast to satisfy her. Chelsea needed his mouth and his hands and if she only knew that every inch of him wanted to be for her pleasure.

Chelsea had begun to move her hips to his tempo. "Oh god, Ed, you're so good at that. My milk must be coming in," she shivered as his fingers traced her large nipples through the front of the dress. "My nipples are so sensitive, baby," she cooed. Still, she had more to say about their current circumstances. "You know, nothing's going to change after the baby," she said and then moaned and arched her back a little. Her panties were soaked through and Ed loved feeling her wetness all over him.

"Uh huh," he agreed out loud although he didn't in his head. Ed slipped his fingers over the waistband of her panties and made a hungry noise as he felt her soapy, hot pussy. Her lips were so swollen and open, inviting him right inside, begging for him.

"I mean, I know it's tough right now, with finishing school and both of us working different hours," Chelsea had insisted that she'd work right up to the end at the coffee shop. When her boss sent her home last Friday, he told her not to come back until after the baby came. She had been pissed even though Ed had been begging her to quit for weeks now.

"Uh huh," Ed throbbed in his Levis. His cock could never get enough of her and was jealous that his fingers, his index and middle, had slid inside her hungry entry already.

Chelsea whispered, "oh god," in a husky voice and pushed back onto his fingers. "We're still going to fuck all the time," she panted, "we're still going to have an open marriage. We're still going to be free, baby," she was already so close to an orgasm. It was still surprising how quickly she was aroused and today she was absolutely sloppy wet. His fingers made loud, squishy noises in and out of her and the comforter was already soaked through.

"I know, Chels," Ed whispered as he picked up the pace. He didn't know, not really, how they were going to do any of it, not with a baby around. He did know that she wasn't really trying to convince him anyway, she needed to convince herself.

She quivered, bit her lip and rutted like an animal in heat on his fingers. Chelsea fucked him back faster and faster and the grunts from her belly were about to erupt into a full-blown scream of ecstasy. He thought she was there when she whinnied, "and one day you'll be able to start your own band, honey. I believe in you."

Ed didn't have time to consider the weight of what she said before the orgasm began to rock her body. "Oh God, Ed, my Eddie, oh my love," she murmured, staring up at him as his fingers had their way with her perfect pussy. She gushed, it was an absolute flood of her juices and Ed thought for a moment that he'd like to be doing this while she laid down, naked and he tested that theory about her milk coming in.

Fingering her and drinking her milk, every hair on the back of his neck stood up at just the thought. He'd like to be covered in her sweetness.

Instead of her usual sigh and a shudder that would run down her body from head to toe, which was the usual response that Chelsea had to her first orgasm of many, his wife gripped his hand. "Oh fuck," she breathed hard, "oh fuck, that hurts."

He panicked, "it hurts? Honey, what's wrong?" Ed's heart raced, here they were in the middle of nowhere and something was happening. He knew they shouldn't have left. There were plenty of good hospitals in Chicago. Dammit he shouldn't have listened to her.

Chelsea made two little fists with her hands and shook as something held her body in its grip. When she gasped and let go, she gave him the sigh of relief. "Wow, I don't know what that was," she shook her head, "sorry to rain on your parade, Ed."

Ed realized that she meant it, literally.

There was a rush of fluid down the bed, as if it was pouring from her, as if she were a bucket that had been left under the spigot for too long. The liquid ran from between her legs and rained down the comforter and trickled to the floor in puddles.

"Fuck, Chels, we gotta go to the hospital," he was out of breath and he wanted to panic but instead just rose from the sopping mattress and grabbed the keys for the Buick. Once they were in his jeans pocket, he picked up his wife and began to carry her to the car. There was no time to watch her try to do it herself.

Chelsea tightened up in his arms and the pain must be coming again because she didn't try to punch him or tell him in a small, ferocious voice to put her down. Instead, she just wailed, "fuck, the baby can't be born in fucking Missouri!"

Two hours later, his daughter proved his wife wrong for the first time. Ed could tell by her determined grip around his finger though that it definitely wouldn't be the last.

***

June, 1999

For the last eight years, whenever Heather called Ed at work, it was never good. It was a good thing that Dorothy, his secretary, had raised a brood of five girls so she understood why sometimes he was scared to take a teenage girl's calls. Dorothy made a face and nodded at the blinking light on the phone, "she sounds strange, Ed."

Ed sat heavy in the chair and exhaled as if he were exhausted. Actually he was. Give him a grueling week at C.E. Anderson, hell give him two, but talking to Heather for five minutes was almost always a bigger hassle. He stared at the blinking light for a while. Sometimes when he made her wait, she hung up. "What do you mean, strange?" he asked Dorothy.

She shrugged, who really knew teenage girls? Correction, today was her birthday, she was twenty. She was officially no longer a teenager but he bet this call was some more of her high strung bullshit. He was so glad that his other three children were boys. "Strange, like quiet, not hysterical but serious," Dorothy was trying to help. He knew that sometimes his secretary fielded his daughter's calls and didn't even involve him and for that, Ed knew she deserved a raise.

"Okay, fuck it," Ed muttered to himself before pressing the flashing button. She wasn't going to hang up and if she was pissed off this early on her birthday then all of the plans might change depending on her whim. "Hey, honey, what's up?" he asked in a jovial tone, hoping that Dorothy might have meant strange as in it was strange that his daughter was so happy for once.

"I'm moving out," Heather said in a matter-of-fact tone. No tears, no hysterics, just a flat statement of what was.

Her mother must have really gotten to her, Ed thought to himself. Why, oh why, were the two women in his life constantly at each other's throats? He had a couple of theories but neither were going to solve anything and he usually just chewed them over in the evening by himself with two fingers of whiskey. For a long while, he'd blamed puberty but the boys weren't that far behind and not a peep. "What's wrong this time, honey?" he asked, immediately regretting the use of this time. He'd learned not to suggest that she was always upset, he was supposed to pretend that she was a ray of sunshine.

"Your wife," it was what Heather called her mother that when she was angry with Chelsea.

"What did your mother do?" Ed was almost afraid to ask.

"Kissed Emily," Heather reported with no inflection in her voice whatsoever. She had sounded like this the day that they put the dog down. When she was devastated, his daughter turned into an icicle.

Emily was Heather's best friend. The two were practically inseparable and sometimes Ed felt as if he had two daughters and should get some credit from the neighbors for bringing Emily with them everywhere. "When you say kissed, honey, like she hugged and kissed Emily goodbye?" Ed knew exactly what Heather meant though. He should have seen it coming. Those long side glances at the neighbor girl. His wife always asking Heather if her friend wanted to spend the night and giggled with Emily as if they were girlfriends. Ed watched the three of them sitting under a blanket together not that long ago with Chelsea in the middle and it had crossed his mind that his beautiful bride might be seeking her illicit thrills under said blanket.

The problem was Emily was a ravishing, little beauty. She looked like Snow White, in a perverted, x-rated way. She was a month older than Heather but she'd had the body of a twenty year old ever since they'd moved to the house in Park Ridge. Even Ed had masturbated to Emily's voluptuous bottom peeking out at him from the bottom of her swimsuit and he usually left those types of daydreams for his better half. His daughter interrupted his hazy daydream of Emily in their backyard, the water streaming down the back of her creamy thighs, water he'd like to lick off her slowly. "No, Dad, I mean kissed Emily, like a lesbo kiss. And it's not the first time, she told me."

Ed made a face and was glad that this conversation wasn't in person. It was a face that said everything. Yes of course Chelsea kissed her and of course it wasn't the first time and of course, his wife probably didn't just kiss her either, at least not just on the mouth. He wondered if Chelsea had already made love with the ripe, dark-haired beauty and he thought of all the escapades that they had shared in the past, why was she hiding this one? Maybe because she knew that Ed actually wanted this girl.

"Well, you can't just move out, honey," Ed needed to diffuse the situation and decided to be practical. "You don't have a job, you can't really pay any bills," he was the voice of reason that his father had been so many years ago. "Why don't we all sit down tonight and talk about this?"

"No, Dad," Heather was as stubborn as Chelsea and always had been, maybe even more stubborn. "It's already done. I already called Grandma and she said yes. I'm staying with her the rest of the summer."

He wondered just how much of the story his daughter had delighted in telling his mother. Shit, well there were upsides to this, as embarrassing as it was to have Heather air their dirty laundry. Without Heather in the house maybe his wife would return to her past softness and light. Maybe with just the boys around, they could even get away for a few days. Jake, Chris and Evan just needed food, the rest was on autopilot.

Fuck it, maybe he and Chelsea could go on their almost permanently put on hold road trip that they had put off for so long that neither of them could really reliably remember the plan. He hoped that he sounded sufficiently sad and disappointed when he asked, "you're not even going to be home for your birthday tonight, Heather?"

"I'm having my birthday, just at Gram's house," his daughter was rubbing it in, using that imperious tone that made him want to shout at her like her precious Gram used to do with him.

He was going to lie, which Ed wasn't fond of but lately, he'd found with both Heather and Chelsea, it was a matter of survival. "Well, we're going to miss you, sweetheart."

***

None of the lights were on downstairs when Ed got home at 5:50 p.m. like he had every night for at least ten years. With four children, the house was never silent. Back when they'd first moved in and Chelsea and Heather hadn't declared war yet, it was almost always a house of laughter.

Not so much lately, but still, it was never a house of silence. Ed called out, "hey guys, I'm home." Nothing. Not only was there not a light on but there was nothing cooking on the stove. There was no cake on the counter, no decorations up outside. She really must have gone through with it.

Ed left his briefcase at the bottom of the stairs and slipped off his loafers. If he had the house to himself tonight, he absolutely wouldn't mind kicking back in the recliner in the family room. He would order a pizza and have a few beers and maybe right before he passed out like that, he would have figured out what to do to patch things up.