Mrs. Hollister, Bitch

"Oh?"

"And tomorrow I have an appointment with a house designer—that is, if it's okay with you."

Okay with me? Hell, I didn't need a new house, I didn't need a mate—well, more than a couple hours a week—and I sure as hell didn't need to find myself playing Daddy to five or six little boys who looked like me!

"I think what you need is more time to think about it. Let's go in the bedroom and I'll help you think, okay? It's your future, with or without me, and I'm making damned certain it's with me. Come on, now, Honey."

Honey? That was a new one! And think? With Amy doing what I knew she would? To paraphrase one of the national hardware store chain's advertizing: No thinking, just doing. That woman could take your mind off everything except her, and keep it there until you had nothing left for her or the rest of the world.

***

She barely let me revive after that one. Of course, she seldom did, but for some reason this time she seemed more determined than usual. Without much thought—which I had damned little energy for, I'll tell you—I just knew she was still on this house kick she'd been on for a week. I figured my best option was to take control of the situation instead of her leading me somewhere I didn't want to go.

"Honey, I ... ," she began when she looked into my face from where hers lay on my chest.

I beat her too it, gently pressing an index finger to her lips.

"Okay, Mrs. Hollister—Amy. Lets go back to the beginning, clear back to the beginning, okay?"

She nodded, as I knew she would.

"What the hell happened to you, anyway? I never been around anybody so much a bitch as you were."

Tears sprang from her eyes, almost before I got my words out. Now I'd done it!

"I'm sorry, Amy. That was stupid of me."

"No, no, Honey! You're right. I was, and I'm sorry." With that, tears rained down on my chest and she withdrew her gaze from me.

"Honey, I did say were, and I meant it."

"I know,' she whispered without looking up again. "But I'm just not good enough for you. I bitched you, but yet you saved my life. When I think of how I treated you, I wish I'd never been born. And you been so good to me ever since, sweating for hours to get my door open to get me out, calling the EMTs to keep me alive after you found out it was me in there, coming to see me in the hospital and rehab, letting me live with you ever since, and making such wonderful love to me so often."

Well, that made me feel good, but I also felt overwhelmed, you know what I mean?

"And now I know I gotta be even better, since you told me about that girl at work who wants to chain you. She's way better looking than me, and lots younger. I saw her that time we stopped at your office, while you went in to pick up your work? How can I compete with her?"

"Don't have to. You're doing fine."

"Oh, Honey, I hope so, but I wake up in the middle of the night lots of times, sometimes the electric blanket is off and I feel cold—like you're not with me. Oohh!" She shivered.

I reached down and caressed her shoulder. "That better?"

"Yes, but Best is when you're inside me. Please? Now? Can you?"

I didn't know, but I'd give it a try.

"Tell you what, Amy: You get me ready and then sit on me cowgirl style. Then you work me slow and easy and gentle while you tell me about Mrs. Holister before the storm. Can you do that?"

She shook her head. "Can't I just fuck you? I know I can do that much. But if I try to tell you about earlier, I'll probably cry the whole time, and I can't imagine having a woman cry all over you would be very sexy."

"Then, suppose instead you sit on me and work me in slow and easy and gentle, and if you feel like it, you tell me anything you want to."

Amy looked up, now, half giggled and said, "If I only tell you what I want to, it'll just be fuck me Baby, Fuck me."

"Then begin with that."

"You won't mind? I mean, I know you're trying to help me and be nice to me."

"Get up here, get on me, and let's see what happens."

"Oh, Frank, Honey! I love you so much. I'll do the best I can."

"I know," I said as she wiggled just right so she settled onto me and I slipped into her.

She raised up, pulled me out a ways, then settled back down onto me again, squeezing me the whole downward stroke. Really, I could care less if she never said a word about her history. I must have smiled.

"Good," she said. "I like it best when I make you smile."

"What you like best is what I like best."

"Good. You're so sweet to say so. The best thing about not being a bitch anymore is I get to make you smile. I didn't realize what I was missing."

I nodded, and to that she smiled. Or was that a smirk?

"You're fucking a bad little girl, you know?

"How you mean?" She sure didn't feel like a bad little girl to me right now—or ever..

"I fucked Momma's boyfriend. That's how this all started." Yes, that would start it, and I suspected something like that, if it turned out bad, could steer a woman straight down the bitch freeway. She looked down—no, not so much down as deeper into my eyes, I suspected, to see my reaction.

"That's not really true, the way that sounded. I fucked him lots of times 'cause he sort of forced me. Sorry."

I only nodded. If I opened my mouth I likely say something stupid that derailed her off her path.

"Momma found out. But she didn't care much until I came up PG. Then the shit hit the fan. My shit. She rushed right out and found me a boy to marry. I think it was a case of any boy will do. I'd never met him before they married us."

"I gather you didn't like him much."

"Didn't know him before, didn't like him at all. Lousy bastard; lazy, careless, and worthless, too. He and his parents took my baby away right after he was born." Now, here came the tears that had hinted in her eyes since she said her first word about bad girl. "After four years, they divorced me, and never let me see my baby at all, even after that." She finished in sobs and chokes that made her grip on my penis feel absolutely wonderful. I must have smiled, although I didn't do so on purpose. Perhaps that explained why she wanted to give me a crowd of little boy instead of little girl babies.

I tried to look comforting, but doing so didn't help much.

"I'm sorry," Amy said. "It's not your fault. Not your problem. It's all my problem because I didn't stop him. That's what Momma said. All my fault."

"Did you egg him on?"

"I don't think so, but maybe I did,"

"What did you do?"

"I just was nice to him, that's all. I wanted him to like me so he'd marry Momma. I wanted Momma to be happy, and she worried that he'd leave her because of me. So I tried to be what he'd like."

"And he liked you too much?"

"Guess so."

Her face was a mess by now. I reached over, found a tissue on my night stand, and handed it to her.

"Thanks, Frank, Honey. You're so thoughtful and always treat me so good." She dabbed at her eyes and cheeks, then tossed her tears and the tissue off the bed.

I gave her my so? look. She took a deep breath, then put on an expression that said, Well, if he's ever going to throw me out, what I have to say next should do it. Her deep breath sure felt good in the area surrounding my penis!

"Worst of it was, I let him keep fucking me, even after I got PG. That's what pissed Momma off."

What could I say that wouldn't make it worse? So I only moved gently inside her, hoping the good feeling I wanted Amy to have could somehow mitigate this agony she must be feeling.

"Of course that stopped once Benson and I got married. Oh, no, don't think he didn't still try to arrange this so he could fuck me, but I owed Benson something, didn't I? Even if I hated him, too?"

I nodded and kept moving inside Amy.

"Oh, Frank. That feels so good. I wish it had been your baby from the start."

Right now, I did, too.

"How can you be so good, and my ex and his parents been so shitty?"

I shook my head because I had no information and therefore no clue.

"His family was really weird, you know? I think they had what's called a fetish? Maybe several fetishes?"

Again, I nodded.

"I went from fucking one man old enough to be my father, to fucking a different man that old, and his son who was now my husband. Even his mother joined in."

Okay? Did I really want to hear this? I guess I had no choice. I started this, didn't I? I must have let my quandary show on my face.

"Oh, Frank, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"My troubles, again, not yours."

"Amy? Don't."

"Gotta. If you're going to make babies with me, I gotta tell you everything. Not fair otherwise."

I shook my head.

"So? Where was I?" Amy said, looked down, then back up.

"Oh, yeah. My love life with the Hollisters. You ever been fucked by a woman?"

Sure I had. Amy had—at least when you interpreted those words that way.

"No, Frank. I mean stuck things into you? All kinds of things? Made you do things you didn't want to?"

I shook my head. No question there. Amy and I had done lots of things to each other, but all by mutual agreement.

"You'd probably run screaming out of the room. I know I almost did, lots of times but I couldn't."

I was still shaking my head.

"Can imagine your mother-in-law shoving a twelve ounce beer can up your ass after using a speculum on you?"

No, I couldn't. God, wouldn't you rip? But apparently Amy had managed.

"Of course it took her a while—several days—but there I was, serving beer from a can in my ass."

Ouch! Who would want that, anyway? Beer was plenty good enough served in a glass from the counter of a bar.

"Then she started in on my pussy. When I was pregnant, I worried about my baby, but that seemed no concern for her. I think she was trying to abort me, but she did the same things after little Hector was born."

"Didn't your mother step in and help you?"

"Mrs. Hollister was Momma's friend. Thinking back, I wonder if maybe she wasn't fucking Mr. Hollister, too—after her old boyfriend got me knocked up and she ran him off."

"But I mean about the fetish stuff?"

"I think Mr. Hollister liked fucking a big bellied girl. I know Benson did. It's a wonder I ever bore that baby. Everybody domed that poor kid."

"And after the baby?"

"Then they really went after me. You know I had a 2-liter soda bottle in my twat lots of times?"

Gad! That would mean nearly four and a half inches in diameter.

"Yeah, right after I gave birth to Hector. They never let me shrink back to normal."

"Hector must have been one big kid."

"Sure felt like it coming out. But I wouldn't know. They never let me see him."

"Uh? Never let you see him?"

"Took him away. Milked me to feed him, they said, but never let me hold him or see him or anything."

"Kept a baby away from it's mother?"

She nodded.

"And they made me stay big for two years afterward."

"Two-liter soda bottles?"

"Whatever. Of course, after the divorce, they threw me out, minus my baby, but with my breasts still pumped up."

Yes, those were nice—still nice.

"I'm glad you like my titties, Frank. It's important for a woman's man to like her titties. Almost important as him liking her pussy."

"Did you say liking? Or licking?"

"Both. If I put them in your mouth, will you nurse on them? Please?"

Sure I would!

***

"Ooh, I love that, Frank!"

So did I.

"You ever pinch up your own nipples?"

"Once or twice."

"Make you horny?"

"Not really."

"You sucking my titties like that sure makes me horny, you naughty man. Particularly when you squeeze my nipples with you lips."

"So? Does a bad girl really mind?"

"This one loves it."

I slid down just enough to get to her other breast. Her Double D's sure were nice. I rubbed my morning whiskers into their cleavage.

"Oohh, Honey. You're making me want you."

Was there ever anything I did to or with her body that didn't?

"I wish there was some way you could suck my tittie nipples and fuck me at the same time."

I shook my head as much as you can with your face buried—I mean deeply buried—between a pair of double D's.

"Suck my nipples real hard so you get me empty quick, okay? Then you gotta let me suck you off. Please?"

What could I do but my best?

"I like this real good," she said. "You nursing on me is lots better than that machine Hollisters used for sucking milk from my tits."

"Machine? Like for dairy cows?"

She shrugged, and that rubbed her breasts against my face.

"Wow!" she said, then rubbed them sideways again. I had a huge dose of WOW on my mind, too!

"You know, Frank? I never knew where my milk went."

"Not to your baby?"

She shook her head, but it was the kind of shake usually born of puzzled discovery.

"I never saw Hector, so I never saw them feed my milk to him. Wonder what they did with it."

That was strange with a capital S. Had her husband and his family kept Amy as a hu-cow that four years? What had really happened to little Hector? How come Amy never saw him?

"Maybe they sold your milk. I saw on the internet where there's a market for human milk," I said. "There are women who do that, I guess." Maybe they sold little Hector, too, but I didn't say that.

"They milked Benson's mother with the same machine, but his father sucked her lots, too. But I always though they only did that for fun." The light of discovery flickered brighter in Amy's eyes. "Maybe ..."

"Maybe?"

"You think maybe we were both kept as hu-cows? It did seem like there was always lots of milk in the fridge, but ...?"

"They never bought milk? And seldom drank milk at meals?"

"Yeah."

"Could be, I guess. They never told you?"

Amy shook her head. "I wonder if little Hector ever got any of my milk."

This whole situation was getting stranger by the minute. Supposedly a baby boy was born but never seen by his mother. The two women in the household were being machine milked, and although the father-inlaw suckled from the mother inlaw, maybe more than enough to make it entertainment? The baby never suckled from his mother—and what healthy human male wouldn't hope for that?—although the family had long precedent for that among their males. After four years of marriage, Amy was still making milk that vanished into thin air, and when her marriage to Benson collapsed—the reason for which she'd never told me—she was out on her ear, milk-making breasts and all—yet without her son or ever having seen him.

Yes, strange.

"Amy?"

"Yes, Honey?"

"Just what did they tell you about your baby?"

"He was born, fine, but had to be put in a special hospital."

Strange. "Then what?"

"Then he was moved to a rehab hospital."

"Why?"

"Something I didn't understand."

"And then why couldn't you see him?"

"More I didn't understand. All kinds of words about infection and more things I didn't understand."

"So this went on for four years?"

"Yes?"

"Until your divorce from Benson was final?"

"Yes."

"And what about Hector after the divorce. Didn't you have any say about his custody?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"They told me the court said I wasn't a fit mother because I got knocked up and didn't care for Hector after he was born."

"They said ...?"

"They said."

"Didn't you have a lawyer?"

"Couldn't afford one. They said they'd take care of all that for me, not to worry."

"They said. They said. They said. Sounds suspicious to me. And you never saw your baby?"

Amy gave her head a thoughtful nod combined with a soft shake.

I gave this about as thoughtful consideration as a guy possibly could, with a nipple in his mouth and a gentle hand caressing his penis.

"What happened after the divorce? You tried to see your baby?"

"Tried for a while, but then sort of gave up. I was always told he was in a special clinic somewhere or some special school somewhere else, or something like that. Always too far away for me to travel there. So, after years and years of this I gave up."

"And what about your mother?"

"She wouldn't help me. In fact, last few times I tried, she would barely talk to me."

I nodded some more.

"Then one day after quite a while, I got this letter from a lawyer in California saying he was her estate's executor and Momma had left me this money in her will. It was a check for three hundred thousand dollars. Surprised the hell out of me! Both her death, and the fact she had any money at all."

"So you took that money and bought the house next to me here in Idaho?"

Amy nodded. "Sorry about that."

"I'm not sorry you did ... I mean after your roof fell in."

"Thanks, Honey. I'm glad I did, too. I just wish you'd have come over sooner, turned me over your knee, and paddled my ass until I smartened up."

"Think you would have?"

"Probably not. What I'd been though with Momma and getting pregnant, and having to marry Benson, and what he and his parents did to me keeping my baby away from me, and then threw me out with no help, I think anybody would turn into a bitch. You were just unlucky enough to be within easy bitch trajectory."

I could see that! "So, now what?" I said. "What you want to do, long term?"

"Stay with you. Live with you. Have sex with you. Not much else except make you happy every hour of every day, every way I can. And maybe make you boy babies to make up for Hector."

"So here you are, and here I am, and we're on the verge of a bunch of great sex, and lots more. That's what you want?"

She nodded. "I want you so much and so long and so deep I can hardly stand it. Right now come stick your wonder bar in me and make us both happy, okay?"

Okay by me!

***

But I wasn't finished with her when I finished with her. Yes, fucking her is great, but sometimes you must go beyond that, and this thing about her son ate at me. What really had gone on there? Maybe if I found her son and returned him, she'd permanently lose the bitch mode so I didn't feel I had to tread lightly to prevent a relapse.

"So, how long since you talked to or wrote the Hollisters about Hector?"

"Three or four years, I suppose."

"Still got an address for them?"

"Maybe. I'd have to look. Might take a week to sort through all that mess left from my old house. Why?"

"I been thinking about you, your husband, your divorce and Hector and them."

"Uuhh! I just want to forget them."

"Me to, and I want you to. But I don't think you can with that loose-end about Hector popping into your mind every once in a while."

She nodded. "Probably right. I didn't do very well with you, did I? I mean before the situation with my house. God, I hated you and everybody in the world along with you!"

My turn to nod, so I did. I didn't want to push her too hard about this. After all, no sense screwing up the best piece of ass a guy ever fell into—or should I say: Rescued from a drowning worse than death.

"If I find an address, what you gonna do?"

"Have you write them a letter and see if you can find out where Hector is and what he's doing. You know, stuff like that."

"Maybe there's a shorter way."

"Yes?"

"How about census records. I read somewhere lots of them are on the Internet now. And what about city directories? I got all this time while you're at work when I could fuck you but can't, so maybe I can find them that way. I mean, San Francisco can't be that big."

Sounded big to me, but these sources might be a starting point. I could always cut it off if her efforts interfered with what I wanted from her, and when she tried that and failed, she could fall back to Plan B: Find their address in her home stuff.