Haunting Sex Story

[JEMMA]

Chapter Four

Having been unable to hear what their mother and the strange hermit-looking man talked about, curiosity consumed the twins and they waited impatiently when the mumbling stopped and yet, the adults still didn't appear. Debbie craned her neck, trying to peek around the corner without being seen. As the adults suddenly walked into view, Debbie saw that the man was holding her mother's hand. He dropped it and then looked directly into Debbie's eyes.

This stranger looked ... stranger and stranger.

They sat, Ramona at the head of the table, with her children on each side of her and Mister Smith at the other end.

As dishes of food began to be passed around, the man spoke.

"Your mother tells me that you two are curious about what is happening next door, at the old Nettleton place. This is true, yes?"

His accent caused Debbie to stutter.

"Y..Y..Yes." The bowl of asparagus slipped from her fingers and thumped on the table, but didn't spill. She blushed. "Sorry," she said.

"Well, that is a simple thing to answer," said the man, scooping out a huge helping of Lasagna. He held the last spoonful to his nose and drew in a great breath. "This is smelling divine to me," he said.

Ramona scrunched up her face, somewhere between happy and trying to tell him that the accent was too heavy.

He passed the bowl to Robby who stared at it. It was a third empty and Smith was the only one who'd been served. He blinked and took some, unconsciously taking less than he usually would have.

Debbie had been waiting for Smith to go on, but he didn't, choosing first salt, then getting three hot rolls, and then asking for butter.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, leaning toward the man.

He looked at her through his wild hair and bushy eyebrows and grinned with startlingly white teeth. Debbie noticed there was a stick of some sort stuck in the hair at the top of the man's left ear, like some carpenters wore a pencil. The end of the stick looked like it had been smashed, leaving tiny slivers of wood bunched together. She stared at it and he saw where her eyes were. His hand reached up and felt the stick.

"This is a makeshift toothbrush," he said amiably, "Such as they use in the country I have come from. I have not yet had time to purchase a new one here in your delightful town."

Debbie's mouth hung open. Who used a stick as a toothbrush? Who went anywhere without a toothbrush? She shook her head and frowned.

"You are having some impatience, yes?" prodded the man, grinning.

Debbie blushed more, her face going sunburn red.

"Sorry," she mumbled again.

Smith laughed, and his voice sounded warm and nice, not at all like he looked.

"I should not tease you," he said. "That is bad manners." But then he took a bite of the lasagna, getting sauce on his moustache and beard, which he seemed completely unaware of. It was disgusting.

He smacked his lips and leaned back. "I work for the Nettletons," he said. "It is wished for that the old family house be restored. I am to oversee that process."

Had he said a comet was going to smash into the earth and kill everybody, the impact wouldn't have been any more profound.

Debbie gulped for air and ended up hyperventilating, getting dizzy and wobbling in her chair. Smith was out of his chair in a flash, catching her before she fell, while her brother and mother stared, uncomprehending.

"I need a bag," he barked, the accent suddenly much diminished. "Something she can breathe into."

Ramona jumped from her chair like a rabbit jumps when it's been shot, and scurried to the kitchen. She came back with a lunch sack and handed it to him.

Debbie was flailing weakly and Robby was ineffectually trying to get the disgusting man to stop touching his sister, but she was almost unconscious as her lungs spasmed.

"Hold her" he said to Ramona and he prepared the bag, slapping the open end over her mouth and nose. "Hold this to your face little one," he ordered.

Debbie's hands came up and pressed the bag to her face, half crushing it, but her head cleared almost immediately as she rebreathed air poor in oxygen.

Smith stepped back to his chair, sat down, and began stuffing lasagna into his mouth, alternating with bread and asparagus. He made noises of appreciation while Debbie got control of herself and her mother hovered over her.

"I'm fine Mom," she said, disgusted that this foul stranger had helped her. "Go sit down and eat." Her appetite was gone, and she sat, staring at her plate.

Smith paused, speaking with his mouth full, his words mushy. He picked up the conversation right where it had left off, as if nothing had happened.

"This renovation displeases you?" he asked, reaching for tea to wash down the food.

"You can't," said Debbie in a small voice.

"Debbie!" came her mother's astonished voice.

"Well ... he can't!" shouted Debbie. "It's not right!"

"Deborah Jean Franklin!" said her mother in a too-loud voice. "Where are your manners?!"



Smith held up his hand. "There is much passion in this beautiful almost-woman," he said, looking at her with piercing eyes. "This is America, yes? In this land you speak freely, is that not so?"

"Yes!" blurted Debbie. "And I say you should go back to wherever you came from and leave us alone!" she ended in a shout, her face red again, this time from anger.

"Debbie, you are excused to your room," said Ramona, her voice cold and sharp. "Freedom of speech does not mean you may be disrespectful to our guest."

Debbie's eyes were stricken and she ducked her head. Then it snapped back up, her eyes blazing. "I prefer to go to my room right now mother!"

She stood and stiffly turned to stalk out of the dining room toward the stairs.

Ramona watched her go and then her eyes went to her son, who had sat mute and stiff throughout the whole exchange.

"Would you like to tell me what's going on here?" she asked in a voice that made it clear she expected to be told what was going on.

Robby didn't know what to do or say. He couldn't just admit that they'd played in the mansion for years, that they felt ownership of the dilapidated place. That would lead to consequences that couldn't possibly be happy.

"It's haunted," he blurted. "The ghosts will be unhappy. They might do things," he suggested vaguely.

Ramona, whose own spirit had been dampened many times by thoughts of that old house and the pain it had seen, but who had never thought even once that she might be "haunted" by an unhappy ghost, laughed, her voice at the edge of panic. Then her giggle box fell over with a silent thump and uncontrollable giggles gushed out of Ramona's mouth until she was gasping for breath, almost like her daughter had been. She tried to take a drink of tea and choked on it. Now she was trying to laugh and cough at the same time. Twin dribbles of tea dripped from her nostrils.

Again Smith was on his feet and pounding her back lightly, helpless to do anything else.

Robby just stared.

TBC

[JEMMA]

All the tension Ramona had felt building, and only partially released by her earlier crying session in the car, flooded out with her laughs. It was a catharsis she needed badly and, even though she was afraid she'd fall out of her chair she was ecstatic at the feel of all that unwanted tightness flowing out of her body. Then she thought of what she'd look like falling over, lying on the floor, tea running out of her nose, and she laughed even harder. Her brother ... her dear sweet brother was there. He was going to be here next door for a long time ... maybe forever ... and that thought made her feel even better. She drew in a racking deep breath and finally got control of her diaphragm. Now all she had to do was pull in more air and she'd be fine.

Smith stood up, staring down at the woman. "All the women in this family have these breathing problems, yes?"

That made Ramona laugh too, but this time it was a short, normal laugh. She wiped her eyes and cheeks with her palms and, then grabbed the napkin to rub under her nose. With her cleared vision saw that Debbie had returned to the bottom of the stairs and was staring curiously at the scene in the dining room.



Ramona pointed at her. "You!" she said. "If you've found your manners you may return to the table." Then, a few more giggles chuckled out of her mouth.

Debbie turned and went back up the stairs.

Ramona felt sad at that, but waved Mister Smith back to his chair.

"Ghosts," she said, and giggled again.

"I'm thinking there are no ghosts," said Smith, beginning to eat again.

Robby, flushed with shame and anger at his mother's laughter, just sat. His appetite was gone too.

"Lots of people think there are ghosts," said Robby sullenly.

His mother heard the anger in his voice, and she calmed. "Robby, I wasn't laughing at you. Not really. I think I was just laughing because I needed to laugh. I don't think you’re silly or anything like that," she said. "But I also don't believe in ghosts."

Robby, his heart sinking, knew beyond his years that nothing he could say would undo what was going on.

"I'm not really hungry," he said. "Can I go?"

Ramona's first instinct was to say "No," but she heard the sadness in his voice and nodded instead. He got up and walked heavily to the stairs.

When his footfalls were gone, Robert Nettleton, looking ridiculous in his sauce-smeared false moustache and beard, looked helplessly at his sister.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "They shouldn't care so much about what happens over there. Nobody else does. I don't understand it." she said.

"Are you sure they don't know?" he asked. "About who you really are I mean?"

"Bobby, I've never told them anything. Just that our parents were gone. I avoided talking about it, not wanting them to be affected by ... our past."

There was more meaning in her voice than that associated with the house and grounds of the Nettleton Mansion. Robert wanted to tell her about their mother's jewelry box, that he'd found in the wrong room of the mansion, with things in it that had been put there by someone other than their mother, including a watch that had to have been their father's. He was distracted by the pain in her voice. It reminded him of his own pain.

"I missed you so much," said Robert.

"I wanted to die at first," said Ramona. "But then I met Richard and it wasn't so bad. And then when the twins were born I was happy Bobby ... really happy."

She looked at the strange apparition at her table and then looked away. As long as all she did was hear his voice she had a picture of 18 year old Bobby Nettleton in her mind.

"Didn't you ever find a girl? To love?" she asked.

"Oh, there were girls, I suppose, but none to claim my heart," he said. "My work was such that there was no time or place for romance anyway."

"That's so sad," said Ramona, her heart going out to him.

"I'm young," he said. "And I'm rich. I won't be alone for long. Not in the good old U.S. of A."

"I'll have a talk with the kids," said Ramona. "I'll try to find out what's really going on." She stole a peek at him. "I'm glad you're back Bobby. I missed you too."

He grinned. "Come over and see me sometime. Bring some more of this delicious food. I won't have electricity for two more weeks, and then I can get some appliances in there and begin cooking for myself. Man, I've missed food like this."

"When do you think you'll go ... public?" she asked.

"There are six liens filed against the place, from contractors who say they have been doing upkeep. That's preposterous and I don't want them to know they're dealing with me. All they are doing is grubbing for money. More will probably come out as soon as the word gets out that I'm back. I have several court appearances to make as Mister Smith and then I should be able to throw away this horrible hair.

Ramona giggled. "It is horrible. Couldn't you have gotten something nicer?"

"I thought it gave me a colorful appearance," he said, wounded.

"Yes, but the color is so ... " she was searching for the right word.

He finished the sentence for her. "Crazy?"

She blushed. "I didn't say that. you said that."

"Well, I won't wear it when you come to call." He dug in the pocket of the coat he was still wearing and handed her a shiny brass key. "This goes to the padlock on the gate. I oiled the hinges and it now works flawlessly. I don't lock the house. Haven't gotten around to finding the right locksmith. The ghosts will keep everybody else away," he said grinning.

"What will I tell the kids?" she asked, a flutter in her stomach at the idea of going back to the house she'd stayed away from for so long.

"Bring them along," he said. "I have a feeling the disguise idea was a bad one ... at least with them. Who knows? I probably didn't need a disguise at all. Who around here would recognize me anyway? I think I only used it because it was such an exotic idea."

He stood up. "Now, I'd better go. You have two unruly children to deal with. If they give you too much trouble come get me and I'll come back and scare them half to death." He grinned again.

"I'd kiss you goodbye, but I'm not going near that mess you have on your face. I hope you have water over there," said Ramona.

"Water I have in plenty. The old well is still good and the pump worked fine once I replaced the leather gasket. It's cold, but I can always warm up some for a whore's bath on the wood stove. As for the kiss ... I'll save it for you..."

Ramona blushed. "That was a long time ago Bobby," she said.

"I know," he said back. "I really missed you Rami."

Then he went to the door and let himself out with a wave over his shoulder. Ramona stood and just tried to decide how she felt.

It took quite a while, as she turned the shiny brass key over and over in her fingers. Finally she went upstairs to talk to her children.

She found them together. They were in Robby's room. Robby was lying on the bed, while Debbie paced back and forth. She stopped when Ramona stepped into the room. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks tear-stained.

"Why is that old place so important to you two?" asked their mother.

Debbie slumped. Like Robby, she just couldn't confess to what they'd done for so many years. It was their secret. It wasn't their sexual play that was uppermost in Debbie's mind. It was the length of time the secret had been kept from her mother. She knew her mother would be hurt by the truth.

As they say, the best defense is a good offense.

TBC

[JEMMA]

"Mom" said Debbie, her voice under control now. "You treated that ... man ... like he was somebody special. You fixed your best dinner. We used our best dishes. You were excited, Mom. But when he got here you acted like you'd never seen him in your life. Who is he?"

Now it was Ramona who had a fifteen year old secret she'd kept from the two people she loved most in the world. And she had no idea how to tell them about that secret, and all the other secrets she had kept for their entire lives ... even beyond their entire lives.

"He's somebody I knew a long time ago," she sighed. "He looked differently than I expected him to and it surprised me. He was very important to me back then. That's all I can tell you about him. I want to tell you more ... but I can't. Not yet. In a few weeks, maybe." Her voice was defeated. She knew her children would not stand for that answer. "It's very complicated."

"How could you have known him long ago? It's obvious he's from some foreign country. I don't understand." Debbie's voice was defeated too.

"Mom?" came Robby's voice.

"Yes sweetheart," she said back.

"Do you trust us?"

That surprised Ramona. "Of course I trust you. I love you," she said.

"Okay, we trust you and love you too," he said. "How about this? How about you trust us when we tell you we really care about that house. We can't explain why, but it's true. And we'll trust you when you tell us that you know that man, and that he's not a bad man. He's not, right?"

Ramona smiled tiredly. "No, he's not bad. He's a very good man."

"He scares me," said Debbie.

"He would never hurt you for anything in the world," said her mother.

"Okay, if you say so, but he's still scary. That hair ... the way he eats. He eats like he's starving, or has never had good food in his life. It's just weird." Debbie went and sat on the edge of the bed, by her brother.

"He said he's going to restore the house. What does that mean exactly?" asked Robby.

"There used to be beautiful gardens all around it," said Ramona, her voice going soft as she remembered. "And the house was painted and the tower roof was covered in shining copper shingles. And there were beautiful rugs and servants and music. It was a beautiful place then," she said.

"How do you know that?" asked Debbie, her imagination fired by the description.

Ramona jerked, coming back to the present. Her words had been dangerous. "I ... ahh ... talked with Mister Smith about it. Back then he lived there." She folded her arms. "I think Robby's idea is good. I'll trust you two, and you trust me. In a few weeks there may be enough changes that your questions will be able to be answered. Maybe mine too. Okay?"

There was a duet of sighed "okay"s from the bed.

"Now, let's all go down and clean up together. I'm too tired to do it all by myself. For calling it such a special meal you two sure didn't eat much of it. I could warm some up if you want ..."

As if on cue, Debbie's stomach growled and she giggled. The rest of the evening was spent much more happily than before as they all put the old house out of their minds and were just a family.

The next day, though, after their mother had gone to work, Debbie charged into her brother's room, where he was still sleeping. She jumped on top of him, tickling him mercilessly.

"Wake up lazy bones!" she squealed. "Let's go see what that horrible old man is doing to our house!"

Robby tried to defend himself by grabbing his sister's breasts and squeezing them. It didn't work. All she did was lean into his hands.

"Mmmm that feels nice. I should have let you touch me a long time ago."

"I don't recall asking to touch you," he said, moving his hands in opposite directions and then back again, making her braless breasts bounce sideways. They were too firm to hit each other though.



She sat up and pushed his hands away. "So, come on, let's go!" she said excitedly.

"You're crazy," he said, his hands moving to her thighs. She was astride him like she was riding a horse. "We can't go over there any more. That man would probably chop us up and cook us on a campfire."

"No he wouldn't. You heard Mommy. She said he'd never ever hurt us, not for anything."

"That doesn't mean he'd be happy to see us. Besides, what are we going to do, just walk up to the place and say, 'Hi, we just thought we'd drop by. Seeing as how we yelled and screamed at you last night we thought we'd be all friendly today.'"

Debbie put her hands on top of his hands, which were on top of her thighs. She stroked the back of his hands with her fingertips.

"No, silly. We're going to spy. From the secret passage. Through the peep holes. I just want to keep an eye on him and see what he's doing. Besides, if our stash is still there maybe we can get it while he's in some other part of the house. Don't you want your watch?"

"Didn't mom say he used to live there?" asked Robby. "Maybe he knows all about the secret passages."

"Of course not," said Debbie firmly. "That's why they're called secret passages, because they're secret. Those were made when the house was new, and there's no way Mister Smith could have lived there more than what ... twenty or thirty years ago maybe? He's not old enough to have lived there before that. And he'd have had to be a little boy too if he lived there back then." She stopped and thought for a moment. "You know what? I bet he and mom went to school together or something like that. And they played together, or he was her boyfriend, like when they were in forth or fifth grade or something. And he lived in the house and Mom lived wherever she lived ... where did mom grow up?" Debbie was getting animated by her imaginary assumptions.

"I don't know," said Robby. "But I'd rather stay here and play naughty with you. Maybe they played naughty when they were little," said Robby, his hands sliding up Debbie's thighs and onto her waist, moving ever upward toward her breasts again.

"Robby!" Debbie was scandalized. "That's our mother you're talking about." She screwed up her face. "Ewwwww, can you imagine mom with that ... man?!"

She jumped up, eliciting a grunt from Robby as her firm hard butt bounced on his stomach.

"Come on, get up, let's go!" she demanded.

Robby got up and unabashedly stripped off his PJ bottoms, showing his morning woody to his sister while he pulled on a pair of shorts. She stared intently at it, but didn't move to touch him.



"Maybe we'll play naughty later," she said, and then danced out of his reach toward the door, teasing him. She pulled her T shirt up, showing him her naked breasts and backed out the door.

"Come on baby, you want these?" she teased. "Come on, just follow little Debbie and maybe she'll let you play with them." She had to turn and run to avoid being caught and laughed as she ran out through the back door and into the yard.



Though she had run outside, Debbie didn't head for the fence to the Nettleton Mansion. Instead she ran around the house a couple of times, staying just ahead of her brother, teasing him. She ran like the wind and loved that he couldn't quite catch her. When he finally slowed down, panting for breath, she slowed down too, still walking, until they got to the back of the house, where no one in the neighborhood could see them.



Then she let him catch her. She tried to kiss him, as consolation for besting him in the race, but both were breathing too hard for it to really work. They waited until they were sure their mother wasn't coming back home because she forgot something. Then they walked to the fence where their "private entrance" was and slipped through.

As they penetrated the dense forest, they began to hear noises that were foreign to ears tuned to the normal silence of their fantasy play place. Instead of going to the root cellar, which meant they'd be exposed for the few seconds it would take to get to the entrance and down the stairs, they stayed to the woods and did a circuit of the house to see what was going on outside.

They were astonished.



There were trucks and vans everywhere, parked all over what had, at one time, been lawns and gardens. One had a sign on the side that indicated it was from a plumbing company. Another one was an electrical contractor. There were two from the local garden center, and they had a tractor with a bucket on the front that they were using to clear swaths of weeds and bushes away from around the house. There was a truck with no sign, but two men who wore white coveralls spattered with spots of color, suggesting they were painters. Another truck was from a roofing company. There was a tractor looking thing that had a long arm on the back, with a scoop on the end, and it was digging a long trench from the house toward the street. They winced as they realized if it kept going more of their cherished forest would be destroyed.

There were ladders up against the house in several places, and men on them, taking things off the house and others putting things on the house. The whole place looked different already, though most of that was just because of activity, and not substantive changes to the appearance of the house itself.

Still, it was obvious that the appearance would change. Already the house looked like it stood straighter, without the sag it had always seemed to have, like it was coming awake after a long slumber.

As they watched a truck left, and another one came. It was met by Mister Smith, still wearing his long black trench coat, his beard and hair only a little less tangled. Debbie thought she'd see old crusted lasagna sauce in that beard if she were close enough. She shuddered.

Smith was flitting from one place to another, talking to this man, or that, pointing and gesticulating. The tractors made too much noise for them to hear what he was saying, but it was obvious he was issuing directions to the contractors.

The great double front doors stood wide open, letting sunlight into the foyer, which had not seen such light in decades. Two men were climbing twin ladders, set only a few feet apart, and were carrying something square between them, up the ladder. Whatever it was it sparkled and glistened in the sun, in vivid colors of red, green, blue and a golden color that could only be called yellow by a blind person.

"It's stained glass!" whispered Robby, close to his sister. The men stopped at an open hole in the side of the house, where a window had been removed. Carefully they fitted the new window into the hole and did something to make it stay.

Another truck arrived, a larger one, with a flat bed heaped with all kinds of things. There was copper piping, and boxes marked as containing toilets and sinks. There were coils of black that looked like wire of some kind. Men got out and began carrying things into the house.

Yet another van arrived, this one marked as the delivery service for a dry cleaning establishment. Two people got out of it with folded boxes and went into the house.

Robby noticed that Debbie was panting, as if she'd run. He moved and saw tears running down her cheeks, dripping to the forest floor.

He reached out to touch her arm and she turned her tear streaked face to him.

"They're changing everything," she sobbed, melting into his arms. "I hate him!" she screamed.

Robby hushed her, but there was really no chance her cry had been overheard. He hugged her to him as she sobbed. Finally he let her go and took her hand.

"Come on," he said. "There's nothing we can do here."

He was just about to lead her back home, when a car drove into the chaos of vehicles littering the yard. They stared at the car.

It was their car.

Their mother was driving.

TBC

[JEMMA]

Crouching down in the bushes they watched as Ramona got out and stood in the open door, staring at all the other vehicles, and at the house. She didn't move for a long time. Then, reaching into the car and removing a leather briefcase, she took a few tentative steps toward the house.

"Maybe she's got something in there to make them stop," whispered Robby.

That hope was dented a little when Smith saw their mother and hurried over to her. He started to embrace her, plain as day, but then dropped his arms and stood back, looking over his shoulder at the contractors scattered around the grounds. He took her elbow and led her into the house.

"What's she doing here?" asked Debbie, puzzled.

"I don't know," said Robby, puzzled himself.

"We've got to get in there!" said Debbie, standing up.

"We can't get past all those people!" said Robby.

"The secret way, you Dodo," she said, looking at him like he was daft.

"I don't know Deb," he said uncertainly. "What if we make a noise or something? They could hear us and then what would we do?"

"There's no way they could hear us with all that noise going on," said Debbie. "You're chicken! Aren't you!"

As anyone knows, that's probably the best way to get a fifteen year old boy to do just about anything he probably shouldn't do, and it worked just like it would have on any other fifteen year old boy.

Debbie had to run to catch up to her brother, who was stomping through the woods in an arc that would bring them to the back of the root cellar.

"Be careful," warned Debbie, afraid she'd made him so mad that he might do something stupid.

"What's the matter? he growled. "You turning chicken?"

"I'm sorry Robby ... come on ... you want to know what she's doing in there don't you?"

He stopped and turned as she almost ran into him. "If we get caught, I am going to spank you. I promise!" Then he turned and went on.

They waited briefly in the bushes, watching the back of the house, but there was only one man on a ladder there, and all his attention seemed to be on where some boards had been removed from the side of the house.

They made the dash to the steps and skipped steps getting down into the cellar. Without waiting to see if anyone raised the alarm, Robby jerked open the secret door and they ducked into the tunnel. Again, they had forgotten to bring a candle, but again, they both knew the tunnel so well they could negotiate it in the pitch black with no problem. Still, Robby went first, while Debbie held on to his waist.

Robby pulled gently at the door. They had used it so much that it opened easily now, though the hinges squeaked. They had never thought to oil them, since whenever they were there they were alone.

There was a little light in the secret passage, coming in from the peep holes. While it would have seemed dark to most people, after the pitch black of the tunnel it was a little like being outside in moonlight to the teens.

There were thumps that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once as they stepped gently up the staircase. They saw nothing at the first peepholes, and then a painter at the third. Going on up a level, where the bedrooms were, they went to the peephole that led into "their" bedroom. The room was empty. Their box of treasure was still sitting where they had left it before.

They struck pay dirt at the big bedroom, with the four poster bed.

The teens peered silently into the big bedroom where they had played dress up so many times.

Smith and their mother were in that room, along with one of the people who had gotten out of the Dry Cleaner's van. Ramona was standing along one wall while Smith instructed the man on what to pack into the box. The hangings from the four poster went into one, and the curtains from the windows went into another.

"And everything in those chests." He pointed to the cedar chests where the clothing Robby and Debbie had worn for years was packed. "But you can get those another day. Do you think these can be repaired and cleaned?" he said lifting up a drooping corner of cloth from inside one of the boxes.

"They're pretty old, but I'd say they're in fair shape. I have to tell you though, Mister Smith, this is going to be expensive. We'll have to re-weave a lot of the holes, and finding fabric - genuine period fabric - will be expensive too. It would be cheaper to just have new ones made."

"No!" barked Smith. "Only if something is too deteriorated to save. I want to save as much as possible. Expense is not an issue."

"Well, it's your money..." said the man, packing up the boxes. The other man came in and helped him carry the boxes out.

Debbie and Robby had to trade off using the peep hole. They whispered to each other as to what they were seeing. The voices were faint, through the wall, but there was only lath and plaster between them and the people in the room, and they could hear through that fairly well.

Debbie watched as Smith looked out of the bedroom door and then closed it. She heard the thunk of a latch being thrown.

"I told you they'd assign you to me if I wanted them to," he said to their mother.

"It was amazing!" said Ramona. "I got called into the president of the bank's office and he instructed me that I was to do anything you wanted me to."

Smith stood, looking at their mother. "Anything?" he leered.

"Bobby," said Ramona, "I'm here on business."

Bobby? thought Debbie. His name was Bobby?

"All work and no play makes ... Bobby a dull boy," he grinned.

"Do you have to keep that horrible thing on your face all the time?" asked Debbie's mother.

"Not when we're alone," said the man, and, to Debbie's astonishment he reached up and pulled off his hair.

Debbie gasped, stepped back and ran into the wall on the opposite side of the secret passageway with a thump.

Robby was at the peephole instantly, just in time to see the man throw a black, hairy mass on the bare mattress of the big bed. There was smooth brown hair on his head. Then he pulled at his beard and Robby saw sticky strings of something that had glued it to his face pull away. He tossed that on the bed too and stood, looking at Ramona.

"Is that better?" he asked.

Ramona was staring at the man, the briefcase hanging from her hand.

"You look so different," she said softly.

"It's been a long time Rami," he said.

"You're so handsome," she said.

"Not as handsome as you are beautiful," said the man who called himself Smith. He stepped toward Bobby's mother. "I missed you so much Rami."

Then, to Robby's astonishment, his mother rushed into the man's arms, into a kiss that was obviously voluntary and as heartfelt as when Robby kissed his sister.



Now it was Robby who staggered away from the peephole, running into his sister's soft body. She held his waist with her hands to stabilize them both.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"He kissed her," gasped Robby.

"What?!" said Debbie, her voice like a shout in the confines of the narrow hallway.

"Shhhh," said Robby instinctively. "She kissed him," he corrected himself.



Debbie shoved him to one side and pressed her face to the holes.

"They kissed each other," whispered Robby.

That kiss was still going on as Debbie's eyes focused on the adults. That, and a whole lot more. The now brown-haired and clean shaven man - the same man she had seen before when she peeked the last time - had his hand cupping her mother's breast, and Ramona's arms were wrapped around his neck.

Ramona pushed him away. "We can't Bobby," she said. She didn't make him remove his hand, which stayed right where it had been, lifting the breast, and squeezing it.



Debbie's mouth was hanging open. Robby tried to move her but she pushed at him with one hand.

"Is there a man in your life sweet Rami?" asked the man.

"Of course not," said Ramona. "But there are all kinds of people around."

"I locked the door," he said.

"The drapes are gone from the windows," said Ramona.

Debbie couldn't quite get her mind wrapped around the conversation. It almost sounded like they were talking about ... sex. But that couldn't be!

"No one is working on that side of the house. I'm on fire for you Rami."

Debbie bit her lip. This man called her mother by a pet name. Rami was obviously short for Ramona. Who was he? Why had he come to their house wearing a fake beard and moustache.

"You left me," said her mother, her voice accusing. She looked at the briefcase in her hand as if she'd forgotten it and set it down. Debbie's unbelieving eyes saw her mother's fingers go to the buttons of her white blouse and begin unbuttoning them.

"I had to, my sweet," said the man. "I thought I could save the world. Only that could have taken me away from you."

Ramona unbuttoned her blouse, as if she were alone in her own bedroom.

"I cried for you Bobby," said Ramona, pulling the blouse apart and out of the waistband of her skirt. She bared her lacy white bra to this stranger.

Debbie stepped back again, her hand covering her mouth. What her mother was doing made no sense of any kind ... in any way. It was like watching a dream, that couldn't be true, but that you were having anyway, and you couldn't make it stop.

Debbie's place was immediately taken by Robby. He gasped and his two hands went to the wall, making a small sound. He saw his mother turn and look directly at him.

"What was that?" she asked.

Robby stared at her flat naked stomach, and the bulging bra cups, with their deep cleavage showing milky white skin. The man was staring at his mother's breasts too.



"This house makes many noises," said the man. "Seeing you again makes me want to make a little noise too."

Robby watched, his brow furrowing, as his mother laughed.

"I haven't had a man in a long long time Bobby," she said, removing her blouse and folding it neatly. She bent over and placed it on top of the briefcase. Then, as if it were the most normal thing for his mother to do in the whole world, she unclipped and unzipped her skirt and bent over, stepping out of it. It joined her blouse as she stood before the man in only panties and bra.

"Oh sweet baby, I've waited so long too," the man said, tearing at his clothes.

Robby watched in stark disbelief as his mother reached behind her and the bra fell down her arms to reveal her soft breasts. She had brown nipples Robby had never seen, or could never remember seeing. They were much bigger than Debbie's pink ones, thick, and they looked firm, sticking out from her slightly sagging breasts. For some crazy reason Robby found himself noticing that those nipples didn’t' point straight ahead, like Debbie’s did. Instead like eyes with something wrong with them, they looked in slightly different directions.



Robby's eyes went to the man, who had somehow become naked, his penis standing straight out from a fluff of brown hair that was as wild as the man's wig had been. That penis looked long, but bent. The man was uncut, like Robby himself, but he was so hard that the glans of his penis seemed to press forward, like it was trying to escape being confined by his foreskin.



"Shit" said Robby under his breath.

"What's happening now?" came Debbie's plaintive soft cry.

"They're naked," he whispered.

Debbie shoved him sideways, and he pushed off the wall to keep from snagging on one of the upright boards that the lath was nailed to.

"Hey!" he whispered loudly.

"I want to see!" she whispered back, pressing her face to the wall.

Technically, "they" weren't naked yet, since Ramona still had on her panties. But Debbie's eyes were drawn to that long fleshy lance that was pointing at her mother. The only other one she'd ever seen was Robby's, and they looked the same and vastly different at the same time. Her eyes flicked to her mother, whose clothes seemed to have magically vanished since Debbie last saw her. Debbie sucked in a breath as her mother bent over and slipped her panties off. She stood up, holding them hanging off of her index finger, and let them fall lightly on top of her folded clothes like she had practiced doing that for years.



"You're so beautiful," said the man, stepping toward her mother.

"It's been so long," replied her mother.

Then they embraced, and that long thick penis slid naturally between her mother's legs as the couple kissed what was obviously a kiss in the French way. Her mother leaned forward into the man's body, her hands pulling him against her. Debbie was numb from the shock of what she was seeing. Children never see their parents as sexual beings, particularly not with complete strangers who are somehow vastly too familiar to be strangers. It almost made her head hurt.



Still, the curious girl inside her body wanted to see what would happen next. That part of her mind held her steady, her eyes staring through the peep holes, while another part of her brain railed that this was wrong, that she must do something to stop what was happening, that the man was not only destroying her house, but he was destroying her mother at the same time.

If Ramona was being destroyed, she didn't appear to mind much. She broke the kiss and stepped past Smith, pulling his hand, leading him to the bed. The mattress that had been sagging against the wall when Debbie was last here, was now back on the bed.

"I'm sopping wet for you," said Ramona.

Debbie gasped.

She saw her mother lie down on the bare mattress, uncaring that there were no sheets on it ... that it was dusty ... and assume what could only be called a pose of invitation, her legs spread wide, and her arms outstretched.



Smith sank down on her mother and Debbie saw her own mother's hand grasp his manly gristle and bring it to her pussy lips. She watched in horror as that tip of that hard thing penetrated her mother's sex and began to slide into her body.



Debbie stepped back a third time, her hands coming up to cover her eyes, as Robby crowded in front of her to look. He gasped too, because what he saw was the opposite. He saw the man on top of his mother, at full penetration, drawing slowly out until his penis left her, a string of white connecting them, before lowering his penis almost tenderly to kiss and then penetrate his mother's nether lips again.

There was a duet of moans, clearly heard in the secret passageway, of two people enjoying themselves to the utmost.

Then, before Robby's unbelieving eyes, Smith fucked his mother. There was no other word for what they did. Smith lunged and thrust hard, his buttocks clenching hard with each thrust, and Ramona's body shook, as if with punishment. Robby believed it was rape at first, and was ashamed that he was rigid in his own pants, and unable to break down the wall to save his mother.

But her hands came to Smith's back and caressed it, sliding to his buttocks and, as they clenched for another assault on his mother's pussy, her hands pulled, digging her fingernails into his ass, clearly encouraging the man to plunder her sex.



Now there were grunts from the man and little yips and squeals and soft wails from their mother, sounds that made heat bloom in Debbie's loins, despite her attempts to crush those feelings. And they made Robby's prick jerk in his pants and begin to leak. They were the sounds of real, live, honest-to-goodness sexual intercourse taking place between two people who were having a wonderful time engaging in that intercourse.

Decades later, there would be a popular slogan aimed at convincing kids not to take drugs, and not to have sex. It would be called "Just say no!"

Now, in this time, the sounds the teens could hear their mother and this stranger making very clearly said "Just say yes!"

Debbie leaned weakly against the wall behind her brother. She couldn't watch any more. The sounds were more than enough to make her feel helpless. She tugged at Robby, but now he brushed her away, staring at the tableau before him. Smith was wild now, his buttocks rising and falling at an astonishing rate as Ramona wrapped her legs around him.

"For you my sweet!" the man roared and he drove in one last time and stopped suddenly. His balls went from flopping all over the place to hanging straight down in that way that only happens when it's very hot. Then those balls jumped three times in a row ... not much, but enough to be noticeable ... and the man gave a long groan of almost despair. Then he pulled out and began to slide in and out of his lover again, slowly, as she took up the groan that got louder and higher in pitch until it was a whine that sounded like she was in awful pain.



Robby stared as he saw a ring of thick white build up around the man's penis where it went into his mother.

The man had ejaculated in her.

Robby's knees almost failed. At the same time he had to clench to keep his own penis from spurting. It was insane!

Ramona's whine of release ended in a gasped, "I love you so much Bobby," as the man collapsed on top of her and they were still, except for Ramona's hands, which slowly and gently slid all over Smith's back.

"I missed you so much, Rami," came Smith's muffled voice.

"Please don't leave me again," came the voice that Robby's ears told him was his mother's voice, but which he couldn't put with her face. It was just too unreal.

As Robby pulled his eyes away from the holes, Smith said "I'll never leave you again, my darling."

TBC

[JEMMA]

How the two teenagers got back to the root cellar they could not have told you. One moment it seemed as if they were in the dusty secret corridor between rooms, and the next they were standing at the bottom of the stairs that led up and out of the root cellar into the sunshine.



Brother and sister blinked, looking up into the bright light. Their emotions were in a turmoil, something they should have been used to, in the sense that their emitions were often at peak levels in this place, but they were unable to fully process what they'd witnessed.

As they squinted at the bright light outside, both had an unconscious desire to stay in the root cellar, where it was safe ... where they had hidden from imagined perils in the past, and now wanted to hide from something that seemed so strange that it felt ... dangerous. They had lived with their mother for their entire lives, but the woman they had seen through the peep hole acted nothing like the mother they knew. Her actions had been so casual, so blatantly sexual, in a way that looked as comfortable as what Debbie and Robby themselves had shared so many times. But that was insane! In all the years they'd lived with her they had never seen her exhibit one iota of sexual behavior.



Their mother obviously knew the man from the past some time ... some place. That much they knew. But the fact that he wore a disguise derailed their thinking. Why would he do that? Their mother had been expecting the brown-haired man for dinner. He was the special guest. And the disguise had thrown her too.

"What should we do?" whined Debbie, her voice small. She felt small in a huge strange world right now, like a small mouse who didn't want to expose herself to the hawk she knew was drifting on the wind somewhere up in that bright sky outside.

"My penis is hard," said Robby. He felt the need to say something, but couldn't think of anything else.

"What!?" asked his sister, turning to look at him.

"I got hard watching them," he said, his eyes wide. "Having sex," he added unnecessarily. Part of his mind was trying to cope with the knowledge he now had of what his hard penis could be used for. It was no longer theoretical. He'd seen what it could do ... what it would do someday. And the only woman he could imagine his penis doing that with was standing right next to him.

Debbie put her hand on the front of her brother's shorts. There was a big hard lump there.

He jumped as he felt her hand on his erection. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said.

They were both so confused that even something relatively normal for them seemed odd somehow. she took her hand away.

"What should we do?" she asked again.

"Go home?" suggested Robby. "I don't know what to do."

"Why would mom do that with ... him?" asked Debbie.

"I don't know," grumped Robby. "She acted like she loved him."

"How could she love him? Where did he come from?"

"I don't know that either," sighed Robby, remembering the way his mother had touched the man ... gently ... lovingly ... welcoming him into that intimate embrace.



"But she does love him," he convinced himself. He just couldn't understand her actions unless they were based on love.

"Maybe we could talk to her," said Debbie uncertainly.

"How are we supposed to do that?" scoffed Robby. "What do we do? Do we just say - Hey Mom, we happened to see you boffing the fuck out of that strange guy who showed up at dinner, and we were just sort of wondering why in the fuck you would do that?"

"Don't curse Robby" scolded Debbie automatically. "It's vulgar."

"Let me get this straight," said Robby, turning to her full on. "You're upset because I said the word, and meanwhile our mother is in there doing the word!"

"Well don't yell at me," she said, getting even more upset. "I'm not the one in there on my back with my legs spread!"



That image shocked Robby so much that his mouth opened and closed several times, like a goldfish in a bowl.

"Let's not fight ... please," she pleaded. There were tears in her eyes, glistening in a shaft of light coming from above.

Robby hugged his sister and she melted against him. Once again, their passion for each other insulated them from the strange and troubling thing they'd just seen. They felt safe holding each other ... a sense of normalcy. That passion flared in each of them and the hug turned into a kiss as they fed on each other's emotion.

Debbie pushed him away. "Let's go home. Mom went there on bank business. She'll have to go back to the bank. She won't be home until tonight."

TBC ......in next Chapter...

[faceblock]

Thank you for nice story. Pls continue...

[JEMMA]

Chapter Five

Debbie's unspoken insinuation about what they'd do when they got home spurred Robby and he climbed the steps, carefully peeking outside. When he didn't see anything he reached for her hand and they bolted up and out of their haven. Seconds later they were in the woods and running, still hand in hand, for the fence. They slipped through the gap as if their bodies were greased and dashed for the back door. Not stopping they pounded up the stairs to Debbie's room, which was the first bedroom they came to. They had unconsciously transferred their feeling of safe haven from the room they could no longer play in, to the next best thing ... her bedroom, the only other place she felt like she owned.

Then it was more long tongue swapping kisses as they fumbled to undress each other. Their routine led them to being naked together on her bed, her hand firmly grasping his prick as she stroked him. His fingers strummed her clitty and she writhed beside him. She bucked her hips, and one of his fingers slipped between her plump pussy lips to dip into her. On instinct he let his finger go further until she moaned.



"That hurts," she moaned, but kissed him even more vigorously.

Robby remembered how that the man had sucked at his mother's fat, brown nipples, and he ducked his head to fasten his lips around his sister's pink one. She squealed and bucked her hips again. His finger felt resistance, but he pushed anyway.

"AHHHHOOOOWWWW," she cried and went rigid, rolling away a little, pulling her nipple out of his mouth with a "plop".



Robby knew he had hurt her, and he immediately pulled the finger out of her. He looked at it and it was stained a dark pink. She was bleeding!

"Oh baby I'm so sorry," he cried.

She hushed him, kissing him more now that the pain was gone. "It's okay" she said. "I think you ruptured my hymen. But I don't care. Kiss me Robby ... rub me. I'm so close."

She had never let go of his stiff cock, and she still stroked it. He went back to rubbing her bump in little circles, but took care not to hurt her again. She made happy noises and went stiff again as she came. Robby felt his semen begin its short journey. Because he had rolled apart from her when he hurt her, her hand was pulling on him as she stroked, and his penis was aimed at where his hand still stimulated her.



His sperm rocketed out and splashed on his fingers. That made her even more slippery and he rubbed his spunk into her clitty, speeding his fingers back and forth as her cum was extended by a follow-on orgasm. The rest of his spend painted his hand and her mons, making her pubic hair a mess of slippery white. Debbie let go of his rod and rolled away from him, splaying her legs wide, and his fingers slipped down to rub her pussy lips, one finger sliding between her swollen petals. He rubbed more slowly now ... just stroking her, knowing her clit would be too sensitive to stimulate directly. He stared at her, drinking the beauty of her nakedness as her breasts rose and fell rapidly.



Her head rolled toward him as he lay on his side, and she looked at him through her lashes. Then she convulsively rolled back toward him and she clutched him to her.

They traded soft words of love, intermingled with more sweet soft-lipped kisses.

Finally Debbie rolled to her back, relaxed. "Is this what they felt like?" she asked.

"Maybe," said her brother.

"I don't understand any of this," she sighed. "But if they were doing this ... feeling like this ... it just can't be bad."

"Yeah," said Robby, surprised that he agreed with her a hundred percent.

"We have to find a way to figure out what's going on," said Debbie more firmly.

"Yeah," said Robby again, still in agreement with his sister.

They got up and cleaned up, and washed the bedspread, which had a large wet spot on it. Then they made some sandwiches and had a bottle of RC Cola each. It was while they were finishing that, sitting at the table, that Debbie looked at her brother with calculating eyes.

"I want to do it again," she said.

Robby didn't have to be told what she wanted to do. Just her statement, and the look on her face, had him ready in seconds. He stood up, letting his bulge talk for him.



This time Debbie got a towel from the bathroom and spread it out where their hips would be. She didn't have to explain that either. Silently they stripped, watching each other. Debbie lay down first, adjusting her position so the towel was where she wanted it. Then she looked up at her brother.

Perhaps his unconscious mind noticed the similarity of her place on the bed, and her welcome for him to join her, to what they had peeked at in the old house next door. Seeing the sex act he had always heard of, but had not been able to envision in his mind clearly, affected him. Biology was also at work in his adolescent body. For these reasons he dripped with anticipation for feeling her soft skin against his, and hearing her special sighs as she experienced orgasm under his fingers. He didn't acutally think consciously of doing to her what Smith had done to his mother. That just didn't break to the surface of his awareness. But he lay with her, his heart full and groaned as she gripped him and began to stroke him again.

"I love this," she sighed as his fingers found her slit, already slippery with her expectation. He rubbed at the lips again, liking the feel of their willingness to move around under his direction. She gripped him tighter as he added the stimulation of suckling at her turgid nips, which now protruded from her firm breasts. They weren't as big around as her mother's. They didn't stick out as much as her mother's, but they pleasured her just like her mother had been pleasured. She liked this new thing they did ... very much.



She first felt his penis touch her labia by accident, as they moved against each other, kissing and moaning. He had moved his fingers to her clit now and was playing with it gently, rubbing in the little circles he knew she loved. Their lovemaking wasn't as urgent this time, though the feelings streaking through her loins did cause her to jerk on him more forcefully. And it was that which bought the tip of his penis in contact with her pussy lips, just below where his fingers stroked.

When it happened she noticed it mostly because it felt so different from fingers - both hers and his. That head was smooth and wide, its plumb shape mooshing between her lips and spreading them more than a finger would have. She pulled at him, getting that contact again, swabbing his glans through her dripping pussy lips. She wasn't trying to get it in her. She too had not yet arrived at the thought of that possibility. It just felt good to do ... so she did it.

It felt good to Robby too. Heat surrounded and kissed the tip of his drippy cock, and he felt that wonderful soothing stuff ooze out of him. She moaned into his lips and suddenly that ooze turned into a rush of hot fluid as his semen bathed her pussy mouth. He grunted with the surprise of it. He hadn't felt it coming this time for some reason.



Debbie felt that hot rush directly in her pussy mouth. It was completely different than feeling it on the hair that grew down there. It was warmer somehow. It felt fabulous. She kept sliding the spurting thing through her vulva as it gave her more and more of that fabulous feeling. She could feel his cock begin to soften almost immediately in her hand, and she squeezed it, not in any attempt to milk it of its nectar, but just because it felt good to squeeze as it softened. Something in her brain told her it would be okay now, now that he was finished, to roll back and spread her legs so he could do what he'd done before. She did, opening herself to his fingers and he began to rub all through the slippery mess with the flat of his hand.



Her hips arched up, wanting more than just that flat hand, and her hand went to his ... on top of his. When she did this to herself she slipped her finger into her sex. When she did that it didn't hurt, exactly, though there had been warning tinges of pain in the past. His finger had hurt her, but it was much larger than her own. She wanted to feel her finger in her pussy, and she pressed with her middle finger, trying to slip it between his.

Instead she pushed his finger into her split.

Robby felt her push at his finger and let it slide deeper into her. She tensed, but didn't cry out this time. He went deeper, gently and slowly, sliding the finger around in liquid, slippery heat.

"Does it hurt?" he asked in her ear.

"Noooooooodon'tstop." She ran her words together as her hips arched again. "Feels gooood," she moaned.

He went deeper and then she sucked air and winced as the thickest part of his finger scraped her now torn cherry.

"Ahhhhhhh," she moaned, but her hand held his there. "Don't stop," she said clearly.

"I'm hurting you," he said.

"Noooooo," she lied. There was pain, but it was pain worth bearing. Her orgasm was so close she felt like she could reach out and touch it. Slowly the pain dimmed, and the deeper he went the better it felt.

"Move it," she demanded. Her hand left his and went to his head, pulling him to her breast. "Suck!"



Robby took her nipple and sucked at the same time he withdrew his sperm-slick finger from her pussy and pushed it back in. It squelched noisily, making wet slurping sounds as it slicked through his sperm. It squeezed that residual sperm into her and out of her at the same time. He pulled on it again, and the base of his hand scraped across her clit. Now his conscious mind drew a connection between what his finger was doing and what Smith's prick had been doing in his mother. He sped up, as Smith had sped up, moving his finger in and out of her rapidly.

She exploded in a wail of ecstasy, her hips coming up off the towel in a convulsive leap as the orgasm blinded her temporarily. She didn't care and closed her eyes tightly, seeing bright spots in the darkness, her mind paying attention only to the thick thing that was plundering her pussy and the streaks of mad joy that bounced back and forth from her loins to the nipple he was suckling.

Her wild movements required Robby to dig in with his finger, to keep from losing contact with her and that only intensified her feeling. She shrieked, an anguished cry of joy that sounded to Robby like she was dying. In panic he jerked his finger out of her and her shriek changed to a wail as the wonderful feeling in her pussy went away. Her own hand flashed to her loins and she shoved her middle finger into herself, jerking it madly, punishing her clit through the rest of her cum.



She felt every muscle in her body tense up and then it was over. She flopped back to the bed, limp, her hand falling at her side and gasped for air.

"Deb? Are you okay?" asked a very concerned Robby.

"I've ... never ... been ... better," she panted. "That ... was ... fantastic."

"It sounded like I was killing you," he said, unsure of what to believe.

"You can ... kill me like that ... every day," she rasped, her throat dry from all her deep and rapid breathing.

"So it didn't hurt ... like before?" he asked.

She nodded. "A little ... but not so bad. Felt good," she said. "Except you took your finger out way too soon."

Eventually, the two teens used up all the nervous energy the things they'd seen had fired in them. They got up, cleaned up again, and again got something to eat. As they sat at the table, munching on grilled cheese sandwiches, the subject that was on both of their minds finally found words.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Debbie.

"I don't know. It's all so strange and weird," commented Robby.

"I want to yell at her ... scream at her," said Debbie, but without the anger that would have made it sound like such actions were imminent.

"We can't do that," said Robby, pragmatically.

"She's hiding something," said Debbie.

"Well gee," chuckled her brother. "When did you figure that out?"

She shot him a dark look.

"Why would she do that with a complete stranger?" wondered the girl.

"Come on Deb," said Robby. "Obviously she knows him from somewhere. He's not a stranger."

"But why would she hide it? And why would she let him do that to our place?" complained Debbie.

"Deb, she doesn't know it's our place," said Robby with infuriating sense.

"Okay, then, we'll tell her it's our place!" said Debbie, getting mad again.

"And she's just going to say '"Gee, kids, I didn't know that. I'll get right over there and tell the bad man to get out.' You really think she'll just say that keeping that little secret from her for years and years is just fine?" Robby sometimes had a way of making Debbie feel stupid, even though she was quite sure she was the smarter twin.

"But ..." Debbie started to yell.



"Look!" he yelled first. "She's never done anything that wasn't for our own good," he said insistently. "You know she loves us. There has to be some explanation for all this. We just have to figure out how to get her to tell us."

Debbie sulked. "I don't think I like you very much," she said sourly.

"I know," he said, making his voice sound obviously too sad for the situation. "I could tell a little while ago when you were letting me squirt all over your ... pussy."

His use of that word, a word that, if not taboo, was completely naughty, and not a word either of them felt comfortable using in normal conversation, was like a slap in the face to Debbie. Anger flared in her, but it was because he was poking holes in all her statements. She stood up.

"I'm going over to Angie's house. I'll be home for supper." She tried to frown, to let Robby know she was mad.

He just looked at her. He was afraid if he said anything else it would only drive her further away from him.

TBC

[JEMMA]

Both kids were home when Ramona walked in that night. She had a lot on her mind, which was probably why she didn't sense the slight air of tension in the house. When she had returned to work, and had sat down at her new desk, a perk of having been assigned to work with the representative of the eccentric and mysterious Nettleton who owned the mansion, the first thing she had thought of was the heavy weight of her brother's sperm in her womb as she sat. Her feelings for her brother had been forced into a dark corner in her mind for a long time, but she wasn't surprised when they flooded out of that corner to drown her in their passion and intensity. She had always loved Robert in a special way that no other man could match.

She had known, when they were young, that what they did was not acceptable to normal people. She had known that there was significant danger if their love produced any attention ... especially if that attention came as the result of her belly swelling with his child.

After he had gone, though, she wished more than anything in the world that he had left her pregnant. She missed him so much that she had dreamed every night that his seed had taken hold in her, and that she would have something of him to hold and cherish and love. When her next period had come, announcing that her dream was not to come true, she had cried even more bitterly.



She had adjusted. Her desire to become a mother had transferred to Richard and she's finally been happy for more than a few days at a time. And when Richard had died it had been the memory of getting through the loss of her brother's presence and all that she missed so much, that had helped her decide to keep living then. That was when she had been able to finally put her brother's memories to rest, hidden in that corner of her mind. She had centered on her children, and had used their raising as a crutch to help her walk through life until she had healed enough to stand on her own again.

Now, suddenly, Robert was back. The affect on her was almost as traumatic as his leave-taking had been. As she sat, feeling his essence lying in her womb, shivers of ecstasy flowed through her veins. She was so happy she felt brittle, as if she could break into a thousand pieces if she weren't careful.

There were too many things to think about, and her mind flitted from one to the other too quickly to stop and actually think about each one. That he still loved her was obvious, but what did that love mean? How would it affect her life? What would he expect from her? How would she tell her children about him? What did the renovation of her family home mean in her life? She realized with true irony that she could almost feel the ghosts of her parents hovering over her, whispering to her, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. Did they approve? Were their spirits enraged that she would lie with her own brother. What if she got pregnant now? Did she want to prevent such a pregnancy? She knew she would go to Robert again ... and again ... for as long as he would take her naked body into his arms. She knew in the center of her being that she could never deny him. What did that mean to her life?



She did her work mechanically, her practiced financial eye reviewing documents, flagging ones that looked questionable for reasons she couldn't identify at that moment, but which she knew would yield their secrets later, when she was more settled. Her competence was automatic, unthinking, as she shuffled papers, her mind a whirl of unresolved issues.



It had taken a co-worker touching her shoulder, nodding at the lights going out all over the bank, to bring her back to the real world completely. She blushed at the woman's questioning look.

"I guess I was preoccupied with all this," she said, indicating the pile of invoices and bills on her desk.

"You'll get used to it," said the woman.

That social contact had let Ramona think of things other than the rambling questions in her head, and she had determined to concentrate on traffic to keep her mind off of things until she had passed the now open iron gates of her ancestral home. When she parked and went into the house, the uppermost thing in her mind was what, if anything, to tell her children. She had to begin, somehow, to prepare them for learning that they had an uncle they knew nothing about.



Ramona turned off the engine and blinked. As if some demented magic had swooped in to take charge of her life, she was in her driveway.

She didn't remember a single thing about the drive home.

TBC in next Chapter.........

[JEMMA]

Chapter Six

"I'm home," Ramona sang automatically when she dropped her purse and keys on the sideboard in the hall.

"Hey!" came Robby's deep voice from the living room. She heard nothing from Debbie and assumed she must be in her room, or someplace it was hard to hear.

Ramona sought refuge in the rituals of preparing dinner for her family. The questions came back to her as she handled pots and pans and dishes.

"So," came the sudden voice of Debbie behind her. "How was work today?"

Ramona looked at her daughter but didn't notice the tense set of Debbie's shoulders.

"Fine," she said automatically.

"Nothing ... interesting happened then?" pressed Debbie.

Ramona, thinking that finally she had something to talk about, said, "Well, they gave me a new job. They put me in charge of taking care of all the financial documents associated with the renovation next door."

The silence this was met with penetrated Ramona's awareness. She'd forgotten how upset Debbie was about that renovation. She turned to see Debbie on the balls of her feet, leaning forward slightly.

"I know you don't like what's going on over there," said Ramona. "But what's happening is happening. Rob ... Mr. Nettleton has a lot of money in the bank. He's their largest depositor, and they want to keep him happy."

Debbie had pushed intentionally, trying to get her mother to be forthcoming with information. It hadn't worked, but that misspoken name was something she could press.

"What does Robby have to do with that?" she asked.

"What?" asked Ramona, confused.

"You said Rob ... before you said Mister Nettleton. The only Rob I know is Robby. What does he have to do with that?"

Ramona was flustered. Debbie was acting almost hostile toward her. Surely she didn't blame her mother for being assigned to the Nettleton accounts.

"Robby doesn't have anything to do with it," she said guardedly. I don't think you heard me correctly."

"I think you need to tell me what's going on," said Debbie, her voice full of accusation and an authoritative tone.

Ramona, unused to her daughter taking that tone with her, and at the end of her emotional rope to begin with, snapped.

"No, Debbie, I think you need to tell me what's going on! Why are you so intent that nothing should happen to that house? Why is it any of your business what happens in that house? I want some answers young lady and I want them now!"

Ramona's face was red and puffy as she shouted. Debbie's face got that way almost instantly too. Both women started screaming at each other, their hands waving wildly. Debbie screamed demands to know why Ramona had "done that" with that horrible man and why their mother was lying to them. Ramona screamed that she had happiness within her grasp and that it was obvious that Debbie didn't want her to have that. It was fortunate for both that they were yelling so loudly that neither could understand the other.

Robby appeared as if by magic between them, a hand held out palm first to each snarling woman.

"Hey ... HEY!!" he shouted, his voice drowning out both of them.

The women subsided, both panting, their faces remarkably similar in appearance, and not pleasant to look at, for all that each woman was normally beautiful.

"It doesn't matter what's happening next door!" he shouted, to keep them from starting up again, but then dropped his voice. "Whatever it is, shouting at each other won't help anything."

He looked first at his sister and then turned his head to look at his mother, his hands still up.

"And whatever it is shouldn't come between us as a family," he said firmly. "Mom ... what's for dinner?" he asked inanely. It was a bald faced attempt to change the subject.

Ramona realized with a flush of embarrassment that she had no idea what she'd been preparing. She looked at the counter in confusion. "I don't know," she said weakly. When she saw the chicken on the counter she said, "Fried chicken." Her eyes went to the stove, at the pan of water boiling there, and the potatoes in it. "And mashed potatoes," she added.

"Okay then," said Robby, as if something momentous had been resolved. "I'm starving."

Debbie took a shuddering breath. She, like her mother, had a lot on her mind too. She knew what she had screamed, but her mother didn't appear to have actually heard her. She felt her mind twist slightly in her head as she recognized that the fact that her mother was acting so oddly had to mean that something powerful was going on. She felt a rush of shame for screaming. Robby was right about that. As much as she loved that old house, it wasn't worth driving her mother away from her. Whatever was going on must be awfully important to her mother for her to act this way. The strange Mr. Smith was only part of it. As a young woman, Debbie had never given her body to a man, but she already knew the incredible importance of deciding to do that some day. And the fact that her mother had given herself so eagerly to a man - any man - was something Debbie instinctively understood was incredibly important. Though she didn't understand it, she suddenly knew that somehow, it would all make sense eventually. She still itched to get answers to her questions, but she also knew that she'd have to be patient to get them.



She hoped she could make herself find that patience.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. She looked at her mother with an unspoken pleading in her eyes.

"Me too," said Ramona. "I have a lot on my mind. I shouldn't have yelled at you. None of this is your fault."

Robby gave a silent sigh of relief as the two women rushed together and hugged. He watched in confusion as both of them started crying and apologizing even more. He decided that women were even stranger than he had suspected.



"I'm starving over here," he complained, rubbing his stomach.

"Then get a can of green beans and put them on the stove," said his mother tearfully. "Do you expect me to do everything for you?"

Robby signed again, this time audibly, and went to the pantry.

There was still some residual tension during supper, but it was manageable. All three family members tried to make idle conversation, but it all fell flat. Finally Ramona put down her fork, wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and settled her gaze on her daughter.

"I'm just going to say something. I don't want to talk about it right now. You seem to have some emotional involvement with that house that I don't understand. So let me just say this and I want you to think about it before you say anything back ... both of you," she said, turning her eyes to her son. "Okay?"

Both teens nodded. There was a sinking sensation in Debbie's stomach.

"Okay," said their mother. "That property is owned by Robert Nettleton. It has been for years. He was overseas for a long time, but now he wants to come back and live there. It's his house. He's very rich and he has his money in the bank ... where I work. They want me to take care of his financial needs ... pay his bills and things like that. I can't turn that down. It's not exactly a promotion, but it pays better than just being a teller. If I do a good job it may lead to more assignments like this. So, even though I know you two don't want anything to happen next door, I have to do this. That's what I want you to understand. I'm not doing this to hurt you or anything like that. Do you understand?"

"Can I ask one question?" probed Debbie, unable to find the patience she had reminded herself to look for.

"Yes, as long as you understand I may not be able to answer it," said her mother.

"Why couldn't you answer it?" asked Debbie.

Ramona struggled in her mind, choosing her words carefully. "There are some ... complications ... things I can't talk about right now."

'I just bet there are!' thought Debbie to herself. She decided to push just a little.

"When you fixed dinner last night it was obvious that mister Smith is ... important. Why is he so important?"

Ramona had been semi-prepared for several questions. Questions about "Mister Smith" weren't in that number. She was too long in answering, and didn't have time to think about her answer carefully.

"He's Robert Nettleton's representative," she said. "He's important to the bank."

Debbie's stomach flip-flopped. Her mother had told her an outright lie. Or at least part of it was an outright lie. He might be the owner's representative, but that wasn't why he was so important. That much had been made perfectly clear through the peep hole that very day.

"Right," said Debbie tightly. It was obvious she didn't like that answer.

"Debbie..." warned her brother.

"I'm not going to shout," she said to him.

Ramona knew something was wrong ... that her answer had been in error some way. But the kids couldn't possibly know who "Mister Smith" really was. It was impossible. Her confusion prevented her from pursuing the subject with her daughter, who suddenly looked hostile again.

"I have to deal with him at the bank," said Ramona, trying to salvage something without knowing how. "I just wanted him to feel welcome."

"Oh I'm sure he feels very welcome," said Debbie tightly. Her brother's hand suddenly gripped her knee under the table ... painfully. She tried to push it away, but he was too strong. He did let off the pressure, but kept his hand there in unspoken warning.

Debbie, unable to control herself, pushed more. "Maybe you should take him a plate tonight. I'm sure he'd feel more welcome."

Unknown to Debbie, that suggestion drove straight into Ramona's brain. She could take him a plate of food. It would be a perfect way to see him again, privately. Her daughter's tone of voice was nudged out of her consciousness.

"That's a good idea," she said. Both children saw a sparkle come into her eye and were mildly astonished. "That's a very good idea," said their mother, smiling for the first time that night. "It would be very neighborly!"

To her children's further astonishment she stood up, forgetting her own food and bustling about making up a plate.

"I'll just take this over now, and see how he's doing." Ramona's eyes had a far away look in them now, as if she weren't paying attention to what she was doing.

Their mother's behavior was so bizarre that it struck her children in a way that impressed on them just how important this man was. It was one thing to contemplate her being a sexual being. Everybody knew adults had sex. But that she would abandon her dinner and her children ... just like that ... was something that spoke volumes to them. It penetrated their own brains in a way that nothing else had, even watching their mother have sex. As the door closed behind her, they looked at each other.




"Can you believe that?" asked Robby.

"Who is this guy?" asked Debbie, wonder in her voice.

There was unspoken agreement between the teens to spy again. They didn't finish their dinner either, standing up and heading for the back door as if they had planned this all along. They stayed silent as they ghosted from tree to tree toward the house. Robby exclaimed at how different the outside looked. Repairs and paint just on parts of the back side of the house made it look completely different. His sister pulled at his sleeve to get him to move on. They made just a cursory examination of the back of the house. Their mother would have drawn attention to the front part. They strode almost calmly to the entrance of the root cellar and slipped down into the dark.

Again they had left without thinking about light, but they fumbled in the dark only a little, finding the hidden catch for the shelf-door and stepping into the tunnel. They counted steps, stopping a foot from the door to the stairwell and pulled on the ring to open it slowly. The hinges still squealed a little and they left the door open to avoid making the hinges squeal again as it was closed.

Tiptoeing straight to the peep hole for the master bedroom, Debbie got there first and pressed her face to the holes.

The room was empty.

TBC

[JEMMA]

She turned and whispered, "They're not in there."

They scurried from spy hole to spy hole, trying to locate the adults. It was Robby who saw part of a man's body disappearing from view toward the grand staircase. Moving back to the master bedroom they waited, but no one appeared. They could both hear voices from lower in the house.

Debbie cupper her hands to her brother's ear. "You wait here. I'll go back and see if I can find them." He nodded, peering into the room.

Debbie found them in the formal dining room. Smith didn't have on his disguise, and was sitting at the head of a table that would have seated twenty-four comfortably. Her mother sat next to him. He was eating calmly. She thought to go get her brother, but they were talking and she wanted to hear. Losing vision, she pressed her ear to a hole.

"... acting so strangely about this whole thing," she heard her mother say.

"It will only be another week or two before we can tell them," said the man around a mouthful of chicken. "This is delicious Rami."

"Thank you," said Ramona automatically. "I don't know if I can put them off for another week," she said.

"If you think they can keep quiet about it then tell them now," said the man.

"Bobby, they're just kids. They're smart kids. They started second grade when they were six because they already knew everything that first grade had to teach them. But they're still kids. This is going to turn their world upside down."

Debbie agreed with that evaluation of things already. She took time to peek, but nothing had changed. She put her ear back to the wall.

"...expect them to take it in stride. Why didn't you tell them a long time ago?" She only heard part of the statement and question, but Debbie knew it had to do with telling her and Robby what was going on.



"I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," said Ramona. "You were gone so long, and in so many dangerous places. I dreaded any kind of special mail, for fear it world be notification that you were dead."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell them about me. You could have told them about me even if I had died, Rami."

"Yes, but then I'd have had to tell them who they are. They're good kids Bobby. They're smart and talented and I don't want this to change that. You know what it can mean to be who we are."

It was silent and Debbie darted a look. Smith had stopped eating and was putting his fork down. She pressed her ear to the hole.

"Ramona, it didn't ruin you. It didn't ruin me either. There's nothing wrong with who we are. Why do you think it would hurt them to know who they are?"



Her mother was silent for a moment. "There's so much pain, Bobby."

Debbie stole a peek again, and could hear Smith faintly speak.

"Not for them," he countered. "That's our pain, my darling. They can never feel that pain like we have." He reached for her hand. "Was there pain this morning?"



Debbie watched her mother's smile bloom. She wanted to hear better, but the sight of her mother's joyous face kept her eyes glued on the couple.

"No, it was wonderful. You know how wonderful it was." Debbie watched her mother lift Smith's hand and kiss his fingertips.

"Did you really come just to bring me this fine meal?" asked the man, moving his fingers to caress Ramona's face.

Debbie saw her mother's face take on a look she had never seen there. A look of sensuality ... of desire ... like only the very best movie stars could re-create on film.

"No," she said.

"Ah, then, my fine meal is finished. Perhaps you brought me dessert? My tongue still wishes for some sweet syrup to finish the meal properly."

"My children will wonder why it takes me so long," said Ramona wistfully.

"Will they come to this haunted place to find you?"

She shook her head firmly. "They'd never come here. No one comes here. I know what you think, but it's not my children who have been coming here." Then she tilted her head, like she was studying the man. "But I came here. I'm here now."



Debbie watched as her mother stood and Smith pushed his plate out of the way. They embraced, their hands sliding all over each other's bodies. The girl felt a thrill of unwelcome heat in her loins. She couldn't get used to seeing her mother as a sexual being. The most bizarre part of that was that Ramona was so unashamed about it!

"I want to taste you," said the man.

"Here?" laughed Ramona.

"What better place for dessert?" he said, lifting her by the waist and sitting her on the end of the table.

"You're horrible. My daughter was right! You're a horrible man!" laughed Ramona. But she scooted back on the table and leaned backwards, supporting her upper torso with her arms behind her.

Ramona was still dressed for work, in a sensible summer dress that buttoned up the front. It was white, and covered with a riot of colorful flowers that spilled across it in a swath that left one shoulder and parts of the skirt plain white. Debbie's mouth dropped open as her mother drew her knees up to her chest and then let them fall apart, spreading the skirt. Smith's hands lifted the hem and Debbie could see her mother had worn knee high stockings.

Just then Robby came up behind his sister and whispered, startling her.

"I thought you were coming back to get me," he hissed.

Debbie jumped and her forehead thumped the wall.

"Shhhh." She went and peered back through the peep holes. She was just in time to see Smith's head turning back to her mother. He kept lifting her mother's skirt, clear up to her waist, exposing her panties.

The dining room had multiple peep holes, as opposed to just one, like most other rooms had, and Robby was able to use another that was slightly higher than the one that was comfortable for Debbie to use. He looked and stifled a gasp as he saw Smith's hands slide along the outsides of his mother's thighs to grip her panties. He held his breath as his mother lifted her buttocks up off the table - what was she doing on the table? - and held it longer as Smith worked the panties up his mother's thighs until she had to bring her knees back together to let him slide them past them. Her knees fell back open, though, as he pulled the garment off her feet, working it over her shoes, which were still on. Smith stared at the woman's pussy, glistening in the light.



The fact there was light intruded upon Robby's consciousness and he realized that electricity had been installed. At least in this room. He couldn't see the light source, but it was good enough that he could see a sparkle, as of drops of ice or something, on the light fur that was between his mother's legs.

"What are they doing?" he whispered to his sister. Her hand waved at him and again all she said was, "Shhhh." Her eye was glued to her peep hole.

Both teens watched in stark disbelief as the man bent and began kissing the insides of their mother's legs, starting at the knees, and changing legs from time to time. His head got in the way, but it was obvious when he could go no further. Their mother's head dropped back, as if she were staring at the ceiling and a low moan came ripping out of her throat.

Both kids had heard of oral sex, of course, and knew other teens who claimed to have engaged in it. But that was a scenario that neither Robby nor Debbie had actually been able to quite believe was, in fact, real. It was like a legend that was fun to believe in, but not quite really believable. That their straight-laced mother not only allowed it, but obviously was enraptured by this, caused in them feelings that, before this, they would have explored in this very house, up in the girl's bedroom.

"Mmmmmmm Bobby, I'd forgotten how wonderful that is," moaned Ramona. Her voice was clearly audible through the plastered walls.

Smith pulled away from their mother's sex, leaning back. "Your husband did not do this for you?"

One of Ramona's hands lifted from behind her and reached for the man's head. She had to lean forward, but she grabbed his brown hair and pulled him back toward her.

"Don't talk," she commanded.

He leaned forward and the teens saw her lift her buttocks up off the table to push her pussy into his face as he regained contact. As he slurped - the only word they could envision for the sounds coming through the wall - his hands went to their mother's breasts, fumbling with her buttons, undoing her dress. He pushed her bra up off her breasts and began squeezing and pulling at her distended, dark nipples.



"AHHHHHHH," she groaned, part pain, mostly ecstasy. "I wish you had two mouths you beast." She pushed at his face again. "Just a little longer. Uhhhhnnnnggggggeeeeeeeeeee," she squealed, obviously having an orgasm as the man's face moved in between her thighs and his fingers punished her nipples.

When her cries died away Smith stood and his hands went to his belt.

"I have something that will take the place of one mouth," he announced.

If the twins had been astonished before, they were speechless as they saw their mother scoot across the table toward the man.

"My turn for dessert," she panted.

Smith pushed his pants down as their mother slid off the table, her skirt falling back to its normal place. She knelt in front of the man and the teens both gasped as she clearly took his erect phallus into her mouth. Her cheeks caved in as she sucked greedily.



Now it was Smith who looked at the ceiling, his hands on his hips.

"Ahhhhh sweet Rami," he groaned.



Ramona obviously loved what she was sucking. She, too, made wet slurping noises as her lips moved all along the thick stalk that protruded from dark curly hair above a large full looking sack.

Debbie's loins were hot now. Seeing this completely impossible behavior on the part of her mother caused her brain to disconnect with the fact that it was her mother. As if she were watching two strangers, she felt her own pussy get wet enough to make those same noises she was hearing. Her hand went to her shorts and she unbuttoned them, slipping her hand into them to find her pussy was sopping. She stuck a finger in herself and curled it, pulling up to put pressure on her clitty. She couldn't stifle a little moan.



Robby was having his own difficulties dealing with what he was seeing. He had less problem with his mother's behavior, perhaps because most men want every woman to look and act like she loves sex. He was hard as rock, though, and wasn't sure he should be. His sister's moan caused him to glance at her and notice where her hand was. Feeling unaccountably better, he unzipped himself and hauled out his stiff prick. His hand stroked it as he peered through the spy hole again.

"Rami, my sweet, I'm about to explode," groaned Smith.

Ramona's actions left no doubt that if he did so in her mouth she would not complain.

"Not in your mouth my darling, please," he pleaded.

Ramona left off sucking him instantly and jumped backwards to land on the end of the table again, leaning back as she had before. She lifted her legs, spreading them and Smith, obviously delighted, supported her legs with his hands while he waded between her thighs. He had to let go of one leg and reach between them, but he surged toward her as she cried out in ecstasy.

"This is where I love to plant my seed," he said gruffly.

"Yes!" exhorted the mother of the stunned teens.

"I always wished I could have made a little baby inside you my sweet," panted the man as he began thrusting hard into their mother.

"I wanted your child," she cried out.

"Do you still?" he rasped.

"Yes!" screamed Ramona.

With that scream of assent, Robby's semen splattered the wall. Debbie heard his grunts of release and she had to squat as her pussy finally gave her the relief of sweet orgasm.

Inside the dining room, Robert Nettleton leaned into his sister and delivered his seed into her fertile garden, gasping with the force of his release, hoping that he really was creating life in her womb. Some dim part of his mind knew that was an insane thing to wish for, but he didn't care.

Neither did Ramona.

http://www.xvideos.com/video64395511...oup_cre ampie

TBC

[JEMMA]

The adults might not have had reservations about whether or not Smith's sperm found one of Ramona's eggs, but Robby and Debbie cared very much about the possibility of this strange mysterious man from their mother's past getting her with child. While what they had seen was erotic in the extreme, and stimulated their own sexual desires, the thought of their mother having a baby by this man was something that did not appeal to them. On this, they agreed, discussing it in the root cellar and in the woods and even in the back yard as they tried to get home before their mother did.



What they could not agree on was what they were going to be able to do about it. They returned to their separate rooms to fret and think.




Debbie's primary thoughts were about how her mother had lied to her. She was not aware of any time in her short life when her mother had intentionally lied to her about something. She was old enough to realize that, whatever her mother was hiding, it was important to Ramona. At the same time, Debbie knew that when she lied - and she had lied her fair share of times to a number of people - that it was to cover up something she was ashamed of, or would get in trouble for. Debbie was, therefore, very upset about the lie. In a strange way she was more upset about the lie than she was about her mother acting like a slut with a complete stranger. But that seemed wrong too. It was obvious he wasn't a complete stranger ... not to her mother.



Debbie heard the door slam downstairs. Her mother was back ... back from her wild sex party with the man next door. Curiosity drove Debbie out of her room. She found her mother in the kitchen, washing up the plate she had taken next door. She was ... humming.



And she looked as normal as it was possible to look.

http://www.xvideos.com/video56032945/_

http://www.xvideos.com/video53259667..._home_-_part_6


TBC in next Chapter......

[JEMMA]

Chapter Seven

Debbie's natural curiosity was made more firm by her unwillingness to accept that her mother had lied to her. Debbie had never lied to her mother. Other than the fact, of course, that Debbie and Robby had played at the Nettleton Manor for years, and that they were sexually involved with each other were big secrets. But those were lies of omission and the only secrets Debbie had from her mother. She couldn't understand how her mother could be this other woman, and that Debbie had never been able to see even a glimpse of that woman.

"Mom?" began Debbie tentatively.'

"Hmmmm?" responded Ramona, her mind still on what had just happened.

"Tell me about your boyfriends," said Debbie.

Ramona turned and looked at her daughter. "Whatever do you mean? I don't have any boyfriends."

Debbie pushed the fresh sprout of her anger down and tried to be patient. "I mean when you were my age," she clarified.

Ramona knew her daughter well enough to see that she was uncomfortable ... distant somehow. They had always been loving and close. Was Debbie interested in a boy? That might explain her behavior recently ... her fits of anger. And, even though Debbie's recent outbursts had seemed to be tied to the Nettleton mansion, Ramona knew that ... hormones ... could intrude into life in the most unlikely ways.

"Are you interested in a boy?" she asked her daughter.

Debbie's first instinct was to deny that with a laugh. There were boys who interested her, but not as boyfriend material. She wasn't driven by hormones to seek males. She was quite satisfied with what she and her brother did in that way. But still, boys were ... interesting. And if saying she was interested in a boy would get her mother talking, then fine.

"Sort of," she said vaguely. "I've never had a real boyfriend."

Ramona sighed. Life at this stage of growing up was so hard. She hated the thought of her daughter going through what she had gone through as a girl. But she knew it had to happen. She hoped it didn't have to happen in quite the same way it had to her. It never occurred to her that her son and daughter might have the same kind of relationship she had had with her brother. That relationship had been born of the kind of pain and loneliness that her children had never had to face.

"Well, sweetheart, I'm not sure I'll be much help to you. I didn't have many boyfriends until I met your father," she said.

"Tell me about them," urged Debbie.

Ramona sat down at the table, where her unfinished plate of food still sat. She took a sip of her tea, but left the food alone.

"Golly," she said, her eyes going unfocused. "There isn't all that much to tell. There was a boy named George, when I was twelve. He was nice to me and I kind of thought of him as a boyfriend. We couldn't date or anything like that, of course."

"How about when you were older ... my age?" asked Debbie.

Ramona didn't know how to answer that question. Her "boyfriend" then had been Robert. Her guardian hadn't allowed her to date, and boys didn't come to visit at the house where the waifs lived. There had been boys who showed interest in her, but the whispers of girls her age told her that all they wanted was what she and Robert did in the dark of night, and she wasn't interested in doing that with anyone except Robert. What she had with her brother was precious and special.

But she couldn't tell her daughter about that!

"I guess I didn't really have a boyfriend until I went to college and met your father," she said.

The anger swelled again in the pit of Debbie's gut. Another lie.

"No other boy kissed you until you met Daddy?" she asked, her voice tight.

There was a slippery slope here for Ramona. Another boy had kissed her, and done a lot more than that before she met Richard. But that boy was Robert, and she couldn't tell her daughter about that. She avoided the question by asking one of her own.

"Has a boy tried to kiss you?"

"You didn't answer my question Mom," continued Debbie. "Why won't you answer my question?"

Ramona's reaction to her daughter's interrogation was one of fear. Had someone in the community been telling her children stories of Ramona's past? There were still a few people around who had lived in Nettleton and might have known Ramona when she was a ward. She hadn't worried about them because she had tried to be so invisible before she went to college. And, when she came back to Nettleton with a husband and a baby in her womb, she had thought people would forget her past. Only the oldest people in town might remember that she was the sad little Nettleton girl who changed her name. Was it possible that the renovation of the mansion had brought out old dusty memories ... and idle chatter about the past?

"Who have you been talking to?" she asked.

Now it was Debbie who had to be careful. Any information she divulged about what she now knew about her mother had to appear to have come from some source that couldn't be questioned.

"Nobody," she said tersely. "It's just that everybody has a boyfriend. Everybody has a first kiss. It's just how things happen. I just wanted to know what that was like for you."

Ramona thought about what kind of emotions Debbie might be feeling at her age. She didn't have a good frame of reference to think about that, because her own childhood had been anything but normal. Still, she knew how it felt to be in love ... to want a man's touch ... to want to do things with a man, even if that man had been her brother when she was Debbie's age.

"Sit down, Darling," she said, pointing to a chair.

Debbie hesitated, but then sat.

"Sweetheart, a girl at your age has feelings that are very strong sometimes. It's normal for her to be curious about boys and what it would be like to ... kiss them. That seems like a long time ago, when I felt those things. The mother in me wants to tell you not to kiss the boys. But I know that's not realistic. I guess what I really want you to understand is that it's tempting to do things with boys just because of feelings you have, but it's important not to go too far unless you have real love. Does that make sense?"

Debbie's reaction to that was mixed. What her mother was saying sounded like what any mother would say. But, knowing what her mother had just done, only an hour before, it had to mean that her mother ... loved ... mister Smith, and that didn't make any sense at all. A new thought bloomed in Debbie's mind. She didn't remember her father, because she had just been a toddler when he was killed. And, while she didn't remember any men in her home life, there had been a period of a few years when, if there was a man in the house, she might not have remembered it. Could mister Smith be a man her mother fell in love with after her father was killed?

In typical teenage fashion, instead of answering her mother's question, she blurted out her own.

"Mom, did you have a boyfriend after Daddy died?"

Ramona stared at her daughter. This was a conversation that seemed ... odd somehow. Her parental radar began to have blips on the screen that were disturbing.

"No, Darling," she said. She strained to find the right words. "Things were very difficult for me when your father died. I wasn't ... well. It took a long time to get as back to being normal as I could. I didn't feel that ... seeking male companionship ... was something that would make my life ... our lives ... better."

Ramona saw something like disappointment cross her daughter's face. This was very odd. On impulse she spoke.

"Debbie, why are you asking me all these questions. Do you have a boyfriend? Has he tried to do something that makes you uncomfortable? What's going on?"

Their roles had been somewhat reversed. Initially, Debbie had thought she might pry some information out of her mother that would answer some questions about the man next door. If he was an old boyfriend, what she and her brother had seen would make a lot more sense. Now, however, she heard that tone in her mother's voice that meant she was the one being interrogated, and that her mother wanted to pry information out of her.

Still, other than the fact that her mother did not seem to want to confess to what had gone on in the past with mister Smith ... what was still going on with him ... her mother's responses had been what Debbie would have expected ... caring responses that any loving mother might have given. The questions Debbie wanted answers to concerned mister Smith. Something in Debbie had begun to recognize that her and her brother's childhood play-place was gone now, never to return. Now this unbelievable relationship her mother had with Smith had pushed itself into her uppermost mind. She itched to make sense of it, and she took the risk of further questions.

"It's just that you seem so interested in mister Smith," she hazarded. "I mean what with him being a stranger and all, and I know about the bank and all that stuff, but it just seems like ... I don't know ... like you look at him sort of like I look at boys at school."

Debbie held her breath, waiting to see what her mother would say ... or do.

It was a pivotal point in the relationship between mother and daughter. At this point, Debbie knew her mother had lied to her at least twice, and that was something she couldn't understand. She also knew that her mother must love this stranger from somewhere in her past that she wasn't willing to talk about, and she couldn't understand that either. Had her mother laughed, or pshawed the idea that Smith might mean something to her, it might have created a rift between mother and daughter that could have lasted a lifetime.

But Ramona didn't laugh. She was seized by feelings of fear of her daughter finding out secrets that were better off left buried. At the same time she had to acknowledge that her daughter's instincts about this were astonishingly accurate, considering her age. Had she known that her children had spied on her, everything would have been different. She harbored some kind of insane hope in her heart that she and Robert might be able, somehow, to recapture the happiness of their youth together, now that he was back. She felt no guilt about what they had done since his return, but she was fully aware of the pitfalls involved in that forbidden relationship. If she could just tell her children who he was, they would simply assume that the ... feelings ... they saw, and which Debbie had just voiced seeing, were only the natural love of sister for brother.

But could she trust them to be discreet? Robert still had things to do before he took off his disguise in public, or at least until he appeared publicly as Robert Ellsworth Nettleton. Ramona was wracked with doubt. But she saw real questions in her daughter's eyes, and that was important too.

Now it was Ramona who took a risk.

"Sweetheart, there are things about mister Smith you don't know."

Ramona saw light bloom in her daughter's eyes, an obvious interest that shouted that this was something Debbie wanted very badly to know about. Debbie unconsciously leaned forward, toward her mother.

"But ... I can't tell you everything just yet."

The light dimmed in Debbie's eyes, and Ramona saw that too. She went on hurriedly.

"It's not because I don't want to tell you. It's complicated. There are legal issues over at the mansion and, until those are resolved, it's very important that no one learn some things about him that could cause him problems."

Debbie clutched at the little part of the secret that her mother had shared.

"Okay, I understand that, but why would you be interested in him? As a man, I mean?" Debbie pushed her luck even further. "It's like you knew him in the past or something."

Ramona became wary. "Is this what all those questions about boyfriends were all about?" she asked shrewdly.

Debbie's eyes widened. Her mother was pretty sharp. "Well ... yeah ... I guess so ... sort of."

Ramona didn't know what to say. She knew if she just put her daughter off that it wouldn't work. That much was obvious from her previous behavior.

"Let me say this. I already told you I knew him in the past. And, when I knew him then I liked him. He didn't have that beard then. But he's not my boyfriend." Ramona looked at her daughter to gauge the response.

Debbie was now confused. Her mother obviously liked mister Smith a lot more than she was admitting to. But what confused Debbie was her mother's unwillingness to admit that. She got an idea.

"Is he married or something?" she asked.

Ramona shook her head. "No, he's not married. But people would be ... upset if they thought we were as close as a boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Why?" asked Debbie.

"That's something I can't talk about," said Ramona, unable to come up with anything else. "You'll understand in a few weeks. I promise you that. You'll understand everything in a few weeks. Okay?"

Debbie's curiosity had been both soothed, to a tiny degree, and inflamed, to a large degree. She couldn't imagine why her mother had to wait to tell her just who this man really was. But she knew she'd gotten as much out of her mother as was likely, so she nodded. Then she felt compelled, for some reason, to hug her mother. She got up and bent over to embrace her.

"I love you Mommy," she said into her mother's hair.

Ramona felt a stab of emotion. "I love you too baby. I really do. And someday you'll understand all of this and it will be okay. I promise everything will be okay," she murmured.

That did, in fact, reassure Debbie, but she went to talk to Robby about things anyway. She didn't have much to give him, but it was more than she'd had an hour ago.

Robby listened carefully to what his sister told him.

"She admitted she liked him, a long time ago?" he asked.

"Well, she didn't say it was a long time ago. She just said she liked him, but he wasn't her boyfriend. But it had to be a long time ago, because otherwise we'd know him too ... wouldn't we?"

"Yeah, that makes sense," said her brother. "And she said he couldn't be her ... boyfriend?" That word just seemed too strange to use in the same sentence as his mother.

"She said he can't be her boyfriend, because people wouldn't like it," said Debbie. "Why wouldn't people let her choose whoever she wanted for her boyfriend?" she mused.

"It has to be something to do with the manor," decided Robby. "But how can we find out what it is?"

Debbie thought and then straightened up.

"The library!" she said excitedly. "Doesn't the library have old records and newspapers and stuff like that?"

And so it was decided. The kids would journey to the town library the next day, while their mother worked ... or visited Smith again.

TBC

[JEMMA]

Ramona worried about the conversation with her daughter. Had she said too much? Should she have said more? But the next morning, when her children acted completely normal towards her, laughing and talking about going swimming, she felt better.

She might have felt differently if she'd known what they were really going to do.

They waited until she was gone and then started to get ready to go. Debbie, thinking about her mother, and what she'd seen, suddenly felt that itch between her legs that meant it was time to visit the manor. Except they couldn't do that any more. She remembered the day before, as they lay clutched on the very bed she was sitting on, and her nipples tingled. She got up to go see her brother.



Robby was standing in his underwear, trying to decide on whether to wear shorts or jeans when his sister walked into the room, her blouse unbuttoned. She pulled it open to display her naked, bobbing breasts.



"Little Debbie has a treat for you," she announced, taking the blouse off.

Uncharacteristically, Robby, the male in the relationship, the one reputed to have no self control, chastised her.

"Debbie, we have things to do!"

"We can afford ten minutes," she said, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. "Come on, don't you want just a little taste?"



She knew how to get his juices flowing and watched with glee as the front of his briefs began to fill up and bulge.



"Of course you do," she teased, bending over to slide her shorts down and step out of them. She slid one hand from her breast into her panties and pressed her clit.

"Hey!" he said. "Isn't that my job?"

"I thought you wanted to go dig through musty old books," she kept teasing. "Besides, I did just fine all by myself for years before you got involved."

Robby knew how to tease too. He picked up his shorts and put a leg through them.



"Okay, I'll be at the library whenever you get finished." He pulled the shorts up and buttoned the waist.



"Robbeeeeeeee," she whined. "Don't be mean to meeeeee," she said as she dug her finger up into her pussy.

"You started it," he grinned.

But he unbuttoned and dropped his pants. Her pursuit of him gave him a feeling of power and he pulled his briefs off to stand, hands on hips, his prick strong and straight, pointing at her. He went to his bed and lay down on it, looking at her.



Debbie made a show of sliding her panties down her thighs. She stood when they were at her knees, spreading her feet as widely as her strained panties allowed, and ruffled her blond fur, slicking her middle finger between her lips.

"I'm wet," she said, her voice husky.



"I know how to make you even wetter," said her brother, reaching for his cock and stroking it.

Debbie removed her panties, kicking them with one foot, making them sail toward her brother. They hit the side of the bed and dropped to the floor. She walked languidly over to the bed and leaned over to watch as her brother stroked himself. She loved watching that thin skin uncover and then cover back up the head of his prick.

"Let me," she said, reaching for it.

Robby let his hand drop and sighed as he felt her warm hand grasp him. She played with him, playing with his foreskin. A bubble of white oozed out of the slit in the tip and Debbie suddenly thought of her mother, on her knees in front of Smith, sucking. She had been ready to let Smith squirt in her mouth, but he had wanted to put - what was it he called it? - his seed ... yes his seed in her mother's pussy, where it could make a baby. She stared at her brother's ... seed.



Acting on impulse, she leaned lower and flicked her tongue out to swipe that bubble with the tip of her tongue.

She tasted. It didn't taste like much of anything. A tiny bit bitter, but sweet somehow too. Her impulse suggested copying what her mother had done. Having seen her mother, who was obviously enjoying what she had been doing, it didn't seem too strange any more.

Robby felt heat surround the head of his cock. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, except maybe when he rubbed between his sister's pussy lips with the tip. But this was all around the knob. He lifted his head and stared at his sister, sucking his cock.



"Oh fuck, oh fuck ... oh ... oh," he moaned.

The heat all around his prick head left, leaving cool air that didn't feel good at all. Her blond head came up.

"You like that?" she asked, licking her lips.

"Ohhh pleeease do it some more," he pleaded.

She happily went back to sucking, loving the feel of his smooth skin. She could play with that cute foreskin with her tongue and she did so, moving her lips to force it off the head and then licking it as it tried to cover him again. She tasted more of the bitter/sweet stuff and swallowed it, along with saliva that seemed to be pouring into her mouth. She took more of his cock into her mouth, feeling downward with her lips, feeling the head trying to go into the back of her throat. She gagged, and didn't like that feeling, so she pulled back to play with just the head. She liked that better.



Robby had lain rigid while she loved his prick. He wanted to shoot, but the thought of doing that with her mouth down there was something he was just sure she'd be mad at if he did it. But it felt too good.

"Deb, something's going to happen," he warned, his voice tight as he tried not to make a horrible mistake. "You need to stop now!"

She did, raising her head. "Is it going to squirt?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, that feels too good."

She stared at her brother's eyes. "You taste good," she said.

Then she let her face fall and took him in her mouth again.

For Robby, it was like somebody had slapped him ten or fifteen times. He closed his eyes tightly as his face went into a grimace and his mouth opened wide. He felt it deep in his balls ... an ache that could only be eased by one thing. Then, before he could take another breath his prick started spouting ribbons of thick cum.



Debbie knew what to expect only insofar as she had seen him squirt before, and helped clean up the spots where they had made a mess on the bed. But confining that to just her mouth was much more difficult than she thought it would be. She got two swallows in before her mouth overflowed and her brother's sperm began leaking from the corners of her mouth. She felt like she was going to choke and pulled her mouth off of him, taking one spurt right on where, if she were a male, she might have a moustache. She could have posed for a commercial that wouldn't be seen for thirty years, in which the tag line was "Got Milk?" Except, of course, for the fact that her "milk" was now dripping down across her lips and chin and beginning to drop in strings down to her breasts. She swallowed twice more, her mouth clearing at last, and her hands came up to catch the mess. In concentration it tasted different and she realized that she loved the taste. She began licking her hands, cleaning them like a kitten cleans its paws.



Robby just lay there dazed, his prick oozing more of the stuff that puddled in his hair to join what had leaked out of her mouth before she gave up.

"I can't believe you did that," he panted.

Debbie licked her palm and the heel of one hand, even though they looked clean by now. "That was fun," she said. "But I'm really horny now." She looked at her brother. "Would you do that ... for me?" she asked.

Robby thought about that. He'd seen Smith doing that to his mother, and she had obviously loved it. But it seemed ... gross. Still, she had done it for him, and if his mother loved it, then maybe Debbie would love it too. He would do it for her ... even if he didn't really want to.



He rolled to make room for her on the bed and she arranged herself like she had the previous day, opening herself wide for him. He got on his hands and knees and slowly let his face get closer to her sex as he looked closely at her pussy. He noticed things he'd never noticed before ... fine hairs sprouting above her clit. Her clit itself was enlarged and clearly visible. He looked at it closely and realized it looked something like the tip of his own cock, with a tiny foreskin and an even tinier prick head peeping out of that hood of skin.

He sniffed.

The guys at school had talked about fish smell, but she didn't smell anything like any fish he'd ever been around. Her scent was strong, but not bad. One time he'd sniffed her panties which she'd left in the hamper and this didn't smell anything like that had either. Her fingers appeared in front of his eyes, pulling her pussy lips open, showing him the dark cavern that they hid. He decided to touch the tip of his tongue to her clit first ... to see what the taste was like. He couldn't see, and he pressed his stiff tongue against the organ much harder than he had planned.

"Ah..UHU!" she grunted and her hips thrust up off the bed, smashing into his face.



Robby's face was wet with her juices. Her odor was all around him now, and his lips were wet. He licked them automatically and found a spicy pungent taste that wasn't anything like what he had expected.

She tasted good!

Robby thrust his mouth and nose into her pussy, this time intending to press hard. His tongue led the way, seeking that dark hole she had exposed, and finding it. He tried to stick his tongue into that hole as far as he could. Even if it was only an inch or a little more, her reaction was more than satisfactory. Her voice made a grating sound and she cried out, her hands gripping his hair painfully. The fact that they pulled turned what had sounded like pain into something that he knew she loved. She jerked her hips around so much that his face lost contact and bounced against the inside of one thigh.



Robby went to his elbows, sliding his hands under his sister's buttocks and then he made an "o" of his lips and aimed for her clit. When he felt his lips close around it, he sucked and pulled her up into his face so she couldn't wiggle loose. Her clit came farther into his mouth than he thought it would and he found he could nip it with his teeth. Knowing that it would hurt if he bit her too hard, he alternated with sucking hard, nipping with his teeth, and swabbing it with his tongue.



Debbie went crazy. She screamed and her arms and head flailed. She sat up and then flopped back down. Her voice sounded agonized, but with a tone that made it crystal clear she was not in agony. Her pussy provided so much juice as she came that his face made wet squelching sounds, like a foot in a shoe filled with water as someone walked in it.



Debbie finally lay limp, her multiple orgasms having robbed her of the strength to do anything except drag breath into her lungs. Her legs lay akimbo, her pussy lips swollen with blood as Robby finally pushed himself away from her. He was painfully hard and, as he sat on his heels, he stroked his prick, staring at the luscious pussy he could still taste on his lips. Debbie looked up at him through her lashes, anticipating what she knew he'd do. And, when he groaned and leaned forward, she mustered the strength to lift her pussy up to meet his cock as it began unloading his semen-packed balls. He only meant to splash her pussy lips with his goo. But, as a half ounce of his thick spunk rocketed out of his prick, the head kissed those lips and sealed. All that spunk shot right up into her pussy. The only thing that saved what was left of her virginity was that, feeling that warm bath inside her pussy, she went weak again, and dropped her buttocks back to the bed.



Then, as he collapsed on top of her, instead of his prick boring into her pussy, it lay at the gates and the rest of his spunk went where he'd intended it to go, soaking her pussy lips and mons as he continued to spurt.



《负伤缠满绷带的妹妹被哥哥强行插入-1》高清播放http://www.olevod.com/index.php/vod/...d/1/nid/1.html



《手机拍摄》高清播放http://www.olevod.com/index.php/vod/...d/1/nid/1.html




TBC in the next Chapter....

[JEMMA]

Chapter Eight

An hour had passed since the teens discovered the unbelievable pleasures of oral sex. Satisfied for the moment and cleaned up, Robby and Debbie entered the doors of the Howard County Public Library, where Penny Martin, Head Librarian, proudly waited to serve the few customers who came her way.



Penny had only graduated from college with her cherished library science degree about six months earlier. The placement service at the college had found her a job offer before she even graduated. That she'd landed a job as "head librarian" almost immediately had impressed her parents. What she hadn't told them was that it was in a hick town in a remote county that couldn't pay for more than one staff member. So while she was the "head" librarian, she was also the only librarian. Still, it was a job, and the cost of living in Nettleton was workable, and she was basically thrilled. It would start her resumé, at least.

Some of the thrill wore off when she realized there might actually be days when the only patron she served might be old Mr. Breckenridge, who was retired and had nothing better to do than sit in the library and sleep with a book open in his lap. He did that pretty much every day, especially since the pretty young librarian had been hired. He was there today, in fact. Or perhaps the hospital would call and ask her to bring around a selection of books for the patients to read while they were laid up. It being summer time, no students came to do any research. They all had better things to do.

So, when Debbie and Robby walked in, they got good service.

Well, they got good service until Penny found out what they wanted. She could recite Dewey Decimal System numbers in her sleep, including history, but she quickly found that the history section of her library was a bit sparse when it came to history concerning the town, county and even state. There was a really nice selection of books on World War II which, she noticed, were actually in the wrong section, but she had nothing on the old house the town was named for.

All three of them were so intent on searching for a book on the shelves that they were startled when old Mr. Breckenridge shuffled up the aisle.

"Couldn't help but hear what these young'uns wanted," he said, his voice a little too loud. "Ain't a goin' tuh find it here," he added.

"Oh?" inquired Penny.

"Yup" said Breckenridge. "All that's down in tha basement," he slurred. "Madge packed it all away 'cause nobody ever wanted it."

Madge was the previous head librarian, who had retired herself and never ever came to the library after she locked the doors the final time.

"Ah kin show ya," he grinned. "Ah helped her put it down there."

The Howard County Public Library was, in reality, a house built in the twenties that had been taken over by the county for taxes during the Great Depression. Walls had been knocked down and replaced with pillars, making it into two rooms, one quite large and the other quite small. A bathroom had been added when inside plumbing came into vogue and the narrow steep wooden staircase still lurked behind a warped door in the wall that had been a kitchen wall in years past. The tiny kitchen now acted as an office.

Penny had descended those stairs a couple of times since being hired, but she didn't go down there often. The books she had found down there weren't suitable for display, being musty, thick with absorbed moisture, and falling apart for the most part. There were boxes and boxes of records of who had checked out what over the years. Basically it was all junk, but the cobwebs kept Penny at bay. She hated spiders. Her original plans to clean it all out had been put on hold.

Now, as she led the way down the stairs, and pulled the string that lit the bare bulb that hung by a cord from the floor joists above, she shivered. She made room for the kids, who came next, and Mr. Breckenridge, who eased his aching joints down the stairs entirely too slowly to suit Penny.

"Ain't as spry as I used to be," he mumbled, peering into the semi-darkness of the basement. "Should be over that-a-way." He pointed with a skinny finger, on which rested a discolored and too-long fingernail.

"That-a-way" turned out to be a far corner, which very little light penetrated into. Penny looked at the kids, who looked perfectly at home, as if they prowled around in dusty, damp and cobwebbed environs on a regular basis. She shuddered again.

"I don't want to get my clothes all dirty," she complained.

"That's okay," said Robby. "I'll move anything that needs moving."

Truth be told, they'd never have found anything if he hadn't been for Homer Breckenridge, who had a memory better than his appearance might have suggested. He shuffled unerringly to the far corner and pointed again.

"Look behind them boxes there," he said.

Robby had to move several boxes overflowing with old cards that had names scrawled on them, with dates after them. Why someone had kept them was a mystery, but had they been studied, they would have provided a remarkable history of what the townspeople of years gone by had read. Clouds of dust billowed into the air as Robby restacked boxes on top of other boxes. Finally he uncovered one battered wooden crate that was neatly packed with ledgers, a few books, and a number of yellowed newspapers.

Penny directed them to take the crate upstairs, trying to get out of the basement as quickly as she could. Once upstairs again, they unpacked the wooden container on a table. Homer lifted several of the folded newspapers and opened them with a surprisingly gentle touch. They all appeared to be editions of "The Nettleton Crier". There were no pictures to speak of, but huge printed headlines were scattered all over the front, as well as some drawings that depicted various things, including advertisements for various medicines and other items for sale by merchants of the town. Debbie's eyes were drawn to a hand drawing of a woman wearing a hat and a dress just like Debbie had put on during dress-up play many times. It looked much more full below the waist than it did when Debbie wore hers.

The ledgers turned out to contain information about the mines. One thin book, in surprisingly good condition was titled "The Nettleton Empire". It was a handwritten history of the Nettleton mining operation. The last entry said only, "Company sold in probate after the tragic incident."

Penny, her curiosity whetted by actually having something to do, began leafing through the book, while Homer pointed out various newspaper articles.

"I 'member some of that now," he wheezed. "Sad times they were. Those poor little babies."

"What babies?" asked Debbie.

Homer's eyes went out of focus. "They wuz two little 'uns left after the momma and daddy wuz killed. They caught them two what dun it and 'lectrocuted 'em. 'Lectrocuted the feller what hired 'em too. Bunch of us drove up to the pen'tentiary and stood outside to watch the lights dim. I wuz there when they fried. Saw the whole thing."

"What?" asked Robby shocked. "What are you talking about?"

"Killers ... hired killers" said Homer explosively. "Snuck in thar and kilt the parents one night. They wuz a little boy and a little gurl in there when it happened. Found 'em hidin' somewhere in that old place. Them killers said they'd have dun fer the kids too if'n they'd a bin able tuh find 'em." He sighed. "Them kids found thar kin all slaughtered and raised the cry."

Debbie gasped. She had been leafing through newspapers and pointed at one.

"Here it is!" she said.

Everyone peered at the huge type on the front page.

"PILLARS OF COMMUNITY SLAIN IN VILE MURDER!" screamed the headline, which looked to be three inches tall and took up the top quarter of the page. The story went on to describe, in gruesome detail, what the town constable had found when he was summoned to the Nettleton Mansion by a hysterical woman employed as a cook by the Nettletons. The cook was in her room in the carriage house when Robert E. Nettleton, age six and his sister Elizabeth R. Nettleton, age four, burst into the room crying and covered in blood. She had fearfully gone with them to find their parents slaughtered in the master bedroom. The children had been hugging their dead parents, trying to get them to get up, and when that failed, had gone to get the cook. The investigation had revealed the house had been ransacked and a number of items appeared to be missing. All other staff members in the mansion had been gone that night to a dance in town.

There was another article on the same page in one corner that reminded readers of the death of an unidentified Nettleton boy at the hands of would-be kidnappers and, later, the murder of Constance Nettleton in the very same room that this crime had taken place in, some forty years earlier. It was suggested that a demonic presence inhabited the house, and that this demon required history to repeat itself.

The newspapers had been stacked in date order, and the next day's edition also had a banner headline.

"MURDERERS CAUGHT RED HANDED!" That story told how a posse had been formed and had fanned out across the county using the technology of the day, the internal combustion automobile to speed them to points where a cordon had been established. When two blood spattered men carrying a gunny sack were observed, they were taken into custody and found to have the Nettleton silver in the bag, as well as other items identified by servants as property of the slain Nettletons.

Another slightly smaller headline at the right lower corner of the front page said:

"NETTLETON ORPHANS REMOVED FROM SAD STRUCTURE."

That story was about how there were no relatives to be found, and the children had been removed to a boarding house where they would be cared for until their murdered father's will could be located. That such an instrument existed was clear, since Mr. Wilfred Tower, an attorney in the town, swore before the circuit judge that he had executed such a document within the last year. The will had not yet been found.

In another paper with a later date, there was another front page story with a drawing of a man, strapped in a large wooden chair, his head hooded, with wires going from the chair to a wall. The story told of the swift trial and execution of the murderers, and the man who hired them to perform their grisly task. It also verified Homer's assertion that the henchmen had admitted they'd have killed the children too if they'd been able to find them in the house.

The next paper in line was dated five months later, with much smaller headlines, but still on the front page. That story told of the finding of the will. Details of what was in the will were sketchy, but the disposition of the two orphans was discussed, identifying one Margaret Swales as having been identified in the will as the guardian of the children.

The next paper didn't appear to have anything in it at first glance, but, on the inside they found a small article that had the headline:

"Orphaned waifs' ordeal continues" That story told of Mrs. Swales inability to care for the Nettleton children due to her confinement to a sanitarium, and of their assignment of a new guardian. The entire article was no more than seven lines long.

There were additional articles, quite small on average, that mentioned this or that milestone in a Nettleton child's life. There was one that spoke of their entry into the public school system, using only "the Nettleton children" as identifying data, and another one later that heralded Robert Nettleton's graduation from school and his impending assignment as a missionary in "blackest Africa".

By the time they were finished going through the main documents it was clear that, what had riveted the townspeople in the beginning, took on less and less significance as time went on. The last newspaper article they could find was about the house itself, and how two young men had been apprehended trying to sneak into it on a dare. The article said it had been shuttered up until the return of "the present owner", who was not identified by name.

Debbie looked at her Bulova wristwatch. They had been reading for two hours, and there was a lot of materials in the crate no one had examined yet.

"Miss Martin, can you keep this somewhere for us until we can come back?" she asked.

Penny looked askance at the crate. "As far as I'm concerned you can take it all with you." She dusted her hands by clapping them together. "That doesn't really belong in the library," she pronounced. "If anything it should be in the museum or someplace like that ... if anybody wants it at all." She had, after all, only been in town for six months, and had no curiosity about the Nettleton Mansion. In truth, she had never even been by the place.

Debbie began repacking the crate immediately. She planned on taking it home and going through it more carefully. They had learned a lot, but she knew there was more information in there and she wanted to know that too. Robby carried the crate on his shoulder as they walked back to the house.

Homer Breckenridge tried to accompany them, giving them unasked for advice.

"You'uns stay clear of that place. It's hainted. The poor souls of all them murdered folk drift through there at night. Ah seen em mahsef."

Debbie looked at him curiously. "When did you see them?" she asked.

The old man smiled, revealing he had lost some teeth along the way. "Ah used to walk by there sometimes. Ah seen lights through them winders. Cain't nobody get in there any more. Them lights is the ghosts of all them Nettletons, you mark mah words."

Debbie had a pretty good idea of what those lights actually were. Those lights the old man had seen were from the candles she and Robby had used to explore. They hadn't thought anybody would be looking through the trees at the old place, and hadn't been all that careful about using those candles.

"How cum ya'll want to know 'bout that place anyways?" asked Homer.

"There's a man moving in there," said Debbie, still thinking of whether anyone else might have seen their candles.

"Ya don't say!" said Homer. "Well, he'd have tuh be a Nettleton. They ain't never sold that house. It's got tuh be that little orphan boy iffen you ask me." He scratched at his beard. "Mov'in in there huh?" he mused. "I never heered 'bout that."

Robby was uncomfortable at the man's interest in the manor. "I think it's supposed to be a secret or something," he said.

Homer stopped. His joints ached from all the walking they'd already done. He was thinking now about a pint of whiskey he'd hidden away at Miss Dixie's boarding house, where he had a room, and where alcohol was strictly forbidden. "Wahl, you'uns member whut ah told yuh. They's ghosts 'round that place. And if they's a Nettleton back there, then there'll be death 'round that place too. Mark mah words!"

The two teens hurried on, leaving the old man behind.

"You think he's right?" asked Robby, puffing a little. The crate was heavy and awkward on his shoulder.

"He must be," said Debbie. "At least about it being a Nettleton moving back in. That's what Mister Smith said. Who else would even want to?" she asked. "But that doesn't explain how she knows Smith. How could she have known him?"

"I don't know, but didn't she say Smith had been gone somewhere for a long time. And didn't the paper say that boy went into the missionaries? Maybe Smith is the little boy!" Robby was excited now.

"That still doesn't say how Mom would know him," said Debbie doubtfully.

"Well, Mom's about the same age, and the paper said he went to public school. Maybe they went to school together." Robby sounded convinced already.

By the time they got home they expected their mother within the hour. For some reason they didn't want to share what they'd found with her, so they hid the crate in the garage. They figured it would be safe there because that room was just slightly too full of junk to park the car in unless it was going to storm or hail or something like that. Just in case, they piled an old tarp on top of it. Then they had to clean up. Both had smudges on their skin and clothing from the dusty library basement. Robby wanted to play as they changed clothes and used wash cloths to clean their arms and faces, but Debbie pushed him away.



"We don't have time. You'll have to be patient and wait." She smiled at the look on his face. Her mother kept telling her to be patient. Somehow it felt good to make somebody else wait for something he wanted too. She teased him by rubbing her hand across his crotch, and then ran, laughing from the bathroom as he gave chase.

《床破了》高清播放http://www.olevod.com/index.php/vod/...d/1/nid/1.html


《不必要地外出》高清播放http://www.olevod.com/index.php/vod/...d/1/nid/1.html

TBC

[JEMMA]

Ramona drove home quickly, speeding a little. She wanted to go see Robert again tonight ... couldn't wait to see him in fact ... but there were the children to deal with. She knew they were curious and sensed they were suspicious. If she didn't have an iron-clad reason to go visit "Smith" they'd get even more suspicious. She had played over and over again in her mind the various ways she could introduce "Smith" as their uncle, and had tried to imagine how she would tell them of their hidden heritage. In every scenario she had dreamed up it all fell to pieces. She had no idea how she'd end up doing it. There was dread in her about that.

That dread, in juxtaposition with her excitement at meeting with Robert again ... being loved by Robert again ... made her jumpy and irritable during the day. Her co-workers chalked it up to her change of jobs, and to having to deal with the strange man who represented Robert Nettleton.

After having rushed to get home, when she parked, Ramona sat in the car for a few moments, ambivalent about getting out. She still hadn't thought of a way to break away from her children and go see Robert. It was when she reached for her briefcase that the idea came to her.

She got out of the car to the sound of laughter and screams. Debbie came running around the corner of the house, looking over her shoulder, her hair flying. She was flushed and laughing and Ramona's heart lurched in her chest. Her daughter was so beautiful and healthy and carefree that it almost made her cry. She had to drop the briefcase and put her hands out to avoid being run down by her daughter, who didn't know that either her mother or the car were there.



Just as Debbie ran into her mother's arms, Robby came charging around the corner too, growling and roaring like some kind of animal. But the look on his face was one of glee, and not anger.

There was a general pile-up of bodies as Ramona was pushed up against the car by her two children. There were gasps and shouts from all three, who ended up in a group hug that wiggled and moved as Robby tried to tickle first his sister and then his mother too, growling again.



"Stop!" laughed Ramona, pushing both of them away in self defense. Her children moved away from her, but eyed each other warily.

"What on earth has gotten into you two?" she said, her heart thudding in her chest as the adrenaline rush of being run into subsided.

"Robby was being mean to me," whined Debbie in a voice that made it clear she wasn't in the least bit angry or upset.

"You'll know when I'm really being mean to you!" he growled. "I'll show you!" and he darted for her, his hands reaching for her ribs.

Then she was off and running like a deer again, back around the same corner with Robby in full chase, like they were ten instead of almost grown. Ramona grinned and bent over to pick up her briefcase, shaking her head and going toward the door. Life was good, she decided, regardless of the ups and downs they were experiencing. Life was just pretty good.



While their mother went into the house to fix supper Debbie led her brother on a chase into the woods next to the fence to the manor. She tripped on a root and flailed her arms for balance, going down on the soft humus covering of the forest floor. Naturally, Robby caught up with her. She gripped the black iron of the fence bars and gained her feet just as his hands went on either side of her, imprisoning her as his body crushed hers against the fence.

"Got you!" he panted.

"Only because I tripped," she said in a fake sulk.

Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she, too, breathed in heavily. Her hands went to his waist. The chase had awakened something in them that their ancient ancestors might have felt during a pursuit like that. The purpose of their ancestors' chase, however, was not for fun and games, but to make sexual conquest. Debbie responded to that ancient drive. She had been caught, and she surrendered. She leaned forward to kiss her brother.



Robby responded, and their kiss turned torrid as their hands roamed all over each other's bodies. The drive to reap the fruits of the chase was strong in both of them. As Debbie felt her brother's fingers open the last of the buttons of her blouse, though, a voice cut through the stillness of the forest.

"What do we have here?"

The teens sprang apart as if they had been goosed with a bare 220 volt wire, and whirled to find Smith, dressed in what they now knew was his disguise, his black hair and wild beard covering his face, and his body draped in the ill fitting black trench coat.

"I have found two little rabbits, playing in my woods," said the gravelly voice, which they also knew was not the man's normal one.



Both youths were wild eyed and panicked at having been caught in an amorous embrace. And this man knew they were brother and sister! Their world teetered on the edge of disaster.

In such circumstances, there is a normal response the body makes. It is sometimes called the "fight or flight syndrome", and the body prepares itself automatically for either of those two options. Normally, that means the body, usually in its placid state, is infused with various hormones and chemicals on a more or less instant basis, and the results can be astonishing. Adrenaline is one of the primary hormones released during a stressful incident. Debbie's body had already produced a measurable quantity of adrenaline in the excitement of the chase and the expectation that sexual activity was going to occur. Now, the fright and anguish she felt gave her an extra shot.



Basically, she was hopped up on hormones to the point that her response was to fight, rather than flee. A second consideration might have been that Smith was on the other side of the iron fence, providing a certain amount of unstated security. A third aspect of the confrontation was that her unconscious mind keyed in on Smith's use of the term "my woods", which was in direct contravention to how Debbie thought about "her woods".

"You horrible old man!" she shouted, her mind relating to the disguise, rather than the much younger man who wore it. "How dare you spy on us in our woods!" In her frustration and rage at her present circumstances, she bent to the forest floor and her hand grabbed a fistful of matted leaves and soil, which she then flung through the bars. The detritus fluttered, expanding, and fell to the ground inside the fence, feet short of hitting the man. Her blouse gaped open, though only the creamy skin between her breasts was exposed.



"I hate you. I hate you!" screamed the girl, stomping her feet in a tantrum of rage. "You're ruining everything!"

Smith didn't move when she threw the handful of leaves at him. His beard made it difficult to tell what his face looked like, but it moved in ways that made it look like he was smiling.

"Well, well, the little rabbit has fangs, she does." He stared at the two, looking at Robby, who was poised on the balls of his feet. "So you feel these are your woods too," he mused. "That, little rabbit is a very interesting thing to me. Perhaps you could tell me why that is the way you feel?"



His complete dismissal of Debbie's hostile speech and actions were unsettling, as if he felt completely secure, and was neither offended or worried about them. And, adrenaline is a short acting hormone. It breaks down in the blood stream after releasing glucose for the muscles to use, leaving the host much weaker ... and just as suddenly as it made the host feel strong and ready to fight.

But there was a little fight left in Debbie. She pulled her blouse together, buttoning two buttons without looking at them as her eyes blazed at Smith.



"I wouldn't tell you anything!" she snarled.

Smith's beard moved as if he were smiling again. "Well, then, perhaps your mother might be able to shed some light on this issue? Perhaps I should mention to her that I met you in ... your woods?"

His unspoken threat to tell their mother just what he saw them doing in ... their woods ... hung heavily in the still air.

Debbie looked stricken, her face red, and tears flushed her eyes so much she couldn't see. She used the heels of her hands to rub her eyes dry and felt fury that she cried in front of this man. Her emotions were at such a fever pitch though, that she was virtually speechless now.

Robby stepped forward. "We've done nothing to harm you," he said, his voice heavy. "You have no call to ..." He couldn't put into words what changes Smith might be able to make in their lives.

Smith, standing so placidly on the other side of the fence, shrugged his bulky shoulders.

"It is not my intention to cause either of you pain," he said seriously. "Quite the opposite, in fact. But discussion of that must be for another time." He looked down the fence line in both directions. "I have my survey to finish. Perhaps we can discuss this at some time when emotions are not so high."

Debbie's emotions were like the blips of a heart monitor, jumping from low to high, though in a much less steady beat than a healthy heart would make.



"Please ..." she pleaded. "Please don't tell our mother." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Do not worry, little rabbit," said the man, turning to face down the fence line. "I may be a horrible old man, but I have a heart."

Then, ignoring them, he trudged along the fence away from them.

Left alone, the threat receding from them, and their sudden gift of strength just as suddenly gone, the teens slumped. Debbie flowed into her brother's arms, but this time it was for comfort, rather than erotic thrill.

"What are we going to do?" she moaned. It was a question she was asking a lot these days, but it didn't seem to have an answer.



《想被宠坏的女仆》高清播放http://www.olevod.com/index.php/vod/...d/1/nid/1.html

TBC in next Chapter......