Death by Fucking © 2005 by Andrew Wiggin
Chapter 15 Children
of the
Damned
Andrew’s Story Telempathy
It happened one
night. I had been going down on Dee Dee,
giving her one of my patented ‘make her talk’ jobs. Because of her fragile condition (she is
seven months preggers after all) I relented after only about fifteen minutes of
gentle torture and got her off big time.
Her screams could have woken the dead. But it wasn’t the dead she woke.
I lay there with my head
on her enlarged belly. She is incredibly
beautiful pregnant. Her face is
aglow. Her tits are sensitive, her skin
radiates health. I hear Donnie and Deirdre
complain about how fat and ugly they are, but they just don’t get it.
They are ravishingly
beautiful. Any man looking at them must
be torn between wanting to protect them from harm and wanting to fuck them
senseless. That’s the way I feel every day
of my life. I spend fifty percent of my
life protecting them from harm. I spend
fifty percent of my life fucking them senseless. It seems like a fair trade-off to me.
I was hugging her gently,
my head on her protuberant belly when I felt them. They weren’t kicking. Dee Dee felt nothing physical, I’m sure. I felt them inside of me. In my head, I guess. It was a presence. It was two presences. I just knew
there were two things that were
touching me, aware of me. I felt like
the theme song of the Twilight Zone
should be playing in the background.
Dee Dee
didn’t even notice. She was trying to
recover from her most recent orgasm, knowing that there were more on the
agenda. But those orgasms might have to
wait.
My life hasn’t been exactly
normal since I met Deirdre, but this took the cake. I suddenly knew that she was having
twins. Of course we expected her to have
twins. There is a precedent after all;
only like four generations. But we
didn’t bother with ultrasound or any other means of determining sex or number
or children. We opted for going as
natural as possible.
But here were these two
motes, these tiny intelligences, and they were touching my being. Had Dee Dee woken them up with her
screams? Well that’s a hell of a way to
come to life: Mom screams in orgasm, child wakes up.
Is it me? My first reactions were a mixture of awe,
wonderment, disbelief and cynicism. My
cynicism derived from the possibility, nay likelihood, that I was losing my
mind. When one’s head is invaded by two
other presences, believe me the surest explanation is that you’ve gone
nuts. All other possible explanations
pall on the probability scale next to ‘you’ve lost your mind’. That one approaches one hundred per cent, and
all the other possible explanations fall into the realm of ‘not bloody
likely’.
I realize that a madman
who diagnoses himself has a lunatic for a doctor. But my gut feeling was that I hadn’t gone
crazy.
I put the ‘I’ve lost my
mind’ scenario on the back burner, willing to listen to my instinct that maybe
I wasn’t crazy. If I wasn’t, then the
second most likely scenario is that I was feeling the presence of my children.
What was I feeling? I tried to analyze it. It wasn’t thought. It was more like emotion: bewilderment,
wonder, mild surprise, something like that.
It was telempathy. Is that a word? If it wasn’t, it is now. They were projecting their emotions onto me. It’s a possible theory anyway. My theory is: these things, these fetuses,
these future people, have no consciousness or at least no conscious thought. All they can do is feel, am I right?
Perhaps they are
conscious in the womb, almost certainly are, otherwise why the kicking
deal? But what could they think? They have no language. They are in this warm wet place, hearing
garbled noises through a wall of flesh, feeling the beat of their mother’s
heart. They were inside of Deirdre. I speak from experience: they were in
heaven.
Does this telempathy only
go one way? I can feel them. Can they feel me? I was already starting to be overwhelmed with
emotion.
These motes that had
invaded my head, they were my babies! I
was flooded with love, tears were in my eyes.
My arms tightened a bit around Dee Dee’s waist. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to hurt them. I wanted to hold all three of them to my
heart forever.
I felt their response! They knew what it was to be loved. They were content. And slowly I felt them leave me. They were going back to sleep happy.
Deirdre was looking at
me. “Andrew what’s the matter? Why are you crying, sweetie?”
I merely shook my
head. I felt it best to sit on this one
for a while. Who knows if it would ever
happen again? And why should I worry Dee
Dee about the state of my mental health when she is in her delicate
condition?
I said, “I’m just
happy. How couldn’t I be happy? I have the most beautiful wife in the world,
and she’s ready to give birth to our children.
I’m just happy, baby.”
Dee Dee smiled
warmly. “I love you, Andrew. I hope you’re right about children. If it is only one child, I’ll never be able
to lose all of this weight. I feel like
a tub of lard.”
I could only respond with
the obvious. “You look like an angel.
There has never been a more beautiful prospective mother. You glow.”
She pulled me up to
her. We lay side-by-side basking in each
other’s company. This was the woman I
had loved at first sight. Well I had
lusted after at first sight. Maybe love
didn’t come into the picture for a day or two.
My emotions weren’t exactly under control back then.
And now she was giving
birth to our children. Our emotions had
to be the same ones shared by men and women since the invention of pair
bonding. It’s a primal feeling that the race would continue, your line will
continue. We are fulfilling the primary
purpose of our existence.
I held her to me and we
kissed. Again she tasted herself on my
lips. It seemed fitting somehow,
completing a cycle like that. We are
forever, Dee Dee and I.
What is extremely weird
about our situation is that in an hour or two I would be with Donnie
experiencing the very same emotions all over again. Talk about your Déjà vu?
Would Donnie’s babies
also be telempathatic? Hey, I’ve got to
develop a whole new word structure here.
Not to digress, but I could become famous as the man who introduced the
term telempathy to the world. Yes, some
people talk of telepathy as if it might exist.
But I’ve got something real that does exist and no one has thought of it
yet. Well if they thought of it, nobody
told me. I better pass it through my
spell-checker before I make any claims.
Anyway, what of Donnie’s
babies? Are there two? Are they telempathatic? Why would they be? Why wouldn’t they be? Is this part of the ‘next generation’ or have
the dice just come up sevens for Dee Dee and I?
If it is a genetic thing
related to the way Dee Dee and I mixed our DNA at the time of conception, then
what is the likelihood of Donnie’s and my DNA mixing the same way? Not very, I would imagine.
But maybe this is a trait
that breeds true. Had you thought of
that? (Damn I’m sounding more and more
like those two women every day, if you know what I mean.) What if whatever combination of genes that
has apparently developed within Deirdre is the natural result of the
combination of our gene sets, rather than some fluke of nature, some aberration,
some mutation?
That would answer a lot
of questions. Well, it would create a
lot more questions than it answers, but it would answer some questions that
have been in my mind for quite some time.
The biggy is: how can I tell them
apart?
Yes, that is a question
that has bugged me for a while. I don’t
do anything special. I haven’t noticed
any blemish on one twin that isn’t on the other. They are both blemish-free in my eyes.
No one in their lives has
ever been able to tell them apart before, not even their parents. How bad is that? But I can.
I can tell them apart. Without
even thinking about it I can tell them apart.
Do we have a seed of empathy between us, so deeply ingrained that we
don’t even know that it exists? Is that
it?
And is that seed set to
grow even more empathy in our offspring, empathy to the point of
telempathy? This is an interesting
development, assuming it is a development.
IAM might be breeding for intelligence and might end up with telempathy
on top of it. How do you like them
apples?
Of course, this is just a
theory I’m working on. Hey, I’ve only
had one experience with Dee Dee’s babies.
I still haven’t established my own sanity yet. That will be the first test. Then let’s see if I can feel Donnie’s babies. Well, that still won’t establish my sanity,
will it? Rather the opposite, I should
think.
There’s only one thing
for me to do now. Give Dee Dee those
promised orgasms. The rest will have to
wait.
Donnie’s Story
It was late Sunday
morning when my water broke. I was in
the bathroom performing my morning rituals when it happened. Strangely, I wasn’t nervous or scared. I calmly went downstairs to inform Andrew and
Deirdre.
Andrew was in the den
watching the pre-game hype. I knew that
he had his Heineken in the refrigerator and was thinking about making his
noon-time run to McDonald’s for his Big Mac.
He has habits that he lives by.
Today they would have to wait.
“Andrew, my water
broke. We need to go to the
hospital.”
He looked at me with a
confused expression on his face. “Your
water broke? Are you sure?”
I said, “Andrew it’s hard
to miss something like that.”
He was in denial. “But it’s Sunday. The Browns are playing the Ravens! It’s a grudge match! These kids won’t be born till tomorrow,
right?”
I said to him, “Go call
our doctor. Tell him what happened, and
then ask him what we should do.”
I was headed to the
kitchen to tell Deirdre when I bumped into her coming the other way. We both said, “Guess what! My water broke!”
We hugged each other and
laughed. Tears were streaming down our
faces. I told Dee Dee, “You tell Andrew,
will you? He’s going to have a heart
attack, and he’s going to miss his football game.”
Dee Dee waddled into the
den with me waddling behind her. She
said, “Andrew, our water broke.”
Andrew said, “What is
this, an epidemic? Are you sure? This is Sunday, you know.”
Dee Dee laughed. “Andrew, get a grip. We’re having a baby! We’re having babies. Today; do you get it? You’re going to be a father today.”
We have different ways of
dealing with our Andrew. Deirdre has him
wrapped around her little finger. He’ll
do anything she wants almost without question.
I handle our relationship with laughter.
He does anything I want too, come to think of it. Maybe he’s wrapped around my finger too.
Anyway, she convinced him
to take our impending deliveries seriously.
He called our doctor, who told him to take us to the hospital where she
would meet us.
As we got into the car,
Andrew said, “Doesn’t it strike you as a bit odd that both of you had your
water break at the same time?”
Dee Dee and I looked at
each other. We’ve always done everything
together. We get our periods
together. Why shouldn’t our water break
together? Such was our assumption. Andrew felt differently.
“Did it occur to you that
perhaps both sets of children want to be born together?”
I laughed. “Andrew,
you’ve had some unusual theories in your life, but that’s the strangest.”
He looked smug. “We’ll see.
We’ll see.”
We were over an hour from
the hospital, Memorial Health in
We needed to be in the
same delivery room. We had made
arrangements through our doctor to arrange that, even though it was most
unusual. We didn’t know that we would deliver at the same time, but both of us need
Andrew to be with us.
I’m not one to have my
husband wait in the hall, smoking cigarettes and feeling miserable. Well, the hospital doesn’t allow smoking and
anyway Andrew doesn’t smoke, uh, cigarettes.
And I don’t want him being miserable.
And I need him with me. And so
does Deirdre.
We planned on natural
childbirth. We’d all been to the
classes. We read the books. We watched the videos. We weren’t a bit concerned. And our doctor was quite satisfied with the
progress of our pregnancies.
We went through the
process, the dilations becoming greater as the frequency of contractions
increased, just as all mothers go through the process. Andrew was looking at the clock, calculating
the amount of time gone by in his precious ball game.
But time passed, we were suffering
just a bit. One should suffer a bit
during these times. It makes the
experience more starkly real. Too much
suffering makes it too real. We were in
a birthing unit, with parallel birthing beds.
Andrew’s opinion was that
we should remain upright for as long as possible to allow gravity to help with
the process. I think he read that in
some science fiction book so it must be true.
And then they started
popping out. Andrew was between us,
holding a hand of each of us. Dee Dee
gave birth first. It was a girl! Shortly thereafter I gave birth. It was a girl! Not too long after that, Dee Dee gave birth
again. It was a girl! Then I gave birth again. It was a girl!
As each baby came out,
the doctor placed her on our naked breasts and allowed us to talk to her,
comfort her, warm her. Then they took
the tiny little thing to be cleaned, dried, weighed, and wrapped in a
blanket. Andrew sat on a chair and
waited. Each baby was crying as the
nurse was cleaning her. Since Deirdre
and I were still in labor, the nurse took each of the first two babies and gave
them to Andrew, one in each arm.
They cried the entire
time they were with the nurse. But as
soon as they were in Andrew’s arms, they quieted right down. The nurse was amazed. Here was this large, lovely boy holding two
tiny, tiny babies. The little ones
seemed perfectly content in those loving arms.
They must take after their mothers.
Those are the arms I want to die in.
Andrew didn’t say
anything to the babies. He held them and
looked in their eyes, although it is my understanding that new-born babies
can’t track with their eyes for a while after birth. They just seemed to be comfortable with him.
When our second batch was
prepared by the nurses, Andrew gave a baby each to Dee Dee and me. They were as identical as peas in a pod, and
I certainly was unsure which baby was which.
But Andrew just handed
one to me and said, “This is Edie.”
Then he handed the other
baby to Deirdre and said, “This is Emma.”
He seemed to know and I
believed him. We had agreed on the names
Edie and Edda. Deirdre and Andrew had
decided on Emma and Elle. I think the
Elle name had something to do with a particular fashion model Andrew
favors.
The nurse handed our
second pair to Andrew. Again they calmed
right down and seemed content just to be held by our beloved. The nurse was shaking her head: four babies,
all identical, from two different, identical mothers. It was a most unusual birthing.
Andrew came over between
the two of us. He leaned over and kissed
Deirdre. Then he leaned over and kissed
me. He put everything he had into that
kiss, because exhausted as I was, I still felt it to my soul. All I wanted to do was sleep.
Dee Dee’s Story
Something strange is
going on with Andrew and the children.
They absolutely never cry when he is near them. What kind of a spell has he cast over
them? They adore him, and yet he barely
speaks when he is around them. They just
have a rapport that I don’t understand.
Andrew not speaking is a major turn of events from our point of view.
With Donnie and me they
act like normal babies. Poor Andrew must
get up every night to get the babies for feeding time. We are lucky that all of them are on the same
feeding schedule. How likely is
that?
So Andrew brings them to
us. We apply one to each breast and let
the feeding frenzy begin. Andrew helps
with the burping process, the girls eat their fill, and then Andrew puts them back to bed.
They are all so beautiful
and all so identical that Donnie and I have no idea which two we are
feeding. Andrew assures us that he is
giving each of us our own babies, but we only have his word for that. Not that it matters. We long ago decided that we would be group
mothers. I may have given birth to Emma
and Elle. Donnie may have given birth to
Edie and Edda. And I mean may. We have no idea who gave birth to who. It doesn’t matter anyway, because we are the
mother of each of them.
But Andrew claims to
know. He tells them apart, he
confidently picks them up and calls them by name. Who knows?
Maybe he can tell them
apart. I think he may have talents that
Donnie and I never guessed at.
But it would be nice to
know exactly what is going on here. We
have five month old babies who think the world revolves around their
father. Their mothers are merely their
food source.
I finally decided to
force the truth out of him. There is
something he isn’t telling us. I don’t
know what and I don’t know why. I just know.
I confronted him after
the morning feeding. The babies had
stayed up for almost two hours, then Andrew put them
back to bed. He touches them on the
forehead as he places them in the crib and they fall right asleep.
I made him sit with
us. We were still in bed, Donnie and
I. These feedings at all hours of the
day and night are a bit trying. Of
course, Andrew is right there with us, and yet he never seems to be tired.
I asked him, “Andrew,
isn’t it about time you told us? We are
your wives, you know.”
He looked surprised. I know that look. It’s his ‘I’m surprised’ look when he was
really not a bit surprised. “Told you
what, Dee Dee?”
I was a bit touchy. I’m tired.
“Andrew, don’t make me go through this again. You always know exactly what I’m talking
about before I even ask the question.
Yet you play innocent as if you have no idea where I am going with
it. Do we have to torture you, or are
you just going to spit it out?”
He was reluctant, I can
tell. It was as if he thought we
wouldn’t like the answer. But Andrew
could never keep anything from us.
“Deirdre, do you think
I’m insane?”
So he wants to play it
this way, huh? Okay, I’ll play. “No Andrew, we don’t think you are
insane. Does that make you feel better?”
He forced the words out.
“The girls and I understand each other.”
“We know that. We just don’t know how or why. We’ve been with you a whole lot longer, we’re
thirty-six years old, we’re doctoral candidates, and we don’t understand you. How can four five-month old babies understand
you?”
He said “I think they
know me on a molecular level. Something like that anyway.
We’ve been in contact with each other since two months before they were
born. Seriously. Dee Dee, you remember the time. We were engaged in a little hanky panky of
the oral kind. I had just ‘made you
talk’ so to speak. Afterwards you
thought I was upset. I was upset. I had just been in contact with Elle and Emma
while they were in the womb. It was just
about that time that Edie and Edda ‘woke up’ as well. And I’ve been with them ever since.”
“It’s an extension of my
‘chemical attractors’ theory, I think.
It has to do with you and me and Donnie having this attraction that
seems to go beyond logic, beyond reason.
Well I think that the genetic makeup of the three of us combined in such
a way that the girls and I have a biological rapport, the ability for our minds
to touch, somehow. Who am I, Uri Geller
or John Edwards? I know what happens. I don’t know why.”
Donnie said, “Well what
happens?”
“I can feel their emotions. I call it telempathy. We are in some sort of empathetic rapport
with each other. They feel me when I try
to project to them. Maybe they feel me
before I try to project to them. How
should I know? We’re talking about five
month old babies who have yet to say ‘mama’.
I certainly can’t have a discussion with them about empathetic
projection, now can I?”
Donnie and I were both
flabbergasted; and maybe a bit skeptical, given the nature of the claim. We’ve been aware of the rapport between
Andrew and the girls. Well this
explanation is as good as any. But he
knew them before they were born? Please.
“So how do you keep them
from crying?” Donnie asked.
“I just try to project a
feeling of love and comfort. I let them
know that we understand what they want and are going to give it to them. It’s my understanding that young babies cry
to let their mothers know they need something.
They usually cry until they get it – food usually. But the girls know that what they need is
coming and don’t need to cry anymore.
That’s my theory, anyway.”
Donnie and I were both
moving our mouths but nothing was coming out.
Finally I spit out, “My God! No
wonder they calm down when you are with them.
But how?
How does it work?”
Andrew had seven months
to figure this one out. Knowing him he
has a theory. I just can’t believe he
kept quiet about it for so long.
He said, “Sorry for
holding out on you, but I wanted to be sure you saw there was something going on between the girls and
me before opening up with you. I didn’t
want the guys with the little white coats to come and take me away.”
“I’ve read stories about
telepathy, things like that. The
explanation is always that man only uses a small percentage of his available
brain power. Since from an evolutionary
point of view, that is an impossible proposition – if we didn’t need it, it
would never have evolved – they further claim that telepathy (or whatever other
special power is being used) was once used by man but then lost, though the
ability remained, just lying dormant.”
“Naah!
Sorry, but I just don’t buy that explanation. Those people who say that man only uses a
small percentage of his available brain power are banking on the fact that
science is still learning about the brain.
Just because we don’t know what a part of the brain is used for, doesn’t
mean it isn’t being used. Besides which,
I’m pretty sure that current science has closed a lot of the gap about brain
utilization. What they thought was just
extra capacity back in the 1950’s now is something vital and obvious in 2004.”
“So where does that leave
me and the kids? Have you ever heard of
the term ‘exaptation’? It’s a term that
refers to something that evolved to perform one function, then
was seized upon to be used for an entirely different function. The classic example is bird’s feathers. How could bird feathers evolve? When the first birds or semi-birds flew, they
already had feathers. Evolution doesn’t
plan in advance. Evolution doesn’t plan
at all. So how could birds evolve feathers
for flight before they had flight?”
“The obvious answer is:
feathers weren’t evolved for flight.
They were evolved to provide insulation, maybe, keeping the animal
warm. It was only later that one of
those creatures that had evolved feathers – a dinosaur of course – happened to
work its way to a point where it started to fly. The feathers made it easier, but they were
there for a totally different purpose.”
“Now let’s talk
humans. Did you know that man is the only
mammal that can’t drink and breathe at the same time? Well, there is an exception, and you see it
about every four hours. Babies can drink
and breathe at the same time. But after
about the age of two a human’s larynx drops down and suddenly we can’t drink
and breathe – one or the other, not both.
Now what kind of an adaptation is that?
It doesn’t make much sense. It
seems kind of counter-evolutionary to make man vulnerable like that.”
“But guess what. Because the larynx is low in the throat, man
can make sounds that other animals are incapable of making. We can make the complex noises that developed
into human speech. Other animals can
make a limited range of noises, but man’s ability to create noise is
limitless.”
“So the larynx dropped in
order to facilitate human speech, right?
Wrong, probably. The larynx
dropped hundreds of thousands of years before speech was developed, probably. Sorry for all of these ‘probablies’, but I’m
on shaky ground here. As far as I know,
paleontologists can only guess why the larynx dropped. But because it did, later humans were able to
use it for the purpose of speech, regardless of its original evolutionary
function.”
“Now you see where I’m
going with this, I bet. The ability to
use telempathy (if that is what we are using) is an exaptation. The almost limitless functionality of the
human brain has developed another function, using a portion of the brain that
was developed for another purpose altogether, maybe combining several sections
of the brain to create this new functionality.”
“How the hell should I
know, Dee Dee? You want a theory, I give
you a theory. I know I don’t want to
make this information general knowledge or the CIA or NSA or the White House
will descend upon us, dissect one of the babies’ brains (or worse, dissect my brain) and put the rest of us in
solitary confinement until they figure out how to use this as a weapon against
their enemies, foreign or domestic.”
“If this information ever
comes out, it will be at a time of our choosing. If this function breeds true, that is if all
of our descendants have this ability, we will wait until it’s a fait accompli. There will be so many of us that we can fight
back. They can’t stop us and they need
us.”
“How’s that for a
theory?”
Donnie and I were looking
at each other in wonderment. Andrew
never ceases to amaze us. How did we
link up with this person? If he isn’t
the ‘next generation’ there is none. As
usual, Andrew’s theory included consequences and responses to
consequences. Our lovely boy always
thinks several steps ahead.
Donnie asked him “How do
you know that it isn’t telepathy? The
children don’t have language yet, so how do you know that when they start to
think in words you won’t be able to hear each other?”
Andrew just shook his
head. “Yeah, I’ve wondered about that
one too. Are these girls going to be
able to read my mind? How do you feel
about a one year old using the word ‘fuck’ in every other sentence? I’m embarrassed to admit that I think the
word a lot more than I say it.”
Donnie and I just started
to laugh. Our babies are going to be
corrupted by our husband! If they have
access to any mind in the world, his is the one we would want them to have
access to. Maybe they will be able to
figure him out.
Emma and Ella, Eddie and Edie: two sets of
twins that could be quadruplets. No one
else can tell them apart, not even their mothers. Me, however, I have no problem with any of them. We’ve got something going, those four little
angels and me. I knew it when they were
in the womb. They could sense me. They read me like a book even then, and I
could feel them responding to me somehow.
It was telempathy.
Now they are two years
old, precocious to a fault; the kind of kids you want to hug one minute and
then ring their pretty little necks the next.
And the little tykes can read my mind.
It’s very disconcerting.
The other day we were
just out for a drive. Donnie stayed home
to do some work. We strapped all four little
ones into their car seats in the back seat of that monster car we were forced
to buy to accommodate them.
We were riding down the
road, and I was minding my own business.
I never said a word, I swear, when some guy passed me in the passing
lane, dove right in front of me and then slowed down.
I like to drive with
cruise control. It relaxes me. Nothing pisses me off more than to be forced
to hit the brake because of someone else’s irresponsible driving. But I kept my mouth shut. I never said a word.
A little further up the
road we came to a light. Mr.
Inconsiderate was making a left hand turn so we pulled up beside him.
That’s when Emma rolled
down her window turned to the other car and yelled “YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!”
Mr. Inconsiderate just
gaped at the blonde haired angel with the dimples who was giving him the
finger. I quickly pulled away as soon as
the light changed.
Ella said, “Mommy, what’s
a fucking idiot?”
Dee Dee was looking
daggers at me by this time. She said,
“That’s anyone driving a car directly in front of your father.”
Of course, that’s when
Eddie had to come out with “Mommy, why don’t you pull up your skirt so Daddy
can look at your pussy?”
Dee Dee’s turned bright
red. I thought she was going hit
me. I swear I never said a word. I was trying to will my little girls to cut
it out, quiet down, get off of it.
Edie asked “Mommy, what
does ixnay, ixnay mean?”
I threw my hand up in the
air in surrender and just gave Dee Dee an apologetic look. Hey, I think what I think. It’s my opinion that if you don’t actually say
it, then it doesn’t count. Of course now
I have four little cherubs who like to repeat every thought that goes through
my fucking head.
Emma decided to compound
the problem. “Mommy, are you horny too?”
Ella, as always, asked
“What’s horny?”
Dee Dee finally couldn’t
resist and broke out laughing.
Whew! I was getting a little
uncomfortable there. I saw her slowly
inch her skirt up and start to spread her legs until I could see A
My favorite little
tattletale, Emma asked “Mommy, what’s a fantastic piece of ass?”
Eddie chimed in “What’s a
pussy, Mommy?”
Edie said “Daddy’s
getting hard again.”
I pulled the car over and
came to a halt. I turned around to these
four little things who continue to drive me nuts and said “Will you get out of
my head!”
I’ve just got to find a
way to keep these kids away from my head or I’ll never be able to get away with
anything. What a horrible thought.
Emma said, “Daddy’s only
fun to be with when you’re not around, Mommy. When you’re around he only ever
thinks about getting laid.”
I said “Emma how old are you?”
She said “I’m two years
old!”
I said “Do you want to
live to be three?”
“Yes.”
“Then shut the hell up!”
Ella said “Oh, Daddy said
a bad word! Shame on
you!”
Help me God. Please help me.
Donnie’s Story
I love spending time with
Andrew and the children. When the children
are around, Andrew doesn’t say much. The
children do his talking for him. It’s
very funny. Andrew seems to be resigned
to it.
When the girls started
talking at eighteen months, they were speaking in complete sentences. I’m not sure how much they understand of what
they say, but they say quite a lot.
We were in the den on a
Sunday afternoon. Andrew was watching
the ball game as usual, with a Big Mac and a bottle of beer. He acknowledges his own shortcomings related
to the Big Mac. He knows he shouldn’t be
eating it. But it’s a tradition. Andrew takes his traditions seriously.
The girls were on the
floor of the den, playing with some
I’m afraid that
Andrew has finally
started to watch the Falcons. His
devotion to the Browns verged on self-destruction.
So we were in the den,
Andrew watching the game, the girls playing, me watching them all.
Emma was trying to put
two pieces together when she yelled “Throw the fucking ball, Michael!”
Another one said “Why
should Michael throw the fucking ball?”
A different one answered.
“If he gets hit he might get hurt. Then
the Falcons would be the same as the fucking Browns.”
Andrew’s mouth never
opened. His eyes never left the TV. He acted like he was oblivious to all of
this.
One asked me, “Momma,
what are you doing at half-time?”
I looked at her. What was I supposed to say? “I’m doing whatever your father wants to do
at half-time, just as always.”
Emma said confidently
“They’re going to get laid.”
Andrew finally spoke
up. “Emma, you’re embarrassing your
mother. I’ve told you about that. Do us a favor, will
you?
Emma said, “We don’t
annoy you Daddy. You think we’re funny!”
Daddy said, “But you will
annoy me if you don’t let Momma Donnie and I alone at half-time, won’t you?”
Emma smiled. “Don’t worry, Daddy. We’ll take care of Momma Dee Dee and you can
take care of Momma Donnie.”
She is a precocious
little brat. I can’t wait till she is a
teenager and starts to date. Then we are
going to embarrass her so much! Until
then I’ll have to grin and bear it.
Half time finally
arrived. It was a close game, so I knew
that we only had a half an hour. Andrew
never likes to miss the second half of a close game.
The girls went out to the
kitchen where Dee Dee was puttering around making dinner. Doris had come out of her cave for a change
and was sitting at the table, occasionally offering criticism of Deirdre’s
methods. When the little ones went
running into the kitchen,
Andrew took my hand and
we kissed. It’s always like the first
time when we kiss. Well, not exactly the first time. It’s always like the first time after Andrew
knew who I was. He puts so much love
into his kisses. We have the little ones
draining our energy, but there always seems to be enough energy left over for love.
The children just don’t
bother Andrew a bit. I mean they aren’t
a strain for him. He lets them play in
his office as he programs. They are with
him almost from the moment he gets up until the moment they go to bed. They want to be around him and he loves their
company.
It makes it easier for
Dee Dee and me to survive. Most mothers
of twins are worn to a frazzle. We have
essentially quadruplets, and still are pretty calm, relatively well
rested. I think it’s a conspiracy
between Andrew and the children so that Andrew can continue to have plenty of
sex. The man is insatiable.
But it is because of us,
Deirdre and me. He finds us
irresistible. I’m starting to believe
him: we are irresistible. At least for him, we are irresistible. We don’t care what other men think.
It took us months to get
our bodies back to where they were before.
Our weight is back down to 108, right where it was before we got
pregnant. We have stretch marks, but
Andrew likes them, he says. Makes us
look lived in, he says.
Isn’t it odd that even
our stretch marks are almost identical? Dee Dee and I are joined at the hip, figuratively.
Andrew and I went into
the bedroom. When we are alone together,
Andrew is like a poet of love. He speaks
so eloquently of his love for me. He
makes me feel like a princess. This
young boy who is our lover cares for us so.
I always feel like I live in a cocoon of love.
We slowly undressed each
other. His chest is beautiful. There is barely any hair on it, and yet it is
so defined and muscular. He’s a very
strong man, but with us and the babies he is so gentle.
I’ve seen him
exasperated, I’ve seen him frustrated.
But I’ve never seen him angry. He
will not lose his temper with any of us.
Deirdre and I are a bit more mercurial. We have yelled at him upon occasion,
usually in regards to his eating habits.
But Andrew never yells.
When our clothes are off,
Andrew picks me up in his strong arms and carries me to the bed. I feel like a child in his arms, protected
and loved. And horny. Do children feel horny? I don’t think so.
He stands by the bed
holding me in his arms. One hand starts
to explore my body, feeling by bottom, working its way behind my knees,
massaging my thighs. His touch leaves
fire wherever it passes.
He places me down on the
bed and crawls beside me. He must have
more than two hands, because they are everywhere. My body strains against his, trying to
increase our areas of contact. His skin
is soft and smooth, wonderful.
His hands are playing
with my breasts, now restored to their lowly ‘A’ cup size. He doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to love our breasts.
I love it when he tweaks
my nipple, then takes it into his mouth.
My body arches to go deeper. It’s
an involuntary reaction. By now most of
my reactions are involuntary. Andrew has
total control of my body and he takes me wherever he wants me to go.
I am wet and wanting,
needy. I can hardly stand it. I need him to put his hard cock into me. It feels so huge, so filling as it slides in
slowly. Somehow he knows how to rub my
clitoris as he rocks himself in and out of me.
We start with a slow and
loving rhythm, but as the pressure mounts our movements quicken. I feel that huge thing slamming into me. Andrew has cupped my chin with one hand as he
draws my lips to his. We are kissing,
his tongue playing with mine.
His control is
unbelievable to me. I have no
control. I am under his control. He drives me wild with his lovemaking. I am building to a peak so quickly! Oh God, how I love him! I’m screaming. My climax is immense. I’m on the verge of passing out.
I feel him ejaculate deep
inside my pussy. It triggers another
climax from me. I can’t take
anymore. I collapse on the bed,
exhausted and satiated. He makes me so
happy.
Andrew kisses my nose, then my eyelids, then my cheeks, and
finally my lips.
He says, “Thank you baby. What
are you doing after the game?”
I groaned. “I’m looking after the children. Go ask Dee Dee what she’s doing.” A woman can only take so much.