Haunting Sex Story

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

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.

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

TBC in next Chapter……

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

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.

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TBC in the next Chapter….

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.

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TBC

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.

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TBC in next Chapter……

Chapter Nine

Ramona noticed the subdued demeanor of her children at supper. Gone was their carefree exuberance and the laughter that went with it. She started to ask them what was wrong, but decided not to. In some ways her children seemed like strangers lately, but she chalked that up to puberty and the inner turmoil that all teenagers faced sooner or later as they grew to adulthood.

She had been happy that they were so light-hearted, since she thought that would be a buffer to her announcement that she had some papers for Smith to sign and needed to take them to him that night. The result of her statement, made in passing, was not what she’d expected. She’d expected Debbie to make some snide comment about Smith, or object in some way. She’d expected Robby to just sit, silent, as he did so often when Smith was discussed.

Instead, Debbie turned red and shifted in her chair silently. It was Robby who spoke.

“I thought that was your job,” he said, his fork suspended halfway to his mouth. “Why didn’t you take them to him today?” He, too, looked uncomfortable, but not angry.

Ramona hadn’t thought she’d be questioned like that, and her mind scrabbled for a believable answer.

“Well … um … they weren’t ready in time,” she said.

Robby, of course, knew exactly why his mother wanted to go see Smith. And, while the sight of the man rutting into his beautiful mother turned him on, it was also distasteful in some way he couldn’t understand. The image of his mother’s milky white breasts shaking as the man slammed into her was burned into his memory, as was her assent to being impregnated. That just wasn’t the woman who was sitting across the table from him now, and he didn’t want her to go be that woman again.

“So, have him sign them tomorrow,” he said, his voice tinged with surliness.

“I need to process them tomorrow,” said his mother. “And I’m right here, next door. It’ll save time if I take care of them tonight.” She couldn’t understand her children’s resistance to this, and it was a pivotal part of her plan to see her brother more often. She pushed that plan.

“In fact, I plan on seeing him a lot while I’m here at home. It’s so much quicker than driving all the way over here during the day and wading through all those contractors.” It sounded eminently reasonable to her, despite the fact that the bank was only six blocks from the manor.

“Yeah, right,” said Robby heavily.

What was running through his mind was the fact that Smith knew the twins didn’t like him, and that Smith had a piece of information that could ruin things even more than he had ruined things already. It was inevitable, based on what she had been doing with him, that she would see him again. It was also inevitable, in Robby’s mind, that he would tell her what he had seen. At the same time, he hadn’t seemed offended or outraged by what he’d caught them doing, and that seemed odd somehow too. His statement that he meant the siblings no harm also twisted in Robby’s mind, because it didn’t make sense either. Debbie had all but declared war on him, but he acted like nothing was wrong.

Ramona wanted to hear assent from her children … to have their permission to go next door more or less regularly, and because of that, she heard Robby’s comment as grudging acceptance that her plan did, in fact, make sense. She missed completely the ambivalence flashing across her son’s face.

Ramona made herself wash the dishes before she went to see her brother. While she felt no shame or guilt for what they shared, she knew that her feelings were driving her and she didn’t like the feeling of not being in control. There had been a lot of upheaval in her world of late, and “deciding” what to do and when to do it helped her cope with the sensation of being adrift on a sea with no rudder.

But, as soon as her hands were dry, she picked up her briefcase and sang out that she’d be back in a while. Not waiting for an answer she hurried out to the car. She could have walked, but she felt like driving up to the house would look better in case some passerby saw her enter the estate.

As she sat in the car her pussy was already getting wet.

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TBC

Debbie had been keeping tabs on her mother, and as soon as she heard the car door slam she ran to her brother’s room. He was lying on the bed, a book open, but his eyes were staring at the ceiling.

“Come on” she said, her voice hushed for some reason. “She’s going over there.”

“Why should we go?” he asked, his voice dull. “We know what she’s going to do.”

“He might tell her!” she snapped. “We have to know if he tells her! Now come on!”

Debbie grabbed his wrist and pulled as he sat up and rolled off the bed. When they got outside she kept pulling him as he tried to lag.

“Come on Robby!” she snarled. “You want me to go by myself?”

For some reason the idea of Debbie being in the house alone … with Smith there … didn’t sit well with Robby. He increased his pace. Soon they were slipping through the woods behind the house. It wasn’t dark yet, and they had to wait while they surveyed the back of the house. Even more had changed since the last time they’d been there. The house was beginning to look like a house, rather than the wreck it had been ever since they’d put their eyes on it. Eventually they felt safe in going out into the open to reach the cellar steps.

They darted down into the cellar and stopped only long enough to let their eyes adapt a little bit to the darkness. Then it was through the secret door and down the tunnel to the thick door with the ring on it. They eased it open to minimize the squeal of the hinges. Robby made a mental note for possibly the fifth or sixth time to bring oil with him the next time he came.

At the top of the stairs they stopped, unconsciously trying to get their breathing under control before going further. Debbie stepped forward first. She felt the slight tug as her ankle hit something, but the sensation went away almost immediately as the thread that had been stretched across the narrow hallway snapped. There was the sound of a dull thud up ahead of them somewhere, but no other noises, and they crept forward.

They heard voices in the dining room and stopped to see their mother standing, her briefcase hanging from one hand, her arm straight as Smith, without his disguise this time, kissed her firmly. His right hand cupped her left breast through her blouse.

When the kiss was over she sighed.

“I told the kids there were papers to be signed. I told them I’d have to do that a lot.”

“Much has changed, dear Rami” said the man. “Things may not need to be kept secret much longer. I have much to tell you.”

Both teens took in panicked breaths of air at that, but they had no chance to do more.

“Then tell me in the bedroom,” said their mother salaciously, “as we do what I love most in the world.”

She set down the briefcase and pulled her lover toward the stairs, much like Debbie had pulled her own brother out of the house and toward the manor only moments before. There was more talk, but the kids were already moving toward the staircase that would lead them to the bedroom where they had witnessed what was about to happen again to their mother. They pressed their faces against the peep holes as their mother and Smith entered the room. Debbie’s gut tightened as she saw that her mother’s blouse was already unbuttoned, and that she had worn no bra to go “have papers signed.” Another lie. She’d known it, of course, but the sight of her mother’s real intentions made a knot in her stomach.

Smith, though, was not looking at his lover. Instead, his head swiveled around the room, his eyes low.

“Oh look” he said calmly. “A picture has fallen from the wall.”

“Never mind that Bobby, I need you now,” demanded Ramona, shrugging her blouse off and draping it across a chair. “Wouldn’t you rather look at me than some old picture?” she asked coquettishly.

Now Smith’s eyes went to his sister.

“Most assuredly” he said, smiling. He went to her and leaned over to suckle at an exposed and stiff nipple, his hand smoothing across the buttocks of her slacks. He kissed his way up to Ramona’s lips as her fingers went to the buttons of his own shirt and began undoing them.

Robby, his gut tight too, couldn’t, for some reason, watch his mother being ravished again. He hadn’t yet analyzed the emotions associated with watching his beautiful mother be made love to. He hadn’t yet realized that the twisting in his guts was because some part of him wanted to be the man rutting into her soft, white body. He pushed back from the wall as emotions raced through him and suddenly realized his prick was stone hard. His eyes went to his sister and he automatically retreated into something that brought them both pleasure … something that made the world feel right. He stepped behind her, reaching around to cup her breasts and press his erection into her buttocks, which were jutted out as she leaned forward to peer through the peep holes.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I don’t want to watch them,” he said. “I’d rather do this to you.”

His hands slid to her waist and up under her shirt to her own unfettered breasts, feeling for and squeezing her nipples slightly.

“Not here,” she moaned. “Not now.”

She was trying to listen, though, and Smith was saying something. She didn’t have the time to make her brother stop. And the feelings coursing through her loins at what she was witnessing made what he was doing feel wonderful too.

“Shhh,” she said to the wall, even though it was she who was making the most noise. “They’re saying something.”

Robby let his hands play across his sister’s breasts, squeezing them and flicking the nipples, which stood up proudly to be squeezed and flicked. He pulled her shirt up to give his hands room to move without catching in the cloth and bunched it under her arm pits. She ground her buttocks against his hardon and he let his hands slide down her flat stomach to the fastening of her jeans shorts.

“Nooo,” she whined.

“Come on,” he whispered in her ear. “It’ll feel good. What are they saying?”

What Smith was saying was: “Slow down, my sweet. As I said I have much to tell you.”

Ramona wasn’t interested in talk. She wanted her pussy stuffed, and her clitty abused.

“I can’t stay long,” she moaned. “Can’t it wait?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, cupping her breasts, unable himself to keep his hands off her. “I think your children know more than they have admitted.”

That caught Debbie’s full attention and she froze as Robby got her shorts unbuttoned and started to slide his hand into her panties. Her automatic, completely unthinking response was to step to one side with each foot, giving his fingers room to play. But her attention was all on Smith.

“What?” her mood interrupted by mention of her children, Ramona’s passion eased a bit. “What do you mean?”

“I told you someone had been in this house. Now I have reason to believe it’s your children,” he said flatly.

“What?!” asked Ramona, astonished. “That’s impossible!” she said automatically.

Robby, not knowing what was being said, let his middle finger slip between his sister’s slick labia and felt for her joy button while his other hand went back to cup a breast. Debbie, too enraptured by what she was hearing to pass the words along to her brother, held her breath.

“I saw them by the fence this afternoon,” he said.

Debbie felt terror so great that what her brother was doing to her didn’t penetrate her consciousness at all.

“That doesn’t mean they’ve come in this house,” said Ramona. “They’ve played in the woods since they were children.”

“Played …” said Smith. “An interesting word, that.” He looked directly at the bookcase, behind which Debbie and Robby were standing, as if he somehow knew she was there and watching.

Debbie pushed off the wall, against her brother’s unyielding body. His back hit the opposite wall because there was nowhere else for him to go.

“He’s going to tell her,” said Debbie, her voice choked.

“What?” asked Robby, thinking so intently about where his hand were, and how good if felt to feel her butt pressing against him, that he couldn’t concentrate fully on what she’d just said.

Because Debbie had backed up, she didn’t hear what Smith said next. It probably wouldn’t have made any difference anyway, based on what happened next. There wouldn’t have been time to do anything about it.

“Rami, darling, don’t you remember the passages? The secret ways?”

Ramona’s head snapped backward as if she had been slapped. Her last memory of the house was stepping quietly through the secret hallway between the walls, as her parents screamed. They had hidden there as the screams turned to gurgling moans and then stopped. They had waited in the dark until they had heard no noises for a long time. Robert had just barely been able to reach the release that let them through the wall into their parents’ bedroom. There had been bright red spatters everywhere, but they hadn’t understood it was blood. Blood came in small drops, from the prick of a thorn, not in amounts so much that it looked like paint. She remembered her mother’s eyes, open and staring, but her mother wouldn’t say anything. That’s what had frightened Ramona, and when she had started crying.

She shook her head. She hadn’t thought of the secret places in the house for a long long time. She watched as Robert suddenly stepped toward the bookcase and reached for the hidden latch.

Debbie, horrified by what she was sure was about to be told to her mother, leaned forward again just in time to see Smith, facing her, his body only a foot away. There was a loud snap, and then a creak, and the wall in front of her moved away from her face. She fell forward as the support she had been depending on disappeared. Only her brother’s hands, one cupping her naked breast, and the other with its finger buried in her pussy, saved her from falling forward.

She squinted as she was suddenly bathed in light.

“Ahhhh, said Smith in his disguised gravelly voice. “The rabbits have returned.”

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TBC

Ramona looked unbelievingly at what was exposed when the bookcase swung open on creaking hinges. There, to her astonished gaze, was revealed her daughter, whose shirt was up around her neck. Her arms were out in front of her like she had pushed the bookcase open. Ramona’s mind did a little dancing twist. Something wasn’t right here. She was finally able to process the information that, despite the fact that both of Debbie’s hands were in plain sight, there was a hand cupping one of her naked breasts and another hand that was down in the opening of her shorts, which were unbuttoned and unzipped!

Ramona reeled as the body behind her daughter moved and a head appeared over Debbie’s shoulder she recognized as Robby. The concept that her son was standing behind her daughter, and that he was feeling her breast and had his hand stuck down her pants was strange enough. The fact that they were in the secret passageway of the Nettleton Mansion made it all surreal. Then, the fact that she was standing topless in the same house, and that her children could see that, flipped some switch in her brain that suggested a light nap might be in order. Consciousness left her, her vision fading into black as she crumpled to the floor.

At first Debbie couldn’t see anything because the sudden light made her pupils slam closed. She knew, though, that Smith and her mother could see her and she was suddenly aware of exactly where Robby’s hands were. She gave a little shriek and slapped at the hand holding her breast, hitting the breast instead, which hurt. Robby’s hand jerked away, though, and she pulled at his other hand, dragging it out of her pants. Her vision began to sharpen about the time her mother’s collapsing body came into focus.

“Mommy!” she screamed, and lurched forward into the room, brushing past Smith as if he didn’t exist.

Robby stumbled forward too as the pressure pushing his back against the wall vanished and he found himself face to face with Smith. Well, perhaps face to face wasn’t the best term, since Smith’s face was turned toward Robby’s mother, who was lying in an boneless pile on the floor. Both men surged as one toward the fallen woman.

By the time they got there Debbie was already kneeling, hovering over her mother’s body, her fingertips touching Ramona’s face as she cried “Mommy! Mommy! What’s wrong?”

Smith knelt beside her, moving Ramona’s arms around to a more comfortable position, laying her out on her back.

“I think she has only fainted. Seeing you two was more than she could deal with.” he said, his face beside Debbie’s.

“She looks dead!” wailed Debbie.

“No” said Smith forcefully. “See, she breathes.” He placed his hand flat on their mother’s naked chest, between her breasts. Ramona moaned and her head rolled to one side.

Debbie slapped at Smith’s arm forcefully.

“Get your hands off her!” she yelled. “This is all your fault!”

Smith rocked back on his calves. “Everything is my fault, eh little rabbit?”

“And stop calling me that!” yelled Debbie, turning her pale face up with a horrible grimace.

“What then should I call you?” he asked, not at all disturbed by her anger.

“Help my mother!” demanded Debbie.

“Perhaps you should close your pants before she awakens.” suggested Smith. “I think perhaps seeing your brother’s hands on your beautiful body may have been part of why she is like this.”

The shock of his words hit Debbie as if he’d slapped her. She jumped to her feet and fumbled frantically with her shorts, re-fastening what Robby had undone. Then she tugged at her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her breasts. She was about to shout at the man again when her mother’s hazel eyes opened.

“Debbie?” she said, as if she wasn’t sure it really was her daughter. Then her eyes went to the man beside her. “Bobby?”

“I’m here my sweet.” he said soothingly.

Ramona smiled, still not back to the present completely. A face appeared over her brother’s shoulder, peering down at her anxiously.

“Robby?” she said, her voice dreamlike. Then: “Bobby, why are my children here?”

“I think they’ve been spying on us my darling,” said Smith, as if he were only saying that perhaps it would be good to have tomatoes with supper.

“Spying?” came Ramona’s plaintive reply. Her eyes cleared suddenly. The transition was stark and obvious and astonishing.

“Spying?!” she gasped. She lifted her head and saw her own naked breasts. The magnitude of what was happening penetrated and she rolled over, covering her head with her arms. She began sobbing, her naked shoulders shaking as if she were a rat in a terrier’s jaws.

Debbie’s primary concern, up to that point, had been that she and Robby had been caught, and that her mother would suddenly hate her for what they’d done. That self-centeredness was normal for a teenager, for a human at almost any stage of development. And, when her mother began sobbing, she naturally believed that it was from the disappointment she had just been exposed to. Her mother’s emotion dislodged all her own, and she began to sniffle and cry too. Her anguish grew as she realized that all her secrets were about to be made bare, exposed to the mother she loved. She couldn’t bear keeping them any longer though and she collapsed on top of her mother, sobbing herself and begging for forgiveness. She was crying so hard that she couldn’t make her words intelligible, but she confessed to everything she could think of that she had done to disappoint her mother, begging for forgiveness.

The men watched as the firestorm of emotion swept through the women. Robby felt twinges of guilt, but not anything even close to what his sister was going through. Some of that was because, while he had been caught with his hands in his sister’s pants, he had also caught this other man having sex with his mother. Robby, as the man of the family, acknowledged or not, felt quite a bit of ownership over his mother and had no problem whatsoever interceding for her if he perceived she was in some kind of danger or stress.

On the other hand, he recognized that their mother, being caught as she had been, must feel like she had let her children down. He agreed with that, though he couldn’t articulate why, but he loved her, and his forgiveness for that aspect of things was both sincere and immediate.

The only person present who was not in a Gordian knot of emotional turmoil was Robert Ellsworth Nettleton, who among all of them, was the only person who knew that sooner or later, when all this was sorted out, there would be many more smiles and many fewer tears.

Or so he hoped.

He turned to look at Robby, whose attention was on his mother. This was the first chance Robert had had to really examine the boy. He was a strapping lad, that much was plain, with strong features … Nettleton features. There were old photographs put away in this house somewhere that, he thought, would look a lot like this boy. The dress in those pictures would be different, of course, but there would be no doubt that this boy was a Nettleton.

He couldn’t see much of the girl, hunched over her mother as she was. He had looked at her closely when he had been to their home for that one disastrous meal. She bore some resemblance to her mother, enough that one would guess they were related, but she didn’t really look much like Ramona had when she had been that age. Ramona, in those days, had maintained a hunched, banal appearance. She had wanted to blend in, to be overlooked. This girl could not be overlooked. She was fresh and vibrant and beautiful in a way that made a man’s pants feel tight. And what a temper she had. Her flashing eyes could cut deep if she wanted them to.

He turned to the boy. “See to your mother,” he commanded.

Robby jerked at the tone of command, and flashed a dagger-like look at the man.

“She needs to know you still love her,” added Robert.

Robby’s eyes widened. “Of course I still love her,” he said. “But she probably doesn’t love me any more.”

“I suspect you are quite wrong in that assumption,” said Robert. “That we will see soon enough. But now she needs you.”

Robby went and knelt by his mother and sister, placing a hand on Debbie’s back and his mother’s naked shoulder. Her skin felt warm and smooth, like his sister’s.

Robert went to the discarded blouse and picked it up, taking it to stand beside the three members of the Franklin family. He handed it to Robby.

Ramona felt her daughter’s body pressing on her back, and her daughter’s tears falling on her naked skin. Debbie’s litany of, “I’m so sorry, Mommy”, said over and over again penetrated her consciousness. She felt surprise, and welcomed it as it displaced a measure of her own shame. That helped her think a bit more clearly, and it suddenly popped into her mind that her daughter … her children … were here … in the mansion … in the secret passageway she hadn’t thought of since that horrible night when her brother had led her through it to hide from the screams.

Her head twisted to the side and she tried to look through her hair, which was stuck to her face by her tears.

“What are you doing here?” she moaned between sobs.

Debbie wasn’t in much better shape. She was experiencing a wide range of emotions. There was the anger at Smith, the remnants of the hormones the lust her brother’s hand had caused to flood through her as he had stroked her behind the wall, the shame of being caught peeking, the shame of being caught with her brother’s hands on her body, the surprise and shock of being exposed in general, and the fear that her mother wouldn’t love her any more. They all added up to a condition that almost left her paralyzed, and she couldn’t speak clearly. Instead she just clung to her mother.

Robby felt a lot of those emotions too, but they didn’t affect him quite as strongly as they did his sister. What bubbled to the surface of his mind was Smith’s insistence that his mother needed him. He held out her blouse, dangling it over the pair of women on the floor, but didn’t know what to do next.

It was Robert who brought a measure of organization to the chaos that was immobilizing the three Franklins in the room.

“Here!” he said forcefully. “Rami, sit up.” His hand went gently to Debbie’s shoulder and put pressure on it to get her off her mother’s body. She was so upset that she didn’t even think to slap at that hated hand, or demand that he remove it. She rose to her knees, exposing her mother’s naked back.

“Rami!” said Robert, again, forcefully. “Your son has your blouse.”

Ramona brushed her hair away from her face and saw Robby then, the blouse dangling from his hand as he knelt beside her. That blouse would cover her nakedness, and her brain suggested she should get it quickly. She pushed herself off the floor, sitting and exposing her nakedness to her son as she snatched at the garment. He took it back and spread it behind her, as if he were helping her put on a coat and she shrugged into it, pulling it closed across her breasts. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons. She kept her head down, unable to look at either of her children.

“I don’t understand,” she moaned.

“Things are not as they seem,” said Robert. “Things are not as bad as they seem,” he restated.

That was such an odd statement that all three of the others turned their faces to stare at him.

“Come” he said. “All of you. We have much to discuss. Then, perhaps you will understand.”

He moved toward the door, to lead them out of the bedroom. They hesitated, but, unable to make their own decisions about what to do next, they began to follow him. He led them to the dining room, which had enough chairs for them all and pulled one out for Ramona.

“Sit down,” he suggested, and she sank into the chair.

He pulled another one out for Debbie, who balked and stepped away from him.

“Sit!” he commanded.

Debbie looked at Robby, whose face was slack, as if he weren’t all there.

“Sit!” thundered Robert.

Debbie sank quickly into the chair and sighed with relief as Smith stepped away from her.

“You too young man” he said. “Sit, and we’ll talk.”

Finally Debbie’s voice was under her control.

“Talk?!” she yelled. “All this has happened and you just want to talk?”

“You wish to know who I am, correct? You wish to know why your mother and I love each other, yes? You have many questions. I think talking is a good thing at this time,” he said simply.

Debbie was speechless. It was true that she wanted to know all those things. But his clear offer to answer them was so unsuspected, that she was unprepared to actually ask a question.

“And,” he went on smiling. “I think your mother should understand what she just saw, and what I saw earlier today.” It was clear, at least to the children, that he was referring to the unconventional relationship Debbie had with Robby.

Debbie slumped, and the fear that had abated returned full force.

Ramona listened to her brother’s words, and she was reminded of what she had seen … her son’s hands … on her daughter’s body … touching her sexually. What had he said about earlier?

“What?” she asked. Her head felt like there was a hive of bees inside it, and she couldn’t think because of all the buzzing thoughts that caromed around in her brain. “What happened earlier?”

“I told you I saw them by the fence this afternoon.”

Ramona nodded, straining to remember what else he had said.

“They were embracing,” he said, and then paused, almost as if he were teasing. “They were kissing.”

Debbie’s head went down. Robby looked around wildly, as if he were looking for a good place to hide.

The effect this had on Ramona was startling. Her head came up sharply and she brushed her hair from her eyes, which were wide with comprehension, at last.

“Kissing?” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Yes … kissing,” said Robert. “I found it most interesting, my sweet.”

“But that means …” Ramona said.

“That means they are like us,” said Robert gently.

That statement didn’t make any sense to either of the teens, but there was something in Smith’s voice that caused both of them to turn their eyes to him. They said nothing, but just stared.

“I thought about the signs that someone had been in the mansion. The only way they could have gotten in was through the secret ways, so I examined them and found many footprints in the dust. I thought that, if it was your children, they might have used the secret ways to try to spy … and that they might have seen things they do not understand.”

Everyone was still staring at him, captivated by his words.

“And so I set a trap, suspending that picture,” he pointed back toward the room they had left, “by a thread that would be broken if anyone used the secret ways. When I saw that you were here, and that the picture had fallen, I suspected I would find the spies behind the wall.” He grinned. “It appears I was correct.”

Then he quit smiling.

“I think it is time they learned who I am,” said the man called Smith.

Even though he was the one talking, both children’s eyes went immediately to their mother, who was sitting upright, and looking much less unhappy than they expected her to. While she was not smiling, she was at least composed, and her crying had vanished as if it had never been there except for a slight darkness to her eyes and the shine of tears on her cheeks.

Ramona wiped at that dampness, her eyes going from her son’s eyes to her daughter’s. She took a breath.

“Children, I’d like to introduce you to my brother … your uncle … Robert Nettleton.”

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TBC in the next Chapter……

Chapter Ten

Ramona’s pronouncement that not only was Smith … not Smith … but he was their uncle struck both teens so dumb that the only sound anyone heard for most of thirty seconds was that of breath being drawn raggedly into lungs and then expelled.

Debbie managed to make the first noise. “But we don’t have an uncle!” she gasped.

“Am I then a ghost?” asked Robert, smiling. “Perhaps one of the ghosts you say inhabit my house?”

There was, despite the emotion and uncertainty of the moment, a subtle shift in Debbie’s thinking. Her rational brain accepted that this man was Robert Nettleton, whatever that meant. She didn’t believe her mother would simply lie to her about that. While she didn’t understand what that meant yet, her mind did accept that this was a Nettleton, and that he had the right to say it was “his” house.

“You’re her brother?!” choked Robby.

Robert kept smiling and addressed Robby. “I am.”

Ramona, after getting her last sentence out of her mouth, had been unable to go on. She hadn’t been prepared to tell her children about Robert, much less about what she and Robert shared. But, during the silence and interchange between the children and Robert, she had thought frantically about his statement … that Debbie and Robby had been kissing in the woods … and what she had seen them doing as the bookcase was opened. She had thought about what that meant, and it allowed her to go on.

“Children,” she started, her voice that of a mother. “My sweet darlings,” she said, altering her voice to try to express the love and excitement that was welling in her chest. “I couldn’t tell you about Robert. There were … difficulties. I didn’t tell you about so many things. I was worried that it would affect you badly. I have so much to tell you I don’t know where to start.”

“Nettleton!” said Debbie suddenly. “Robert Nettleton!” She looked at the man in awe. “You’re the little boy … your parents … you found them …” Her face filled with grief at what this man’s memories must contain.

Robert’s face didn’t smile now. “Your grandparents. Yes, Rami and I found them. It was a bad time.”

“No!” said Debbie just as suddenly. “Your sister’s name was Elizabeth. We read it in the papers!”

“Papers?” asked Ramona, not understanding.

“Yes!” said Debbie. “At the library. They had old newspapers. They had stories in them about what happened. We read them,” she said, looking wonderingly at her … uncle." She looked at her mother, her face twisted with questions. “The papers said Robert and Elizabeth Nettleton. And your maiden name was Shanks.” She shook her head, denying what she had been told in this room.

Robert held up his hand. “Be at peace child. We can explain all this to you.”

“I’m not a child!” Debbie said, her anger sudden and hot.

“No,” mused her uncle, looking at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. “I suppose you are not, at that.” He smiled again. “You are a beautiful young woman. Please accept my apologies.”

He stared at her a little longer. Then, “Your mother changed her name after the … when we were in foster care. Things were very difficult for us then. People thought we carried some kind of curse. We were in boarding school for some years, and when we came back we didn’t talk much about who she was.”

Ramona joined in, having something now she could talk about.

“He didn’t care. About our name, I mean. I wanted to forget everything. We went first to a place that was horrible, and they wouldn’t let me see Robert. I hated that place. Then, suddenly they took us to live with a nice woman, who cared for us and loved us. She was so nice to us. But then she got sick and had to go away. Our new guardian was a cold man, and there were other children in the house who treated us badly. They called me names.”

She trailed off, her face sad. Then she went on.

Even at the boarding school people looked at me strangely when they heard my real name. So when our guardian suggested that I take his name I agreed. Anything that would cause people not to stare at me I thought was a good thing. I began using my middle name too, Ramona, instead of Elizabeth. All I wanted was to be invisible … to be left alone."

Debbie’s heart was breaking at the story. She realized there were unshed tears in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?” she asked. “Daddy never said anything either.”

“I never told your father who I was,” said their mother. “When we married and he brought me to our new home he had no idea it was next door to the place I hated more than anywhere else in the world. I couldn’t tell him. He was so proud of our new home and we loved each other. Then, when you were so young he was taken from us. I blamed the house … this house. Maybe we are cursed.” She gave in a low cry.

“Nonsense!” said Robert. “Things happen in this big wide world. Some are good and some not. Life is what you make of it. You were happy with Richard, yes? And your wonderful children? Did they not make you gloriously happy?”

“Of course” said Ramona sitting up straighter. “They were my whole life.”

“And all that happiness took place next to this house, did it not?” he pressed.

“Well, yes, but …”

“That is why I came back here,” he said. “I knew that I could find happiness here, near to you. And I knew that if, for some reason you were not happy, I could give you happiness.” It was an egotistical statement to make … the assumption that her happiness depended on him.

Yet, he spoke mere fact. Both of them remembered the only happiness they had experienced as they were growing up in a harsh world, the happiness they felt when they were together. And, while their sexual passion for each other was unbridled, that was not the primary reason for their happiness together. They shared so many things that no one else in the world could understand. Their bond had been forged with a heavy hammer, and they were welded together beyond anyone’s ability to separate. To Ramona, his statement did not come as one of self importance.

Still, she had spent a long time alone, with only her children.

“You took your time coming back to make me so gloriously happy,” she commented dryly.

He actually bowed to her. It was a movement that looked natural to him, as if he had been raised in an environment where bowing was normal.

“I wanted to come sooner, but could not. When you stopped writing I used some of my money to have men check on you.” He smiled at her reaction to having been survielled without her knowledge. “I know, it was a terrible thing to do, but I had to know whether you were well or not. I lived in the most squalid conditions, with people who had only two sticks to rub together to make fire. When the reports came that you were doing well, I knew that those people needed me more than you did. When they were finally able to feed themselves, and had the knowledge to carry on, I came here instead of finding another destitute village. I found that I needed you, as much as I thought you might need me.”

That speech brought back into the light what the children had peeked at those several times … what they had been spying upon when they were caught.

“But …” squeaked Debbie, “You’re brother and sister!”

“As are you two,” said Robert smoothly.

That caused both teens to blush and avert their eyes.

Ramona was thinking what they were thinking.

“How could this happen? Between you two I mean?” she asked.

“How did it happen between us?” asked Robert, looking at her intently.

“That was different. We were alone in the world. You gave me love and tenderness,” she said.

“Is it so different for two children who have lost their father to accident, rather than crime?” asked her brother. “They have still lost their father, and are growing up alone in one sense. The world is just as harsh a place today as it was then. They have fared better, perhaps, but it has still been difficult for them.”

He turned his eyes on the children.

TBC