Prick Van WinkleChapter 11
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It was a fascinating afternoon. That might seem obvious to many, but it was also fascinating in ways it would e hard for many to understand. Bob was mildly interested in seeing what changes had come to the world while he slept, but the memories of what had happened kept rising, and becoming more clear as he talked to the six women who had been so much a part of his affliction ... if that was the right word. He felt like he knew them better than should be possible. All of them had talked to him, at one time or another, about things they were worried about, or what their hopes were, and even about other people in their lives. In a strange way (if this situation wasn't strange enough!) it was as if he had been awake the whole time, and was just an exceptionally good listener. So, in that sense, he knew these women very well.
Of course that didn't go the other way. The women had gotten nothing from him other than sexual satisfaction for most of their lives, older or younger. Becca, it turned out, had an interest in history, and she asked him question after question about what life had been like in the thirties and forties, during which time he had grown up.
Val, on the other hand, was practically giddy with laughter as first she brought him things to look at, and then took him by the hand and dragged him throughout the house, showing him normal every day things that were taken for granted by everyone alive today ... except Bob. They were almost all brand new to him. Even something so mundane as a Bic lighter was a thing of fascination as he tried to figure out how the girl had gotten flame out of a plastic (!) tube that he couldn't seem to make work to save his life. When she laughingly showed him the safety feature that controlled the gas, he grinned sheepishly.
But being around her - all the women, really - was so satisfying, on so many levels, that Bob didn't mind being made fun of occasionally, and being pretty much unable to do anything for himself, because he couldn't figure out how to make many things operate.
The women were so taken with him, and he with them, that they never left the house the rest of the day.
One of the pinnacles of his update was a truly astonishing session in front of a television that was physically smaller than anything he had ever seen before, but which had a screen larger than many TV cabinets he had seen (but had not been able to afford to buy). Bob explained that, when he had gone to sleep, he had been trying to figure out a way to scrape together the $95 necessary to buy the latest television set on the market ... with its three inch screen.
Finally Martha chased the other women out, telling them her father was exhausted by their nattering. That, in itself, took an hour, as each woman came up with yet another thing to talk about or ask about that just couldn't wait until the next day.
June was the last to go. Bob had received only four goodbye hugs and kisses by that time, but he was already in a state of high arousal from having three young, tight bodies plastered to his, whose lips were anything but tight, and who brought back memories of ecstasy. Now June molded her lush body against his and kissed him long and deep.
"Welcome back Daddy." she whispered, licking his ear and making him shudder.
"It's good to be back." he said, resisting the urge to let his hands drop from her lower back to her firm buttocks. His mind was awhirl with the conundrum of a past in which touching his daughters - or any woman other than Valerie, for that matter - was considered wrong!, and his current desire to repeat with all of them what had happened while he slept. That part of him seeped out as he whispered back. "I liked your ... bathing suit."
She reluctantly pushed away from him as she blushed, and then frowned and turned to Martha.
"What if he goes back to sleep ... like last time?" she asked.
Martha pushed her toward the door. "That's the last thing you need to put on the poor man's mind. He's been through enough without having to worry about resting after a long day. You'll be here for breakfast, along with the rest of them, I imagine. He'll either be awake by then, or not. Now leave him be."
Martha's practical attitude changed radically once the door closed, however, and she was left alone with her father. She had a look of almost panic on her face when she turned to him.
"What if she's right, Daddy? What if you do go back to sleep?"
Bob thought about that for a few seconds. With his memories fully exposed, he'd have precious little to complain about if he did go back into the long sleep. So much had happened in this one day of being conscious again that he felt like he'd lived several years in just this single day. In another way he felt like he might be asleep right now, and dreaming this whole crazy thing.
Still, the look of panic and concern on Martha's face was real.
Bob smiled. "I don't think I'd have waked up if whatever was keeping me asleep wasn't finished with me."
Martha smiled tentatively. "Really? I don't know what I'd do if you went back to sleep ... like that I mean. We have so much to catch up on. There's so much I never got to tell you."
"I remember everything you said to me." he said, hugging his daughter.
Martha's eyes were startled as she tried to remember the myriad things she'd said to her sleeping father over the years. While he could remember them all, she couldn't.
"I'm still nervous." she said, holding both his hands. "I'm afraid to go to sleep myself."
"Then we won't." he said. He wasn't really sleepy, after all. It's pretty hard to wake up from a fifty year long nap and be sleepy right away, after all. He was tired, but it was that good kind of tired where sitting just feels wonderful.
So they sat and talked, and Bob reminded her of some of the things she'd said to him that she'd forgotten about. Some memories brought laughter, and some embarrassment, while others made other emotions surge in them both. It was difficult for Bob to broach the sexual activities that had gone on - they seemed so bizarre and strange to a man whose mindset was still in the late nineteen forties. But both of them knew that some of the things they talked about this night had been said in the heat of passion, while daughter impregnated herself on her father's rampant prick.
"Do you really remember us making love to you?" Martha finally asked, her face darkening a little.
"Oh yes." he said, blushing himself. "I can remember each and every time if I try."
"Did you ... like it?" asked the woman.
Bob's forehead wrinkled as he pondered how to answer that question.
"For me it was just a haze of white. I knew people ... you girls ... were there, but I didn't realize it was you. I mean I recognized Valerie's voice, and yours when they were younger, but it was all just a cloud I was in. I don't remember feeling anything exactly. I remember each orgasm I had, but not how I felt about it." He looked at her. "Isn't that strange? Now that I'm awake I can close my eyes and play back each time it happened, with whatever woman or girl was with me, but I can't remember how I felt about it."
"We tried to hard to wake you up." said Martha, leaning toward him. "Mamma said she was doing that because it would make you happy when you woke up. I think us girls might have misunderstood that at the time. We thought that was what was supposed to wake you up. We thought she meant you'd wake up because you loved us. Later we thought she was trying to shock you into waking up, but by then we were hooked. We couldn't quit. Looking back at it now, of course, Mamma just loved doing it with you. And we did too, later. And then you got me pregnant, and June and Betty couldn't stand it until they got pregnant too."
"I got you pregnant?!" laughed Bob. "I think it was the other way around, little missy."
Martha's eyes glistened as tears filled them.
"You haven't called me little missy for fifty years Daddy!" she bawled.
A hug was called for, and given. That hug somehow turned into a nuzzle, which turned into a kiss, which turned into more kisses which had both of them panting within the space of just a few minutes.
Martha pushed him back, her chest heaving.
"I'm tired after all, Daddy." she said, looking at him through thick long lashes. "I want to go to bed now."
She stood, and had his hand in hers.
"I'm still worried that you might go back to sleep. I think you need to sleep with me tonight ... so I can keep an eye on you..." After what they had just talked about, and what they had just been doing, her meaning was clear.
Bob felt himself being pulled in two directions. He stood while his mind warred in his skull. Her hand was warm in his, and, small as that was, it made the difference. All he could remember was a cloudy haze ... and voices. He wanted to put sight into that equation.
"Okay." he whispered.
Martha made no bones about it. When they got to the bedroom she unashamedly stripped off her clothing as if he weren't even there. He stared at the woman whose voice he knew so well, but whose body didn't match anything in his memory. Her full breasts sagged a bit, but the dark areolas perched on top of each one, with a firm nipple on each one that pointed more up than out. Her stomach had a middle aged pooch to it, a roll that was the perfect size to fit into a hand, and her hips were fleshy too. Still, she looked more in her mid forties than the over fifty years she actually was.
"I loved being able to ... take care of you." she said softly, almost shyly as she waited for him to remove his clothing.
He stood there, all his muscles locked except the one in the pants he was wearing. It was almost as if that one took all his newly-awakened brain's power to manage as it swelled. She drifted, at least to his eyes, toward him and he felt her hand flicker across the front of his pants.
"I looked forward to it every day." she murmured, looking straight into his eyes.
"Every day?" he choked.
"Well, almost every day." she corrected herself. "I just knew that someday you'd wake up because of what I was doing with you."
"Well," he sighed, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, "I guess that sort of happened. When I woke up Betty was on top of me."
Martha's eyes twinkled as she smiled. "I'm not surprised. Betty loved taking care of you as much as I did." Her brow furrowed a little. "Please hurry up Daddy. I need to take care of you again. I can't wait to see your eyes this time. I've dreamed of looking into your eyes while I..."
Now she blushed, and her eyes darted to his ear, but then came back immediately.
"While I feel you spurting inside me Daddy."
That galvanized him, and it seemed like only a few blinks of the eye had taken place - the most time was getting the rope around his waist un-knotted - before he stood naked in front of her, his penis jutting almost obscenely toward her naked mons. Her fingers casually grasped it and squeezed gently as she leaned in for a long kiss. Her tongue probed ... just the tip ... and he opened his lips in surprise. He had never kissed anyone like this except Valerie.
Then, suddenly, they were on the bed and he was above her as her hands pulled at his hips and he was surrounded by heat.
"Ohhhh yessss Daddy." moaned the woman under him.
His release was both unanticipated and shockingly powerful as he suddenly spurted helplessly.
"Ohhhhh baby." he moaned.
"Daddy!" squealed Martha, laughing. "You always lasted much longer than that!"
He took a breath, not knowing what to say, but her finger came up to his lips and sealed them.
"Don't you worry about it. You make me feel special, cumming that quickly. We have all night. We can't go to sleep ... remember? Now, suck my nipples please? I've always wanted you to suck my nipples."
Bob looked down at the nipples under discussion and his head dropped. They were larger, and softer than the nipples he had sucked the last time he'd been awake. To his astonishment, he felt something happening in his groin and felt himself becoming erect again.
Martha cooed and giggled, stroking his back and shoulders, urging him on, calling him her Daddy Bull. This time he wasn't so rock hard, but he was able to probe her deeply for much longer. He found himself in that nebulous place inside his mind that said what he was doing was forbidden ... that Valerie wouldn't be pleased ... and then remembered that she was the one who had taught this woman how to love him physically. He let go of his inhibitions and surrendered to her loving embrace.
She brought him back twice again and they made love well into the wee hours of the morning. They talked at length about all the children he'd created in his daughters, and that none of them were aware of who their biological father was. For some reason he kept quiet about what the great granddaughters had done with him. None of them had actually had intercourse with him, and the secretiveness of his daughters about doing that themselves led him to believe they would not approve of what their granddaughters had done. Discussion about that could come later.
But exhaustion claimed them, as hard as they fought it, and eventually, in a tangle of naked arms and legs, they couldn't stay awake any longer.
Again, Bob slept.
Author's Comment: What do you do when the story you're telling is as confusing as this one can be? We have women who, officially are granddaughters, but biologically are daughters. We have great granddaughters, officially, who are in fact granddaughters biologically. That confusion is compounded when the various relationships between the women are addressed. No author wants to create frustration in the reader, so here's the plan for the rest of the story: From this point on, each woman will be referred to her her official title rather than her biological one. At least most of the time. Think of it as a contract between the author and the readers. I'll try not to confuse you ... and you try to keep up. Sound like a plan?
Bob was awakened by a racket and violent motion in the bed.
What happened was that both he and Martha, exhausted after their extended lovemaking session the night before, had slept late. Or at least it was late by virtue of the fact that there were three more women in Bob's life he hadn't met yet, and they now knew he was awake.
Becca, Fran and Val had all gone home after leaving Martha's and had excitedly babbled about how Great Grandfather Bob had awakened. Their mothers were caught up in the excitement. They had not been even remotely as involved in his care as their daughters, but still were part of the mystery of his long sleep, and they were obviously excited to go and meet him. It was too late that night to do so then, but all three called each other to spread news that everybody already knew. In the process they all agreed to meet at Martha's the next morning. No time was agreed upon, primarily because each of Bob's granddaughters wanted to be the first to get there. June and Betty, though they weren't part of that conversation, had already decided to come back early the next morning, too.
It might have evolved quietly ... peacefully ... sanely ... instead of the landslide that happened. The first trickle of sand that started rocks rolling was when Gidget, driving rapidly down the street, was blocked by her sister Sunny, who backed out into the street from her driveway like she was in labor and heading to the hospital. Becca and Val were in the cars with their mothers, of course, and immediately set up a chant urging their mothers to drive faster and "beat" the other to Martha's house. That madcap race was observed by Polly and Val, who only lived a few blocks from Martha's and were walking. They both broke into a sprint, not wanting to be last to arrive. Betty and June both parked a split second apart, as screeching tires morphed into slamming doors. Polly and Val came hammering up the street, yelling "Wait for us" between gasps for breath.
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