The Ark

Author's note: These chapters are NOT stand-alones...The story starts here.

What was and what will be...12

She’s right. It’s not the same and I pretty much know that.

Well, I’m not saying yes to Lillian. When is your next period?

Probably in a couple of days.

So come to me a week after your period and stay with me each night for ten nights. We will do that each month for the next two years.

Lorie is laughing. Ira, you hoping Nay is too old in two years?

It was worth a try. I’m hoping that if it is possible, we make sure it happens. That is all.

OK. Thank you. We do it.

I know, fucking a pretty gal ten evenings straight each month isn’t difficult duty, and I’m surely not complaining. The fact that she is still not old enough to get served a beer in the USA is a little odd, but it is what it is. As Lorie has been with me since before she turned eighteen, it’s just part of my screwed up reality.

The fact that I far more prefer to get her pregnant, so that her mother doesn’t get added, well, that’s a detail I would just as soon wish all would forget. Even acknowledging it leaves me thinking I need a drink.

My other seven are not giving me a hard time over this. They are actually cheering us on. I suspect it’ll make for a more harmonious home life if all are members of the mommy club.

But, fuck me… I was a decent guy, living a decent, but dead end life, at the beginning of a retirement in eastern Washington State. There was nothing wrong with it, but I was going nowhere and doing nothing, other than paying the bills and marking time.

Sure, I liked to hunt and fish. But how many hours a year did that consume? How often can a man clean and reclean his firearms?

Never, even in my fantasies, did I ever conceive of eight young gals and one of them with a mother who also wants to be fucked by me. At any given moment, I’m having trouble processing the reality of this life. It has been going on now for two and a half years. Even now, as I’m ready for starting ten days of fucking a twenty-year-old, I’m still lost in a real way. This just should not be happening. This should not be possible

And yet… and yet here she is. Lorie stands before me in bra and panties. She’s not fearful. There’s no reason to be. There’s a smile on her face as she sees me.

Her black hair hangs down over her back. Her toenails and fingernails are painted blood red. There’s no other makeup on the gal. Other than simple studs in her ears, and a gold anklet on her left ankle, with my name engraved on a small gold plate which is attached by a delicate chain, she has no jewelry on.

Lorie is not here to discover love, or to claim her man. She is not going to seduce or be seduced. She doesn’t have to guess what will happen, or what she needs to do to make sure it happens. Tonight is about two adults attempting to create a new life. We will stay at it night after night, hoping, though not really sure, it’ll produce the result we both desire.

At this moment, I’m fully aware that God is a mean bastard. He gives children to those who neither want them nor are equipped to raise them. He gives them to those who choose to abort them. And to those who so much want a child, who have the resources to raise a child and do right by that child, he denies that very thing he freely gives those who don’t, can’t or shouldn’t.

My gals are religious, deep down, faithful creatures, and they are afraid to ask ‘why.’ I’m not and it pretty well pisses me off. I, for sure, do not want to fuck a mother to fix a daughter’s problem. And so, hope against realistic expectation, I’ll do all I can to create a life within my little love.

Clothing removed, I mount the bed and lie next to Lorie. She extends an arm to me as I do the same towards her. Reaching out, bringing close, our bodies join, flesh meeting flesh.

She is warm in a good way, as I hold on to her. A hand strokes my back. I stroke her hair, the side of her head and down her neck, around toward the top of her backbone. Lips touch, but just barely. Her head tilts up a bit and she kisses my eyelids and my forehead. I kiss her neck.

As this non-aggressive foreplay continues, as if totally disconnected to it, Lorie is sliding on top of me and centering her cunt in a manner to envelop my cock. And then it does. I’m inside her. There was no assertive taking of her. It was no more than a glove sliding over the fingers as it envelops a hand.

That is not to say that I don’t feel anything. To the contrary. I feel her heat. I feel her tight cunt as she flexes her muscles. I feel her pelvic bone against mine. I feel lubrication flowing from her and over me.

I feel her rise up and drop down, slowly and repeatedly.

When we started, I was firm but not rock hard. I was firm but not ready to pound her until cum came forth.

Now, as she continues on, I feel a building need to take her more completely. She wants that as much as I now feel the need to do it. It’s not me taking from her. It’s something that involves her desire and mine in equal measure.

I roll us over. She’s not complaining. She’s joyful. This is what she wants. It’s now what I want and need. She’s on her back as I gather her legs in my arms, raise her ass up off the mattress, my cock now able to penetrate more completely, and start pounding her cunt, hard and insistently.

Lorie is crewing the boat, Harder, again, Harder, yes, yes, yes, good, yes, oh yes, Ira, yes. And I’m the one rowing, putting all I have into each stroke. Stroke after stroke.

Her cunt hunches, contracts, squeezes, dribbles juices and hunches again. On and on we go, delirious in our needs, hopes and desires. Until, until there comes a moment.

In that moment, all I can do is bellow, grunt and… cum. Oh God, yes, as all I have, leaves me and enters Lorie.

For tonight, we are done. Tomorrow we will repeat this horizontal dance of love and hope.

I say nothing. Lorie only says, mmm, nice. We sleep.

Each night for the next nine nights, Lorie and I fill each night with equal measures of desire and, each night, we complete the assigned task, not knowing if we are successful. We will engage again next month even should there be no period in the intervening days, just in case that there’s another reason why the period has been missed.

I do have seven other gals and, as the tenth day has elapsed, there’s a veritable line waiting for my attentions. Certainly not all of them are equally as demanding. Eva gave birth only four months ago, and Nelia may be carrying again, but with Cincer, Reyna and Ann especially, the desires are there and the knowledge that Lorie has had me for ten days does seem to have amped up their own desires.

I gather I need to take Cincer tonight, before she blows a gasket. At times like this, a fella needs a Big Mac, fries and a Coke. I need to find ‘center,’ to regain some equilibrium. For me, a meal at MickeyD’s is what I need.

It’s funny. I like the house and really have little need to leave it, but I do need to get out and away every once in a while, even if nowhere else is as nice. MickeyD’s isn’t anywhere anyone would want to live or even hang out in, but I do need to be there every once in a while. On a side note, I really wish, rather than the fries, I could get a double order of their hash browns with the Big Mac. I know it’s just a pipe dream, but just saying…

For no particular reason, my mind has wandered to something totally different, a weird little meaningless thing I ran into yesterday. One of the gals, I think it was Nelia, who said ‘sayang’. Bim looked at her and asked, You want honey?

Nelia looked at her with a wrinkled brow. When it all was worked out it turns out that, in Tagalog, sayang means ‘honey’ and in Cebuano sáyang means ‘alas.’ Based on the totally different meanings, I doubt they are cognates.

I did run into something that might well be a cognate, but has strayed a bit over the many years. It turns out that ‘walang sakit’ means ‘I am not ill’ in Tagalog and ‘I am not hurt’ in Cebuano. That also caused a bit of confusion a couple of days ago.

The bottom line is that the gals are more likely to understand each other when speaking English. I find that humorous.

But getting back to MickeyD’s, even though I needed to get away from the house, did not mean I could go alone. As I have the Isuzu that means Nelia, Eva, Reyna, Bim, along with infants, and Niana, also come along.

Do they really want to be at MickeyD’s? No, they don’t. They would prefer to be at Jollibee’s. I offered to drop them off there, as it isn’t far from the golden arches, but no, they are going where I’m going, but they sure wished I would accept reality and go to Jollibee’s as, ‘It’s better.’

Well, now, when it comes to burgers, ‘No, it isn’t!’

So getting out of the house does not mean getting away. These gals are almost always with me. Most of the time that works out fine. But there are moments when being alone would be better.

And now, it comes as a fucking realization that I traded hunting, fishing, cleaning my firearms, plus relative loneliness, for a pickup load of young pussy, a house full of infants… and no alone time.

To a certain extent, it’s more of a ‘this for that’ and not a complete answer. Yes, sure, I love my new home and I really do love these gals, but much of my time is not filled with stuff. I’ve heard that some guys here get involved with church or medical missions. That leaves me cold for a couple of reasons.

First, I’ve got no stomach for missionaries. Second, who the fuck do these do-gooders think they are? Isn’t that just some colonial self-righteous bull-roar? If there’s a real medical need, let the real doctors, nurses and dentists do it. For the rest of us it’s just self-serving, ego-inflating nonsense.

And yet, I’m just sitting around a bunch. Just like I was sitting around before I came here. I’m the same guy at loose ends, just in a different place with different loose ends.

Looking down the road, I don’t see much changing, other than our adding more children to the household. Eva and Reyna will get college degrees, and that will be good for them. Cincer will eventually go back to working full time as a bookkeeper, unless she keeps on popping out children. But I’ll not be changing.

I’ve changed where I hang my hat but, on a very personal level, I’m the same guy I always was. The main difference is that I’m no longer alone, and I’m loved by some really sweet gals. And I’m even a loving uncle to nine-year-old Niana. So, yes, I’m better off, but there are still issues and gaps.

Miss me?

How could I miss her? She hasn’t been gone. I see Cincer every day. So no, in that way, I most certainly haven’t been missing her. But that really isn’t what the question is about.

Has it been that long?

Yes! It be a month! Yes, OK, Ri need this. And we all know Jessa your second shadow. You with her a lot. Ira, I happy I am in your bed tonight. It too long since last time, my love.

OK, I hear you. I will not fail in this way again. I promise.

Good. Maybe when I old I not want this so much. It will be sad if that happen maybe. I not sure. But that time not now. I need you my love. Truly.

CiCi, when you are old I’ll be dead.

Don’t talk about that! Bad to say that!

They just do seem to get weird when I mention the simple realities of my age as it will affect them.

Now that I’ve been suitably chastised, I think she’s ready to get with the program. Her comment about Jessa is bugging me a bit. Cincer is right. My affection for Jessa may need to be directed in a way that doesn’t cause problems for my other gals. I need to think about it more, but this is not the time to do that.

We are already in bed. The preliminaries are over in that way. But nothing has begun again. For the life of me, I don’t understand why things are so awkward for us right now. We are here together, naked in bed and yet, considering her comments, how do I start in a way that Cincer doesn’t just think this is a pro forma performance? How do I show this gal I truly love that this lovemaking is more about love than a simple, ‘OK let’s fuck, since you clearly want it.’

I decide to start by stroking her hair and kissing the nape of her neck. I nibble on her ear and on her forehead, then down between her eyes to her nose, before coming to rest on her lips and seeking her kiss.

She is responding now with her own kisses and her own hands. My hands work down her flanks, down to her hips. My hands resting there, as my tongue and hers engage in playful exchanges and her fingers weave through the hair on my head. Dueling tongues come to a détente as lips seal against lips and my hand moves from her hip to her mons.

I curl a finger between her labia as she reaches out and takes possession of my cock. She finds clear evidence that I’m aroused as do I, as my inserted digit is awash with her juices.

I press my finger deeper into her as I tap her g-spot. Just as tapping a key on a computer, I repeatedly lift up my finger and tap that fleshy place that does feel different than the rest of her cavity. Tap… tap… tap…

Cincer explodes in seeming ecstasy. Tap… tap… tap…

She is coming undone. Fuck me! As she pulls me on top of her.

No delays are permitted. Insertion must commence immediately, and it does. I’m as deep as I can get and now we are both on automatic. It’s not about thinking of where to place a hand or finger, or where to kiss. We are fucking, and maybe I’m wrong and stupid, but it seems to me that, once really fucking with a partner you love, you lose all but the most basic of human instincts. Nothing is planned. The most basic parts of our brains are engaged and in control.

I find myself just pistoning in and out of her with real passion. My eyes have been closed. I open them to see Cincer looking at me, nodding and crying and smiling. Something deep inside me is triggered and I cum hard.

Mmmm, Ira. This good. Next time soon, OK?

I’m damned close to being out of breath. OK, my love, OK.

It has been three months since Lorie and I started our ten-day-a-month attempts. We try again this third month... I am not giving up, as I really don’t want her mother here.

There’s additional pressure, as Nelia told me today, she is pregnant again. The announcement would be unmitigated good news except, for the effect it has on Lorie.

I’ve taken the announcement to suggest that two kids per gal really ought to be the limit, and no one is pushing back on that. Our home can handle that for now. I’m putting money aside each month in recognition of the eventual need that we will have to add one more pod. That won’t be for some years, and there’s no crisis. This place is working well as a functional home, albeit a weird looking one.

We get all sorts of comments about it, some good, some disparaging, but mostly neutral on that type of scale. It’s just that the place is different and folks find it confusing.

I mean, you really don’t see homes with a carpark above the ground floor and kitchen, dining room and what they call here a sala¹ above that. So yeh, it’s weird. I mean just think about parking and entry into the house.

As to the carpark, we don’t use it during the day. If we have a need I’m sure we will, but the concrete pad below the carpark works like any carpark, sheltering vehicles from rain and sun.

We do use the elevated carpark at night, as I keep nothing on the ground, for the simple reason that we don’t use walls (they call it a fence, but a ten foot concrete structure sure as hell isn’t a fence) around the house. The reason for not having a fence is the same for having a house that allows the water to pass below. A fence would create a hazard when hit by a tsunamis or by storm surges.

I rigged up something that works like an old-style dumb-waiter to lift packages up for when we don’t need to be going up and down ourselves.

We can climb the ‘break-away’ stairs on the side of the ramp and get a bit of exercise. It and the ramp get ‘pulled up’ every night for security purposes. However, I normally use the small elevator, from the pad. It’s ‘open air,’ to the extent that while there are handrails, and thin vertical parts of metal, plus a flat steel grate for the floor, all the electrical, gears and the motor are above.

The only electrical component on the pad or the carpark is a 12V .5mA UP/DN/STOP button arrangement that is connected by a CAT3 wire run through a ½ inch steel conduit to the equipment above. Even if it’s damaged, there’s no risk of injury. The elevator is in the center of the pad under the carpark, and it rises up through the carpark, to the floor above it, allowing entrance into the house proper.

The placement of the elevator in the center of the pad is so that the force of any water might not be as destructive as it might be felt at the edges of the structure. When it’s UP, there’s nothing below other than the buttons, which can be disabled from above, as they are every night.

Each of the other pods are connected via enclosed walkways on each floor of the two floors, the lower of them being at least nine meters (or about thirty feet) above the ground. That puts them even with the common rooms level and the level of the water tank. None of the other pods has a floor at the carpark level.

That is weird all on its own. The roofs are ringed with the wind turbines, yeh, that’s weird. (Those looking at the pods can’t see the solar panels.)

The glass walls all around the pods cause comments every time.

But for all the odd comments and confusion the place causes those who look at it, it works really well for us. There’s room to have your own space and room to be together. There’s room for the children we have now and for some years to come.

The place satisfies my need for security. We really are off-grid in all meaningful ways. I do have a connection to Samelco, though we don’t use it.

Communication is all wireless from the home to the outside world. We are self-contained. Sure, if there’s a nuclear war, this is not a bomb shelter, and there’s no panic room, but that is not what I’m concerned about.

The law here precludes my owning a weapon, but the gals can, and I’m giving that some thought. But when we are all upstairs at night we are reasonably secure and, should I want to, I can lower the louver shutters and the sliding steel outer doors to lock us up tight. As the power comes from above and not below, bad guys can’t clip wires on us. In reality, the entire structure, when sealed off, is a massive panic room.

I could not have afforded to build this place in the USA, but my twenty-four million pesos was just enough. I pretty much spent it all, but I figure it’s about right as that is the cash I got when selling the house in the States. I haven’t sold the three parcels of land yet, though I got word that there’s a party who is interested in buying all three.

Huh, that was a bit of a digression, but we are happy here and the place works well. Should each of the gals really have two children, by the time they become teenagers we might need that extra pod, but not now, not yet.

What is now, is Lorie. She’s waiting for me. It’s our time once again.

Good evening, sweetheart.

She has a smile on her face that will not go away as she says, Good evening to you, my handsome man. Are you ready for the insurance deposit?

Insurance?

Oo. Insurance. In case.

In case of what?

In case the reason I didn’t have my period isn’t because I am pregnant! And now she’s beaming. That smile just can’t get any larger.

You missed your period?

Yes! But it too soon to be sure, my love.

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1 - Living room.

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What was and what will be...13