[[[-IF6-P7.TXT-]]]
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Island Fever 6: Sanctuary
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 07: "Parental"
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-*- Sunday, October 9, 2016 -*-
-*- The Island -*-
"Oh no," I managed to say as I tried to get out of bed for
the first time this morning. "No, no, no... not today!" I
forced myself out of bed and did my best to ignore the
God-awful screaming pain that shot throughout my lower spine
as I moved. Constantly plagued by degenerative arthritis in
my lower back, some mornings were worse than others when
trying to cope with the pain. Today, it was really bad.
My mind in a sleepy daze, I recalled the events of the
prior day as I hopped in and out of the shower, tossed on
some clothing, popped two aspirin that would probably do no
good, and ventured downstairs. Yesterday, I went on that hike
to the lagoon alongside Amy, with Dani Grace strapped to my
back in a harness. Our little daughter may not weigh all
that much, but lugging Dani Grace around for two hours really
put a strain on my back. At the time I was already hurting,
but was too stubborn - and too stupid - to ask Amy to carry
Dani Grace herself. As a result, I was paying for it now.
In the overnight hours, my back must have locked up. Even
more ridiculous was the fact that when I entered the kitchen
and saw my first wife of the day, Scarlett, I did my best to
block the discomfort altogether in my back, and act as if
nothing was wrong. I did not want anyone fretting over me.
"Morning, baby," Scarlett greeted with me with a smile, an
apron tied around her as she prepared blueberry pancakes at
the stove. "Glad you decided to grace us with your presence."
"It's the other way around, actually," I said, stepping
forward and planting a kiss upon her forehead. "You grace me
with your presence, Miss Scarlett." I looked elsewhere and
found Dylan, our six month old son, resting in a portable baby
crib off to the side. His eyes were fixated on me, and he
seemed to be in quite the good and lively mood. I went over
to check on and converse with him for a bit.
"Where is the birthday girl?"
Scarlett turned and smiled at me. "Kristanna? I think
she is playing with Kaden and Ariel right now." Indeed, today
was Kristanna's birthday. On this very date - October 9 - 27
years ago, Kristanna was born in Sandvika, Norway. I had a
major surprise as a gift lined up for her later today.
Pamela entered the kitchen while holding hands with our
22-month-old daughter, Piper, and sent me a questioning glance
as she passed by. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head
at her in response, as I already knew what it was about.
No, it did not pertain to the vivid dream (nightmare?) that
I had last evening centering on Alison and her mother, Leslie,
with Lindsay eventually joining in and making it an incestuous
four-some. I kept very few secrets from any of my wives; that
was the number one rule our family was built on. We prided
ourselves on being completely open and honest with one another.
Thus, I fessed up to Amy in the overnight hours and told her
all about the dream, and why it had me so riled up.
Amy was not particularly happy that I would have such
lewd thoughts running through my mind, but was not one to
pass judgment, either. Amy was not going to tell any of the
others about it quite yet, she had informed me, but fully
expected me to sit down with Lindsay and discuss it with her
sometime very, very soon. Alison, too.
How was I supposed to tell my wife that I had a sexual
dream - a fantasy within my subconscious mind - involving her
mother? Even worse, with Lindsay a part of it too? It would
be difficult, I am certain, but again it went back to the
foundation that our family was built on. Honesty. With seven
wives (and soon to be eight with Alison), it did not pay for
me to keep even the tiniest of secrets. Any of us, really.
Too many of them, we figured, and things could crumble.
Again, my issue with Pamela - if you wanted to call it
that - had nothing to do with my dream from overnight. She
was quite unhappy with what I had planned for today.
"Daddy!" Piper exclaimed, breaking away from Pamela and
racing over to me. I winced against the bolt of pain that
pierced my spine as Piper hopped into my arms and gave me a
furious hug. Fortunately, neither Pamela or Scarlett seemed
to catch on to my predicament. "Love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, honey," I told her. "Good morning. How
are you today? Wow, your hair looks so pretty."
A very small television was atop the kitchen counter, and
Scarlett was stealing glances of it as she prepared breakfast.
There was a news program detailing the upcoming American
presidential race of 2016 playing over the air.
"I don’t understand why Trump gets to poke fun at how women
look when he walks around looking like a windswept kumquat
himself," Scarlett told us. "I'm so glad he is not a potential
leader of my country. That would be awful."
I raised an eyebrow at her. "A windswept... kumquat?"
Pamela made her way over to Scarlett and stared at her,
nonplussed. "You made pancakes? REALLY? You know I much
prefer waffles."
Scarlett glared back at her in confusion. "Can you keep
your voice down please? There's children in the room. And
what is the matter with pancakes?"
"Perfect." Pamela pointed at the pancakes in disgust.
"That's just... perfect." She dropped a dishtowel onto the
counter next to Scarlett and walked away without another word.
Scarlett focused on me, searching for answers. "Was that
a pregnancy mood swing that I should otherwise forget about?"
Pamela was six months pregnant and the hormones that were
working so hard to nurture and develop our unborn son within
her had taken control of her body, and even her mind. At
various times she could be weepy, over-the-top excited,
disproportionately angry, deliriously happy or stressed out.
A pregnant woman's outbursts were oftentimes out of her
control. It was the hormones talking - and yelling. And
screaming. And crying. I had learned this over the years as
six of my seven wives had went through pregnancies and given
birth. I never took it personal when I was attacked for no
apparent reason by a pregnant wife (so when I say blue and
she says pink, I wisely go with pink).
Or, in this case, when Scarlett was cooking pancakes and
Pamela wanted waffles. Oh, she had a craving for waffles.
"She's not mad at you," I assured Scarlett, and I knew
this as fact. "Pamela is mad at me. And it has nothing to
with a hormonal mood swing." Scarlett frowned and sighed as
Piper climbed out of my arms and looked up at me, quite
unhappy. I grabbed my back and growled in discomfort.
"What wrong, Daddy?" Piper babbled. "Mama... mad?"
"Mommy isn't mad at you, honey," I told her. "Why don't
you go find Mommy and give her a hug? Tell her you love her.
I bet that will make her feel MUCH BETTER."
"Okay, Daddy." Piper gave me a kiss and then went scurrying
off, in hot pursuit on her mother's trail. "Mama! MAMA!"
Pamela stared a hole in me last evening after dinner when I
informed her of my plans for Kristanna's birthday. Her eyes
carried conviction, anger even. "What you're planning to do
with Krissy, Jeremy, is NOT okay. I just want you to know
this." Such a reaction from Pamela was one that I certainly
did not expect. I thought she would be happy with my idea.
"Hey, Jeremy. You okay? You need some water?"
"I'll be fine," I said to Scarlett, accepting the water
bottle she gave me and downing a few gulps. But I finally
fessed up, as usual. "My back is a little sore today."
"You overextended yourself again yesterday." Scarlett ran
her fingers throughout her hair. "Do you need any aspirin or
anything? Maybe want to lay down and relax for awhile?"
"No, I'm good. But thank you."
"What about breakfast? You must be hungry."
"No, I'm good," I repeated. "Fine."
"No, you're obviously NOT fine." Scarlett undid her apron
and tossed it into the sink in frustration, then pulled her
hair from the knot at the back of her neck and gave her head
an angry shake. She could easily tell that I was hurting
more than usual. "Keep it up, Jeremy, and one of these days
you are going to seriously injure your back and wind up in
the hospital. Might even need surgery."
"Whoa, Scarlett. Wait. What's wrong? I know what I can
and cannot do with my back."
Her defenses flaring, Scarlett exhaled an angry breath and
sighed. "Your voice, Jeremy, is doing that calm, polite,
nothing-is-wrong thing, and I don't want to hear that from
you right now. In fact, I can't stand it."
"What do you want then?" It was a legitimate question on
my part, and one that had me feeling a bit contentious.
"I WANT you to take care of yourself," she responded.
"Don't you understand? I'm a registered nurse back home in
Norway, you know, and I like to think I know what I am talking
about. Or maybe you think I don't know what I am talking
about." She attempted to pass me en route to our son, Dylan,
but I sidestepped, blocking her path.
"Stop for a second, please?" I cupped Scarlett's face and,
at the contact, she immediately softened. "Of course I know
what you are talking about, sweetheart, and that you're
looking out for me. I've had a bad back for years. There is
no cure for it. I have learned to manage the pain."
Scarlett's eyes flared at me. "You won't be able to manage
your pain if you pop a disc and need spinal fusion surgery."
"That's not going to happen."
Scarlett sighed again, upset, and shook her head at me.
She stepped away and whipped out her cellular telephone, and
began typing away on it. "Just leave, Jeremy."
"Huh?" I gestured at her telephone. "What are you doing?"
"I'm texting Amy and Devon about the hike the three of us
have planned after lunch." Scarlett glanced at me briefly,
but went right back to her phone. "Please leave, Jeremy,"
she repeated, softly. "I don't want to talk to you right
now if you're going to be stubborn about your health."
"Hey, I'm sorry," I said, offering her my hand. But
Scarlett was texting and did not see the gesture, prompting
me to eventually abandon the attempt, feeling more than a
bit belittled in the process.
"I asked you to leave, remember?"
Now, I was angry at Scarlett myself.
"You did?" I sniped back.
"I did."
But I decided to take the high road, especially with our
six month old son also present in the room, and not cause a
scene. I otherwise kept quiet, but gritted my teeth and
seethed the whole time as I turned and exited the kitchen. I
understood the concerns Scarlett had for my back and its well
being, but I felt totally disrespected by her because she
paid her telephone far more attention than she did me.
Perhaps it was Scarlett's way of getting back at me?
Perhaps she felt disrespected too, because I did not share
the same level of concern for my back that she did?
* * *
"Excuse me, sir, but can I get a hamburger?"
When strolling by the sun room, I happened upon Kristanna
and our two year old son, Kaden, as well as our seven month
old daughter, Ariel. Kristanna was sitting on her knees next
to the staircase, where there was a hole cut out in the wall
that resembled a window frame. Kaden was on the other side
of the so-called window, underneath the stairwell itself,
and Ariel was enjoying _tummy time_ beside Kristanna on the
floor. I stopped and stole a peek of what was going on.
"A hamburger, sir?" Kristanna reiterated.
"Okay," Kaden muttered.
"And please, no pickles."
"No picks?"
"No pickles," Kristanna insisted. Kaden reached down and
then handed his mother a plastic toy hamburger. "Oh, there
it is!" she swooned. "Looks so yummy! How much is it? Two
kroner? Does it cost two kroner?" Kroner was the term for
Norwegian currency, which was the only type that Kaden knew
of. His vocabulary did not include the term _dollar_ yet.
"Oh, you're going to break me up!" Kristanna chirped,
forking over the cash. She made hungry biting motions toward
the toy hamburger. "Hmmmmm, so good!"
"Chick... en," Kaden drawled out.
"Chicken?" Kristanna chirped. "Well, how much is the
chicken? I only have one kroner left." She shook a finger
at Kaden. "Do you have any... salad? I'd love some salad."
Kristanna glanced down at Ariel, who seemed quite happy and
cheerful sprawled out upon her stomach across the floor.
"What about you, 'lil missy? Can you fix me up a salad?"
"Salad, Mommy," Kaden said, handing her - of all things -
a toy hot dog on a bun.
Kristanna laughed. "This doesn't look like a SALAD!" She
made biting motions toward it regardless. "But it's yummy!
Thank you, sir! You are such a great cook! Hot dog salad!"
One of Kaden's favorite games to play since our return to
the island was, as Kristanna dubbed it, fast-food-drive-thru.
Kaden was enamored with the hole cut out in the side of the
staircase, which actually did look like a drive thru window
at a fast-food restaurant. Kristanna played this game with
him daily and would order food and give him money in exchange.
Kaden could play the game repeatedly and never grow tired.
"Excuse me, guys, but I'm the health inspector and I'm
here for a mandatory check of the back of the kitchen," I
announced, grinning, barging into the sun room and going
right over to the door that led to the area behind the
staircase. When I walked inside, I let out an exaggerated
gasp. "Oh my God! How can you prepare safe and quality
food in such a big mess like this?" There were toys and
coloring books, crayons, strewn all over the stairwell space.
It looked like a typical hideaway for a two year old.
"Daddy!" Kaden roared at me, momentarily upset.
"You're not up to code, bucko," I said to him, as Kristanna
looked on and smiled. "We're gonna have to shut shop down.
It's gonna have to be closed forever. Or at least until you
get it cleaned up and looking like a safe place to eat."
"Get it cleaned up, Kaden, and Daddy will come back and
buy a hamburger from you," Kristanna encouraged him, before
huffing, "I bet he will even buy two!"
"Okay," Kaden relented, raising his hand and then giving
his mother a high-five. As he set to work on gathering up
some of his toys, I went back out to the sun room and knelt
down beside Kristanna. My back was still hurting, of course,
but I did not want Kristanna to know it.
"Hey, you," I greeted her with a kiss. "Happy birthday.
And good morning. Did you have a good night with Lindsay?"
"Oh yes," Kristanna nodded. "Lots of good sleep last
night. We were going to stay up late, but Lindsay was so
tired from the pool party we had, she zonked out in bed.
It's okay... I was able to cuddle with her all night."
I chuckled. "That sounds nice."
"Oh, it was. Trust me."
I focused on Kaden. "Hey, buddy. Do you know what today
is? What is today?" He looked at me quizzically. "Today is
Mommy's... birthday! Can you say happy birthday to Mommy?"
"Happy burby," he offered.
"Do you remember singing happy birthday to Aunt Alison
last month? Remember when she turned 20? You're going to
sing it again today for Mommy, aren't you? We're gonna have
a big party later on because Mommy is getting OLDER!"
Kristanna balled up a fist and playfully socked my
shoulder. "Hey, mister. You're the oldest one of us all.
Don't go talking about other people and their ages."
"Do you know how old Mommy is today, Kaden?" I wondered.
"Did you know that she is... 47?"
Kristanna huffed. "I am not! I'm 27!" She punched my
shoulder again, this time with a bit more authority. Kaden
could not contain his laughter at our display. "JEREMY!"
"Seriously, happy birthday," I offered, kissing my wife
again, while picking up Ariel and cradling her in my arms.
"Hey, little chick. How are you doing today? My, you look
so wide-eyed and chipper this morning. And so pretty." I
kissed Ariel on the forehead and, after a few moments, handed
her to Kristanna. As much as I would have loved to stay here
and play more games with them, I had to go off and resume my
routine, normal morning rounds of checking in with all of the
women and children throughout the house.
Coming across Kristanna and Kaden, as well as Ariel, had
taken some of the sting away from the little episode I had
with Scarlett earlier when she asked me several times to
leave her alone. Kristanna's smiling face and energetic
nature was usually more than enough to cure whatever ailed
me. Still, I was somewhat perturbed that Scarlett would
speak to me in such a way - with such blatant disrespect -
but I would get over it, and I am sure she would too.
Perhaps she and I could have a little _make-up sex_ later?
"Baby, you tell me a lot," Lindsay said to Trish as I
came across them in my private office moments later. "It's
hard to remember everything. What I do know is that you're
amazing as a wife and mother, and that is the most important
part." Lindsay noticed that I had stepped into the doorway
as well. "Oh, hey there. O-M-G. You should go out with
us tonight, Jeremy - me and Amy - we are going to start a
bonfire on the beach after dark and roast marshmallows."
First of all, spending part of the evening with Lindsay
and Amy? How could I deny that? But I had to, because today
was Kristanna's birthday and I actually had major plans for
it (and thus why, Pamela was also angry at me as a result).
Second of all, there should be some cosmic rule that anyone
over the age of fifteen who said O-M-G would be swallowed up
by the universe. Okay, that was more than a bit exaggerated
on my end, but you get the point. Lindsay may be 21 now and
a mother, but there were times - fleeting moments - when it
seemed that she was actually much younger. All good, I guess.
"He can't go with you and Amy to the beach tonight, baby,"
Trish frowned, with our seven month old son, Jackson, hitched
in her arm. "Remember he has his surprise for Kristanna?"
"Oh, that's right," Lindsay murmured, bouncing Kaylee - my
seven month old daughter - on her knee. I had children
everywhere, it seemed, and at times it was overwhelming. But
again, I was not complaining. My life was perfect.
"I'll be happy to go with you and Amy tonight, though,"
Trish purred as she thumbed the zipper on Lindsay's hoodie.
"Maybe after the kids are down for the night?" Lindsay
suggested. "Devon said she would watch them for..."
"You're really beautiful when you care for and play with
Kaylee," Trish interjected, clearly in another world now.
"She is such a lucky little girl to have you as her mommy."
Trish turned and focused on me, beaming with energy. "You
hear that, Jeremy? I get to go to the beach tonight with
Lindsay and Amy. Two hot girls for me to hang out with."
"What could be better than that?"
"Three hot girls," Trish told me.
I chuckled. "Then ask Alison."
"Now THAT sounds like a plan!"
"You look great," I said to Trish, taking Jackson from her
arms and holding him for a bit. I cradled and hugged him to
me, then glanced down at Kaylee. "You're next." Then, a
thought hit me. "Trish? You didn't yank me out of bed at
five o'clock this morning for exercise?"
"I was going to, but Amy suggested I give you a pass for
the day," Trish responded. "Amy said you had some sort of
nasty dream in the middle of the night and it wrecked you.
She figured you could use the extra rest."
"You have a scary dream?" Lindsay teased me, pouting for
emphasis. "A monster chase you?" No, honey. I had a dream
that I was having sex with your sister and mother, and you,
all together, at the same time. Nothing major, right?
How was I supposed to fess up and tell her that?
Amy wanted me to tell both Lindsay and Alison of the vision
I had. What possible way was there for a husband to explain
to his wife that he had a wet dream about her mother?
"Oh, stop pestering him, Lindsay," Trish chided her. "You
have had your share of scary dreams recently, too." She stood
up from the desk. "Either of you want something to drink?
Water? Orange juice, maybe a _diet Mountain Dew_?"
"I'm fine," were my words.
"I'll take a 'dew," Lindsay nodded. She then whistled as
Trish offered a playful sashay toward the glass cooler in the
corner. Trish grabbed a power drink for herself and a can of
_diet Mountain Dew_ for Lindsay, and returned to us.
I watched Lindsay pop the top on the can and take a swig
of the cola. She had her hair pulled back on the sides this
morning, which offered an extra glimpse of her neck. Hmmmmm,
neck-looking was one of my favorite activities.
"Hey, handsome," Trish said to Jackson, who I was still
holding. "You like being in Daddy's arms? Don't you? You
like snuggling and cuddling up with Daddy, huh? Yeah, so do
I. So do I." Now, I could not look away from the smile that
was upon Trish's face. She really did have the most amazing
smile, and when she leveled it on you, all bets were off.
"So when did you get the idea of surprising Krissy on her
birthday with a sudden trip to Las Vegas?" Lindsay asked me.
"I just thought of it last night," I answered. And thus,
the reason Pamela was so very upset with me at the moment.
She did not want Kristanna and I to leave again after I just
arrived back on the island following nine whole days in
Pennsylvania with Devon during her family emergency.
"Captain Mike and his two wives, and his co-pilot, are
actually still in Peru," I added. "I talked to him last
night before dinner and he said they would be happy to fly
us on the family jetliner to Las Vegas."
"Krissy has always wanted to go to Las Vegas, but has
never been there?" Lindsay countered. "That's a cool gift
idea, Jeremy. How long are you gonna be gone again?"
"Probably about 48 hours," I replied. "We were going to
fly out tonight and land sometime very early in the morning,
stay at a hotel tomorrow night and then fly home Tuesday
afternoon, and be back on the island that night."
"You staying at a nice hotel, I hope?"
I chuckled. Was there any doubt? "Just the Octavius Tower
Villa at _Caesar's Palace_. Only $40,000 for one night."
"It will be good for Krissy," Lindsay nodded. "She has
had a very rough year with all the problems Ariel had when
she was born back in March. Krissy deserves some time off,
especially if Las Vegas is someplace she has always wanted to
visit. Devon is going to look after Kaden and Ariel, right?"
"That's the plan." Hmmmmm, Pamela was furious at me, and
that was why she snapped at Scarlett earlier over the whole
pancakes or waffles ordeal. Her nerves were on edge. Pamela
thought I had no business running off with Kristanna in the
middle of our family vacation after that long stay Devon and
I had in Pennsylvania. Even though it was Kristanna's
birthday and it was something she would enjoy very much - a
trip to Las Vegas - Pamela begged me last night not to go.
Postpone the trip for another day, another time. Not now.
Kristanna did not know of my plans yet. It was a surprise.
"You okay, Trish? You look sad all of a sudden."
"Oh, I'm good," she told Lindsay, perking up. "So about
tonight on the beach? Hot chocolate with marshmallows?
Cocoa will be really nice, because the beach will be chilly."
Lindsay reached out and playfully bopped her on the head.
"That's what the bonfire is for, silly!" Lindsay then stood
and handed Kaylee over to me, and now I had two gurgling and
cooing infants in either arm. Lindsay used her new-found
freedom to literally hop into Trish's lap. Her hands were on
Trish's waist and her thumbs subtly moved up and down over her
rib cage. So torturous and unfair that I could not be included!
Trish was already losing whatever resolve she had left.
When Lindsay placed a kiss upon Trish's neck, she literally
melted. Holy hell, that was smoking hot.
"I'm not going to be able to resist you," Trish told her.
"And this is a problem?"
"Sort of," Trish said, refocusing on me as I held the two
babies. Trish was on fire and caught between reason and her
libido, both of which seemed to be at all-out war. She
splayed a series of kisses across Lindsay's delicate, exposed
neck. "Jackson... and Kaylee, baby."
"Oh," Lindsay murmured, her eyes shifting toward me as
well. "Jeremy? Sweetie? Can you take the two little ones
away for awhile, so Trish and I can have some private time?"
I stifled a laugh. If I were to leave, Trish would have
Lindsay totally naked in 20 seconds or less. There was no
doubt about that within my mind. I closed my eyes at the
rush of desire that crashed into me with that mere thought
alone. And while I would love to stay and be a part of what
was about to happen, there was only one thing that I could do.
It was the right thing - give them their space, their privacy.
"Yes," I answered. There was silence afterward, where the
two ladies did nothing but stare at each other as Lindsay sat
astride Trish's lap. More specifically, it seemed, they were
staring at each others' mouth. I quickly got the idea that
they were waiting for me to leave with the children.
So I did, and the second I stepped out, I heard a heavy
gasp from Lindsay. The type of gasp she emitted whenever
someone bombarded her with a blistering kiss. I walked away
regardless, aching and wanting so much more myself.
I spent the next 45 minutes playing with Jackson and Ariel
in the recreation room, until Trish and Lindsay came downstairs
and re-claimed them. Lindsay had that far out, dreamy look,
the fresh-faced, I-was-just-royally-fucked-look, that caused my
cock to harden and stiffen within my trousers. Trish seemed
to be floating on cloud nine herself. They thanked me for giving
them time to be alone and suggested I check in with the others.
Just randomly going through the house, I again stumbled upon
two different ladies. This time it was Pamela and Scarlett in
the reception room and, at the mention of my name, I decided to
stay tucked around the corner in the hallway and out of sight.
These two ladies were upset at me, but for different reasons.
I wanted to hear what they were saying about me.
"Jeremy is totally preoccupied with his back," Scarlett
mused. "When he thinks no one is watching, or noticing, he
allows himself to limp and winces in pain a lot."
"I do not..." I mouthed silently.
"Jeremy can be stubborn at times," Pamela conceded. "I
love him to death and all, but it can be frustrating as hell
dealing with him when he sets his mind to something. This
trip to Vegas, his refusal to take it easy on his back."
She inhaled a deep breath. "You're a nurse, Scar-Scar. Just
how sore and tender do you think his back really is?"
"Extremely sore and tender. I'm just fearful that he is
going to go zip-lining one day with Trish, or take a long hike
with a constantly squirming Dani Grace in his back harness,
or diving with Krissy and Devon, and really hurt himself."
"What about the exercises he does with Trish?"
"I'm not worried about them," Scarlett advised Pamela.
"Trish is there and oversees everything. She knows his back
is in terrible shape. She won't let anything bad happen to
him. All of the exercises he does, she controls."
"Jeremy thinks the damage is already done to his back, and
there is no way he can further injure it."
"That's where he is wrong," Scarlett insisted. "I followed
Jeremy around a bit with the voyeur room after that little
argument I had with him. I watched him go off and play with
Kristanna, Kaden and Ariel for a bit, then he took Jackson and
Kaylee off of Trish and Lindsay's hands so they could have sex
together. I lost count of all the times Jeremy winced when an
adult was not around, the extended breaks, the times he grabbed
his back. These things Jeremy may write off as common rituals
for him, but it is anything but. His back is really injured.
I'm going to push for him to see a surgeon when we get back
home to Norway, because I think it's more than arthritis."
"A surgeon?" I again mouthed silently, my eyes narrow. A
surgeon as in... surgery? Back surgery? Laying helpless in
bed for possibly several weeks, unable to move, surgery?
No way.
I heard footsteps approaching, presumably from the opposite
side of the reception room. I kept still in the hallway, not
wanting anyone to know of my presence just yet.
"Hey, Devon," Scarlett greeted.
"So you're for this trip to Vegas that Jeremy has planned?"
There was a slight hesitation before Devon responded to
Pamela, "Yeah? Why wouldn't I be? It's Krissy's birthday.
She has said for years that she wants to go to Las Vegas. I
don't know of a better birthday present she could possibly get."
"And you're fine with Jeremy and Krissy leaving their
two children and wives, and Jeremy leaving his other five
children as well, for another 48 hours? You and Jeremy just
got back from a nine day trip to Pennsylvania last week... a
few days ago. Jeremy and Krissy PROMISED me just three nights
ago that they would never leave me unnecessarily again.
Then, last night, Jeremy gets the sudden idea in his head that
he wants to run off to Las Vegas with Krissy for two days."
Pamela was sounding really antsy now. "I mean, what the fuck?"
"You're mad that Jeremy went to Pennsylvania with me?"
Devon, all of a sudden, was on the defensive. "My mother had
a heart attack and she nearly died from it!"
"I'm not mad about that at all!" Pamela screeched. "That
trip was totally justified and called for. I told you, Devon,
for you and Jeremy to stay in Pennsylvania as long as you
wanted. What I am mad about is that less than a week after
being away from his other wives and children for so long,
Jeremy wants to hop on a plane and go away for two days!
AGAIN! Can't you see all the things WRONG with that?"
"Isn't this kind of special, though?" Devon countered.
"It's Krissy's birthday. I mean, what better time for him
to take her to the one place where she has always wanted to
go - Las Vegas - than now? It would be double the trip if
they flew from Norway instead of Peru. I think it is one of
the best birthday present ideas Jeremy has come up with."
"Well, I don't!" Pamela snapped back.
"Jeremy took you to Baltimore earlier this year and spent
several days there with you when your grandmother passed
away," Devon reminded her. "Don't you remember that?"
"That was for a funeral, Devon! That trip was necessary!"
"And this trip isn't? Something Krissy really wants to do,
and you find it unnecessary?"
"Yes, I do," Pamela responded, holding steadfast. "Not
less than a week after being gone for nine days. This is
supposed to be a family vacation, Devon. Not a vacation
where Jeremy throws us onto the island and then decides to
go on random, spur-of-the-moment getaways."
"It's Krissy's birthday!" Devon reiterated.
"I think what Pamela is trying to say," Scarlett offered,
"is that Jeremy is a husband and father, and has an obligation
to the rest of us. While you were away with Jeremy, Devon,
and eventually Kristanna as well, some of us - the wives, the
children - really did not adjust well to being without the
three of you for such an extended period of time."
"Did Amy tell you that Dani Grace cried for TWO HOURS
EVERY NIGHT before bed-time while you all were away, because
she is so used to Amy AND Jeremy tucking her into bed? She
kept crying because her Daddy wasn't there with her!" Really?
I hung my head low and sighed inwardly at that news. No one
had told me of that. "Or that Piper was convinced that
Jeremy had somehow ran away, and was never coming back?"
"How about that Amy nearly lost her mind one night, and
went into a crying rage because she missed Jeremy so much?"
Scarlett added. "You know, Devon, Jeremy is Amy's ultimate
therapy. He is what keeps her together. We seriously
thought she was going to have a mental breakdown one night."
"I didn't know that..." Devon gently murmured.
"It also didn't help Amy's cause that Dani Grace was so
horribly upset and distraught too," Scarlett said.
"So, just five days after being away for so long, Jeremy
wants to go away again?" Pamela was rightfully angry, yet
meanwhile, I was feeling like a worthless piece of scum. I
had no idea that my being away had such an adverse reaction
on the household. The trip to Pennsylvania had been necessary
considering the circumstances, but was a two day getaway to
Las Vegas necessary as well? Perhaps Pamela was right. Not
at the expense and well being of everyone else.
"He can take Krissy to Las Vegas after Christmas, after
the New Year, if he wants," Pamela continued. "They can
spend a week there if they want. After our son is born,
actually, would be the best time. I just think, right now,
the two of them going off like that is a horrible idea. A
HORRIBLE idea. Piper and Dani Grace will not react well to
Jeremy being gone again so soon. And Amy? Oh, Amy."
Or I could take the entire family to Las Vegas next year,
once Pamela gives birth to Peyton and he is old enough to
fly. That way, no one in the family would feel alienated.
"I told Jeremy last night," Pamela went on, "what the fuck?
How could he think of doing something like this to us?"
Actually, Pamela voiced her displeasure last evening, but
did not give any real specifics as to why she was so against
the idea of me taking Kristanna to Las Vegas as a birthday
present. Everything made sense now. I had no idea of the
negativity that ensued during our stay in Pennsylvania. If
she said all of these things to me last evening, I would have
never went ahead and made plans for Las Vegas after dinner.
I thought it was one of her mood swings.
No matter; I could cancel. I would just have to eat the
$38,700 that I paid for the hotel room, and the tickets to the
magic and circus shows. Family was far more important.
"Trish is not very happy about Jeremy running off to Vegas
with Krissy, either!" Pamela whined. "For the same damn
reasons that I just stated! Jackson was really fussy and
upset all the time Jeremy was gone, too."
"I've never seen you wound up like this before, Pamela,"
Devon said. "Remember that you are pregnant, honey? Maybe
you should sit down and relax for awhile?"
And with that, something inside of me snapped.
Unable to bear the thought of Pamela being so horribly
agitated over something that was my doing while she was six
months pregnant, I scurried into the reception room and made
a beeline for her. Devon and Scarlett looked on as I brought
Pamela into my arms and hugged her fiercely, promising, "The
trip is canceled. You're right, baby. I don't need to go
running off again so soon after being gone for so long."
Pamela relaxed and the anger just seemed to evaporate from
her all at once, and she brought both hands up to my shoulders
and began sobbing against my chest. Ahhhhh, the hormones of a
pregnant woman. I held and comforted her for over a minute,
and placed several kisses upon the crown of her head.
"Let's have you sit down, Pamela," Devon again suggested,
and this time Pamela nodded her head. "Why don't you go over
to the sofa with Jeremy," Devon added, "and sit on his lap?
I bet that will make you feel really calm and happy."
"Oh no," Scarlett insisted, shaking her head vehemently.
"No way. You're not going to sit on his lap whatsoever.
Not with the shape Jeremy's back is in today."
Angry, I shot Scarlett quite the evil eye.
"Just who do you think you are?"
Scarlett growled. "WHO DO I THINK I AM? I'm the one
person who is going to see to it that 25 years from now,
you're not needing a walker, or worse, a wheelchair, to get
around." Still upset - being stubborn, I suppose - I simply
glared at her in response. Oh, I am certain that the venom
was spewing from my eyes. Scarlett tossed her hands up in
exasperation. "You know what? Fuck you, Jeremy. FUCK YOU.
You're going to act all defiant and hard headed, so I don't
want to talk to you right now. Or be around you. At all."
And suddenly, Scarlett stormed off in a rage.
"Ummmmm," Devon drawled out. "What... just happened?"
She did not have a clue.
Still visibly shaken, I hugged Pamela in even closer to
me. "Let's go over to the sofa and sit down, honey."
"No," she told me. "You're gonna want me to sit in your
lap, and I don't want you to hurt your back any more than it
already is." Pamela stepped away and extended her hand to
Devon. "Take me off to bed, baby? I want to lay down."
"Of course," Devon answered, still unsure what to think
about what just transpired.
"Jeremy," Pamela quietly said as Devon began leading her
away, "thank you for not going to Las Vegas with Krissy. I
speak for most everyone when I say, we appreciate it."
I nodded my head and did my best to keep my cool until she
and Devon exited the reception room and vanished from my
sight. Then, still furious with Scarlett, I balled up a fist
and threw a wild punch that hit nothing but air. And as a
result, pain, a sickening dose of it, shot from my lower spine
and straight down my right thigh.
* * *
The pain was blinding at first, but settled down somewhat
and I was able to limp my way back to the home office and
close the door behind me. Or, more like drag my right leg
along. I sunk into the chair at the desk as my face reddened
and strained, and I did my best to manage the discomfort.
Lindsay's bra and panties were piled on the floor beside me -
a vivid reminder of her earlier coupling with Trish in this
very room - but even they were not a distraction as I did
everything in my power to will the problem away.
There was a loud, thundering knock on the door moments
later. "JEREMY!" came a loud, whiny screech. Was that
Lindsay? The door literally busted open and in walked
Lindsay, with Trish and Alison flanking her on either side.
And to make a bad day even worse, Lindsay did not seem one
bit happy with me. At all. "JEREMY! WHAT THE FUCK!"
"Huh?" Was that everyone's new favorite saying today?
"I saw video from last night of you in bed with Amy around
two o'clock!" she hissed, and I immediately began to feel even
weaker and more shallow. I knew where this was going. "You
squirming and bucking around in bed, having your dream, with a
big smile on your face! THEN YOU WAKE UP AND TELL AMY THAT
YOU HAD A DREAM ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH MY MOTHER? AND THAT
ALISON AND I WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT, TOO? JEREMYYYYY!"
"Sweetheart, let me explain..."
"WHAT IS THERE TO EXPLAIN? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK
THAT WAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?" Ummmmm. How could Lindsay think
that way about her sister? This coming from the same girl
who was going to marry her very own sister here on the island
this coming Saturday night. Right? A double standard?
Lindsay reared her right arm back and swung wildly, her
hand slapping me clear across the face.
Stunned, I held my face as more pain riveted throughout my
back and glared up at Lindsay through one eye. The little
doll had quite a wallop; that was for sure. I had never
seen her this upset, and she certainly had never struck me -
or anyone else, for that matter - physically before. Lindsay
was way too sweet, and much too docile, to be acting like
this. Unless given proper cause, of course.
"HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT WAY ABOUT MOM?" Lindsay wailed.
"DAMNIT, JEREMY! WHAT THE FUCK! IS NOTHING SACRED ANYMORE?"
And yet again, I had a wife turn and stampede off in anger.
My third of the day. Things just kept getting worse.
Trish and Alison stayed behind, though, and I felt inferior
as Trish stared at me with daggers in her eyes.
"It was just a dream," I told her. "Just a dream. I... I
don't have any thoughts about Leslie that way. I just... it
was just a dream." Did Lindsay really just slap me across
the face? Wow. "Trish, you have to believe me!"
"I do believe you because you've never lied to me before,"
Trish countered, though it was obvious she was quite upset with
me as well. "People have wild and crazy dreams all the time.
I had a dream the other night that there were about 100 trout
in the living room, and they were cleaning the carpet." Eh?
A school of trout - fish - cleaning the carpet? "But fact is,
you had this dream, and Lindsay knows about it. Lindsay is
extremely protective of her mom and her image, her good name,
especially after her dad died back in 2012. You struck a
nerve in her, Jeremy. The WRONG nerve."
"I'm sorry... for being alive today." And the way I felt,
I truly was. Pamela had been angry, although that seemed to
be smoothed over at the moment. Scarlett was still upset with
me, however, and even told me to _fuck off_. But Lindsay
trumped all of that by slapping me across the face and turning
into a little monster. A monster of my own creation. And on
top of everything, my back. My back hurt SO. FUCKING. MUCH.
"You don't have any thoughts about Leslie at all like
that?" Trish clarified. "Be honest with me, Jeremy. I know
you will. You have no thoughts of Lindsay's mother that way?
It was all just an innocent, wild dream? A one-time thing?"
"Yes!" I told her with conviction, and it was fact.
"Very well," Trish conceded. "I'll try and talk to her
for you once she settles down, gets over the initial shock.
Still..." Trish paused, then folded her arms and frowned at
me. "I'm very disappointed in you, Jeremy."
And with that, wife number four of the day, bitter and
upset, turned and left me. At least she did not storm off,
right? Could that even be taken as a positive? Trish, the
eternal ray of sunshine, mad at me too...
That left me alone with Alison, the final equation in the
daughter-mother-daughter dream I had last night. Alison had
not said a word at all yet, and simply stared at me with an
empty, listless expression. Was the volcano in her about to
go off as well? Leslie was her mother, too. Alison was my
fiancee, though nothing was set in stone yet. She just was.
But perhaps she was no longer my fiancee now?
Her lips quivering, and her expression still blank, Alison
turned and simply left the room. Such a fitting end to my
trip through Hell thus far today. And this was Kristanna's
birthday. Wasn't it supposed to be full of fun and cheer?
Weren't all of us supposed to have a great time today?
I actually put my head down on the desk and began crying.
* * *
A couple of hours had passed, with four more aspirin being
popped, and I found myself in the guest cottage that was not
connected to the mansion at all. This had always been a
private refuge for me in the past following an argument with
a wife while on the island. Never before did I have to deal
with four angry wives, as well as an upset fiancee, but that
was beside the point. The guest cottage was quiet and away
from things, and offered me sanctuary of sorts from the day's
troubles. Most of them, at least. But not all.
Instead of relaxing in a comfortable recliner, or the sofa,
I was actually lying on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. My
back was feeling much better now, thanks in large part to the
hard, unrelenting stiffness of this very floor. While here, I
was given ample time to think about everything.
Yes I was stubborn and yes I hated going to the doctor just
as much as the next person did, but perhaps Scarlett was right.
In fact, she was right. At 42 years of age, I should not wake
up with such a debilitating pain in my back just one day after
lugging my 14 month old daughter around for a couple of hours
in her backpack harness. If I was this way now, what would I
be like in 10 years? 20 years? 25? Would I need a walker,
as Scarlett suggested, or even a wheelchair? Was there
something earlier in life - like say, now - that I could have
done to prevent spending my days in a wheelchair?
It had been a year and a half, or thereabouts, since I had
the last MRI on my back. I was diagnosed with degenerative
arthritis in my lower spine. There was no cure for it, I was
told. I would just have to deal with it, and manage it, for
the rest of my life. But that was 18 months ago. What if
there was something else wrong now? What if the arthritis
had transitioned into something worse? Was that possible?
Because some days, the pain was unbearable. Very rarely
had I felt this way in the past, but it was becoming more
and more common nowadays. And that was a big problem which,
following its current trajectory, was only getting worse.
So, I needed to find Scarlett sometime before Kristanna's
birthday party tonight, and ask for her forgiveness. Yes, I
was the one all at fault here, and I admit that. My big head
and stubborn nature. I was going to ask Scarlett to forgive
me, and then talk about ways I could better protect my back
going forward. And yes, I would go and see the doctor - a
surgeon, even - once we returned to Norway. I dreaded the
idea, but it was necessary for my long-term health.
And if I was lucky, perhaps Scarlett would offer to give
me a back massage tonight. Maybe Trish could help her, too?
Oh... what I wouldn't give right now for a back massage.
Lindsay... oh, Lindsay.
I had zero intentions or aspirations of having anything to
do with Leslie, Lindsay's mother, in a sexual sense. There
was not a grand scheme, even in the furthest and darkest
reaches of my mind, of bringing Leslie into the family. The
idea did not appeal to me at all. Obviously, it did not
appeal to Lindsay, either. I was 100 percent honest and
truthful when I told Trish that last night was nothing more
than a random dream of mine. Yet, why did I have that dream?
Was it a byproduct of the upcoming wedding between Lindsay
and Alison, and the fact that Leslie had refused to talk to
either of them for the past several months once finding out
about the engagement? Lindsay and Alison were both upset and
hurt that their mother had completely shut them out of her
life. Was the dream - as sick and as twisted as it was - my
mind's way of trying to reconcile their relationship? To
fix things? But how would that end solution fix anything?
I mean, how many times had I watched both Lindsay and
Alison openly cry the past few months because their mother
felt disgusted and betrayed by them? How many times had
they called Leslie on the telephone, only to be met with a
dead line once saying anything to her?
And me? Leslie _hated me_ with a passion now. We used to
get along, and she became accepting of the fact that Lindsay
had a husband in me, and multiple wives. It took some doing,
but Leslie eventually accepted our lifestyle because Lindsay
was happy. Yet all of that was thrown out the window when
Alison asked to join the family, and then agreed to marry
into it, starting with her very own sister. To Leslie, I was
the ringleader of it all. And now, I was her mortal enemy.
Leslie probably thought I had brainwashed Lindsay somehow,
and then did the same to Alison. That was furthest from the
truth. Lindsay was with us entirely on her own accord, and I
had very little to do with the romantic relationship that she
and Alison developed earlier this year. If anything, I was
quite leery and apprehensive of it at first because I knew,
down deep, that Leslie would have this sort of reaction to it.
Their own family, as a result, was ripped to shreds now.
But getting back to the point, Lindsay - my sweet and
darling, little O-M-G saying princess - slapped me across the
face earlier. Hard. Ruthlessly. My submissive kitten who
did not have an aggressive bone in her entire body found it
necessary to wallop me with her best shot.
And I so deserved it.
I certainly hoped that Trish was able to talk to Lindsay
for me once she settled down. Even with the best case
scenario, I would probably spend several hours tonight
talking to Lindsay and explaining to her what the dream
meant, and why I had it. Or, I would try to. Worst case?
Lindsay would not talk to me for the rest of the week. She
would not go to any further lengths, at least on her own. I
was not worried about her packing up and leaving, for example.
"Jeremy?" came a timid voice from behind me.
I tilted my head back upon the kitchen floor, arching my
neck, and found Alison in the entranceway from the living
room. I then turned and rolled over onto my stomach, and
looked up at her in surprise. What was Alison doing here?
Was she going to rip me a new one too, just like Scarlett
did, and then Lindsay? Or maybe slap me as well?
Still, I could not help it as my eyes wandered over
Alison's very petite and enticing figure in the form-fitting
denim shorts she wore, and the half-open, pink blouse with a
knot tied at her midriff. Good God, Alison was beautiful.
"What are you doing on the floor?"
I stifled a laugh and slowly sat up. Hey, my back was
cooperating for a change. There was no sharp and truly
agonizing pain this time around, though there was still a
fair amount of discomfort. "It's nothing, honey," I told
her. "Just relaxing... meditating... is all." Meditating?
"Jeremy, can we talk?" Uh oh. Here it comes. Yet Alison's
face was still devoid of any emotion, almost as if she was too
scared to breathe. What had I done? Was I even aware of the
immense amount of damage that I had caused?
Why did I feel so defensive right now? Oh, that's right...
Alison may be here to use my face as a slapping board, too.
Or worse? Maybe tell me that our relationship was finished
because I was a sick and twisted freak with lewd thoughts?
I held out a hand, then retracted it and simply motioned
for her to come closer. I studied Alison for a moment and
volunteered, "Of course. We really need to talk." I prayed
to the high Heavens that, at the very least, Alison would
listen to my side of the story. I was not a bad guy with
bad thoughts. I made a mistake, I suppose, and the very
open-ended, honest nature of our family (and the voyeur room)
brought it to the forefront. No secrets here, remember?
I decided to seize the opportunity. "Alison, let's talk
about how you are feeling right now."
Reflexively, Alison's fingers fluttered toward her temple
and she shook her head as if a bad headache was present.
"It's okay, Jeremy. I mean... Lindsay. She is still upset,
even threw a wild fit and went rampaging throughout the
house, but is... better now. Trish talked to her. So did
Krissy." Kristanna talked to Lindsay? Oh, dear Lord... that
woman came to my rescue yet again? I lost track long ago of
how many times Kristanna had bailed me out. "I think you need
to talk to Lindsay too... and... and smooth things over a bit,
but I think everything will be okay... in the long run."
That was reassuring, and very hopeful, positive news, but
my focus right now was actually on Alison.
"What about you?" I asked her. "How are you feeling?"
Alison's eyes brushed the floor in defeat.
"Talk to me, honey," I begged her. "You've been an
everyday fixture in my life for close to 10 months now. I
love you very, very much, and I would do anything for you.
Please know that it was just an innocent, random dream on my
part, and I do not think about your mother that way at all."
Was it really innocent? I mean, is dreaming about banging
your wife's mother truly innocent? Your fiancee's mother?
How could such a thought, or a dream, be construed as innocent?
When Alison sat down in a nearby chair and opted to stay
silent, I decided to approach things from a different angle.
I inclined my head to meet her eyes, which were still cast
downward. "Hey, honey. How did you find me? How did you
know that I was here in the guest cottage?"
"I... with the... voyeur room." Alison gulped her throat.
She seemed really nervous and on edge, which probably did not
bode well for me. The girl was far too nice to shoot someone
down and tell them that their relationship was over, but
probably felt that she needed to break my heart because it
was the only possible option. Maybe it was tearing her up
inside? Oh God... if Alison just let me explain!
"I... I deactivated the camera... for the guest cottage,"
Alison finally offered. "The controls for the voyeur room
are... are similar... to the one we have... back home. I
wanted to be able to talk to you in private, without anyone
being able... being able to go back, and hear what was said."
"Oh? And what do you want to say?"
Silent tears streamed down her face. So not good.
"Alison, honey, let me explain!" I openly begged her. Was
this the first time that our family's all-honesty policy was
going to come back and bite me in the end? My God, if Alison
left, it may rip our family apart! What if Lindsay ultimately
decided to follow her? They were sisters, after all. And
Trish too? Trish would go in any direction that Lindsay went.
"I'm not some deviant who thinks about your mother that
way!" I exclaimed. I could not believe the words that were
coming out of my mouth. Four years ago, I would have never
imagined that my life would be this way. Seven wives, a
fiancee, sisters marrying sisters, and knee-deep in incest
talk concerning my mother-in-law. How did I possibly get to
this point? "Alison, you have to believe me!" I was about
ready to break down and start crying again. "Sweetheart,
you have to believe me. You just do!..."
"Jeremy, it's... it's okay."
Okay? It's okay? Really? What was okay?
"I love my mother very, very much, and always have," she
stated. "When Dad died, nearly four years ago, my whole
world was turned upside-down." Oh... how many times had
Lindsay spoke of the heartbreak she suffered when their
father passed away in November 2012? The same obviously
held true for Alison. "He was gone, and I realized that all
I had left in this world was Mom, and my three sisters."
"We all became really close once Dad passed away, really
tight-knit, and I realized just how important my family was
to me," Alison continued. "Which, you know, when I moved
here back in January and pursued the one thing I wanted most -
a relationship with my sister - Mom eventually shut me out of
her life as a result. She hated the idea. Mom did the same
to Lindsay. She cannot stand the idea of us being in love.
And it hurts. It really, really... hurts." Alison's words
trailed off and the emotion overtook her. She cried, sitting
back in her chair and seeming quite desolate.
Ignoring the ache in my back, I sprung up and set a folding
chair down in front of Alison, and promptly took a seat there.
I reached out and gently grasped her hand, feeling the need to
comfort and console her as she began crying harder now.
"Doesn't Mom realize what she is doing to us?" Alison spat
out, raising her voice with me for the first time today. "We
already lost Dad, Lindsay and I. He's gone... never get to
see him again, never get to say goodbye. And now?" I smoothed
Alison's hair and looked at her with heavy sympathy. "Now?
Mom is gone, too. Both my parents... gone."
"Your mother is not gone," I corrected her. "She is upset
and angry right now because of the personal decisions that you
and Lindsay have made in your lives. I have faith that your
mother will eventually get over it, and things will be fine."
"You do? Really?" Alison responded with a spiteful tone,
and did not seem all too convinced. "I don't."
"You may not believe this, Alison, but your mother misses
you too," I advised her. "You have been a part of her life
as long as she has been a part of yours. Your mom loves and
cares for you. She loves and cares for Lindsay, and your
other two sisters as well. I could clearly see that in the
time that I've spent around Leslie in the past, talked to her.
She is angry now, upset, but it will pass."
Alison frowned. "Marrying my own sister is a pretty big
obstacle in terms of Mom forgiving me, and moving on."
"It is," I nodded. "But, she will. Eventually."
"There's been a big void in my life since Dad passed away."
A tear streaked down Alison's cheek, and she moved quickly to
swipe it away. "I always looked up to Dad, you know? It was
SUCH a shock that day when Lindsay and I came home from school
and found him..." Alison paused, then took a deep breath and
pressed on, "We found him dead on the sofa. Heart attack."
"It was awful what the paramedics did that day, honey, when
they pronounced him dead and just left you and Lindsay alone,"
I muttered, my body trembling with rage at the mere thought.
"Lindsay has told me the story of that day so many times. The
paramedics left you and Lindsay alone with your father on the
sofa, and called the coroner, and the police, too. They just
left you and your sister like it was no big deal."
"Can I tell you something, Jeremy?"
"You can tell me anything, honey."
Alison paused, obviously struggling yet again. "I don't
know how to say this, so I'll just say it. You're like...
the most nurturing, kindest, warmest... most genuinely
affectionate person that I have ever met." My eyes widened
at those words, and I could do little to suppress the smile
that slid across my lips. "Yet, you have a different side
to your personality as well - the dominant side." I looked
at her quizzically, unsure how to take that statement. Did
Alison not enjoy our occasional BDSM games?
"You're more than twice my age," she added, "yet I have
come to love you like no other guy I ever have before, and
you've also helped me discover my submissive side. I am a
submissive, just like my sister, and I respond well to it.
I have learned to look up to you, Jeremy, in the time we have
been together, and respect you more than you will ever know."
"Thank you, honey," I told her. "That is very nice." And
it was, wasn't it? But what point was she getting at here?
"I consider myself very lucky to be able to explore my
submissive nature and tendencies with you," Alison continued.
"There is that age gap, obviously, and I find you so much
more mature and wise than guys my own age. You know what
works in a relationship and what doesn't. I... respect you.
I love you, Jeremy, so very much."
I let out a pathetic laugh. "Do you still love and respect
me after that dream I had concerning your mother?"
"Yes," she responded with certainty. "I'm not even upset
about it. I think it was fine."
Surprised, I did a double-take. "You do? Really?"
"You're the father figure in my life now, Jeremy," Alison
proclaimed. "I don't have a father anymore, unfortunately,
but I think it is beneficial for me - with my passive and
submissive mindset - that I have that sort of figure in my
life. A father figure; someone that I look up to, respect,
someone I admire. Someone who guides me. You're the perfect
age for it, too - Dad was only seven years older than you."
Alison seemed to be attempting to gauge my reaction, but
soon a new flow of tears began cascading down her face. "I
am not freaking you out... am I, Jeremy?" Freaking me out?
Goodness gracious, no! Shouldn't it be the other way around?
She was frantic now, fearful.
"Of course you aren't, sweetheart."
And before I knew what happened next, Alison sprung forward
and landed upon my lap, her legs hooking and curling around my
lower waist as the folding chair whined and creaked beneath us.
She gave a little bounce sitting astride my pelvis, my flaccid
cock coming to life as it pressed against her soft pussy mound,
albeit through several layers of clothing.
"You're older and so mature, Jeremy, and I have all the
respect for you in the world," she reiterated, before giving
another little sob. "And when you go dominant with me, like
Lindsay, I feel so safe and protected. The... spankings hurt,
I do not like them as much as Lindsay, but they are... they
are necessary, for the type of relationship you and I have."
"Oh? And what type of relationship do we have, exactly?"
Alison pulled back and grinned at me, her pretty blue eyes
brimming with tears. "You're my Daddy now." My entire body
strained and I inhaled a deep breath as she elaborated, "That
is how I look at you, Jeremy. It's how I've looked at you
since we first started having sex together. You're Daddy.
Not my father, not a replacement for my father at all, but
just... Daddy. Daddy. Two entirely different things." She
offered a playful grin and coyly added, "And I am a little
girl, who needs a good spanking sometimes to help keep me in
check, and a hard cock to play with most of the time to keep
me... happy." She ended her thought with a giggle.
Ummmmm?...
Alison slowly brought her right hand between us and slipped
it beneath my trousers. A sigh came unhidden from my throat
as she used her long, supple fingers to cup and squeeze my
growing erection, only to then look me straight in the eyes
and whisper, "Is it okay if I call you Daddy from now on?
Only when we are alone, and when no one else is around? I
don't want the others to have any... funny thoughts."
"Yes," I replied without even giving it any thought, and
Alison promptly threw both arms around me in a wild embrace.
But thought was necessary. I knew exactly what Alison
wanted. She wanted to add a Daddy Dom and little girl dynamic
to our relationship. The 20-year-old wanted me to act as that
so-called father figure because her actual father was no
longer alive. She wanted to go beyond that, obviously, by
relinquishing all control to me; for me to be that firm and
guiding hand in her life, and to punish her when I saw fit.
And give her plenty of hard cock.
"Can I tell you something else, Daddy? A secret?"
"What, baby?" Did I just say those words, in that tone?
I was still trying to understand and process the whole Daddy
Dom scenario within my mind. It hit me like a trailer truck,
and I found myself reeling. Yet it did not even come close
to comparing to what she was about to say to me.
"This is why I deactivated the camera in the voyeur room."
Alison pulled back yet again and her eyes, still saturated
with moisture, widened a bit and then her face seemed to
blush with childlike shame. "I... I have a secret, Jeremy...
Daddy. Something I... I have never told anyone before. No
one, not even Lindsay. But I... I want to tell you."
"What is it?" Everything was magnified to me right now.
I was bouncing Alison on my lap, my hand on her hip, just as
an older and more mature authority figure would as she
prepared to divulge what seemed to be a closely guarded
secret. But what type of secret was it? A dirty secret?
"I... I have no problem that you had that dream about my
mother, J-Jeremy," she offered, reverting back to using my
actual name once more. Tears of fright and shame threatened
to overtake her eyes now. "I... I've been attracted to Mom
for years." My jaw dropped as hot shock flashed throughout
my body. The admission was as intimate as it was astonishing.
As a result, Alison began to cry again. Perhaps telling me
what was obviously her innermost secret mortified her more
than she thought it should. She wilted upon my lap, and I
brought her into my embrace, even though my mind was in a
dizzying haze. Alison was attracted to her mother? WOW...
I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say
right now - at the top of the list was why, and it was so
wrong of her to feel this way about her mother - but she was
so upset and fussy that I needed to calm her down first.
"Shhhhh, baby," I consoled her. "Shhhhh... settle down."
"I'm a b-bad girl!"
"No, you're not." She needed to hear me say that, right?
Alison struggled to breathe without crying, already so
horribly ashamed that I found it surprising that she opted
to explain herself further. "I have always felt... that Mom
was beautiful, nearly the... the perfect woman. I was... I
was attracted to her... long before I was... Lindsay."
"Really?" I did my best not to sound upset or appalled at
her. I reminded myself that this was the same girl who asked
for entrance into our family earlier this year, and was going
to marry her sister in just six short days. Should I really
be surprised that Alison, who instigated the relationship with
Lindsay, was attracted to her mother as well? But I could not
show any of those emotions or thoughts just yet. In fact, I
did my best to come across as painstakingly neutral as I used
a firm tone in saying, "Look at me, young lady."
But it seemed that Alison did not want to. Was she afraid
that she would find disappointment or horror in my eyes? My
expression? Clearly, Alison did not want to see anything
negative in my reaction to her shocking admission. Given the
circumstances, it would probably crush her spirits.
"Daddy said... for you to look at him."
Haltingly, Alison raised her head to meet my gaze. Again,
I could not believe the words that just come out of my mouth.
"You're safe, honey," I assured her, gently. "Our family has
its no secrets rule, but this goes well beyond that. I will
not tell the others anything of what you have said to me unless
you want to share it with them yourself." Alison vehemently
shook her head as I added, "Do you feel safe with me?"
Now, she was nodding. "Yes, I do."
"Tell me more about your attraction to your mother." Soft
spoken, gentle even - but a command nonetheless.
Alison wanted to melt upon my lap and eventually into the
floor itself. "I... I love her, and find her... very sexy,"
she confessed, her guilt compounding with every word I pulled
from her. "I... I... I always... have."
"And because I had a dream about your mom, you are telling
me of your own fantasies and desires."
It was not a question on my part, but Alison answered it
anyway. "Yes, Daddy. I... I have long fantasized... about a
three-some with Mom and... Mom and... Lindsay." She paused,
but then added, "Amy said... Amy said your dream... it was a
three-some with Mom and... and me. Me. Lindsay eventually
joined your dream, right?" Alison sniffed her nose and nodded
once more. "That's my fantasy now, Jeremy. To be with you
and Mom... M-M-Mom and... and D-Daddy... and my big sister."
I studied her. Silent. Assessing. We certainly had
different viewpoints on the situation - I maintain that I
have zero attraction for her mother and would certainly not
do anything to jeopardize my marriage with Lindsay - but I
had to tread lightly here, and not shatter Alison's psyche.
"Do you know what you are, honey?"
Alison had never seemed so utterly dejected before. "A
sick and twisted pervert?"
"No, never that." It was time to give her some good,
positive reinforcement. I gently pushed her out of my lap
and she stood, her knees wobbly, before me. I reached out
and palmed her breasts through the blouse that she wore,
before shrugging it open and peeling down her bra to pluck
at her nipples. Alison stood there, frowning in shame, as
I pulled the blouse all the way off and began working on
her denim shorts. "The fault here is mine, honey. I should
have realized this a long time ago. I should have known."
"Known?" When I spun her around, to lower her denim shorts
from behind, Alison glanced glanced back over her shoulder at
me. I was stripping her nude, but had no real intentions of
doing anything physical with her right now. My back, most
assuredly, would not be able to handle it. "Known what?"
"What you are." I gathered the waistband of her panties
and slid them down her slender hips and thighs. I let the
garment fall straight down her calves into a discarded puddle
of denim and silk at her feet. Soon, her bra was added to
the mix. Alison turned and stood trembling before me now in
nothing but a pair of sneakers and white socks. Her perfect,
ripe, little body there before me, for the taking.
She could not breathe all over again, but this time for an
entirely different reason. "What am I?" Alison whispered,
wanting to know every bit as desperately as she wanted my
hands to keep doing what they were doing, my fingers, light
and feathery, stroking up and down her sides, following the
curves of her hips down her thighs and back up again.
"You're Daddy's little girl." I reached between her thighs
and cupped her pussy, my hand as firm as it was possessive.
"I have a feeling that I may ultimately get into trouble here,
but I love you so much, Alison, and I am going to give you what
you need. I'm going to be that one, special man you need in
your life. Starting now, I am your Daddy when we are alone
together, and you are my girl. My sweet, sweet little girl."
Alison stared at me, slack-jawed, tense and hardly able to
believe what she was hearing. Yet, a sense of relief - and
even a smile - slowly began to spread all over her face.
"You... you're willing to try this with me?"
My own expression turned predatory. "Of course. Now, my
dear, it is time to get over my lap for a spanking." So much
for me not doing anything physical with her, huh? I had a
right to change my mind. "You need to be punished for having
such lewd thoughts and ideas concerning your mother. Aren't
you a church going girl, Alison? Used to sing in the choir
every Sunday like your sister did? Yet you sit and daydream
in your spare time of having sex with your own mother?" I
snapped my fingers at her. "Over my knee. Now."
Alison undulated her hips upon my palm, enjoying the feel
of my fingers pressing hard into her pussy. Suddenly, Alison
was quite turned on. She was, in fact, a raging inferno.
And she could clearly ride my hand for much longer and did not
seem to want that feeling to end. So, I scooped her 103 pound
frame up by the waist in one, quick motion, and then plopped
her down, pelvis first, directly across my lap.
WHACK! Firm hand met tight, bare-ass bottom. Alison could
easily take much more as I went quite lenient on her to start.
Still, it gave her an excited rush, and she made a good show
of thrashing around a bit as my hand kept smacking away.
Over the next ten minutes, the speed and ferocity of the
blows were pushed up a notch and Alison, who was usually
quiet during punishment time, cut loose with some genuine
squeals of pain. Yet the spanking, combined with everything
we had discussed beforehand, drove Alison absolutely wild!
Her heart pounded, lungs heaved, hips rolled to offer up her
ass as a perfect target, and her pussy was glistening, soaked.
She tried to conceal her moans of arousal by yelping louder.
"What do you think, baby?" I finally asked her. "Is that
enough of a spanking for today? I don't want to push you."
Alison sighed heartily for a moment and brushed her taut
breasts against my upper thigh, stimulating her nipples.
Her entire body seemed like a pressure cooker.
"I thought you were going to discipline me, Daddy," she
pouted. "Not give my butt a tender, little massage."
Oh my. She sounded like Lindsay now. Alison, who claimed
to not even enjoy being spanked all that much, was asking for
more. She was asking for _a lot_ more. The girl was so wound
up right now that she was begging for it.
I resumed with my hand, slapping quite harshly, one cheek
then the other. Alison was quite a bit more animated now than
before as the challenge had been thrown down. Soon, she began
to struggle and stiffen underneath my increasing power. "Relax
that ass, honey, or I'll use a hairbrush on you."
Soon, the sound of hand-slapping-ass was echoing loudly
throughout the room. I had never spanked Alison quite this
hard before, but I had an inkling this was what she needed
now more than anything else. She needed to be punished for
having such impure thoughts about her very own mother. Alison
got aroused and loved it at first as usual, but now it hurt
and she hated it. Later, I intended, she would love it again.
Alison pushed against me. "Stop, Jeremy! It hurts!"
But I did not stop; I spanked her harder, pausing to say,
"You don't get to decide when we're done. I do."
Now the swats were unrelenting and furious, and she writhed
and contorted, trying to move away from the punishing strikes.
"You ready for the brush?"
"NO, PLEASE!" she begged. "My ass is already so sore!
You have to stop. The brush will hurt too much."
"It's supposed to hurt," I reminded her. "That little butt
of yours needs more than a tender, little massage, right?"
Alison whined at those words - clearly regretting what she
said earlier - as I added, "Why am I spanking you?"
"Because I fantasize about being with Mom... OWWWWW!" The
thick, bristly brush landed hard, a heavy splat across her
left ass cheek, and she wailed out at the bright new burn.
"Stay still." I peppered her ass again, and she jumped
underneath my arms and tried to squirm free.
"It's too hard, Jeremy! It hurts!" She tried to reach
back, yet I grabbed her hand. I also took note of the fact
that she did not address me properly. I was... Daddy.
The brush came down again, again, again. She was helpless
to stop me, and had to lie there and just take it.
"It hurts!"
I stilled and rubbed her ass. "I'm not going to stop,
Alison, because both you know and I know that you're hot as
hell right now. If you really want me to stop, all you have
to do is say the safe-word that you, Lindsay and Amy have,
and the spanking will end." That safe-word, by the way, was
_bumblepuppy_. If I heard that term, or anything closely
resembling it, I would cease immediately. "And this is how
you want our relationship to be, isn't it? ISN'T IT?"
"Yes!" she cried. "Yes, yes! A million times yes!"
"I'm not done. You're going to stand up in front of me
without rubbing your ass and explain to me why you deserve
ten more good, hard swats with the brush." Alison's eyes
nearly bulged from their sockets as I continued, "Explain
why being submissive to Daddy is so important to you."
"I can't!"
"Then we're done for the afternoon, and I won't fuck you.
Is that what you want? You decide."
I helped her stand up, caressing her wrists with my thumbs,
firm and tender at the same time. "Do you have something to
say to me, Alison? Allie-gator?" The same nickname that her
mother occasionally called her while growing up.
Alison's eyes burned with a fierce need and passion, and
the love they conveyed - in addition to the lust - fueled my
own. It had been a work in progress, our BDSM games over the
past few months, but Alison and I clearly wanted each other
and everything kinky we did together. I wanted to dominate
and spank her into submission like this, because it was one
of the sexiest fucking things I had ever done. She had the
freedom to choose, and was well within her right to walk away
or ask me to stop - or slow up - at any given time. It made
the notion of her accepting her fate all the more powerful.
Alison stood in front of me, her ass burning, but kept
her hands in front of her body. "Daddy, I want to be obedient
in bed and do what you want. I want to be a good submissive
for you. Please spank me with the brush to teach me a lesson
about obedience and to remind me that I need to be much more
respectful toward you next time."
I smiled and patted my lap. "Ten more hard swats with the
brush. Then I'm going to fuck you."
Back over my lap, Alison sucked in her breath at my touch.
This was the harshest spanking I had ever given her, yet it
was not over. Yet Alison braced herself, knowing there would
ultimately be much more pleasure out of this for her than pain.
The brush spanks that came were quite intense and she cried
out with each one, grabbing at my calves, and when they were
done, she slumped over my body in relief. "Daddy, that hurt!"
I picked her up and lay her down upon the floor, and rubbed
her ass. "So fucking beautiful and red, Alison. Gorgeous.
Turn over and spread those legs for me now. Knees up."
She obeyed, whimpering at the waves of heat that radiated
from her sore ass. "Just being on the floor hurts, Jeremy."
"You'll forget about all of that in a minute," I promised,
stripping off my shirt. Alison inhaled sharply yet again and
offered a wicked grin as I soon tossed aside my trousers and
boxers. Seeing me naked definitely gave her another rush.
"Hands up and don't move," I ordered, and then my face was
between her thighs and my mouth was on her clitoris, my warm
breath merging with her urgent moisture.
She moaned and flexed her entire body. "God."
"You like that?" I already knew the answer to that. I
was well aware of which spots on Alison to flick with my
tongue, and where to draw it along slowly, teasing her with
my touch. When I licked in small flurries, Alison would
buck her hips and whine, and when I swiped from her anus to
her clitoris, she would cry out, incoherent, and push her
pelvis up into my face, begging for release.
Soon Alison was crying out, small bursts of sound, her
hands balled into fists near her head. "Jeremy, please.
Daddy! Oh, oh, oh! Yes, right there! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"
"You want to cum, baby?" I casually asked her.
"Yes, please."
"Too bad... not yet."
She made a strangled noise as I circled my tongue around
her clitoris. "Please!"
"When happens if you cum too soon? Remember the other day
what I told Lindsay if she came too soon, when she was with
you and I in the library? Do you remember?"
"Five with the belt," she whispered. "And then no more
orgasms the rest of the day." Saying those words almost
caused Alison to burst right there. This particular threat,
which I had no intentions of actually carrying through on (at
least the no orgasm part - I would gladly use the belt on her),
was something that made her (and Lindsay) combust with hot
passion. Alison somehow knew that I would not do it, but the
slight uncertainty made her insane with desire and need.
"That's right. Five hard lashes with the belt. You want
that right now? And no more orgasms today?"
"No!" Alison squirmed and breathed quite heavily. "Oh
God, Daddy. God." The passion in her body was overwhelming.
She tried, but it became more and more difficult each
second. My mouth and its seasoning, its knowledge, was too
much for her aching libido and soon she begged in sheer,
utter desperation, "I swear, I can't hold out any longer!
Please, Daddy! Can I cum? May I cum?"
"I love to hear you beg like a good submissive, a good,
little girl." My cock was so incredibly hard right now.
"Beg, baby. Let me hear you plead for that orgasm. Tell
Daddy how you're going to earn it."
"Please fuck me, right now!" she cried. "You want it too,
Jeremy... Daddy! I swear, let me cum right now and I'll give
you a blowjob on my knees every morning the rest of the week."
"Every morning?" I tapped her pussy with my forefinger.
She jumped. "Yes!"
"Without me asking or telling you to? You'll get up first
thing each morning and come kneel by my side of the bed and
beg to suck my cock and swallow my cum? Or, I will come to
you, and you will wake up with my cock in your face, and you
will suck me off immediately? And if you don't, you'll accept
a good, hard paddling?"
I tapped her pussy again and she yelped, using all of the
willpower and energy within her to hold back. "Yes, please!
Let me cum. I don't want the belt. Stop teasing me. I'll
get on my knees and beg to suck you off and I'll have the
paddle right there to let you know I'm serious."
"Deal." I smiled and moved up to Alison's face and kissed
her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. I then glided back
and got on my knees over her, pulling her legs up and hooking
her calves around my neck and shoulders. "I'm going to fuck
you now, Allie-gator. Is that what you want?"
"Yes!" she chanted, squeezing her eyes shut in pleasure.
"God, yes! Yeah, Daddy. Please fuck me!"
I thrust slowly a few times, then began pumping harder.
Alison's orgasm rose fast and seemed to hover at the edges
of her body like a white, blinding light. She shuddered and
I sensed it was going to be a tremendous release, a gorgeous,
perfect orgasm. "Alison, I want you to think about what it
feels like - how good it feels - to have me fucking you now.
And then, I want you to imagine what it would be like if your
mother was here with us now, and she was riding your face."
The 20-year-old's eyes bulged out in response.
"Imagine your mom cumming all over your face as I fuck you
hard, relentless, your ass all sore from being spanked."
And with that, Alison rocketed to the stratosphere and
exploded into shards of molten metal, liquid sun raging so
hot and bright from the inside that she screamed, the
pleasure - the imagery - too much for her body for contain.
She writhed and bucked underneath me, pushing her hips to
mine, frantic, riding me to squeeze every excess drop of
enjoyment from the situation. The feeling came and came for
her, kept coming, and she cried, panted, shouted. I squeezed
her nipples for good measure and she screamed out again.
Then I was pumping hard, driving into her body with enough
force to literally force us through the floor, and when I
came, I shouted her name, loud and hoarse, "ALISON!"
* * *
Later, as we lay together, our arms and legs entangled,
Alison spoke gently into my chest. "You did your absolute
best, Jeremy, but even after you ramped it up, that spanking
was still nothing more than a tender, little butt massage."
I laughed. "Oh really? You're really asking for it now,
aren't you, missy? Next time, I'll use Amy's whip. The one
with the strands on the end that makes Lindsay scream."
Alison gulped her throat. "I'll be waiting for it." She
had been trying to tease me, but I was not teasing her. Not
at all. Alison quickly caught onto that.
I laughed again. "I bet you could use a big bowl of ice
cream now, couldn't you? Chocolate ice cream, with sprinkles
on top?" Alison eagerly nodded her head as I sat up and
glanced down at her. "You're in luck, because there is a
bowl in the freezer, and we have some sprinkles to go with it."
"Do I have to suck your cock in order to get it?" Alison
held out her hand, acting serious, but then I grabbed it and
kissed her, and pulled her to me for a bear hug. "Jeremy!"
she squealed, giggling. "You're suffocating me!" But then
Alison relaxed and offered, "I love you." She reached up and
palmed the side of my face; the same spot Lindsay slapped
earlier, and gave a bitter shake of her head as a result.
"I love you, too." I touched her hand and added, "Always.
We are going to talk about your mom and the feelings you have
for her in the future, honey, but right now I'm going to get
up and bring you a nice, big bowl of chocolate ice cream."
When I swung my legs over the top of Alison, however, I
felt something in my back pop and I toppled over onto my
side, reaching for the offending area as the most horrible,
excruciating pain I had ever felt extended from my spine and
went to all the far reaches of my body. I screamed out in
total agony and pounded my fist upon the floor, fearful - no,
knowing - that something serious was wrong this time.
"JEREMY!" Alison cried, quickly rising to her knees and
looking down at me with morbid fright. "WHAT'S WRONG?"
<<<- End of Chapter 07 ->>>
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"Island Fever 6: Sanctuary"
(c) 2016 JeremyDCP
- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
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