Harold the Healer, Chapter 16: Harold's Birthday, Part One
"Happy Birthday, Papa!" It was far too early in the morning for anyone to be this bouncy, but somehow Harold's eleven-year-old daughter Marcie managed it. Every day. Harold Moser, Doctor of Magical Medicine and Veterinary Medicine, recipient of the Order of The Kingdom, the Golden Star of Carcosa, and the Silver Star for Valour, grunted and pulled the covers over his head. Stormy, the kitten he'd rescued from the roadside rest stop five weeks ago, was displaced and decided to join his three-legged adopted sister Daisy, whom Leila had acquired the same day from a pet shop because nobody wanted her, in attacking his feet.
"Lies!" he announced with bedding-muffled denial. "My birthday is January 5th!"
"That's my birthday, Harold," said Leila Parsons, his beloved wife and mother of Marcie. She was standing on the floor next to her side of the bed dressed in a pink nightie with her half copper, half silver hair that fell below her shoulders in disarray from having just gotten up a few minutes ago.
"See, I remember your birthday, sweetheart!"
"You're supposed to remember it on the day, not four months before it!"
"September, January, whatever. I'm rejecting this birthday and will never get older!"
"Get up, you. Birthday or not, you still have a job to go to, a daughter to escort to school, and a half-dozen students to greet when they finally show up." She yanked the covers down and Marcie giggled at his exaggerated frown and pout; Leila rolled her eyes and snorted. "You silly man! Breakfast will be waiting when you return from the privy run."
"Fine, I suppose that I do need to attend to my bodily functions," he grumbled. His pair of forest green boxer shorts was revealed when he sat up and swiveled his feet over the edge of the right side of the bed. A pair of pink bunny slippers was there instead of his usual blue ones. "Whoever did this should not be proud of herself." His martyred expression got smiles on both of their faces, smiles that he always wanted to see. "I think it's cool enough for me to need my bathrobe. I hope that it hasn't been swapped too." This hope was dashed when he opened the closet door and saw the matching pink bathrobe with fluffy white fake fur trim. "On second thought, I will be manly and go out in my shorts."
"Nope!" said Marcie, grabbing the robe from its hangar and handing it to her Mama, who was blocking the doorway. She put the garment on her grumbling husband and gave him a kiss that would have woken the dead to soften the blow to his manliness. Marcie basked in the glow of their love as they hustled him to the kitchen door. "You look pretty in pink, Papa!" He stuck out his tongue at both of them as he stepped outside and made haste for the privy. It was a lovely morning, crisp and fresh but not too chilly, something that he couldn't appreciate until after his bladder had been emptied.
He hadn't walked three steps out the privy door before he heard a wolf whistle from next door. It was their neighbours to the north, Myra and Ben Chandler, who were standing on something so that they could look over the six-and-a half-foot wood fence. They'd increased its height during the summer because they'd started hosting sex parties. Their parties were popular because a good portion of their yard was within the outer range of Harold and Leila's orgasm waves, which was still enough to get them going. The two Mages were also very reliable sources of orgasm waves.
"Looking good, Healer Harold!" said Ben with a grin. "Happy birthday!" Harold rolled his eyes and, sensing that he was being watched from the kitchen window, decided on a little revenge.
"I am not Harold, I am Leila!" he replied in a patently fake falsetto, putting his hands on his hips and strutting around. "I am outside testing my new fluffy bathrobe and bunny slippers to see how warm they will keep me." They were snickering at his performance. "I have no chest right now because I haven't put on my inflatable bra yet." The kitchen door opened suddenly and Leila stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.
"Get in here, you!" The Chandlers were laughing too hard to remain on whatever it was they were standing on and their heads disappeared abruptly.
"I think that I will go downtown and parade around in my new bunny slippers and bathrobe," said Harold, still in the falsetto, taking mincing steps toward the side gate that led to the small gravel driveway and Willow Street. "People need to see how pretty I am!" Leila could move very quickly when she wanted to and caught him easily.
"Hmm, are we a little turned on by my costume?" he wheezed in her ear from the bone-creaking embrace. She unsubtly ground her crotch against his leg and he could feel the heat coming from her, as well as her hard nipples pressing into his chest.
"More than I should be," she muttered. "Get in the house and have your breakfast."
"Yes, dear," he replied meekly as he was hustled toward the door. "Hang on a second," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes, which were an odd shade of blue with hints of green that made people think of the ocean on a sunny day. He propelled her toward the corner of the house away from the window where Marcie's prying eyes could see. "I want to give the neighbours a little present from the birthday boy," he said for the Chandlers' benefit. He began the all-too-familiar sequence of moves on her almost D-sized breasts, without going under her nightie in case someone was watching, that would provoke an orgasm.
"You nasty man," she moaned. Seeing him in the bathrobe had gotten her hot, and she didn't know why, and his expert squeezes and strokes had her stampeding toward an orgasm in less than a minute. She had to bite her arm to muffle her scream when she came and the lower part of the front of her nightie suddenly became wet. "Damn you, now I have to go to the privy!" She staggered off to said building to Clean herself.
"Was that what I think it was?" Myra asked in a dreamy voice. "I usually don't get hot flashes in the morning. The neighbours only sometimes fuck in the morning."
"That felt like Leila," Ben replied rather fuzzily. "I'm not ready for sex this morning."
"That wet spot at the tip of your pajama tent says otherwise." The purr in her voice was clearly audible to Harold. There was a quick swish of fabric as the pajama tent was removed, followed by a stifled moan from him as she gobbled his cock in her mouth. She didn't care if there was a listener on the other side of the fence; if anything, it made her hotter. "You know what to do with this." There was more fabric rustling as she lifted her nightie, exposing the silver curls of her bush that he'd gotten to know very well after Moser had finally come to stay for good, laid herself on the grass and opened her legs. Mere seconds later, Ben's cock had been stuffed inside in one thrust, making them both moan. Six inches wasn't the longest cock in the world, but it was long and large enough for her, especially when he'd adjusted himself so that his thrusts were rubbing against her clitoris.
"Damn you, Moser, you asshole!" Myra grunted and moaned from the other side of the fence. "Harder! Faster! Now I'll be ruined for the rest of the day!" Her orgasm was coming faster than an out-of-control freight wagon and she felt Ben's cock pulsing as she squeezed it harder and harder until it began squirting and filling her up with its hot load.
"It's a good thing that you're retired, isn't it?" he called back. Conscious that Little Miss Deer Ears was no doubt hearing everything, he refrained from a further explicit suggestion and returned to the kitchen just as Leila emerged from the privy. Marcie had turned eleven in June and had some time before puberty started, at which time he and Leila would have to curtail their lecherous activities, which would be difficult and annoying. "I'm going to put on my proper clothing now," he addressed Marcie, whose innocent look was a near duplicate of his and no more convincing. He went down the hall and into the spare bedroom where he had his clothes it its closet and dresser because Leila didn't want to move the desk and chair that were a feature of her room.
"The Chandlers saw Papa," she told her Mama when she came in, looking rather distracted. "Was Papa teasing you when he was pretending to be you?"
"Oh, he certainly was," she replied, rolling her eyes as she checked the state of the two large frypans and one medium-sized one on the stove that had been heating while they were indulging in birthday antics. The very necessary coffee pot was on the fourth corner. "Great job on the pancake batter, as usual, Marcie!" Her daughter glowed with the praise, while keeping her distance from the stove as Leila placed four dollops of batter into each large frypan. She used a set of tongs to drop three sausages into the smaller pan. "We'll have you working at the Dewdrop Inn in no time!" Marcie wrinkled her nose as her Papa emerged into the hallway, dressed for the day in his work clothes, which were a dusty brown long-sleeved buttoned shirt and an equally brown pair of heavy-duty pants, both made from sturdy hemp fabric, and in his usual slippers which he'd obviously found.
"I'd rather work at Macy's. The Dewdrop Inn is too fancy. They won't even make hamburgers!"
"It's good, basic fare that doesn't lighten the pockets as badly as the Dewdrop Inn does," Harold added as he entered the kitchen. Like all houses in town, even the fancy ones, it was the largest room in the house and its focal point. "The cats have been given their kibble, right?" They were twining around his ankles, meowing and staring up at him with big sad eyes, trying to convince him that they were starving to death when they clearly weren't.
