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The story so far. From the age of six I was brought up by my Father's girlfriend, Janet, who I always called 'Mum'. Mum had a daughter, Chrissie, she was three weeks younger than me. When we were twelve Mum threw my Father out when she caught him trying to molest Chrissie. We haven't seen him since. On my eighteenth birthday I had sex with Mum and on Chrissie's eighteenth birthday I had sex with her.
I got a job in Graphic Design. It turned out that the Boss's Daughter was my birth Mother. My Father had thrown her out and taken me to his new girlfriend. My Mother and I had sex. I had sex with Molly, our 'older woman' next door neighbour. Her husband had died and he asked me to 'take care of her' I didn't realise that he meant sexually. I enjoyed it immensely and she taught me lots of ways to please a woman. Soon after that I had sex with Sarah, who lived at the other end of our terrace. Her husband wanted another child but was unable to do the deed. Sarah asked me to substitute for him.
For all the details please read Chapters 1 thru 12.
"Hiya! Deadeye Dick!"
Genetic parameters determine that 19 year old young men cannot look into prams, smile happily at the contents and make silly, incomprehensible, coo-coo-key-chou type noises. Fortunately those same parameters actively encourage 19 year old young men to stop and talk to attractive women at every opportunity.
Despite being married to an idiot Sarah was very attractive. That Rihanna, the contents of said perambulator, chuckled gleefully, waved her arms and kicked her legs when I peeked in, smiled at her and made silly, incomprehensible, coo-coo-key-chou type noises, I put down to either wind or tummy ache.
"The little one looks happy," I observed cheerfully.
"I think that might be because her parents are very happy, don't you?"
=== === ===
A good many things happened in the year since I'd embarked on the quest to make Sarah pregnant.
I'd become a proper Father, name on Birth Certificate and everything. Mum delivered me a big, beautiful bouncing baby girl, Janette, a little Janet, and perfect in every way possible.
=== === ===
The nursing staff wouldn't let me in the room so I hung around outside the door hoping my enthusiasm would break them down. The boss arrived, that's the Midwife, not my Mother.
"You the Dad?" she asked bluntly.
"I am," I replied, proudly standing to full height and pushing my chest out.
She looked me over critically.
"I can believe that," she said at length, "follow me."
I followed her through the door obediently.
"You sit there," she said pointing to the chair in the corner, "you faint and you lay where you fall, we'll be too busy. You're sick and you clean it up yourself. No matter what, you stay sat in that chair until I say otherwise! OK?"
"May I say hello? So she knows I'm here, close by."
"Of course. You think I'm an ogre," she chuckled.
=== === ===
"They let you in?" asked Mum delightedly.
"That nice young Lady said I could sit in the naughty corner provided I was as quiet as a church mouse. She said that if I had a heart attack I'd have to sing the Bee Gees song to myself." I whispered loudly.
"I never once mentioned a church mouse," the Midwife sniggered, "and flattery will get you anywhere."
"The Bee Gees song?" giggled Mum.
"Ha Ha Ha Ha, staying alive, staying alive," I sang, way off key.
"If you're going to make us laugh make sure it isn't when we are at a crucial point in delivering your Daughter," laughed the Midwife, "got plenty to read? You could be here quite a while."
"Yep, got plenty to keep me occupied, thanks."
"Well, give the Mother of your child a big kiss, tell her how much you love her then go and sit in the naughty corner and be quiet, like a good boy."
I did exactly that. Winked cheekily at the Midwife and mouthed 'Thanks'. I sat, got my sketch pads and pencils out and absorbed the atmosphere.
I started sketching.
=== === ===
Things eventually kicked off and I was pleased for the preparation I'd done and the box full of sharpened pencils ready to hand.
It calmed down again. Those of you that have been in the same position will understand that it's not a simple, start then end process. It can go on for hours with peaks and troughs all along the way.
Helen, the midwife, wandered over, during a bit of a lull, while I was frantically trying to fill in some of the detail. I honestly didn't even notice her. She waited, I don't know how long, until I stopped for a breather.
"That's pretty good, Dad. Do I really look like that? Seem to have lost quite a bit of weight?"
"Take a look in the mirror tonight. I think you'll find I've got you about right," I whispered cheekily.
"And I 'spose you'll want a selfie to prove it?" she chuckled, "we've reached a bit of a lull. Got time to go and hold the Mum's hand and tell her you love her again?"
"Again? I haven't stopped loving her the first time yet," I chuckled, "I have all the time in the world."
Taking Mum's hand in mine I brought it to my lips and kissed each finger tenderly then bent to her ear.
"You bloody won't!" she laughed loudly.
"Won't what?" asked Helen with a chuckle.
"You don't want to know!"
"If it makes her laugh like that and helps her to relax then I do."
"He said," said Mum, "if it's going to be like this every time, he'll settle for blow-jobs in future!"
Everyone laughed.