One Bride for Five Brothers

by Jess Bentley

  “I think I know how to do it,” she sighs.

  She turns back around toward the kitchen and jiggles the bubbling coffee pot on the stove. She takes down two coffee cups, standing up on her toes and showing me those pink soles of her cute little feet. When she stretches the nightgown rides up, revealing that little line under her ass cheek, that sweet little crescent I love diving my tongue into.

  I come up behind her, reaching around to cup of those gorgeous tits in my hands, squeezing gently. My hard-on fits perfectly in her ass crack and I nudge her gently against the counter, hoping she'll respond.

  “Ow,” she says.

  I freeze.

  “Ow? What did I do?”

  She shifts away, crossing her arms over her chest and shrugging apologetically.

  “I don't know… My boobs hurt, I guess. Sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. Just kind of sensitive, I suppose.”

  “Aw, shit, my bad,” I say. “Well, there’s all kinds of other stuff I can do without your gorgeous tits in my hands. Why don’t you come back into bed with me? We’ve got new blankets to try out…”

  She smiles sweetly. “Why don’t you carry me?”

  “Your wish is my command,” I answer immediately, lifting her in my arms with almost no effort.

  She curls up delicately and nibbles at my neck as I sweep her across the room, laying her in the middle of the bed. I draw up the nightgown and slip her panties down at the same time, thrilled to see that trailing line of moisture from her swollen, pink lips to the crotch of her girly little panties.

  “Ready for me already?” I murmur happily. “I'm honored, Vanessa.”

  “God, yes. I want you so bad!” she groans, pushing her hips up toward my face.

  I gasp at the brazen invitation and dive in, plunging my tongue into that dark, sweet hole, lifting up to suckle her tiny pearl. With abandon, I suck and lick her whole sex, slurping the juices and swallowing as she grinds against my face, her fingers clawing the bedspread, her body heaving in my arms.

  Just before she comes, I slip two fingers inside her, tapping forward on her G spot in time with nibbling her clit between my teeth, battering it with my tongue. She calls out, squealing as she comes. A stream of liquid spurts out, splashing across my tongue, almost too fast to swallow.

  Her body is covered in sweat. She pants and gasps, muttering gibberish and giggling to herself with satisfaction.

  “That's my girl,” I coo, crawling up to be even with her in the bed, wrapping her in my arms.

  "Oh my God, I don't even know what came over me! I came so hard!”

  “You squirted into my mouth,” I chuckle.

  “I did?” she gasps, her eyes flying wide open. “I did that? I thought that was a myth!”

  I shrug, amazed. “You know what, I thought it was a myth too. But wow. The guys are going to be so jealous!”

  “Well don't tell them!” she objects, smacking my shoulder playfully.

  I caress her cheek, her hair, watching as her eyes go half closed. She shivers with bliss.

  “You know we don't keep secrets,” I sigh. “It's not just that I want to brag about how great I am at giving head.”

  “And it was okay? It wasn't weird or anything?”

  I smack my lips together, remembering. “Actually, it was delicious. Intense and really sweet. We should put that in the next batch of apple wine!”

  “Shut up!” she laughs, shaking her head.

  “No, I'm serious. We should totally have a line of special Vanessa flavored wines. Then we'd really be global. Everybody would want to taste of you!”

  She tries to wriggle away, but I hold her tightly, reaching up under her nightgown to wrap my hand in the crook of her waist, like I like to do. She's ticklish there, but I don't want to make her squeal too much. She's hot, too, like a baby mammal. I slide my hands over her skin, filling the velvety undulations of this perfect, perfect woman.

  “So you're feeling okay? I really was worried about you when I first got here.”

  “Oh, I guess it was nothing,” she sighs. “Just felt kinda wobbly when I woke up. No big deal.”

  “Understandable,” I comment. “I mean, we've been working you like a broodmare. I don't know why you put up with us. You should apply for hazard pay or something. Maybe a vacation? I mean, you should at least get the week of your period off…”

  My voice trails off.

  Something nags at me, something I forgot, perhaps. Something I'm supposed to remember.

  “Don’t you need a break?” I continue while the back of my mind puzzles it out. “I mean, how long have you been here?”

  Her eyes are wide and round, glittering like a winter sky.

  “Almost eight weeks,” she says in a quiet voice.

  “Eight weeks,” I repeat.

  I sit up, holding my head. Spinning. Eight weeks she's been here, and never had a period. Not even one.

  “Were you going to tell me?”

  She pushes herself up on her elbows, dragging her nightgown down bashfully over her privates.

  “I'm not sure there's anything to tell,” she says defensively.

  “Nothing to tell, huh? Having our baby? That seems a kind of a big deal.” I counter. “That seems like the kind of thing that maybe we’d have a party for, Vanessa. Not something you just keep to yourself.”

  “Well it's my body…”

  “It's our baby,” I interrupt.

  “I don't even know whose it is!” she practically yells. “I mean, I can’t even do the math. It could be any of you, Hank.”

  I turn toward her, taking both of her hands in my hands. She is shaking, I feel it. I wait until she stares back at me and look deep into her eyes.

  “It's all of us, Vanessa,” I explain to her calmly. “It's just family. We are one big family, don't you know that by now?”

  Her lower lip trembles, her chin dimpling and puckering in twitches.

  “Get dressed, Vanessa,” I tell her in a low voice.

  She shakes her head, saying nothing.

  “Get dressed, princess,” I repeat. I tug on her hands until she stands at the foot of the bed with me and kiss her on her sweet, trembling mouth. “Let's go talk to Stan.”

  Chapter 20

  Stan

  Sometimes, this place is like running an adult day care. Not that I don't love these knuckleheads, but five men in one house can get pretty rank. Not to mention rowdy. Tim and Tom have this thing where they like to chase each other down the stairs, daring each other to fall and break their neck. Neither one has managed to succeed so far, but I suppose there is always a chance.

  Charlie is a pain in the ass in his own way, with his nerdy fascinations and what he thinks is a secret collection of rocket paraphernalia. I'm not kidding. Rockets. He used to make models when we were younger, until we teased him into stopping. But I know for a fact he has got a crate under his bed.

  Then there's Hank, who thinks he's a mystery. He's just a softy, really. He's all hard shell on the outside, with a gooey sweet center.

  Way back when we tried to have a woman around the house before, Hank was the one who fell the hardest. Not just head over heels, but ass over teakettle. Chin over elbows. Just rolled up like a ball and sent himself on down the emotional hill.

  So when Mandy came to her senses and decided she was ready to go to college, Hank was shattered like a glass figurine. You can’t tell by looking at him — on the outside he's your average muscle man. He is thick as a tree trunk. Perpetual stubble. A scowl that puts off anybody who doesn't know him personally.

  But he was broken, I'm telling you. Mandy took his heart and stomped on it.

  And she didn't even mean to. I don't think she understood at all. She was probably just having a lark, marking time until college started. We certainly didn't talk about it explicitly, though we should have. I know that now. We’re just a bunch of dumb farmers, so we thought it was understood.

  But, really, who would've thought the head cheerleader wou
ld want to stay holed up with all of us in the orchard, when she could do anything in the world she wanted?

  It goes without saying that we've tried to be different with Vanessa. We've been honest, we've been open. I think we've explained pretty well what we expect from her and what we need from her. But the clock is ticking. She hasn't come up with an answer yet.

  Which I can only assume means the answer is going to be no.

  It'll be heartbreaking to see her go. I've never met anyone as perfect as she is. Intelligent and beautiful, with an adventurous spirit. Her strength is startling, both emotionally and physically. Even the sound of her singing voice touches me in unexpected ways. It's all one perfect package, wrapped up in this curvy blonde beauty that I can't get enough of.

  But at least we will have to be moving. That'll distract us. Setting up a new orchard, getting all the business stuff in place, learning how to work in a new country, even learning the language. All of that will be a welcome diversion from thinking about what we will be leaving behind.

  And maybe Hank is right. He mentioned that maybe we should just all find our own way in the world. Find our own partners, make our own families. It'll be the end of us, I know it. I can barely think about it without choking on sadness. But if that's the way it's got to be, we might as well get on with it.

  “Hey, Charlie,” I say, shuffling over to the dining table. He looks up from his laptop with his eyebrows raised.

  “Hey, Stan,” he answers. “What's up?”

  “Yeah, so I was thinking,” I start, “Portugal? Or Germany?”

  He raises his eyebrows. He takes a few seconds to answer, probably because he knows the same thing I know: that we’re going alone.

  “Well, I think Germany has the better weather, that's for sure,” he says with a weary sigh. He looks down and away, shielding his expression from me.

  “And we’re just about ready?”

  “All I have to do is wire the money,” he shrugs. “It's practically a done deal.”

  “Good job, man,” I smile weakly. “It's amazing you put all this together.”

  He smiles sadly, glancing up at me momentarily. And then his eyes shift as there's a sound at the front door. Hank walks in, holding Vanessa by the hand. She's pretty in a longsleeved pink dress, her hair tucked back behind her ears, her cheeks and nose pink and glowing from the brisk morning air.

  “Hey, everybody,” Hank smiles. He looks awfully proud of himself. “Tim and Tom around?”

  “Yeah, they're here somewhere. Good morning, Vanessa.”

  She smiles at me, dipping her chin shyly. I love how she looks at me with a little bit of girlish modesty, still, even though I've had her thighs around my ears so many times I could draw a picture of her perfect pussy from memory.

  Suddenly there's a helluva racket coming from the stairway. It sounds like somebody's dropping boulders from the second floor. Tim lands on his feet in the foyer, throwing out his arms like he just completed a gymnastics routine. Immediately after, Tom shoves him from behind, nearly pushing him off balance.

  Vanessa rolls her eyes, grinning.

  “You guys are going to kill each other one day,” she scolds them.

  “Not today, apparently,” Tom quips, kissing her lips and chucking her gently on the chin.

  “I'll try again later,” Tim replies as he sweeps in for a kiss of his own. She rubs his cheeks, smooshing his face playfully.

  “Don't do anything to damage this perfect face, okay? I like it how it is.”

  “I told you she likes me better!” Tim crows. He walks over to the sofa and jumps over it, landing on the cushions with a smug grin.

  “So what are we doing?” Hank asks, walking toward Charlie. Charlie closes his laptop slowly, trying not to look like he's rushing it.

  “Just business,” Charlie mumbles.

  “Do you guys want some coffee or something?” I ask.

  Vanessa glances at Hank. She presses her lips together and takes a deep breath.

  “Actually, I was hoping to talk to all of you,” she announces in a raised voice.

  I wince automatically. Here it comes. I know it.

  “Guys!” I shout out. Tim and Tom are trying to wrestle each other to the floor. “Pay attention, would you?”

  She waits patiently, bouncing up and down her toes. The V-neck of her pink dress scoops low and her boobs are straining against the fabric, billowing over the top. It's a gorgeous look for her.

  “So, I have some news…”

  My stomach is in knots. What is she going to say? My mind races over the possibilities. We could drive her back to college. We could drive her to her grandma's house. Oh wait, she's got her own car. I guess she could just leave whenever she wants.

  “So… looks like I'm pregnant.”

  The room goes silent. I think we’re all holding our breath.

  She looks at each of us, her brow furrowing.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  I clear my throat. “Um, no. Can you repeat that?”

  She puts her fists on her hip and raises her eyebrows.

  “Pregnant.”

  “Are you sure?” Tim coughs. “Is it… for real? For sure?”

  Hank nods, grinning broadly. “We went and got a pregnancy test and everything. Two bright blue stripes, guys! We done knocked this girl up!”

  I hear the legs of my chair scraping on the floor and realize I'm standing up. Like sleepwalking, I stumble over to her, my hands out front of me. I slide my palms across her belly, trying to feel the energy inside her.

  “You can't feel it just yet, silly,” she chuckles sweetly. “It's just a tiny little thing right now. Just like a little bean.”

  “Oh, man. Oh, wow.”

  “Like, we did this?” Charlie asks incredulously. “We're having a baby?”

  My mind starts to spin. As I look up at her, I realize I'm kneeling in front of her. She's lit from behind and glows all around, a halo of light illuminating her features. Her fingers stroke my hair as I hold onto her wide, fertile hips.

  I've wanted this so much, I can't even express it. Now I feel like I'm being shot out of a cannon, into the future. There's so much to think about. Where we will live, what will we do, how will we take care of her, not to mention names and bedtime stories and clothes and…

  And a whole future, rushing on ahead of us, charging toward the horizon.

  “You're happy?” I whisper up at her. “Please tell me you're happy.”

  She nods tightly. “I'm so happy,” she whispers back.

  Chapter 21

  Vanessa

  It's probably too late to do anything about it now, but I'm still determined to get these weeds cleaned up. I stare at the smallish patch of garden at the front of the cabin, hands on my hips, as if daring them to fight back.

  Stan said that this was the first building that his ancestors built. Though I'm grateful for the indoor plumbing, I still sort of see the bones of the life that they must have led. I'm looking out the same windows, lighting a fire in the same hearth at night. I'm putting my clothes in the same cedar lined closet. There is a certain continuity here, a thread that connects me all the way back to when his people first came to the United States. I like that.

  I briefly thought about going to live with my grandmother, as my dad had suggested. But the fact is, I barely know that woman. I've always traveled around with my parents, and I feel very close to them. Not grounded, like people who have lived continuously in an orchard for century, but connected anyway. Connected in our own way. I know what kind of people we are, and I value that familiarity.

  But my grandmother… she's a mystery. I could no more find myself at home with her than any other stranger. No more than living in the dorms with my roommate. No more than anybody else that I could pick up.

  With a pitchfork, I start moving tangles of long grasses to one side. There are years of half-decomposed vegetation in here. Actually, I suppose would make a pretty good garden again with all this co
mpost enriching the soil. But no one has worked it for a long time. I guess the guys have been in the big house for a very long time, or so I assume.

  But the work feels good. Between the pointed shovel and the hoe and the pitchfork, I manage to dig out hundred square feet of black, fertile soil and make a giant pile of weeds that we could probably put at the end of the orchard with everything else. It feels like progress.

  A flock of birds rise from the shrubbery, and I see it moving. I half expect to see a deer or two traipse out onto the lawn, but to my surprise it's Margie. She waves her hand as she trudges across the lawn, holding her sweater closed over her bosom. Her hair is curly and sticking out all over the place. She's wearing a pair of great bright green rubber boots with her jeans tucked in.

  “Little late in the season for gardening, isn't it?” she asks with a smile when she comes closer.

  “Oh, it's just something I meant to do earlier,” I explain. “I know it's pointless, but still felt like I needed to take a stab at it, you know?”

  “Gardening's good for the soul,” she says sagely. “Looks like you made a lot of progress here.”

  I smile, totally pleased with myself.

  “I guess I could throw down some seeds,” I muse. “What comes up early? Peas? Something like that?”

  “Oh, sure,” she nods, looking around. “Sweet peas… spinach, lettuce. You could get all those things in the ground now if you wanted to. If it doesn't work out, just sow them again next spring. If you're here that long, I mean.”

  I shrug. “Yeah… I guess planting things is kind of pointless, since we’re leaving.

  “You never know,” she says kindly. “There might be a whole bunch of new people here who really like sweet peas. Be like leaving them a present!”

  “Well, that's a nice way of looking at it,” I agree.

  “I’ve got a seed bank,” she says. “You want to come take a look? Maybe you’ll find a few things you like that you could just toss around.”