Twenty-Some Years Ago

*snort* "Boy, that's good coke!" said the man, as he cleared his nose in an upscale Berkeley, California bathroom. The crowd seemed to agree.

"Pass me some!" yelled the woman with bright pink hair.

"What!"

"I said, pass me some coke!"

"For a kiss," He whispered in her ear.

"Don't get fresh," she said, with a sly look. He did not listen.

Twelve hours later, they both woke up from a long night after a long rave, the woman's pink wig lay down on the floor next to her soiled (but good soiled) panties and the man's underpants. He traced the curves of her naked body.

"What'd you say your name was again, darling?" the man asked, in a fake Southern accent.

"I didn't," she said, coyly, stretching as he subtly massaged her large breasts. "What's yours?"

"Well," he said, jumping up and grabbing his pants. "You can call me John."

"Really?" she said, in doubt.

"Nah, but you gave me such a good time, I'll leave you a little cash to get home. Like any good john would."

She feigned shock, "I'm not a prostitute."

"That's too bad, darling. You'd make a killing on the streets." And with that, he left, forgetting his wallet.

"Daddy, I don't know! I only slept with one man, and it was a mistake," the girl said, lying about her frequent college parties.

Arnold Smith was frustrated, as his wife Helena was more sympathetic. But still, she followed her husband's lead. "I'm running for re-election. It won't look good. We have to get rid of it." He had a grim face.

"No... no..." she felt her stomach. "I can take care of it. Her. I can take care of her." She didn't know the gender of the unborn child yet, but hoped for a girl. She even had a name picked out, after her favorite supermodel.

"You can't be a CPA and a teenage mother, Karen. Pick one. And if you're going to have that kid, get a husband. In the meantime, you can't stay here."

Karen had spent several weeks at her older sister Sophia's house in Los Angeles, but things were not going well. Sophia's first husband had died in Kosovo, and she was raising their little infant daughter, Laura, by herself. At night, Karen looked at the wallet left behind and the name on the driver's license, "Francis J. Doe". Was it a fake? He was older than her by a number of years, something she did not realize that night. He wasn't a student at Berkeley, just some guy hanging out at the party, doing X and snorting coke.

"You wants me to find this losah?" said the PI in his Boston accent. No one living in LA was from LA, it seemed.

"Yes," said Karen. "But I don't have a lot of money," she continued, sitting down because the pressure on her back at seven months pregnant made it hard to stand for too long.

The PI nodded his head as he looked up and down Karen's body. She felt uneasy, but couldn't leave until the business was finished. "The address is fake. It's an old church in Santa Barbara."

He nodded and walked behind her, beginning to rub her shoulders. "I have a friend who likes picshas. Maybe we can have an arrangement."

Karen gulped, "Okay."

"What is this?!" Arnold threw down the magazine on the car hood outside of Sophia's Army-provided housing. Karen was crying, as she saw the nudes on Pregnant Cuties magazine. She made the cover.

"I had to, Daddy. I needed cash to look him up."

"That guy, again? He's a loser. He's gone. But this? My own daughter on some fetish magazine? I'm the laughingstock of the State Senate, now. Forget re-election. I can't get on a fucking Library Board. I might as well call it quits and retire to Florida. This. This ruined me. And from my favorite girl." Arnold wiped away his own tear, as he turned back into the car and told his driver to take him away. Waddling back into the house, Karen sobbed into the cushion of her sister's sofa. The waterworks on the top of the sofa was soon joined by waterworks on the floor, as Baby Cindy attempted to enter the frame.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God." Karen was in ecstasy as she was being jackhammered by her new boyfriend, Roger. She had an apartment, was going back to school, and was raising little Cindy by herself. Apparently, unwed mothers can get preferential treatment for scholarships at UC Berkeley. Who knew.

Roger smiled as he slipped out of her pussy, and aimed for the brown hole. "Are you sure about this?"

"Go for it!" she smiled, before a wince as he pushed in. "Fuck!" she yelled, in pain or pleasure undetermined, as he pushed in for some anal. "You say you never done this before?" he questioned.

"Never," she lied.

As they were both about to cum, a baby's cry interrupted. "Fuck!" she yelled again, hearing Cindy, as Karen gently helped Roger exit her, and jumped up to the crib. She began nursing her little girl as she turned to face her exhausted lover. He just smiled and began to jack off on the bed. "What the fuck?" she said, confused.

"I'm just enjoying my lover's natural beauty." He smiled, as he kept the cadence. Before the cadence of the doorbell stopped this action. "I'll get it!" he smiled as he jumped up and out of bed.

"No, don't!" rushed Karen to stop him, to no avail, embarrassed by her boyfriend's nude state. He looked through the peephole and smiled, as he opened the door full wide.

"Hi Sophie!" he said, to Karen's sister. She guffawed and jumped in, closing the door behind her. She hit him with her purse.

"What's that on your dick?" she said, sardonically.

"True love."

"Sophie!" came Karen's reply. She handed the now-sleeping baby to Roger, who expertly held it. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you about something," she said, trying to get Roger to leave. "But speaking of fucking... you two are at it every time I come over. You'd think he was a three-hourer."

"He's not," said Karen, rolling her eyes.

"More of a five-and-a-half hourer," joked Roger, speaking softly over the baby. "Do you care to join us again?" He smiled widely.

Sophia's mouth widened, before Karen interjected, "That was a one-time thing, Soph. It was Roger's birthday."

"I hate to break it to you girls. I have a birthday every year."

"Shut up."

"You two have birthdays too."

Things were going great. Roger was head-over-heels in love. Little Cindy was mostly quiet and perfect. Karen was on her way to graduation, thanks to some money given by her mother when she moved away, and a little money made on the side.

Karen sat in the backroom, clad only in a pink robe. She looked at the paintings on the wall, smiling when she recognized the likenesses. The burly instructor entered.

"I'm sorry, your partner is late. He said he's on his way, but that was a half hour ago." He was sweating and nervous.

"That's okay," replied Karen, with a cheerful tone. More motherly, now. More friendly. "I can do another solo. Give your class some different poses."

"No, we're supposed to be studying embraces. Two figures locked together and the dichotomy and physicality of that."

"Well, maybe we can call my sister in..." the door slammed open as Karen turned to face the figure that would be her partner for today.

It was him.

It was Francis J. Doe.

He was quickly disrobing, as Karen felt dizzy. Should she say something? Did he recognize her?

"Hey there, darling," he said, walking up to Karen while now fully nude. "Let me help you with that robe."

The robe was down past her shoulders as Karen's breasts were on full display before the instructor jumped in. "Hey Frank, what'd I tell you about feeling up the other models?"

Karen waved him off. "It's okay. Give us a moment, Jonah. I need to talk with... Frank.

Jonah nodded, saying "Five minutes". He did have a class to teach.

The robe slipped down, as Frank admired her nude body.

"Do you remember me?" asked Karen, ignoring his lecherousness.

"Of course, I do darling. How can I forget a smile like that? And those dimples?"

She smiled at the acknowledgement, despite the fact that, deep down, she knew he had no clue who she was.

They spent the rest of the morning in front of 30 students, locked in an embrace, staring in each other's eyes, as she fell in love again. And then the rest of the afternoon talking, enjoying each other's company, sharing intimate details and life stories. Karen was too afraid to mention their daughter, scared he might leave for good.

The evening came, and they had dinner. Night came, and they fucked.

Karen's cell phone rang and she flipped it open, frowning when she felt the dried cum between her legs, the reminder of her infidelity.

"I just wanted to know when you're coming home, honey?" Roger asked, spending the night taking care of her child.

"Soon," she lied, "I just met an old friend and we lost track of time at the bar."

He hung up and she looked at the resting body of Frank Doe. Why was she so attracted to this man? Why had she cheated on her fiancé? She shrugged it off and placed the phone on the hotel nightstand. She felt shame, but not enough to hide her passion.

"You're cheating on me!"

"I'm sorry, we just fell in love," admitted Roger, hand-in-hand with Sophia.

"We didn't want it to happen like this, Karen. You keep having those late nights, and someone has to watch over Cindy. Cindy and Laura have lovely playdates. It's a match made in heaven," she looked over at Roger with puppy dog eyes.

"I think I'm going to be sick!" Karen felt like vomiting at the display in front of her. In fact, that's what she did, into a nearby wastebasket.

"You may now kiss the bride," said the elderly Reverend Davis, in a private ceremony with only Frank's family in attendance. Her family had all-but-cut ties with her. Frank laughed as he moved around her expanding baby bump to passionately make out with his bride-at-last.

"Let's save some for the honeymoon," he whispered, as he pinched her ass in front of his family. She bit her lip and smiled. Two-year-old Cindy was playing with the flowers, lifting them up and down, with cousins who joined in as everyone rejoiced.

"Til **** Do Us Part," repeated Karen at the reception.

"For better or worse," said Frank, snagging another piece of cake.

"For richer or poorer," replied Karen. Frank frowned at the thought.

"How could you?" Karen was upset. So upset, she had a baseball bat.

"Now calm down, darling. It's not what you think..." Frank was worried, for once, for his life.

"10! You have 10 kids?!"

"I slept with a lot of co-eds back in the day. Before I met you." Frank held his arms high, trying to coax the bat down.

"You're still sleeping with them. Baby 10 was born last week. I have the books."

Karen had been handling Frank's finances since she graduated college three years ago, in preparation for her certification, but there was always something fishy. He was swapping money around. Hiding the trail. Moving and moving and refinancing. And she found out why. He had another family he took care of. And another one. And another.

"I take care of my children, darling. The ones who let me know I have 'em." He looked at her in veiled anger.

"I had my PI investigate you. You're still sleeping around. And that's fine. Boys will be boys," she seethed, "But you're embezzling some of that money. Half of that is mine."

"We have a joint account, Mrs. Doe."

She swung the bat, and he backed off. "And then there's my father's money. The PI said you got access to his ATM card."

"The same PI who got into your pants, darling?"

She swung harder. "Don't you dare bring that up?"

"I'm just saying. It takes two to tango. And I haven't tangoed nearly as much as you have."

Little Johnny walked into the room as his mother swung the bat at Frank, knocking him in the face and knocking out a tooth. Johnny picked it up and studied it, not catching the rest of the conversation:

"Oh God, Frank, I'm so sorry!" Karen dropped the bat, not knowing what came over her.

"You were wrong, darling," said Frank, looking at the blood on his hands after wiping his face. "I don't have ten kids. I have eight." He walked out the door, supposedly for the final time.

Fifteen years later

"Is that Cindy? Boy has she grown!" He reached a hand over his pants to cup his penis, thinking of the things he could do to the little girl he raised who was the spitting image of his ex-wife.

He nodded at his own father, fucking his own daughter. "Save me a spot, pops!"

But before he could make further comment, I rushed over, grabbing my dad by the collar. "What the fuck are you doing here, Frank?"

He wiped my hands away, "Are you going to hit me with that tree trunk, Johnny Boy? It's not Arnold-size," he said, winking in the direction of his former father-in-law, "But it's still a respectable length. Definitely can cause some damage. Inside and out." He laughed at his own joke.

"Answer the question."

"I go where I'm needed, little man. And it ain't quite a Doe Family Reunion without its patriarch, now is it?"