The Emma Blackwell story

CHAPTER 1

Kate Scott, a curvy brunette and associate editor of the Evening Herald and judge of the newspaper's story competition, smiled when she read the covering note attached to the thick manuscript.

My name is Harry Blackwell. I submit this story as my entry in the Evening Herald's Annual Best Story Competition. I don't believe I have much chance of winning the $100 prize and have to admit my entry is many times over the 800-word limit but there you are. All I can tell you in this covering letter it's a story that needs to be told because it happened during my youth and the principal character was my late mother, Emma Blackwell.

Kate came from the village of Peakville, twenty miles east of the city, and knew Harry Blackwell as did everyone in the village and for miles around.

Harry had been confined to a wheelchair since he was seventeen in a bout of foolishness when drunk, he fell off the head and shoulders of the statue of Silas Peak in the village square. Harry landed on a very solid wheelbarrow at the base of the statue that had been used in Peak Coal Mine a century ago. He suffered spinal and severe pelvic injuries and never walked again.

When Harry came home from hospital his parents encouraged him to live as normal life as possible and he enrolled at an agriculture college and gained a degree in farming practice. The then editor of the Evening Herald, acting solicitously, agreed to Harry becoming agricultural for the eastern sector of its circulation area. Harry excelled and when the newspaper's farming editor retired, Harry was appointed to the position. He'd retired four years ago, aged forty, and became Radio Rural's 'Farming Notes' broadcaster for two hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings and his 'Gardening Notes' hour on regional television on Sunday mornings had a huge following and the show was syndicated to other TV stations.

Kate knew Harry was a very likeable guy. Over the years several caregivers had lived with him and her widowed mother Helen was currently Harry's live-in housekeeper. Rumor was he was sensation in delivering cunnilingus. Kate wasn't sure that her mom was into that at her age.

Sighing although hardened by the work of her judgmental career, Kate tossed the manuscript aside because the entry failed to keep within the 800-word limit. When going home that evening she pulled the manuscript from the pile marked 'return to sender' and took it home to read. Her engineer husband Noel, whom Kate suspected had a girlfriend he's so far had managed to keep secret, was away on a consultancy project and so she had plenty of reading time as their two young adult children had long left the nest.

Kate knew a deep secret, that she was Harry Blackwell's half-sister and believed even Harry didn't know that truth.

She read for hours, hugely fascinated to learn about her real mother and finally fell asleep sometime in the small hours, having wept at times because she'd not been allowed by her foster mother to even talk to the fascinating Emma Blackwell.

Until Helen confessed, Kate hadn't known Helen was not her real mother and that when she was a child she was unaware Emma was simply enquiring about young Kate because she always took an interest in her eight illegitimate children that had been 'adopted out' to overcome legalities

In reading the manuscript, Kate had learned far more that what her mom Helen had confessed to her when Kate turned twenty, that Emma Blackwell had been Kate's genetic surrogate mother.

Kate finished reading Emma's story next evening and was left emotionally devastated.

Emma had died only a year ago. Why had she not contacted Emma? Just because her legal mother made her promise not to was no excuse.

Kate wept, unable to accept she'd been so weak. She'd always loved her mother Helen but now she realized she should have also loved Emma for making her birth possible. Kate thought of seeking counseling but gritted and scolded herself, "Don't be such a wet. Go to Harry and ask is it all right that you love the memory of his mother because she was also your mother."

Feeling a little better about it, Kate decided she must keep this secret intact from everyone but Harry.

Then she thought why hide it? She was proud of Emma Blackwell. She should tell her husband Noel and then Jenny and David. Oh that would really place her in the thick of things.

So what?

Yes so what?

Then another thing hit Kate. Harry knew then names of his eight half-siblings. Although it was clear the names being used were not the real names of the couples and babies, Harry knew so much, enough to write a book? Yes Harry did that because he knew everything. That meant Harry knew she was one of the eight, that he was the only legitimate child of Emma Blackwell!

God what a mess.

Kate felt quite sick but went to work just before 8:30 am as normal and after the editorial conference, wrote the day's editorial about community litter being a sign of poor civic management and untidy people who were the thoughtless or willful members of a consumer society. How fucking banal, Kate fumed, as she collected her thoughts about litter to add to the editor's waffling comments and other options tossed around by other senior editorial staff who gave the impression they would never litter the landscape.

Kate knew she'd much prefer writing a tribute to the great and loveable Emma Blackwell.

She banged out the editorial and emailed it to editor Guy Watson so came in grinning and said, "What's got into you today Kate, all the fire and brimstone about people engaged in littering."

"Then edit it. You usually do."

"No it's about time that bastards received a good tongue lashing," Guy said, picking up a piece of screwed up paper off the floor.

"Guy are you going out to lunch today?"

"No I have Peggy bring in something for me."

"Then order me a chicken sandwich a cappuccino. I'd like to spend time with you and give you something to read."

"My wife forbids me to read porn."

"Guy!"

"Oh sorry, yes come through at 1:00."

Munching a thick bacon and egg sandwich, the florid-faced 51-year old Guy Watson began reading.

"So Harry has written an excessively long obituary about his mother?"

"It's more like a memorial essay."

Good-natured Guy eyed her, brushing around crumbs to litter the carpet.

"But it was good enough for you to read right through."

"Yes." Kate confirmed uncomfortably, knowing Harry had been acknowledged as the best investigative reporter in the newspaper's 162-year history before he was appointed its current editor. She braced herself.

"So you know Harry, as we all do, but you read on looking for something you've always wanted to know?"

Kate couldn't believe it. She'd doubted the dubious claim that Guy was the newspaper's best investigative reporter ever and knew he had an acutely active mind but that question had virtually floored her.

"Read the preamble and Chapter 2," she choked, and ignored Guy's fucking know-all grin. The editor read the preface and then said, "Chapter two eh? Pour two glasses of wine and start on yours darling. You look as if you need it."

* * *

Accompanied by her best friend Nellie Stott, heavily pregnant Emma Blackwell waddled in late for Sunday morning's church service. The central core was packed because the side pews were closed off while the stone exterior walls were being strengthened from inside the church in compliance with new codes for public buildings.

Stopping reading, Guy said, "My pick is Nellie Stott will be your mom Helen Scott. Nellie is a derivative of Eleanor and Helen."

Kate cringed and gulped her wine and was told to pour herself more.

Craning her neck, the taller Nellie said there were two spare seats in the front row.

"Let's take them."

"But everyone will see that you are pregnant and know that your husband died just on a year ago."

"So and who cares? I was born to be continuously pregnant."

"Rubbish."

Emma said, "Be lovely to me darling. This little one shortly due is for you."

They walked down the aisle, Emma swaying proudly and Nellie trying her best to blend into the background as the minister and congregation began singing the first hymn. Nellie needn't have bothered to worry because all eyes were on Widow Blackwell as people attempted to guess who the father was and some females looking sideways at the males around them, including their own man.

Meanwhile at Emma's home, her mother was watching the three-year old Harry pedaling his trike up and down the flat garden path. She was thinking she should be praying for her daughter's forgiveness for being such a slut but couldn't because Emma had been such a heroine in agreeing to allow infertile Nellie's husband to impregnate her and Emma had agreed to hand over the newly born to Nellie and her husband for adoption.

During the boring church sermon, Emma thought happily about the efforts to get Thomas to impregnate her. Thomas would scarcely push his thin long and very white penis into her before he would ejaculate. She'd told him he'd need to hold off and to get her excited through foreplay and then to bang her for quite some time before pumping her with semen.

Emma finally achieved success after delaying Thomas' almost instant ejaculation by strapping an icepack around his testicles with an indentation she'd made to accommodate the balls. During intercourse, when she began to heat up, she's undo the quick-release strap on Thomas' back and his urge to ejaculate began to match her desire to climax through the heat of their bodies warming his balls and signally his brain into believing the time had come from Thomas to fire semen deep into Emma.

Two months and about forty copulations later Emma ended Thomas' visits thinking it was no use. Nellie reluctantly agreed and accepted the ice ball-bag with instructions on how it should be used to prolong her own bouts of sex with her husband.

"Every young woman expects to be banged for at least two hours ever session," Emma smiled.

Nellie was surprised to learn that. Her mom had told her ten minutes from the time of insertion was the norm for most males although some lied they could go all night.

And then, twenty days after last being penetrated by Thomas, Emma was more than sure she'd missed her period.

Emma invited Nellie and Thomas around for dinner than night and there was great joy when the couple learned from Emma there had been 'a lucky strike'."

Turning a page, Guy chortled, "A lucky strike? God what a mess."

"You've read far enough Guy. Let's talk."

"Okay but let's get the paper out first."

* * *

Watching Guy open a bottle of wine at 5:30, Kate knew she had to talk to someone and Guy was her best bet. God it could be so humiliating but deep down she knew Guy would come through for her and act as a wise counselor.

"Well what do you think about this mess?"

As managing-editor, Guy was more than Kate's employer. They had both been reporters on the newspaper, he was ten years her senior, and they had worked their way up. Although Kate had been a brilliant news editor, Guy had promoted to her current position because he needed a deputy he could trust to perform impeccably in his absence. They usually only kissed when drunk and in private and a couple of times she'd bared her breasts to him but that was a far as he got with her. But well he was married. She was tough and he knew he could speak the truth.

"Well I think that baby soon to be born in Chapter 2 was you."

Kate looked at him almost in relief and said she thought he'd be on to it.

Guy said, "What I can't understand is why you have revealed this to me. You could have returned the submission to Harry and said rejected due to excessive length and that would have ended it."

"I feel guilty because I knew Emma Blackwell was my genetic mother and never acknowledged that before she died."

"Oh Christ," Guy said, and rose and kissed her and Kate clung to him and wept.

He waited patiently.

"Thanks," Kate said. "I'm better now; I feel I've achieved a great emotional release."

Guy sat back on their shared sofa and sipped his wine and asked, "What do you think?"

"This is pure speculation."

"I know."

Kate said, "I think this is a cry of help from Harry Blackwell. As you well know, he's not stupid. I think although he had high regard for his mother, he knows we are now into the third generation of his mother's surrogate children and that his mother's secret of bearing children for infertile couples ought to be widely known so that youngsters intending to marry should have blood tests to ensure relatives are not marrying one another unknowingly."

"Or possibly illegally and that's my thinking as well although damage might already have been done, albeit on a pretty minor scale. People who remained in your village and married locals are particularly vulnerable I'd say although the problem would be far from unique."

Kate sighed and said that was something of a relief to hear him say that.

"Does Harry know you're his half-sister?"

Kate swallowed and said, "I don't think so."

"But you can't be sure?"

"No."

"Then Kate I suggest you first talk to Harry and then I'd like to sit down with you both and talk this through."

"Thank you. Your support is welcomed."

Guy looked at Kate and realized she was vulnerable and knew her husband was away.

"Do you want to sit on my knee and be hugged?"

"Yes," said vulnerable Kate, and slid over to sit on his knee.

Kate jammed her tongue into Guy's mouth and they were away, Guy having said everyone else had gone and they would be undisturbed because it would be another hour or so before the cleaners would arrive on that floor.

"I'm vulnerable right now."

Guy leered and said he knew and that's why he would fuck her to fulfill a desire that went right back to the beginning of their association and to make her feel wanted and admired.

"Then why didn't you pressure me for it long before this?" groaned Kate, feeling his hidden erection. "Get this out for me."

"Fish it out yourself," he teased and at the same time fish out a tit for me."

She spat: "Go to hell."

That rather shook Guy's confidence. "Oh Kate I'm sorry, I was only teasing. It's best that I get it out anyway."

They separated while he unbuckled his pants.

Kate pulled her dress up over her hips and unzipped the back and pulled the top down to her waist. She undid her bra and then slid her panties off and finished all of that while Guy, who was slower and a little over-weight, was kicking off his lowered pants and briefs.

"Oooh Guy, that's a sizeable piece you have there. For some reason I always thought you would be well-stacked."

Guy looked at the slightly drooping breasts and said, "For some reason I had the same thought about you."

He sat and leaned back and Kate took the hint and dropped to her knees on the floor. She picked up his erection, wondering if it had been used adulterously before this, and began licking it up and down before feeding some of it into her mouth after playing with the tip with her tongue. She then used a hand to jerk him while sucking.

A girl doesn't expect a guy to praise her early into fellatio unless encouragement is considered necessary but Guy's soft groans indicated he was the beneficiary of a woman who'd sucked sufficient dick in her time to become proficient at it.

Kate intended to back off when she'd worked Guy almost to the threshold but too late... he grunted just the once, tensed and warm and slightly salty semen creamed over Kate's tongue. She pulled away a little disgruntled and while Guy once again threw back his head and closed his eyes, she spat the load down on to her breasts before the next burst arrived.

"That was great, truly great," he panted and looking at her swollen breasts appeared surprised to see two flows of his semen down one of them. "I was expecting you to back off before triggering me, knowing I was an older guy."

"Well we never completely know what to expect from sex, even when we get older," Kate said philosophically and that drew a big smile from him. "Is that it or can you go again?"

Guy looked offended and said, "Christ Kate, I'm only fifty-one and in quite good shape."

Well she hoped he wasn't lying about being able to come again. She thought he was lying about being in quite good shape because as far as she knew the only exercise he did was to walk to and from his car... oh yes, and not doubt he engaged in some home sex.

They both watched as Guy fed his thick cock into her and Kate confirmed it was indeed a good fit.

"I feel very full," she said and that was true. He began plowing her in missionary and that was a little disappointing.

It was a slow grind, an apt term and Kate could see he was becoming red-faced and tiring. She squeezed on his thrusting dick and that made no difference to his pace or his expression and she bit his ear and that only produced a cry of ouch. Finally she intervened.

"Roll on to your back," she commanded and had to smile when he panted and said was she tiring. Well yes, tiring of going nowhere but that was something you didn't say to a guy in this situation.

She sat in reverse cowgirl and fed his dick back in and leant right back, taking some of her weight on her hands.

"Oh I mightn't be long enough in my erection for this."

Kate frowned and thought if he believed his dick could do anything, he'd not be saying that.

"Keep thinking dirty to ensure it stays hard and concentrate on keeping my butt and your groin as close as possible and I'll have you off in no time."

He didn't reply and she sighed thinking that meant he was avoiding a negative reply.

"Wet your little finger and slide it into my butt."

"What?" he said, sounding shocked.

Oh fuck, she moaned to herself. She was supposedly fucking a red-blooded editor, not a pious church elder.

She tightened around him and they settled into a rhythm of sorts and then she felt a wet and not so small finger pressing into her butt. That worked and presumably he felt his dick through the thin membrane sliding in and out (well almost out) of her cunt and he was muttering in awe, 'Oh fuck me."

"Okay then let's do it," she panted and squeezed around his cock as hard as she could.

"Come on asshole," she yelled. "Full my cunt with your juice."

"Oh Kate, oh Kate, here it comes."

She balanced on one hand, twisted and reached over her sweaty thigh and cupped his balls and squeezed lightly.

"Oh shit, oh fuck oh mamma."

Oh mamma? Kate wondered what that was about and pulling back her hand for balance, gave him two more downward thrusts as he was coming and groaned into a rather good release herself.

She rolled off and sat up panting and to her surprise felt she'd been well fucked.

"God Kate, you are fucking amazing," he enthused, looking down at his already limp dick. "Do you take it up the butt?"

"Don't be so foul," she said haughtily.

"Sorry."

Then he said belatedly that he hadn't been wearing protection.

"I know but I trust you Guy," she said, picking up her panties to deal with seepage.

"Christ that was my biggest ejaculation in years," he said proudly. "Perhaps some positions are better than missionary. I'll get some tissues."

* * *

Kate sighed. Through the window of the café she watched her mother park in the area marked, 'Disabled Person's Parking' and watched her mom get out and open the rear doors of the van and pull out the aluminum ramp and Harry rolled out on his motorized electric wheelchair.

Her mom, Harry's housekeeper and minder, had performed her role so efficiently, noted Kate, feeling proud of Helen, who was sixty-two, and watched her fold up the ramp against the doors of the van and secure it. She then spoke briefly to Harry, hugged him and then walked off, probably to the library. Kate had booked lunch for three but was glad her mom had decided to give Harry and Kate privacy, as if she knew what this was about. The fact was Kate had not yet told her about Harry's riveting manuscript. She'd decided first things first, and top of the agenda was to talk to Harry first.