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From: "DrSpin "
Subject: {ASSM} New: The Gravid Contract (MF cheat impreg)
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Date: Thu, 18 Nov 1999 06:10:00 -0500
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The Gravid Contract (MF cheat impreg)
By DrSpin
EPISODE 1:
She sat on the front edge of the deep chair, perched with knees pressed firmly
together because she was wearing such a short skirt, hands folded contritely in
her lap. She had completed her confession and she looked across the room at me
earnestly. I pursed my mouth, puffed out my cheeks and blew a long and loud
sigh. "So that's that," I said wistfully. "She's gone."
I looked at her absently, at her prim posture and the way her hair fell straight
and just failed to reach her shoulders. "Past all hope?" I asked.
She shrugged awkwardly and her hair bounced. "It's at the bottom of the harbour.
The police said it was 20 metres down."
"The hand brake failed, you think?"
"It just rolled down the hill and hit the wharf and went over."
"So that's that, then. She's definitely gone."
"I'm so sorry."
I rubbed at the bristle on my chin. "She wasn't insured. It's not economic to
insure old cars."
"Oh hell," she said. "I thought a beautiful sports car like that, you know, I
thought it would be heavily insured."
"The premiums are huge. It's not worth it and besides, it's what you do to the
car yourself that makes it valuable."
"How valuable was it?"
"I might have got $18,000 for her if I'd put her on the market. Maybe."
"Oh God," she said. "Look, I don't have anything."
"I know."
"Money, I mean."
"I know. You told me, remember? That's why you borrowed my car."
"Matt will kill me."
"Then don't tell him."
"But what about your car?"
"She's gone and that's that. She wasn't insured and you've got no money. What's
there to do about it?"
"I could pay you back little by little."
I waved my hand dismissively at her. "You can't afford it. You told me,
remember? Matt's been forced to take a pay cut to keep his job, you can't earn
any more than you do and the rise in interest rates means you're in over your
head on your mortgage. You're battling to keep the wolf from the door."
"That's true," she said, her voice cracking.
"And apart from that, you've been trying to have a baby and you're not getting
pregnant and you've had your tests and you're fine and Matt won't and maybe he
has a low sperm count or something."
"Did I tell you all that?"
"Mostly. I guessed the rest. Look, you and Matt are too young to have taken on
such commitments. Why don't young people save and show some patience these days?
Why do you want it all immediately?"
"We thought we could afford it."
"It's lucky you're not pregnant. How can you afford a baby?"
"I guess we can't."
I sighed loudly again. "I guess I'll have to help you out," I said, surprising
myself. I hadn't made such a decision. I'd made no decision at all.
"But I've just dumped your beautiful car in the harbour."
"I have another car. I'll make you a loan. Say $10,000. You can pay me back when
you get on top of things."
"Oh," she said. "$10,000 plus $18,000 makes $28,000. We could never pay that
back."
"Forget the car. In five years your situation will be different. You'll be able
to start paying me back the $10,000 then."
"Gosh, I don't know what to say. I mean, how neighbourly can you get? I ought to
find some way to pay you back. Maybe I could work it off somehow?"
"I already have a cleaning lady and I don't need a housekeeper."
"I am an accountant, you know."
"I'm very happy with my current accountant."
"Well, there must be something I can do." I could tell by her face she would
have liked to snatch back the words before they reached me. But it was too late
and already the room had taken on different shades and patterns.
A silence developed, lengthened and deepened. "Look," she said eventually, "I
didn't mean what you might think I might have meant."
"I know."
"I'm happily married."
"Really? You want a baby and you're not getting one."
"It might be my fault."
"It's not. You know it's not."
"No," she said. "It's not."
"I'll do you a deal," I said. "I forget the car, I give you $10,000 as a gift
and, as well, I give you a baby. How does that strike you?"
She had a blank look on her face. "Give me a baby?" She heard the words but they
didn't mean anything.
"It means I get you pregnant."
"I get pregnant?" She sounded confused.
"You bet. I have fathered two fine children, a girl and a boy. You've seen them.
Don't you agree they look good?"
"Sure."
"And they're intelligent. One is at university and the other will be soon."
She shook her head at me, her hair swinging. She looked like she was trying to
slow down the conversation.
"And I don't look too dissimilar to Matt, when you think about it."
"But you're old," she said, way too bluntly.
"I'm 46. It only seems too old because you're 23. Come on, what do you say?"
"What about Matt?"
"He need never know, just like the car. Think, you won't have to challenge his
masculinity. He'll just assume he's the father and he will be. I won't want any
part of the child and I'll sign any type of document to attest to it."
"This is absurd," she said.
"Unusual, perhaps, but a pretty good deal nonetheless. You get to reject the
guilt about my car, you get $10,000 and you get the good-looking smart baby
you've always wanted."
She sat on the edge of the deep chair and looked at me, motionless, with wide
eyes.
"Don't think of it as sex," I urged her. "Sex is what you have with Matt. You
love Matt. You don't and won't love me and you don't even have to pretend. It
will be just the relatively simple biological process of impregnation, and when
you are pregnant it's all over."
"I don't believe I'm even listening to this," she said softly.
"You're in a jam and it's a way out."
"What do you get out of it?"
I shrugged. "Well, you're quite lovely, of course. But as a roll in the sheets
you're hardly worth $10,000. I guess I must want to help you out. I guess I must
want to father your child."
"How many times?"
"Do we have intercourse, you mean? Well, let's be practical but not clinical. I
don't want to know about calendars and thermometers. That's your lookout. I
suggest we do it every second day until you fall pregnant. On my past track
record it won't take long."
"Every second day?"
"That's my benefit, you see. That's what I'm getting out of it."
"Starting when?"
"Whenever you say."
"All right," she said.
"It's a deal?"
"It's a deal. God, I don't believe it."
"When do we begin? Now?"
"No no," she said hastily. "God, I need time to adjust to this."
"Fine. We'll start when you're ready."
"I need a little time."
"How much time?"
"A day or two."
"Fine."
"God, I don't believe this."
"I'll write you a cheque."
EPISODE 2:
She was getting out of her car backwards. "You've been avoiding me," I said.
She started in surprise and turned to face me. "I haven't."
"Yes you have."
"You're right. I have."
"It's been three days."
"I'm not ovulating yet."
"Let's not get medical. You banked the cheque."
"Yes." She appeared to make up her mind. "I'll be over tonight after Matt goes
to work."
"Dress casual."
"Don't joke," she said. "This is not easy for me."
"Don't take it so personally. At any given moment, approximately 11 million
people on this earth are joined together in the act of sexual intercourse. A
moment later one million will stop but another one million will start. We are
but two more soldiers in a vast global army.
"Gee, that's so romantic. I can hardly wait."
EPISODE 3:
We stood facing each other in my bedroom. She was wearing a longish skirt and a
tee shirt and looked a little odd for it. "Minimal undressing," she said
tersely, reading my eyes. "All you need is access."
I smiled hugely. "Do you think I'm a robot? Some visual stimulation might be
needed to start the engine."
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Naked from waist down," she offered.
"With a body like yours? You're kidding. It all comes off."
She sighed and I realised she was trying me out. She was already resigned to her
fallback position. "No foreplay," she said. "Definitely no stuff like that."
"Not even a little?"
"Foreplay means sex. I didn't come here for sex."
"Funny. I thought you did exactly that."
"No no no. I came here to be impregnated and fertilised. That was the deal. Sex
has nothing to do with it."
"Hmm. Well, whatever works for you, I guess. So we're down to this: You take
your clothes off, I take mine off and we get on the bed and I go straight on in
and work hard until I ejaculate. And then, presumably, you get up and get
dressed and go home. Is that the deal here?"
"That's it. Though you could have put it a little more delicately."
I grimaced. "Sounds a little dry. For you, I mean."
"That's my concern, not yours."
"Maybe even painful."
"Yeah, right. Sure." She was mocking me.
"So it's just the necessary business we're doing here."
"Correct."
"Fine," I said. "Okay, businesswoman, get your gear off and spread 'em."
Her eyes opened wide and narrowed again immediately. Her lips were pressed
tight. She was not liking me one little bit. We stood facing in classic standoff
positions, as though we were about to come to blows. "Fuck you," she said
softly. "This is a bad scene."
"But you banked the cheque."
That was the trigger. Furiously she drew her shirt over her head and tossed it
to the floor. Within seconds she was naked, her garments flung on all sides. She
glared at me for a brief moment and vaulted on the bed, turning over and lying
on her back, legs outstretched and arms stiffly at her side. "Come on, old man,"
she said, genuinely nasty. "Do it." She smiled grimly at me. "If you can, that
is."
I'd been around awhile and I'd done a bit in my time, but this was all new and I
was tremendously turned on. She was lean and mean, trim and grim, body white not
tan, broad nipples red-brown not pink, pubic bush brown not black and clipped
lightly to an orderly shape and density. I moved across to the foot of the bed
and looked down at her as I undressed unhurriedly. I kicked the jeans away from
my feet and faced her, my penis thrusting out like an iron bar. She looked at it
and then back at my eyes. Her mouth twitched. "I tried to caution you," I said,
"but you didn't want to know."
"Seen bigger," she said with terse abbreviation. "Had bigger, too." She opened
her legs and I saw my target. I climbed on to the bed and crawled until I was
poised above her.
"Go straight on in," I said. "That's the arrangement, is it not?"
She held my gaze. "If you can remember how to do it."
I chuckled appreciatively and lowered my body carefully, holding my weight on my
forearms for a moment, and then reached down to guide myself into her. She
shifted slightly to meet me and the head of my penis made contact. She was
silkily smooth, almost greasy. I pushed comfortably into her a little way
without effort. She was, I found, surprisingly ready for me. Our eyes were
locked and her face was expressionless. I pushed in a little further and slowly
a little more. It was getting very tight in there. I said nothing and she said
nothing but I paused, and in a little while, pushed forward again. Gradually I
moved forward, pausing and waiting, until I was completely embedded. I stopped,
leaving a question hanging but saying and showing nothing.
"So I lied," she whispered, her face now close to mine, her eyes still holding
mine. "That's the biggest thing that's ever been there and I need a minute or
so."
I waited patiently, suspended above her and looking into her eyes. The only
parts of my body touching her were my tightly-locked penis and my legs. Her skin
was white-pale and her breasts, rolling out slightly, rose and fell evenly with
her breathing. "My first bloody adultery," she said sombrely. "With a bloody old
man with a bloody big prick." She wriggled and pushed out against me gently and
I responded by pressing the base of my penis up against her, lifting her and
pushing our pubic bones together. She broke eye contact, whipping her head aside
and breathing quickly through her nose in two soft snorts. She looked back at
me, warily. So she was a grinder, I thought. Good, because I knew about
grinders. It was part of my experience.
Slowly, I started moving inside her. Slowly half out, slowly back. Then more,
longer, slowly. Her eyes were expressionless. She was co-operating minimally
with the lower half of her body but leaving me with the work of it. I carried
the thrust slowly home and again lifted and ground into her, pressuring. Now she
opened her mouth and her head lifted from the pillow until I resumed my
rhythmical stroking.
Her intellect continued to fight on. "How long does it usually take you to get
off?" she asked acidly. "I wasn't planning to be here all night."
"Make me," I said. "If you know how, that is."
Her eyes blazed at me and she joined the rhythm with her hips rolling. Slowly
and deliberately, she pulled up her legs and wound them around my waist,
crossing and locking her heels. I rammed home hard and ground vigorously into
her pelvis, shaking her like a cat does a mouse as she clung to me. "Oh shit,"
she said clearly, and when I looked into her eyes she was looking back
indistinctly, her mouth open. She was hunched into me and I ground against her,
our pubic hair twisting and matting, making friction. I withdrew but slammed
back quickly, crushing hard against her again. "Jesus," she muttered. And again:
"Oh shit." All of a sudden she went over the precipice, gripping me tightly with
her legs and throwing her arms wide on the bed. Her head lifted from the pillow,
her eyes were tightly shut and her mouth wide open. I saw her back teeth and the
strained and corded muscles of her neck. Then she fell back wordlessly and her
legs rolled off my back and down beside me. She opened her eyes and looked at me
with dull hostility. "Fuck," she said, but without venom. "That wasn't supposed
to happen."
"You want me to apologise?"
She pushed out with her pelvis, nudging and reminding me. "Not necessary," she
said abruptly. "But I wouldn't mind if you managed to finish this thing in the
next 24 hours." Which I did, because I'd been holding myself back with some
difficulty. I picked up the pace and fucked her vigorously, because I now knew
that was what she liked. In short time my seed gathered and erupted into her. I
softened and withdrew and she immediately swivelled around, lying with her head
at the foot of the bed. She stuck her feet up on the headboard. "I'm holding
your stuff in," she explained.
I was surprised. "You're fertile at the moment? Why didn't you say?"
"I'm not. But this is the way to do it when I am and I want to get into good
habits."
My eyes flicked to her upraised buttocks in front of me and I could the evidence
of my emission in her pubic hair. She saw and snatched up a pillow and thrust it
under her legs. "Such modesty," I said. "At this belated stage."
"It's not exactly a dignified position," she said.
"How long?"
"Ten minutes or so."
"Would you rather be left alone?"
"Please."
I dressed and left her to it. "No wisecracks," she said immediately when she
joined me downstairs later.
But I was feeling very mild about her. The afterglow was pleasant and lingering.
I liked her a lot; her sassiness, her cutting wit and especially her body. She
was, I forecast to myself, going to develop to be a delicious fuck. "Actually, I
was thinking coffee," I said. "Make you one?"
She had a suspicious look in her eyes. "Sure," she said warily. Then suddenly:
"Let's not fight. I can't go through this with somebody I'm fighting with."
"Ditto," I said. "I can't fight afterwards either."
She smiled and tried to hide it by turning away. I knew she knew about the
friction and the sharp jibes and how it had turned us both on. A promising
start, I thought, and maybe she did too. I knew she wasn't going to admit it but
I had to try. "Well," I said. "I guess that wasn't too unpleasant." She said
nothing. She was fiddling with the waistband of her skirt and pretended not to
hear me.
"Thursday night then," I said. "It's on again."
She looked up at me coolly. "That's the deal," she said.
EPISODE 4:
She stuck her feet up on the headboard again. "You want me to leave?" I asked.
"You can stay if you like," she said. She had the pillow tucked discreetly in
position. "It's your bed."
"You have a wonderful figure."
"Thanks."
"It's nice to just lie here and look at it."
"Yeah. Good. Thanks. I'm pleased for you."
"I thought you said you didn't want to fight?"
She sighed. "I don't."
"Not afterwards, anyway."
She looked at me steadily. "No," she agreed. "Not afterwards."
"Not when we've both got off."
"Look, I don't want to fight but I can't help it if you keep provoking me."
"Am I provoking you?"
"I can stop myself, you know. I don't have to 'get off', as you call it. I can
lie here like a dead fish. You want that?"
"No," I said, putting up my hand in a peace gesture. "It's not a challenge; just
an observation."
"It's not enough for you, is it? Getting inside my body isn't enough. You want
to get inside my head as well."
"That's pretty shrewd," I conceded. "I think you may be a bit of a mind meddler
yourself."
"Two strong wills," she said. "You remind me of..." She stopped.
"Your father?" I guessed.
"Well, yes. We were always fighting."
Hmm. I stored that one away for a rainy day.
EPISODE 5:
She was in a bad mood. "Ouch," she said sharply. "You could have shaved. It's
like being in bed with a sheet of sandpaper." I lifted myself a little on my
forearms, avoiding contact with my face, sawing away, pushing and sliding,
looking into her angry eyes. "So when are you going to finish," she snapped. I
slipped an arm under her buttocks and lifted her up, grinding into her pelvis.
"Ah yes," she said, almost sneering. "Tom's trick. You think it works like
magic, do you?"
"Yes."
"Sorry, but it doesn't."
"Yes, it does."
"No, it doesn't. See? Nothing's happening."
"Yes, it is."
"You arrogant bastard. Nothing will happen because I don't want it to happen. So
finish and be done with it."
"Why do you always want to fight with your daddy? Just shut up and fuck him like
a good little girl."
Her eyes blazed and she swung an arm up and cracked me hard on the side of the
head. "Get the fuck off me," she yelled. "Get off right now, you bastard."
But I didn't. I lifted her against me and ground into her savagely. She writhed
furiously, trying to squirm out and away. And then she was writhing against me,
pushing hard with her pelvis, her hands fluttering on my shoulders. "Fuck," she
shouted. "Bastard." Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was twitching in little
spasms. "You bastard." Then she was over it and she opened her eyes, hostile but
wary. "Damn you," she said quietly. "That was dirty."
I was so close myself. "Yes," I agreed, panting and thrusting. "Wasn't it." I
pounded into her and burst myself, and she snaked an arm around my neck and
pulled me close, sandpaper face and all, and accepted me.
Later, her feet up on the headboard, she told me it was likely she was fertile.
"Really?" I asked, interested. "Do you want to go again tomorrow night?"
"Every second night will be sufficient," she said. "This is too damned dangerous
to do every night."
"Dangerous?"
"You know exactly what I mean. Either you're good at this or I am or we both are
together. I don't even know if I like you but things seem to happen."
"You mean good sex. Wait a minute. Correction. You mean strong sex."
"God help me, I'm starting to look forward to it."
"I definitely do."
"I know that. But I'm not supposed to be..." She tailed off, unfinished. "Look,"
she said, "there was nothing between me and my father. Right?"
"Okay."
"No, don't dismiss it so casually. I mean it. Nothing."
"Fine. You never thought about having sex with your father."
"No. We just fought."
"You don't think that was sexual tension?"
She paused, looking at me, considering. "I never thought so," she said. "Who
knows? If I didn't know it, then it wasn't so." She pursed her mouth. "Does that
sound convincing?"
"Not very. But I understand what you're saying. I wasn't accusing you of
anything. It was just a trick to distract you. It worked."
"You bastard."
"It was a big one. It looked like a big one."
"You really are a bastard. The sooner I get pregnant the better."
EPISODE 6:
She didn't get pregnant. She announced her period, disappointed. "You're so
devious you've probably had a vasectomy," she muttered, but not seriously.
"It was the missing nights," I said. "Oh well, I guess I'll have to put up with
it for another month."
"Look at the good side," she said sarcastically. "Tonight you get a holiday."
"It gives me time to build up my sperm count."
"You seem to do all right."
"For a man of my advanced age, you mean."
"You do all right." She wandered around idly, picking things up and examining
them for a moment before putting them back. "You do too much all right. That's
the problem."
"Better than the home brand, you mean?"
She wasn't looking at me and it was deliberate. "I shouldn't be talking like
this," she said. "In a funny sort of way it's more unfaithful than what we've
been doing."
"Ricky, don't worry about it. He's young and he's got things to learn, that's
all."
"Don't call me Ricky," she said automatically.
"Why not? Your father did."
She spun around. "How did you know that?"
"I guessed."
"Anyway, I don't think it's that simple. There's just not the same interactive
chemistry."
"Familiarity breeding contempt, perhaps?"
"I'm not sure." She looked at me, considering. "Maybe it's all about how a man
and a woman fit together individually, you know?" She gestured unambiguously
with her hand. "So how big is that thing of yours anyway?"
"My penis? I don't know."
"I thought all guys measured it."
"Well, I never have. Do you need to know?"
She smiled. "Maybe not."
EPISODE 7:
She came over the next night too. "You're off duty," I said, surprised. "This is
irregular."
"Bored," she explained. "Felt like some company."
"I thought you still weren't sure whether you liked me."
"Maybe I'm growing accustomed to you."
"I smell a rat," I said. "What are you up to?"
"Actually..."
"Yes?"
"I want to measure your dick." She took a tape measure from the pocket of her
jeans and let it unroll theatrically to the floor.
"Erica, why do you need to know?"
"I just do. Take off your pants."
"But I'm not erect."
She raised an eyebrow. "I think we can fix that problem."
"That's foreplay. Against the rules."
"How can it be foreplay? There's no after."
"Then that makes it plain play."
"Stop arguing and get them off."
"I will if you will. You have to take off your top." She immediately whisked the
tee shirt over her head. She was wearing a bra. "I've never seen you in a bra
before."
"That doesn't mean I don't wear them. I usually come here dressed down for
convenience."
"It comes off too."
She reached around, unclasped it and dropped it to the floor. Topless in pair of
old jeans, she stood relaxed, waiting. I liked her breasts best about her. I
guessed they were, as breasts go, nothing out of the ordinary. More or less
average sized, with thick nipples. But it was the shape of them I kept
remembering. They were firm, fresh, fit. More than any other of her features,
her breasts demonstrated her youth. I stood and unbelted my trousers, dropping
them to the floor, and pulled down my briefs. My dick was a bit interested in
her toplessness. It had rolled out from its normal repose a little but still had
a long way to go to the stage she wanted.
"You can do better than that," she said.
"I might need a hand."
Without expression she reached and loosely took hold with her left hand. "You
can do better than that," I said. She neatly raised one eyebrow, a neat trick,
and studied my face. She appeared to make up her mind and, looking down, dropped
slowly to her knees. She let out a long breath, then bent her head and took my
swelling penis into her mouth. "That'll do it every time," I said softly.
"Guaranteed."
Shortly she withdrew her mouth and brought up the tape. She measured for length
and circumference. "Hmm," she said. "I expected bigger numbers."
"Sorry."
"You want to know?"
"I don't need to know."
She looked down at the rigid matter in question, still grasped in her left hand.
"I guess I'd better finish this thing off," she said. She looked up at me. "But
warn me. I don't swallow."
"Can't say I blame you," I said. "I wouldn't either."
EPISODE 8:
"How come," she said, her feet resting post-coitally on the headboard, "you're
divorced?"
I reversed myself and stretched out beside her. "You're asking why?" I reached
out with a finger and rolled the nearest of her nipples with it. She watched
idly.
"I guess," she said.
"Lots of reasons but no big one. I mean, I didn't bash her or anything and she
didn't run away with the milkman. We married young and we grew up to be
different people. In the end we just didn't want to live together."
"You didn't love her?"
"Not in the end, no. To be brutally frank, she irritated me."
"And she didn't love you?"
"I think that might have been even more clear-cut. She's settled down now with a
nice man who suits her very well. Good luck to her."
"You're on good terms?"
"Well, not bad terms. We don't seem to correspond much. It's been eight years or
so. The kids live with her but they visit sometimes. You've seen them."
She laughed. "You do realise your daughter is a year older than me. Hmm, I
wonder whether that's a factor?"
"It isn't. You're much better looking. Besides, that's my strategy and not
your's. It doesn't work in reverse."
She clasped my hand to her chest and gazed at me with wide eyes. "Oh daddy," she
said with a tremor in her voice. "What are you doing to my breasts? Don't stop.
I really like it."
Irritated, I snatched my hand away and climbed off the bed.
"Hah," she shouted triumphantly. "See? Not so amusing when the boot is on the
other foot, is it?" She sat up and pointed. "Look," she said, delighted. "Proof
positive. I rest my case. The dirty old man wants to fuck his daughter."
Damn it. My penis was swinging up to full-blooded hardness as she pointed at it.
She flopped back on the bed invitingly. "Oh daddy," she said, rolling her eyes.
"It's too big but I've just got to have it. Please try not to hurt me, dearest
papa."
Bitch. But these highly-charged games had a strong erotic appeal. I moved
quickly and plunged straight into her as she smirked at me. "Just whose fantasy
is this?" I asked her. "Yours or mine?"
"Who cares," she said.
EPISODE 9:
She didn't tell me her period did not arrive on the next due course. She didn't
tell me until after she tested positive. She was, all things considered, matter
of fact about it.
"Well then," I said expansively, naturally proud. "You should not have doubted
me."
"I didn't," she replied. "I knew it was a matter of time."
"Well then," I said again. "It's all over. Our contract is completed and you are
hereby discharged from further obligation."
She looked at me impassively. "Will you miss me?"
"Yes," I said. "But will you miss me?"
"Possibly," she said evasively. "But it had to come to an end, one way or the
other. I can't stay married to Matt while I continue to screw the next door
neighbour. No matter what the arrangement, it can't go on. It's not fair to
him."
"It's never been fair to him. But you have your beloved baby and it's our
secret. How's he taking it?"
She looked away. "I haven't told him yet. He's not the father."
"It's not impossible. He could be."
"No," she said flatly. "No way in the world. The timing doesn't match, although
he wouldn't know that." She gazed back at me sadly. "But I do."
"Jesus, Erica, keep your hormones in check. Don't go sentimental on me now."
She took a quick step and smacked me hard across the face. "You can be such a
prick," she spat at me venomously. "I don't know why I..." She tailed off,
turned away and, to my astonishment, burst into tears. I tried to hold her but
she shrugged me away impatiently. I waited.
She dropped her hands from her face. "It's just been fucking to you, hasn't it?"
Whoops. Hormones or not, here was an issue. Delicacy was required. "It's been a
lot more than that," I said. "You know it."
"Do I?"
"Yes. And you love your husband."
"Do I?"
"Don't you?"
She turned to me, her face blotched from crying. "I don't know."
Damn. Double damn. "Erica, you haven't convinced yourself you're in love with
me?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"I'm too old for you."
She smiled at me wistfully. "On the face of it," she agreed. "But how come when
I'm with you I don't want to go home? How come sex with you is 10 times
better? How come I can't face the thought of not having you any more? How come I
hate being pregnant and I don't want the baby because it means our arrangement
is finished? Tell me, Tom? You think you know everything. Tell me how come?"
I sighed deeply. "I can't help you with Matt," I said. "In fact I can only harm
you. Give yourself a little time. Then, if you continue to feel this way, you
will have to make a decision."
"What decision is that?"
"Stay with Matt and forget about me, or leave Matt and come to live here."
Her eyes filled with tears again. "That's an option?"
"Definitely. I can't imagine why you would want to hook up with a cranky old
man, but if you do I will welcome you with open arms. You and your baby."
"But you don't love me."
"Yes I do," I lied.
"You mean you love to fuck me."
"Ricky, I love you."
"Don't call me Ricky. Well, I guess you can if you want to."
"What?"
"Call me Ricky. If you want. But not in public." She sighed. "Against my better
judgement, I'm going to believe you. Don't worry - I'm not moving in tomorrow.
But it helps to know there's an option."
"Ricky?"
"What."
"Don't tell Matt." She looked at me steadily. "It will become tempting to do so
in moments of stress," I said. "But don't do it. Don't ever do it. Now and
forever, forever and ever, it's our secret. Agreed?"
She nodded her head slowly. "Agreed."
"I'll be here," I reassured her. "I'm not going away."
"I can still visit," she said.
"Whenever you want."
"Whenever I want," she repeated. She lifted her head. "I really do want the
baby."
"I know. That's what made you do what you did. It had little to do with me."
She smiled. "It does now."
EPISODE 10:
End of story? Well, no. The baby was a beautiful girl and Matt adored her. But
I'm jumping too far ahead.
Erica and I quit our relationship cold. There was no future in it - my bluff
worked - and in any case it was way too dangerous in all its aspects. I don't
know how we got away with it for as long as we did. It said a lot for Matt's
perspicacity. I'm very certain I'd know very soon my wife was being fixed up on
a regular basis.
Maybe not quite cold. She was six months pregnant and showing it ostentatiously
when she arrived at the door one night, disgruntled and dissatisfied. For some
weeks Matt had been failing to meet conjugal obligations on the grounds it might
harm the baby. She had argued this was nonsense, at least until a late stage,
but he would not be budged. She wanted my opinion.
"I'll give you my opinion," I said. "Take down your pants, get down on the
carpet on your hands and knees and pull up your dress."
"Ooh," she said, her eyes wide. She was on the floor in a flash.
She'd put on weight and grown some fur since my last viewing. Naturally. I
dropped my trousers. "You sure you're ready for this?" I asked out of
politeness.
"Since when have I not been ready? If you don't hurry I'll dissolve."
It was a warm familiar place, even after a few months of absence. "I've missed
this big fellow," she said, sighing. "Welcome back."
She apologised later for breaking the agreement. She said she was horny and she
had hoped for just the response she had received. She said she'd be a good girl
thereafter.
"I want one thing in return," I said. "After you have the baby, and while you're
still feeding it, I want to taste your milk. Just once."
She shivered visibly. "You know all the right things to say to me, you awful old
man," she whispered. "Now you've got me all stirred up again. Can we manage it
again before I go home?"
EPISODE 11: FINAL:
End of story? Well, no. The baby was a beautiful girl and Matt adored her. I
duly tasted Erica's milk from breasts which had grown bountiful. It was
sensationally erotic and she fished out my stiff penis and stroked it while warm
liquid filled my mouth and baby Victoria - don't call her Vicky - slept beside
us. We didn't fuck.
Victoria grew, healthy and sunny. The family prospered. Matt graduated from his
night job to a daytime managerial position. I was too old and experienced to
push for any sort of relationship with the child other than that of a friendly
neighbour. By the time she was three she was already a heartbreaker, and if I
came too close I knew my heart would surely be broken. Unless you knew about the
secret, and nobody did but me and Erica, everything was rosy in the garden.
One fine sunny Sunday, Erica came to the back door. I let her in and we watched
through the kitchen window her husband and her daughter playing a rollicking
game in the yard next door.
"She's a beautiful little girl," I observed unnecessarily.
"She is," Erica agreed. "Guess what?"
"What?"
"Matt wants another one."
We continued to look at the two of them through the window. "Well," I said
eventually, "I guess I should tell you I have recently completed arrangements at
the office so that in future I will be working leisurely from home during the
day."
"Convenient," she said.
"When do you want to start?"
"Victoria goes to her playgroup on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings."
"Convenient," I said.
ENDS
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