“Yet you never talked with me about it, did you; even when one Saturday when we spent most of the morning fucking I asked ‘not that I’m complaining but what’s gotten into you?”
“I swear to you that I was all screwed up emotionally at the time, Carson; I’m so sorry.”
We chatted a few minutes more; I didn’t ask her to tell me if she had shot Johnny and his henchmen. Even though marital privilege would keep me from testifying about that, I didn’t want to really know for sure. Then I looked at my watch; her time was up. “It’s been an illuminating hour, Sharon. When can I meet you at a lab or doctor’s office to have a DNA test on the baby and for you to get an STD test?”
“I’ve already anticipated your request, and have an appointment a week from Saturday at 10:00 a. m. at the clinic on Patterson and Vine, if that’s convenient,” she replied.
“It is convenient,” I said as I stood up. “If the DNA test confirms what your papers say I’ll have my attorney modify the divorce to include child support and reasonable visitation.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any hope for reconciliation?” she asked on the verge of tears. “I’ve given my OG/GYN permission to provide you with all of my test results and answer any questions.”
I shook my head “No,” and walked out the door.
**************
It turned out that little Alicia — that’s what Sharon intended to call her — was mine. Just to touch all bases I did visit Sharon’s doctor and she confirmed what Sharon said — her hormone levels were highly unusual (“unique in my experience” was the way she put it and she had been practicing for twelve years) and that there were a handful of cases in the literature that speculated that unusual hormone levels had resulted in promiscuity.
Once the DNA test I orchestrated came in Sharon moved the goalposts somewhat before she’d sign the divorce papers. She required that I go to Lamaze classes with her and be in the delivery room. Since if she didn’t sign the kid would be born before the divorce was final and the judge we had drawn would likely require sessions with a counselor I agreed. The final papers were signed with a 50-50 split of assets except that she could live in the house until Alicia turned 18 or if it was sold before then we’d split the proceeds and make an adjustment in the child support payments.
When I agreed to accompany Sharon to Lamaze classes I underestimated the effect having close contact with her, especially when she was pregnant, would have on me. For some reason Sharon looked even hotter pregnant than she did normally — and that’s saying something. When I handled her during Lamaze classes it was impossible to control my stiffy. I was always polite to her and she to me, especially once the divorce came through. I had always wanted to fuck a hot pregnant woman and my dreams went wild after a Lamaze class.
Being no dummy, Sharon recognized my angst although she didn’t do anything about that until a month after the divorce came through and when she was halfway through her 7th month of pregnancy.
When after a Lamaze class I pulled into the driveway of what used to be “our” house as she removed her blouse and bra she said “You know, we’re already divorced. You can fuck me now with no strings attached. I’m horny, you’re horny, why don’t you come in and ravish me? You can do anything that you want to me as long as you don’t hurt Alicia,” she continued staring into my soul while she pushed one of her pregnancy enhanced tits almost into my face.
I guess that I’m a weakling because I slid my tongue out to touch her nipple which was glistening with colostrum. She flinched and gasped when I did that. When my tongue on her nipple turned into my entire mouth trying to ingest her tit it was all over for me.
We raced into the house — she didn’t even bother to put her top or bra back on — shedding clothes as soon as the door closed behind us. She didn’t have much on and was naked before I was. Once I was nude except for a stubborn sock I lifter her up and carried her to what had been our bed, a place that I vowed never to go again. I got a surprise when I got there — the mattress, and even the bed frame and headboard — have obviously been replaced. I couldn’t have stopped even if it was the old bedding, but given the new furniture I went even wilder.
They say that the brain is the most important sex organ. That night made me a believer. When I looked at Sharon’s swollen belly and her colostrum-leaking enhanced tits, I lost all control. After fingering her pussy, sucking her clit, and licking her nipples I very carefully buried my cock in her pussy while she was in doggy position. The penetration elicited a euphoric groan from the depths of my body. She was so tight — obviously due in part to the baby in her womb — that I almost came from insertion alone. While I avoided that, I didn’t last long before spewing a record volume of seminal fluid into her vagina as she whimpered and then eventually passed out.
After a night of sucking and fucking both of us were finally cognizant and staring eye-to-eye as the morning light filtered through the curtains in the bedroom. With a diabolical smile on her face Sharon spoke first. “Alicia really liked her daddy spending the night,” she cooed.
“How do you know that?” I skeptically inquired.
“She’s gently moving around; not kicking like she sometimes does, but like she’s snuggling in the womb. Here, feel,” she continued as she placed my right hand on her stomach.
Shit if she wasn’t right! I could feel gentle movement as I lightly held my hand in contact with her belly. That is when I changed from a wronged self-righteous he-man to a fucking wimp.
Well, I guess that “wimp” is too strong a word because it was more that I started looking at things from the practical standpoint rather than maintaining a mad. Why should I be denied great pregnant sex while paying my share of housing costs for no benefit?
The next weekend I moved back into the house. Saturday morning I didn’t ask Sharon if it was all right for me to move back in, I didn’t discuss it with her, I merely showed up, moved my stuff in while she watched, took her to lunch, and then that afternoon fucked her comatose and sucked so much colostrum out of her tits I think that they shrunk from an F cup to an E cup.
Bill and Debby came to visit the weekend after I moved in. They were obviously surprised and pleased but said nothing about it — I think that Sharon had somewhat greased the skids in advance. When I talked to my parents on the phone after that weekend they acted nonchalant about me moving back in.
I think what really helped me is that Sharon never, ever, ever asked any questions about the future. She made it abundantly clear that she was happy to have me back in her bed, and denied me nothing — because she knew that I was as careful not to hurt the baby as she was. I do think that until a week before she delivered Alicia we had more — and more rewarding — sex than at any other similar time period in our lives.
I was still thinking that I was going to move out once Sharon was out of commission; that thought lingered until Alicia was actually born. Once I held the eight pound three ounce, 21 inch long, squirming little body in my arms my life changed. At least I returned her to her mother’s arms before I started crying and made a damn fool out of myself.