We proudly present the second part of the first in a series of unjustly neglected underground classics of erotica, revived and reinterpreted for your entertainment and pleasure by Tristan Trotsky, a noted dilettante of decadent literature.
— 0 —
The earnest literary critic can but conjecture about the state of mind of the author of the sad and perverse litany of profanity that is ‘The Random Rod’. Who was the miserable pornographer masquerading behind the pseudonym ‘Maximo Urge’? Did he write other forgotten works? Does it matter? Probably not.
It’s notable that in this shoddy work every male character — and there are few of any other gender, are all mightily well-hung, lusty, erect, rampant, and permanently ready for sex. Is that logical? Is that reasonable? Indeed, this fantastic tale flows with the lubrication of so much gushing sperm the reader almost expects the yellowing pages to be moistly sticky with its residue. Although there’s a kind of rationalisation provided by the narrative later on, such justification is not strictly necessary. Although there are elements of Voltaire’s great satirical work ‘Candide’ — in which another naïve innocent endures picaresque adventures through which he is debauched and abused by a corrupt world, this is not great literature, but cheap tawdry pornography. It needs no other excuse. And, after the wild adventures that befell poor Roderick Random in the first section, it’s around this mid-point that this novel takes a stranger turn. From a kind of debauched Henry Fielding, into a darker more-Gothic realm, with De Sade overtones.
The narrator addresses his audience directly, commenting ‘Gentle reader, I will not profane your sensitivities over-much with too many details of the hazards and indignities of Roderick’s journeyings, for they are beyond imagining. Suffice it to say that, leaving ‘Swift’ Nick to his fate, he eventually finds himself stranded on the road to London, with gathering storm-clouds in the darkening sky. Our unfortunate hero finds himself following a sign down a long winding tree-lined lane towards a monastery, through lengthening evening-shadows. The building silhouetted black against the sky stands like a forbidding fortress. But ‘Sanctuary’ he thinks, ‘they’ll offer me sanctuary.’ In the wall there’s a heavy arched wooden door. At his firm knock a panel set into the oak slides opens and a monk’s head protrudes. A tonsure of hair, with gold-rim spectacles perched upon a protuberant nose mapped with blood-vessels. The wanderer requests overnight sanctuary. The main door opens.
‘I am Father Benevolence’ announces the monk gravely, rubbing his chin while circling the newcomer critically, ‘what is your age my child?’
‘I am nineteen, gentle sir, almost twenty, if it pleases you.’
‘It pleases me well, for only those over eighteen are ever allowed into this sacred place. So you are welcome to share our frugal hospitality, in full, in exchange for a simple obligation. Are you willing to enter and abide by our rules without coercion and according to your own free will?’
Roderick is hungry, he imagines maybe chopping wood or carrying water as the price. Yes, he could do that. ‘I am, I freely accept.’
‘Then you’re welcome to partake of what our community has to offer.’ He’s ushered in through high locked double-gates, its eaves decorated with many strange symbols, and set into thick ivy-patterned fortress walls. Then across a courtyard through a lower arch into the cloisters beyond. He’s surprised and a little disturbed to see naked shackled youths tending the herb-gardens, vineyard and stables. From what he can estimate, none of them are younger than his own nineteen years, but none older than mid-twenties either. All of them are slim and fit, and obviously at perfect ease with their nudity. He’s even more surprised when a group of them break off their grimy labours to form a jostling circle of sweating male bodies to watch as two of them take turns to bugger a third. Watching as the ‘victim’ raises his bottom readily to take them, grunting with pleasure at each anal thrust, his own bouncing arousal equally apparent. The audience crushing together show similar physical evidence of agitated excitement, with down-hung organs quivering horizontal, then perpendicular, rubbing up against each other lasciviously.
Roderick feels a little unsettled, but also undeniably aroused, an answering stirring crawling in his loins. He glances uncertainly across at Father Benevolence, who merely smiles and shrugs in a ‘boys-will-be-boys’ way, and leads him further. He glances back wistfully at the entwined bodies moving together in erotic choreography. Feeling intrigued, fascinated and more than a little threatened by it all. What is the secret of this strange place?, before following his host through an enchanted garden of roses and hydrangea which line the walkway, and then up beneath high spires overshadowing them pleasantly, climbing a flight of narrow twisting stairs into the monastery building itself. Each step worn concave, as if by generations of pacing feet. There’s a sense of great antiquity about the stone walls, hundreds of years old, while the deeper they penetrate its echoing passages there’s evidence of even greater age. As though this edifice has existed since the very dawn of time.
But entering through an ornate doorway he finds himself in a large airy furnished suite, around the walls of which are disposed high mounds of embroidered cushions in many bright colours. There are mobiles hanging from the ceiling, jingling constructs of bells affixed to silver wire, and explicitly homo-erotic scroll-paintings in the manner of stained-glass church-windows skilfully executed unfurled across the walls. There are strategically placed fresh flowers and segments of fruit laid in tiny porcelain water-pots from which delicate scents waft. A chess-set laid out on a mosaic-inlaid table lit by the flickering light of a multi-stemmed candelabra. And coloured-glass vials of amber, sapphire, violet and peach liquids. He’d assumed life within these walls would be ascetic, dedicated only to prayer and contemplation. Perhaps he was wrong?
Barely taking in his lavish surroundings he’s seated at a stout wooden table. The monk claps his hands sharply for Random to be served food, and two handsome naked young men appear, bringing it to him on a tray — their ankles, wrists and throats circled by metal bands. The newcomer feels a little embarrassed, afraid to look, but incapable of looking away. Aware of the powerful sexuality of the tousle-haired youths, the heavy weight of the thick cocks which pendulum between their legs as they move. He rouses himself with an effort, tries to force his gaze away and focus his concentration on the food they’ve brought him. There are fist-sized rolls of bread, each of which when broken open reveals a filling of some kind of salty mushroom heavily seasoned with herbs. All delicious, served with shimmering richly full-bodied white wine.
The monk holds a shimmering glass of the wine up to the light, ‘as rare as gold’ he says in a tone of respectful reverence, ‘and infinitely more precious.’
Once he’s ravenously eaten and drunk his fill — the wine leaving a curiously warming bouquet after-taste, Roderick is invited to bathe and cleanse himself of the sweat and dust of his travels. There’s a wetroom revealed through a half-curtained chink at the room’s far side, leading into a sparse steamy annex where a large tub is already prepared for him, filled to the foamy brim with warm water. Again, the two naked well-hung youths stand ready to assist. When he’s instructed ‘thou shalt divest thyself of all worldly apparel,’ he begins to undress, jerkin first, then shoes. The Monk and the two nude youths watching as each garments is removed. There’s a moment’s hesitation at the britches stage… should he proceed?
‘Thou shalt carry naught of the taint of the world into these sacred walls,’ and in response he doffs his final covering to stand naked. Aware of heir close appraisal as he straightens. What is there to lose? He climbs into the tub to be bathed, with the two youths in intimate attendance, as Father Benevolence watches. When the monk says ‘Thou art well-formed and not unpleasing to the eye,’ he’s uneasily reminded of his first encounter with the predatory Squire Fleshpole, when his father showed him off in the hipbath. But surely the gentle pious monks will have no rapacious interest in his body?
‘Thermal springs’ says Benevolence conversationally, ‘volcanic vents deep underground ensure us constant hot water, and a sub-tropical microclimate that encourages all manner of exotics to grow, as well as making nudity the choice mode of dress.’
As he talks, they shampoo, shave and soap him as he stands there, but inevitably the bizarre atmosphere has its effect upon him, especially as they devote much attention to his groin area, more than is strictly necessary for the demands of cleanliness. One sliding his foreskin carefully back so the other can drool warm soapy water over the sensitive exposed tip. One cupping and holding his balls aside so the other can sponge between his legs and up the crease dividing his full buttocks. He grits his teeth, yet it results in an unbidden erection he’s unable to suppress.
Athough he’s initially embarrassed, Father Benevolence merely nods to one of the attendant youths, who promptly bends over and takes the bloated cock-head into his warm mouth. Taken by surprise by the succulent-moist envelopment, Roderick simply stands stock-still, immobile with his feet in the tub, pleasantly amazed as the boy swallows his full length down his throat. Even more so as the second youth takes over and equals his companion’s expertise, taking it just as deep, something even Swift Nick could never accomplish, sucking on his engorged member, slithering it all the way down until all that can be seen is his nose lost in the bush of Roderick’s pubic hair. He gasps and moans as the unexpected sensations radiate from his groin. The two continue to alternate their juicy sucking, and when Roderick squirms out his ejaculation into the welcoming mouth, they carefully exchange his sperm from one mouth to the other, so he can see its milky bubbles between their teeth, and its freckles on their glistening gums as it drools from one tongue to the other, and then back, before swallowing, to the monk’s evident approval.
Breathlessly, in the warm sensual after-glow, the suspicion gradually dawns on him that this is not a normal monastery. That maybe the ‘simple obligation’ he’s so readily agreed to fulfil equates to more than merely chopping wood or carrying water. And that he will not be allowed to leave. Not until they decide. By now the two youths are smoothing an unguent he assumes to be olive oil into his tingling bare skin, massaging it into his shoulders and chest, down over his stomach and legs, down to his individual toes. Then the round hemispheres of his bottom and repeatedly down the full length of his still semi-hard penis.
Once dried, his clothes are not returned, instead gently but firmly the two youths move to bind him into a leather restraint harness. They’ve become visibly excited by their actions, and there’s much sniggering and fumbling which reduces the threat, making it more like a game, and in the warm post-orgasmic haze, with the Monk in stern attendance, he allows it to continue without protest. Now he’s naked but for a leather thong that circles his neck, runs down his back affixing his arms crossed and immobile behind him, then running further down between the crease of his rounded buttocks, between his legs to circle the base of his genitals, emphasising his penis and testicles, making them stand out defiantly.
The Father turns to him, beckoning, and submissively he follows him from the room. Despite being towelled dry, he leaves wet footprints on the tiles. Glancing back he sees the two youths caressing each other’s attractive erections, and almost wishes he could stay. But the monk is leading him, pacing naked through the cold stone corridors beyond. Although self-consciously aware of his nudity at first, his genitals swaying from side to side, his cock slapping occasionally up against his stomach audibly, it seems nudity is taken for granted here, and there’s a charged air of ever-present eroticism. The rich smell of fetid male arousal hanging in the shadows. He’s led to the ‘scriptorium’ where the youth is shown the tasks the monks perform.
With only the sound of scratching pens to interrupt the reverent silence there is a row of five immense carved-oak desks where the monks toil in copying illustrated manuscripts. Benevolence speaks in hushed tones — ‘we require you in the attitude of prayer.’ As Roderick goes down on his knees, the monk sits at an unoccupied desk and unfastens the sash of his habit, parting the robes so they fall open, revealing an obscenely large erection protruding lazily from a mass of pubescence nesting the big orbs of his balls.
‘We offer you hospitality’ he continues, the cock swaying an inch from the youth’s eyes, its stale odour reaching his nostrils, its swollen gleaming head as blood-mapped as the monk’s nose, oozing purple from the ragged foreskin, ‘for as long as you supply the hospitality of your tight rectum and ruby lips. Now you may stuff your mouth with cock-meat,’ so Roderick is instructed to give thanks to his benefactors through this act of voluntary submission. He mentally shrugs, after what has occurred he has no choice. And it’s not as though he’s unfamiliar with being used and abused by male lust. His mouth opens, his temples pounding, his cheeks colouring, as his lips close over the invading crimson corona of the grotesquely engorged glans, its salty taste filling his mouth. The spongy shaft-membrane stiffens and writhes against his lips, sliding forward to penetrate the soft moistness of his mouth, slipping further into him, across the roof of his palette until he’s almost gagging on its length. Unable to control the depth of its forceful penetration, his arms affixed behind him, he begins to suck determinedly at the solid meat, his lips straining, saliva dribbling down his chin. He can see an inch of it — maybe less, still outside his mouth, impaling him.
And beyond the naked hairy thighs he can see as the monk shows him extracts of the art-work they’re preparing, illustrating the life of the saint the monastery is dedicated to — Saint Phallus. Echoes of which he recognises from the scrolls decorating the walls of the room he’s been brought from. The martyr was an early evangelist in the pagan days of ancient Rome who was arrested and sodomised by Roman soldiers. It was then, as the sixteenth legionary entered him, that he experienced a revelation. A spiritual vision that told him it is nobler to receive than it is to give. That instead of his humiliating ordeal being a variety of martyrdom, he could see it as a way of submission, an act of giving himself up to the needs of other man, loving his fellow man in a very literal sense. So afterwards, once he was released and resumed his missionary wanderings, he continued bringing sexual pleasure to as many men as he could, as part of his mission. Gathering a coterie of followers who shared his vision, and each other’s bodies. Each phase of the story is graphically and explicitly pictured, with beautifully detailed images of fellatio and anal sex, erect penises and orgies, as Roderick is shown, with the monk’s throbbing penis lodged in his throat all the while.
The combination of blasphemously erotic images and the monster in his mouth has an undeniably ecstatic effect. Other scribes and the occasional naked youth passes by, glancing with evident prurience at what he’s doing. Two, then three other monks pause to watch more closely, forming a circle about them. To Roderick, it seems that their eyes are raping him, and he’s powerless to avoid their demanding gaze.
This monastery, Benevolence explains, is dedicated to living according to the Saint’s example. ‘We devote ourselves to instructing those younger than we are, by donating the example of our precious seed to their need’ breathes the monk, ‘are you ready to receive my sacrament?’
Roderick nods, as best he can.
‘It is (grunt) more blessed (groan) to receive than to give’ he continues huskily, ‘to share the (gasp) love of brother for brother and (groan), to drink the milk of human kindness… now, but do not swallow until given permission…’ as the flood of semen fills his throat. A smoky pungent flavour. With his mouth filled he stands, shakily, as the monk tells him, ‘I know your kind are greedy for white fluid. But sperm is alive. It swims. It is the purest essence of man. A gift from man to man to savour. Hold it in your mouth. Stir it with your tongue. Allow it to absorb up into the tissue of your palate, to permeate and burrow through the cellular structure of the roof of your mouth and up to impregnate your brain with its vital neurochemical signature and biological energies. St Phallus taught us through his sacred example that sex organs are our route to the divine. That you have been so generously favoured with so well-endowed an appendage is evidence he intends you for our special vocation. You will join us as our number four… you may swallow now.’
Two spermy gulps later, too late, Roderick realises his fate. The other monks are claustrophobically close, their questing intimate hands on his body, cupping his balls, stroking the soft curve of his bottom, tugging at his cock. He’s fallen foul of a fanatical phallus-worshipping cult, sinful monks who keep runaway youths caged naked in dungeons, youths they have sexually enslaved for elaborately choreographed blasphemous orgies. He reconciles himself to playing along with their vile practices, at least until the opportunity for escape presents itself. He does not resist as he’s led from the scriptorium to a workshop where the temporary leather harness is removed, to be replaced by metal circlets soldered around his ankles, wrists and neck. Exactly like those worn by the other inmates of this place. Each metal band has raised eyelets allowing shackles to be affixed.
‘Sit here’ says Benevolence indicating a low cushioned bench in an alcove, ‘I must attend to a duty in the scriptorium.’ Moments later, flexing his bonded hands, he finds himself temporarily un-chaperoned. Sitting in the alcove adjacent to the workshop he can look through the slit-window out over the enclosed gardens where youths tend the vines and herbs. He can’t help his attention being drawn to their groins, screwing up his eyes in his effort to discern detail. He can also see the high imprisoning walls encircling the entire monastery grounds, and to the forest and countryside beyond which is now impossible to reach. Caught in such thoughts he quickly turns at the sound of someone approaching, and sees one of the handsome tousle-haired naked urchins who’d earlier served him food. As he makes to pass by Roderick smiles, and casually asks his name and how long he’s been kept a prisoner here.
The youth immediately seems nervous and starts glancing left and right. ‘I am Eli’ he manages at length, ‘but we must not be observed just talking. To be together we must engage in a sex act. At the very least toss each other off.’ Roderick agrees. Eli is well-hung with a large uncircumcised hose, so he’s quite agreeable to the suggestion. They sit together and take each other firmly in hand, Eli’s long cool slim fingers wrapping around Roderick’s cock so tightly it causes his balls to wobble, while Eli’s cock snugly fills Roderick’s fist in a satisfying way, radiating a pulsing living heat. They begin slow masturbatory strokes. A passing monk smiles at them, and watches indulgently as their mutual tempo quickens. More calmly now, but in quick excited exhalations matching the actions of Roderick’s rhythmic fist, Eli explains that many of the twenty young men have been incarcerated here for years, selected from local villages ever since they came of legal age, the villagers consider it an honour for them to be chosen. Once within its fortress walls some of them have spent their entire adult lives within its strict enclosure, accepting its rules, and knowing little of the world outside. Most of them are classed as initiates — ‘sex-zombies’ he calls them. Roderick, Eli, and two others, are considered ‘novices’.
Discipline is strictly enforced. According to rota each boy must spend one night in turn with each of the twelve monks. Father Pious, Father Innocent, Father Virtuous, Father Forgiveness, Father Mercy, Father Bounteous, Father Altruism, Father Reverence, Father Purity, Father Veracious, Father Seraphic, and Father Benevolence. Those not required are caged in a locked dormitory where again, according to rota, they sleep three to a palette — and have sex with the youths they’re paired with, so as to show no favouritism and form no emotional bonds. No sexual whim can be denied at any time, and no genital concealment — or indeed, concealment of any sex-act, is allowed.
As Eli explains, once broken in and properly schooled in a range of sexual skills they will eventually be presented to ‘The Bishop’, for his pleasure. But the most favoured ritual of the year is the re-enactment of St Phallus’ revelation, when a youth is selected to take the saint’s part in the great hall, and experience sixteen consecutive penetrations. As he is the latest member recruited to the order, Roderick will be the recipient of this year’s honour…
It’s at this point that Eli squirms uncomfortably on the seat, and his words become little more than a series of grunting gasps, indicating his imminent ejaculation. ‘Seed’ — he warns, ‘please, it must not be wasted.’ So Roderick compliantly kneels, takes the hot and heavy testicles in his hand and uses them to pull down so he’s drawing the hefty shaft lower until he’s faced by its large mushroom-shaped head. Close up, despite all the sex he’s had, he never realised just how perfect a cock could be. Its savage beauty takes his breath away, it slides and slithers across his face as he licks and slavers at its swollen glans, worshiping it, his tongue tracing the thick veins running its length. Eli is moaning with urgent desperation, so Roderick quickly focuses, moving to plunge the straining fore-skinned plummy-tip in his mouth, sheathing it just as the white eruptions begin to pulse like a severed artery into his throat. Gulping, and gulping again at the rich, thick and powerfully flavoured fluid. Once the flood has been staunched Roderick continues to suck contentedly, until his own impending climax forces him to stagger unsteadily to his feet so Eli can swiftly duck his head down to do the same, taking Roderick’s achingly red cock deep and drinking the uncontrollable bursts of spunk that deluges him. The sensation is overwhelming.
Eli lifts his head smiling a lopsided smile, wiping his mouth, ‘thank you Roderick, thank you.’ His eyes glazed with infatuation, his lips a little parted as though about to say more. ‘It may be selfish of me, but I’m glad you’re here. I think we’re going to be good together.’
Time passes. During the first two weeks, while participating with other captive youths during the day, he’s summoned to service the varied nightly sexual requirements of each of the twelve monks. Each of them has a peculiar peccadillo. Father Purity likes to have two boys together, shifting his attentions from one bottom to the other as they orally pleasure each other. Father Veracious has an adjustable pulley system in his suite enabling him to suspend harnessed-boys upside-down from the ceiling, in such a position that he can insert his penis into their mouths and then rock their heads up and down on it, so he has absolute control and they have no control whatsoever over the depth of penetration, while he explores to his heart’s content between their splayed legs, inserting various large dildos into their bottoms while squeezing and foldling their helplessly exposed genitals into a variety of devices. Father Purity prefers to use his wet-room for piss-games, which Roderick is at first a little uncertain of, until the warm play of yellow liquid splashing across his body, concentrating on his groin produces a pleasurable response. Father Bounteous likes mild flagellation, spanking them until their buttocks are red. Father Seraphic enjoys long anal sessions, while Father Benevolence just wants sucking-off, a service Roderick is more than happy to supply.
In the scriptorium various boys model events from the saint’s life for the monks to sketch, while other initiates crawl on all fours from monk to monk stimulating their creativity more directly, orally taking them to the point of climax, but using their skills to pause and extend the moment indefinitely. In the vinery it’s explained to Roderick how generous doses of semen are added to the wine, to give it its special quality, making it popular throughout the county (although the secret ingredient is obviously not revealed to outsiders), and is particularly favoured by the diocese priests and clerical officials. During the distillation process the youths line up to be orally stimulated, but carefully ejaculate directly into the vat. This is repeated over and over again. Resulting in, of course, the famous highly-potent ‘Saint Phallus’ wine which he’s been drinking all his days, never aware of its aphrodisiac properties. The secret ingredient explains so much about his life, insidiously tweaking his libido.
Then, in the herb-garden he’s shown the special shrub that must be nurtured. ‘The Hellflower is a secret that goes back to the pagan Druids’ explains Eli to him, ‘which the monks of St Phallus have continued over the intervening centuries due to its unique properties. It’s leaves are dried and, when ground to powder, are added to the food we eat. Combining with the special-ingredient in the wine it stimulates a constant aphrodisiac effect, the results of which can be clearly seen all around us. For orgies extra doses can produce frenzied and long-lasting effects.’
Eli breaks off a leaf, offers it to Roderick. Without hesitation he chews it up and swallows it. That he’s intrigued by the secret powers of the plant, and tempted by its promise, is perhaps already a result of its strange energies. As he has been savouring the cloyingly rich wine as it slithers down his throat. Or teasing out the dark particles mixed into his bread with his tongue, and devouring them greedily. Feeling the thrilling response surging through his thighs. Fuelling his hunger for more into a tangible and growing force. His nagging fidgety need drawn to, and more and more aroused by other bodies, the lure of the sway of large penises, the sensual curves of rounded bare buttocks. His own persistent and uncontrollable arousals becoming increasingly frequent, his orgasms more volcanically intense. His growing craving to indulge becoming an irresistible intoxication.
That evening he finds himself in the caged dormitory assigned to Eli. While wistfully thinking back to the sex he’d enjoyed in past times with Aubrey and Swift Nick, the outside world now seems impossibly distant. Something from another life, lost forever. And he’s formed an affectionate friendship with Eli. ‘What did Father Benevolence mean about me being number four?’ he asks.
‘If I can fuck you, I can whisper in your ear.’ This seems an eminently sensible suggestion, so Roderick rolls over onto his stomach, parts his legs and raises his thighs a little, offering access. He feels the warm weight of Eli’s body upon him, then the firm heat of his first penetration squeezing just the cock-head inside. Using only the natural lubrication of saliva and cock-ooze, his anus opens smoothly in response to receive the rectal invasion, raising and flexing his hips to draw it in, exhaling hard, as the shaft noses its way inch by exciting inch along the tight anal passage, until it slides all the way in. For a long moment they stay locked together without moving, the pleasure so startlingly intense he almost forgets the subterfuge. His own erection almost painfully hard, quivering up against his stomach in its own desperate urgency, his hanging balls trembling.
‘Only three of us are novices’ whispers Eli determinedly, ‘you are now the fourth. We will soon be taken to see the Bishop. I’m not sure what that means…’
‘Yes, yes’ groans Roderick, ‘but please start fucking me now, I can’t wait any longer’ and in response the deeply embedded cock begins moving back and forth within the clasp of his tight rectum, slowly in short but lengthening thrusts at first, but gradually increasing speed, pistoning faster.
‘But whatever it is, I don’t intend being around. It’s after their audience with the Bishop that they end up as sex-zombies. So before that, I’m out of here.’ He groans soft and deep, pauses, then — as Roderick wriggles his raised bottom to encourage more, he resumes more furiously. ‘Each month a cart from the village arrives to pick up amphora’s full of wine. The next time, with your assistance, one of those amphora will contain — not wine, but me,’ his voice barely audible above the loud slap of their bodies impacting each other, Roderick forcing backwards, meeting each thrust as he attempts to drive it deeper. Their balls jerking and dancing together in shared rhythm. Roderick is unable to control the howl of pure joy that escapes the moment Eli’s orgasm roars through his body, almost biting his tongue in half as his body spasms as he feels each spermy-spurt gushing deep inside him
After a long pause Eli extracts slowly, plopping loose, wipes oozing drips from the tip of his engorged cock, and licks the white slime from his fingers. ‘It’s good with the others’ he whispers hoarsely, almost shyly, ‘but it’s best with you.’
‘We are not in control of our own destinies here. But at least we’ve found each other, I’ll never regret that, never.’ They turn, grinning at each other, their mutual raw arousal beautiful to see, moving to reverse their positions. Their bodies sheened with perspiration, trembling with anticipation.
This time Eli compliantly bends over, parting his legs wide so Roderick can slide his eager cock up his yielding bottom. And Roderick scarcely needs to guide his over-sensitised cock in, it seems to know its way already, rearing and twitching, drawn by some kind of sexual magnetism towards the waiting button mouth. Looking down he sees the drooling head feeding in between the round curves of Eli’s hairless bottom-cheeks, forcing its passage in, and out of sight. It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the raging sexual energies radiating from their interlocked thighs. Their breath racing in moaning mewling sighs as with the gentlest pressure it slip-slithers exquisitely further, until he’s all the way in, fitting tightly snug up against the contours of Eli’s body, totally enveloped by the soft heat, and the frantic fucking begins, and extends, with their grunting and gasping making dirty erotic sounds. The round-mounds of Eli’s buttocks quivering with the shock of each deep penetration. Roderick is no longer in control, he’s fucking like an animal, ramming his stiff cock into the welcoming flesh with such urgent force that he’s grinding his teeth, biting his lower lip until it bleeds, with no thought for his partner. Then his legs are weakening to water as he feels the sperm racing within him, and the burning shock of ejaculation hits him like a powerful blow in the gonads, doubling him over Eli’s warm supporting body as he’s gushing a tide of sperm into Eli’s bowels, drunk with pleasure as the multiple orgasm overwhelms him. His cock still embedded, still pulsing with after-shocks long moments later. ‘That was incredible’ gasps Roderick as the pleasure-waves recede, breath rasping in his throat, ‘I’ve never come off like that before.’
‘I know, it’s amazing. Whatever they’re doing to us here seems to heighten physical sensitivity several levels above the norm. That’s why it gets so addictive. That’s why you just want more all the time.’ United in a sense of hollow emptiness now they’ve both come, in the brief beautiful calm of sated peace that follows orgasm, they stay joined, stroking each other with a kind of clumsy tenderness. Only gradually forcing themselves to continue laying their schemes in short exhausted phrases. Eventually, with their plan worked out in detail, over the next few days they operate together until the day the cart arrives.
Some time later, Roderick unconsciously reaches down to tweak his penis, answering its dull throb. It always seems to be semi-hard these days, moving and questing with a greedy life of its own, with a voracious appetite demanding his attention. And his plump balls, surely they’re swollen? Aching and heavy, crawling with strange sensations, as though a horde of ants are streaming inside the inflated orbs. He’d always been considered well-endowed, but this is obscene. With only the slightest stimulation needed to trigger full erection. And there’s a constant stimulation of attractive bodies, all afflicted with the same sexual need. The same urgent irritation that can only be eased by ejaculation, by draining the balls of the build-up of seed. This place is affecting him, the drugs he’s ingesting in everything he eats, the wine he drinks, the copious amounts of sperm he digests, the continual atmosphere of homo-eroticism working on him, gnawing away at him, until it’s all he can think of. Sure, he’s always enjoyed sex, and has always been sexually active, but this is swallowing him up. If he doesn’t escape soon, it will be too late, and he will never escape.
Then they’re working together within the shadowy confines of the wine-cellar where rows of barrels are stacked in neat regimentation. Their nervy jitters not entirely the result of the chill on their nude bodies. This is the day they’ve planned for. Decanting the contents of the barrels into the heavy amphora’s, and manipulating them towards the loading bay. Nervously ensuring that one of the large glazed pots is empty, ready to contain Eli. And when no-one else is around, they make their move. Roderick watches as his companion clambers into the vessel, the taut muscles beneath his skin visibly stretching and straining with effort. Roderick feels a pang of remorse. Once Eli has gone he’ll have lost his only friend… while he’s helpless to control the way his eyes are feasting on the sight of his Eli’s bare bottom as it wriggles and slithers his way down past the rim. The urge to reach out and caress and lick its curves is almost overpowering.
Eli turns to him before finally ducking down to conceal himself inside. He interprets something of his friend’s mood. ‘I will wait, once I’m safely outside, I’ll wait for you to follow me. I promise, then we’ll be together again.’ Roderick forces a weak smile. Then, with a scrattled breathing-hole punctured in the otherwise air-tight seal, he helps to load the heavy amphora up onto the cart. So far so good. Breathlessly, his chest heaving with effort, he watches the cart pull away and prepare to leave — will there be checks carried out? will Eli be discovered? no, the cart passes out through the firm wooden double-gates into the world beyond. Next time, he thinks, that will be me. But before that can happen he’ll have to inveigle one of the others to help him. Unless Eli can work something from outside on his behalf? The day seems long and empty. Time drags by. He works in the herb-gardens, his thoughts always distracted by thoughts of the escaper. Where is Eli now? Has their desperate gamble succeeded? But, within twenty-four hours he hears a commotion as the gates re-open, a delegation of villagers enter, shoving the naked Eli between them, he is firmly bound, dirty with an abrasion on his forehead. Roderick is shocked. Obviously the entire county shares the shameful secret. There is no escape. His heart sinks. Eli is bathed and returned to the pen. Roderick is frightened and unsettled by witnessing, and participating in the entire episode.
‘Please sir, can you tell me, what will become of me?’ pleads Roderick to Father Benevolence as they lounge across the embroidered cushions in the luxury of his cell, the suite to which he’d first been taken on the day of his arrival. The monk is obviously feeling expansive in the warm flush of the energetic mutual sex they’ve enjoyed, and encouraged by the way the younger man continues to kiss and lick his lolling cock.
‘Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll tell you. You may have noticed, just as there are none here younger than eighteen, so there are none over the age of twenty-five’ he explains. ‘You want to know why? listen. Some who show particular aptitude will be invited to join the order. To become one of us. That is rare, although it happens. For there must always be twelve of us, and a newcomer can only replace one who has passed over. But most of our boys will leave here to become emissaries and missionaries of the message of Saint Phallus.’
He reaches down to ruffle Roderick’s hair, with every sign of affection, sighing contendetedly as the younger man mouths his fat balls, ‘this is a cruel, hard world, Roderick. But most of the troubles that befall our benighted planet, the wars, crusades, dynastic struggles and conquests, are due to fierce male competitive aggression. We know this. We also know that it is due to sublimated forms of repressed sexuality that, unable to express themselves in any other way, are enacted through violence. If men would learn to expend those restless energies by sexually pleasuring each other — as you’re doing now, as St Phallus teaches us, there would be no need for such pain. Even the ancient Greeks knew this to be true. They knew that warriors who have loving sex with each other, are more strongly bonded and less prone to fight among themselves. So we must work towards creating a better world, cock by cock. This is what our missionaries do, sometimes in the missionary position, at other times doggy-style, sixty-nine, or whatever erotic configuration you prefer.’
Roderick briefly lifts his head from his messy task. ‘So I will be released from here?’
The monk firmly guides his head back down. ‘Don’t stop, boy. Keep sucking me. Yes. When your time comes, once your training is complete, yes, you will be returned to the world.’
Later that same day, before he’s had time to fully discover all the details of what befell Eli beyond the walls of the monastery during his brief hours of escape, a group of monks arrive — Fathers Purity, Veracious, Seraphic, and Father Benevolence, who separate out the four ‘novices’. Eli’s actions have hastened events. They are now to be taken to ‘The Bishop’. The four naked youths are bonded as he’d been on that first day in the scriptorium — with their hands crossed and affixed behind their backs. The youths are then attached to each other, Eli at the front, a slender chain clasped onto his penis-ring, threaded down between his legs and out between his buttock-cheeks, up and fastened to Roderick’s cock-ring, down between his legs to the boy’s cock-ring behind him, and so to the fourth. In this clumsy chain-gang they’re shepherded down dark stairwells and corridors they’ve never seen before. Long stone staircases lit only by flickering torches, their bare feet cool on the moist dusty chill. Emerging eventually into a natural cave-system deep below the monastery.
A far more ancient realm lit eerily by luminous moss that grows on high ledges. Across the floor of the labyrinth a mutant form of mushroom is cultivated, a group of naked initiates feeding the crop with human excrement. Each fungoid growth bears two spherical seed-pods surmounted by tall phallic mushroom-heads, impregnating the very air with hallucinatory odour. The initiates are brought to a halt before a Neolithic henge-shrine. Around its stone base are ancient skulls and white rib-cages.
There’s a row of four crystal goblets of wine, although unlike the wine served above this has thick globules of fresh sperm floating, dribbling over the rims in slimy squidgy blobs. Glancing warily at each other as it is lifted to their lips, they gulp it down, licking the messy rim. The wine has a rich fungus taste. It takes but seconds for the charged-intoxication to reach their bloodstreams. Then the connecting chain is loosened so that Eli is pressured down to crouch, and sucks each of the three other penis’ in turn. Then Roderick crouches and does the same, after which the other two repeat the actions. Then Eli spreads his legs and bends over, and each of the three slide their stiff cocks up his rectum. Then Roderick bends over and they take him, then the other two. Each of them stops, as instructed, before ejaculation, but all are now straining with fierce erection.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction concocted entirely within my imagination. Any resemblance to real people shouldn’t be surprising since most of my stories are based on people I know. While I hope you enjoy this story and are compelled to provide feedback, I don’t expect the subject matter will appeal to everyone who reads it. As such, I discourage venomous, nasty feedback full of violent wishes against essentially fictional characters in fictional situations. If this story does not appeal to you, there is undoubtedly one somewhere on Literotica that will, so your energy will be better spent on finding it rather than on vilifying me. Your opinions are welcome but your attacks are not.
I had just arrived home from college on spring break the previous day and I was already bored; so bored that I was at the mall looking for any kind of action. I hadn’t been able to track down any friends who had spring break the same week as I did and had actually spent Friday night at home with my parents. I had no intention of spending Saturday night the same way even if it meant trolling the mall that afternoon, looking for anyone I knew. Fortunately, things turned out even better than I could have imagined. I was meandering along the upper level when I heard someone call my name. Because it was a female voice, I was excited to turn and see who it was but, when I did, I didn’t immediately see anyone I recognized. When she smiled, though, I realized it was Becky who had hailed me.
Becky and I had attended church together from when we’d been pre-teens into our early teen years. In fact, I’d had a bit of a crush on her for a while, which may have been how I recognized her so easily despite not having seen her in about five years. She had somehow gotten even cuter but, as my eyes dropped to check out her body, it took a moment to process what I was seeing. The unnatural way she was walking toward me was my first clue but, because she was facing directly toward me, I couldn’t tell right away that she was definitely pregnant. I don’t know if I didn’t have a visible reaction to that realization or whether she just ignored it, but she continued toward me with that same smile until we somewhat awkwardly hugged.
“So, what’s new?” I asked with a smirk, glancing down at her belly. She wasn’t huge but she wasn’t trying to hide that she was showing, either.
“How much time have you got?” she asked in response. So we started talking and eventually started walking as we talked and, when she needed to sit down for a bit, we stopped in the food court and continued talking. I learned that, when she’d gone off to college and was out from under her parents’ thumbs, she went a little bit wild. Not only did her grades reflect it immediately, but so did the fact that she found herself pregnant before she’d even been in class for a month. She made it very clear that it wasn’t as a result of sleeping around; she’d met a guy and had fallen in love but, when she told him she was pregnant, he disappeared…literally. He abruptly left school and she had no idea how to even reach him. Then there had been the occasion of having to tell her pious Christian parents. They had immediately yanked her out of school and she’d been under their watchful eye ever since. Getting out of the house and actually having an opportunity to socialize was almost unheard of, though they had lightened up just slightly. And while they weren’t thrilled that she was pregnant, they were even less thrilled that she was planning to give their first grandchild up for adoption. So she wasn’t shopping at the mall; she was just escaping the oppression of her highly critical, extremely judgmental parents.
We did talk about me a bit as I filled her in on my freshman year in college, which wasn’t nearly as eventful as hers. Despite the drama that she’d experienced, the feelings I’d had for her years ago were quickly reasserting themselves. I had a suspicion that Becky was aware of it, too, based on how her demeanor toward me softened. Initially, she wasn’t exactly standoffish, since she’d been the one who’d approached me, but I guess she seemed just a bit cautious, which was understandable. As time passed, however, she was even getting a bit flirtatious, which was what made me wonder if I was unknowingly wearing my heart on my sleeve.
“Whoa, look at the time,” she finally said, “I better get going before the ‘rents send out the infantry to find me. At least I’ll be free of them for a few hours tonight. They’ve got some event which, fortunately, they don’t want to drag me to so they won’t have to answer questions about my condition.”
“Why don’t I walk you out to your car?” I suggested, wanting to spend more time with her if I could manage it.
“Thanks,” she replied, then paused for a moment as if thinking something through, “Do you have any plans tonight? I feel like I’m cutting this short, but we can pick up where we left off later, if you’re free.”
“No, I’ve got nothing on my calendar,” I told her.
“How about I call you once they leave?” she said, “I hope you don’t mind sneaking around a little. I’m sure they’d have a conniption if they knew I’d just spent so much time with a boy, much less invited him into their house while they’ll be gone. Even being a boy from church wouldn’t make a difference.”
“No, that’s fine with me,” I replied, hoping that, being alone in her house, we wouldn’t end up just continuing our conversation.
We planned it all out as I walked her out to the parking deck and to her car. Once she’d unlocked it and opened the door, she turned back to me, maybe just to say goodbye, but I went for it and leaned in to kiss her. Fortunately, she responded positively and before I knew it, we were making out. Her arms went around my neck and mine went to her waist, her belly pressing against my abdomen, but I couldn’t resist sliding my hands down to her ass. My cock was growing as we made out and I caressed her ass, but she couldn’t feel it against her because her belly was in the way and I figured that was probably a good thing.
“I really should go,” she finally said after pulling away from me, “but I’ll see you later.”
She slipped into the driver’s seat and gave me one more smile before closing the door. I headed for the stairwell to get to my own car as she drove off, the threat of my cock bursting from my jeans diminishing with each step. I was on Cloud 9 because that last smile she’d given me was definitely not indicating any regret or apprehension; that smile definitely said we’d be enjoying each other’s company that night.
I was in a fantastic mood as I headed home and while I killed the next few hours until I heard from her. Since the drive to her house would only take about ten minutes, we’d decided that she would call me once her parents were gone, figuring that it was unlikely they’d come back after that ten minute period. Once she gave me the “all clear,” I tried to take my time in heading out, just to give her parents a bit more time in case they forgot something and had to turn around. When I finally parked, a couple of houses away as she’d requested, I was almost jittery with excitement. I’d barely rung the doorbell when she swung the door open, so I assumed that she was pretty excited, too. Once I’d stepped inside and she’d closed the door behind me, we were in each other’s arms in the entryway, making out.
I’d noticed that she’d changed clothes from the shirt and pants she’d been wearing at the mall to a dress and, when I reached down to caress her ass, I discovered that she wasn’t wearing any panties. This could only be taken as an extremely positive and encouraging sign. It was after only a couple of minutes that Becky backed up slightly and suggested we relocate.
“Let’s go downstairs,” she said, “If my parents were to return, we’d hear them and, if I couldn’t sneak you out in time, I could hide you until they went to bed.”
She took my hand and led me through a door, closing it behind us as we headed down the stairs into a finished basement.
“I’m going to assume that you don’t have much experience with pregnancy,” she said as we made our way downstairs.
“My only experience was during the nine months prior to my birth,” I replied, “but I really don’t remember anything about it.”
“Well your first lesson is that my body is currently being blasted with hormones,” she said as we approached a couch, “and I don’t know if it’s the same for every pregnant woman, but I’ve found that pregnancy makes me incredibly horny. I’ve been taking care of my needs all by myself for months, but I assume you’d be okay with lending me a hand.”
“How about if I lend you a tongue?” I replied and had her sit on the couch as I knelt before her. She reclined back and spread her legs as I started sliding the hem of her dress up, ultimately revealing her trim, brown bush. She took the hem from me and raised it over her belly as I lowered my head and started kissing her smooth inner thighs. I worked my way closer to her pussy while alternating sides until her protruding belly loomed over me. After a quick look at how well-groomed her bush was, I ran my tongue up her slit, tasting her copious juices and causing her to moan.
I’d never eaten a pussy with a protruding belly right above it so, even though she wasn’t huge yet, it took a little bit of adjusting to get used to it. It occurred to me that, although I didn’t believe it would be a problem, it would also require some adjustment to have sex with her and that certain positions might be out completely while others might be the most conducive to mutual pleasure. It was just a passing thought because the longer I lapped at her pussy, the louder she was moaning and the more she was rocking her hips toward my face. When I slipped a finger into her, finding her fairly snug and quite slippery, and started licking and sucking her clit, it surprised me when she suddenly started to shake as she came.
I suspected that my technique was not solely responsible for her cumming so quickly and, as I continued to eat her through that first orgasm, I figured that the hormones and her general horniness were accountable as well. She made no move to stop me when it appeared as though she’d finished cumming, so I just kept at it, licking and sucking her clit while pumping my finger in and out of her hot, wet pussy. My cock was rigid and I was looking forward to slipping it into her but I also had no problem with spending some time focused on repeatedly satisfying her. If nothing else, it would certainly take the pressure off of my performance once I did slip into her and, additionally, it would make a return invitation more likely.
It wasn’t long before she came again and, as I continued to devour her pussy, she continued to cum. When she finally stopped me, I don’t know if it was because it became too much for her or she just wanted to switch things up while we still had the time. In any case, she eventually started to sit up while taking my head in her hands.
“That was amazing,” she said then leaned down to kiss me, “but I want your cock now.”
I had no intention of arguing with her but, before I started to strip down to give it to her, I grasped the hem of her skirt from where it rested on top of her belly and raised it up over her head, revealing that she was completely naked beneath it. As I cast it aside, I leaned down to lick her hard nipples then also caressed the soft, smooth flesh of her tits. She moaned and ran her fingers through my hair, but soon stopped me from doing that, as well.
“Stand up for me,” she said, so I kissed her then did. As she started to open my jeans, I pulled my shirt up over my head so I’d be as naked as she was. I kicked off my shoes as she got my jeans down so that I could step out of them. Before taking down my underwear, she caressed the bulge that was threatening to break through them. When she started sliding my underwear down, my rigid tool sprung out in her face and, once my underwear hit my ankles and I was stepping out of them, she took it in her hand and slowly pumped it. I moaned softly and ran my fingers through her long, brown hair as she gently tongued the head then engulfed it fully in her mouth. She ran her mouth up and down my tool a few times, just long enough to let me know that she was a skilled cocksucker, before slipping it free and looking up at me while still pumping it.
“What do you think,” she asked, “position-wise?”
Missionary was pretty much out, though I wouldn’t have suggested that, anyway. I figured doggie-style would work but didn’t seem very intimate for our first time. I ended up sitting on the couch and had her facing away from me, which gave me a moment to admire her sweet ass as she lowered herself onto my lap. I probably could have laid back on the couch and had her straddle me while facing me but that would also lack a bit of closeness and would make stroking her clit to help her get off a bit more difficult. I held her hips, my fingertips extending onto her belly, as she grasped my cock and guided it to her pussy. As she lowered herself onto it, we both moaned and, once it was fully embedded inside her, she sat there briefly as my hands moved up to cup her tits.
When she started to move up and down on my throbbing cock, she was initially sitting straight up with her hands resting on my knees. I continued to caress her tits as I looked down at her ass bouncing up and down on my lap. Her pussy felt just as amazing as I’d expected it would but I wasn’t worried about cumming too quickly since she’d already cum several times. I also figured if her hot pussy caused me to blow my load immediately that, not only wouldn’t she hold it against me, but she probably wouldn’t have much difficulty getting me fired up to go again.
She started out moving slowly up and down, allowing both of us to enjoy the full embedment of my cock over and over. I savored the feel of her pussy sliding up and down my tool while fondling her tits but, because of her protruding belly, I couldn’t get a hand onto her pussy to stroke her clit as I’d hoped to. Fortunately, as she’d said, she’d been taking care of her own needs for months so it didn’t surprise me when she dropped her own hand down between her thighs. As she rode me harder and faster, moaning louder and longer as she did, I leaned back, releasing her titties and taking her by the waist. Each time she was coming down on my tool, I would pull down on her hips as I pushed up into her, giving her the maximum penetration I could manage.
Though I had been expecting to cum almost immediately, I was pleasantly surprised when I didn’t and was able to savor the pleasure provided by her hot pussy as she continued to ride me harder and faster. I was even more pleasantly surprised when, just I was actually starting to feel the stirrings of my orgasm due to her pussy continuing to feel even better the longer she was riding me, she slammed herself down on me and started to shake. I could feel goosebumps break out all over her skin and was glad that she was having another orgasm. I was thinking that maybe we could go with doggie-style after all so I could finish up myself by fucking her good and hard, but she had other ideas.
When she’d apparently finished cumming, she stood up, my cock slipping out of her hot pussy, and turned to face me. She leaned down, her tits swinging, and kissed me as I caressed those swinging titties. As she dropped to her knees, her tits moved out of my reach but, since I had a suspicion about what was impending, I wasn’t too broken up about it. Kneeling before me, she took my throbbing cock, still slick with her juices, and pumped it briefly in her fist before wrapping her lips around it. I moaned and reached out to caress her hair as she engulfed my tool in her hot mouth. I thought maybe she was going to suck my cock briefly again then we’d pick another position for further fucking but, as she continued to bob her head up and down and my orgasm continued to build, I started thinking that I’d prefer cumming in her mouth and fucking her again after a brief recovery.
She was demonstrating again that she not only had a talent for cocksucking but also appeared to be appreciative of having an opportunity to have her lips wrapped around a cock. I suppose if denied the opportunity since she’d become pregnant, the desire might have become overwhelming. She certainly seemed to be savoring having my cock in her mouth and was moaning softly as she slid her lips up and down my shaft. I was likewise savoring having her mouth sliding up and down my tool as I felt my orgasm gradually building as my cock grew even thicker. She was pumping the base as she slid her lips down as far as she could manage, which was pretty far along the length of my shaft. Her abilities weren’t the only thing that providing the pleasure I was experiencing. Being able to watch her, somebody who’d I’d had such a crush on at one time, and seeing how enthusiastic she was really was a turn-on, as well.
With her considerable talents, she managed to draw out the pleasure I was experiencing, though I’m not certain that it was completely for my benefit. I was savoring the experience but ultimately reached a point where I knew I was on the verge of a momentous orgasm. As my cock swelled even more, Becky didn’t let up or hesitate; she maintained her pace and, as I exploded into her mouth with a cry of pleasure, she swallowed my load and continued to suck me off. Only once I was completely spent did she let my cock fall from her mouth and raise her head to smile at me.
“That was outstanding,” I told her as I caught my breath. She let go of my cock and moved up to sit beside me on the couch, leaning over to rest her head on my shoulder.
“Outstanding doesn’t even do justice to the way you made me feel,” she replied.
I put my arm around her and kissed her head as we sat there, naked, relishing the experience we’d just shared.
“I’m glad you’re not put off by me being pregnant,” she said after a bit.
“It’s a new experience for me,” I replied, running my hand over her belly, “but so far I really, really like it!”
We started to kiss again as I caressed her belly and brought my hands up to also fondle her tits and stimulate her hard nipples. I could feel the blood returning to my spent cock as we progressed to making out and, when she reached for it and began to stroke it, the recovery was accelerated. I ran my hand over her belly again but continued over it and between her thighs to find her pussy dripping wet once again. It was obvious that, even if I wasn’t fully erect yet, I’d have no trouble slipping into her hot pussy, so I moved off of the couch to kneel in front of her and slipped my cock into her. She moaned and closed her eyes as my cock filled her again but I was watching her tits bouncing as I started to slowly thrust in and out of her. Rather than reach up and still them, I lifted and spread her legs to allow me full penetration into her sweet pussy.
I liked this position because I had a nice view of Becky’s body and could also see the various looks of pleasure on her face but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold her legs up for an extended period. Aside from that, I wanted to be using my hands on her tits or my fingertips on her clit, so I knew this was not the best position I could have chosen. I suspected that she wouldn’t have any issues with making a change. Before she got too close to cumming or my arms got too tired, I let her legs down and slipped out of her.
“I think I’ve got a better idea,” I said as she opened her eyes and looked at me inquisitively. I helped her to sit up as I stood, then had her turn around, kneeling on the sofa cushions while resting her head on the back of the couch. Stepping up behind her, I caressed her ass before guiding my tool back into her. She pushed back as my girth filled her again then I took her by the hips and began to slowly fuck her again. Once I had a nice rhythm going, I moved my hands up from her waist to her swinging tits and cupped them against my palms. This was a much better position for me and, based on the noises she was making, it appeared to be doing the trick for Becky as well.
Her pussy was amazingly slippery and quite snug so it felt incredible as I slid my cock repeatedly in and out of it. Despite how pleasurable it felt, I was not feeling the immediate build of an orgasm, which I attributed to having cum once already. Fortunately, it seemed to work out the opposite way for Becky. It seemed like, after having that first orgasm, the subsequent ones came easier. I hadn’t been fucking her from behind for very long when I felt her entire body trembling and her pussy, amazingly, felt even hotter and more slippery. The better her pussy felt, the faster I was fucking her, just wanting to feel that intense pleasure as much as I could. Of course, the faster I fucked her, the faster she came again. At my age, the times I’d been able to make a girl cum during sex were few and far between, so giving a girl multiple orgasms during sex was unprecedented. I didn’t know if it was being pregnant or if that was just the way Becky was but it was doing wonders for my ego.
When I felt my orgasm gradually building, I was starting to wonder if it was going to be okay to cum inside her. I knew that there obviously wasn’t any concern with getting her more pregnant, but I wasn’t sure that it was cool to assume she’d be okay with it, especially after what had happened with the last guy she’d let do that. Almost as if she was reading my mind, she said, “You can cum inside me if you want.” It was the first time I’d ever been given that kind of clearance while riding bareback so, even though I would have been cool with pulling out and pumping a load on her lower back or in her ass crack, I knew cumming inside her without protection was going to feel absolutely outstanding.
As stoked as I was, I wasn’t necessarily anxious to reach that point because I was really enjoying fucking her. I didn’t end up slipping my fingertips down to stroke her clit after all because she quite obviously didn’t require the additional stimulation. Instead, I continued to fondle her swinging tits until I started getting closer to cumming. At that point, I brought my hands back to her waist and held her as I fucked her harder and faster, my orgasm building more quickly. When I finally exploded into her with a moan of pleasure, I continued to thrust with each spurt of jizz and, before I’d finished cumming, she started trembling as she came again. I only stopped thrusting into her when my cock started to soften and, at that point, she straightened up on her knees, leaning back against me. My hands went from her hips to her belly and caressed it as she tilted her head back so we could kiss.
My cock slipped out of her as we were kissing and my hands migrated up to cup her tits. As she turned toward me, still kneeling on the couch, my hands went from her tits to her ass and her arms went around my neck. We made out for a few minutes until she had to move off of the couch as my cum started running out of her pussy and down the inside of her thighs.
“Stains on the couch cushions might give us away,” she laughed as she reached for a nearby box of Kleenex. She handed me a couple then started cleaning herself up as I did the same. She took the Kleenex to the bathroom and flushed them then closed the door I assumed to clean herself up further. I gathered up my clothes while I waited for her, thinking that, at the very least, I should be ready if I needed to take off abruptly since it was getting late.
“Have to go?” she asked as she returned and saw me getting dressed.
“I don’t know,” I replied, “Do I?”
“Probably,” she confirmed, “though I wish you didn’t.”
“Well, I’m on break all week,” I told her, “I’d like to see you as much as possible.”
“Even if that means sneaking around in the dead of night?” she asked.
“Whatever it takes,” I assured her, taking her in my arms and kissing her. We held each other for a few minutes before both getting dressed. She went upstairs and checked quickly to confirm that the coast was clear then called for me. She walked out the back door with me in case her parents were on their way; she wouldn’t want them pulling up as I was walking down the front walk. As we stood on the back deck saying good-bye, I noticed another door.
“Is that from the garage?” I asked, pointing to it.
“Yes,” she replied, “so we’d see their headlights if they were to pull in while we’re standing here, but you wouldn’t want to pass that door as you made your escape.”
“Actually, I was thinking that, if your parents are sound sleepers, we could rendezvous in the garage in the dead of night.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she said, “It wouldn’t be the ideal spot but given a choice of that or nothing, I’m sure we can make it work and the risk of anyone finding out would be minimal.”
So we agreed that, the next night, I would come by at 11:30pm, which would be 90 minutes after her parents typically went to bed. The first thing I’d check would be that there was not light in their bedroom window, then I’d come around to the garage door. If Becky was already in there, she’d have the lamp on her father’s workbench turned on, otherwise I’d wait outside until she turned it on. With our plan in place, I really needed to take off so we wouldn’t get caught and make it even more difficult to see each other. The next night, however, things went smoothly.
She was already in the garage when I showed up, wearing a nightgown and robe. As I held her and we made out, I could feel as I caressed her ass that she was not wearing panties. My cock was growing rigid, but because of her belly, she wasn’t able to feel it against her. She did reach down, though, and find that I was nearly ready to go, but I wasn’t planning to fuck her right away.
“I’m going to eat your pussy then I’m going to fuck you,” I whispered in her ear.
“Then I’m going to suck your cock and swallow your cum,” she replied.
Fortunately her parents’ garage-kept cars were clean so she sat up on the trunk of the closest one and leaned back against the rear window with her feet on the bumper. I pushed her nightgown up as her robe hung open until her trim brown bush was visible below her baby bump. After kissing along her smooth inner thighs, I ran my tongue up her slit and tasted the abundant juices she was producing. She moaned softly and ran her fingers through my hair as I lapped at her slit before slipping a finger into her snug pussy. I focused on licking and sucking her clit while sliding my finger in and out, knowing that it was not going to take much before she was cumming. Although the risk of being discovered was minimal, we still felt it would be unwise to spend too much time indulging ourselves; we just couldn’t afford that luxury.
Her breathing rate was picking up as she tried to keep her moaning stifled while her pussy just grew wetter and more engorged. I wasn’t surprised this time when she came very quickly and, obviously, quite intensely. I continued licking, sucking and fingering until she let out a long sigh, then slipped my finger free and straightened up. I had been thinking about her just staying on the trunk and slipping my cock into her, but she hopped down immediately and started to open my jeans. Once she had my cock extracted and had pumped it in her hand a couple of times, she turned around and started to hike up her nightgown and robe. I pushed my jeans and underwear down a little bit further then took the hems of both of her garments and raised them until her ass was exposed.
She laid her head on her arms on the trunk of the car as I guided my cock into her pussy from behind, a soft gasp escaping her as my full length slipped in. Holding her hips and looking down at her ass, I started to slowly slide my cock in and out of her but, again knowing that we didn’t have time to indulge, I was fucking her hard and fast pretty quickly. Her ass jiggled just a bit each time my hips slapped against it and I noted that one of her hands crept down between her legs. I’d have stimulated her clit myself but, since she was taking care of it, I moved my hands up to cup her swinging tits.
Since she’d said that she was going to suck my cock and swallow my load, I was planning to fuck her hard and fast until I was on the verge, then let her finish me off. With her apparent natural proclivity for fast, easy orgasms, and her fingers helping the cause, she ended up cumming a lot sooner than I was ready. I continued to fuck her as her body was trembling but, once she’d finished cumming, she straightened up and my cock slipped out of her. She smiled and gave me a quick kiss before hunkering down in front of me and taking my cock in her fist. She pumped it a few times before wrapping her lips around it and inhaling my shaft. It was my turn to gasp as her hot mouth engulfed my tool and her lips started to slide up and down it while she pumped the base.
I’d been feeling the stirrings of my orgasm when she’d cum and fucking her hotter, wetter pussy had continued to bring it on. As she sucked my cock, my orgasm was immediately surging again and, though I had enough time to savor the building pleasure, my cock was soon swelling even more as I approached the verge. When I exploded into her mouth, she continued to suck and pump my cock until she was certain that I was completely spent. When she finally let it fall from her mouth and smiled up at me, I reached down to help her stand.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“No, thank you,” I replied.
We held each other for another few minutes before we knew that I needed to go. Over the next several days, we had equally successful trysts in the garage and she managed to sneak in a few phone calls during which we discussed them. I would have been perfectly content to keep up with this routine until I had to head back to school, though my preference would have been for something longer and more relaxed, but another opportunity presented itself. Becky waited until the last minute to tell me just in case it fell through, but her parents had another event to attend on the Saturday night before I would be heading back to school. Because Becky had been so compliant during the week, which was mainly due to her not being sexually frustrated, they were comfortable with leaving her alone again.
I’d become adept at sneaking around her house, so I was even more cautious on that Saturday night in case this ended up being a test of some kind for her. She let me in through the garage since I’d become so familiar with that entrance. We embraced and made out briefly before she gleefully led me into the house.
“We’re going to my bedroom this time,” she explained, “because I want you in my bed and I want to look into your eyes while you’re fucking me.”
I loved that she said “fucking” instead of “making love to” or “having sex with.”
I followed her through the house and up the stairs, failing to keep my hands off her sweet ass as she ascended ahead of me. In her bedroom, we stood beside her bed.
“I’m going to undress you, then I’m going to undress for you,” she told me, “then I’m going ride your cock.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her take-charge demeanor and was perfectly okay with letting her determine our course of action. I had also done plenty of thinking about things that I wanted to do, however, so I wasn’t going to hesitate to make sure we did what I wanted to do, as well. We made out again as she started to work my shirt up and I kicked off my sneakers. She backed up slightly to get my shirt over my head, then let it drop to the floor and started to open my jeans. My cock was already rigid as she slipped her hand into my jeans to massage it before dropping to her knees and working them down. She helped me to step out of my jeans as my cock was threatening to burst out of my tighty-whities. With my jeans cast aside, she massaged my throbbing cock through my underwear then started to slide them down, allowing it to spring out.
As she slid my underwear down and helped me step out of them, she brought her face close to my throbbing cock and stuck her tongue out to lick the head. Once my underwear were dealt with and I was standing naked before her, she briefly pumped my cock in her fist while licking the head before standing up. She had me lay on her bed, propped up on her pillows so I could watch as she stripped down for me. Climbing up on the bed, she stood over me wearing a very cute dress which I quickly learned wasn’t the only thing she was wearing. She lifted the hem and showed off a pair of sexy bikini panties which would have made my cock rigid if it hadn’t been already. She rubbed the front of the panties while almost directly over my head, then turn and lifted the back of the dress to show me her ass. I wanted to just yank her panties down and have her sit on my cock, but she had moved to the end of the bed then turned to face me again.
She raised the front of her dress again, this time high enough to expose a sexy bra that matched her panties. Holding the hem against her chest with her chin, she cupped and caressed her tits through her bra, tugging on her hard nipples, then ran her hands over her protruding belly. She rubbed the front of her panties again then apparently decided she couldn’t wait any longer and started pushing her panties down. As I gazed at her trim bush, she was kicking her panties aside while pulling the dress up over her head. Left wearing only her bra, she quickly shed that, as well.
“I had these visions of doing a sexy striptease for you,” she explained as she lowered herself to her knees over my cock, “but I just want your cock too much.”
I moved the pillows and adjusted myself so that I was lying flat rather than sitting propped up. She moaned long and loud once she’d guided my cock to her pussy and dropped down on it. I moaned as well, feeling how hot and wet her pussy was as it engulfed my throbbing tool. She sat for a moment, feeling it filling her snug pussy, before starting to slowly move up and down on it. My hands, of course, went right to her tits and caressed the soft, smooth flesh and her hard nipples. After nearly a week of rushed encounters in a chilly garage, lying on her soft, warm bed with her looming over me and no real risk of being interrupted was idyllic, though I considered any opportunity to have my cock buried in her pussy to be pretty sweet regardless of the situation.
I was able to just lie there, enjoying her tits and the feel of her pussy, while she experimented a bit until she determined which type of movement on my cock apparently provided her with the most pleasure. Once she’d made that determination, she started riding me harder and faster, pursuing her first of presumably many orgasms. I did find it amusing that, after claiming that she wanted to look into my eyes while fucking me, her eyes were actually closed as she rode my cock. I was okay with that, though, since I was taking the opportunity to visually as well as physically explore her body. Knowing that I was going back to school the following day, I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I got another opportunity to see her naked so I was absorbing every visible detail while I had the chance.
It was no surprise, though it still did please me, when she let out a cry and her entire body began to tremble as she came. She slowed down as she enjoyed the waves of pleasure washing over her but, once her orgasm had apparently run its course, she went right back to riding me hard and fast again. I was savoring the feel of her now wetter and more engorged pussy sliding up and down my tool, though I was in no immediate danger of cumming yet myself. Though not bored with her tits, I did run my hands around to caress her ass while watching her tits bouncing as she continued riding me hard. After she came a second time not long after the first, she slowed down a bit and opened her eyes finally.
“I’m not sure if there are any other positions where we can still make eye contact,” she said, finally making eye contact, “so I hope you’re not getting bored.”
“Although I’m not even remotely bored,” I replied, “I do have an idea for another position.”
She was game so I had her climb off of me and we traded places. Grabbing the pillows I’d cast aside earlier, I had her lift her ass up off the bed and wedged them under her. With her ass up off the bed, I was able to kneel between her spread legs and guide my cock back into her hot, slippery pussy. As I hooked her legs over my arms and started to thrust in and out of her, she was cupping her tits and caressing her hard nipples with a smile on her face. She was clearly pleased with this option and I certainly had no qualms about it myself. Her pussy was still snug and slick and I could look down and watch my cock sliding in and out of it. Of course in this position she started out initially maintaining eye contact, though I realized that she was starting to get a faraway look the longer I fucked her, so I didn’t feel bad about dropping my gaze down to my cock, shiny with her juices.
She ran her hands down from her tits to the curve of her belly, caressing it briefly before one hand found its way to her clit and caressed that instead. The smile and faraway look were giving way to a passionate expression that indicated she was experiencing some intense pleasure. This made me feel very good that I was able to provide this level of pleasure to her. My attention was also drawn to her tits, which were bouncing with my thrusting now. As I thought about how much I wanted to lick and suck her nipples it occurred to me that, being pregnant, she might actually be producing milk. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the idea of actually breastfeeding off of her. Before I spent much time contemplating it, Becky let out a cry of pleasure and started to tremble again. I continued fucking her while savoring the increased lubrication in her already slick and snug pussy.
“I want to suck your cock,” she said once she’d finished cumming and was catching her breath.
“Can I eat your pussy at the same time?” I asked, since I hadn’t yet that night.
“I don’t think I’m too big to sixty-nine yet,” she replied, rubbing her belly as I slipped out of her.
“You want the top or bottom?” I asked.
“Top,” she replied, so we repositioned with me on my back and her on all-fours over me. As she grasped the base of my cock, I was gazing up at her trim, brown bush, admiring it before devouring it. She pumped my cock a couple of times before wrapping her lips around it and sliding them down as far as she could. I moaned, relishing the pleasure of her hot mouth, before reaching up to run my hands over her smooth ass and jutting out my tongue to lick her slit. She moaned herself in response to my tongue, though that wasn’t necessarily the reason that I started licking her more vigorously. I did want to pleasure her, obviously, but tasting her pussy again just made me want to taste it more and more. I lapped up the juices that were flowing from her as I caressed her ass before bringing one of my hands down to slip a finger into her. It slid in easily and I started pumping it while licking and sucking her clit.
We were both enthusiastically devouring each other, our moans filling the room, and it just remained to be seen who would cum first. Of course I don’t think either of us was surprised when it ended up being Becky. I could feel her snug pussy become even more engorged around my pumping finger and continued to lick her even as she started to shake. She briefly ceased sucking my cock as she let out a cry of pleasure, which was fine with me as I was still focused on eating her sweet young pussy. When she finally stopped cumming, she moved off of me while breathing very heavily.
“You’re too good to me,” she finally said, positioning herself beside me, “but I want to make you cum now.”
She wrapped her lips around my tool again and I watched as it was fully engulfed in her mouth. It felt incredible but it was also extremely arousing to watch. I also had a nice side view of her naked body as she knelt beside me so I admired the curve of her ass and belly and her dangling tits as she bobbed her head up and down. I was certain that she was employing all of her skills in drawing out my pleasure this time because I can’t believe that I was able to last as long as I did and the levels of pleasure were incredibly intense. I would have been perfectly happy to savor both the pleasure and the stimulating view for much longer, but eventually I did reach the point where I was on the verge of cumming. When I exploded into her mouth with a moan of pleasure, she swallowed my load and continued nursing my cock until I had nothing left to give. Once she let my cock fall from my mouth, she moved around to lay with me.
Chapter 6 — Settling down, heating up.
I lazed in bed, trying to indulge in a few more minutes of doing not much of anything. I was 12 weeks and 1 day pregnant; Keiji and I had an appointment with the perinatologist for a nuchal translucency test in an hour. My first trimester blood work showed no cause for concern, but I was still a bit nervous. I couldn’t wait to see the baby again, to see him or her moving, to have proof of the cause of my frequent toilet rendezvous.
Keiji was circling the room, scowling.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“My stupid deodorant. Maybe I forgot to pack it,” he grumbled. He rummaged in his backpack again.
“You can use some of mine,” I offered. “Maybe it’s time for you to get a second set of everything? Or your own drawer or something? You’re here a lot.”
“I don’t know if I want to go my interview smelling like–” he paused to read my deodorant’s label “‘Ooh-la-la lavender.’ Where do they come up with this shit?”
“I don’t know, it was on sale,” I laughed. “But I’m serious. Can you sublet your place? My house is closer to your office anyway.”
“My office? I haven’t gotten the job yet,” he said, rubbing the stick on his armpits.
“Keiji, it’s a third interview. They love your work. You have years of experience. Don’t fart and you’re a shoe-in,” I said, swinging my feet to the floor. He paused to watch me, an admiring look on his face. “Ugh, come on, I look like the pregnant Bride of Frankenstein right now.” I patted my bed head and looked down at my heavy breasts and protruding belly.
“I always thought she was kind of sexy. Um. But. Are you serious? I mean about me moving in?”
“Of course I’m serious. What, were we all going to move into the loft? Or shuffle the baby back and forth? You can have nights, how’s that sound?” I walked to the closet and started searching for the day’s outfit. He smirked.
“I was sort of waiting for you to raise the issue. Didn’t want to uh, invite myself over or anything. Can you help me button these cuffs?” he asked, holding his arms out stiffly. It was the first time I had seen Keiji in a plain, white shirt. He hadn’t cut his hair since we met and it was long enough now to brush his collar. As usual, I thought he looked thoroughly fuckable. I laid my clothes down on the bed and crossed the room to him, going to work on the tiny buttons. When I finished I pressed my naked body against him, regretful that we had slept in too late to leave time for any morning recreation.
“I think we’re past the point of you needing an invitation,” I murmured, caressing the semi-erection I had raised. “Are you coming back here after you’re done today?”
“Um,” he said, swaying on his feet a bit. Then he laughed and took a step back from me. “I can’t think when you do that. I have to stop by my place and get a few supplies, but yes. I can come over if you want.”
“I want. Hm. Where would you work here? There’s this room, Evan’s, the guest room which I had pegged for the nursery…maybe the attic? It’s got a window, with pretty good light. We’d have to get some A/C up there for you, though.”
“Artists are inspired by harsh conditions,” he said, jutting his chin in the air as he knotted his tie. I smiled and started getting dressed.
“Well, I’m no artist. I’ve already got a caffeine-withdrawal headache and I can’t stand it. Can you start the coffee?” I’d weaned myself to a cup a day, but I absolutely needed that cup.
We must have been in luck because we didn’t spend forty-five minutes in the waiting room. Although he put on a calm face for anything concerning the baby, I could tell Keiji was nervous as he flipped through the folder he’d created for his interview. He was pursuing a design position at a small ad agency; it would be a creatively demanding job and the clients were hip up-and-comers. I grasped his hand, shooting him a small smile.
“Cara Brennan?” a voice called. I looked up and saw a pretty woman in purple scrubs. She smiled as we approached her. “Hi, my name is Inés. I’ll be your ultrasound technician today. Is this your first ultrasound?”
“No, we’ve been in before for a dating exam,” I said.
“Okay, so you know the drill. This time it won’t be transvaginal, though.”
“That’s a relief,” I said. The last time Keiji had been alternately impressed and disconcerted by what he termed “the dildo cam.”
“And you are Daddy?” she asked, addressing Keiji.
“Yes,” he said, with a shy grin. “Still getting used to that.” She smiled back.
“It takes a little while, even if you were expecting it.”
She led us into a dim exam room. Keiji helped me lay down on the table while Inés entered my information into the ultrasound machine.
“Okay, let’s see your baby,” she said. I pulled up my shirt and she tucked a towel around the waistband of my pants. She squirted warm gel on my belly and placed the wand on top, gooing me up. Keiji and I watched a small screen mounted on the wall, enraptured. At first I could only make out a foggy image of my uterus; Inés changed the angle of the wand and suddenly there was a spine filling the screen. She laughed.
“Looks like we’re getting a cold shoulder. C’mon kiddo, cooperate.” She pressed the wand into my abdomen a bit. Suddenly, the baby flipped on its side — a much bigger and more deliberate movement than we had seen a month ago with the wee gummy bear. Keiji gasped.
“Did you feel that?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said, still watching the screen. Now I could see a beating heart. Inés documented the heart rate and let us listen; it was just as mesmerizing at the first time. Then she zoomed in on the baby’s head and neck.
“What a cutie,” she said.
“That is one adorable cranium,” Keiji agreed. I laughed, jiggling the image.
“Hey, hold still. Same goes for you, Baby. I’m going to start taking nuchal measurements now,” Inés scolded.
“What exactly do these measurements show, again?” I asked. I hadn’t had this scan with Evan.
“Well, since you are ‘advanced maternal age,’ haha, sorry, you have an increased risk for chromosomal abnormalities. Measuring the soft tissues in the baby’s neck can help us identify if there is a problem in combination with the first trimester blood tests,” Inés explained.
The room got quiet as she took still photos of the baby and measured the relevant parts. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until she spoke again.
“Looks good to me. I’ll send the results to the doctor and he’ll be in shortly. But before that, I’ll take a look at the rest of the baby and get you a few pictures.”
“Can you tell the sex yet?” I asked her.
“No!” Keiji cried.
“I don’t want to know!”
“Well, it’s hard to tell at this point anyway,” Inés said, grinning.
“You seriously don’t want to find out?” I asked.
“No way! Don’t ruin the surprise!” he said, shaking his head emphatically.
“Oh my gosh, Keiji,” I grumbled, not really put out but still taken aback by his strong opinion. Inés was amused.
“I have lots of couples who are split on this issue. If I see you guys at your next ultrasound, around 18 weeks or so, I can put the results in an envelope for you and you can open it later. Or not. But be warned, if one person knows it’s a really tough secret to keep.”
Inés took several photos of the baby for us; a hand (SO cute!), a profile shot, the spine, a full body shot, and a frontal picture of the face that Keiji said reminded him of the Terminator.
“Don’t compare your baby to a merciless robot of death,” I laughed.
“It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear,” he quoted. Inés’s laughter joined mine.
“Yeah, that sounds like a newborn baby to me all right. Here are your pictures,” she said, handing me the roll of paper from the ultrasound machine. As she left us in the room alone we pored over the photos together.
“I can’t believe how different things are in just a month — like a complete, tiny person already. Look at the five fingers, so amazing,” he said, lightly touching the photo.
“I know. Just wait until they’re pulling your hair.”
After the doctor confirmed that the baby looked “perfectly healthy,” I dropped Keiji off at his interview, made plans to pick him up at his place around six, and continued to my office. Even though it was still early on, I had already told my coworkers about the pregnancy. My belly was unmistakable, no sense in beating around the bush. I was preparing my team for my maternity leave and shifted control of several clients over to my most reliable managers. After his initial discomfort, Adam became quite friendly, even stopping in with small treats for me now and then — Preggie Pops (“My sister said these are great!”), chocolates, etc. I didn’t want to encourage anything inappropriate but I always thanked him. It was far better to be on good terms.
I texted Keiji during the middle of the day to ask about the interview; he replied back, “Paint.” This meant he was working on a piece, in the zone, but it could also mean that he was putting my question off on purpose. I hoped he had good news. Before we discussed him moving in with me he brought up the need for a stable job. His proceeds from his independent commissions were enough to get him by, but he wasn’t able to save much and income was sporadic. I agreed, gently encouraging him to get in touch with his old advertisement contacts. In spite of the rough economy his reputation and portfolio landed him a few bites.
Before I left the office I called Evan to see if he wanted to join Keiji and I for a Friday night dinner out. He’d been super busy with drama commitments and a week full of tests. He was still a bit stiff with both of us, but as time passed and he saw Keiji outside of his old context he seemed to be coming around. Evan picked the place — a favorite pizza joint — and I told him I’d see him in a little less than an hour. First I drove to Keiji’s; he saved me the hassle of finding a parking space by waiting on the street, portfolio under his arm and pack on his back. He was still wearing his white shirt, but had lost the tie, undone several buttons, and switched the suit jacket for a black fleece. I popped the trunk and he stashed his stuff, then slid into the passenger’s seat blowing into his hands to warm them. He looked tired and there was a splotch of grey paint in his hair.
“So? You’re killing me here,” I said as I pulled away from the curb. He looked away, then back at me. My heart sank. I knew he was up against at least two other people. Well, at least there were the other positions to look into…
“I got it,” he said, breaking into a smile, very pleased with his deception.
“Oh my god, no way! I mean, I believe it, but no way! That’s wonderful!” I gushed, bouncing in my seat.
“I start on Monday,” he said, noticing the paint in the vanity mirror and trying to scrape it out of his hair.
“Wow, so soon?”
“Yeah. It’s a small place and they could really use the extra hands. It’s funny, my first client is a concert hall I designed handbills for a few years back.”
“Cool. So what do you think made them say yes? I mean, besides being hard up for an amazing artist such as yourself?” He chuckled and shook his head.
“The lavender deodorant.”
“You really want to know?” he said, giving me a funny look.
“Yes! Now you’re weirding me out.”
“I think my new boss uh, likes me.”
“Well of course he likes you, you’re hired aren’t you?”
“Cara, I’m pretty sure Lev is gay.”
“Ohhh. Wow, some guys just have all the luck,” I said, shooting him a dry glance. “Why do you think he likes you?”
“Um, you know, the usual things,” he replied, embarrassed. “He laughed at things I said that weren’t all that funny. He touched me a few times that weren’t necessary, like not business handshakes. He complimented me on my clothes, my hair, stuff that straight guys don’t notice.”
“Maybe he’s just extremely friendly and stylish?”
“Maybe. But. I’ve sort of, you know, been through this stage before with people.”
“Hmm. Yeah. I guess you have,” I said. “As long as he knows you’re not on the market.” He smiled and shook his head.
“He took me out for lunch after the interview and I told him about you, about my motivation for going back to a day job. I don’t think it’s going to be an issue between us, assuming he can keep things professional. Anyway.” He seemed so uncomfortable — unlike himself– that I decided to let it drop. We were almost to my place anyway.
When we pulled up Evan came running out of the house in a t-shirt and ripped jeans. It was 41 degrees Fahrenheit.
“What the–?” I began.
“Don’t get on him about that,” Keiji whispered. He had been super-extra-special nice to Evan, painstakingly so, without trying to buddy up to him. He knew he was on probation with my son and why.
Evan opened the back door of the sedan and hopped in, buckling his seatbelt at light speed.
“I’m starving, let’s go!”
“Yes, master,” I intoned. I thought that would be it for conversation, but Evan surprised me.
“How did your interview go?” he asked, leaning forward in Keiji’s direction.
“Oh! Um, I’m in. I start on Monday,” Keiji said, sounding as surprised as I felt.
“That’s great, man. Very cool.” Evan sat back and pulled out his phone; Keiji and I relaxed at this more typical behavior.
“Thanks, Evan,” Keiji said, shooting me a Look. How ’bout that?
We had a pleasant dinner. After we told Evan about the ultrasound the baby was officially dubbed Arnold. Keiji described his new coworkers and some of his job responsibilities. I talked about what a relief it was to downgrade some of my responsibilities, and mentioned that we ought to start thinking about car seats, cribs, et. al. I expected Keiji’s eyes to glaze over but he seemed more excited than me. Evan mumbled a few lines about the troupe’s progress with Julius Caesar but his main focus was six slices of pepperoni, black olives, and extra cheese. He also fielded what seemed like ten times as many text messages.
Keiji’s phone buzzed as we were waiting for the check. He looked down, saw the number, and a dark expression clouded his face. He ended the call with a frown and shoved the phone in his pocket.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“Mm, nothing,” he said, rolling his eyes toward Evan (who was thankfully so absorbed in his own phone that he didn’t notice).
“Was it your mom?”
“No, Cara. It was nobody.” I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to protest that “nobody” wouldn’t elicit that reaction. I was loathe to bring anything up in front of Evan, but I knew and Keiji knew that he had some ‘splainin’ to do.
We paid and headed to the car. Keiji was subdued; I felt worried. First the weird vibes about Lev, the new boss, and now “nobody” calling him at dinner. I had spent most of our relationship asking very little about Keiji’s past, at first feeling that it didn’t matter to me as long as he was dedicated to our relationship, but it was becoming harder and harder to for me to ignore. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones but I suddenly felt insecure.
Once inside the house, Evan headed upstairs to his room, probably for a few more hours of hardcore texting.
“Don’t stay up too late, Ev,” I called.
“Never!” he yelled back. I heard the bathroom door close and the shower start. I turned and saw Keiji setting his portfolio down on the dining room table. He met my eyes and smiled, but he knew something was up.
“Wanna go upstairs?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “You coming?” I remembered my feelings for him this morning, my anticipation of him being here tonight, and wondered how I could feel so different now.
“Of course, I just have to go to the bathroom. Be there in two minutes.” I nodded and walked upstairs to the master bedroom. I took off my work clothes and put on a rather dowdy maternity nightgown — light blue, flannel, long. I sat on the bed and pulled my knees against my body. He came in and I watched as he emptied his pockets on my dresser and stripped down to his boxers. He paused, looking wary.
“Why do I feel like I have to ask if I can sit next to you?”
“You don’t, don’t be silly. Come on,” I said, patting the spot next to me. He got in under the covers and laid down, his hands behind his head. He looked at me, expectant. I thought of everything I knew about him — his words of love, support, and encouragement; his honest actions with me, my son, and his family; his inspiring art; his beautiful body — and about everything I didn’t. I thought about what Evan said to me about him, what Sachi said, what Takako said. I understood their judgment of Keiji’s sexual behavior — I wasn’t completely inexperienced but I didn’t have his kind of history, not by a long shot. I was mystified, intrigued, and a little scared. On the other hand I felt he was misunderstood; he hadn’t treated me like a flavor of the month, as Evan predicted, or been such an unsuited match for me, as Sachi thought, and he hadn’t put himself first, as Takako said he “always” did. But there was that old voice inside of me asking, What if he gets bored? You are boring, Cara. You always have been. What if this baby is the most interesting thing about you? What’s to keep him beyond that? Although surely a baby wasn’t a temporary amusement, I might be. Right?
All of these thoughts went through my head in the space of a second. I took a deep breath and let it out, closed my eyes.
“Keiji, who is nobody?” He sighed and I opened my eyes. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Nobody is Rachel. We went out about four times back in ’06. We had sex; it didn’t really happen for us beyond that. But she’s persistent. She calls me a few times a year. I don’t know if she’s bored or if she’s drunk dialing or what. I don’t answer the calls.”
I chewed on this for a minute, thinking of mentioning the most obvious reason she’d be calling him — hell, why I would call him if I got lonely or bored or horny — but decided to keep on task.
“Are there lots of Rachels?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are there more women out there who have the wrong idea about you? Or your relationship with them?”
“Hm,” he said, considering the ceiling before making eye contact with me again. “No. Rachel is the only one. I’m not saying I didn’t make mistakes, especially when I was younger. I feel bad about some things I’ve done, some people I didn’t treat with enough respect or I lead them to believe I was more into them than I actually was. I was immature, I didn’t know how to handle attention from women. I was a naive kid from the suburbs. I was a jerk. College freaked me out for awhile there.”
“No, it’s — I’m not like that anymore. Like I said, I don’t know why she’s calling me. I definitely didn’t give her a reason to believe I was still interested. We had what I thought was a clear parting of ways — I said, hey, you know, nothing personal but I’m not feeling any chemistry, she agreed with me, we shook hands, the whole thing. It wasn’t nasty. She’s changed her number a few times, just to keep me guessing, maybe? I don’t know if she’s gone over the deep end since we dated or what.” He went back to rubbing his nose, looking pained.
“Keiji, I’m not trying to make this into a waterboarding session or anything. I just…” I trailed off, knowing I had asked this question before in different ways, but that I had to be more direct if I wanted to put my full trust in him. “I didn’t know about Rachel. I don’t know why you were so uncomfortable with me asking you about your new boss. This whole part of your life is just missing, at least to me. What else don’t I know about you?”
“I wish you wouldn’t worry about it, but I understand why you’re asking,” he said, holding my eyes with his. “I have never had sex at a graveyard, farm, or daycare center. So there’s that.”
“Ha. But middle schools are okay?”
“Hey, that was the teacher’s lounge. Totally different. Eighteen and over only. Um, but seriously. I spent a long time, a long time having sex with almost anyone who was willing to do it. And I’ve asked myself a lot, since I met you, why I was doing that. I mean, yes, it was fun. Of course it was fun. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy doing it, but it was this constant lifestyle of shallow connections, surrounded by acquaintances, but feeling entirely on my own. As much as people saw me as this playboy party guy, never slowin’ down or whatever–” he curled his lip as he said this, “–it gets old. But I didn’t know how to break out of the pattern. I know I’ve told you I’ve been in love before. But it was only once. I think I was with so many people because I was trying to recapture that feeling. But it never happened again. It was usually really apparent that most people were interested in sex and that was it.”
“Looking for love in all the wrong places?” I suggested gently.
“I guess. That’s what I meant about being immature. I jumped first, physically, and then waited for a connection. So guess how often that happened? I thought it did twice before, but no, not really — and they ended things with me before I figured it out. The only time it’s actually worked out for me was with you.”
“And what about that other woman, the one you loved?”
“Um, yeah. That was very different. I was a kid, really, but we were close for a long time. Craig was my next door neighbor, we grew up together.” He stopped here to make sure I had heard him correctly. It was funny, but I didn’t feel all that surprised — and it explained his unease during our conversation about Lev. He was probably worried I was going to grill him about his gaydar.
“Craig,” I repeated. “That’s not like A Boy Named Sue in reverse, is it?”
“No. Craig is gay. He’s a studio engineer and touring musician now.” I saw that his hands were shaking and took one to hold. “Sorry. I haven’t told anyone else about him before. People always just assume, you know. It’s easier not to correct them.”
“Yeah, I know. I assumed. Don’t apologize. So, are you bisexual?” I rubbed his hand, trying to relax him as he always did for me.
“Non-practicing? I’ve sort of been too scared to ever um, try to get with a guy. Like if that was disappointing, too, I was probably just hopeless.” He blew out a shuddering breath.
“Why didn’t things work out with him?”
“I think it was just growing up and away from each other. He’s brilliant, really. He got a scholarship, went to Stanford, double majored in Music and Literature. I went to school here. At first we tried to stay in touch but it was hard, he was crazy busy, he formed his band, they started touring. So it goes.”
“Do you still love him?” He nodded, his eyes closed, the corners of his mouth working. I saw his lashes were damp.
“Don’t worry about it, though. We haven’t spoken in almost a decade. I think he’s married to a guy he met at Stanford. I don’t know, he never bothered to tell me. Just heard it through the grapevine. He’s still living in the San Francisco area as far as I know,” he said, his voice thick. I felt like crying now, too.
“I’m sorry. His family, do they still live next door?”
“Yeah, they do. But I think they suspected something, they’re not very friendly to me or my parents. They don’t have a good relationship with Craig. My parents have no idea, my sister has no idea. You’re it,” he said, opening his eyes again. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this revelation. It didn’t change my feelings for him or make me uncomfortable. If anything, I was relieved. The truth seemed both more complex and simpler than the story I had written about him in my head.
“Keiji, I’m not upset,” I assured him. He nodded, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. “That was brave.” He laughed weakly, shaking his head.
“I don’t know about that. If I’m so brave I should probably be wearing a glitter thong in a pride parade or something.”
“That’s not for everyone.”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
“Thank you for telling me. I’m naive too, in a lot of ways. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Dated the wrong guys, the same type of guy. They weren’t bad people, they just had different goals than I did. Different things made them happy. I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I care about you so much, but I kept feeling unsure because I didn’t understand where you were coming from, where you want to go. I feel like you want to have this baby as much as I do, but after that? What are we doing?”
“I want to be with you. I want to raise our child. Maybe have another baby.” He reached over to caress my belly.
“Oh my gosh, can we see how this one goes first?” I said, laughing. “I meant, are we compatible? Do we have the same desires for our lives?”
“What do you want? Are we talking five years, ten years, the rest of it?”
“I guess all of it. Where do you see yourself? Am I there? What are we doing?”
“I see myself taking this job and building it into a career. Obviously hoping the economy doesn’t tank again. I’d still like to take independent commissions and work for myself. Maybe if I have an opportunity or meet the right people I could open my own design studio. I want to be more of a contributor so you don’t have to rely on your job so much. I know you’re not a big fan.”
“Well, no, I’m not. But it doesn’t make me miserable. I’m good at it. The pay is good.”
“True. But I want you to have the option to do something else and not worry about having to support a starving artist or whatever. I see us in this house, or maybe getting a place together. I see us taking family vacations, eating dinner together. I see Evan graduating and going to a great school for acting.”
“That sounds so nice. Wonderful, even. But do you feel like you’re giving up anything for all of that? Or that you would grow bored, or stifled? What about when things don’t go according to plan? Are you going to regret, you know, settling down?”
“I think. That as long as I have you and as long as I can still make art, I’m not settling for anything. I can’t imagine life getting any better.”
I was silent as I considered his words. He put his head on my shoulder and played with my fingers. I kept waiting to feel shocked by what he had told me. I heard the shrill voice inside of me demanding that I be outraged, demanding more detail — how many women, exactly, had he slept with? Had he seen or talked to anyone else since he had been with me? Would he leave me if Craig came back into his life? Did he love him more than me? How could I possibly believe that someone with scores of women, hundreds of women in his past could be happy with me? But when I listened to that voice I felt like I was going mad. Most of those questions I didn’t even care about, or were irrational. When I listened to Keiji, I felt quiet, at peace. I had grown used to this feeling. I was tired of that other voice, of the negativity, the distraction, the avoidance, the fear.
With a physical shake of my head I shut it off. He raised his head to look at me.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I know that was kind of a lot. Er. Scratch that, I just vomited an entire sad diary of drama everywhere. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, please. Don’t apologize for any of it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry for not taking the time before to sit down and ask. Like you’d just be all, ‘Hey, so about that time I fell in love with a guy.’ And I hadn’t volunteered anything about my past, apart from Evan and Reed, or what I wanted from my life.”
“I don’t know if people formally do that, like, oh, let’s discuss our horribly dysfunctional childhoods and how this will affect the bullet points on our five year plan.”
“Ugh, we do it at my firm during every performance evaluation. Well, not the horribly dysfunctional childhoods. But as for outside of work — maybe adults do do things like that? I feel like I’ve been acting like a nervous kid most of my life. It wasn’t until I met you that I felt like things could be different. In spite of the um, inauspicious beginning we had.”
“Inauspicious in some ways, yes. But in others…” He went back to caressing my belly. “I can’t wait to feel this baby kick. I couldn’t believe it when I saw that flip. Like an acrobat.”
“Oof, just wait. You’ll feel it. I’ll feel it even more.”
We sat quietly together some moments more; relaxed, at ease with one another again. I enjoyed his touch and responded by running my fingers through his hair.
“Are you going to cut this?” I asked, playing with the ends.
“I don’t know, do you like it?”
“I love your hair. So much that I’m jealous. Look at it, so straight and smooth and shiny. You don’t even brush it and it’s always perfect. Actually, I hate you,” I said, pushing at his head.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you’ve got to take out stock in defrizzing products,” he retorted, his caresses turning into tickles. “Maybe I’ll just never cut my hair again, out of spite.”
“Ack, don’t tickle me! I hate that,” I said, laughing in a panicky sort of way and trying to move away.
“You know what I hate? This nightgown,” he said, plucking at the fabric.
“It’s very warm!”
“Yeah. Well. I can think of something that we both love that has the bonus side effect of keeping you warm.”
“Does it involve taking off my nightgown?”
“Definitely,” he said, reaching below the sheets. “Can I help you?”
“I guess,” I said, feigning reluctance. I wasn’t very good at the charade, though, because an idea came to mind. “Keiji?”
“Mm?” He was focused on pulling the gown up; it was to my hips already.
“Lay down on your back, if you would be so kind.” He looked surprised, but did as I asked. “Now scoot down so you’re not so close to the headboard.” He complied again. “A little more. A little more.”
“Cara, my feet are going to hang off the bed if I go any farther,” he complained.
“You’re good now. Stop bitching.” I grasped the hem of my gown and pulled it over my head in one movement. (Always more impressive than fussing with sleeves.)
“Ahh, a huge improvement,” he said, craning his neck to look at me. I tossed the gown on the floor and walked on my knees to the middle of the bed, facing his feet. I straddled him and lowered my body, scooting back so that my crotch was over his face.
“Got the idea?” I asked, speaking to the boxer-clad erection beneath my face. I smiled and appreciated being nearly the same height as him. Instead of answering he put his hands on my hips and pulled me down lower to meet his mouth. My swollen belly rested on his upper chest and my nipples rubbed pleasantly across his abs. As he began to lick the sensitive skin on my inner thighs, I pulled his boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines. It sprang up, insistent, but I ignored it for the moment and bent my upper body a little lower. I dipped my tongue into the cup of his navel and smiled when he sucked in his stomach.
“Now who’s tickling?” he said.
I licked the fine trail of hair leading to his most erogenous zones, enjoying the scent of his skin as it deepened into a muskier smell the lower I went. He wiggled his hips, maybe protesting more tickling, maybe in delight, and went back to work on me. He ran his hands up and down my thighs and around to my ass, grabbing a cheek in each hand. He held me firm as he ran the tip of tongue along my slit, gently parting my lips. I moaned softly and gripped the base of his cock, not sure if I would be able to keep an even pace with him.
I took him in my mouth, sliding down the length of him as far as I could without gagging. He raised his hips upward, seeking more sensation. I pulled back, lightly sucking as I went and dragging my tongue along the underside of him. He moaned against my pussy, the sound causing a light vibration to stimulate my clit. I figured the more of that I could cause, the better. I stroked his cock with my hand a few times, flicking my tongue across his glans to lick up the drops of pre-cum that seeped out. I loved the salty, light taste of him and “mm”ed my appreciation.
Meanwhile, he began to eat me in earnest — with a bit less finesse than usual, it’s true, but I gave him a pass for being distracted. He traced firm circles on my clit with his tongue, letting go of my ass to spread my thighs a bit wider. He penetrated me with two fingers and hooked them against the front wall of my pussy in a “come here” motion. I wasn’t huge on G-spot stimulation but I relished the full feeling inside of me. As delicious as he tasted, I began to yearn to feel his cock in my pussy.
“Can we switch gears a minute?” I asked, pulling away from him. He made a frustrated noise. “I want to ride you.”
“Oh, in that case.”
I turned and straddled him again, this time facing him. I eased my pussy onto his cock, feeling tight but so wet from my lube and his mouth that there was a squishing sensation when I bottomed out. I ground myself into him, using his body to rub my clit as much as possible. I wanted to come on him. I could feel the head of his cock pressing into my cervix; like my nipples, it was so sensitive as to be somewhat painful, but as always the combination of pain-pleasure sensations excited me. I rubbed harder for a second, relishing the feeling, before lifting myself entirely off of him. I sat back down again, loving the feeling of his cock filling me up. I began to fuck myself with a steady pace; he laid still, letting me use him. He reached up to stroke my breasts, tweaking my nipples gently before running his hands down my body and settling them on my thighs. Every few strokes I would stop to push down, the pressure building in my clit until I knew I was on the edge. I gripped his cock with my pussy muscles as tight as I could and dragged the sensation out, slowly sliding up and down. He twitched his hips upward once, biting his lower lip, near the edge of his control.
Finally I couldn’t tease myself anymore. I buried him as deep as possible inside of me and rocked back and forth, gripping the sheets on either side of us for leverage. I cried out as my orgasm overtook me, but it was soon so strong that I could only make low grunting noises in time with each contraction of my pussy. I slipped off of him before I was completely through, my clit almost stinging. I had abused it somewhat with all of the friction from the rubbing. I sat next to him, still swaying a bit through the extraordinary pleasure. When I was finally able to focus on something besides my pussy, I realized he hadn’t come yet.
“Are you serious?” I gasped. He laughed a little.
“It was tough. But I was really enjoying the oral before. I was kinda hoping–”
“Spoiled brat,” I said, not meaning it. He smiled as I bent over his cock. I slurped my tongue around the head, tasting the deep, slightly saline flavor of myself. I felt his cock pulse and rubbed my tongue against him harder. He came in less than ten seconds, three or four thick shots of cum filling my mouth. I swallowed it all and kept licking him, gentle now, not stopping until I was sure he was completely clean. His breathing didn’t slow until I let him pop out of my mouth and laid down next to him on the bed.
“Jesus, what a day,” he said.
“I’m glad you came over tonight.”
“Is it all right if I move in tomorrow? After that I’m pretty sure I want to be here every night.”
“Well, it is Saturday,” I laughed, snugging in against him. “You could get started.”
“Consider it done.”
He fell asleep in less than a minute. As usual it took me longer to drift off, but I had no anxious thoughts to keep me awake. I listened to the sounds of the night outside and the sound of him breathing next to me, and that was all.
Five days later Keiji, Evan, and I crammed my car full of presents, luggage, and ourselves to head up the road one hour to my parents’ home. Keiji and I decided to tell our news in person as we had with his parents; my parents had the benefit of knowing more about our relationship than his had before meeting me. My mom even spoke to him on the phone a couple of times and later remarked to me about his deep voice. We were arriving the day before Christmas Eve — every December 24th my family stuffs themselves with a big pasta dinner. I hoped to give my parents and Keiji some extra time to get to know one another without having to deal with a rowdy festive nog crowd. I was somewhat nervous as my hometown was in a fairly rural, white area and I was the first person in my family to have a relationship with someone outside of my race. I didn’t expect any hostility but I suspected my family might feel awkward, as I had when visiting the Nakamuras. I told my little brother about Keiji over the phone a couple weeks prior to our visit. He paused and asked, in all seriousness, if he should bow to him when they met. I asked him if he usually went around bowing to fellow US citizens. He said he took my point and would stick to a handshake. When I told Keiji he laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m always Asian first, Cara. Almost always. Nationality and humanity come later, if I’m lucky.” It gave me pause as I considered for the first time the feeling of being other, of being different in a sea of sameness. I’d thought about it in an abstract way before, but now that I knew a person who lived that way every day it was much more real to me. And of course, our baby would have a similar experience.
“Okay, so, your father, Ted, is a former school administrator. Do you have any idea how much that scares the shit out of me?” Keiji said, going through a recitation of the facts as I had before meeting the Nakamuras.
“Yeah, knocking up the principal’s daughter. You must have a death wish,” Evan piped up from the back seat. I burst out laughing while Keiji looked pained.
“Do you have a problem with authority figures, Nakamura?” I asked.
“No, I just. Uhh. Is he really stern?”
“He’ll show you his gun cabinet,” Evan chirped again. He was loving this.
“At his schools he was, yes. I used to ask him why he was so mean. But with Casey and me he’s like a big teddy bear. Don’t worry. What else do you know about him?” I said, thinking of his reassurances to me about his family. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with nausea during dinner.
“Ted likes golf and football. Two things I know absolutely nothing about,” he said.
“You’ll learn, because he’s gonna talk your ear off about them. What about Clare?”
“Italian-American, east coast transplant. She works in the school system too, first as front office staff at an elementary school and now at the county Board of Education. She likes baking and cats.”
“Good. And my brother?”
“Casey is four years younger than you. He got married last year to Anne, his high school sweetheart. Works in construction management and likes console video games and surfing. Goes to the beach any chance he gets.”
“Excellent! There’s also going to be my Aunt Rosie, Mom’s sister, and her husband Uncle Jim. Also my two cousins, Laine and Melody. But they’re kinda getting extended so don’t worry too much about the details. Rosie is loud, big, jolly. Laine’s married to Kim, Melody is still single. She’s a pretty redhead. Don’t stare,” I joked. Keiji shook his head.
“And as usual, no one my age. Prepare for maximum boredom,” Evan muttered.
“C’mon, you know Casey always brings over the Nintendo for some vintage gaming marathons. Maybe this year you can help Grandma out with Christmas dinner?” I suggested.
“I’ll do the pizzelle.”
“You always do the pizzelle. I suspect so that you can eat 50% of them before anyone else gets a chance.”
“Gotta get in on a good thing early,” my son said, smacking his lips in anticipation.
“What’s a pizzelle?” Keiji asked. Evan gasped in mock horror.
“A pizzella, singular, is a thin cookie you make in a kind of waffle iron. It has intricate patterns. You can dust it with powdered sugar or fold it into a shape while it’s still hot and stuff it with chocolate or other fillings. I like them best with just sugar,” I explained, pleased to have something to share with him.
“Sounds fattening,” Keiji said.
“The best things in life usually are.”
“You can say that again,” he said, reaching across the console to tap my belly.
“You guys are killing me,” Evan groaned. He slouched down in his seat and fired up his iPod.
My childhood home was about a quarter mile from the road, set back in a clearing surrounded by trees. One could still hear large trucks rumbling the highway just a few acres away, but the woods gave the appearance of protection and seclusion. I always felt calmer coming home. Dad had decorated the house with red velvet bows, lights, and the chintzy 1950s snowman that Mom insisted on hanging onto because it had belonged to my great-grandmother. The house looked cheerful in the deepening twilight.
As soon as we pulled up I heard the yellow lab, Einstein, start barking his fool head off. Dad called him the “welcoming committee” — he sounded fierce but was about as ferocious as a ladybug. Mom and Dad appeared seconds later. They looked the same as always but my heart gave an extra jump of excitement. I hoped they would be happy for us. Keiji shot me a glance and swallowed hard as he grasped the door handle.
Mom ran to the back door of the car, yanking it open and attacking a dozing Evan before he realized we had arrived.
“Whaaa?! Grandma!” he yelped.
“Baby baby baby! My pulcinella! You’re so big!” Mom exclaimed. She said the same thing every time.
“I know, Grandma, I know,” Evan mumbled into her bosom. My mom was pretty in the face and plump in the body; she dyed her hair the same chestnut brown it had been in her youth although I’d been trying to convince her to embrace her natural beauty as she aged. I guessed I’d figure out how it was in a decade or so. She was wearing a Christmas-themed cat sweater that I was pretty sure was unironic. Dad was stocky but fit, an inch shorter than Keiji. He sported a greying Burt Reynolds moustache that matched the shock of grey hair on his head.
I walked over to my father and gave him a tight hug, heedless of my belly. He didn’t seem to notice as he focused on returning my embrace.
“So good to see you, sweetheart,” he said, giving me a bristly kiss. Then he turned to Keiji who was lingering by the side of the car, his arms crossed over his chest. He stuck out one rough, thick-fingered hand and smiled. “Good to meet you, m’man.”
Keiji returned the shake with an admirable grip.
“Nice to meet you too, sir,” he said, returning the smile. Mom had let up on Evan a bit and it was her turn. She walked up to Keiji, openly inspecting him.
“Hmm, I hope you’re ready for a big, big plate of lasagna tomorrow,” she said, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Keiji’s eyes got wide, but he recovered enough to joke back.
“I have a fast metabolism.”
“Ahh, I’ll forgive you, hot stuff,” Mom said, and turned toward me for a hug.
“Cara, are you all ready to eat?” she said, putting her arms around me. Unlike Dad, she felt my bump press into her and pulled back. As she looked down her mouth opened in a shocked “O” and I shhed her fiercely. Dad didn’t notice — he was asking Keiji if he wanted a beer.
“Yes, we are ready to eat. Especially Evan. Let’s go inside. Wait a minute, okay?” I asked, taking her hands in mine and begging her with my eyes. She nodded, her eyes as big as saucers.
Dad lead everyone inside through the side French doors of the ranch-style house. We walked through the living room which showcased a large Christmas tree decked to the nines and into the warm, cinnamon-scented kitchen. There was a breakfast nook with a small round table; Mom had set it with a red and green plaid tablecloth and her second-best china.
“I–I thought I’d save the dining room for tomorrow and Christmas. I hope everyone likes beef stew? I made it with Guinness,” Mom said, recovering enough of her natural buoyancy to keep Dad in the dark.
“Sounds great,” Keiji said with enthusiasm, not realizing that the jig was up. Mom eyed him like he had sprouted antlers and a glowing red nose. Dad took two Killians from the fridge and tossed one to Keiji.
“Sorry I don’t have uh, what is it, Ashi?”
“That’s okay. I’m not really a fan of any one brand,” Keiji said, not bothering to correct him.
Evan practically dove into a chair, causing Dad to chuckle. He took a seat next to his grandson and ruffled his hair. (He and Reed’s father were the only people Evan allowed to do this.) I sat next to Dad and Keiji next to me.
“Mom, where are you going to sit?” I asked, noticing that we were out of chairs and plates.
“Oh, that’s all right, dear. I’m stuffed from sampling my own baking all day. You guys go ahead and eat.” She put a hand to her mouth for a moment and looked upset. “Cara, can you have Guinness?”
I rested my head in my hands.
“Mom, the alcohol cooks off,” I muttered, wondering why Keiji and I even bothered to think up nice methods to break the news when it always seemed to come out in the weirdest way possible. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Keiji’s posture stiffen.
“Why can’t she have Guinness? She’s always been a champion drinker of Guinness!” Dad hooted. Evan laughed and I shot him a glare. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“Dad, I have to go light on the beer for a little while,” I said with a sigh.
“Oh, I should too, did you see my gut?” he said, patting his stomach. Evan laughed harder, his sides shaking with the effort to hold it in.
“Did you see mine?” I replied.
My father may not be familiar with Asahi beer, but he’s no fool. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
“What!” he yelled. Keiji went absolutely still, like a snowshoe hare that has spotted a lynx.
“I wanted to wait until we were through eating, you know, maybe bring it up a little later when everyone was relaxed–”
“What!” Dad yelled again. He pushed back from the table to get a better look at me. “Oh my god, you’re not joking!” Evan was dying, red in the face from oxygen deprivation. Mom came over to stand next to Dad, not afraid to gawk at my midsection now that the cat was dumped out of the bag.
“This is your baby?” she asked, directing the question at Keiji.
“Mom,” I protested.
“Well, how am I supposed to know? I just found out about him a couple of weeks ago! For all I know it could be the milkman’s!” she said, waving her hands around. Italian guilt lecture #281. Evan died some more, gasping, “Milk–man!” I gripped Keiji’s hand under the table, lest he transition to the bolting portion of his rabbit impression. Dad slumped in his chair.
“I’m glad I was sitting down already,” he said. “Although I might be having a heart attack. I don’t know. Is it the right arm or left arm, Clare?”
“Left,” she mumbled, not looking at her husband. Her eyes went back and forth from my belly to Keiji’s face. “You’re an artist, that’s what you told me? You paint?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.
“That’s a random question, Grandma,” Evan said, finally overcoming his paroxysms of hilarity.
“I just want to know that he’s going to provide for my daughter!” Mom cried. The arms were waving again.
“Whoa, whoa, did you forget that I have a job?” I said.
“If you’re having a baby you should stay home!”
“Oh, Mom,” I groaned, putting my face back in my hands.
“Keiji just got a job with an advertising agency,” Evan put in. I was very surprised to have a cheering section populated by him.
“Did you? Is that steady work? What’s the pay like?” Mom threw each question at Keiji like a shot, her eyes flashing.
“It’s a full time position. The amount of business the agency gets is dependent on the economy, but I have commissions on my own work often enough to carry me through leaner times,” he said.
“Mom, what’s up with the interrogation? You already know this stuff, you’ve talked to him before.”
“But that was when he was just your boyfriend,” she said. “Now he’s–are you sure about this? How did this happen? Are you getting married?”
“Are you sure you want to do this now? Start all over with the baby stuff?” Dad chimed in, directing his questions at me.
If I was surprised by Evan’s support, I was floored by their reaction. I recalled sitting at this same table with Reed, enduring a long lecture about personal responsibility and how I should think very, very hard about “the right thing to do,” ending with my mother begging me to keep the baby and offering to help. (Which she did, but still.) To please them, I did. Obviously I wasn’t pleasing them now, maybe because they had lost all control of the situation. I opened and closed my mouth, doing a great fish impression while I searched for a response that wouldn’t be filled with expletives.
“As far as I can tell,” Evan said, “Mom has never been happier. Keiji is good to her. I mean, at least he’s not constantly talking about spreadsheets like those other guys you met. He’s been to every doctor’s appointment for the baby. We’re all excited. Even Dad is happier now. Did you know he’s dating someone? Well, he is.” He quieted down and shrank in his chair as all of the adults gaped at him.
There was silence for half a minute or so. Dad was the first one to recover.
“Wow,” he said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. He nodded his head. “Wow. That is some news. I thought the next grandbaby would be courtesy of Casey and Anne. When is the big day?”
“July first,” Keiji answered. He went on in a firm, quiet voice. “Mr. and Mrs. Brennan, we weren’t expecting this baby either, but as Evan said, we are looking forward to welcoming this new person into our lives. I supported Cara’s decision to continue the pregnancy and I will continue to support her in the future in any way I can. It’s my responsibility and my honor. I love her very much and I want to do my best for her, Evan, and our child.”
The words were much stiffer than I was used to hearing from him, but his voice was sincere. My eyes began to sting; between my love for him and my frustration with my parents’ reaction I was feeling overwhelmed. Mom suddenly burst into tears, throwing her arms around me.
“Oh Cara, Cara,” she sobbed. I couldn’t tell if she was happy or distraught. I gave up and just decided to be confused by everything for the time being.
“Well, all right, son, all right,” Dad said, reaching his hand across the table. Keiji shook it again, a little less firm this time. (Still in possible flight mode.)
“I’m really hungry, Grandma. I am,” Evan said in a small voice. Mom untangled herself from me, sniffling.
“I’m sorry, pulcinella. Grandma is losing her marbles.” Mom uncovered a loaf of fresh bread in the middle of the table, then went to the kitchen to start ladling out bowls of stew. “You all better still be hungry!”
In truth I would’ve been happiest crawling to into bed and Keiji looked the same, but we all made a good show of putting away the stew which really was good (and not a threat to my unborn child). Dad made small talk with Evan about school and Julius Caesar.
After dinner we drifted into the living room to sit on the sectional sofa. The room was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the tree and looked almost magical, like I remembered from my childhood. Dad put up his feet, Mom wrestled Evan into a hug, and I sat close in to Keiji, trying not to collapse on him in emotional exhaustion. We talked a bit about Keiji’s family, Dad told the same embarrassing and/or amusing anecdotes that he always tells newbies about our families (That One Time Cara Got Lost at Disneyworld; Casey Sets the Shed on Fire), and Mom asked us about baby names which had us speechless once more.
Eventually Dad began to snore and Mom shooed him off to bed after giving us our room assignments. Evan headed to my old room; Keiji and I were in one of the basement guest rooms.
“It has the two sleigh beds,” Mom said, her expression almost apologetic. “But I know Rosie and Jim would appreciate the queen, and Casey and Anne the full upstairs here.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I know I’m chopped liver,” I joked.
“Oh, Cara!” she sighed, flapping her arms.
“Mom, Mom, it’s okay,” I said, standing up to give her a hug. When we bumped tummies she looked down and let out a half-laugh, half-sob.
“I’m so–in shock. I just can’t believe it. I don’t know what to think. My little girl is having another baby,” she said, lightly touching the bump.
“I know, Mom.”
“Well, good night. Good night, Keiji,” she said, looking over my shoulder at him. He waved and nodded.
When Mom and Dad’s bedroom door closed I sank back down on the couch next to him with a big sigh. He looked over at me, a funny expression on his face.
“What would you rate that? Let’s say with my parents it was a three of out ten, if one is abort immediately and ten is everyone wants to crown your fetus Ruler of Everything That is Awesome.”
“Umm. A five? A four? I have no idea. I feel crazy,” I muttered, resting my head on his shoulder. We stared at the tree lights for a few minutes.
“What you said to them about supporting me. That made me feel…” I lifted my head and looked into his eyes, watching the lights reflect. I didn’t have words for the feeling. Love? Devotion? Gratitude? Everything at once? So I kissed him instead, brushing my lips across his. He leaned into me, encouraging me to go on, so I flicked the tip of my tongue up the center of his lips to entice him to open his mouth. When he did I sucked his lower lip gently, running my tongue back and forth across it before releasing it to give him a firmer kiss with slightly parted lips. When I was done I sat back and smiled, recognizing the by-now-familiar look of want in his eyes. After a quick look down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, he pulled me onto his lap. I nestled myself against his erection, a tingling excitement beginning to thrum in my lower belly. I bent my head down for another kiss, allowing him to lead this time. Our lips met and he tilted his head to get more access, slipping his tongue inside my mouth. He teased me at first, exploring the edges of my teeth, but soon became more aggressive and swirled his tongue around mine. The tingling in my stomach became a pleasant ache between my legs. Some amount of time later I felt his hands slide up my shirt. He had my bra unhooked before I remembered where we were.
“We should go downstairs,” I panted. He ran his hands around to my front, brushing his hands over my breasts and catching my hard nipples between his fingers on each pass. “Oh my god, you have to stop for just a second.”
I slid off his lap and hooked one hand under his belt, half-pulling him off the couch. He pushed off, took my hand and allowed me to lead him to the basement door. Just as we reached it, the timer on the tree lights clicked off. The only light to see by was the sliver of the quarter moon peeking through the trees. He pushed me against the wall next to the door, his mouth against my neck, his hips pressed into mine. I fumbled for the knob in the dark, found it, and opened the door. The basement was pitch black and almost windowless but I knew my way around. We went down fourteen steps, turned left at the bottom, and walked through an office area to a spare bedroom with two twin beds. Once inside I shut the door behind us.
He reached for me again, silent but screaming his desire. We undressed each other, our clothes puddling unseen around our feet. He relied on me to lead him to one of the beds; as soon as my back hit its surface he was on top of me, inside of me in one smooth stroke, fucking me without sight and only the sounds of our bodies meeting. He went back and forth between kissing me and sucking on my nipples, unable to do without one or the other. It was strange not to see his face, but the dark made me feel somehow more connected to him. It was pure touch, pure sensation, pure emotion. He slipped two fingers inside of my mouth to wet them, then reached between us to rub my clit, urging me closer and closer. I said his name, softly, loathe to break the spell of the darkness. It was all I needed to say; he let go of my breasts, buried his face into my neck and focused on increasing his speed, fucking me the way I loved the best. I twisted my fingers into his hair as I gasped with pleasure. It didn’t take me long; my orgasm began to rush through my body, starting at my pussy and traveling up and out of my mouth in a long, almost sobbing moan. He grunted and held still as he reached his own climax, letting my contractions milk him until he was done. He lay on top of me, stroking my face with his hands as he caught his breath.
I shivered as I became aware of the cool basement air drying the sweat on our skin. He slipped out of me and we pulled the sheets and quilt over us, spooning on the narrow bed.
Footsteps and voices from the floor above us woke me; I had been dreaming about a baby floating in darkness, surrounded by murmuring voices, and now I was having trouble distinguishing dream from reality. It was disorienting to be in such a lightless room when I knew it must be morning. Keiji was almost motionless, his side rising and falling only slightly with his deep, slow breaths. I stretched and groaned, stiff from cramming into such a small space with him. My hand hit his shoulder as I tried to lower it back down by my side. I stroked him from shoulder to hip and then ran my hand over his smooth, compact butt, luxuriating in the feel of his skin. It was rare that I got to touch him without an immediate response. My heart and body thrilled with delight that he was in bed with me — and I admit, a touch of covetousness. He was mine.
I kissed his shoulder blade and slipped my hand around to the front of him. He hadn’t been kidding at his parents’ about a massive boner in the morning. I laughed and fondled him without shame, running my hands lightly over his pubes and cock until he took in a deep breath and rolled over to face me (not that we could see each other).
“How long have you been doing that?” he asked, a smile in his sleepy voice.
“Not long enough,” I said, trying to lick his lips and getting the tip of his nose instead.
“Hey!” he yelped. His aim was better than mine — if he meant to bite my chin. We got into an abrupt tickle/pinch/slap fight, aiming for sensitive areas, until his hand went between my legs. Suddenly I had one, then two fingers inside of me. I gripped his upper arms and went still, concentrating on the welcome invasion.
“That’s not playing fair,” I said.
“Is feeling me up while I’m asleep fair?” he countered. My pregnant pussy, ever sensitive and willing, began to moisten around his fingers. I clenched them with my muscles.
“I never used to like morning sex before.”
“I don’t discriminate based on time of day. What time is it anyway?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the morning. I wish I could see you,” I said, opening my legs a bit wider to allow for more range of movement. He fucked me with more vigor.
“Isn’t there a lamp? Or go open the door a bit,” he suggested, withdrawing from me. I sighed, my pussy tingling and very awake by now. I heard him put his fingers in his mouth as I got up and went to the door. When I opened it the room went from black as a cave to a moonless night. I laughed.
“How about you join me in the shower instead? I don’t want to spend any longer on that bed even if you’re in it.”
“Ugh, my back,” he griped, standing and bending over.
“We’re supposed to be chaste and sleep one person to a bed, Mr. Nakamura,” I said, walking over and taking him by the cock.
“Penises are not leashes,” he said.
“Thanks for the PSA. Now come on,” I said, tugging gently. I took him by the hand instead as we left the bedroom. The only tricky part of getting to the bathroom was crossing in front of the stairwell, but the door to the basement was still closed. We crossed the large main room and then the feeble light from the small bathroom window was visible under the closed door. I opened it and stepped on cold tiles, hissing. I flicked on the overhead light, hurried into the shower stall, pressed against the wall, and spun the taps.
Yes there is such a thing. It is an advanced technique, and over the years of our marriage, my husband and I have been able to achieve this. The basis of the male multi-orgasm is absolute penile control, and an almost less-is-more approach to basic sex.
This is how we go about it.
My signal to Velvet that he’s in for a good time is when he comes home and finds me wearing stockings and heels and nothing else besides my jewelry. I greet him with a kiss, and a glass of wine to help him loosen up and relax while I undress him, right there in the kitchen. The next stop is our bedroom — the technique requires a bit of room; the sofa won’t work, so it’s our king-sized mattress.
To do it, we want to slowly coax Hubby into a totally sexual state, a plane which is almost a higher level of consciousness. There is no rush; this is the total opposite of wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Extended foreplay, titfucking, LOTS of oral. I’m taking my time as I suck him off, we might even go into a sixty-nine. The goal is for him to cum, of course, but without a lot of forceful fuck action. This means no wrist and hand action while I’m blowing him; I’m not jacking him off into my mouth or on my tits.
The idea is to get him to cum without even thrusting his hips. I let Velvet cum in my mouth, of course, and swallow it all. This first cum is to ensure that he’ll be harder for a longer period of time, the second time around. I hold his cock in my mouth – deep throat – until he’s finished ejaculating, and then I keep him there, keep sucking up and down. I want to keep him hard, or at least suck him back from a state of semi-softness to full erection.
Hubby’s second cumming is what I’m concentrating on. Now is the time for advanced blowjob techniques; butterfly licks all up and down the sensitive underside, working my lips and tongue all about the rim, nibbling the special little ‘secret spot’ where the base of his cock joins his ballsack.
Of course he just came; it’s going to take a while for Velvet to cum again so in the meantime I get to enjoy some full-penetration sex. Usually doggy style, or on my back, legs raised all the way up with my ankles crossed behind my head. This position totally exposes my pussy; it’s wonderfully “naughty” due to the feeling of being totally exposed, and provides deep penetration for maximum g-spot stimulation.
Again, the emphasis is on taking it nice and easy; a long, slow walk in the woods. If I’m on my back like that I get really wet and I squirt a lot when I cum this way. Because we’re taking it slow, Hubby is holding back his cum this just adds to the intensity of my orgasms.
Now the grand finale is approaching. Velvet pulls out and lays back, I roll over onto my belly with my face over his midsection. I hold his pole up and begin and extended cock-worship with my lips and tongue. I form an O with my thumb and forefinger and ever-so-gently stroke him as I tickle and tease his rod with my mouth. A lot of butterfly licks, a lot of nibbling at the base of his cock, a lot of kissing and licking at the underside of the helmet; humming is good here. My fingertips are dancing all along his length.
Suddenly my husband is cumming. Not launching big shots, but rather it’s like a pulsing stream. Ever-so-gently I stroke him off, letting it land on my face or my mouth or all over my tits, wherever.
It’s funny, when I was a teenager giving blowjobs to my boyfriends I was uptight about having them cum in my mouth or on my face, but as I’ve gotten older it’s become one of my strongest fetishes. I can’t tell you how many times I have climaxed while fantasizing about having multiple cumshots to the face while I am using a vibrator and masturbating myself.
When I sense it’s over I move up because my husband likes to kiss me when my face is plastered with his jizz; when I’ve got a mouthful of the stuff he likes to snowball his wad. As we kiss lovingly – open mouthed with all that cum all over my lips and tongue – I’m still gently stroking his pole, and it’s not unusual for more semen to cum out. Velvet’s still cumming; this is the final stage of the Male Multi-Orgasm.
We’ve found that performing this technique with others present has an incredible effect. I don’t know if it’s some kind of ‘stage fright’ on my husband’s behalf or what. Not a big crowd but sometimes we have little get-togethers with couples who share our outlook, or with one my girlfriends; the open-minded ones that is. The Watcher Effect somehow intensifies the experience for both of us; it’s like having an out-of-body experience.