by Sienna Harte
She wasn’t on birth control, never was. We kept ourselves protected using the rhythm of her body, marking on the calendar the days she couldn’t conceive. I used to call those “No Condom” days, and to make her laugh I would theatrically check the calendar when I got home from work, throw down my bag, and do a little happy dance.
Sometimes I’d pick her up right there in the kitchen and set her down on the kitchen table, flipping up her skirt and pulling down her little panties like a mad man. On no condom days, we fucked multiple times, multiple places. The rest of the month we used condoms, which was less intense but I never complained. Any time I was making love to her was a good time.
Oh Em, I thought, pulling open the drawer where the dildo and lube resided. What went wrong?
I felt sort of bad; I knew she wanted one more baby, but conversations on the subject had stalled recently and, of course, we weren’t currently trying for one.
My boner throbbed beneath my boxer shorts, but the cause of my arousal was decidedly not the well-worn Playboys now laying on the counter; it was the resurrected memories of my pregnant, horny wife.
Mind now made up, I took the bottle of Pearly Dream and carefully unscrewed the cap. Masturbating to an orgasm was no trouble at all; it took nearly two minutes before I was spurting hot, white cum into Emily’s secret bottle of lube.
“There we go,” I breathed, holding the bottle to the light to examine my work. The Pearly Dream and my cum were slightly different in appearance. I returned the cap and gave it a good shake, then looked again. The change was now undetectable.
Smiling to myself, I returned the bottle beside the giant toy and carefully closed the drawer. Then I flushed the toilet for good measure, washed my hands, and quietly exited the bathroom.
Entering the bed beside my ice queen wife, I felt infinitely better than before. Although I might be neglected right now, I wouldn’t be for long.
THREE
It had been a month, and I still wasn’t getting any. I even fixed the stupid washing machine the day after my initial chemistry experiment, despite the arduous ten hour work day I had already endured. All of that work, and not a single thank you. (And a microwave dinner, to boot.)
I was beginning to wonder if one ejaculation was enough to cause a pregnancy; perhaps it was so diluted by the lube that it was ineffective.
Emily went on a trip to see her mother, and that was my chance. While Violet was at daycare I rushed home on my lunch break to masturbate. When she was sleeping, I also masturbated – sometimes twice. Each time I collected my semen in a jar and returned it to the back of the refrigerator for preservation.
Just before Emily came home, I thawed the semen. It now filled up half of the jar. Then I emptied the Pearly Dream out completely, flushing it down the toilet.
“Bye bye,” I said, smiling to myself.
Next, I replaced the Pearly Dream with my own pearly product. The result was perfect; hardly a difference could be noticed.
By my strategy, I hoped that Emily would return home in need of privacy and “personal time” given the week of being harassed and belittled by her witch of a mother. She would probably go to bed early, asking me to watch Violet for her.
“Ted,” she snapped, entering the door and dropping her bag on the ground beside her.
“Yes dear?” I said.
“Get Violet, she’s making a mess,” she motioned to the kitchen, where the little girl sat drawing giant circles on her paper with crayons, exiting and reentering the borders of the page and making large greasy pink marks on the dining room table.
“Of course,” I said. “Violet? Let’s go out and get ice-cream. Mommy’s tired.”
I turned back to Emily, expecting to see a look of gratitude or even an “I missed you.” Nothing. Just:
“Don’t let her have the peanuts,” she muttered, sinking into the couch. “She’s allergic.”
“Yes dear.” Of course she’s allergic. You think I don’t know my own daughter? “Anything else you need while I’m out?”
But she paid me no attention, squeezing the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes.
“Come on, Vi,” I said. “Mommy needs to rest.”
We spent a couple of hours out of the house, getting ice cream and walking around the strip. Before we went home we made a stop at the grocery store and grabbed some essentials. Violet was pretty worn out when we got home, and it took no convincing for her to get in bed.
Closing her bedroom door softly, I strode down the hall to the master bedroom. There was Emily, sitting up in bed reading. Oddly, I had missed her cold presence in our bed over the last week.
“Have a good trip?” I asked her. My eyes flickered to her bedside table, where her laptop rested.
“It was fine,” she said, not taking her eyes off her book.
“Margo is doing well?”
“As well as ever,” she replied.
“And your dad?”
“Fine.”
It was our typical stiff exchange. On a night like this I would ordinarily try to coax more conversation out of her, to try and create some semblance of a functioning marriage where love and friendship still existed. Tonight, however, I left it at “fine”. What problem was it of mine that she refused to elaborate, to share with me? Besides, I’d gotten my revenge and taken steps towards getting what I wanted…
“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I said pleasantly.
No reply.
Shrugging, I entered our bathroom and closed the door behind me, taking stock of the locations of objects. There was a damp towel hanging from the rod, the toilet seat was down, and –
The sex toy drawer. It was ever so slightly ajar. I opened it further, peering inside at the contents. I had placed the Pearly Dream bottle with the label side up. It was now label side down. Success!
One ejaculation diluted with lube hadn’t done it, but I was certain that entire weeks’ worth of semen would do the trick. All I had to do was wait.
FOUR
It’s been two weeks. The contents of the bottle of Pearly Dream have been slowly lessening, but still no sex.
Violet is at daycare. I was in meetings all morning, but they let out early and I went home around lunch time. Emily’s car was out front when I arrived.
“Baby?” I called up the stairs.
Nothing.
“Meetings ended early, for a change,” I continued. “I thought we could grab some lunch, maybe see a movie -”
I stopped short when I opened our bedroom door. The sight was a delicious erotic surprise.
My wife of four years. Naked on our bed, legs sprawled open with her hands in between, pumping the giant plastic cock in and out of her pink pussy. The bottle of Pearly Dream laid on my side of the bed next to her.
She did not hear me calling; she had headphones in. Her laptop balanced atop her bare stomach, and from where I stood I could see the content she was so aroused by. It was a woman midway through a pregnancy, having her pussy pummeled by an enormous cock. The owner of said cock held her by the hair, hips, ankles – whatever he could get his hands on. Occasionally he would bend down, cock still buried within her, and suckle at her leaking breasts.
My wife made primal sounds I hadn’t heard since she was pregnant. She thrust the vibrator in and out of her with wild abandon, and her body jerked around violently, the delicate laptop in real danger of falling from her stomach.
The sight was intriguing – and arousing. I took my phone from my pocket, stealthily snapping a photo.
I felt I should say something – announce my presence. Or perhaps leave and come back in a while, pretending I hadn’t seen anything at all? I was debating my options, but before I could decide my wife caught the movement of my shadow and screamed.
The laptop flew to the ground as Emily turned around, drawing the blankets around her nude form.
“Hey hey hey!” I said, holding up my hands. “It’s just me, just me!”
“What are you doing home?�
� she demanded. “How long were you standing there? What did you see?”
“My meetings, only a minute really.”
“Meetings,” she said, breathing deeply and heavily.
“They got out early,” I explained.
“Right,” she said. She turned away from me, picking up the laptop and setting it gingerly on her bedside table, lid closed.
“I saw what you were watching,” I said softly. Emily tensed but did not turn to look at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped.
“Em,” I said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Really.”
“Masturbating? Of course it’s not.”
“I mean the pornography. The, uh, category of your pornography.”
My wife was silent for a moment. Then, “Well, I have some errands to run.”
“Emily!”
“And it’ll be time to pick up Violet soon, I better get dressed.”
“Emily,” I said again, blocking the path to the closet. “Please, talk to me! Please Em!”
“Ted there’s nothing to talk about,” she maintained. “Now please get out of my way, I need to get to the post office before they send their outgoing mail for the day.”
Dejected, I moved to the side. Emily dressed in record speed, throwing the blankets onto the bed and slamming the door on her way out.
I wept.
We were distant and cordial for the rest of the week. She was too embarrassed to look at me, and I stayed away from her if only to hide the pain of my rejection. I had never felt so low in the course of our entire relationship. It was as if my wife transformed after giving birth; the once free spirited artist who laughed loudly and freely was now a frigid stranger to me. Even my sex drive was experiencing its all-time low.
When Violet went to stay with my parents for a weekend, the distance and silence became too obvious to ignore.
“Emily,” I pleaded. “Please talk to me.”
“About?” she asked. She was eating breakfast at the table with her eyes glued to her ereader.
“Anything,” I replied.
“The sink,” she said, swiping to the next page on her device. “It’s draining abnormally slow.”
That very night, I headed to bed far earlier than her. I wasn’t tired, only wanting to get away from Emily. Just her being in the same room made me feel lonely enough to start crying all over again.
I laid in bed, eyes shut, imagining having an affair. What would it be like? With whom would I have it? Would Emily find out, and if she did would she even care?
I imagined fucking a faceless bimbo on the kitchen table the way I used to do with Em, and Emily coming home to walk in on us.
“The yard needs to be mowed,” she’d say flatly before retreating to the upstairs.
The bedroom door creaked open slowly, and I listened to the familiar sounds of Emily getting ready for bed: changing into pajamas, peeing, brushing teeth, and finally switching the light out and climbing into bed. I smelled her shampoo, and my heart ached from the isolation.
An unusual thing happened minutes later; I felt a hand on my back. It travelled up, under my shirt to my shoulder. Then back down, dipping into the back of my boxers. Emily’s body wrapped itself around me, a leg draped over mine, knee hugging my legs.
“Em?” I whispered, hardly daring to believe it. It had to be a dream, or a trick of some sort. My wife only let me fuck her once a year, if that – and she never initiated the contact.
The hands travelled forward now, under my arms, to my belly and upwards to my chest and nipples.
“Emily?” I repeated.
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” I felt foolish for asking, but it had been so long.
“I don’t know…” she replied.
I turned to face her. Her hair was askew, and there was a rare light in her eyes. And for once, they were looking right into mine.
“Hi,” she giggled.
“Hello…” I said suspiciously. “Are you drunk?”
“No!” she said, scowling.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “You just seem…really happy, or something.”
She seemed to be thinking about it.
“Yeah, I am,” she said slowly. “I don’t know why.”
I looked at her closely; I think I knew why. She had an aura about her that was reminiscent of her first pregnancy. Even in the first weeks following the conception of our daughter, there had been a noticeable change in my wife.
“Ted?” she leaned her head on my chest. I was apprehensive. I longed to be touched, but was this Emily the same one who had neglected me for three years?
“Yeah?”
“Will you fuck me?”
Seriously? She had to be pregnant. She just had to be. She never initiated sex anymore, we’d been extremely distant for weeks, and here she is asking me for sex. Not just sex – fucking. Emily never called it fucking.
“Ted?” her voice sounded worried now, guarded.
“I heard you, I just…”
“Just what?”
“I was just surprised,” I explained. “Yes, of course I’ll fuck you.”
She grinned, and I saw a glimpse of the woman I had missed so badly. Warmth spread throughout my body. This was the Em I had fallen in love with, the one who drove me so insane that I just had to marry her, make her mine, then make a beautiful baby with. And now we’d be making another.
She’d know soon enough.
I pictured her belly growing, her breasts swelling, and nightly rendezvous after a home-cooked meal we prepared together and putting Violet to bed. Sex, that’s what I wanted. But I also wanted my wife back, my best friend, and for my family to feel whole again. My house hadn’t really felt like a home in so long.
I took over, rolling over on top of her small frame and taking her face in my hands.
“I love you,” I murmured, kissing her lips.
“I love you too,” she whispered, gazing up at me.
We tore into each other’s clothing like teenagers in the backseat of a car. I wanted, no, needed to touch her – all of her. I need to make sure it was all still there, still real and still as good as I remembered. I felt her skin, the palms of her hands, her elbows, shoulders and neck. It was warm and soft. I dug my fingers in her silky blonde hair, inhaling like it was the last breath I’d take.
Her thighs parted to welcome my aching erection. It throbbed in time with the beat of my heart and of our hearts. I dipped my head, resting it on her breasts which were also soft and warm. I reveled in the sensation. Was this real? Was this my wife, really allowing me to come so near her? I feared it was a dream I was having, that in real life right now my wife was reading her ereader, ignoring and resenting my presence in the bed next to her.
Her hands in my hair certainly felt real. They scraped my scalp and clawed through the hairs there, grabbing hold and bringing my head up to meet her gaze again. She bit her lip, locking her ankles behind me and begging the question – will you fuck me? Will you fuck me, Ted?
I couldn’t let it happen so easily. Time would slip away and before I knew it, I’d be cumming and it would be all over. She would roll away, saying nothing, and our existence as a stale married couple would continue indefinitely. No, I wouldn’t let it happen so quickly. I would take my time.
I dipped my head again, dragging on her cleavage with the flat of my tongue. It spread broad strokes of saliva across her breasts. She shivered, a sure sign of arousal. I continued. I licked the top of her breasts, between them, and outside of them. Below, I caressed the undersides with my thumbs and drew closer in, dangerously near her tender nipples. They were hard now. Cute, sexy, pink little cones atop her milky white breasts. They drove me insane. I could wait no longer.
“Ah!” Emily inhaled sharply, arching her back to bring her chest nearer to my face. I sucked hard, drawing the entire nipple in my mouth, then released and sucked softly, barely encircling the tip with my moistened lips.
> Her body twisted this way and that. I knew she was wet from the slick spot on my thigh where she was now grinding, still begging for it – begging for my dick.
But I would not give in so easily.
I slapped her ass unexpectedly, causing a squeal of pleasure to escape from her lips.
“Turn over,” I grunted.
Emily looked at me with an arousing mix of eagerness and uncertainty. I’d always enjoyed ordering her around in bed; almost as much as Emily enjoyed being told what to do.
I spanked her again, a little harder this time.
“Now,” I growled, but I couldn’t contain a half grin.
Emily bit her lip and smiled, then turned over. I was greeted with the lovely sight of her two bare butt cheeks.
I took my time, making her wait a little bit in anticipation as I inspected her fine ass. It was tight and smooth, with a cute freckle near her crack. I poked it. She jumped a little. I combed my fingers roughly down each cheek, leaving red lines behind. I gave each cheek a light slapping, back and forth, so I could watch the flesh jiggle and bounce. Emily giggled nervously, moaning when I finally pressed a thumb to her asshole.
A good sign.
We hadn’t had anal sex in years; tonight would not be the night to have it, either. If this was the only time I got to fuck my wife this year, I wanted it in her pussy. And if Emily was successfully impregnated by the “lubricant”…well, then there would no doubt be plenty of time for anal exploration in the coming nine months.
“Please, Ted,” she whimpered.
I circled her tiny asshole with my thumb, probing my middle finger inside of her pussy. It was soaking wet. She moaned harder and louder now, becoming impatient. I smiled to myself. She didn’t know what impatient was until she’d been deprived for three years. But I couldn’t possibly make her wait much longer.
I took my fingers out from her and slapped her ass.
“Who owns this?” I asked.
“You,” she sighed. “You do, baby.”
“Damn straight,” I said, and I thrusted into her roughly, pushing down against the walls of her pussy. She cried out, loud enough to wake the neighbors, so I had to put a hand over her mouth.
