by Jenni Sartre
He signaled to the waiter to refill our glasses and sat focused his thoughts before beginning, "First of all, even though you don't know the history of my love life you may have noticed certain patterns.."
I interrupted blithely, as if in all innocence, "You only date women with attractive daughters- all the better to seduce them when they grow up?" He laughed easily but his eyes penetrated mine for a moment. He then continued calmly but with a growing focus of intensity.
"Not precisely true. I have almost exclusively dated somewhat older or younger women, however. Can you guess why? It's not the reason you already mentioned, although that's an amusing theory- valid according to the facts you know."
His eyes danced with mirth but deep underneath there seemed to be a hidden purpose. I thought he was making a big production and I was getting bored with the buildup.
"I give up." Christopher smiled, continuing unabated despite my lack of enthusiasm.
"Do you know why I married your mother?" I suddenly perked up..in fact I felt a slight tingle, as if this conversation were going into highly charged territory
"I assume because you were in love with her, she is a brilliant and beautiful woman, after all."
He nodded.
"All true, in part. Yes I do require a woman to be brilliant and beautiful to fall in love with her but can you think of why I married your mother specifically? After all she's not the only brilliant and beautiful woman I've known but she was the only woman I ever married."
I had no idea where he could possibly be going with this and he could see as much from the expression on my face.
"Alright, one word. You."
I flashed back in my mind to my earlier joke about attractive daughters but brushed it off. His words though loaded with meaning, also carried the conviction of being above reproach of any sinister motives.
Christopher laughed at my discomfort, "Let me explain: I may not have been a conventional father figure to you, but I really meant what I said earlier. Nothing I've ever done has given me more satisfaction than helping raise you. You were the reason I fell in love with your mother so completely and married her- and you being all grown up was the reason our romance couldn't last any longer."
In one sense, I was enormously touched by his sincere statement-but I was still somewhat puzzled.
"I don't get it.. I mean that's a beautiful thing to say but why would me being all grown up make you fall out of love with my mom?"
He looked like he was trying to find the simplest way to explain.
"Let's step backward. You asked me what would excite me enough to get involved with a woman again so I'll tell you. The only thing I want that I've never had is a child of my own. The older women I've dated have all had children. The younger women I've dated I always eventually dreamed of having a child with. I was always too poor and too much on the move when I was younger to stay with these women or properly support kids but I was always attracted to women with children, because there's nothing I've ever wanted more than to be a father. As soon as I was able to I married your mother because I wanted to be there help raise you. In a sense I suppose I fell in love with you as much as your mom. You see I'd already adopted you as my daughter in my heart the first time I saw you."
Christopher spoke with passion, eyes aglow, he seemed more emotional than I could ever remember him being. I reflected that he had always been unusually warm hearted towards me, in his way. Especially compared to what I knew about other people who had step-fathers. I felt an enormous amount of affection and love welling up inside of me. I'd never been a particularly romantic or sentimental person- partially because of Christopher's cool example. Now I was beginning to realize he and I had a much deeper and sweeter bond than either of us had ever expressed. I felt bowled over.
"Christopher, that's the most amazing thing I've ever heard of. It's so incredibly romantic- so pure and beautiful- but didn't you and mom didn't have any more children if you wanted them so badly?" I saw a tear fall and he spoke in slight embarrassment at the emotion he couldn't completely control.
"Well, You were already almost in adolescence, you were such a wonderful girl already that I thought you really deserved all the fathering I could possibly give you in the few short years you had left before you were an adult."
In my heart I wanted to just start bawling and give him the biggest, longest hug humanly possible. I thought back to myself before he appeared and remembered how lonely and insecure I'd been, despite my precociousness. Every little thing he'd shared, his every conversation and action towards me since he came into my life suddenly felt like it had been part of a brilliant master plan to make me into the charming, mentally capable and self confident woman I'd become. I'd never known my birth father, my mom left him when I was two and he died before I was old enough to have a chance to really meet him. At that moment I realized I couldn't imagine ever having felt as intensely for my real dad as I felt for this amazing man who could love a child he wasn't related to so fully, so carefully and so patiently. We both sat there looking at each other lovingly with tears in our eyes for a long moment. After wiping ourselves and paying the bill he offered to drive me home. In the car neither of us spoke for a few minutes, No matter how much my soul was satisfied by our beautiful exchange, I felt a need to tie up the nagging loose ends of his confession with a few more questions
"So you need to find another woman now, to have your child with?" I felt depressed about this somehow, it seemed to lessen the beauty of his earlier statements. I would no longer be the center of his life and even though that concept was still overwhelming it was also the most beautiful thing I'd ever dreamed of, though I had only realized it in retrospect.
"I did talk to your mother after you moved out about having another child but as I expected, she didn't want to do it. Your mother had you when she was quite young and she's still beautiful- she deserves her long overdue freedom. Another reason I left her was so that she could have her own renaissance. As far as finding another woman, I doubt that I will find any that I would be satisfied with now. I put so much of myself into this great love of my life that was our family- It's possible I don't really have any enough left."
I could tell he absolutely meant what he was saying- but there seemed to be something I was missing, because although his deep love for me and his sadness at his failure to achieve his dream of another child were there- there was a hidden meaning which I wasn't ready to see. I held his hand to comfort him and we drove the rest of the way there, with the pregnant silence staring through us like a loaded gun pointed at my swirling heart.
After parking his car he walked me to the door of my apartment. I felt dizzy as if I were On a merry go round spinning faster and faster. I stopped at my door and was about to open it and invite him in when suddenly I was kissing him...not like a daughter kisses a father or like a lover kisses another nor even like a husband kisses a wife. Perhaps more like a girl kisses a stranger soldier returning from battle, when she feels like her whole world is kissing it's better half out of gratitude and the love of a higher purpose momentarily achieved. A moment when the surrender of self love to shared victory has created a perfectly unified safety in numbers which can best shelter a woman's newborn hope. A moment when whole generations are conceived to replace the ones destroyed by man's immeasurable weakness.. I was on fire with a passion that seemed to come from beyond my being as my hands were all over him and his were over me.
The circle was closing around our hearts. We were through the door I was kissing him like the soft white skin of a rabbit kisses the gleaming inside of a snake's throat. There was was no sex possible like this on earth as I had known it. I had never fucked I had never dreamed, I had never fully existed until this moment. I was now larger than anything except the infinitely elastic shell of my senses as it stretched out into the vast horizon of the soul. Our clothes disappeared between the door and my bachelorette bed. My naked body was now his shrine just as his was mine. My breasts- so small and una
ble to feed a suckling infant nevertheless nourished his hungry mouth as his face attacked me, making me nubile with his infinite hunger. My tall body, lean and youthful next to his hard, older and more desperate one, had never been properly tested. The same way that this deadly romance was spiralling out of control in our hearts, so was our insatiable sex-hunger diving into the most forbidden and yet most fitting of all dark satisfactions.
You can't imagine the erotic thrill at the thought of fucking the father of your hearts desires. He had co-created my yearning, my ego-my will, and so with my loving help he took it away, subsuming it into mad animal hunger as I clamored for what was inside his pants to destroy our chastened bond and and recreate it in a new, more perfect form.
Christopher gave my breasts a good firm squeeze and chuckled to himself.
“You’re much prettier than your mother.” He said as he caressed my fertile body. He closed his lips around one of my nipples and sucked. I felt his teeth gently prick my skin. He looked up at me and giggled.
“You better get used to that feeling,” he cooed.
He moved his head away and examined my breast. I looked down and saw that they were flushed, but unharmed.
I breathed nervously. He looked me directly in the eyes, massaged the nipples with his finger. . Christopher lifted up my chin and leaned his face closer to mine. He kissed me deep and passionately. He wrapped his arms around me and drew me close to him. He pressed his hips against me and suddenly I clung to him; licking his lips and wrapping a leg around his waist. He lifted my leg up and then the other and carried me back to my bed and laid me down gently on my back.
Christopher ran his hands up my legs and then spread them apart. I ran a finger along my shaven pussy with admiration. I shivered when he kissed the top of my mound and then down to my slit. I was so set and inside I begged for his cock. He licked up and down my slit until I moaned and felt the sensational pleasure run through my thighs and up my stomach. His tongue felt so warm and strong against me and I shivered when he rubbed my clit. I cried out and that made him move his tongue fasted with more force. I practically screamed and then backed away from him. He looked up at me and cocked his head to the side.
“Are you ready to be a mother?” Christopher asked?
When I nodded, he sprung on top of me and shoved his dick deep inside my pussy. I wrapped my legs around him as he fucked me like an animal. He pushed himself balls deep inside of me filling me up.
As he rammed inside me I bucked my hips against him. We both seemed to release something primal within ourselves and I loved every second of it.
I dripped and I ached his thrusts were as loving in one moment as they were brutal in the next . Sex as pure as this is war and peace all at once, both perfect- both unyielding and yielding, in ceaseless flux, to the very essence of their antithesis. I felt his every triumph and failure and my ego evaporated into joy in the absolute realization that I was giving him- with all of my will, both universal and personal, his greatest prize even as his own offering was mine.
“I want to feel you deeper, Daddy,” I cried uncontrollably.
His thrusts grew deeper, our sensory supernova began to reach a peak of magnificence, which the sterile language of medicine and the tired cliches of pornography could not even begin to express. I want to tell you exactly what my muscles felt.
He lifted me up by my hips so that he could fit all of his long cock inside of me. He forced my upper body down with strength I could never imagine. I felt every inch of him inside my pussy, stretching me wide. The pleasure made me grip the sheets even though I still felt very weak. He continued to fuck me and I held gripped him, not wanting it to stop and lose the chance to have his seed filling my waiting womb.
Christopher slowed down his thrust but continued on regardless. It felt much better and my pussy kept dripping onto the bed. I felt myself starting to cum. I moaned and squirted all over my bed.
“I’m going to fill you up!” he growled with an almost animal lust as he gave me one last thrust. I felt his warm, creamy jizz fill my pussy.
His semen swam inside and felt like it's own, fresh invasion, stealthy and separate from the brutality Of his swollen cock's mind and body stretching force, but no less complete in it's assault and far more Important. Instead of several short shots it sprayed with a long and steady stream as his entire body clenched completely to focus it's unfettered advance. My world shattered. I gasped and cried like a baby reborn as my own wave expanded and overtook his and completely, consuming him.
His body panicked, trapped in my now locked universe his voice cried hoarsely as the stream that which had run dry slowly began to pour again from a new involuntary release. My orgasm was like a black hole taking away all pain, all uncertainty, all inequality until we collapsed on the bed.
There was no consciousness...I leaked with over flow even as his seed swam deeper down in me. We both ached with unbearable beauty until we were overstimulated in into insensibility.
Slowly my ego returned and my pride swelled as I again remembered the beauty of our union. Christopher was asleep As I lay, still feeling our mingling forces inside me
Suddenly I felt a sense of fate, deeper, vaster than all of the previous revelations about Christopher and Me could have prepared me for. Everything was falling into place now and I knew that he was a either greater artist than either he or I could individually comprehend or else we were both caught up in a sea of amazing parallels that cycled endlessly, eddying into a vortex of love between people as an never-ending echo of one soul recreating itself in it's own image.
Christopher had been almost right when he had said I was his greatest composition. I was in fact the penultimate one. His actual greatest composition would also be coauthored by his self and mine- just as my own existence had thus far been. I could already feel it growing in my heart- all too soon all of his dearest and most perfect creative work, our baby would be growing inside my body.
Also by Jenni Sartre
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