Cabin Fever: Lovechild

"It can be that simple," Marcy promised. All he had to do was walk away and pretend like that evening in the bedroom had never happened.

Her hand was so warm on his skin. It made him feel like some euphoric drug was flowing into his bloodstream. This was the first physical contact they'd had since they slept together; since he discovered that she was carrying his child.

It reminded him of how it had felt having her entire naked body draped over his own, after they had climaxed: warm, soft, and sublimely comfortable. Skin against skin; her tender womb filled with the white vigor she had so passionately teased out of him with her beauty and guile.

Paul turned his head and looked at her womb now: big, beautiful, bountiful; still filled with his vigor. How could he ever be expected to pretend that moment had never happened, when life itself had seen fit to build such a magnificent monument to it?

"Do... do you know what it is?" he asked softly.

"Uh, no," Marcy replied. "My OBGYN keeps asking if I want to know. I keep telling her I want to be surprised.

"Why break with tradition, y'know?" Marcy chuckled nervously. Paul offered a weak smile, hoping it would make the situation a little less awkward. It didn't.

After another lengthy, and increasingly uncomfortable pause, Marcy turned to face Paul once again. This time, he couldn't avoid meeting her concerned gaze.

"Let it go, Paul," she told him in a quiet, determined voice. "It's the best thing, for everyone."

Paul didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer.

"Well, look, I gotta get to class," she suddenly snapped back to a very straightforward manner. "I guess you need some time to think. Just... lock up when you're done, okay?"

Paul mumbled something in response.

Marcy left as briskly as her sizable belly allowed. Ordinarily, Paul probably would've felt compelled to race around the car and give her a hand to get out. But he was too lost in thought to be chivalrous. If Marcy minded, she didn't let on.

He stayed in the driver's seat for probably another twenty minutes before he finally decided to move. His legs felt weak and unsteady as he left the car. He was still reeling from Marcy'sofficial confirmation that he was the father - or, at least, what Paul had taken to be an official confirmation.

He drifted around campus for the rest of the day, completing most of his daily obligations in a sort of fugue state. Beyond his superficial movements, he spent the entire remainder of the day thinking about the future and what Marcy had said to him.

It saddened him greatly when he reflected on how Marcy had described their tryst as "a mistake." He wondered if that was how she really felt about it.

Of course, mentally, it made perfect sense to describe the incident that way. But in his heart, Paul himself had never been able to regret what they had done, even in light of its heavy consequences. His thoughts agreed that it had been a mistake; but his overwhelming feelings held the exact opposite position.

Paul wondered if Marcy's true feelings about the act were likewise at war with her measured words. She had tried very hard to conceal her natural intuition that Paul was the baby's father; of that, he was certain. She wanted to con herself into genuinely believing that Jeff was the father, for it would've been so much more convenient for her if he was.

Was she likewise being deceptive when she implied that she regretted the affair?

He recalled, in striking detail, the expression that had been on Marcy's face when he came inside her. It was a look of utterly spent euphoria, earnest and uncomplicated. He realized that in that moment, her experience mirrored his own. She was delighted, in the basest level of her being. Her intrinsic humanity - her intrinsicwomanhood, was delighted that she had fucked a virile male, with a nice hard cock, to the heights of orgasm.

Paul knew from his own experience that such a profound sense of accomplishment never truly leaves someone. No matter how much your mind might second guess you, how much your common sense might chastise you, deep down, you're always glad that you did what you did.

He reflected on how she had subconsciously coddled her baby bump while they talked in her car; almost as if she wanted to assure it that she didn't really mean what she was saying about its conception being a mistake. Marcy cherished her fruitful belly and the baby within. So she must've likewise cherished the outburst of passion it represented. Her belly, her baby and the sensual act that had created them were all one and the same; merely different facets of the same beautiful phenomenon.

By the end of the day, Paul had successfully convinced himself that Marcy, too, was ultimately glad that she'd had unprotected sex with him all those months ago. Even with all the hardships of pregnancy, and the inevitable worries that must've weighed on her mind, Marcy instinctively savored her memories of that night they had been together.

Since he would never know for certain what was really going on in Marcy's head, he chose to believe that she felt that way. It pleased him to think so.

However, he still had a big decision to make. Should he turn his back on his lovechild and just walk away, as Marcy had requested?Could he turn his back on them?

Or did his rights and responsibilities as the baby's natural father override all the pain and disruption he would cause if he owned up to his role in the situation?

Paul's urge to ask Marcy to marry him was stronger than ever, now that she had basically admitted the baby was his. His blood yearned for that oft-pondered vision of his future, where he and Marcy made a family together, with their kids. As dreary and uninspired as that mental picture seemed, it nonetheless felt complete.

But, in this one matter, Paul's brain won out over his heart. He realized there was more selfishness than nobility behind his yearning to insert himself into Marcy and their baby's future, and ultimately decided that Marcy's wishes had to be respected.

He continued to watch Marcy from afar over the following weeks, delighting in how her belly kept growing ever grander.

It was about this time when he began to notice that Jeff was becoming increasingly bitter while hanging out with his friends. Humorless jibes about his girlfriend being a ball and chain, or a natural disaster began to punctuate his speech. It got to the point where several old friends couldn't stand to hang around with him anymore, just to watch him mope. Paul himself found Jeff's company torturous during this phase. But he endured it nonetheless, for the scant tidbits of information he was able to pick up about Marcy and her pregnancy.

At the same time, he also began to notice a change in Marcy as well. The ever-charismatic, unflappable bombshell had become unusually reserved. He could see it in her body language; in the evasive way she had begun to move. Her posture sank, not from the weight of a second-trimester baby, but from the weight of worry and sorrow. Paul could tell that the quiet, genial smiles she often flashed to passers-by took a lot of effort.

As Paul anticipated, it was not much longer before she and Jeff broke up.

Jeff celebrated his newfound freedom with a series of increasingly reckless benders.

Paul reluctantly joined him and some other guys for one of them. He somehow managed to keep his composure when a half-drunk Jeff began to ramble about how he didn't even believe that the kid was his; how, "the fucking randy bitch has probably been banging dudes all over town, whenever I turned my back!"

The guys publicly supported him, as bros do. But really, they all thought he was just making up an excuse to justify leaving Marcy in the lurch. Paul suspected that even Jeff didn't really believe his own words.

A veil of sadness descended over Marcy immediately following the breakup. Even from afar, Paul could notice flickers of anxiety in her eyes. Yet at the same time, Paul noticed a surge of energy in her step which he hadn't seen for several weeks. It was as if suddenly finding herself single, with a baby on the way, had allowed her to tap in to some reserve of resilience that she didn't even know she had.

Paul, naturally, felt obliged to do something. He sucked up the courage to approach her, not really knowing what he was going to say. But when she noticed him approaching, the anxiety in her eyes surged exponentially. Paul understood that she still didn't want him involved in her life; at least, not so soon after her breakup. So he nonchalantly crossed the quad to avoid her.

Her girlfriends had been quick to rally around her. Soon enough, Marcy could scarcely be seen apart from her bubbly little clique. To the casual observer, they lifted Marcy's spirits to no end and Paul was delighted to see Marcy smiling and even laughing quite frequently.

However, on the rare occasions when he spotted Marcy out and about by herself, he thought she look tired; like her spirits were broken. Despite the superficial cheerfulness that her friends had brought out in her, Paul surmised that Marcy had been worn down by longstanding worries that her friends simply couldn't help her with.

On some subliminal level, Paul hoped that Marcy might've opened up to the idea of taking on a more appropriate father figure for her child, now that Jeff was out of the picture. But unfortunately, he still got the impression that he wasn't welcome in Marcy's life. Though what it was about Marcy's behavior that gave him that impression, he had no idea.

Then, as the frozen ground began to give way to the stirrings of spring, a peculiar thing happened.

Paul accidentally bumped into Marcy's group while running some errands in the town. He politely greeted them all, including Karen and Marcy. His voice cracked a little as he directed a curt, "Hi!" to the woman carrying his secret lovechild.

Despite her flawless, cheery smile, Marcy's, "Hey, Paul!" likewise faltered, with a subtle whimper of apprehension.

If the other girls noticed the tension between them, they didn't let on.

Paul briefly exchanged pleasantries with the group, before excusing himself. About five seconds after they'd parted ways, Paul overheard the ladies erupting in a fit of giggles. At first, he worried that he might've somehow blown his cover. But then, after reminding himself what girls were like, he realized that they could've been laughing about anything.

The mere fact that he was just an awkward dork was probably hilarious to them. It seemed silly to think they'd drawn some deeper conclusions about his relationship with Marcy.

Aside from relishing the rare pleasure of being so close to Marcy for a brief moment, Paul didn't give the encounter another thought. Until a couple days later, when Marcy greeted him with a gentle, "Hi, Paul," as they passed each other by in one of the college hallways.

Paul was so surprised, he nearly forgot to respond.

They hadn't really been on speaking terms since having sex. Aside from the two serious conversations that Paul had to force himself to initiate, that is. They had passed each other countless times in the intervening months, and largely ignored one another every single time.

That one encounter turned out to be the beginning of a new chapter. They spoke to one another every time they met after that. Never anything more than inconsequential greetings, and the atmosphere was always tense. But they were speaking.

For Paul, that was like manna from heaven; a rich new connection to the gorgeous woman who had completely redefined his life.

Winter was finally over. A new season was beginning, for both of them; bringing with it a new energy and new possibilities.

-----

A pleasant warmth surged within Paul's body as his reflection upon the dramatic past few months brought him right back to his present situation: gazing blissfully across the grassy quad, at the woman carrying his child.

Her belly was enormous now! He stared at it obsessively, and was vividly reminded of the act of perfect insanity through which it had been conceived. He listened to Marcy's wanton, breathy moans. He saw her large, pert breasts heaving to and fro; her petite, peach-pink nipples dancing across their malleable flesh. He felt the flesh of her thighs yielding within his amorous grasp. He felt the indescribable tingling of anticipation across his testicles.

Every facet of the experience was as crystal clear to him today as it had been in the moment it had occurred.

The only part that he was unable to relive - which he hadnever been able to relive - was what it felt like to cum inside her. Unlike all the other memories, that miracle had never stayed with him. He had given it completely to Marcy and, as the whole world could plainly see, she had made magnificent use of it. All that chaotic passion, uncompromising maleness and exquisite pleasure was locked securely away in his lover's fruitful womb.

Right where it belonged.

In recent weeks, Paul had been plagued by yet another consuming urge: he wanted to feel that belly. He ached to be able to place his hands on either side of it and feel for himself just how large it was. He wanted to feel the strength and the fullness that had grown from his sperm. And he most certainly didn't want to do it through a sweater, or a blouse. He wanted the authentic experience. He wanted to feel the naked skin of Marcy's belly against his palms.

Of course, when he allowed his mind to wander, he fantasized about going much further than simply fondling her naked belly. Paul yearned to explore Marcy's entire naked body one more time.

He dreamed of latching his fingers on to the yielding buttocks he had squeezed as the last of his semen had bubbled into her sweet womb. He dreamed of plunging his nose into her long, brown hair and intoxicating himself with the aroma of her shampoo. He ached to nuzzle her enlarged, motherly breasts and worship them with a thousand kisses. He wished to slither a hand around her hip, down across her mons, and on to her tender pussy, and then listen to the noises she made as her played with her down there. Finally, he yearned to push his rock-hard member into her hole and make hot, careless love to her until, once more, she relieved him of his manly load.

But above all else, what Paul wanted most of all was to feel that captivating belly for himself.

He thought about the new life growing within that belly right now, and wondered what sort of person had been created from their mad lust. Would their son be an unruly handful? A force of nature running on pure impulse, with no affinity for common sense? Would their daughter be an irresistible seductress? A woman who could overcome even the most straight-laced person's sense of reason and make them servile to her every whim?

It amused him, attempting to personify his and Marcy's sexual encounter. But it scared him a little, too. He was starting to feel like he wasn't ready for the willful offspring he was imagining. Nor, for that matter, was the rest of the world.

He wondered about how much his son or daughter would come to know about their origins. What would Marcy tell them, once they had grown old enough to appreciate that a man must've somehow been involved in their conception? Would she still be invested in the lie that Jeff had gotten her pregnant, and then abandoned her, even all those years after the fact? Or would she tell their child the truth?

If so, Paul wondered, how would their child feel about it; knowing that they were born from a careless one-night-stand?

He envisioned their bright-eyed youngster asking, "Mommy, how did you and daddy fall in love?" Only for the wonder in their eyes to dwindle into jaded disappointment as mommy gently explained that they were born from a tawdry lapse in judgement, not an endearing love story.

It dampened Paul's spirits a little to think that his offspring might not share his sense of joy regarding their origin. He wished he could counsel that future-child; explain to them how their creation was nothing to be disappointed about.

They were created by a moment that was honest, simple, pure and joyful. It was a moment that had no need for prelude, or familiarity, and was not remotely spoiled by the absence of either. It was a moment when two people came together and blessed each other with the most exquisite joy imaginable. The only rationale they needed was that it felt right. Every fiber of their being told them it was right.

It was remarkable. It was wonderful. It was as perfect a moment as there had ever been or ever would be.

It occurred to Paul that, as kids, people so often get caught up in the Disney romantic fairytale, when trying to understand how their parents got together, and by extension, where they themselves come from. Everyone needs to believe that mom and dad were Cinderella and Prince Charming, falling hopelessly in love as they danced across an elegant ballroom floor.

But they get so hung up on the backstory, they almost always overlook the simple truth of their own beginnings: that most of them came into existence due to a single moment of pure, uninhibited ecstasy, shared between two naked people. When you strip away the cumbersome veneer of context, almost everybody comes from something wonderful.

Paul and Marcy may never have been in love. But they truly loved the intimacy they shared. Even if they weren't prepared to admit it, they wouldalways love that experience. Paul was reminded of that fact every time he laid eyes on Marcy's perfect bulge.

He hoped that, one day, his son or daughter would understand that, and find that knowledge just as pleasing as the "happy family" origin stories that many of his or her friends would have.

Paul was drawn out of his blissful musings as Marcy began moving once more. He watched her, intently as ever, as she followed the path along the edge of the quad, until she eventually passed behind a building and out of view.

Paul sighed. It always disappointed him when she disappeared.

He suddenly remembered his coffee and took a big swig. He didn't care for the lukewarm temperature, but it was still worth finishing.

He turned his gaze back to the bright, green quad as he waited for that last mouthful to settle in his stomach. It was still a picturesque scene, but it seemed so banal without Marcy's captivating figure adorning it.

He reflected upon the expression that was on her face. It seemed like every time he saw her, she seemed more overwhelmed, more anxious and more lonely. Marcy had always presented a tough, indomitable exterior; even more so since she became pregnant. But Paul knew that beneath the surface, she was just as vulnerable as anyone.

She tried hard to hide it, but she was terrified of the unavoidable future that was barreling down upon her like a runaway train. Though she was far too proud to ever publicly admit it, she hated having to face parenthood all alone.

When Jeff had been around to give her a sturdy sense of support, Marcy had always seemed secure with her pregnancy. Tense, perhaps, but secure.

But since he left, Marcy had been visibly riddled with uncertainty and self-doubt. She didn't know if she had what it took to care for a child all by herself. Paul sensed that, deep down, Marcy would've given anything for someone to share that load with her; someone who would not only share the responsibilities with her, but also offer her some much-needed reassurance and stable companionship during those stressful times.

Of course, she didn't have to face parenthood alone.

Paul had decided, many weeks earlier that, if it were ever in the cards, he would gladly commit to a life with Marcy and their lovechild.

But he suspected that he would still face strong resistance to any suggestions of taking an active role in his child's life, much less becoming Marcy's live-in companion or boyfriend. Just because Marcy was feeling desperate inside didn't mean she was going to let down her tough exterior. If anything, it would probably make her even more stubborn.