Cavorting with Kathy

"I always thought that pregnant-women's-craving thing was made up. But I can't get enough ice cream."

She dropped a lump on her breast, which I carefully licked off. That sparked another fuck, with her on top this time.

I became slightly obsessed with her breasts, to the extent that one night she reluctantly allowed me to fuck them. She squeezed them together as I thrust gently, the tip of my cock showing above her tits. I came on them.

"Actually, that was fun!" she said, "We can do that again sometime."

Not only did I tit-fuck her again I pulled out from her cunt just as I climaxed and came on her bum, her belly and her tits at various times. She smiled indulgently.

"Don't waste it all, though," she said.

The four days passed too quickly. But I knew it had to end. Paul met me for a drink the week after, informing me that Kathy was pregnant. I acted surprised again and congratulated him. After a few more drinks he said,

"You know, I had a medical issue years ago, before I met you and before I met Kathy. They told me it was very unlikely that I'd ever father children. So this baby's a bit of a miracle."

I made some bland comment, but I was feeling something like shock.

It was four years before I heard from Kathy again. In the meantime I'd had a few longer affairs; I'd even been married and divorced. It had been a bad idea to marry. I wasn't anything like ready to settle down.

Kathy phoned me one day:

"Cam, can I see you?" she sounded tired and down, "There's something I want to talk...ask you."

"Sure," I replied, intrigued.

We met in a local coffee shop. I noticed when she arrived how tired she looked, but more than that, she looked drawn, exhausted. But not only did I feel desire for her I felt I wanted to take her in my arms and comfort her. She was still gorgeous underneath it all.

I waited patiently for her to explain what she wanted as she stared gloomily at her untouched coffee.

"Oh, God! Where to start!" She gave me a haunted look, took a deep breath and began,

"My daughter, Imogen. You remember I was pregnant last time we...you know? Well, Imogen was born that November. She seemed fine for the first three years, but then became ill..." She stopped, closed her eyes and covered her face. I put my hand on her forearm, reassuringly, I hoped. She continued,

"Eventually she was diagnosed with Leukaemia. Poor little soul. Anyway, they say that a stem cell transplant is her best hope." She broke off here and took a mouthful of her cold coffee. I waited.

"It turns out I'm incompatible even though I'm her mother. So, obviously Paul offered himself." She looked at me. "But the DNA test revealed that...he isn't the father."

I wasn't entirely surprised at this. It meant that I was, of course.

"So you want me to be a stem-cell donor?"

"Would you?" The appeal in her eyes was painful to see.

"Yes, of course. But what's involved?"

Her relief was palpable. She handed me a couple of leaflets she'd brought with her. I had to be tested and then the actual cells might be blood cells or bone-marrow cells. None of it seemed too onerous.

"And Paul's ok with all this?"

She gave me another pained, sad look.

"He left me," was all she said.

"Oh. Sorry," I said, "Ok, arrange it all and let me know." She hugged me very hard as she left and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. It felt good.

All the testing and the sampling procedure went well, as did the transplanting of the cells into little Imogen. Kathy called to give me frequent updates on her daughter's condition. It seemed to be working; she was definitely improving.

"Look, Kathy, " I asked in one of the phone calls, "Is there any way I could meet Imogen? Would it be appropriate do you think?"

There was a short silence. "Well, you are her father, so why not?" That was the first time the F- word had been used. I went round for tea a couple of days later. Kathy looked so much better when she answered the door. I pulled her into my arms, but she pulled away, looking quickly to see if her daughter had spotted us. "Not yet!" she said with a giggle.

The little girl was sitting at a small table when I walked into the sitting room. She was small, pale and her hair was only just beginning to grow back, presumably it had fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. She frowned at me.

"Hello, Imogen, my name's Cameron. You can call me Cam, if you like."

Her frown lessened a little.

"Did you give me stencils?"

I didn't understand at first, then I realised she was mispronouncing 'stem cells'.

"Yes, I did."

"I was sick. I'm better now."

"Well that's good, then."

She reached down beside her and came up with a piece of card which she handed to me.

"I made it for you."

It was a thank you card with a big red heart scrawled in it and the words 'thank you' in a very childish script.

"It was her idea," said Kathy smilingly, "when I told her you were coming around."

"That's lovely, Imogen, thank you."

She smiled at me. I've read about there being a special bond between parents and their children. I never quite believed it, but in that moment when I looked into my daughter's eyes as she smiled at me. I knew. It's true. I was instantly besotted with her. I knew I'd do absolutely anything; die for her, kill for her, anything.

"I'm colouring," she said. There was an open colouring book and pencils on the table before her. I sat opposite and asked if she'd mind if I did some colouring."Grown-ups don't do colouring! " she frowned at me. "Mummy does sometimes though. If you want."

I chose a dolphin.

"You have to stay in the lines," she told me sternly.

The time passed very quickly.

"Will you come again tomorrow?" she asked as I left.

"I'd love to come again, but it's up to Mummy."

Imogen looked at Kathy. "He can come again whenever he wants to," she said.

"Yay!"

I went a couple of times a week. Imogen grew stronger. I coloured with her, read her stories, played strange games involving dolls, princesses, dragons, vampires and all sorts, the rules of which I never understood. But it made her happy. And that made Kathy happy. We hugged a lot, and I managed to plant the occasional kiss on her cheek.

"We have to be careful. I can't afford to upset her."

"Sure, I get it." The poor child had had the trauma of her illness, then Paul leaving. A new man in her life was a possible cause of stress which might re-trigger the leukaemia.

One day as I was reading Imogen a story and she was cuddled up very close to me, she said, "You could stay over. Then you'd be there when we have breakfast."

"Well, Immy, that'd be lovely, but there's nowhere for me to sleep."

She thought for a minute, looking disappointed, then she brightened,

"You can share mummy's bed. It's huge. She used to share it with the other daddy. I'll ask her." She scampered off to Kathy who was in the kitchen and came back smiling and bright-eyed.

"Mummy says she doesn't mind sharing with you! Yay! You can stay!" She flung herself into my arms.

Kathy came in with a very smug look on her face and blew me a kiss.

We put Imogen to bed and I stayed with her until she fell asleep, which wasn't very long as she was still a little weak. Kathy and I ate quietly looking into each other's eyes and saying little. Once the washing up and tidying was done we headed straight for the bedroom, though it was very early. Kathy disappeared into the bathroom. I undressed and slipped into bed. My cock was already at attention.

Kathy emerged from the bathroom, completely naked. She stood for a few seconds allowing me to admire her body. She was looking very good. Her breasts were big, but not sagging. Her hips had spread, but all the excess weight she'd put on when Imogen was ill had fallen off. She looked great.

"We'll have to be really quiet," she whispered as she closed the bedroom door and climbed into bed beside me. 'You're the noisy one' I thought as I reached for her. She took hold of my cock straight away and guided me into her. She was very aroused. We fucked gently but thoroughly, and, yes, very quietly. That first fuck was soon followed by another one. After that, Kathy opened the bedroom door so she could hear if Imogen called out, and gave me a pair of pyjamas from the wardrobe. I looked at her in surprise.

"At about six o'clock, Imogen will come in and climb into bed. I think it's best you have clothes on."

Sure enough at five forty-five I was awoken by a little voice saying,

"Wabbit wants a cuddle,"

Imogen was standing by the bed holding a stuffed rabbit.

"Oh, well, that's easy," I said taking the rabbit and holding it in my right arm. "I think Imogen might like a cuddle too," Imogen smiled and climbed into bed beside me. I put my left arm around her and planted a kiss on top of her head. I looked to my right and saw Kathy beaming at me.

I was never happier.

It wasn't too long before I moved in permanently. When I first suggested it, Kathy said, "I'd like that, but let's not make any promises we can't keep. I'm not going to insist on monogamy. I know what you're like. But I do want one promise."

"What's that?"

"if we, us, goes pear-shaped, I want you to promise you'll still be a father to Imogen. She adores you. I don't want her hurt."

"That's an easy promise. And, by the way, I 'm not the man I was. I gave up bed-hopping."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

I haven't had another woman since I moved in. I have everything I want or need between Kathy and Imogen. A few months later Kathy announced that she was pregnant again. I was genuinely pleased.

"We'd better get as much sex in as we can in the next nine months, then," I said jokingly.

She looked at me. "Eight months. I'm not having sex in the last month. And for a few months after the birth probably. You'll have to make do with blow jobs."

Isobel joined our family. I'm just as besotted with her as I am with Imogen and Kathy. We moved to a bigger apartment. Imogen was at playschool and is now at school and since Kathy and I both work from home, there's ample time for sex during the day. We make the most of it.