Did She, or Didn't She?

Did She, or Didn't She?

Only her hairdresser knows for sure

**

Melissa was a babe. Short and stacked, with a pretty face that looked up at me adoringly. She was the perfect wife, the perfect life partner, the woman I wanted to grow old with. Before all that, however, we wanted children, and I was having a lot of fun trying to knock Melissa up. We had been married seven years, and we had a nice group of friends, and we lived close to Melissa's family. Melissa's mom, in particular, was chomping at the bit for us to give her some grandbabies. I even worried that when we actually had a baby, we'd have a custody battle with Melissa's mom.

Despite all of our friends, and her family right there, Melissa's closest friend seemed to be her hairdresser, Brandy. She and Brandy were thick as thieves, and they gossiped like there was no tomorrow. I enjoyed that Melissa had made such a good friend. Brandy, it seemed to me, was a sweetheart.

Melissa used to tell me about her discussions with Brandy. They'd talk about the best bars, the nicest clubs, the restaurants that gave good value, the meager tourist sites in the area, and whether or not Aruba was the best choice for a Caribbean vacation, to name a few.

"Do you ever talk about sex?" I remember asking her.

"Mark! How could you ask such a question!" Melissa had replied.

"Nevertheless, do you?"

"Yes, of course, but any details are covered under the hairdresser/client privilege, and you'll never hear about them!" Melissa said.

"I hadn't heard that the Supremes had extended the lawyer-patient privilege rule to beauticians?"

"Well, I can't help it if you're not up to date. It's the famous case Kardashian versus the State of California," Melissa replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"So, you're not going to tell me anything, I guess?"

"Only that Brandy is having a hard time with men, and I try to help her, and that's ALL you're going to get from me!" she said.

I teased a little more, and Melissa stopped me cold when she said, "Okay, okay, be that way. I'll spill, under your third degree. The truth is, the dark secret you so want to know, is that Brandy uses Kotex Pads (sanitary napkins), and I use tampons. There; happy?"

Far be it from me to have my sweet wife violate the hairdresser/client privilege any further than she already had! I dropped the subject, and had another swig of my beer.

Well, when everything is good, something inevitably will go wrong. This time, it was my job. Maybe it's always one's job. I went into a depression, and it affected all sorts of things, including my self-image, how I thought Melissa viewed me, and, of course, my sex life. I had trouble getting an erection, and that's all I'll say about that! I was so depressed that Melissa started going alone to the parties we were invited to. I'd stay home and wallow in self-pity.

Two things happened simultaneously. I finally got a prescription for Viagra, and I got a new job! It paid more, too. It did have one flaw, however: It was in southern Wisconsin, and we lived in central Indiana. It was a solid six-hour drive to the new job, and that's if I didn't stop for coffee, to urinate, for snacks, or for gas. Plus, there was 80 miles of Chicagoland I had to drive through (yes, I clocked it on my odometer), and so I had to time my drives to avoid the worst traffic.

Melissa didn't want to move. After all, she herself had a good job right there in Indiana, plus we lived close to her family, and we had a vast collection of friends. Finally, there was Brandy: Nobody else could conceivably take care of her hair like Brandy could!

So, after a bit of a fight, we became a commuting couple.

I got a nice apartment in southern Wisconsin. Melissa helped me choose it, and outfit it. I became Melissa's weekend lover. It wasn't easy, driving home on Friday nights, and back to Wisconsin on Sunday nights. We partied our hearts out on Saturday nights, and I continued my quest not to find the holy grail, but to knock up Melissa. Trying to knock up Melissa was more fun, in any event!

It was a draining life style. I almost got into accidents twice, and one time I even fell asleep while driving. Thanks be to God, and the Highway Department, that they have those bumps at the edges of the highway. More than once they woke me up as my Kia Sonata would drift over onto them.

One near accident woke me up to the risks I was taking. I was also putting other people at risk. Sleepy driving is just, quite simply, not a good idea! So, when I was sick, or just too exhausted, I'd take a weekend off, and just stay in Wisconsin, while Melissa would remain in Indiana. We thought about meeting in Chicago, but Melissa hated driving, and she hated driving a lot when it was in a big city. Plus, the hotels in Chicago were expensive, and we were still a bit under water vis à vis our credit card bills.

Melissa was a country girl, through and through. She was not the kind of girl who would enjoy a weekend in Chicago, even if the shopping was magnificent. What truly convinced me of her country girl nature, was when she once told me the first time she had sex, real sex, was in a corn field. What a way to get deflowered! That story was one of my favorites of Melissa's sexual exploits before we were married.

Another one of Melissa's adventures when she was young and having fun, was skinny dipping. A bunch of friends all went skinny dipping in James' pool. James was one of the rich kids. She ended up fucking two different guys during the skinny dipping, she finally confessed to me. One of them was her boyfriend Ralph at the time, but when he got too drunk to function, and had to go lie down inside, his friend Mike quickly profited from his absence and seduced my sweet farm girl Melissa. It took a while to extract that last little detail from my adorable wife.

Melissa was ashamed to have let two guys fuck her at the same pool party. She was not ashamed, as near as I could tell, about having cheated on her boyfriend Ralph. "Ralph and I were only going steady", she explained, "but it's not like we were married, or anything. I was just having fun." She added, "It was fun to see Mike's face when I told him he had just had sloppy seconds. I thought his eyes were going to pop right out of his head!" she said, and then giggled to herself at the memory of it all.

That was all long ago, and long before she settled down and married me. Melissa's explanation for her behavior was always the same: "I'm a farm girl, Mark! That's what farm girls do."

Technology was our friend, especially Facetime on our iPhones. It was as if Melissa were right there, with me, and I could read her emotions in her face as the words came out of her mouth. Naturally we succumbed to the inevitable, and occasionally Melissa would give me a treat and Facetime me while she was topless. I loved it! Usually I'd use Quicktime to record a Facetime call with Melissa, and then I would re-watch it to accompany some solo time to myself, before bed. I'd always get a good look at her goodies; Melissa was generous that way.

**

Melissa began to get upset, since she was not getting pregnant, and we had been trying for four years. She had noticed herself that her super fertile time, when she was ovulating, was for some reason often mid-week. When it was Wednesday-Thursday-Friday, she would attack me when I arrived, exhausted, late on Friday, and we'd make wild love. The woman was an animal, but on those nights I couldn't cum in her mouth, or in her ass, or squirt on her boobs or even her face; no, I had to cum exclusively in her pussy, and as deep inside her as my cock permitted.

Wisconsin is surprisingly advanced considering what dumb-ass people it has within its borders. Senator Ron Johnson, anyone? He was elected, too! It turns out it was easy to get myself tested, to see how talented my little swimmers were. They were not that talented. I wasn't sterile, but the Doctor warned me it would take a while, and a little luck, to get my wife pregnant. He told me, in so many polysyllabic words, that we'd have to fuck like bunny rabbits every chance we got to get Melissa pregnant.

I did all the right things: I joined a gym in Wisconsin and exercised, I took fenugreek supplements, and vitamin D, and I ate lots of foods rich in anti-oxidants. I couldn't quit smoking, because I had never smoked in the first place. I wish I had been a smoker -- that way I could have quit smoking and felt all virtuous. Finally, I took Ashwaganda supplements, even if I had no idea what the f**k Ashwaganda actually was. It comes from India, and judging by the population of India, Indian men have no problems with fertility!

Around the middle of the third year of this @#$%^&*! commuting, I had an interesting Facetime call, on Tuesday evening, with my sexy wife Melissa. She was topless, as she usually was at that point when we spoke, but also, she was with Brandy. She was calling from our bedroom. Brandy was also topless! There was a cacophony of giggling coming across the microwaves from Indiana. The girls were clearly drunk, or stoned, or both, or high on some other drug.

Before you ask, yes, I got to see Brandy's boobs, and yes, they are quite nice, and yes, obviously they are sexy, and yes, I was very glad to be recording the Facetime call! The call was coming along nicely before I detected a man's voice in the background. I asked about it, and my somewhat the worse for wear wife explained it was from Brandy's new boyfriend Sam, and Melissa was there to chaperone.

Melissa turned the phone so I could meet the new boyfriend, and as she did, it glided by a mirror, and I noticed that both women were not just topless, they were both wearing panties, amid nothing else. Nothing at all. I wasn't sure about it, since it happened so quickly, but I confirmed it a bit later that night, when I reviewed the recording of the call. Sam was fully dressed, but still, I found it disturbing: my wife being nearly naked in a room with two other people, one of them being a guy, and me stuck in Wisconsin where the state drink was milk!

In the following months, when it came to discussing what on God's Green Earth happened that one time I had a FaceTime call with Melissa when she was almost naked, along with Brandy, and with Sam standing to the side, Melissa did her best impression of a littleneck clam. I let it go. Melissa had doubtless been as high as a kite, and reliving her youth. We continued our exhausting life style, with me commuting and then Melissa attacking me when I arrived, trying to get me to knock her up. I was consuming all the Ashwaganda my poor body could handle.

There was another episode, however, and it was a bit more troubling. Melissa and Brandy were at a party one Saturday night when I was sick with the flu and couldn't make the long drive home. We still called, via Facetime, even if the party was noisy as hell! As we talked, there was a guy I didn't know, hanging all over Melissa, and one time, while my drunken wife was telling me how much she missed me and loved me, the drunk guy hanging all over her (I later learned his name was Jim) began pawing at Melissa's left boob, right in front of our FaceTime call.

Jim slipped his hand under Melissa's top, and since she wasn't wearing a bra, he was directly fondling her boob, while Melissa pretended not to notice, and giggled through the phone to me. There was a pause, then Melissa said, "Just a minute honey; hold on," and a minute later Melissa was back, and she was now topless! Right at the party, where many of our friends could see her and could see her naked boobs! Then Jim had his mouth on one of Melissa's nipples, and she told him to stop, playfully slapping his head away from her boob.

"Turn the phone so I can see others at the party," I said, and giggling, Melissa did just that. Around a quarter of the women at the party were topless, and some -- including Brandy, who of course was there -- were wearing only their panties. I sighed, and Melissa and I continued to talk, and I heard her say some more things like, "Stop. No! Those stay on, Jim!"

Upon questioning, I learned Jim was removing Melissa's Daisy Dukes she had worn to the party (Melissa has good legs and looks dynamite in Daisy Dukes), but she managed, only through admonitions, with some forceful slapping, to keep her panties on. Brandy grabbed the phone from her, and gave me a very drunk, "Hi, Mark! Want to see my boobs?"

"They're lovely. Is that cum splashed on them?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. Oops! Sorry, I forgot!" Brandy replied.

"Keep Melissa faithful to me, will you? She's had a lot to drink," I said.

"Boy, has she! You know, I think cum should be the State Drink of Indiana, instead of water, don't you?" Brandy said slurring her words just a bit.

Melissa came back on, having wrested the phone from Brandy, and she was drunk and happy, and showed me her whole body. "How do you like my new black lace panties?" she asked.

"Did Brandy help to pick them out?" Melissa can never make a clothing decision without a consult, and she sure as the dickens didn't ask me!

"Uh ... yeah, I think so. Honey, I don't feel so good, I think I'm going to heave, and ..."

"Go heave in the toilet, Melissa," I said. "See you next weekend, okay?"

"Uh.. yeah.. gotta go. Brandy, where's the f**king toilet?!" she yelled, as we ended the call.

**

Eight weeks later when I showed up one seemingly random Friday night I wasn't attacked as usual by a sexually starved sexpot. Instead the lights were low, candles were on the table, and chilled French champagne was sitting on the table, waiting to be opened. Usually Melissa has a Scotch on the rocks waiting for my arrival, but this night was different.

"Honey, you did it! You sure took your time about it, but you finally did it! You knocked me up! Look at the pregnancy test sticks! Oh baby, I'm so happy! I made your favorite meal, too. I hope you're hungry. You're my hero!" Melissa said. She was clearly beside herself with joy. She's not that strong, but she gave me a bone crushing hug.

Around seven to eight months later, Melissa gave us both, and the world, a tiny baby girl. She was the most beautiful thing I ever laid eyes on. I was totally smitten. Now I haven't mentioned it yet, but Melissa is a blue eyed, blond haired, sexpot (and yes, even as a new Mom I considered her to be a sexpot), and as she nursed little Hazel, Hazel's eyes gradually changed from newborn blue to their true color, which was a lovely chestnut brown.

I too have blue eyes, and Melissa used to say I have Paul Newman eyes. She used to buy Paul Newman's Own salad dressing, just because of my eyes. Melissa loved my blue eyes, and she always spoke of them lovingly.

I looked it up. Two blue eyed parents can in fact have a brown eyed baby, but it's rare. Still, Hazel's brown eyes, plus my pathetic sperm, plus I was only around on the weekends, and sometimes not even on the weekends, got me thinking. Was I really the father?

I took a week off from my job on what I called paternity leave. The manager was not happy, but I told him I had to see and bond with my baby, and that was all there was to it. Besides, I was exhausted from the long commutes, week after week after week. Luckily, even though Melissa had just given birth, she was still horny all the time, and I had a wild week of almost nonstop sex. I was mainlining Viagra just to keep up with Melissa, who had stopped sex during her ninth month, upon the advice of her obstetrician.

Despite all the sex, I still managed to eat, and to sleep (a lot!), and to bond with tiny Hazel, even if she mostly slept, pooped, and nursed at Melissa's gorgeous breasts. Hazel slept so much, she even fell asleep while nursing at Melissa's breast, but the instinct to suck is so strong, that she continued to nurse even while asleep. I felt it was a beautiful sight to watch our baby nurse.

Sometimes, Melissa, exhausted too, would sleep through the nursing. Then it was my job to move Hazel to the other boob for the second half of her meal. I've always been a fan of a woman's boobs, so I loved doing that. Melissa's boobs seemed to be a little bigger, too. I attributed it to all the milk inside them.

Friends dropped by to visit, and our home was a welcoming place. The two visitors who came around most often were Brandy and Sam. I began to realize that it was not only Brandy, but also Sam who played big roles in Melissa's life, especially during the week, when typically, I was off in the land of milkmaids, and cheese heads.

Gradually I realized Sam seemed closer to Hazel than he was to Brandy, even though he was advertised as Brandy's partner. I buttonholed Brandy while Sam was playing with the baby and Melissa was occupied, and told her about my observations.

"Didn't Melissa tell you? Sam and I broke up over a month ago. He wanted to play the field, and I wanted a faithful boyfriend. I mean, I didn't mind a little group sex from time to time, but I wasn't about to be one of Sam's several girlfriends, you know?" Brandy said.

"Besides, some of the others were married, and there's rumors Sam is the father of their babies. His condoms have a way of being defective. Who needs that?" Brandy added.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry about the break-up, Brandy. I know you felt strongly about Sam," I said.

"Thanks, Mark. I've always known you're a stand-up guy," she replied.

"By the way, with the group sex, was Melissa involved?" I asked.

"Sam has always had a crush on Melissa, but most of the time Melissa and I prevented that sort of thing from happening. You know how Melissa gets when she's drunk and high. I think the whole town has seen her gorgeous boobs, at one time or another," Brandy said.

"Yes, I know, she does tend to get a little exhibitionist most of the time when she's good and drunk," I replied.

"Well, it's a good thing oral sex can't make a girl pregnant, is all I can say," Brandy joked, and then muttered, "Oops," in a low voice, as if she were speaking to herself.

"Brandy, did Melissa suck off other guys? Did she fuck them, too?" I asked.

"You should talk to Melissa about such things, Mark," Brandy said, blushing a lovely shade of Candy Apple Red.

"Am I the father of Hazel?" I asked. "I mean the biological father, as well as the actual father?"

"Of course, you are!" Brandy said. "You're the only guy for Melissa. She talks about you all the time, and she cries at night sometimes when you're off in the land of milk and more milk," she said.

"Wisconsin has bees, too," I said.

"Huh?"

"Bees make honey. It's the land of milk and honey, Brandy," I said.

"Not according to Melissa. She calls it the land of milk and milkmaids. She figures you're porking a couple of them up there, and that's how she got the STD," Brandy said.

"The STD?" I asked.

"You have to know. You gave it to her. You doubtless got it from some Wisconsin slut," Brandy said.

"I don't have, and have never had, an STD. If Melissa had one, as you say, she got it from someone else," I said, as I turned to look at Sam. Brandy also turned and looked at Sam.

"Maybe we should get checked," Brandy said.

"Maybe we should. I know you can get STDs from sucking off infected guys, but what I want to know now is, am I the biological father of Hazel?" I asked Brandy, in a rather firm tone of voice, as Sam looked lovingly at Hazel, and Brandy looked as if she wanted to be anywhere else but where she was.

"Of course, you are," Brandy nervously replied. "Don't be silly. What kind of host are you, anyway, Mark? I need a drink!"

"Another Coke Zero?" I asked.

"No, a glass of Scotch whisky, please," she said.

I looked at her. I knew the truth, or as much of it as I ever would know. I left to get Brandy her whisky. From the corner of my eye, I saw Melissa slap Sam's hands as he tried to prevent her from covering the boob our baby had just fed from. Melissa giggled, as I seethed. I got a Scotch for myself, as well.