Error Correction Ch. 06

The next day, I was preparing to shower and dress for lunch when I was startled by a hammering knock. I opened the door. Cynthia.

She was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, rumpled noticeably. Her hair was mussed, her lipstick mostly gone but for a smear in the corner of her mouth. I had never seen her less than perfectly turned out, so I wondered for an instant if she had picked someone up and had revenge sex, or if she had slept under a bridge, or had just walked the streets all night. In any case, she looked like she had been crying for a long time. She stomped into the room. If I had not danced out of the way she would have sent me on my ass.

She pivoted to face me.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" she yelled.

"That's me," I agreed.

"How could you have done this to me? You fucking asshole! You don't know what you've done to us! Mike -- did you rape her?"

That pissed me off. "Rape her? Are you fucking kidding me? I love her. I would never harm her!"

"Except for setting her up to get fucked by your friends with the big pricks!"

"I told you the truth. And when she came to my room yesterday, she took her clothes off by herself. She spread her legs by herself. I did not even touch her the whole time until my cock was sliding into her. She came right away, and she came very hard. But she had plenty of time before that to tell me no. I made sure she had every opportunity to tell me to go to hell, to stop. She didn't say a word until we had fucked two times."

This revelation set her off and she lost her composure. I had never seen her cry. She started to sob. "You don't know what you've done."

"I won't come between you two. I promise."

"Come between us?" she was yelling again. "You're putting a baby between us! She will have two babies, you fucking asshole! I was--"

I saw something clearly that my stupid man brain did not have the capacity to detect before. "You were supposed--?"

"Yes, god damn it. I was supposed to have the next one. My baby was next. Now we can't--" She cried silently, her strong shoulders shaking.

"Why not?" I was running through a minefield, I knew, and might be blown to bits any second.

"Because we can't afford three babies! I don't know how we are going to afford two, thank you very much!"

She was clenching and unclenching her fists, and when I said, "Is that all?" I thought she was going to swing on me. I spread my arms in surrender to signal my vulnerability. I would have taken a punch. I deserved it. I had maneuvered my wife into cheating on her girlfriend to get pregnant. Just typing that sentence hurts my brain.

"What I mean is -- I will pay all expenses for Becky's child. And if you want to have a baby, it's on me. I'm buying the next round."

My joke fell astoundingly flat. She kept crying.

"Have you planned it?" I found a box of tissues on the desk and handed them to her.

"Hell yes. I have been dreaming of it for years. Meeting Becky, being a couple with her, made it more... possible. It finally seemed like something I could actually do and not just keep dreaming about."

"Is there a clinic at your hospital you can use?

She gave me a glare. "I am not using some stranger's sperm. And I am not starting my baby by squirting some stranger's cum into me through a piece of plastic tubing."

I nodded.

"Besides, I wanted my baby and Becky's baby to be real siblings."

I gritted my teeth instinctively, then made myself let it go. "I am sure we could track Andre down."

She laughed as she wiped away tears. "Jesus, Mike, you described the tool on that guy pretty graphically. I may be a big girl but I have a petite vagina. I can touch my cervix with my little finger. I would never get him up there."

"He could just donate...."

"No. I told you. I want to make a baby with love. I want the father to love me, to make love with me. I was married, Mike. I'm not 100% no take backs lesbian. I like men. Well, some men. I like being fucked by men." As she was speaking, her body posture subtly opened up. Her hips came a fraction of an inch closer to me. She looked me square in the eye. I started to receive the opening bits of a strange but not altogether unfamiliar message.

"I... um...."

"I know both of your daughters. They are intelligent, beautiful, compassionate human beings."

"You..."

She ignored my stupidity and my sudden lack of English. "You and Becky made great kids. Your baby with Becky will be a great kid."

"You can't. Seriously."

"I was up late last night after what you and Becky told me. I was devastated. I could not stop crying. I found myself in a bar and men were hitting on me. I'm used to being hit on, Mike. I could have easily gone home with just about any one of them and gotten impregnated. But I could not help comparing every one of them to you. Mike, my mother always told me a man can be judged by the women he loves. I didn't know any of those strange guys, but I know Becky in my soul. And I love her. And I know that she loves you. Which all adds up to...."

I waited for it to add up, but the math portion was over.

"Mike," Cynthia said. Still wiping tears from her eyes, she reached out and took my hand and kissed it. "Would you make a baby with me?

Her hand was hot. The heat from her hand ran through my body, every artery, vein, bone. I tried to swallow but had forgotten how.

The walls of the room rushed away from me. The air was too thin to breathe.

"We need to talk to Becky." I croaked.

I caught Becky in the middle of playing with our three grandkids. No -- four. Soon five? My brain was not firing right. Damn math again.

Becky came into the room and Cynthia instantly smothered her in a tight embrace. Cynthia spoke her next words into Becky's ear, hushed, but they rang like church bells.

"Becky, darling, I want Mike to make a baby with me."

Becky pulled back, looked at each of us with absolutely no expression. Here was her turn to feel jealousy, or betrayal, or anger, or all of the above and more. Here was where the rage might detonate, where her estranged husband had reentered her life, tricked her into cheating on her lover, knocked her up, and broken them. Had I, had Cynthia and I, just permanently destroyed two couples?

My darling wife, the love of my life, my best friend always, just reached and took my hand -- the one Cynthia had held -- and said quietly, "That sounds like a great idea."

They kissed. They kissed like new lovers, like there was no tomorrow, they kissed like there was a deadline to meet. They fell onto the bed as I watched in horny amazement. They removed each other's clothes with a smooth efficiency no man undressing a woman could ever hope to replicate, they kissed, they touched and squeezed and fondled and fingered. I smelled perfume and soap and those female juices that smell like Christmas candy and funk at the same time. They kissed lip to lip, then worked down each other's bodies and switched around without effort.

I had time to appreciate the contrast: Becky still thin and muscular, her familiar conical tits topped by large puffy flesh-colored nipples, her auburn bush trimmed neatly. Cynthia was heavier, rounder, her breasts larger, hanging in a wonderful curve, nipples dark and small and at the moment looking hard as rubies, her blonde muff a wild tangle of wet kinky hair.

They kissed head to foot, head to tail, head to pussy. Becky was on top, her smaller body allowing her lover's naked pink flesh show all around her. They worked around the height difference with practiced efficiency. They licked and sucked and groaned and when I shuffled around to get a better viewing angle, Becky looked up at me and smiled wickedly.

I mouthed "I love you." She mouthed, "I know," and looked pointedly down at my crotch. My gaze followed. I was wearing those comfortable loose pants again, without briefs, and my prick was tenting it out. Straight out. Good boy, I thought.

I looked back at her just as Cynthia found her clit with extreme prejudice. Becky closed her eyes and howled and tensed. After she had recovered, she returned the favor, tonguing Cynthia into a thrashing orgasm. I felt proud, like I had at least taught her something.

The two relaxed and Becky rolled off. She looked up at me and said with all sincerity, "Husband, would you please breed my girlfriend?"

I swear that Cynthia nearly started cumming again just at the words and the erotic way that Becky had said them. I shed my clothes and crawled up between Cynthia's goddess-like thighs. She needed no foreplay. She was ready and she was willing and I just inserted myself. She groaned in appreciation. I pushed in -- and hit bottom. True to her description, the end of my cock rammed her cervix when I was only about three-fourths of the way in. She winced, so I pulled back. For the first time since I had battled Becky's hymen, I felt like John fucking Holmes. I pushed back in carefully until I was just touching her little dome. This made her gasp, but in pleasure. I pushed gently against it, then withdrew my prick all the way out of her with a jerk. Her eyes opened wide, and I inched forward, over her clit, spreading her lips, and inside. Slowly slowly slowly, touching and sliding on her little button and pressing then whipping out. Then repeat. Again, and again, and again. Her wonderful sexy face contorted in happy lust. She whispered, "Mmmm. New trick." and moaned deeply. I turned my head to Becky, to see if she was still accepting of this, and she leaned over and kissed me. Then she kissed Cynthia.

I had read in one of my text books about the male physiological response when presented with a vagina. It was as you might expect. The effect on the male was intensified if the vagina was new to him -- the classic 'strange' -- and intensified yet more if the vagina was unfamiliar and fertile. I give the author of that text full marks, for I could not have held back the powerful squeezes deep in my groin with a winch. I jerked and spurted and cried out. Cynthia grabbed my head and kissed me hard, sucking my tongue as she returned my cries with more moans, completing our two-part harmony.

I collapsed on her, still kissing those lips and caressing her breasts, then I fell overboard. I was dry, exhausted, sore, empty. The room was quiet except for the sound of three people panting.

I thought I had fallen asleep and was dreaming when I felt hot wetness engulf my shriveled cock. I looked down to see Becky taking me in her mouth and working my relaxed member with long pulling sucks. I stared at this scene in disbelief. First of all, there was no chance in hell of me getting it up again, and second, my modest wife of twenty plus years had never taken me into her mouth. But here she was giving me vigorous attention like I had paid for it. It was surreal layered upon surreal.

I admired the beautiful face I had held and stroked a thousand times, the lips I had kissed with such tender purpose on our wedding day. All the closeness in that long marriage, the hugs, the tears, the disagreements, the lovemaking, the swirl of all that familiarity passed though my body like weird adrenaline. The novelty of this very personal and erotic act that I had for years imagined but had always been denied. And I started to get hard. It was a fucking Christmas miracle.

Encouraged, she increased her tempo and her vacuum. She stopped to lick me like a Popsicle, all the time regarding me with those brown liquid eyes that are part of my identity and my soul now. Then she must have decided that I was rigid enough and she reached out, took my hand, and pulled me up and over and onto her.

We ended up face to face, slowly fucking. Our eyes locked together. No words were spoken, none were needed, none existed to make the proper communication. She was worn out, I was wrung out, but we fucked. Steady, in waves, we slid against each other.

I felt Cynthia's breath in my ear and her hand on my nipple. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Becky laughed. I laughed. Then I gasped and started to cum. It was a physiological impossibility, but I came. Not a lot, not very powerfully, and without a sound. But Becky felt it all the same, and she responded. Quietly and politely, she came. But with all of her body. She was committed to that orgasm with every bit of her womanhood. She wrapped her legs around me and squeezed the air from my lungs and looked me in the eyes and whispered, "Oh. God. Yes."

"I woke up some time later," I said. "Frazzled, covered with dried and drying juices and feeling like I had run the Marathon."

"I stumbled for the bathroom, then turned around and froze, stunned by perfection. A thin part in the drapes was letting in a shaft of sunlight. There on the bed, like a painting from the Renaissance, Becky and Cynthia lay sleeping side-by-side. They were slightly turned toward each other, their outer legs bent. Each had one hand on the other's stomach, below the belly button where the womb is. Each had the other hand on their lover's hand, fingers intertwined. Their faces were blissful."

"I almost wish I had taken a picture of them, but pictures are flat and incomplete. My memory of that moment will be fresh forever."

"And that was the end of my little scheme."

Dr. Mr. Lewis scratched his chin. "The end? You put a lot of effort into this. Are you serious that you have nothing else planned?"

I had spent the session updating them. I also told them for the first time -- after double checking that I had the protection of full confidentiality -- how I had obtained access to Becky's complete records from her pregnancy with Amelia. How her OB/GYN had been convinced to confide in me --the legal husband, after all -- that her pregnancy had in fact not been high risk. I did not know that at the time, so it does not make me less of an ass.

"She said that Becky had a world-class reproductive system and that women who give birth at her age often demonstrate increased fertility for a few years after delivery. Nobody knows why, but if I had not had that assurance, I would never have gone ahead with what I did."

I had also given them a short summary of my thesis. Which would be submitted for the approval of the faculty of the Harvard Department of Psychology with all the names and many dates changed to protect the identities of the subjects.

"Becky's father was a dominant figure while she was young, while her sexuality was being shaped and fixed. I don't think he physically abused her, but he certainly left his mark, When I married her, Becky transferred her father's moral authority, for lack of a better term, to me. As her husband, I was granted access to her bed, but as her father figure I was not allowed access to her libido. When I started my studies, I thought of that unthreatening persona as the daddy, Father Michael. He had the right to intercourse, but only that and no more. There was a fundamental conflict in her psyche that was never resolved and that often frustrated me. Then Father Michael removed the block, and gave her permission to share her body. Which she did. Spectacularly."

"I can't deny my selfish motives. I wanted my wife back and I wanted that unrestrained sexual behavior I had witnessed first-hand with her two lovers. So I came up with the idea of transforming myself into a more dangerous version of Father Michael. Call him Lover Mike or Bad Boy Mike or whatever. I grew this beard and worked out. Gained some muscle, tanned myself up, got a rugged hair style, and practiced demanding instead of asking. You recall that neither of her lovers asked politely. One led her by the hand up the stairs, the other just lifted her up."

"When she came to my room that day, she saw both the trusted Father Michael giving her permission and this exciting new man who exploited that permission. She obeyed the directions this hybrid being gave her. She opened herself to this new entity. Her orgasm, one like nothing Father Michael had ever experienced, confirmed my hypothesis that her amygdala might take the powerful emotions of inhibition conditioned by the Father Michael figure and mix them into the new and very exciting and equally powerful loss of inhibition demonstrated with her lovers when Dangerous Mike demanded her submission. I thought that if this were so, she would experience a very potent reaction. She did -- she experienced perhaps six forceful orgasms over those two days, the intensity of which I had never seen. And it seems that the effect is long-lasting. Once the connection between Michael the husband and sexual restraint was severed, the ability to enjoy multiorgasmic sex with him continued."

I thought that I caught Dr. Ms. Lewis suppressing the tiniest little smile.

"I think that Becky had a very different relationship with her mother and thus no instilled prohibition against sex with another woman. Cynthia confirmed that Becky has been unrestrained with her since their very first time."

"When I said this was the end of my scheme, I meant I was done setting up situations and mind games. That shit is way too exhausting. From now on I will follow my heart. The material things are easy to take care of. Amelia is my daughter, legally and spiritually. I love her as much as my other children. Becky's child is of course mine. We decided not to proceed with a divorce until after the baby is born, for legal reasons. Cynthia's baby I will probably adopt, and my lawyers will figure out a way to protect Cynthia. Financially we will have no worries. I am still ready to divorce the love of my life so she may marry another one of my loves. I will even walk her down the aisle and give her away. That sounds certifiable, but pieces of paper don't tell your heart what to do."

"I forgot to mention that they are both pregnant now. They found out within a week of each other, and when they did, they came to me and announced that we were getting paternity tests as soon as it was possible. I was angry that they would insult me by not trusting my trust in them, but as Cynthia pointed out, 'Men can be assholes but women can be cunts.' They took me into the clinic so I could ensure that my sample was handed in and took me in again so I could open the sealed envelope with the results. Chain of custody, just like on TV. Of course the little ones are mine. I never doubted those two. But again, Cynthia pointed out that she could have gone out that night in Boston and gotten pregnant and she wanted me to never even have to worry about it. I love that woman."

"For the rest of our babies' lives, until birth and far beyond, I will be there for my lovers and they will be there for their girlfriend. Or wife or whatever we all end up being to each other. I will find a way and a place for us all to live together. I don't know who will be with who at any one time and I don't care. I have shed jealousy and foolish pride and replaced it with joy and love, and I am going to need a lot more time with you two to help me along this weird journey."

The good Drs. Mr. and Ms. Lewis smiled at last.

"Actually," Dr. Ms. Lewis said, "we are in the process of informing all of our patients that we will be taking a year's sabbatical."

The dismay must have showed on my face, for Dr. Mr. Lewis reached over and rested his hand on Dr. Ms. Lewis's tummy. "We're having twins."