Hitting the Bottom Ch. 09

Our baby is in there, nestled inside her womb.

The thought is almost as overwhelming as it was a short while ago when I first learned of the fact, but now I push it resolutely to the back of my head. We said we won't think about it right now. Instead, I want this moment to be just about us; just Sandra and me, loving each other. I bend my head and kiss lower.

Her hands grasp my shoulders and she spreads her legs wider, tilting her hips forward to give me better access. I use both my thumbs to part her folds and take a moment to feast my eyes before swiping my tongue all along her pink cleft, tasting her, and then fitting my mouth to her nether lips for a long, leisurely, intimate french kiss.

Her scent and taste, her tangy sleekness, her smooth thighs, her fingers tugging at my hair and scraping my skull - sensations surround me, and I succumb to them. This is heaven. I bend even lower to let my tongue delve deeper, and my nose bumps her clit repeatedly. Her hands tighten in my hair as she grinds herself against my face, seeking a firmer touch.

"Harder, please...!" Her voice is breathless. Horny.

Her unexpected boldness excites me beyond belief. Suddenly there's nothing I want more than for her to take her pleasure from me, just like that. To tell me and show me exactly what she wants. To fucking make me give it to her. I slide down to sit on the floor, my shoulders against the front of the sofa, and tilt my head all the way back to meet her heavy-lidded eyes.

"Ride my face, baby. Show me what you need."

She gasps her surprise, but doesn't hesitate. Placing her shins firmly on the cushion on either side of my head she leans one hand on the back of the sofa, the other curling at my nape as she locks her eyes with mine, her swollen, pink pussy hovering mere inches from my face.

"Do it, baby. Ride me." I say, my voice too gruff to be recognizable. Whimpering, Sandra shifts forward, pressing herself hard against my open, waiting mouth. Almost immediately she starts grinding, rolling and tilting her hips until she finds that exact spot where my tongue, flattened and extended down towards my chin, rubs her clit just right... she pauses and shudders there, and I hear her faint 'oh fuck...' as she once more starts moving, now in tiny, controlled circles. My arms come up the backs of her thighs to support her, helping her to keep that exact position as she pleasures herself with glorious abandon, throwing her head back and moaning deeply.

While I love eating pussy, I've never had a woman use me quite like that before. The thought makes me dizzy with desire, and the haziness is further enhanced by my limited breath. I take quick, erratic inhales whenever Sandra bucks or pauses momentarily, and try swallowing, though it's hard with the awkward angle my neck is tilted at.

Fleetingly I think, so this is what it feels like to get your face fucked; to struggle to breathe and to slobber all over yourself, not caring about a damn thing other than giving pleasure... Fuck, I get it now. Then all thought is gone when I hear Sandra's breathless plea: "Please... fuck me with your tongue. I want to feel your tongue inside of me."

Peeking up into her stormy blue eyes I stick my tongue out, and watch her lower herself onto it, taking it right into her sweet, tight hole, not stopping until her swollen lips press juicily against mine. My fingers tighten at her ass as I tongue-fuck her cunt, delving as deep as I can before retreating to lick just inside the spasming opening, then shaking my head hard from side to side, rubbing her clit purposefully with my nose. I can barely hear a thing over the wild beating of my own heart with her thighs pressing over my ears, but every few seconds a low, guttural moan or a high-pitched whine penetrate through, and I shudder with echoed pleasure.

My whole face is smeared with her sweet secretions. Her thick woman's scent is everywhere. Her movements become jerkier, less controlled, and then both her hands come to grab at the back of my head and she shifts back to rubbing her clit over my flat tongue once more, looking straight down into my eyes as she strains to reach her climax.

She hangs right there on the edge for a few precious moments, her clit throbbing, pulsating against my sensitive tongue... until finally she topples over, one hand shooting out to keep from falling as she shudders and heaves. She bucks against my face several times, until finally, when the last of her after-shakes subside, she collapses back onto her haunches, tearing her too-sensitive clit away from my mouth. She leans her head on her outstretched arms, too spent to do anything but breathe, huffing and puffing over my head.

Despite my own acute need - and the growing discomfort in my neck and shoulders - I don't move. For one, I need a moment to digest what had just happened, probably as much as she does. I had just submitted to her. Let her top me. Let her use me like I was her freakin' fucktoy. And I absolutely loved every second of it.

But the other reason I am reluctant to move is simpler: my face is now cradled in between two hot, soft, sweaty breasts... hard to complain, even when my balls feel they're about to explode. I bring my hands up to her sides to fill them with those gorgeous globes, and slowly rub my cheeks in the deep, lush valley between them - getting some of her cream off my morning-whiskered cheeks in the process.

I feel her breathless laughter bubbling inside before she leans back and it spills over me like sweet champagne: "Shall I fetch you a towel?"

Smiling up at her I shake my head resolutely. "Absolutely not, baby. I love each and every drop of your cum." To give further credence to my words I lick slowly between her breasts, lapping up the juice from her skin before taking one reddish-pink nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue all around it, before letting it pop out only to do the same with its twin.

Sandra moans. "Please, Dan..."

I chuckle, though having come down from the crazy high I was on a moment ago with Sandra riding my face, I am only too aware of the throbbing ache in my dick, still trapped inside my boxers, leaking profusely. "I thought I just did?"

She colors a bright pink, and I take pity on her. I tap her upper thighs and she takes the hint, moving back to stand on the floor, which brings her pussy to eye level once more. I am almost tempted to start all over again, but if nothing else, the painful stiffness in my neck reminds me I should probably move. Her hand floats before my face and I look up, see her smirk as she offers her help. I grab her forearm, and her fingers close securely around my wrist. Her grin widens, and she leans back and tugs me up, hard enough to make me bump into her, my swollen dick pressing into her soft belly through wet, stretched cotton.

She looks down, rubs herself slowly, maddeningly, against me, then leans back to meet my eyes, her smirk even wider.

"Anything I can help you with here, baby?"

I feel a growl rising from somewhere deep in my chest, and I reach around her to fill my palms with her fleshy ass cheeks, pressing her hard against me, spreading her nakedness obscenely from behind. I can feel her moist heat just millimeters from my fingertips, and my palms twitch, my nails pressing into her delicate skin.

"I need to be inside of you. Now."

Nodding, she pushes back from me. I drop my hands as, still holding my eyes, she starts walking backwards, slowly, her full breasts and hips swaying temptingly from side to side. Vixen. When I move to follow she reaches out to take my hand, winks, and then turns to lead us both into her bedroom.

She doesn't stop, but continues to climb up onto the bed, then flops over to her back, throws her arms above her head and spreads her legs wide. She lies there open, waiting, welcoming. The longing on her face takes my breath away.

"I'm all yours, Dan."

It's almost enough to tip me over the edge. Inhaling, I close my eyes briefly, reaching for that elusive thread of control... Fisting my hands as I grab onto it I exhale, and then consciously relax my muscles. Yes. I open my eyes to catch a glimpse of insecurity crossing her lovely face. Better hurry up there, officer. I watch her in unabashed adoration even before I expose the full extent of it by dropping my boxers, and am rewarded with a dazzling smile. God, she's gorgeous when she's horny.

I crawl up right between her open thighs, not stopping until my body covers hers completely, my hands finding hers, lacing our fingers together above her head, my weight on my forearms, my dick's length pressing along her slit. Restraint tremors in my muscles that long to spring into action. Instead, I hold myself there, soaking up her warmth, her vulnerability, her need.

Her eyes are wide open, letting me see every emotion behind them, holding nothing back. Her heartbeat flutters at the base of her throat. Her earlier sass and playfulness are gone, discarded like pretty, sparkly masks after a ball, revealing naked human beauty underneath.

"I love you, babygirl."

She melts. Her lips open and her knees spread wider, and I sink my cock into her, engulfing myself in her wet heat. I stay there, feeling her inner walls tighten exquisitely around me, fighting the all-consuming need to thrust by grinding slowly against her, while my lips and tongue mesh with hers for a wild, deep, demanding kiss. Sandra reciprocates with equal urgency, until finally we break for a much-needed breath, panting hard. Her eyes catch and hold mine.

"I love you, too."

Her words send little firecrackers sizzling down my spine. Unable to resist any longer I start moving deep inside her, wanting to savor every sensation but unable to hold back my overwhelming need anymore. I bottom out with every stroke, and she arches up under me, moaning and then calling out in sweet agony whenever the swollen head of my dick bumps against her cervix. Her reaction fuels my own excitement and I fuck her harder, rejoicing in the way her fingers tighten between mine, her short nails biting into the back of my hand with each hard thrust - God, so deep... Fuck...!

A sudden thought strikes me and I freeze, though the effort to do so leaves me visibly shaking.

"Sandra, baby, Is it... "

"Safe?" she asks breathlessly, and tries to smile, but her face is tight with her own need. "Yes. It is. Absolutely. Don't stop, please!"

"Thank God," I reply, surge deep into her once more, shuddering as her walls tighten and squeeze around me, then pull back only to thrust deeply again. And again. And again.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she agrees enthusiastically, and I laugh out loud; and then all rational thought melts as I lose myself in her.

*

*

*

Tuesday at Dr. Pappas, I wait impatiently for my appointment to start. With every day that passes I am more certain of what I want. I want Sandra, and I want our baby; I want us to be a family.

We haven't talked more about the decision looming on the horizon; not yet. We spent the rest of the weekend in bed, firmly focused on the present and keeping any thoughts of the future resolutely out of our minds. Then Monday came with a vengeance, Sandra's hectic work and school schedule making it even easier to avoid. Unspoken between us was the understanding that I needed to talk with Dr. Pappas and gain his perspective before we face the topic again.

I am anxious. Shit, I'm downright scared. What if he says I can't do it? What if he says it's too big of a risk for me to become a father right now? Fuck, what if it's too big of a risk for me NOT to? If Sandra had an abortion, given my reaction to the idea... what if she did and I snapped again?!

Feeling my throat constrict, hearing the rush of blood in my ears, I lean low over my knees, cup my hands over my mouth and nose, and focus solely on exhaling, making sure to empty my lungs all the way before drawing in my next shaky breath.

"Dan, you okay?"

Fuck. My head shoots up to meet the good doctor's narrowed light-blue eyes, scrutinizing me over the rim of his small oval glasses. I was so deep inside my head I hadn't noticed the previous patient leaving the room, nor Dr. Pappas' soft-spoken invite to 'come in, please'.

I realize I am panting, still bent over in my seat, although my eyes are locked with the shrink's.

"Anxiety?" he asks matter-of-factly, and I curse under my breath before pushing up to stand before him.

"Yeah. Big time." I admit. Thankfully my heart rate had already slowed enough to stop the shaking, and my voice comes out almost normal.

He smiles, unfazed. "Well, you've come to the right place then, Dan. Step into my office please."

*

We sit down in our respective chairs, and Dr. Pappas walks over to fill a paper cup with water, then places it in front of me on the small coffee table. I reach for it and take a deep gulp, grimly satisfied with the steadiness of my hand as I do.

Dr. Pappas takes his seat and waits another moment, possibly to see if I'd start talking on my own, but when I don't he clears his throat and takes the lead, as he usually does in our conversations.

"Want to tell me what just happened?"

I press my lips in annoyance, but nod. "You saw what happened. I panicked. Again."

"Hmm. Yes, well, I thought you actually did very well out there."

"I - what?"

"I saw you. Clearly you were agitated, but by no means out of control. You seemed to be doing one of those breathing techniques, right?"

"I - yeah, I guess I was. But it wasn't a conscious decision... it just felt right to do it."

"That's great; we want it to become a second nature to you. And I'm glad to see it worked."

"I was so out of it I didn't hear you come out."

"True. For a very short spell. But you responded coherently when I spoke to you. You're sitting here having a calm and clear conversation with me not two minutes after the fact - whereas a few weeks ago you'd be bent over the toilet, trying to puke the anxiety out of your belly. I'd say you're doing remarkably well, Dan."

I swallow hard. "I - thanks. It didn't feel so good while I was at it, though."

Dr. Pappas chuckles. "I'm sure it didn't. But it wasn't half as bad as it was before, right?"

I guess. "Right."

"Good; remember that. It's important that you recognize your own embetterment. Now, how about you tell me what brought this little episode about?"

Studying my hands, I find myself mortified with embarrassment. I feel like a sixteen-year-old boy, about to tell his dad he'd just knocked up his girlfriend. I peek up and see him leaning back in his chair, his chin resting on his fingers. Ah yes. The silence-until-they-talk trick. How can it work every damned time for him?! With an annoyed grunt - aimed at both of us, really - I look straight in his eyes and blurt it out:

"Sandra's pregnant."

That gives him pause, I notice with a twisted little pang of victory. It takes my news a moment to sink in before he tilts his head lightly to the side and responds.

"Hmm. I see. Sandra's pregnant, and you're freaking out." He raises his eyebrows in question, though his voice states it as a fact. I nod. "Well," he continues conversationally, "I'd say that's a completely normal reaction."

I bark my surprised laugh. "Seriously? That's your professional view?"

An answering smile tugs at his mouth. "In fact, yes. It is." But then his look turns serious, his eyes intently focused on mine. "You see, Dan, I would be very concerned if you were dancing with pure joy in my waiting room. Or if I found you in a state of blind rage. Or denial. Or indifference. But none of the above happened. You being scared, anxious - that means you grasp the magnitude of this reality, and that you recognize it's going to impact you, too, not just Sandra. So yeah, that's well within the range of normal reactions to this kind of news. In fact -"

He stops, and to my astonishment I see a faint blush rise on the apples of his cheeks, peeking above his short-cropped grey beard. I just gape at him.

Shaking his head, clearly annoyed with himself, Dr. Pappas mumbles something incoherent before coming to some kind of resolution and meeting my eyes.

"I was going to say - in fact, that's just how I felt when my own wife got pregnant, some 40 years ago."

I am stumped. Why would he tell me that? But then, I'm also curious. "40 years ago? What were you, like, 20?"

"Nineteen, yes. And she wasn't quite eighteen. It was a month after her graduation. We were going steady but not even thinking about marriage. It was... quite a shock. For both of us." His faraway look clears when he looks back at me. "I'm sure you can relate to that feeling."

I grin. "Breaking the rules here with me, aren't you, doctor?"

He shrugs, his cheeks still warm, but holds my eyes. "Not quite breaking them, but maybe... pushing the limits a bit?" His eyes twinkle at his own obvious choice of words, his face more open than I'd ever seen it, the invisible veil of professional detachment momentarily lifted. "I really like you, Dan. And I'm rooting for you. Now don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with my life story; but I did feel like you could use that little piece of history as a... reminder, if you will."

"I - I'm not sure I follow, doc. A reminder of what?"

He smiles. "Of life being what happens while you're busy making other plans" he quips Lennon's famous line. "And for it being messy and scary most of the time, for most people. All I'm saying is, it's okay to freak out." he pauses, then prods further. "How's Sandra feeling about this? Have you two decided what you're going to do yet?"

...and just like that, the shrink is back. Reluctantly I sit up straighter, allowing us both to slip back to our designated roles. It's probably for the best.

"No, nothing's decided. We're both quite... overwhelmed by it. We agreed to take a week to think before making any decisions. And I wanted to talk to you - Sandra agreed that was a good idea."

He smiles. "I concur." and then his gaze sharpens once more. "So, you freaking out - want to tell me what you're afraid of, exactly?"

"I'm afraid I'd hurt them, one way or another."

"Them?"

I nod, swallowing hard. "Sandra and - and the baby."

"How do you see yourself hurting them? What do you imagine could happen?" he asks, and the soft-spoken words feel like a punch in my stomach. I gasp.

"I don't. I can't imagine hurting them. Not for a second. Never."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Then, what are you afraid of?"

I drag in a shuddering breath. "I'd never hurt them intentionally. But then -" I shrug helplessly. "I feel like I'd be damned if I did and damned if I didn't."

"Hmm. Explain that to me."

"Well if Sandra did decide to have the baby, I'm afraid I won't be able to be a father for him. That I'd somehow screw that up completely. And if she decided not to have it... it's just... devastating to think about it."

"Devastating is a strong word." he points out.

"I know."

"Hmm." he nods, considering me, then asks - "is that how you felt when Naomi moved on? Devastated?"

His blunt question strikes right at the core of my anxiety, stirring it up. I focus on puffing my exhales through pursed lips, and force myself to face my demons, right there in the cozy, tranquil room.

Is that how I felt about Naomi moving on? Thinking back, I remember a numbing, all-consuming fear and an unwavering certainty that I had to change her decision; that if I didn't, everything would be over. I would be over. And I remember my rage, roaring inside my head at the incredibly cruel injustice of her slipping away from me just when I thought I got one final chance. I was furious.