More Than 50 Ways ...

A great big thank you to Nora Fares and Bebop 3 for inviting me to write in their event. I hope I haven't disappointed them.

This story was inspired by Michael Fitzgerald's story, "Last Man" and George Anderson's continuation piece, "Last Man: Brian's Tale." But I haven't given you links to those stories because this is not a continuation or companion piece. I used the set-up and then went in my own direction with my own characters.

A second thank you to Nora Fares for her proofreading skills.

*

The classroom had a few less students in it than usual as it was Friday morning, and I'm sure more than a few of them started their weekend last night at the local bars.

I'd always wondered about the intelligence of the schedule-makers to set an upper level economics course for 8 a.m., particularly if the class met Fridays. Why not set a freshman level econ course for 8 a.m., since those students were under 21, and unless they had a fake ID, they weren't going to be drinking Thursday night. Absenteeism would have been much less for the frosh level class.

But that makes too much sense. In the real world, where I lived, the powers that be apparently prided themselves on not making too much sense. I don't care if it's politics, big business, or a big Midwestern university, once someone becomes a "power that be," he or she must have to check their common sense at the door.

Like a lot of people, I had been one of those kids who used to start my weekends on Thursday nights. I was a party guy supreme. I got OK grades, but never really put any effort into the academics. I learned what I needed to learn, but didn't feel that I needed to impress anybody with my grades. Yeah, I later learned that some recruiters were hooked on that, but, oh well, I'd always proven to my bosses that I was more than qualified by my actual performance on the job.

And then I got into teaching, got my master's and Ph.D. in economics, and wound up teaching our brightest young minds. I had been an associate professor for the past two years, made decent money, had great hours, and life was good. My wife was a mid-level bank executive, having taken off several years while our kids were toddlers, and she went back to work after they were both in school.

My son, Jeremy, is 9, and my daughter, Sandy, is 7.

My 10:00 class was the frosh class, and it was well-attended. It was my favorite class to teach because, at 18, most of those kids were like sponges waiting to absorb knowledge. Also, there were several kids in the class that were not econ majors as most majors required econ as a required frosh class. I really enjoyed getting the basic concepts into journalism majors and history majors, who I'd heard bitch about having to take econ at all.

"All I need to know is how to write, not how to figure out how to spend money," I'd heard more than one journalism major say at the beginning of the semester. Hell, you can't be any kind of a journalist today if you don't understand the basics of economics.

My one afternoon class was also upper level, but since it was at 1, the juniors and seniors actually showed up, although most were hungover. But for this class, these were the best of the best in intelligence, so even hungover, most were probably functioning better in the brain department than most of the regular population. It was a great challenge to teach these kids, especially since I was one of those journalism kids when I started out about a hundred years ago.

There are never any students that come by the office for help on Friday afternoons, so as usual, I left for home at about 3. The kids showed up at about 3:30, and after a few minutes of laughter and screwing around, we started getting Friday night dinner ready. That was our routine, and we enjoyed each other's company as we prepped for my wife's arrival at about 5:30. We usually made a pretty big dinner, and the four of us would celebrate the week that was as a family before the craziness of the weekend started.

Traci walked in just about her usual time. The kids both screeched and ran over to hug her. I hung back, watching and smiling, waiting for my turn. She was wearing a dark blue business suit, nothing special really, but I stopped breathing for just a quick second upon first laying eyes on her. It didn't make a difference what she was wearing, she always got that reaction out of me when I first saw her after a separation. She was just that stunningly beautiful, at least to me. After she kissed and hugged the munchkins, she came to me, and we kissed passionately, as we always did after any kind of time apart.

"Please, you two, get a room," said my son, who always looked clearly uncomfortable when Traci and I showed any kind of physical closeness. Ah, for the innocence of being a 9-year-old.

The same age as me at 35, Traci was a 5-foot-5 bundle of beauty and intelligence. She had long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and despite having birthed two children, was probably still 36-24-36. She was a regular at our gym and rode her bicycle 20 to 30 miles per week. I was one incredibly lucky man.

And then the world fell in on me.

Since it was the weekend, the kids got to stay up until 10. After they went to bed, Traci and I did some snuggling on the sofa. Within minutes we were both naked, and she was doing the lollipop thing on my dick. I maneuvered us into a 69 and started to return the favor on her delectable pussy. Within minutes she was screaming unintelligibly, trying to muffle her yelling with a pillow from the sofa. Three orgasms in, we had to stop and adjourn to the bedroom so we could at least shut the door.

An hour later we were cuddling together, breathing heavily, both sweating. God how I loved this woman, and how I loved loving her.

"Roger, are you still awake? Roger?"

I was spooned behind Traci, and she could feel my regular breathing, indicating I was either asleep or not far off. I perked up a bit when she spoke.

"I'm awake, Babe. What do you need?"

"Just about the biggest show of love you could ever give me," she answered softly.

Now I was intrigued, and wide awake.

"You know how depressed Karen's been over not being able to have kids with Dave, especially since he's the last male of his bloodline, right," she started.

"You want to talk about this now?" I asked. I was more than a little puzzled.

Karen is Traci's younger sister, three years younger, to be exact. She has been told that unless it's a miracle, she's not having children. Her husband, Dave, a guy I don't like much, has some royal Hungarian blood and thinks he should have some male progeny to continue on his royal self.

"She just goes to work, comes home, and mopes around the house. I've suggested counseling, but she won't do it. It's starting to get really bad.

"Well, I think we've come up with the answer to her depression and Dave's bloodline ending. I'll carry a baby for them!"

I sat up at that point. I'm pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. I guess we were talking about this.

"Wait ... what?"

"You know she can't produce hardly any viable eggs, and she probably can't carry to term if she could produce eggs. But I can produce eggs, and I've got two kids to prove I can carry to full term. I love my sister dearly, Roger, and for her, I could carry another baby. It would be her baby, hers, and Dave's, but I would carry it for her.

"Now that would mean no sex ... at least no vaginal sex until I was confirmed pregnant. I'd have to go off birth control until then and we couldn't take the chance that you'd get me pregnant before Dave.

"It might take several weeks, maybe several months ..."

"Whoa! Slow the fuck down!" I interrupted. "In vitro is immediate. What the hell ..."

The answer hit me like a brick to the head, and as awareness came to me, Traci put her eyes down.

"You mean to have sex with Dave? What the fuck are you talking about!"

"It's a way for us all to bond," Traci explained. "Karen and I don't want the clinical method. We want this to be about love. Karen will be in the room with us."

"And I'm sure Dave had nothing to do with this decision at all!" I yelled.

"Well, he agreed with us, but it was a decision we all made," Traci responded.

"It was a decision you all made. Nobody asked my fucking opinion," I spat. "How is this about love for me?"

I was standing next to the bed by this point, pacing actually.

"I might have been on board with you carrying a child for them, but I'm not on board with you fucking Dave, even with Karen in the room! This is not happening! I don't give a shit if it makes Karen happy, or if Dave's bloodline carries on. This will not happen!"

Traci looked at me like I was a petulant child, slowly shaking her head from side to side.

"This is not something that can't be overcome by love, Dear. Once you get over your initial jealousy, we can get back to being us again. Nothing has to change. It will just be sex. And I know that you love Karen and Dave, and they will be eternally happy and grateful.

"My mom and dad are so excited they can barely contain themselves ..."

"You've already talked this over with your folks? Sounds like everyone's onboard except for the poor soon-to-be-cuckolded husband. Is that what I'm hearing?"

"It's not going to be like that, Roger. Once I'm pregnant it's back to just you and me. You're the only one I love. Don't make this into something bigger than that.

"You always trust me when we disagree on big things. You always let me make the final call, and haven't things turned out good for us?"

"This is much bigger than me letting you get a brown sofa for the living room, or taking your choice to go to Hawaii for vacation instead of Brazil," I said. "For some reason, you seem to think that my input was not necessary, but this is not going to happen if you expect to stay married."

"You think about it some more, and I'm sure you'll come around to my way of thinking. But don't take too long. I stopped taking my birth control pills a week ago, and starting next weekend I hit my most fertile week."

I was flabbergasted, to say the least. I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep, so I turned the lights on, got dressed, and left the house, all without saying another word.

My favorite watering hole stayed open until 2, and instead of pulling up a spot at the bar as I normally would have, I ordered a double shot of Jameson's and took it back to a table toward the back of the bar. I downed the first glass in about 10 minutes, and made eye contact with Carol, the bartender, and held up my shot glass for another round. Instead of having the waitress bring the drink over to me, Carol served me herself, asking me if I was OK.

Carol and Archie Mygrant have owned the Cluster Cluck Bar & Grill for about 20 years, and with all that experience Carol could probably be listed as a certified psychologist. She has known me for about 12 years, and all she had to do was look at my face to know something was way wrong. Her question wasn't really a question, it was more a statement of fact, and she expected to get a straight answer from me. I couldn't lie to Carol, and gave it up over the next few minutes.

She looked at me hard and gave me a weary smile. She looked over at Archie, who had replaced her behind the bar, and held up one finger. Archie came over with a cup of coffee for Carol, nodded at me, and quietly walked back to the bar.

"You do realize you're in a big mess here, Roger," she said. "For as long as I've known you two, you've always given Traci her way. She sees it as her right to make the final decision. If you don't put your foot down hard, she's going to assume she can do what she wants, and you'll give her tacit approval -- as usual. She'll fuck this guy until she gets pregnant, then you'll have to put up with the baby for the next nine months, then she might just repeat the process in the future since you've already acquiesced once. And maybe down the line ..."

"Ah, shit," I whispered.

"Yeah, you're going to have to make some tough choices in the very near future, so you need to think this through really well."

I had another double right before last call, then drove myself home. I probably could have drunk half the bottle and still have been sober for the bad mood I was in. The house was dark when I got home. I didn't bother to go upstairs to our bedroom. I got a blanket out of a closet and crashed in my La-Z-Boy.

I heard Traci and the kids laughing in the kitchen sometime the next morning. I staggered into the room, still wearing my clothes from last night, and headed for the coffee pot.

"Morning, Sleepyhead," Traci cooed to me as I walked by. "Did Mr. Jameson make things better last night? Ready to take on the day and become everyone's hero?"

She knew me so well she even knew what I would drink when I had to work out a problem. No wonder she figured this was probably a done deal.

We didn't talk about Traci's proposal at all on Saturday, but there was a definite tension in the air. While we were eating Saturday night, Traci off-handedly "reminded" me that tomorrow we were invited out to her parents for Sunday dinner. Huh, I didn't remember her telling me that earlier.

We took off for her parents' place a little after 3 in the afternoon, pulling up at about 4. As we pulled up in front of Traci's parents' house, I spotted the cars belonging to Dave and Karen and two of Traci's aunts and uncles. I shot Traci a sideways look, and she grinned back at me like someone who already had the answers to a test she was about to take.

The kids ran off to play in the backyard while we adults congregated in the family room. Karen walked over to me slowly, touched my shoulder, and looked deep into my eyes. I shook my head slowly, then put my eyes down. She looked like she was ready to cry until she looked at Traci, who was nodding and smiling. I was starting to feel uncomfortable. There was a cooler of beer in the kitchen, with a couple of bottles of booze on the counter. I grabbed the bottle of Ciroc vodka, threw some ice in a glass, and poured myself the equivalent of two shots. I had a feeling my life as I knew it was about to get really interesting.

I shouldn't have been surprised that my mother-in-law started things off. Been married to her daughter for 13 years, and the woman still hated me. I wasn't who my in-laws had wanted Traci to marry, and they made it quite clear on numerous occasions.

"I can't believe you are so selfish that you would deny Karen and Dave a chance at having their own baby. What kind of dick are you?" Lorraine Tortello practically yelled at me.

So they were going to try to soft-soap me. I didn't see that coming.

"I'm hardly the selfish one here, Mom. I've agreed that Karen and Dave can borrow Traci's uterus, but there's no reason to borrow her p ... vagina, too. In vitro is a perfectly healthy way to get this done. I see no reason to do anything else."

"But that's so clinical, and hardly the loving way our children were conceived. We want Karen and Dave's child to be conceived in love," Traci answered. "We want it to be a loving experience."

"We? Who's this we?" I questioned. "I was never consulted on this. I was told this, but I'm not agreeing to this. I will never agree to this.

"He doesn't need to make love to you for you to have their child ..."

"It's about conceiving the child in love, not about Dave and I having any love for each other like that," Traci interjected. "Karen will be in the room with us, Honey ..."

"He's packing, isn't he?" I asked as the light bulb went off in my head.

Dave smirked at me. Everyone else was looking at him.

"If she's going to carry our baby, shouldn't she at least get a little enjoyment out of this, too?" Karen cried.

"Way wrong answer, Karen!" I yelled.

"So what is it, Traci, is he packing nine inches?"

Dave smirked at me again, nodding his head.

"Just about on the money, old boy," he sneered.

"So you get a nine-inch pipe to enjoy for a while, he gets to have sex with my beautiful wife, Karen gets her baby, and I get ... to be a fucking cuckold. You can't be serious -- none of you."

"It's not like that. I love you, Roger, and only you," Traci insisted. "After I get pregnant, it will be just you and me again ... forever."

I slugged down the remaining vodka in my glass and stood up.

"Have Mr. Big Dick and Karen drive you home. I'm suddenly not hungry," I said as I headed for the door.

Things were more than frosty at home for the first few days of the week. We both talked to the children, but neither of us spoke more than a few sentences to the other. Finally, on Wednesday, after we ate, cleared the dishes and the kids went off to their rooms to do whatever it is kids do, Traci spoke up.

"Roger, you know I would never do anything to hurt us, our family. I know in my heart this is the right thing to do, and I know that once you get past your jealousy and fear, you'll see that, too. And if we don't do this now, in a few years you're going to come to me with big regrets that you screwed it up for Karen and Dave.

"I'm 35, there's only a small window left for me to carry a child safely and maybe get my body back after. I love my sister and brother-in-law, but I'm not going to be carrying a child for them in my 40s."

"Then do this in-vitro like everybody else, Traci. Love is much more than you and Karen and Dave doing some sort of threesome," I responded.

"It won't be anything like that," Traci said. "Roger, we've been married 13 years. You have to trust me on this. Please."

"I can't do this, Traci. I won't share you with anyone, even family. If you insist on going through with this, there won't be an us anymore. I won't be part of this."

Thursday night after supper the four of us were in our assigned places in the family room watching TV. My assigned place was my La-Z-Boy. The kids and Traci were on the sofa. Traci got up and came over to me, and very gently climbed into the La-Z-Boy with me, actually laying down half on top of me as I was reclining. I scooted over a bit to give her room. Five minutes later, she was blowing gently in my ear, and the hand rubbing my leg was getting a bit adventurous. She planted her lips on mine and then tried to suck my tonsils out.

"God, would you two get a room," Jeremy said with a real look of disgust on his face.

Traci and I looked at each other, then got up and made our way up the stairs to our room. It was not uncommon for us to do this.

We were both sure that Jeremy knew what was going on; not sure what Sandy knew and understood. Still, we tried to keep things quiet. Five minutes in, Traci had my hard dick in her mouth, also not an uncommon occurrence, but then she went the extra little bit to get that last inch into her throat -- something she'd never done before. It was an incredible feeling until the thought hit me: was she practicing on my six inches to be able to get Dave's 9-incher in her throat, or had she already practiced with Dave's nine inches and was now able to get my six inches into her throat. I softened immediately. Neither one of us said a word as we got dressed and headed back downstairs to continue watching TV. Jeremy gave us a surprised look when we descended.

The game plan for the next week, according to Traci, was for her to go to Dave and Karen's right from her work Friday night, and she would stay there until the next Sunday afternoon. We would reconnect as a family Sunday night. While I was guardedly hopeful that she would call this off, I made plans with the kids for both weekends. I wanted to spend as much "happy time" with the kids as I could before I changed their lives forever.

We did the Cincinnati Zoo among our first big weekend. All the kids knew about Traci not being with us is that she was helping Aunt Karen and Uncle Dave with a big home project. We did the Cleveland Zoo and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, among other activities, on the second weekend. I used the same excuse for Traci not being with us.