My Father's Woman Ch. 06

She reached over and picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, and swished it around in her mouth, before swallowing and laughing again. "Have I told you lately how much fun you are to play with?"

"Yeah, in fact, you have," I said, with gratitude in my voice. I reached for my own cup of coffee. It was still more than luke-warm. I hadn't even lasted long enough for the coffee too cool off.

"So," she continued, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "You awake now?"

"Uh huh."

"Thinking with your big head instead of your little one?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good. Because I've been thinking... and I'm serious about this now..."

I sat up straighter, and felt my pulse quicken.

"So, I'm going to be 36 next year. And we've talked about it before, but not lately. But...

"I think it's time to start a family."

The mix of emotions I felt at that moment was disorienting and overwhelming. Lots of guys, I'm sure, hear that statement from their wives and react with a combination of excitement and devotion, but also fear and reservation. And that's without being immersed in the kind of kinky cuckold fantasy world that I had been wallowing in in recent months.

But I could tell from her face, that what my face was telling her, was that the enthusiasm and love was triumphing over the uncertainty.

"Yeah?" she said, in response to my unspoken reaction.

I just nodded. Oh my God, of course. She was my wife, the love of my life. We were made for each other, and not just because our kinks aligned. She fulfilled every one of my desires; of course I wanted to give her every one of hers.

She threw her arms around me, in an embrace that was all affirmation and confirmation. I held her and we rocked from side to side. "Let's have a baby," I whispered. Even as I was aware that the disturbing and disturbed dark thoughts were still swirling in my mind as well.

But perhaps they were swirling down the drain. Her "I want to get serious" line hadn't been preparation for telling me that she was leaving me for my father, or for any other man who didn't have such a pathetic cuckold streak. She hadn't been quiet last night because she was giving me a mercy fuck for old time's sake.

Of course, I was paying enough attention to have noted that she hadn't specifically said she wanted to have my baby. But there was no way in hell I was going to spoil this moment by mentioning that.

"You're going to be a great dad," she told me.

Yeah, I planned to. "Regardless of who the biological father is," said the niggling voice in my head that I quietly tamped down. I was more swept up in the sensation that everything was okay, better than okay. My nagging concerns that we had been playing with fire and risking our marriage, our lives together, our home, our reputations... were replaced by this confirmation of commitment. She wanted to have a family with me.

Michelle broke off our hug and took another sip of coffee. Then she reached into her nightstand and pulled out a wall calendar that she had already been marking up. She scooted up with her back against the headboard and turned it so I could see it. There was a red X on next weekend, September 20. "That's when I'm due to start my next period," she informed me. "That's the best time for me to stop taking the pill, if I want to stay regular. Of course, there are no guarantees, but..."

Then she turned the page. There were blue circles on the first weekend of October, and at Halloween. "So, if I stay on schedule... and my body's always been pretty good about that... this is when I'll be ovulating."

I looked into her eyes. They were bright with excitement and earnestness. Not a hint of her usual devilish teasing.

I nodded and flipped the next pages myself. The next blue circles were right at Thanksgiving, and Christmas. "Sounds like we have plans for the holidays this year," I joked.

She gave me a shoulder nudge, still beaming. "So," she said, "Make your wife an omelette?"

"Sure," I replied with a grin. I kissed her, and then jumped up to go make breakfast.

I spent the day in a pleasant daze. It felt like one of those milestone events, like a honeymoon or the day we got engaged or the morning after we "became a couple," so to speak, just reveling in each other's company. It's not like we spent the whole day talking about baby names and decorating a nursery, although little thoughts along those lines kept popping up. We went out to pick up mums for the patio and the front stoop; Michelle started noticing picket fencing and wondering about the relative merits of that versus chain link for enclosing the back yard. I stopped at an office supply store to get printer ink; she mentioned that we might only need one printer if we consolidated home offices to free up a room for the baby.

Of course, it wasn't as if the magic and sweetness had wiped my mind clear of all my impure fetishes and neuroses. From time to time, I would ponder what this prospective new reality was going to mean for our unorthodox sex lives.

We had made friends "in the lifestyle," online and later at some out-of-town meet-and-greets, and so I knew that many couples played the hotwife game with children at home. I didn't know whether Michelle would want to continue to pursue those kind of assignations once "motherhood" had kicked in. I had thought about it before now, of course. I had long since decided that if Michelle ever tired of this adventure, I would accept her decision and count myself lucky to have gone for the ride while it lasted.

Of course, we weren't just dealing with the fact that my wife was a hotwife, a serial adulteress. We had the additional wildcard that, as recently as five days ago, the DNA that had been bathing her reproductive system, penetrating her cervix and exploring her womb like Vasco de Gama circumnavigating Africa -- had been deposited there by my sixty-year-old father. Did this mean that their recent three-day fuckfest had been a farewell party? Or... not!??!

But I also wasn't going to ruin this enchanted weekend by injecting my peculiar kinks into it. There would be plenty of time in the days to come to get into a serious discussion, or to pick up our teasing role-playing again, or to acknowledge that we were on hiatus, at least. No need to spoil today.

I even avoided bringing up the fact that we were scheduled, two weeks hence, to go visit my dad together, where ostensibly she would be accompanying him as his "date" to another social event with his work friends, while I tagged along as a third wheel.

I didn't bring it up. She did. But not until after dinner, after we had retired to the family room sofa to review our "currently watching" list on Netflix. First, she had to navigate away from the college football games that had been the last thing I was watching.

"So, are you looking forward to the tailgate party in two weeks?" she asked.

I coughed a bit, and turned my head to observe her expression. The devious twinkle was back in her eye, after having taken a single day off.

"Ummm... yeah, are we still on for that?"

"Well, of course," she reasoned. "I mean, we promised. And it sounds like he's really looking forward to it."

I could feel the grin breaking across my face, even as the familiar confusion began to mount in my head again. I was glad to have my saucy temptress back, after a whole day away. But... how did all this fit together? I was flummoxed about what my next move should be.

For the past week, I had been imagining this trip to my dad's house with my usual mix of dread and arousal... not just the charade of watching him squire my wife around in front of his friends as "his woman," but, inevitably, the point in the evening when I ended up on the couch in his one-bedroom apartment with a pillow and a blanket and a steel chastity device locked around my genitals, while listening to the muffled, rhythmic sounds of bedsprings squeaking, a headboard tapping the wall, and naked bodies slapping together.

Maybe now we'll still go see him, but we'll get a motel room?

"So," I ventured. "Are we going to tell him about our... new... plans?"

"Well, I think we have to," she said, smiling, reaching out to twirl a lock of my hair from behind my ear around one delicate finger.

"I mean, you're going to need to ask him for permission, to stop using condoms..."