My Fertile Secret Ch. 03

Having thought that, I think he might be right, because in addition to the internal rumblings of contraction after contraction, I can also feel an intense burning between my thighs. So focused was I on the act of pushing in sync with my contractions that I hadn't even noticed the pain of my pussy lips stretching to accommodate the baby's head.

They call it the ring of fire, and having done this twice before, that term is no joke.

The pain is like a constant din playing in my head, roiling in my gut, burning in my crotch. I reach down tentatively and I almost sob as my fingers touch the top of my baby boy's head. I can feel the strands of hair on his head, and just feeling the tangible evidence of the new life about to emerge from my body gives me a newfound surge of strength.

The ring of fire is still very much there, and I can scarcely bear to push anymore and add to the stinging pain of forcing my labia to stretch even wider. My rapist is responsible for the pain I'm in, but I'm responsible for pushing through it. I know I can do this. I've done this twice before. I can do this again. All it will take is one last push.

I feel the next contraction beginning to brew, and I prepare myself for the impending climax. This is my moment. As the muscles in my uterus and vagina brace and the wave of pain builds in my belly, I take as deep a breath as I've ever taken...and PUSH.

A cry of agony and power so loud it fills the house escapes my open mouth as I push with all my womanly might. The searing pain of my rapist's baby stretching me so wide it feels like a literal ring of fire around my cunt resists and then yields to the force of my pushing.

And then I feel it. The baby's head slips through between my straining lower lips, its neck still lodged between them. There's a tiny amount of relief as the baby's body stretches my feminine gates a little less than the head did, but the ring of fire hasn't quite been extinguished.

I can vaguely hear my husband's excited voice telling me he can see the baby's head and that it's nearly over, but I'm so focused on the final stretch that his words don't register in my mind. He's absolutely thrilled to watch his wife finally give birth to a child he thinks is his, and I grimace with determined satisfaction as another contraction arrives and I give one last push.

The moment my son slides out of my vagina and into the world is indescribable. The exquisite physical relief of the eight-pound living mass lodged in my birth canal suddenly slipping out between my sore pussy lips combined with the overwhelming wave of hormones and emotional catharsis forms that legendary 'birthing high', a feeling so intense and climactic I wish every woman on planet Earth would experience it at least once in her life.

It's left to my husband to scoop 'our' son out of the water, his skin a pale-grey color while his umbilical cord still gives him the oxygen he needs and place him in my outstretched arms. I give his back a few gentle taps and he spits out a globule of mucus, clearing his airway.

Then he cries, and so do I.

I'm still overwhelmed by the quasi-orgasmic birthing high and the raw joy of bringing a new life into the world, and all I want to do is cradle my newborn son in my arms. I'm too wiped out to rock him, so I whisper how much I love him over and over again, completely forgetting how he was conceived while my husband wraps his arms around me.

I turn my head and we share a long and passionate kiss, tongue and all, his hands holding my cheeks as I cradle another man's child in my arms. When he breaks off the kiss, he stands up to retrieve the video camera from its tripod, and I totally forget my early morning misgivings about being filmed. This is definitely something that should be captured for posterity.

As my husband walks over with the camera, he squats down and makes sure to get a good view of the baby next to my breast. He leans in close to me so that his head is almost on my shoulder, and we share another kiss in front of the camera before I return my attention to my baby.

He's already worn himself out from the ordeal and he'll soon be fast asleep. I don't blame him and having woken up at 4am to bring him into the world at nearly midday, I want to spend the rest of the day sleeping, too.

My birthing high is steadily subsiding, and my tears of happiness are no longer streaming down my cheeks, but I'm just so happy that my son is safe and out. I'm happy to just gaze at him as he dozes off in my arms. I'm even happier to see the ruddy pink hue of his skin, not quite as pale as my skin, but healthy and light enough to set my heart at ease.

My baby is White. Undeniably White. My secret is safe for now.

To be continued...