Oedipus Was Right Ch. 09

Chapter Nine

I woke when she got out of bed, mildly surprised to see it was light outside.

I had to laugh when she said, "fucking baby is pressing my bladder, I forgot about that."

I kissed her as she peed and wiped her when she was done.

"Come on," I said, "I'll make you breakfast and then we'll, as your husband-to-be says, 'get this party started'."

She stood, clearly bigger than last night. I rubbed her belly and said, "you did some pumping last night after I was asleep, didn't you."

She giggled and said, "I want the FULL experience."

The wallet with the drugs I would need as laying on the kitchen table making me wonder just how much stuff she had done while I slept.

"Well, well, well," I said, opening the wallet.

There was a sheet of instructions in it, so I read as the coffee brewed.

The prostaglandin had two doses, one for "long" labor and one for "quick" labor. I filled the plunger of the hypodermic syringe to the "long" level, turned to her, and said, "ass out."

She smiled and there was the high school class president again, as she put her hands on the countertop, leaned over, arched her back, and very prettily stuck her ass out.

I pinched a spot, right where she sits, hard enough to draw a yelp, and then pushed the needle in and drove the plunger home.

She turned to face me with an odd look on her face.

"I'm scared," she said.

That surprised me.

"Why?" I asked, "it's not like this is your first time."

"Actually," she said, holding my eyes with hers, "it is."

I laughed and said, "but you had me."

She wasn't laughing.

"When you were born, honey," she said, "there were problems. I had what's called placental abruption and they damn near buried both of us. You were born through a Caesarian Section. I've never delivered vaginally or been through labor."

I smiled and took her into my arms.

"I've got you, it's okay," I said, rubbing her back gently.

"Well," she said, a crooked half-smile on her face, "we'll see. But at least, feed me."

I chuckled and had her sit.

"Yes," I said, "but first these," and I handed her the rest of the pill cocktail from the wallet.

I put some water in a shallow pan to boil, got out the toaster, rummaged through the refrigerator and found some bacon, poured some orange juice, and set about making poached eggs on toast for breakfast.

I looked over from time to time and she was clearly nervous. It showed up in her body language, in the little movement of her heel that wouldn't stop, in the nervous shaking of her hand.

I went over and kissed her.

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm going to feed you and then bathe you and then make love to you through your contractions and remind you how beautiful you are all along the way."

She smiled up at me.

I had seen the phrase "smiled wanly" written before, but had never seen a smile that was, indeed, "smiling wanly."

So I did just that. I made the poached eggs and toast and bacon and orange juice and put it on the table before her. We ate together, in companionable silence, our eyes meeting once in a while. Her nervousness remained on display.

When we finished I did the dishes while she drank a second cup of coffee.

Dishes done, I walked her into the bathroom and drew a hot bath.

I let her soak while I changed the sheets on the bed and gathered the things I knew, from my experience with Stephanie, that we'd need.

I washed her face, gently but thoroughly, and then shampooed her hair, enjoying her giggles when I used a big glass to pour water over her head to first wet and then rinse her hair. I washed her boobs and belly and legs and feet before doing her back. I had her get up on all fours to do her ass properly. While I had her in that position I couldn't resist tugging on her nipples.

"Gonna milk me when it comes in?" she asked.

"Gonna moo when I do?" I asked.

"mmmMMMOOOO0000oooooo," she said making us both laugh.

I helped her out of the tub, dried her off, looked her up and down, and said, "you know, it's not uncommon to shave a woman for delivery."

Her eyes got big and she looked down.

And then she got the giggles. I could tell the drugs were starting to take hold.

"Please do," she said.

I got a fluffy towel, doubled it, and spread it on the middle of the bed.

Then I had a thought and had her stand in front of the vanity, got the blow dryer, and blew her pubic hair dry, using a brush to fluff as I did. When she was dry I got the electric clipper I used to trim my beard and made a first pass at cutting her pubic hair down. I enjoyed the way the hair I clipped fluttered to the floor.

When I had her trimmed down I walked her into the bedroom and helped her up onto the bed and positioned her so her ass was centered on the towel. I went into the bathroom, ran the water until it was full hot, and then got one of the small hand towels and soaked it, wrung it out, and went back to the bed where I parted her legs and packed the hot towel around he pussy.

She laid back, reclining on two pillows looking utterly relaxed.

And then the first contraction hit her.

Her eyes got big.

Her breath caught.

She did that hiss/whistle Lamaze breathing for a few seconds and then relaxed.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," she said.

One more trip to the bathroom. I changed the blades on my Harry's 5-blade razor and grabbed my Gillette Green (for sensitive skin) shaving gel.

Back in the bedroom I removed the hot towel and laid it on her belly and began working the shaving gel into her pubic hair. She drew a breath as the menthol chilled her but then lifted her knees a bit more and parted her legs completely.

Her mons was easy. I just used my thumb to pull the skin taut and the sharp new blades did their jobs nicely. Lower, though, where her full labia included a sparse coat of hair inside her outer lips, very near that most sensitive pink skin, it became more difficult to hold the skin taut and work the razor around. I decided then and there, as I was being so very careful, that the next time I would wax her.

But I got the job done, even having her pull her knees up until they almost touched her nipples and getting her taint (that little area between pussy and asshole where t'aint ass and t'aint pussy) smooth. When I was done I used the still warm wet towel to clean away the shaving cream residue and then the towel to dry her.

And then I looked and realized just how beautiful a woman's vagina can be. The roundness of her mons surrounded the top of the delicate slit that was the entryway to her vagina, a soft pad of fat forming her clitoral hood. Her outer lips, full and soft made the perfect protective guard to the delicate opening to her sex. The crease of her ass made an arrow, pointing the way. I just stared, captivated.

When a contraction hit and she began the Lamaze breathing there was a sudden swelling and her inner lips, pink and shiny, peeked out.

And I had to have her right then. I went down on her like I have never gone down on a woman before. My tongue had a life of its own, probing, licking, tasting, wanting more. My lips were hungry, kissing and sucking.

And she was as bad. Her hips were bucking like a prom date in the back seat. Her legs were kicking, her heels drumming on the mattress. Her fingers tangled in my hair and she pulled me to her.

When she came I had no hope of keeping up. I swallowed and coughed, my hair and face were soaked. She was crying out, her hips bucking against my mouth, and I yelled when it felt like she was going to pull a handful of hair out.

Her orgasm lasted like nothing I ever imagined a woman could do. And I encouraged her, my mouth sucking, my tongue licking, slurping her nectar noisily, drinking her pleasure like an alcoholic falling off the wagon.

She collapsed, suddenly, spent, gasping for breath, her pussy giving a few final pumps that I sucked up like a man in the desert dying of thirst.

Suddenly a contraction took her and she did the half situp thing, panting those whistle/gasp sounds.

I crawled up beside her, kissed her, a slick, salty, snotty kiss the way her nose was running in conjunction with what was happening between her legs, and then said, "relax, rest."

I kept covering her face with those slick kisses, telling her she was beautiful, as I felt the residual tension leaving her body.

When she relaxed I brushed her hair, damp now with sweat, away from her face and just looked at her.

She looked beautiful in that instant, relaxed and content.

There were still several minutes between contractions so I brushed her hair with my fingers, stroking her like a cat, telling her she was beautiful.

When the next contraction hit I waited it out, stroking her hair, letting her squeeze my hand. When it passed I got out of bed and took her hand and helped her up.

"One more thing to take care of," I said, leading her into the bathroom where I had spread a rug and a towel in front of the toilet. She saw the water bottle hanging with its white hose terminating in the slightly bulb-ended douche syringe and looked up at me.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, smiling. "You'll be pushing with lots of muscles and we don't want a pile of shit down there now, do we?"

She giggled but didn't move.

"Down," I said, smiling at her, "on all fours."

"Oh god," she sort of moaned, but she got down on all fours.

I slipped the syringe into the tiny puckered opening I exposed with the thumb and forefinger of my left hand, watching as she squeezed, pulling it in when the bulbous end was past her sphincter.

I opened the little chrome clip to let the warm water flow into her and got to my knees beside her to rub her back, help her relax.

Suddenly she caught her breath and said, "take it out, baby, let me sit, or we're going to have a mess all over the place."

I shut off the water and helped her to sit, barely making it before another contraction struck and I could hear the water splashing loudly into the toilet.

She was squeezing both of my hands while the contraction held her body.

"Okay," I said when the wave had passed, "hold that thought."

I took the water bottle back to the sink and topped it off with warm water.

"Hold on now," I said, kissing her, telling her she was kind of cute sitting there like that.

We were still the best part of 15 minutes between contractions so we just sat like that and waited.

When the contraction hit, with another splash, I held her hands again and when it passed got her back onto all fours. Her ass was wet.

This time I got the entire bag of water into her before the next contraction.

She was sitting, emptying, when it hit and, again, I held her hand, well, I let her squeeze my hand like she was trying to crush my knuckles.

When it passed I had her stand and walked her to the vanity.

"Ass out," I said, and she put her hands on the vanity. She was a mess, her ass wet with water and what she had been squirting out. I soaked another of her small hand towels in hot water and washed her ass, spreading her cheeks and being thorough, and then dried her with another.

"Okay," I said, "back to bed with you."

The labor went on all day.

At one point, as a contraction had passed and she got her breathing under control she started laughing.

"Oh shit," she said through laughter, "it's true."

"What?" I said, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"Honey," she said, and broke down laughing again, then yelling and grabbing my hand again when a contraction hit, they were only a couple of minutes apart by then.

"Honey," she said again, giggling and panting, "if you don't get me a dill pickle NOW," the last word yelled although she was still fighting through giggles, "I'm going to die. I have a craving."

I laughed, freed my hand that she still had captured, and went into the kitchen.

Of COURSE, there were no damn pickles.

I went back into the bedroom where she was doing the Lamaze breathing thing, and waited for it to pass.

"Will you be all right for five minutes alone?" I asked.

"W-w-w-why?" she managed.

I laughed and said, "Gotta run get pickles."

She laughed again, a bit hysterically I thought if we're being honest, and said, "GOOOOO!!!!!!!"

I pulled on some pants and threw on a shirt, waved, and headed out.

There was a little convenience store a few blocks away where we got gas and I remembered they had these individually wrapped pickles, huge things. So I went there, got two of the oversized pickles, and then wandered through the store, picking up a small tube of mini chocolate donuts, a pint of ice cream, a bag of Fritos, and two individually wrapped sticks of jerky.

I paid and headed back to the house, walking in just in time to hear, "FUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"

I stopped in the kitchen, used a steak knife to cut the pickle free from its wrapper, and went into the bedroom.

She saw what I had in my hand and held out both of hers.

"GIMME!" she said and I laughed.

She took the oversize pickle in both hands and bit off the end, her eyes closed, looking like she was close to orgasm.

I watched as she devoured the pickle as if it was her first meal after a starvation diet.

She finished the pickle and I held up the rest of the contents of the bag in turn.

"Yessssssss," she hissed when I showed her the jerky, "and for God's sake get a spoon," she added when I showed her the ice cream.

I laughed and it was back to the kitchen. I cut the jerky out of its plastic wrapper, cut the seal on the ice cream, grabbed a spoon, heard her yell, and went back into the bedroom.

The contraction had her but she held out her hand for the jerky and bit the end off as she grimaced.

She chewed frantically and then accepted a spoonful of the ice cream.

I watched the way she bulged with the next contraction and caught a glimpse of the pink head. By then her cervix was well dilated.

"You are beautiful," I said and she laughed around a mouthful of the donut she was chewing, dropping saliva-soaked crumbs on her breasts and belly.

"I'm a wreck," she said, opening her mouth for another spoonful of the ice cream.

I chuckled and brushed sweat-wet hair off of her face and said, "but a beautiful wreck."

She smiled, grimaced, did that half situp, and the breathing thing as another contraction took her.

The labor lasted another full four hours with the contractions almost constant but the dose of the hormone was small enough that she didn't quite hit that "had-to-push" stage.

She was beautiful.

She was exhausted.

Finally, it came.

"I have to push," she said.

I kissed her, a snot slick, tear salt kiss, and said, softly, "push."

She yelled and I swallowed her yell with another kiss, inhaling, taking it.

"Oh JESUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" she cried out as she gave birth.

The baby slipped out all of a sudden, to lay there, pink and, I couldn't help but notice it was a boy, fully erect, and small.

"Push," I said, my hand between her legs now, feeling how much of her was pushed out with her effort, and remembering how beautiful Stephanie had been when she prolapsed completely.

"Davey," she said, but I repeated, "PUSH!"

Her cervix and then her uterus were in my hand, hard from the work it had been doing.

And I held it in my hand, the very core of her femininity, gently massaging it.

"Jesus," she breathed softly.

I continued what I was doing, massaging her womanhood, while she slowly relaxed.

I bent and kissed it, gently, tenderly, and whispered, "I love you," leaving her to decide if I was saying it to her or just to what I had in my hand. Honestly, I'm not sure myself.

As happens, as she relaxed everything returned to normal, and she returned into her body.

Then she laid back and finally relaxed, completely.

We kissed each other for a while but she was exhausted and soon she drifted off to sleep.

I held her like that, making sure she was fully asleep before I got up to clean up from what we'd done. I wanted her to wake to everything fresh.

I deflated the "baby" and put it away in the top drawer of the bathroom vanity. I used the towel that had been under her ass to clean up the bathroom where she had sprayed after the enema. I gathered all of the towels and washcloths I had used and tossed them in the laundry hamper. I cleaned the vanity mirror and the sinks and swept up the pubic hair from the floor. I felt like a fucking maid, but it was worth it. She would awaken to a clean room.

It was early evening and I went into the front room and started my xBox and played Titanfall 2 online for an hour or so before I realized I was sleepy myself. I hadn't worked as hard as she had, of course, but it HAD been work for me.

So I went back to bed.

As near as I could tell, she hadn't moved.

The scent of her hung heavy in the air and I came erect.

But all I did was crawl in beside her, snuggle close, and drift off to sleep.