Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 22-29

Author's note. After a long break and in response to many recent messages, Penny is back! The whole story is being turned into full length novels so the style is slightly different but it's really Penny and it's really me writing.

I hope you still enjoy it.

Chapter 22

"Can you see?" the young radiologist asked, running the square plastic sensor over my lower belly.

Pete and I were in a private examination room in the discreet clinic in which the Gynaecologist I had previously visited was based. It was far enough away from home for our visit not to be noticed by our friends or colleagues and the consultant himself was known for his discretion.

I was lying on my back; my slightly swollen tummy was bared and covered in goo to allow our first ultrasound examination to take place. Everything on the screen appeared as it should; for better or worse I had passed the twelve-week watershed with my pregnancy intact.

"Oh my God yes," I exclaimed, amazed; for all the world as if this was my first pregnancy rather than my fourth.

But I could be forgiven for this; the last time I had felt the cold slimy conductivity gel on my skin had been over twenty years earlier when the contents of my womb had been Isobel, Pete and my third child. It was easily long enough ago for me to have forgotten just how great a miracle it could feel having a new baby growing inside me.

From his body language, my husband was clearly feeling something similar even though this time he knew that the baby in my belly had no genetic link to him at all. This child had been conceived in the bed of a twenty-nine-year-old Personal Trainer during my first ever one-night stand.

The sex that had resulted in my complete loss of common sense and subsequent pregnancy had been some of the best in my life -- at least, the best I had known up till then. Unknown to me, the very best was still to come. During the full night I had spent in his grubby bed in his chaotic, messy bedroom, young, fit Darren had fucked me in any and every way he wanted, inseminating my unprotected body at least four times.

I had then passed the entire night on my back with his semen inside me.

In the throes of the many orgasms he had given me, the 'breeding frenzy' had struck with a vengeance, making me so aroused that I had begged the boy to knock me up; to fuck a baby into my belly just as I had begged my first lover Tony to do the same so many times.

Unknown to either of us, my wish had come true; I left Darren's shared house the following morning a pregnant woman.

"It's still amazing even after all these years."

Pete agreed, squeezing my hand, nobly keeping up the pretence that he was the baby's father.

It wasn't hard to be amazed. As we stared open mouthed at the image presented on the screen, my mind flew back decades to my first pregnancy. Enraptured, we watched as the girl pointed out a clearly distinguishable head, spine, arms and legs. We gasped helplessly at the rapidly-beating image of a tiny heart as if we had never seen such a miracle before.

Before us was the clear outline of a child though blurred by the machine's resolution and the early stage in its development. The image wasn't clear enough to tell whether the foetus was male or female; the radiologist thought probably a girl but to Pete and me, that didn't matter.

"The baby looks fine, Mrs. Barker," the girl said with a reassuring smile. "Something of a miracle, isn't it?"

She was right; for a woman nearly fifty-two to have become pregnant in the first place was a miracle in itself, let alone having apparently been impregnated by a man whose vasectomy had taken place over a decade ago.

I felt my husband's hand gripping mine tightly and the tears beginning to form in my eyes.

We looked at each other searchingly; after so many years of marriage each of us knew instinctively how the other felt. My pregnancy wasn't just a problem anymore; it wasn't an embarrassment or evidence of shame.

This was now a real, living human baby growing inside me; a new son or daughter being created.

Nothing was said; nothing needed to be said. This was a real child and no matter what the consequences to our lives might be, we both knew there was no way either of us could deliberately harm that unborn child.

The always-remote option of a termination had just become a total impossibility. Now, if nature permitted, at fifty-two years of age, Dr. Penny Barker PhD was going to have another baby.

The child of a man not her husband.

***

The prospect of becoming a mother again would have been frightening for any woman at my time of life. The prospect of having what my grandmother would have called call a love-child and of a small but important proportion of our friends suspecting this was simply terrifying.

And as for what our children would say; that was beyond the realm of nightmares. But at least the most important man in my life was supporting me, even if he couldn't possibly be happy.

"Are you really sure you can live with it?" I asked Pete as we drove back to our city after the appointment.

"Hmmm?" he asked, distracted.

"Bringing up another man's child," I said quietly.

He thought for a moment.

"I'm trying not to see it that way," he eventually said.

"How do you mean?"

My husband reached across and ran his fingers gently over my softly swelling belly as he spoke.

"I'm trying to make myself see things more positively. Okay, I'm not the baby's genetic father; that's not a great start but it's not everything. I reckon I could do a good job of being its Dad."

"You really mean that?"

"Right now I do," he replied. "There's a long way to go but at the moment I can handle that idea."

My husband is an amazing man. As many of you have brutally observed, I do not deserve him. I squeezed his hand as he continued to talk.

"At the moment I don't feel jealous. It's odd, but I don't."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Really. It's not like someone else made you pregnant when I couldn't," he continued. "We have three kids already."

That was certainly true. The idea of having to tell them they were about to have a new brother or sister more than twenty years their junior did not appeal to me at all. But Pete hadn't finished.

"And it's not like a second marriage where the child's genetic father is always in the way, trying to interfere and maybe take the child out at weekends," he went on as we turned onto the city's ring road. "Darren doesn't even know he's going to be a father and never needs to know. If we're careful and lucky, only you and I need ever know the truth."

In a strange way, the unspoken acceptance that my pregnancy would proceed according to the will of nature had already brought an unexpected feeling of relief to our complicated marriage. Now, instead of agonising about the apparently logical but emotionally devastating decision whether to have a termination, Pete and I simply had to buckle down and deal with the situation before us.

No more doubts or debates; there would be no abortion. I was pregnant and was going to remain so. We were going to have another baby and had to get used to it.

But accepting that fact didn't mean it would be easy. It just made the problem clear.

The timeframe was clear too. With an official 'due date' of early December, we could now plan ahead and take what few steps we could to try and mitigate the damage. There was no time to wait; in a few very short weeks one or other of our friends would notice the changing shape of my belly, the secret would be out and the scandalous rumours would begin.

At least the increasing size of my boobs was unlikely to attract attention. As readers know well, my breasts were and are almost non-existent so the single cup size I had grown so far was unnoticeable. If I ran to previous form, I would swell at least another two cups before giving birth. This would most certainly be noticed and remarked upon -- but my swelling belly would have given me away long before then.

The shock and amazement among our friends would be huge but I hoped, manageable.

I strongly suspected that the main reaction from our kids would be disgust. Certainly that was what I expected from our daughter Isobel but I held on to the hope that the boys would be more understanding and that Izzy would quickly get over it.

That was of course, if she never found out how the child had been conceived. That terrible revelation would change everything and had to be avoided at all costs.

"So are we clear how we explain the fact that you're pregnant?" Pete asked, re-running the conversation we had started so many times but not yet finished. "We have to agree a story and stick to it like glue."

"Everyone probably thinks I've gone through the menopause already," I said. "The news that I'm still fertile will be shocking enough on its own, let alone getting myself knocked up."

I thought for a minute or two longer.

"I still think the best bet is to say that your vasectomy reversed itself," I suggested.

"I'm not sure," Pete replied. "Recanalisation is very rare. No more than one in four thousand - and some of our friends will know that."

"But it is possible," I pressed him.

"Yes it's possible," he conceded. "Vasectomy techniques have changed and I was snipped a long time ago when it was nowhere near as reliable as it is now."

"Well then, can we use it as the excuse?"

"It's not a good one but it might be all we have," he said gloomily. "Whatever we tell them, our lives are going to change, that's for certain."

He was right there. Our lives would never be the same again.

"I'm sorry Pete," I began.

"Don't be," he interrupted.

"But it's all..."

"Your fault? That's not the way I want to think about it, okay?"

"And you haven't even had your fantasy," I said anxiously. "That'll be nearly impossible if we have a baby."

"There's still time for that," he smiled knowingly. "Don't you worry!"

"What do you mean?" I asked as we pulled into the hospital car park.

"I've had an idea," he said jumping out of the driving seat and running round to my side to help me out.

I smiled; Pete was acting the over-cautious expectant father already.

"So what's the idea?" I asked him as we walked towards the building together.

"Never you mind," he grinned. "Have a good day, Penn."

With that, my husband went into work without saying another word.

The next week was as close to normal as it could have been. We both went to work, we ate together, watched television together, talked together and even slept together in the biblical sense, sadly still without orgasms for me despite the heightened sensitivity my pregnancy was bringing to my nipples, boobs and vulva.

Work was busy for both of us, which helped make things feel more normal. After all the fear and excitement of the last year, I can't describe how wonderful it felt to be a little bored once in a while too. Some days I even managed to forget I was pregnant for a few precious hours.

We both knew it was the quiet before the storm but that made these days even more precious.

My writing improved too, both in terms of ideas and the time I managed to spend in it. As before this was mostly early in the morning but my morning sickness was obliging me to get up early anyway and I needed something to distract me from its unpleasant grip.

It was hard to keep my stories anonymous. Incidents from my own real life seemed to work their own way into the plots without my conscious knowledge. A great deal of proof reading was necessary to stop any personal details getting published but the results when they were published, were pleasing.

Less pleasing were the troll messages that followed. Most were the same old stuff and could safely be ignored but at least two seemed to have a deeper, more personal edge.

I tried to ignore them.

Chapter 23

"You've done what?" I squealed in astonishment when Pete told me his plan the following Wednesday evening.

We were in bed together, having just replayed my afternoon with Will one more time, once again ending up with me on all fours on the bedroom rug with my handsome husband taking me from behind, my anus once again deeply invaded by his thumb in what for me had become a major help on the road to the very minor orgasm I had just enjoyed, the first in some considerable time.

"I've booked them!" he replied. "Aren't you pleased?"

Pete had fucked me surprisingly roughly given that the baby was growing barely centimetres from where the head of his long, slim cock had pummelled my cervix. I could tell he had something on his mind but could not have guessed the truth; that he had actually bitten the bullet and booked the evening with a real escort couple that we had fantasised about for so long.

"You're joking!" I gasped in disbelief sitting bolt upright and staring at him.

"No, I'm serious. It's all fixed!"

"When?" I asked astonished.

"Friday night."

"This Friday?"

"Yes. This Friday."

"Two days from now?"

"Of course. The sooner the better! We had nothing in the diary, did we?"

"Oh my God! Where?"

"Manchester of course. I've booked the hotel too."

"But..."

My words faded as the truth dawned on me.

After he had watched me on poor quality homemade video being fucked by Will, the blackmailing young would-be Personal Trainer at our local sports club, it had taken Pete a little time to come to terms with what had happened. Although he was still the man I knew; warm and loving I could tell something inside him had changed and there could only be one cause of this change.

Since then he had spent a great deal of time at the computer. I suspected he was watching the video over and over again but knew I had to wait for him to start the conversation I felt sure had to follow. Two days later I noticed new video editing software had been installed but still didn't say anything.

Whatever he was doing on his own, the physical aspects of Pete and my marriage simply soared. From the first day onwards, we fucked as wildly as we had ever fucked at any time in our marriage. The first night, after watching the video clips for almost a full hour, Pete had quite literally torn my clothes from my body, forced me onto my knees on the study carpet and fucked me as mercilessly from behind as Will had done on the screen.

The anger and pent-up emotion in his body was almost frightening, slamming into mine as he took me in what as times resembled a hate-fuck. On one occasion, Pete's fingers had dug so hard into my hips they had marked me for days afterwards, his long, slender cock pummelling my cervix with such violence that I cried aloud, once in pained pleasure, once in defence of my unborn baby.

Perversely the presence of that baby in my belly made this sexual revolution easier rather than harder for me to deal with. As in the first two of my previous three pregnancies, my own libido was simply soaring. In the first place this helped meet the increased demands placed on me by my husband, but it had probably helped me cope with my sessions with Will too.

The news that Pete had decided to take big step forward and ensure he would actually on the spot for my next fucking should therefore have come as no surprise, but it did.

"Why now?" I asked. "I thought you didn't like the idea of using..."

"Prostitutes?" he completed my sentence for me.

"Escorts," I corrected him.

"I suppose it was seeing the scan," he replied. "It all became real. We're actually going to have another baby. When he or she is born we'll be right back into nappies and sleepless nights again. The chances of you being a Hot Wife then are nil so I thought..."

"You thought we had to take the opportunity while we still could?"

"Right."

I thought for a moment. It made sense in a perverse way.

"Which couple did you book?" I eventually asked stunned, wondering which stranger's cock was going to be thrust into me and provide the climaxes my husband so wanted to watch.

"Adam and Eve," he smiled, his eyes twinkling.

My mind rushed back to the websites I had visited in an attempt to remember what this particular couple looked like. They were all physically attractive but some had seemed more appealing than others for naive first timers like us.

"Think about it," Pete smiled as his fingers stroked the place where my pubic hair used to be. "Forty-eight hours from now you'll have been fucked half stupid by a professional with a huge cock."

The thought was already more than a little frightening before Pete added his killer punchline.

"And I will have been there and watched it every step of the way!"

***

That night and the following night my sleep was disturbed by erotic dreams and bizarre terrors. Indeed I was downstairs in the kitchen at five-thirty that Friday morning with a tummy full of butterflies.

I tried to write but couldn't. I tried to read the news on-line but that had been no more successful.

Pete and I had talked briefly about it over breakfast but there had been no time for anything other than telling each other how nervous we were - and for Pete to reassure me over and over again that I didn't have to do anything I wasn't comfortable with.

To be honest, I wasn't absolutely sure I would be able to do anything at all; I was full of anxiety and the idea of paying for sex felt so alien even though it had been my suggestion in the first place. But having checked their website a dozen times, I knew that the couple we were going to meet were attractive and experienced.

And they had such good reviews.

Besides, after all I had inflicted on him over the past months, it would be unthinkably cruel for me simply to back out now without even trying, just when my wonderful husband was about to have his fantasy come true. I owed it to Pete at least to give it a try, especially given how amazing he had been over my steadily advancing pregnancy.

Though I had never done it in cold blood, it wasn't as if I hadn't had sex with a stranger before, was it?

It was all but impossible to concentrate at work; my mind straying badly throughout the day's meetings and consultations. I would have to spend extra time the following week making up for my lack of attention that Friday but as the hours ticked past painfully slowly past I could do little but count them.

Pete was due to pick me up from work at around five o'clock and we were to drive straight to Manchester. My overnight bag was finally packed after many hours of indecision in which I had kept changing my mind about what to put in it; what to wear to make myself look and feel sexy.

I felt like a teen on a first date but I wasn't the only one for whom this evening was going to be a watershed; Pete was buzzing with excitement too. The night before he had shown me the new camera he had bought for taking pictures and videos while I was being fucked.

Given Izzy's problems with home movies I was very uncomfortable with the idea of any more recordings of my infidelities existing. But my husband knew nothing of his daughter's growing reputation as a slut and, having seen my first highly amateurish video with Will, had insisted we would both want souvenirs.

He had promised to delete everything if I really wanted him to and was being so sweet and excited about it all that I didn't feel I could make a fuss without giving Izzy's secret away.

Once again in our new, unfaithful relationship, I realised just how much I loved my wonderful, sensitive husband and really hoped it would all go well - especially for him.

Meanwhile all I could do was watch the hands on the clock turning slowly round.

I'm ashamed to confess I was so excited I had to change my knickers twice during the day. I hadn't wet my seat in public since I was a teenager at school. What was happening to me? Thank God I kept some spare panties in the bottom drawer of my desk in case of 'accidents' during my time of the month. They had never been needed until now.