Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 30-32

As I felt the warm, thick fluid being spread over the sealed entrance to my womb, the fear that I was now ruined as far as normal sex was concerned flooded into my mind once again. Though he might never truly satisfy me in bed again, I concentrated on the immense love I unquestionably felt for the extraordinary man whose body was throbbing and pulsing inside mine.

The man who was the father of all my children. At least, all those born so far.

Chapter Thirty-One

"Is it true Mum?"

The voice of Josh, my oldest son sounded terribly serious down the phone early the next morning. Izzy must indeed have done what I had predicted and told her brothers immediately. Being Monday and a work day, we were up early and getting dressed, a fact not made any easier by my body which was reminding me in the way it knew best that a small creature was growing inside it.

I was feeling very sick.

Pete was in the shower so I had answered the phone next to the bed, wondering which of our remaining children would be the first to call in disbelief. The sound of Josh's voice came as no surprise; he would have been awake for some time and was on his way to work if the sound of trains in the background was anything to go by.

Confident and independent, I hadn't seen my oldest child in the flesh for nearly two months though we had spoken many times on the phone. He and his girlfriend lived together in a rented flat in London and had been deeply involved in their careers since leaving University three years ago. He seldom came north to visit.

"Is what true?" I asked disingenuously, rather annoyed at his aggressive tone.

"What Izzy just told me; that you're pregnant. Is it true?"

I took a deep breath. It had started; the wave of questions, challenges and disbelief that Pete and I had been dreading was about to begin in earnest.

"Yes, it's true Josh," I replied quietly.

"Jesus Mum," he exclaimed though it sounded more in genuine shock than in horror.

"I know."

I couldn't think what else to say. There was a brief silence.

"How far gone are you?" he asked.

"She's due in December," I added.

"She? Izzy didn't tell me that."

"We can't be completely sure, but chances are it's a girl. Are you shocked?"

"You could say that," he gasped. "I thought you were too..."

His voice sensibly faded before he had uttered the dreaded word. I filled in the gap for him.

"Too old?"

"No! Well, yes," he corrected himself honestly.

"To be honest, it was quite a surprise to me too," I confessed, more kindly than I had with Izzy. "But your Grandma had an even later menopause."

Either he didn't know about his Dad's vasectomy or he hadn't yet made the connection. I was pleased not to have to lie to my firstborn son and strictly speaking, hadn't yet done so. Okay, I had let him come to his own erroneous conclusions but that wasn't the same as actually lying, was it?

That was what I tried to convince myself anyway.

"Was it an accident?" he asked. "How did it happen?"

For a moment I wondered how many sons had ever asked their mothers whether they had got pregnant deliberately. But Josh wasn't as malicious as his sister could be, so I answered him as directly as I dared.

"It wasn't planned."

"How does Dad feel about it?"

"We're both apprehensive and it will be strange to have a baby in the house again but we're pretty confident we can handle it. We did okay with you three, didn't we?"

There was an ironic laugh down the phone. A feeling of relief came over me. If Josh could laugh, then at least one of our children might be, if not on our side, at least not actively hostile.

"Are you upset about it? Having another sister?" I asked, hoping for further reassurance.

"It's one hell of a shock Mum," his voice sounded shocked too. "But give me time; I guess can probably live with it." His words were making me feel a little better, but then he added. "I'm going to have a few distractions of my own."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

My son Joshua paused just as his father would have done.

"I mean that a few months after becoming a Mum again, you're going to be a Grandma too!"

My mouth dropped wide open. It was still open as Pete entered the bedroom a few moments later.

"What's wrong Penn? Are you okay?"

"I raised my head and stared at him, phone still in my hand, completely stunned.

***

If you can think of a more disorienting start to a week than mine, you have my deepest sympathy. I was distracted as I drove to work, missing my turning and having to go around the block twice. Even the busy banality of a hospital on a Monday morning couldn't keep the thoughts out of my mind for more than a few minutes and as lunchtime approached my tummy was as full of butterflies as it was of baby.

A Grandmother and a new mother at the same time? At least the Devil has a sense of humour!

As part of our plan to 'go public', I had arranged to have a sandwich with the Head of Research -- notionally my Boss but actually a long-term friend too. Ten years older than me, Sandra and I had worked together for over fifteen years on and off, ever since she had originally recruited me.

The unspoken plan was that when she retired, I would take over her role. The news I had to impart that lunchtime would have quite an impact on those plans.

"You're what?" she gasped, eyes wide, her hands on her mouth.

"It's true," I blushed.

"I thought..." she began unimaginatively then paused.

"I suppose I thought so too," I conceded.

"And you're going to have it?"

I nodded.

"Have her," I corrected. "We think it's as girl and yes, if nature allows, she'll be born in December."

"How did Pete take it?"

"He's okay. We're both a bit anxious but..."

As expected, my scandalised friend wanted to know all the details about how this miraculous event had taken place. She got the party-line of failed vasectomy coupled with late menopause. I could see the scepticism written all over her face but I dug in my heels and insisted.

"So what about here?" she eventually asked, clearly frustrated with my reticence. "Are you going to stop working?"

"I don't want to," I told her honestly. "I was going to ask for maternity leave like all the other Mums do."

"How long for? What about your research?"

"I'm not sure how long I'll need but it could be the full year," I sighed. "Maybe I can work part time while I'm off but it all depends how I am physically and how the baby is."

"How's it going so far?"

I laughed ironically.

"As smoothly as any of the others," I frowned. "The baby's normal and my blood pressure's fine. Apart from a bit of sickness, I'm fit as a fiddle despite my age."

"Thank goodness for that."

I smiled.

"So, I need to plan to be without you; maybe for a whole year?" Sandie asked.

I sighed and shrugged.

"I'm sorry to let you down. You'll have to cover my students; it will be hard to get anyone else in my field."

She put her hand on my arm and smiled.

"Don't worry! Don't even think about it. It'll be a pleasure."

"What?"

"I'm sick to death of having to worry about the poor millennials and the next generation's angst. It'll be a pleasure to do it. You show those ungrateful snowflakes what a real woman can do. I'm proud of you Penny!"

She meant to show real support and I loved her for it, but mostly all I could see was an added layer of expectation and pressure that I really didn't need.

"You've got a couple of weeks off now, right?"

She was right. In all the fuss over Manchester and my pregnancy, I had all but forgotten the summer holiday in France that Pete and I were due to take in only a week's time.

"Well just make sure you enjoy it. Relax and don't worry about us here. By the time you come back I'll have all the maternity paperwork done and we'll be ready to plan your workload around the baby."

"That's really nice of you Sandie..." I began.

"Not a bit of it. You're my best researcher and an old friend. Besides, now's the time for we older women to stick together."

Tears began to well up in my eyes. Whether this was hormones or sentimentality I don't know but the emotions were very hard to control.

"But perhaps you and I need to have a talk about birth control afterwards, eh?"

I laughed out loud then cried a little more, but it felt good. Another box had been ticked; my secret was well and truly out.

The wheels were beginning to turn.

***

"I always liked Sandie," Pete said sincerely as we lay in bed that night.

"She just took it in her stride," I replied. "I couldn't believe it. And as for her attitude towards the young researchers..."

"I have the same problem," Pete said. "It's not like when I was newly qualified. Now we have to watch working hours, time off, holiday entitlement, maternity leave, paternity leave, study leave... it just goes on and on."

We read our books for a few minutes before he turned towards me again.

"I'm beginning to sound like a Grumpy Old Man already," he grinned.

I smiled back. He always had but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Are you ready to be a Grandma as well as a new Mum?" he asked.

"I'm not really ready to be either," I replied. "I was just getting used to..."

"Being a Hot Wife?" he completed my sentence for me. "Or being faithful again?"

I gave him a sharp look, wondering if he was beginning to feel resentful about the prospect of bringing up another man's child. But I saw nothing untoward in his expression.

"Is that part of our lives over now? I asked.

"I bloody well hope not," Pete grinned. "After Manchester I've got a real taste of what that kind of life could be like."

He leaned over and kissed me, rubbing his palm over my baby bump.

"And from what I saw, you won't be in too much of a hurry to give it up either."

"Don't embarrass me Pete," I blushed, but did not argue.

He was right; having had a taste of what great sex really could be like, the idea I might never experience it again was inconceivable.

"So, we'll try and build it into our lives, whether we're being a couple, a family or Grandparents," he said in a matter-of-fact way.

I snuggled up to him by way of eager agreement. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my bump a little longer.

"It used to be common," he said after a while.

"What was?"

"I mean in Victorian and Edwardian times it wasn't at all unusual for mothers and daughters to have babies at the same time. My Great Aunt Jean and my Uncle Fred were only two years apart. Her mother was his Grandmother."

"It might have escaped your notice that those times ended a long time ago," I replied bitterly. "The only places it happens now in on the sink estates where the mother is fifteen years old, the Grandmother is thirty and there are no men in either household."

It wasn't true and I knew it but I was unsettled. Just what I was unsettled about I couldn't really say; maybe it was my hormones playing with my mind as part of the pregnancy.

"Josh is about the same age I was when we had him," Pete added reasonably. "Besides, it's not really any of our business."

Sometimes my husband's calm nature could be infuriating. It was even more infuriating when he was right. He held out his arm and I snuggled closer to his strong, reassuring frame under the duvet. It usually helped me relax and it began to work this time too.

"I felt a flutter today," I whispered once I had calmed down a bit.

"Really?" Pete asked excitedly.

"Mmm. Just a little one but it was definitely there."

"Can I feel?"

I pulled up my night dress and felt my husband's gentle hands exploring the small bulge in my belly.

"I can't feel anything," he sounded disappointed.

Pete lowered his head and placed his right ear against my bare tummy.

"There! Did you get it?" I asked, feeling the tiniest flutter again.

"Yes! At least I think I did."

He waited a minute or so with his ear on my belly then gave up, rose in bed and kissed me on the lips again.

"We are doing the right thing, Penn," he said in his most reassuring voice. "Having the baby, I mean."

"I suppose so," I replied. "But it's going to be tougher than we imagine. We're twice the age we were first time round."

"But three times as experienced," he rightly added. "We'll be okay. Goodnight Penn!"

"'Night!" I replied.

Pete's breathing became slow and deep within minutes but I lay awake in the darkness for some time, worrying. Pete had sounded clear and certain that everything would be okay with our new baby but I wasn't anywhere near as sure.

Whatever my amazing husband might say now, how he would feel when the baby was born and he was faced with the reality of having to bring up another man's child for at least eighteen years could be very different.

Having to see every day the walking, talking evidence of his wife's infidelity and stupidity might be very different. Having to face the doubts, questions and suspicions of our friends and family would put pressures on us both that we were only seeing the first glimpses of.

Would either or both of us crack under those pressures? Only time would tell. Meanwhile we had our last holiday to enjoy as a couple before we became a young family again and domestically, all hell broke loose!

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Bouchon!"

Two weeks later, the sign over the motorway sneered at us as we stared miserably at the exhaust pipes of the ocean of cars in front of us. Yes, it was bright; yes, it was sunny; yes, it was the South of France but for a woman whose bladder was getting smaller by the day, being stuck in a French traffic jam was hell on earth.

We had both been looking forward to the holiday for months.

Our daughter Izzy had come home from University for the summer vacation and was working in a local shop. Apart from escaping from the disapproving atmosphere that, thanks to her presence, permeated our house, we were very much aware that it might be our last chance to have a romantic break as a couple before the baby was born and we became a family with a young child again.

In the past we had enjoyed breaks in the South of France both as a couple and as a family; it was one of the places we both loved best in the world. Pete had pushed the boat out, booking a large, three-bedroom gite with a private pool to give the two of us some privacy and luxury.

There were plenty of excellent restaurants nearby and as many ancient monuments as a visitor could hope for. The sun was warm, the pool was cool and the food was excellent.

Pete had insisted on driving us down to Provence for our summer holiday, spending a night en route in the historic town of Troyes. At least that had been the plan; when we had actually tried to book, the only room available had been in a budget hotel by the airport. Instead of strolling through the romantic streets of the old city, we had spent the evening in a large chain restaurant surrounded by large, noisy families from many European countries all on their way to the sea and the sun.

Being France though, the food had been more than tolerable and the evening had passed pleasantly. It would have passed even more pleasantly had I been allowed a glass or two of wine, but alcohol was definitely off the menu for the middle-aged woman with the still-small-but-now-unmistakeable baby bump.

Fortunately, we reached our holiday home just after lunch the next day and all the stresses of the journey had evaporated. Pete unpacked while I lay down on the sofa for half an hour then the two of us walked the short distance into the village and bought the necessaries for our dinner that evening.

After returning to the gite, we pulled on our swimming costumes and passed a quiet, companionable hour in the pool. That was immediately been followed by a light but pleasant dinner which I really enjoyed cooking and an equally pleasant hour in bed upstairs.

Up till that day, the more my belly swelled, the less attractive I felt but perversely, the more Pete seemed to desire me in bed. His obvious attraction and instinctive arousal at the sight of my increasing baby bump were so obviously both powerful and genuine that even my battered self-confidence could not avoid taking a giant leap forward.

After paying a solid twenty minutes of oral attention to my boobs and between my legs on both sides, Pete had pushed me onto my back then mounted and fucked me like a man possessed. As a result, our first copulation had been brief but intense.

The second round that followed half an hour later was much longer, much more controlled and for me at least, much more pleasurable.

As usual, I had not reached orgasm on my husband's familiar, slim cock but I had come closer to climax than normal and anyway, I was still tingling from the stream of surprisingly powerful orgasms his mouth and tongue had brought a short while before.

After a promising beginning, the holiday had become better and better. The ancient but recently-restored gite was everything we had hoped it would be and the pool was sheer bliss in the heat. With its all-concealing garden wall, I even started swimming and sunbathing in my sole remaining bikini rather than my over-tight one-piece costume despite the bulging tummy now clearly visible between its bra and panties.

"You've not looked this sexy in a long time," Pete told me on so many occasions even I eventually began to believe him. "Don't you dare wrap that towel round your tummy!"

This semi-naked, semi-public exposure of the results of my infidelity had driven my husband to still greater efforts in the bedroom. A week into the holiday we had made love every day, sometimes in the mornings, usually in the evening and with a few post-pool afternoon copulations thrown in for good measure.

We had even had our first successful anal sex. I get a thrill writing about it even now. Taking lessons from Adam's technique, the position in which he had penetrated me and with the liberal use of lubricant, Pete's long, slim cock had finally entered my rectum unaided at eleven-thirty on the Wednesday evening.

It was nothing less than a revelation. Though the combination of Pete's slim tool and my loosening vagina had long since failed to deliver the climaxes I desperately desired, now it was no longer unexplored territory, the dimensions of his cock and the tightness of my near-virgin anus were an almost-perfect match.

Once the shock of penetration had passed, my body adjusted to the unfamiliar presence far more quickly than it had to Adam's thick shaft. Within a dozen strokes Pete had me panting and gasping for breath; within two minutes I was face down on the mattress, my legs spread, my body shaking uncontrollably with the first of many orgasms I was to enjoy that night.

Though successful, our improvised anal technique had been inexperienced and unsophisticated; we had both been sore the next morning, so it was a couple of days before we repeated the experience. When it eventually took place, this second anal copulation had been even more successful, making me cry out my husband's name in ecstasy as he reached his own climax and, in one of the longest ejaculations I could remember, filled my rectum with his semen.

From there, the holiday had gone from strength to strength both romantically and sexually.

Emboldened by Pete's obvious delight in my condition, knowing there was no one we knew close by and with a powerful need to keep my growing body cool in the Provencal heat, I had felt confident enough to wear the kind of short sundresses I had worn when we had first been together.

Well, perhaps they were a little longer than in my twenties but the amount of thigh they exposed was more than I had shown in decades.

Apart from a tightness around the tummy, I had been very pleasantly surprised how my fifty-one-year-old body could look in such a garment. Okay my legs weren't what they had been when I had first been pregnant all those years ago but they were no less slim and apart from the bump, I had put on very little weight.