Putting a Baby in Mommy's Tummmy

Too good, actually, because I popped like a goddamn teenager.

"Did you come?" she asked, stunned.

"Oh, I'm sorry baby. You're so beautiful and..." I stuttered in apology.

Then she began to cry again.

"Oh, baby, I'll make you cum, don't worry."

"We missed it," she wailed. "It's just a waste. You came in me now, but it's just a waste. I'll never get pregnant."

I don't know what possessed me, but I shook her and raised my voice saying, "No." Looking into her terrified eyes, I said sternly, "Any time I make love to you, my beautiful wife, that is no waste. I love you."

Well, I must have said the right thing.

"Oh, Ben, fuck me. Pound my pussy with your wonderful cock. Fill my cunt with cum. Screw me, baby, grind your cock on me and fill me up," she pleaded.

You must understand, I had known the woman for eight years, four in college, two in engagement, and two in marriage. I had never heard her use the F or C word, even in the throes of an orgasm. As to pussy, cock, and screw, only when she was referring to a cat, rooster, or the fastener. She had this maniacal look like someone starving looking at a buffet. The sudden talking dirty, coupled with her thrusting and frantically humping back, was quite exciting, to say the least. This was especially true since she kept it up.

"Oh, Ben, fuck that pussy, fill my cunt with your cum, baby. Oh, yeah, right there, harder baby, harder..."

She kept up this mantra like stream of filthy language and graphic descriptions of what she wanted me to do to her. Luckily, I'm young and I stayed hard. I feared if I hadn't, from the look in her eye, she would have nailed a board to my dick. It was so erotic that I had to begin to think of ball scores to settle me down. When that wore off, I thought of my sister. Then I had to think of my mother. Liz continued her filthy talk interspersed with animal noises, groans, and moans.

"Oh Liz, I'm gonna cum," I whined.

The most amazing thing happened. For the first time, we came together. We ground our pelvises on each other and had mutual orgasms. Wailing and squealing we writhed together, humping and clasping each other in the fervent heat of our love.

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About two to three weeks later, Liz was ill. With all the stuff going around, flu, Covid, and such I, insisted on taking her to urgent care. They took her in the back for a quick exam. We waited together in the waiting room for the results, Liz leaning on me, cradled under my arm. Finally, they called us into an office and we sat in the two chairs facing a desk. The doctor finally came in. He looked like Colonel Sanders in a mask. I'm sure you've figured it out by now. Apparently, the timing can be off by a day or so.

"We have found your problem, Mrs. Madison," he began, "I hope this is good news. You are pregnant. You're experiencing a mild case of morning sickness."

Thankfully, Liz had a mask on, or her chin may have fallen into her lap. It didn't take her long to react and she jumped up with a shout. I stood and she hugged me. Then she ran around and hugged the doctor, much to his surprise. He managed to get her calm enough to tell her to go to an OB and gave her some pamphlets.

I swear that Liz has a pocket sewn into her birthday suit where she keeps her phone because she is never without it, except today. Feeling ill, she had left it on the kitchen island. To her continual pleadings to hurry up, I got us home. As I pulled the car into the driveway, I punched the button to raise the garage door. The garage entrance door opens into the kitchen and is never locked. As the car stopped, she flung the car door open and raced to the kitchen. I got out and closed her door. As I opened the door to enter the house, I heard the squealing as Liz was face-timing her mother.

Liz set about calling everyone we knew. She called her mother, then my mother, then her sister, then my sister, then her brother. There was no need to call my brother, I don't have one. Then she called aunts, uncles, cousins, and I think her mother's college roommate. It seemed almost like she was purging, like she had to get it out. Finally, with no more people to call, she put her phone down and turned all shy and coquettish.

"Come here," she cooed.

I went to her, she put her arms up around my neck and we kissed while our tongues danced.

When our lips parted, she closed her eyes and shivered.

Taking my hand, she stepped towards the stairs and cooed, "Come on, Daddy."

"What?" I whispered with a confused look.

"Mommy wants a good fucking," she purred.

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The epilogue to this story is a good one. Nine months later, on the hottest July day on record, Ben Jr. entered the world. Weighing in at eight and a half pounds and twenty-one inches long, he was a good-sized healthy baby. After the customary days in the hospital, I brought Liz and Ben home to a house filled with kith and kin. Liz, sat court proudly in the living room with all the ladies crowded around her, young and old. They were all passing Ben around, cooing, cuddling, and doing all those things women do.

All the men hung around the kitchen table near the refrigerator, talking sports and drinking beer. Uncle Bill announced we had run out of beer in the fridge, so I told them I would get some more from the other fridge in the garage.

After getting a twelve-pack out of the fridge, I stopped to pat the handle of the first present I had ever bought my son. It was the handle of a little red wagon. Ben and I are going to go out on Halloween and get revenge on the neighborhood by getting some of that fucking candy back.

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