Spread the Seed

*

Over lunch, I couldn't find a way to express the questions racing in my head. If the blowjob in the front of her SUV was just another way Dawn showed her sweet-tea kindness to everybody, was she sweet to me to the same degree she was to everybody? Or was the blowjob just the way she was equally kind to me? Or was she giving a lot of blowjobs, as she thought they were needed? If so, how did that square with Christian morality? Was I special as a stud for the hopeful mothers in the church, or was I...special as a person to her? I knew I sounded like a child, thinking that. I should've just been grateful for the blowjob, like any 20-year-old man. But Dawn had sparked my thinking as well as my lizard-brain affection for her lips, which had been on the head of my cock not 20 minutes earlier. In retrospect it's easy to see I was falling for her. But at the beginning that always feels confusing.

"I bet you have a lot of questions, dear," she said, across the table from me, eating pita and hummus.

"I won't lie, I'm a little confused."

"You didn't think a sweet little church girl would go straight to taking care of business like that, did you?"

"Is that what you think of it? 'Taking care of business'?"

She could tell I was feeling a little wounded. "Oh, sweetheart, do you really think I'm the kind of lady who hands out blowjobs willy-nilly? It's been ages for me." She leaned in conspiratorially across the table and whispered, "And you have a really nice one."

We smiled. I was happy for the reassurance. "But be honest with me Dawn. You said you wanted to make sure I was in 'working order.'"

"That's not just about your cock, hon, or your sperm. It's about your heart, and I know you have a good one. You work hard, you're polite to everybody who comes in, you ask questions. Maybe you haven't been baptized yet in the name of our lord and savior Jesus Christ, but you're not hurtful. That's unfortunately rare, dear." Her eyes got a little teary, as if there was something about her ex-husband that she was remembering but not quite ready to share.

I smiled at her and took her hand, gently, feeling a thrum of true affection cross between us. I tried to lighten the mood by focusing on the practicalities. "So the idea is that I would give Jill some...help. And her husband would OK with it?"

She squeezed my hand. "He would look the other way. Jill gets to have a blessed family, and you get to know you've been of assistance."

"A happy little helper," I said.

"A happy little helper," she replied. "Doing God's work. I'd be so damn proud of you."

*

Dawn had warned me that while she had informed Jill of my "availability," she would need some coaxing. Jill insisted that she'd never been with a man besides her husband, and though she wanted a child, she would need to feel comfortable with me. She told me Jill would invite me over to her house, but that I shouldn't assume anything would happen right away.

When I came home that night, Cait was by herself---dad was off on a trip to Asia. And Cait had that chill, semistoned look on her face that I was starting to get used to, now that I knew what was causing it. I had a hard time getting the image of her smoking and masturbating out of my head. It was an illicit thrill seeing a woman fall so headlong into her pleasure, and knowing that it was my stepmom gave it even more of a taboo vibe.

I knew that her typical routine in the afternoons was to work out in the basement gym, shower and change, then smoke a little. But today she seemed to have skipped the shower and went straight for the weed. She was a little sweaty, beading on her chest above her cleavage, her tank top partly sweated through, along with the tops of her gray yoga pants. There was something about her that looked sensually relaxed, just-fucked.

"Hey sweetie," Cait said, then gave me a tight hug. "How was work?"

"Very nice, Cait. They've got me on some interesting tasks at the office."

"That's wonderful. Maybe you can tell me about those tasks over dinner? I just need to get my sore ass in the shower first, OK?"

I was never going to tell her about my "interesting tasks," but I was in a flirty mood, catching a contact high from her attitude. "Absolutely, your ass takes priority in this house."

"If only," she quipped, then reddened. I raised my eyebrows at her a little and smirked. She smiled and, figuring saying anything more would only make her blush further, headed upstairs. With perhaps a little added wiggle in her step, her yoga pants riding high up her narrow, fit ass.

I didn't detect the smell of weed in the living room, and given what I'd witnessed a couple days earlier I figured she was smoking in the bedroom. But when I opened the door to the basement to bring up some sodas, I caught a strong whiff of her pot. I guess Cait wanted to reduce the distance between her workout and a buzz.

On a shelf near the workout equipment there was a small box labeled "Workout aids." I imagined index cards with routines or something. But when I opened it, I saw multiple baggies full of weed. And an array of pot pipes. If Jill needed coaxing, and if the weed was as much of a turn-on as it seemed to be, maybe it would help. I snagged one of the baggies and a pipe, putting them in my pocket and secreting them in my work bag before Cait finished showering.

After dinner---Cait had dressed in a similar outfit to her workout clothes, but she was fresher, and less buzzed---she joined me on the couch to watch TV for a little bit. Some buzzy TV show that people would forget they couldn't stop talking about six months from now. About halfway through the episode, Cait laughed at one of the lines, then began crying.

I paused the show. "Cait, are you OK?"

She said nothing for a while, just worked to keep her tears in. But then she blurted, "He's gone so much, Blake. I knew he worked a lot, but it's...I'm lonely."

She leaned her head against my shoulder. I drew my arm across her.

"I know he's your dad and I don't want you mad at him... I'm just his new little wifey... But sometimes... It's just, he's probably fucking his secretary."

"Don't say that, Cait. You don't know that."

Then, more soberly. "Why not? I was his secretary."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Blake?"

"Yes, Cait?"

"I'm sorry I said that. It's not fair. I don't want you picking sides. You're so sweet. Can you just....hold me for a little bit?"

I pulled her close to me and held her. The intense warmth of her body felt odd considering how thin she was. Her thigh was close to mine. For a moment I had a notion of pulling her on top of me. Having her straddle me. Kissing her. But I knew that in that moment what she needed was for me to be still, a person she could transfer some of her warmth to.

*

When I arrived at STS the next morning, Dawn told me that I was invited to go to Jill's house around noon so we could have our get-to-know-you session. We went about our business---guiding church mice and AA attendees. During a lull, Dawn asked me if I could move a box full of outdated hymnals to our storage room, where we kept the mail equipment, choir robes, and other stray materials.

"Keep them over by the Pitney-Bowes, hon," she said. "We send the ones we don't use to missions that need them. Just need to pack and stamp them."

I did as she said. "Anything else?"

"Nope, hon....actually, yes. Wait." Dawn walked up to me with an intent look in her eyes. She was wearing another of her low-cut dresses, this one black with a pattern of little strawberries on them. "I just wanted to say"---she was shy all of a sudden---"you're doing such a nice job here."

"Thank you, Dawn."

She put her hand on my chest. "A very nice job."

I put a hand on her hip, not sure how far yet to push.

"You're going to be so wonderful for Jill, sweetheart."

"Thank you." I almost said dear.

"I know you can give her that baby."

I love you, I wanted to say. Instead, I sputtered, "I have a good boss."

She looked up at me. Her lips were glossy. "Am I good?"

I traced a finger across her cheek, down to her chin.

"You're good, Dawn."

Her hand drifted down between my legs. She cupped my hardening cock.

"I'm good?"

"So good."

I drew my hand down to her thigh and started to pull her skirt up. I wanted to finger her, make her cum. It was only fair. But she stopped me. "No baby. Just...let me be good to you."

She locked her eyes on me as once again she unzipped me and released my cock. Hard, yet again. I was aching for her and loved the feel of her warm fingers holding my cock, stroking me. "So good," she moaned, stroking me. "Cum for me," she said. "Come for momma."

Soon enough I did, angling my body so that none of the ropes of sticky cum that I shot landed on Dawn's pretty dress. Just all over the floor of the church's storage room. I'm sure I looked ridiculous, panting with my still-hard cock in the middle of the room, but I felt so pleasantly spent. I drew Dawn close to me and kissed her long and lovingly. She didn't resist, but also cut it shorter than I'd wanted. I was fully prepared to fuck Dawn silly. I needed to know more about this woman who could be so churchy and so wanton, who'd made me cum twice in 24 hours and wanted me to impregnate a parishioner.

"More later, sweetheart," she said, pecking my cheek. "You need to get ready for your visit. I liked that."

"Me too. Let me clean up."

"You sure, baby? Momma made that mess, after all."

"We both made it," I insisted. "And I can be a happy little helper too, you know."

*

Jill lived in a McMansion about ten minutes from the church. She opened the door smiling, dressed as if for a job interview. Pencil skirt hemmed at the knee, silk blouse buttoned up high, but making clear that she was busty. Gold necklace with a crucifix. Dirty-blonde, shoulder length hair, green eyes. Heels. I hadn't really had a chance to get a good look at her when she came to the church, and of course her face was puffy from crying. Now, she looked poised---dressed like a school principal, but giving off a hint of a sensual side.

"Please come in," she said, warmly, and guided me to a well-appointed sitting room just off the foyer. She invited me to sit next to her on a gray but modern sofa. I set down my bag, which contained the weed and pipe, in case the conversation needed some extra help.

"So," she said, primly setting her hands on her knees and looking at me. "This is a bit unusual, isn't it?"

I smiled. "A bit. But Dawn is pretty persuasive, isn't she?"

Jill brightened. "Goodness yes. I would never have dreamed of"---she searched for the right word---"this, if I didn't have her reassurance. She's been very kind to me."

"Me too," I said. I knew I couldn't just dive in---she wasn't giving off a sexually available vibe---so I asked her to talk a little more about herself. She said she'd been married for six years, after being what she called a "wild child" in her teens and early 20s. "Sex, drugs, and rock and roll," she said.

Not a lot of that in her now, I thought. A painting of Jesus hung prominently among family photos on a wall. "Got tired of it?" I asked.

"I got led down the wrong path. I needed Jesus. I was smoking weed every day, wasn't looking for work. I got pregnant by a man who ran off as soon as I told him. I miscarried, but it all made me think---what am I doing with my life? Then I met Bruce, and it's been fine. Except, you know."

"Miscarriage. I'm sorry. But you know that you can get pregnant. The problem isn't you."

She nodded, grateful that I understood at least one part of her frustration.

"Please don't think of me as a bad woman for considering this. I'm not backsliding. I'm being practical."

"I understand. Only God can judge."

"This just makes me anxious."

I paused for a moment, then made my move. "I have an idea about what might help with that," I said.

She looked at me, curiously. I opened my bag and took out the baggie of weed, held it up to her. Her eyes widened.

She whispered, even though the house was empty. "Pot?"

I nodded.

She sat up straighter, as if to prove her Christian resolve, but I could tell she was interested.

"It might just help us talk, get to know each other better," I said.

She nodded.

"Would you like to?"

She gave me the slightest of nods.

It had a been a little while for me since I'd smoked, and a long while for her, so we both had some adjusting to do. Jill asked some casual questions about my relationships and time in college, my living at home with my new stepmom. We passed the pipe back and forth a couple of times before it really hit me---the all-over buzz, my hardening cock, the pleasurable feeling that the planet was being kind enough to slow down for a while and let me just enjoy the company of this churchy, sexy woman. Soon enough, as her tastefully appointed sitting room filled with wisps of smoke, Jill began catching up to me.

"I don't know, maybe it's one of those things where you don't feel it as much as you get older. I just..." she said, then stopped cold. It hit her. She cracked a sideways smile and looked at me. "Oh. Good weed," she said.

I nodded.

She smiled for a long moment, then crept across the couch to me. Silently nuzzling against me, her breasts against my chest, she casually began running a hand up my thigh. Higher, up between my legs, where the weed and her attention had made my cock very hard. Any hesitation I had about getting Jill pregnant---of me being a biological father---was overwhelmed by Jill's catlike, sensual attention, and the anticipation of sliding inside her without a condom, then freely cumming deep inside her. Her craving was contagious.

"I didn't think I was going to...do things," she cooed. "But I want to suck you. I want to suck your cock." She wasn't asking permission---she'd begun to unbuckle me, seeking my cock.

"That won't get you pregnant," I whispered back.

"We have time. My husband is gone all week."

"Am I gonna fuck you all week, Jill?"

She just groaned, as if that was the loveliest idea she'd heard in a very long time. My cock was out and she was slowly, expertly licking and sucking the cockhead. The intensity of it all made me concerned for a moment that I'd lose control and wind up cumming in her mouth, over her face. It would have spoiled my purpose (though in our stoned state I don't think either of us would've minded too much). But I had it together enough to not let go, to just enjoy Jill's attentions. Whatever was going to make her feel good enough to have a near stranger be a surrogate, I was happy to do. The idea of Dawn's pride in me for being a happy helper made me all the more eager.

It didn't take too much longer after that. Any notion that either of us would wait a bit before fucking had vanished. Jill let me unzip and pull down her skirt, revealing that she wasn't wearing panties. ("Didn't think I'd need them," she giggled, taking another draw on the pipe.) She straddled me on the couch; the groan she made when my cock finally slipped inside her was delighted, bone-deep, that of a long-awaited award. I unbuttoned her blouse, undid her bra, and sucked on her nipples while she rode me slowly, her hips moving as if to draw as much of my cock into her as possible.

Eventually, though, she said that she knew it'd be best to "get preggo" if I was on top of her. She slickly slid off my cock and we stumbled to her bedroom. She lay down on one side of the bed, giggling, tits bouncing.

"Tell you a secret?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied, tugging on my cock, preparing myself to enter her again.

"This is my husband's side of the bed. You're fucking me on my husband's side."

"Do you like that I'm fucking you on his side?" I said, reinserting myself in her pussy.

"Yesssssssss," she sighed.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it's where daddy, belongs."

I kissed her hard, then fucked her on her husband's side of the bed, doing my best to redeem it from so many disappointments. She writhed with an intense orgasm, and soon after I came inside her. "Fuck yes, so deep," she moaned. "Thank you daddy."

You can never tell with these things, but everything felt so intense and pleasant and inevitable, I indulged the idea that I'd done my job perfectly here. That Jill was really and truly pregnant. She did too. "Fuck, sweetie, I think that was good enough for two." She smiled a grateful smile at me.

"God, I hope I made a baby in you."

She shuddered in pleasure, as if a warm blanket had been placed just right on her cool body. We held each other, my spent cock resting against her thigh, her pussy slick and sticky from all my attention.

*

We fucked once more for good measure, and I left her very nice home buzzed and spent. But the funny thing was that I was more excited about telling Dawn what had happened than learning whether I'd actually succeeded in my task. I wanted her to be proud of me---and perhaps a little jealous.

When I came in the next morning, she was eager for me to get her up to speed. Indeed, as soon as I walked in the office door, she sprung up to give me a hug and smiled up at me.

"There's my happy helper," she said. "Mission accomplished?"

I smiled, happy to see her. "I hope so."

Dawn hugged me tight. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "Jill is going to be so happy. I'm so happy!" She gave me a quick peck on the lips, which made it a little difficult to get my day started. Dawn was beaming at her desk, and a bit of that old anxiety welled up again. Did she like me for who I was, or just for what I was useful for?

She didn't pry for details, but throughout the day she kept asking questions that were kind of like prying. "Was Jill comfortable, hon?" "I'm sure you were gentleman enough not to run off, right?" So I decided to be a little bolder with Dawn. I asked her if she'd wanted kids herself.

She looked at me for a long moment, then her eyes started welling up. "Excuse me, hon," she said, then stepped out of the office.

Fuck.

I'd started organizing what few personal items I had around my desk, figuring I was going to be dismissed. Nice guy, but didn't work out, she'd tell the pastor. If Jill was pregnant, I'd played my most important role for STS anyway. If she wasn't, well, all the more reason for me to get kicked to the curb.

Dawn came back a few minutes later, a little red-eyed. I stood up slowly. "Dawn, I'm sorry. It was---"

"No, sweetheart. You're fine. You just...you just kind of got to the heart of it all."

"You divorced because he couldn't have children, or...?"

"He didn't want children." She slumped in her chair. I couldn't help but notice how sexily her body bounced even when she was upset. "He lied to me. Kept me on the pill for months and months, until we were 'ready.' When I suggested we were ready enough, he said he cared about his career and his freedom too much for kids. Well, fine, he's got himself that oh-so-important freedom now, doesn't he."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Dawn. Seriously. You've been very kind to me. I guess it's a subject that's been on my mind lately."

"Do you want kids? Of your own, I mean?"

I thought of how it felt to cum inside Jill, how complete it felt. It swept away everything else I was concerned about---career, where I lived, all of it. I had the overwhelming feeling of wanting to put my manliness to a purpose, to make a family, be a father.

"God, yes," I said.

Dawn scooted her chair across the office floor toward me. Her hands were out, reaching out for mine. "Sweetie, do you mind if I pray on you?"

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I liked Dawn's concern, and I craved her touch. We sat facing each other, holding hands, our thighs close.