The 19-year-old Virgin Ch. 17

I felt the jostling of the bed, her getting back in, as I started to wake up.

"Well," she said, "at least you didn't sneak out in the middle of the night."

I laughed, kissed her, and rolled out of bed.

"Hold that thought," I said, heading into the bathroom. I peed, washed my hands, found her toothbrush and brushed my teeth, washed my face quickly, and went back to bed.

I kissed her belly button and then made a circle of kisses around the circumference of that enormous belly. "Good morning, little one," I said, patting where I had just kissed.

Then I crawled up to kiss her lips, a nice, gentle, good morning kiss.

"Good morning, Mommy," I said and she giggled.

"Not yet," she said, her hand tracing the shape of her belly.

She looked at me then, suddenly serious.

"David," she said, "thank you for last night. You did your duty well."

It was my turn to laugh.

"Are you kicking me out?" I asked.

"Well, I just figured...." she started and trailed off.

I scooted around so I was on my knees beside her and captured her hands in mine.

"Chelsea," I said, being serious to match her, "I understood the deal to be a week, with renewal at your option. Are you breaking the deal?"

"David, I...." she started again but I talked over her.

"Are you breaking the deal?" I asked again.

"I just..." she started but I stopped her.

I leaned down and kissed her cheek, very light butterfly kisses, until I got to her ear and whispered, "Please don't break the deal."

"Oh, God," she sort of sigh/moaned, "you mean it?"

I kissed my way across her eyelids in the same way, very light kisses, and in the other ear I breathed, "Please."

I thought the tears that overflowed from her eyes were adorable and sexy and I tasted salt as I kissed her temples.

"You'll stay with me?" she asked, and this time I didn't stop her.

"If you'll have me," I said, my palms on her cheeks, my eyes holding hers.

"Oh, shit, now you've done it," she said, giggling and then laughing as she pulled me into a long, real kiss.

I held that kiss, chasing her mouth with mine as she turned her head, while my hand brushed down the roundness of her belly to find her beyond wet, she was slick, between her legs.

I held that kiss as I slowly masturbated her.

I held that kiss through her first orgasm and then the relaxation that followed.

I held that kiss as I felt a gush of wetness and she suddenly pushed me away.

"Oh, shit," she said, her eyes big and if I had to put a word to the look on her face, "frightened."

"Oh, shit," she said again, her eyes big looking into mine, "I think my water just broke."

I, of course, had absolutely no idea what she meant but when I leaned back, getting up onto my knees, I could see the sheet soaked. It looked like she had wet the bed.

Suddenly she grabbed my hand and squeezed, her eyes closing tightly, her forehead lined.

"Okay," she said after a few seconds, "last chance, David. You can go and I'll handle this."

"What?" I asked, showing my ignorance.

"I'm going to have this baby, honey," she said, smiling a big-eyed frightened smile.

And I knew, without any doubt, that I was staying.

"You mean we're going to have a baby," I said.

She giggled, a little hysterically I thought, and said, "Best seven hundred twenty dollars I ever spent."

She rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"Strip the sheets, honey," she said, "there are fresh in the bottom drawer."

So I stripped the sheets and turned the fluffy feather cover she had on the mattress and looked around. I laughed softly and said, to myself, "Sure, the bottom drawer. Of WHICH chest?" There were three.

I found sheets on my second try and made the bed, fitted sheet, flat sheet, and spread.

When I heard the water running in the shower I went into the bathroom and joined her.

She looked positively beautiful, standing there, her belly so big, her breasts so full, but mostly it was that smile on her face. She was happy.

I washed her face, shampooed her hair, and then washed her body. As I was finishing her back she suddenly bent over and hissed.

The contraction passed quickly and she turned, that happy smile so pretty.

I dried her with one of her oversized, very fluffy bath towels.

"You are beautiful," I said as I finished toweling her hair.

"Thank you, baby," she said, grunting and bending at the waist.

"Can you cook?" she asked.

The non sequitur took me by surprise and I said something witty like, "Huh?"

She giggled.

"Can you cook?" she asked again, "I'm starving."

"Oh," I said, "I can get around a kitchen."

"Good," she said, "make us some breakfast while I call the midwife."

"Midwife?" I asked.

She laughed again.

"Yes, David, the midwife," she said, "this will be my only baby and I want the whole experience."

I stood, I guess a bit dumbfounded, and realized that was the first time that word applied to something in my experience.

"SCAT!" she said, slapping my ass lightly, "I'm HUNGRY!"

So I went, naked, into the kitchen. I figured out her fancy Bunn coffee maker and got the coffee going and then looked into the refrigerator to see what I had to work with. I'm a fair hand in the kitchen, and she had a pretty well-equipped kitchen.

I got eggs and bacon out, found the toaster, a high-end four-slice number, and poured two glasses of orange juice. Then I found a frying pan, started warming it for the bacon, broke six eggs into a bowl added a splash of milk, and started mixing it with a fork.

I found her apron and laughed as I looped it over my head, ruffles, frills, and all, and tied it in the back. Bacon pops you know.

The bacon was frying and coffee was on the table, I had found the cups, when she came into the kitchen and sat, ponderously, at the table.

"Well," she said, sipping at the coffee, "Irene, my midwife, says she'll be here in a couple of hours." She giggled. "No need to hurry at this point she said."

She smiled up at me as I topped off her coffee cup.

"Are you sure about this, David," she asked me.

"Yep," I said, smiling, knowing I was. Hell, this was an adventure for me.

"How intimate are you prepared to get?" she asked, looking at me over the rim of the coffee cup.

"Wellllll," I said over my shoulder, working on the eggs in the pan, "let's see. We've had sex, I've nursed at your breast, and now we're eating breakfast naked together. I'd say pretty intimate."

"Good," she said, her eyes dropping and her voice very soft, almost inaudible, "because after we get done with breakfast I need you to give me an enema."

I thought for a second and said, "Oh, shit," at which we both burst out laughing.

The eggs were ready then so I dished up eggs, bacon, and toast, setting the plate before her with a flourish.

We ate in an odd companionship. We would break into chuckles and laughs and then be serious for a while.

At one point she hissed sharply and bent over doing that whistling rapid breathing I associate with Lamaze classes.

"Well, that's not too bad," she said, returning to her bacon and eggs.

We finished breakfast and then, in a surreal scene, I washed dishes while she dried and put them away, both of us naked, and her stopping once during the process for another contraction and that weird breathing.

Finally done she looked at me, almost shyly, and said, "Okay, buster, you said you're in. Come on."

In the bathroom she went to the linen closet and came out with an enema bag, the red hose ending in a white, slightly bulb-shaped, syringe, something I later learned was really a douche syringe. She showed me how to prepare it, just a few drops of hand soap, and then fill the bag with warm water.

As I finished preparing the enema bag, she got an old quilt, folded it into quarters, and laid it on the floor in front of the toilet.

"You know," I said, as I hung the bag where she indicated, "this is distinctly NOT how I pictured this day going."

She smiled, kissed me, and got to her knees on the folded quilt. As I watched, she slowly bent forward until her elbows touched the quilt, and she laid her cheek on her crossed forearms.

"You've done this before," I observed.

She giggled softly and said, "Before he walked out, my husband and I had an active and, well, let's say, interesting sex life. He liked to experiment and I had trouble saying 'no' to him."

Suddenly she hissed and started that weird whistling breathing.

I went to the bathroom vanity, looked through the drawers, and found what I expected, a jar of Vaseline. As she finished her breathing thing I dipped the douche syringe into the Vaseline and then used my left thumb and forefinger to part her cheeks.

This marked the third woman's asshole I had ever seen, and it struck me suddenly how different they were. Carla's had been a very smooth circle of skin with a tiny puckered opening in the middle. Valerie's was a darkly stained wrinkled opening. With Chelsea, I was looking at a distinct circle of raised muscle, making me wonder about words like hemorrhoids.

Which is not to say it wasn't interesting. I liked the way her body sort of clenched when I traced the raised circle with my fingertip.

The breathing stopped so I slipped the lubricated syringe in, interested in the way that ring of muscle contracted as the big end of the syringe penetrated.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "open the valve to the first click."

So I moved the little chrome clip to the first stop in the ratchet.

"Rub my back, baby," she said, so I started rubbing her back, my fingers finding the softness there interesting.

As the water slowly filled her and I rubbed her back her pussy was, well, right there.

"Is it weird," I asked, "that I want you, right now?"

She laughed and said, "No weirder than me wanting you too."

So I fucked her. This wasn't something that could even be remotely called making love. I was rubbing her back and keeping track of the enema hose to make sure it didn't come loose and taking her from behind. It was pure sex.

I stopped once while another contraction had her doing that weird breathing thing and her body clenched around me, tightening almost painfully. Something about it got to me and my control failed far too quickly.

By then the enema bag was empty.

"Fill it again, honey, I want to be nice and clean," she said, looking oddly comfortable in that odd position, her back arched, her ass sticking straight up in the air, the douche hose emerging from her asshole, and leaking semen down her thighs.

I filled the bag again, warm water with a few drops of delicate hand soap, and went back to her.

She was so relaxed I thought at first she had actually fallen asleep but she giggled and said "I thought you had bailed out on me."

"I'm fascinated now," I said.

She giggled and said, "Well now, that's a compliment every girl wants to hear."

I laughed and said, "Be careful, I'm the guy controlling the hose up your ass."

She giggled again and said, "Fill 'er up, sweet cheeks."

I opened the valve wide open and she groaned.

"Too much?" I asked.

"I'm okay," she said, "rub my back please," and she went into the breathing thing again.

I glanced at the clock and said, "Ummmm, I haven't been using a stopwatch or anything, but you're about 10 minutes between contractions now."

The breathing returned to normal and she said, "We're okay. Irene will be here before long."

I kept rubbing her back until the bag was empty, I pulled the syringe and Chelsea said, "Help me up, baby."

I helped her to her feet and then she turned and sat on the toilet.

"You don't have to stay for this part sugar," she said.

I kissed her and said, "Unless you kick me out, I'm staying."

So I kissed her again, and gathered up the quilt on the floor along with the enema equipment and washed it while she took care of business.