The Campus Woman

I had to resolve the matter, and so, one night, just after we had finished making love, I told him about my marriage to Roy, and the lovers I had taken since Roy's death. I steeled myself for his revulsion and rejection. It did not come.

He was silent for a while, still nestling against my breasts, then he said very quietly, "I can't change the past, and neither can you, but if you love me now and are faithful, then know that I love you, and shall be faithful."

I hugged him to me and wept.

I tried to analyse my feeling towards Martin and ended up even more confused. There was this mixture of the desire to mother him and at the same time, to be his lover.

More time passed and we were still together. Feeling secure in his relationship with me, he began to stride forward in other areas of his life, especially his studies. As for me, a little thought began to eat away at me. About fourteen months into our life together I summoned up the courage and asked him. "Darling, would you make me pregnant?"

He did not even seem to weigh the question and simply said, "Yes, I would like to."

I stopped taking the contraceptive pills, and from then on, Martin and I made love with the intention of producing a baby.

My thoughts on this are, that there is nothing in human life more lovely than a man and a woman deliberately setting out to make a baby. Sexual intercourse seems to take on a new dimension. It has a sort of innocence about it, as if you are performing the act for just the purpose it was designed. When it is a matter of accident or rape, that is no doubt a different matter, but when two people come together in love for that purpose, it takes on a beauty other wise not experienced.

Although Martin had many times confessed his love for me, I had never properly expressed mine for him. Now, with the new dimension to our love making, the chains were struck off me. I could at last pour out my words of love.

It took almost three months for me to discover and announce to Martin that I was pregnant. His joy at this announcement moved me deeply, and more especially when he began to take on the male protective role. It was as if our roles were reversed. To begin with, I was the one who felt the mothering protective role towards him. Now he was there for me, taking over tasks he thought might tire me or harm the baby.

On the danger side, as it saw it, was the fact that he now began to talk of marriage. I did not want this, and had constantly to discourage him in this idea. "Darling, I'm years older than you, and what would your parents think? In any case, don't you think marriage is a bit old fashioned these days?" It did not deter him, and it began to distress him that the child might be born out of wedlock.

I refused to relent, and eventually our lovely Alicia was born.

Martin was by now engaged in post-graduate studies and seriously considering his future employment. He clearly loved little Alicia, but he had ceased asking me to marry him. Contrary creatures as we humans are, he had no sooner stopped asking, then I wanted him to ask so I could say "Yes."

I worried about why he had stopped asking. Had he just given up hope, or had he had second thoughts about my somewhat promiscuous past? He had certainly not ceased to want me sexually, and was if possible, even more considerate of my welfare. So where did we stand?

I had not gone back onto the pill, and so about ten months after the birth of Alicia I found I was pregnant again. I now felt myself to be in an impasse. If I told Martin, he might feel obliged to ask me to marry him. I did not want a marriage on that basis. I wanted him to marry me because it was me he wanted to marry, and not because of my pregnancy. What to do?

After careful consideration, I made my move. One night, just after we had finished our second sexual intercourse for that evening, I made my immodest move.

"Darling, will you marry me?"

He was in his favourite post-coital position with his head between my breasts. He said nothing, but began moves for a third penetration. His fingers found my opening which was saturated with his sperm and my lubricants from our previous coupling. His touch was very loving and I felt waves of desire sweep over me. God, I loved this man. He was my lover and also a beloved son.

He came into me and took me very slowly and as my orgasm began, he moved with me to suit my rhythm. It was after I had climaxed that he spurted his seed into me as I stroked and kissed his face and lips.

When he had emptied himself into me, and while he still lay inside me as his penis relaxed he said, "Yes."

For a moment, I did not connect his "yes" with my asking him to marry me. Then it struck home. In fact, that union we had just completed was his assent to our marriage. The "yes" was almost a superfluous addendum to his agreement in sensual action.

Now I had to tell him of my condition. How would he take it? Would he feel that I had trapped him into a responsibility he did not desire?

"Darling, we're going to have another baby."

"I love you, Cathy."

"Darling, you can't manage another one…you've only just…"

"Yes I can, my love."

He did.