The Conception Deception Ch. 03

I used one hand to help get in place, my tip sensing the warmth around her entrance. Working my way through her folds, I got settled in enough to let go. Putting my hand back on the bed, next to Claire, I looked at her and asked, "Ready?"

With her lips closed tight, she breathed in through her nose and nodded. I pushed in a little, then pulled back. Another push in, another pull back. Another small push and I was halfway in. Claire hadn't put much lube on- just enough to ease entry- and I was grateful for that. I pulled most of the way out and then looked at Claire's face. Her eyes were shut and her mouth still closed. I pushed firmly, slowly, all the way in, watching her. Claire's mouth opened in a silent cry as her back arched a little. I held still for a moment, noticing that she was tensed up.

"OK?" I asked softly, my voice a little strained.

"Mm-hmm," she replied with a nod. Her hands were still on my hips, and she began to guide me into a gentle rhythm. Each cycle of thrusting and pulling back took about 3-4 seconds, a very slow process. After a minute or two of that, Claire relaxed more, and her grip on my hips loosened a bit. She even slid her hands up to my lower back and over my butt cheeks a few times- light touches that I enjoyed.

Though in one sense, this was undeniably very basic sex, it felt completely unnatural. I couldn't put my mouth on hers. I could use my hands except to touch her legs, but that would be hard to do without putting all my weight on top of her. I couldn't see her chest at all. It might be sex, but it was an anemic version of sex. If I were in a relationship where making love was like this all the time, I would probably need to end the relationship- or get us some counseling.

Claire's breathing was synced to my thrusting- deep breath in through the nose when I pushed into her, slow exhale from the mouth as I pulled back. I sped up just a little, and her breathing sped up with me. I really wanted to touch her, and my hands gripped the sheets in frustration. I noticed Claire's head was almost up to the headboard of her bed- she was being pushed away by my thrusts.

"Claire..."

"Hmm?"

"I can't keep you from sliding up. You might need to find a way to...push back, or anchor yourself, or something."

She opened her eyes for the first time, twisting her head a bit and looking at the headboard.

"Oh! Right," she said, then wiggled her hands away from our bodies and put her palms on the headboard. She pushed away from it, causing her whole body to slide down the bed. This, of course, pushed her up against me, forcing my next thrust to go extra hard and deep rather suddenly.

"OH!" she cried, her eyes wide with surprise. The extra push made me feel a surge of desire, and I began speeding up. Claire kept her hands on the headboard, keeping herself from being driven back up the bed. Given my new speed and force, it was a good thing she did that. As I was clearly almost there, Claire started moving her hips a little, arching her back and raising her hips, pushing her clit up against me when possible. I heard her whimper and start to moan, but I was too close to stop. My hands slipped under the pillow beneath her head and pulled tight. While I technically wasn't touching her, that action had the effect of pulling her towards me by her shoulders, making it impossible for her to be pushed away by my last desperate lunges.

I groaned as I pushed hard, releasing at the deepest point. I held that position as long as I could, relaxing for a second, then pushing back in to finish depositing my load. As soon as I stopped twitching inside her, Claire pushed on my chest, urgently trying to get me off of her. I was worried for a second that she was upset, but as soon as she regained her mobility, she lunged to the nightstand and grabbed her vibrator.

I lay on my side, watching her in fascination as she turned on the device and put it directly above her exposed clit. I reached over to rub her thigh, and in a matter of seconds she was cumming- more intensely than she usually did on her first one. Her orgasm was still quiet, but the straining of her neck and the high pitched cries she gave off made it clear that quiet wasn't necessarily mild.

She turned off the vibrator and I listened as her rapid breathing gradually slowed. My hand on her thigh soon felt like an imposition, so I pulled it away and waited. A loud sigh signaled the end of our session, and Claire turned her head to look at me.

"Happy?" she asked.

"About as much as you seem to be," I said.

"Well, I wouldn't go by that standard, if I were you. A few minutes of euphoria in a sexual frenzy aren't exactly a foundation for happiness. This might just be the bright spot in an otherwise dim existence."

"Wow. I didn't mean to bring out the philosopher in you," I backpedaled.

"Sorry. I just...I don't want you to mistake an orgasm for life satisfaction. It's a physical response, chemicals in the brain and nerve endings working overtime. But it's over quickly and you have to go back to who and what you were before that brief moment."

"Claire, do you want to talk about it? Are you OK?"

She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was a smile of resignation. "No...it's fine. I just think a lot. Too much, sometimes. And I once dated a guy who just thought that as long as I could have an orgasm during sex, then everything must be OK- for me and for our relationship."

"That's...naïve," I said, trying to gauge if I subconsciously ever thought that about Morgan.

"Yeah, well it turned out he was just running from his own problems, too, and was trying to hide from them by constantly seeking sex. We didn't last long."

"Understandably," I muttered. I also noticed that she had managed to avoid answering my question. She had deftly diverted the topics to be about someone else. I wondered again if she really was OK with being alone, OK with the path she was choosing. While I was still thinking, Claire said, "I don't know how early you get up, but I think we could easily get in another couple episodes before you need to go."

Reaching for my pants, I said, "Fire it up!" She smiled and grabbed the remote.

*******

Before I left that night, Claire had told me that, even though we would be having sex the next night, she didn't want to kiss. "Still too personal," she said. "But your lips will be allowed to go anywhere below my neck, and so can your hands, so...I hope that's enough."

"It'll have to be," I said.

Sunday was my day off, and the rain continued for most of the morning. Needing to get out, I went to some batting cages after lunch. The rain had stopped in the late morning, and I knew there wouldn't be many people out yet. I texted Marco to see if he wanted to join me. He was busy helping one of his pro bono clients- a women's shelter a few blocks from the batting cages. He said he'd let me know when he was done, in case I was still there.

The batting cage was a bittersweet place for me. I had played baseball in high school and was good. Like, state home run records good. I managed a partial scholarship to college, which was rare in baseball. But during my junior year, I took a nasty fall while working on some trees. My left leg shattered, and it took over a year of surgeries and physical therapy to get it usable again. I was glad I hadn't banked on a baseball career, even though I had been headed in that direction. My major was practical and I had been doing fairly well in my classes. But the batting cage would always remind me of a life that could have been.

I still liked to hit. The crack of the bat, the whistle of the ball sailing through the air, the smell of the leather and the wood and the grass. I loved the feeling- the sting of my hands when I make contact with the ball. I could still handle some of the faster and trickier settings of the pitching machine. My dad used to say that I had special eyes- that I saw things in slow motion and knew where the ball would be.

This was one of those days when I just needed to hit. I would knock the balls away into the net, letting my mind wander. Sometimes I would work through a whole bushel of balls without realizing it, and meanwhile I had worked through a tricky problem from work or what to do about an argument with Morgan.

Sometimes I'd just hit slow pitches and think about my parents. I missed them a lot. Marco had told me on more than one occasion that he thought my desire for a family was a reaction to their absence from my life. He was probably right. Mom had moved back to Puerto Rico as soon as I started middle school in the States. I guess it was an unofficial divorce, but my parents were too Catholic to ever make it official or to call it that. Dad had raised me, but he died a few months before I met Morgan. Marco was right. I was so hurting for a family that I had just jumped into a relationship with Morgan, not really thinking it through or getting to know her.

"Uncle Russ! Uncle Russ!" I turned around to see Marco's two older boys gripping the fence and hollering to me. Becca stood behind them and waved. When I walked over, she said, "Marco told me you were here. Can the boys join you while I run some errands? Marco will pick them up."

"I don't know," I said with a smile. "If they stay, they have to take turns at bat..."

That just made the boys scramble to get inside the cage. Becca smiled and thanked me as she walked away, her little ones in tow. She must have been about seven or eight months pregnant, and yet she still managed to keep up with all the kids. An amazing woman.

The boys and I hit balls for another hour before Marco showed up. He told the boys they had to leave, but that they were welcome to try to talk me into coming over for the rest of the day. I was about to agree when I remembered that it was Sunday and that I was just biding my time until I could have sex with Claire that evening.

"Sorry boys, Uncle Russ has plans this evening," I said to a chorus of Awwww's. As the boys put their equipment away, Marco looked at me curiously and said, "What kind of plans would preempt..." He stopped when I raised my eyebrows. "Oooohhhh. Still...doing that, huh? OK then."

"Last time this month. Contractual obligation and all, you understand, right?"

"No contract I've ever put together," he muttered as the boys came running back.

We left the batting cages together in the mid-afternoon. Still needing to burn a few hours, I went grocery shopping, then headed home to make dinner. On my way back home, Claire texted, Anytime after 6 is fine. My cock swelled in anticipation.