The Mbayo Clinic Ch. 01

It wasn't going to happen. I was tired. I was out of breath. And no closer to orgasm than I'd been when we started.

We could keep fucking like this, but I wasn't going to come and I didn't see any sign that she would, either. The sound of the bed squeaking and our bodies connecting filled our bedroom with a deafening lack of sound.

She knew it and I knew it, yet for some reason we kept at it. Pushing, pulling and sweating futilely until we both just lay there, breathing hard and staring at ceiling.

That was the exact moment. The point where a decision had to be made. We could give it up and go our separate ways or we could try something else. But whatever it was we were doing, we couldn't do whatever this was any longer.

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at my wife. Her staring at the ceiling as if someone was going to airdrop supplies. Or rescue her.

She was still beautiful. If anything, she was more beautiful than the girl I'd married ten years ago.

Audrey was now in her late thirties. The word most commonly used to describe her was striking. But to me, my wife's sleek look was best described by the word "expensive." Her dark hair was cropped in stylish, shorter cut with highlights that offset her pronounced high cheekbones. Her breeding exuded class and poise, even now, naked and straining beneath me.

Her lean frame was a yoga and pilates-toned torso, replete with firm muscle you could feel just under the surface. Her legs, which were always amazing, were now near perfect and led the eye towards her pert little ass cheeks.

Sure, there were little lines here and there. But her skin regimen, made up of countless expensive creams and lotions and make-up made it so you couldn't find them if you tried. And I wasn't trying to find faults or wrinkles. I was just trying to find the Audrey that still wanted me.

Finally, she rolled toward me with a sigh, her sea green eyes taking in my softening cock before raising them to meet my eyes. And that's when I knew what was different about Audrey. It was her eyes. The color was the same, maybe darker. But the playful and promising glint in them was long gone.

"Do you want to talk?" she said, with a tone that clearly implied that she did not. When had she become so guarded? When had I?

"Let's do it" I told her.

She raised an eyebrow incredulously. Slowly, carefully she said, "we just... tried."

She still could get a smile out of me. Even then. I took it as a good sign. I let a big breath. "No. That's not what I meant. Let's go see this lady. Mbayo. Let's do whatever it takes. Voodoo. Chickens. Herbs. Incense. Whatever. I'll do it."

A light came on somewhere inside of her. A small flow of tears began to leak out of her eye and she wiped it, distractedly. "Do you mean it, William?" She bit her lip and began again. "If we're going to do this, I want you to commit to it."

I nodded. This wasn't enough for her. She reached forward, grabbing my cock firmly. Her emerald eyes shot me another questioning glance, letting me know the price she was willing to pay. I felt myself stiffen in her grasp. "I will. I'll do whatever this Mbayo woman says."

Trying to have a baby had been . Honestly, it was killing us. We're certainly not the first couple to have trouble conceiving. And we wouldn't have been the first to split up over it, either. But for Audrey it had become an obsession and for myself, it had become something I didn't even want to think about.

It had been going on this way for years now. The harder we tried the more she wanted it and the more I wanted to give up. And the more we began to resent each other. And the more the joy left our bedroom.

As a clinical scientist, I had access to some of the best doctors and fertility clinics in the region, but none of them did any good. We were what was called a double risk infertility. My sperm count was abysmal and her ovaries the same. But there were exercises and pills. Timing ovulation. Supplements. Viagra. And when those didn't work there was in vitro, which resulted in a miscarriage and left us in even more pain with a side helping of financial trouble.

After the heartbreak of the miscarriage, I began to talk adoption. Audrey wouldn't listen. Her view was that she would adopt, but she wanted this baby to be hers. And nothing would stop her. She began to work out obsessively and threw herself into her work. It was as if she believed that she could outperform this problem.

At first, it was amazing watching her transformation. She had always been soft and curvy, but the years had added a few pounds here and there. Not anymore. Six days a week at the gym, sometimes twice a day and zero carb diets began to tone her and harden her into an amazon. I still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but there was so much pain and determination in that lean new body of hers that it was hard to find the lust I was supposed to feel for it.

She began to push harder for more sex, but the joy was gone. Each climax was another one that failed to provide what she wanted so desperately. Each one a symbol of my failure as her partner. Each one another crushing blow to my own sense of worth.

That's when she began to pull away. The workouts became more fervent. More rigorous. She never said it, but I believe she was trying to fix herself in some way. Become so healthy that pregnancy couldn't possibly be denied her.

She began taking hormonal supplements she purchased from the health food store. When those were deemed too weak, she began buying in bulk on the internet. She dragged me into each of these homeopathic cures. Fish oil. Roots. Tinctures. Salves. All berry diets. Egg and fish only protein diets. Cleanses. Tantric sex. Crystals. Meditation. A "Fertility Cruise and Resort" package. She knew that, as a scientist, I didn't believe in any of it. And that was another thing she blamed me for.

Before my only way to stop it was too make myself too busy. As she began taking up residence in the gym, I began letting myself go. Adding pounds I didn't need. I took up smoking again. Quit. Started again. Found bars to go hang out in, found excuses not to come home to whatever regime was being enforced that month.

Audrey had an affair with her trainer. She only told me after I confessed that I'd begun having feelings for a woman at work. In one terrible evening, we both put it all out there. She'd used him to try and get pregnant, but failed. Now the shame was too much. I confessed that I'd allowed myself to become infatuated in by an attractive young woman at work who clearly was looking to earn a quick promotion.

We considered separating. But we didn't. Maybe it was harder than imagining being alone. Or maybe we just weren't done with each other. Things got better for awhile and we both put the topic of children away for awhile. But it was hard, watching our friends and family conceive with ease. Before long, Audrey was making subtle and not-so-subtle hints about new methods she'd heard about.

The latest was some woman. A fertility specialist a few hours away, who some claimed was a priestess from Africa. No medical degree. No insurance coverage. Just some lady that a friend of a friend raved about. One who could work miracles when regular science failed. Her name was Adele Mbayo.

As I already mentioned, I have a clinical background. I'd pulled every favor I could to get us the best clinics in our region. I'd tried to find studies for new breakthrough medicines. For months and months I'd tried to humor these "miracle cures" that had nothing to do with actual science.

I drew the line at Adele Mbayo. I wasn't going to submit myself to further embarrassment at the hands of quacks. Audrey took it well, considering. We were trying to make things work. But I wasn't going to give in. Enough was enough.

And then, of course, I gave in.

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Almost as soon as I said I'd see Adele Mbayo, Audrey's hands were dexterously manipulating my dick. And as always, she knew exactly what to do with it.

Audrey kissed me then. The force of it surprised me. She came at me harder than we'd kissed in years. Our lips mashed together. Our teeth clicked off each other. Her tongue was hot in my mouth and it probed me, testing my honesty. Checking to see if I really meant what I'd said. Extracting a promise to go through with it. My cock grew ever harder in her tantalizing grip.

She broke the kiss abruptly. "I swear to God, William. If this doesn't work, I'll let it go. But you can't be the skeptic anymore. I have to know you mean it. I don't want to hear the word 'voodoo.' You have to do whatever Adele says. I have to know we tried... everything." Her hand was now fully jacking my cock in slow strokes from the tip down to my balls and dragging back up again. "Can you do that?"

I swallowed and looked for the answer in my head. "I can do that." She kissed me again. I pulled apart, breathing harder now, my nose and forehead against hers. I watched her hand bobbing over my throbbing shaft.

"I can do it for you" I whispered.

Audrey swung one of her long, impossibly toned legs over mine. She buried her head in my shoulder as she expertly lowered herself onto me. It was different than it had been just a few minutes before. Everything was different now. All it had taken was a few simple words. One solitary commitment.

And now she was riding me. A glowing look of confidence on her face as she slowly churned her hips, rocking her soft hairless lips over my crotch, my cock inside her and as hard as it had ever been.

For the first time in so very, very long, we were fucking. We weren't going through the motions. We weren't pretending. Most importantly, we weren't trying to conceive.

No, we were just fucking. Really, she was fucking me. Her back arched and her pubic bone pressed into me hard. Her head lolled back as she ran her fingers down her long neck and across her collarbone. Her hand flattened as her palm grazed over her thick, excited nipples, down her flat stomach, her manicured fingers aiming ever downward until she reached her wet clit and began to massage it.

It was too much for me. Watching her like this. Seeing her abandonment, her wantonness.

"Oh god, Audrey, I'm going to come. Slow down."

She didn't even open her eyes. "Go ahead, William. Come. Come inside me. Fuck me. Until. You. Fucking. Come."

I wanted to sit up, grab her neck and kiss her again. I wanted to take control. Flip her over. Change positions. Eat her until she begged me to fuck her again.

That's what I would've done. Before things got bad.

But I wasn't going to mess this up. We'd been too long without a single decent fuck. Me doing something like that... who knew how it would go over? I wasn't about to find out.

Instead I tried to hold on. But the sound of slapping of her skin on mine, faster and faster made it almost impossible. My eyes kept wandering up her body, seeing the distended, aching tips of her breasts—god, those nipples—she'd always had those amazingly thick fucking nipples. Her wet lips pursed open in a silent moan, her eyes closed as she focused all of her attention on what her tight, slippery pussy was feeling. She told me once that she could feel every inch of my cock. Every vein, every pulse, every throb. Her voice from years ago, now a smoky whisper in my ear, driving me closer to the edge of orgasm.

I wasn't going to make it. Her fingers were dancing over her pussy, occasionally brushing against my shaft. Her other hand was planted squarely in my chest, her elbow occasionally shuttering with tension or exhaustion or both.

She'd told me to come. She'd given me permission. And it had been so fucking long. Oh god it had been so long.

My cock began to empty itself inside her, my come lurching out of me in desperate spasms. Audrey kept working her hand over herself, but she began to slow as I finished coming. She leaned over me again, giving me small kisses across my face, her breathing ragged.

"Aud, I can... help you get there. I can... um, go down-"

Her damp hair slid back and forth across my head as she shook it, her forehead pressed to mine. "No. I don't need that. And you don't want to taste it."

"I don't care. Let me."

"No, dear." Audrey rolled over again onto her pillow. But this time she grabbed her thighs and lifted them toward her chest, careful not to let any of my seed spill out of her.

I tried not to look disappointed. I don't know why I'd told myself that things were different. Had I let myself believe that for once we were just fucking like we used to? Of course I was. I'm an idiot. I was still a sperm donor. A failure of a sperm donor.

She returned my gaze levelly. "You never know, William." I sighed and nodded. I let my feet dangle from the edge of the bed, willing myself to rise. As I walked toward the bathroom, I heard Audrey's voice. Not the carefree Audrey I'd been so crazy about. Not the one I'd imagined was bouncing on my dick just a minute ago. No, this was the same Audrey I'd been living with for the last two years. The one with only one objective. One impossible objective.

This new Audrey's voice was resolute. "I'm going to call her in the morning and see how soon we can get an appointment." She paused, letting that sink in. Then, she continued, "You made me a promise."

I looked at myself in the mirror as I closed the bathroom door. She was right. But what had I promised? To humor her? Myself? Or had I just agreed to get rid of the last thing that I thought might keep her with me?

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Adele Mbayo's office was nicer than I'd expected. Of course, I'd been expecting a seedy environment probably best suited to a fortune teller. Instead it was clean and sparse. Not quite medical sterility, but reassuringly well kept and comfortable.

The receptionist who had asked us to wait was quite possibly the most beautiful black woman I'd ever seen. High cheekbones, full lips and light brown eyes that smiled at you like a lost lover. She was willowy and tall and spoke with a light accent that I assumed was African. She wore a brightly colored wrap on her head and her skin was incredibly dark and flawless beneath a sharp business skirt and blouse.

The questionnaire was mainly boilerplate health and physical information. I knew from experience that the invasive questions would likely come later, once we were behind closed doors with the doctor. Or specialist. Or whatever Mbayo called herself.

After a few minutes, the receptionist asked us to follow her to a room. As we followed her, I once again admired her form. I didn't make a show of it, but quite frankly, her ass was a thing to be marveled at. Her well tailored skirt clung to it, barely containing its curves.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Audrey raise an eyebrow at me, probably in reference my ogling. I made a face back at her. We both smiled. She knew I was here for her. Or at least I hoped so. Either way, she was in a sunny mood now that we were finally here and my staring at a hot derriere was going to ruin it.

We sat in a small, comfortable room in two chair. Surprisingly, the receptionist sat down across from us and began looking through our paperwork. She looked up, smiled again and said, "Tell me why you've come to see us."

Audrey and I exchanged a glance. Audrey spoke. "Oh, are you Dr. Mbayo?"

The black woman shook her head. "No Mrs. Jones. I am Grace. I work with Ms. Mbayo."

I noted the emphasis on "Ms." instead of Audrey's "Dr." Of course she wasn't a doctor. But I was impressed that she hadn't continued the misnomer. A lot of unaccredited "healers" would've been happy to let a client think they are doctors.

Grace continued in her melodic, accented tone. "Truthfully, I am Ms. Mbayo's daughter. I've been working with her since we moved here. But my role here is a professional one, an essential part of our process."

I spoke up. "Where exactly are you from?" I realized it had come out somewhat accusingly. I hastily added, "I really like your accent."

Grace didn't miss a beat. "My mother and I are from West Africa. From a small village outside Mali. We moved here when I was just a teenager. In our home, the fertility rate is high. But the infant mortality rate is also high. My mother, she wanted to go somewhere where her skills could do more good. Now that we are here, we have found that what we offer is unique to Western medicine. The ways that our people have used for hundreds of years offer something that fertility clinics here do not. And we have been very successful."

I desperately wanted to ask how successful. Or what she knew about Western medicine. But I held back. Just by looking around, it was clearly that whatever they were doing was making money. I felt a small glimmer of something begin to flutter inside me. It wasn't hope exactly, but I was happy to have been so wrong about what I'd projected Mbayo's clinic to be like.

Audrey spoke for me. "My husband and I have been trying to conceive. We want your help." Audrey continued laying out our history and our case while Grace Mbayo made notes. After a few minutes, another woman entered the room.

It had to be Adele Mbayo. She had a definite presence that was hard to ignore. Shorter than her daughter, she was an older woman, possibly in her forties, but it was impossible to tell. Her body was heavyset, but in all the right ways. It was that of a fertility goddess statue, rendered in human flesh. Her breasts were triumphant orbs that defied description, even through her clothing. Heavy, powerful magnets that drew my eyes toward them and caused my mind to imagine how they would feel pressed against my face, rubbing along my chest, surrounding my penis.

She wore a bright patterned flowy dress with a deep cut that revealed miles that of deep, inviting cleavage. Her skin was dark, near ebony itself, but as smooth as clear as her daughter's. She smiled at us both, revealing perfect white teeth and gave the effect of pure sunlight on an African savannah. As she moved towards an empty chair, I noticed her thick, womanly curves gave her hips a natural sway and jiggle that mesmerized me.

Her voice was rich and her accent was also unmistakably African. I watched her full lips move, noting the pearlescent shine to them and when she bent forward to look at the paperwork that Grace had filled out, my eyes were lost once again in the landscape of her magnificent breasts in her plunging neckline.

Somewhere in the back of my brain I registered her voice. "Hello. I am Adele Mbayo. It is lovely to have you both here, Mr. and Mrs. Jones." I glanced over to my wife and saw a longing in her eyes as she stared at Adele. Was she expecting a miracle? A spell? Or was she also similarly affected by Ms. Mbayo's lush curves and abundantly displayed femininity? I saw in Mbayo, everything that my wife wanted for herself. A body naturally made to bear children. An innate mother's calm and nuturing spirit.

My heart broke a little for Audrey at that moment. As it had a million times in the last few years.

"You've seen quite a few specialists. I have only a few questions for you both." She looked at each of us, levelly but warmly. "I can tell you've been through a lot. I don't know if what we do here can work for you, but I'm willing to do everything I can to give you the child you want. Which of you is infertile?"

Audrey and I looked at each other. This was the part we'd been dreading, the part we dreaded every time we walked into one of these consultations. I spoke, sparing Audrey the uncomfort. "We both are. Well, that is we are both designated as low possibility candidates for pregnancy. My sperm count is low and the quality is poor. Audrey has difficulty with ovulation and her egg production is irregular."

Adele nodded solemnly. Grace reached out a hand and placed it on Audrey's own, to reassure her. My wife wiped her eye distractedly. Adele spoke again. "I expected as much. People who tend to find me are at the end of traditional medicine's capabilities. Or they are people who have long ago rejected western ideals for health." She studied us both again for a moment and then spoke again. "What the other doctors have told you is true. That doesn't make it impossible. At least not to us. But there is one more question to be answered, one that is more important to us than all the doctor's charts in the world."