The Pregnant MILF

A Husband's Regret a.k.a. The Pregnant MILF

A female-led marriage is a difficult thing to explain to people outside of that situation. Well, explaining is actually quite easy; getting people who live more conventional lives to understand is the difficult part.

So considered Gerald Townsend as he drove his pregnant wife Veronica home after their trip to the local hardware superstore, the back of their trailer full with heavy-duty timber.

From his point-of-view, why would anyone not want to be in a relationship like this? He was a self-made, successful and wealthy bachelor before he and Veronica had met and it was delightful to at last meet a woman who was so clearly on his level in every respect. Every woman from his past was either subpar in terms of either intelligence, ambition or independence. Then there were the transparent gold-diggers. He got all he could out of all of them and moved on before it got complicated.

Veronica, on the other hand, was highly ambitious, smart and plainly not after him for anything other than himself. They had met at a business convention and he found it refreshing that she had made the first move. Well, kind of. In fact, she had made the first move by telling him to ask her for dinner. There was a dry humour to her manner and he very much appreciated that Veronica cut straight through any bullshit.

It also helped that he was intensely attracted to her. Their chemistry was instant. She was a physically impressive woman -- 5'10" and curvy with a mane of curly strawberry-blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes. The fact that she had large breasts was obvious, but he was most attracted to how strong she looked. Until the moment he saw her, he assumed that his preference was for petite girls. But she fell into the physical category that he later discovered to be referred to on the Internet as "Thick: Athletic". As he was over 6 feet tall and a regular gym-goer himself, he had grown tired of the young girls he could throw around and liked the fact that she appeared to be more of a challenge. The other thing that turned him on about her was their age difference -- he'd never been with an older woman before and she was six years older than him, almost to the day.

After the convention and a relatively short period of long-distance dating, they both knew that this was a very rare connection that was working very well and decided to move in together. 'We can only try,' Veronica had said, 'If it doesn't work, we will chalk it up to experience and move on like adults: without bitterness or tribulation. If it does work, then we won't have wasted any precious time.' Gerald couldn't argue with this, especially as he was able to work from any location within his company and hers was undoubtedly a nicer house than his -- large, with a substantial garden, dual garage, basement and 12-person outdoor jacuzzi.

Female-Led Relationships, or FLR, was not a term Gerald had previously been familiar with. He had noticed that during their time together she had been the one to make most of the day-to-day decisions about the running of the home and the destinations for their weekends away. He largely agreed with her decisions so there was never any reason to debate them and the fact that she was happy to make decisions without consulting him meant that he could take a lot of the brainpower out of the hours when he wasn't at work. The tasks that she assigned him when he was at home were a pleasure to fulfil because she only asked him to do things that were reasonable and within his means to do. If something required an outside expert, she would employ the right person to do it -- generally of decent repute. A cowboy never stepped foot in their home.

It was during their time in the bedroom that she had first mentioned FLR. After an epic session of lovemaking during which he had brought her to orgasm several times, she said, 'I'm very happy for you to take charge here.'

Gerald had smiled, 'Only here?'

Her reply came with a very straight face, 'Yes. You're a man, Gerald, and I want you to be a man...in the bedroom. In the bedroom I need you. Outside the bedroom I like things how I like them. That's one of the reasons we work so well -- you also like things how I like them and I hate being challenged. But in the bedroom, I like you to take charge. I love what you do to me and how you make me feel. You're a creative and attentive and domineering lover and I really like that. So, let us say this: in the bedroom, you are in charge. Outside of the bedroom, I make the decisions about our life. I will consult you if I think I need to but most of the time I won't need to. Outside of the bedroom, this is a female-led relationship. What that means is pretty self-explanatory but I can give you some things to read if you need them. Do you agree?'

Gerald was somewhat surprised. He couldn't help but smirk.

Veronica's brow furrowed, 'Do you agree?'

'On one condition,' he said.

'Which condition?' she asked, concerned.

'That you agree to marry me.'

For the first time since he had known her (and possibly ever), Gerald saw tears in her eyes. It meant everything to him that he was the only one who could penetrate her defences.

One month later they had a combined wedding and honeymoon at a luxury resort in the Maldives. Veronica was now Mrs Veronica Townsend and, during the trip she also become pregnant. The most perfect woman he had ever met was going to be the mother to his son or daughter. Gerald worshipped his wife. Why wouldn't he? He considered himself to be an impressive individual and not only had she managed to tame him, she was effectively dominating him in every aspect of his life. In a way, it was even the case with sex -- he was only in charge in the bedroom because she allowed him to be! This was the way she had always lived her life and woe betide anybody who didn't meet her standards.

A case in point had just taken place in the hardware store where an overly casual 19-year-old shop assistant, with the name tag JACK, had tried to blag his way through selling Veronica and Gerald some overpriced materials that would have been wholly unsuitable for purpose. Gerald was aware, but this little runt was utterly oblivious, to the hole he was digging for himself. First of all, it had been Veronica who had asked for his assistance, but he then referred all his answers to Gerald. (This was a bad move.) Secondly, Veronica knew more about the timber she required than she was letting on. His third mistake was constantly calling a customer--who happened to be Veronica's husband--"mate", possibly in an attempt to demonstrate how, even though he had probably only been in the workforce for around a month, he was not a subordinate to anyone, including paying customers. Paying customers who he was trying to con.

Gerald just stood back and prepared to watch the fireworks. That's when a the branch manager walked past. Veronica calmly called him over and, without ever raising her voice, savaged the two men standing in front of her. By the time she had finished, the manager was promising to improve staff training and she had received a 15% discount for the materials that she should have been shown in the first place. Jack even wheeled the timber to the car and loaded it up for them with a face like a smacked arse.

He threw them a resentful glance as they laughed and got in their car.

-- -- -- -- --

The night before they had hosted their joint birthday barbecue -- Gerald was turning 32 and Veronica was turning 38. Friends and relatives ate and chatted and took advantage of the summer evening. As the evening wore on, many people headed home and the final eight slipped on bathing costumes and into the jacuzzi.

Veronica's friend Tilly, who was a regular guest at their home and who would have been more of Gerald's type in a past life, was a lot less reserved than Veronica. Tilly was the last to step into the jacuzzi, trying unsuccessfully not to spill her Chardonnay as she became distracted by Veronica's cleavage, 'Jesus, Vee! Could your tits get any bigger?'

Veronica ignored the comment. Dennis, a work friend of Gerald's, nodded.

'What are you nodding at, Dennis?' asked Veronica.

'I was just going to ask how far along in your pregnancy are you now?' said Dennis.

'I just reached the five-month mark.'

'Well, I think you're selfish,' said Tilly, 'taking up all the boob space with your dairy factory. Can't you share some with me?' she laughed then lowered her voice and asked, 'What are your neighbours like?'

'They're alright,' said Veronica, 'The Cotters. I don't talk to them much. A couple in their fifties--'

'Do they have a son?' asked Tilly.

'Yes. He's about 18 or 19. Bit of a nerdy looking--'

'Yep!' Tilly interrupted, 'Well, don't look now, but I think he's enjoying the sight of your guests in bikinis.'

Veronica and Gerald turned slowly to see her less-than-subtle young neighbour with the top half of his face peering from his first floor bedroom window, like some kind of Kilroy/Chad version of a Peeping Tom. Whilst the lights were off in his room, he obviously didn't realise how completely he was being illuminated by their outdoor lights and the curtain closest to him was shaking at a very suspicious tempo. Veronica's eyes met his and he comically dipped straight out of view.

The group in the jacuzzi laughed. 'Well, he probably wasn't looking at me!' said Tilly, topping up her wine, 'My tits are smaller than Dennis's!'

'What's your next conquest, Tilly?' asked one of the other guests. Tilly was known to be a local community socialite.

Tilly deflated, 'Don't ask me how, but I've somehow managed to get roped into helping out with the village fete!'

Veronica knew that her friend was always offering to help with things that were far from being within her field of expertise. 'What are you doing now?'

'I'm helping out with a medieval set-up at the fete and it's a nightmare!' said Tilly.

'Why?' asked Gerald.

'Well, I've got to organise costumes and milkmaids and a banquet for the kids and it's so much work! Then, just today, one of the suppliers left me in the lurch!'

'What do you mean?' asked Dennis.

'Well, it's medieval, right? So I need to get torture equipment,'

'Ah,' said Veronica, 'the well-known stalwarts of children's entertainment -- torture devices!'

'Yeah! They love all that Horrible Histories stuff. So I need stocks and pillories and all of that, so that people can be put in them and have their photo taken for a donation to the local charities. Only, one of the guys who said he can help me out with that, now says he can't. So I've only got one measly set of stocks that you stand up and stick you neck and wrists through.'

'What else do you need?' asked Veronica.

'At least one other thing!' said Tilly, 'I was thinking of some of those stocks you sit down and put your ankles in... It's amazing how easily pleased some people are.'

'Gerald can make you one of those,' said Veronica.

Gerald looked at his wife, surprised to be volunteered, but didn't argue.

'Ooh! Really?' said Tilly, 'I didn't know you were a dab-hand at carpentry!'

'By the look of his reaction just then, neither did he!' said Dennis, inspiring group laughter.

'Gerald can turn his hand to anything,' said Veronica, calmly shutting down the laughter. She looked to Gerald.

'Yeah, I'll do it. No problem,' said Gerald.

'And he'll make something better than just silly little ankle stocks,' Veronica added.

'Great!' said Tilly, 'You're a life-saver!'

As a result of this conversation, Gerald was now driving home with a trailer full of lumber.

'I'm still not 100% sure about this,' said Gerald.

'You'll be fine,' said Veronica. You've got the images I picked off the Internet to help you.

'Couldn't we get a proper carpenter to do it?'

'We could, but I already said you would do it, and I want to be proud to show off your work,' she said.

He caught her eye and felt inspired. He would do anything to please her. As they pulled into the front driveway, they saw the couple next door loading suitcases into their car. Greetings were exchanged.

'Off on holiday?' asked Gerald.

'That's right!' said Mrs Cotter, 'Two weeks of getting away from it all!'

'What's all that wood for?' asked Mr Cotter.

'Just a personal project,' said Gerald as he assisted Veronica from the car.

Mrs Cotter spied her belly, 'Ooh! Exciting! How long is it now?'

'Five months,' said Veronica, smiling politely as she headed for the front door. 'Enjoy your holiday!' As Gerald unlocked the door for her she muttered, 'Perhaps I should hang a sign round my neck, counting the days.' Gerald smiled and went back to the trailer.

'I'd help you, but we're running a bit late,' said Mr Cotter. 'If you need anything, ask our Charlie. He's too old to come with his mum and dad on holiday, apparently. And it'll do him good to get away from that bloody Playstation!'

'I should be fine, thanks,' said Gerald. They all waved goodbye and Gerald carried the first lot of wood into the basement.

'Wouldn't you be better off making it at ground level?' asked Veronica.

'I've been thinking about it,' said Gerald. 'The garage is full, I don't want to do it outside in case it gets wet. The way I'm going to make it means it can be taken in four parts and reassembled wherever it goes. Plus, I can hide it from you and give you the big reveal when it's done!'

'Very well,' said Veronica, 'Whatever will help you make the best product.'

-- -- -- -- --

One week and a lot of extra-curricular sawing and hammering later, Gerald escorted Veronica and Tilly into the basement. A tarpaulin covered the large object in the middle of the room.

'Ready?' asked Gerald.

'Yes!' said Tilly.

He pulled back the tarpaulin to reveal a work of art -- a long wooden bench with a leather seat and a sturdy, padded back beam to rest against. Leather wrist straps hung from a steel wire and a metal pulley positioned at the top of the beam. In front were some ankle stocks, again padded with leather. The whole thing had been varnished and lacquered.

Gerald looked to Veronica who had a proud look in her eyes.

'Wow!' said Tilly, circling the stocks. 'You did this in one week!? This is brilliant! Are you sure you'll be able to get it out the basement though?'

'Yeah,' said Gerald. 'There are some strong latches holding it all together. We'll carry it out in pieces.'

'Great... Where did the leather wrist straps come from, Gerald? Your own personal collection?'

'No. I got them online. But only the best,' he said.

'Ha! You put a padlock on the ankle stocks?'

'Yeah.'

'Thorough! And what are these for?' Tilly asked, touching some cleat hooks that were attached to the tops of the ankle stocks.

'I don't know,' said Gerald, 'I just followed what was in the pictures.'

As Tilly touched the ankle stocks they slid horizontally along bench, 'What the...? Why do these move?'

'Well, everyone is a different height. So, when your bum is in the seat, you might need to move these out or in, depending on how long their legs are.' He demonstrated that the ankle stocks had about 12 inches of movement along the lower end of the bench. 'And it can lock in place, wherever you want to put it. I've some a similar thing with the wrist straps.' He stepped behind the back support and turned a winch in both directions, lowering and raising the wrist straps.

'Well, aren't you a handy man to have around...?' said Tilly. 'Keep ahold of him, Vee, or I'll nab him!'

Gerald looked to his beautiful wife. She loved that her man had done himself proud.

'Brilliant!' said Tilly. 'This is well above and beyond what was needed! We might even be able to sell it afterwards! Okay, I've gotta dash! I'll see you at the fete!' She ran up the stairs and let herself out.

'She's always running around,' said Gerald.

Veronica said nothing. She just kept looking at him with understated appreciation. He stepped up to her and put his arms around her waist as far as he could, her pregnant belly now a definite obstacle.

She looked at the stocks. 'Maybe we could use those wrist straps in the bedroom sometime,' she said.

Gerald looked surprised, 'Oh, you like the idea of that, do you?' Veronica gave a look that indicated she was open to it. Gerald felt a swell of passion, 'Maybe we should go and talk about that...' and led her upstairs to the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, he gentle laid her on the four-poster super-king sized bed and slowly undressed her while asking her questions.

'Have you ever been tied down before?' he asked.

'Never,' she said.

'Why not?'

'It just never occurred to me. I never found a man who made me want to give up complete control.'

'And you want to lose complete control?'

'Yes, I do.'

'You've never told me this before.'

'Some things have to be discovered along the way,' she said. 'Just because we're married, doesn't mean we shouldn't surprise each other.'

'This is true,' he said, laying on the bed behind her and gently running a hand down her side. She wriggled and firmly grabbed his hand. 'Something wrong?'

'I just think I've hit another phase of pregnancy. All sensations are enhanced.'

'Oh, really?' he said, turning her onto her back and raising an eyebrow. She looked up at him, not knowing what he had in mind. 'In that case, we shouldn't waste the opportunity to see what happens if I do this...' With that, he moved to the lower end of the bed and performed long, lingering oral sex on her. Veronica could not have been more satisfied and, after he had made love to her, they fell into a very cozy and satisfied nap.

It was 10pm when they were awoken by loud, thumping music. It had been light when they fell asleep and now it was dark outside. 'What time is it?' asked Gerald.

'Too late for whatever that is,' replied Veronica as she got up and put on her nightgown.

Gerald walked over to the bedroom window. The house next door was in full-on rave mode, with a DJ, laser lights and around young adults drinking, dancing and splashing about in the swimming pool. 'I guess Charlie is taking advantage of his parents being away.'

'Not for long,' said Veronica, putting on some slippers.

'I'll go,' said Gerald.

'No. You make me a snack. I won't be long,' said Veronica. She went to the house next door and knocked. It was answered by a boy she didn't know. 'Where's Charlie?' she asked. The boy pointed through the house to the garden. Veronica walked through, gaining attention from everyone she passed. None of the attendees expected a tall, blonde pregnant lady in a silk nightgown and slippers to be making an appearance. In the garden, however, everyone was too busy shouting, dancing and jumping in the outdoor pool to notice. She could see Charlie at the far end of the garden with another boy she recognised from somewhere. They were flirting with a group of girls. Veronica stepped over to the DJ and spoke into his ear. The music immediately ceased.

Everyone looked round. Charlie walked over with his group in tow. Veronica could now place where she knew the other boy from -- it was Jack, the insolent assistant from the hardware superstore. 'What's going on?' said Charlie. Despite his efforts to dress for the occasion, he was unable to hide his nerdiness.

'Your music is too loud,' said Veronica.

'Oh, come on, Mrs Townsend!' said Charlie, 'It's only ten o'clock!'

'Yes. And I need to sleep. If you can't keep your party quiet, you will have to finish it.' She looked at Jack, who obviously recognised her and was still bitter. She held his eye until he looked at the ground.

'But it's my birthday,' said Charlie.

'Happy birthday. Now, keep it down, please,' said Veronica and she turned to leave.

'What if we don't?' said Jack.

'Shut up, Jack!' hissed Charlie. 'But actually, he's right. What if we don't? I don't care if you tell my parents! I'm not a kid!'