The Water Baby

It was mid afternoon when Harold my husband spotted the ideal place to pull in. We had just passed a line of cliffs and coming to a bend in the river we saw the wide sandbar. We went to the upstream side of the bar where the water was deeper and took the houseboat into the bank. We ground onto the sandy bottom and went ashore to tie up.

The advantage of the place was that Harold wanted to try trolling along the face of cliffs, and the sandbar made an excellent swimming place with the added advantage of being very remote, therefore allowing us to swim nude which we customarily did on these river trips when sure there was no one to give offence to.

Harold and my son Frank, both keen fishermen, decided that they would go off trolling immediately in the small auxiliary boat. That left Peter and I on the boat.

Peter was my son’s friend, and it had been my suggestion that he come with us on this two week trip. His interest in fishing was minimal but he was a keen swimmer, and it was on this trip that he had his first ever experience of the freedom of nude bathing.

Harold and Frank lowered the auxiliary boat into the water, put in their fishing gear, and Frank started the little five horsepower motor. They puttered off down river to the cliffs, disappearing round the downstream side of the bend. Peter lowered the swimming ladder at the stern and we stripped off for our swim.

I shall make no pretence about what was intended. Ever since Frank had brought Peter to our house I had seen the look of yearning in his eyes. He was a magnificent male specimen and I was flattered by what to me was his obvious attraction to me. With his looks and physique he would have no trouble getting girls to copulate with, but he wanted me, a woman older than he.

Beyond being flattered I wanted him. If I have any justification it is that Harold is fifteen years older than I am, and his interest in sex had diminished almost to vanishing point. I had never sought consolation with a lover as many women do, but when youth beckoned I thought, “Why not?” The problem was the opportunity to make a beginning.

The reason I had urged Frank to invite Peter was that if ever a beginning was to be made, opportunity was most likely to arise on the houseboat trip. We had been out on the boat for three days, and if I needed reassurance of Peter’s hunger for me, I got it in the erections I witnessed when he saw me naked during our swimming times. Fortunately neither Harold nor Frank were keen swimmers and they did not witness mighty tower that was Peter’s erect penis.

My own need was aggravated by the sight of his erect penis. The only adult male sex organs I had seen up to that point, was Harold’s and Frank’s when he had occasionally swum naked in the past. Their shafts seemed to be about the same size, so when I saw Peter’s exposed it came as a surprise; I might even say, a shock.

It looked to be about two inches longer than and nearly twice as thick as Harold’s and Frank’s. I know women say “Size doesn’t matter,” but the sight of Peter’s magnificent male organ with its light brown shaft and large purple head had my nipples hardening and my vagina lubricating in seconds.

Now, even as we prepared to go into the water Peter was hard and I was ready for him. We watched the little boat disappear round the bend and then made our way down the ladder into the water. It was as I’d prayed it would be, no more than breast high for me and little more than waist high for Peter.

I had always had the idea that Peter would never initiate love making between us, and I was determined that I would take the first step. Once in the water I began to splash and play around with him, letting him feel my body against him, especially my breasts. The sexual tension in him became obvious as he began to shake. I wound my legs round his waist and slowly lowered myself onto his shaft, in the end guiding it into me with my hand saying, “It’s all right Peter.”

As he felt himself enter me he gave a low moan. Buoyed up by the water my weight on him was negligible, and I let myself drop down on him until his full length was in me, pressing up against the top of my tunnel. It was beautiful, and as I gripped him with my vaginal muscle he groaned, “Oh, my God, Alice.”

I hung there for a while, impaled upon him, enjoying the magnificent shaft filling my vagina, and letting him experience the warmth of my depths. Then he began to lift me up and down on him, gasping with every fresh clench of my vagina, as I whimpered my desire for him.

I felt it coming as if from a long way off. I hung for a moment between fear of the anguish I should experience and the joy of the delicious agony. Little shocks waves, increasing in intensity, rippled though me. Peter was moving me faster, then as the full force of my orgasm struck, he gave a loud cry, and clasping me to him forced me down fiercely onto him and he shot his hot young semen into me.

I screamed with agonised delight as the torment washed over me in wave after wave. Here, in the midst of wild nature, for the first time in years I was in the grasp of the primeval desire to procreate. I wanted the supreme fulfilment of carrying new life within me. I am not sure now whether I gave voice to my longing, but the words rang through my head, “Fertilise me…fertilise me…”

Certainly Peter seemed to be doing his best to fulfil my desire to be impregnated as he ejected sperm into me as if he would never stop. But stop he did, giving a gasping sigh, but still clasping me to him as the after shocks of my orgasm continued to shake me.

I had grown used to Harold when, on the far spaced occasions when he did deign to copulate with me, he would withdraw as soon as he had finished. He would get off the bed and leave the room to dispose of the condom he invariably used, then return to bed, and with his back to me, go to sleep.

Peter did not withdraw. I felt his penis slackening in me, but still he held me to him, his hands exploring my breasts, finger gently pressing my nipples. He raised my face and kissed me, deep and hungrily; then murmured, “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I know, my love,” I responded, “but you won’t have to wait so long again.”

Then what I had always deemed to be impossible began to happen. He had still not withdrawn from me, and I felt his penis hardening again. He began to move me up and down on his shaft, but this time very slowly, as if relishing every warm, moist centimetre of my vaginal tunnel.

Behind me was the pipe that ran round the boat to serve as a sort of bump bar. I took hold of it and let my body float upwards, so Peter was standing in front of me, thrusting in and out. I wanted it to go on for ever, but the moment arrived and once more groaning he ejaculated.

This time my feelings were different. I did not have an orgasm, but felt like a mother giving pleasure to her child – of giving comfort. When he signalled the end of his ejections with a gasping sigh, I even said the maternal words, “Does that feel better, darling.”

“Oh yes,” he murmured, “It’s wonderful with you.”

I was getting anxious about the return of Harold and Frank. I wasn’t sure how long they were likely to be. Normally we would hear the putter of the boat engine well before it arrived, but if we were in the throes of love making we might be too engrossed to notice.

“Darling, I think we’d better get dressed in case the others come back.”

“But I want to…”

“I know, my love, and so you shall another time.”

We clambered back onto the boat and dressed. I began to prepare the evening meal, aided officially by Peter, who proved more of a distraction because he was constantly kissing me, and his hands exploring me. The young devil got me so worked up, I took a chance and removing my panties I sat on the kitchen bench with my legs spread wide.

I had anticipated that he would take me standing up, but instead he knelt in front of me, and parting my labia, for a moment he gazed at my exposed inner lips, then bending forward thrust his tongue into me. The soft tongue licking and sucking almost sent out into space.

Suddenly he transferred his attention to my clitoris. I gave a scream and clutched his head to me, fearing he might stop as the shock waves racked me again. I was discharging great quantities of lubricant, and when I had finished and released him his face was soaked with my fluid.

I turned over on the bench with my feet of the floor, and I felt him press into me from behind, his hands cupping my breasts. I thrust back against him, hardly believing he could come again after his two previous discharges. Yet come he could, and as I picked up the note of the outboard engine he ejaculated.

I let him finish and the boat was almost alongside. I heard the bump as it touched and the voices of Harold and Frank. Peter pulled out and there was a flurry of dressing that was only just completed as Harold and Frank walked in through the stern door.

I was sure they must notice something as my face was red and my legs were shaking. We both must have reeked of sex and it seemed impossible that it would not be noticed. But Harold and Frank were, however, too intent on displaying their catch to notice the post-coital condition Peter and I were in.

Oddly, that night Harold decided he wanted to copulate with me. As usual it did nothing for me, especially as being with Peter had been like tasting the best wine, and with Harold it was like cheap plonk.

Once started with Peter the problem was, how we could go on. As we continued the cruise up river next day Peter and I were languishing for each other. Physically my own state of arousal could be concealed, but how the other two did not notice the perpetual lump in Peter’s shorts, I don’t know.

We did not pull up at a sandbar that day and Harold and Frank did not go trolling, but fished from the houseboat deck. Peter and I announced that we would swim to the other side of the river, and Harold simply grunted, “Be careful, there’s a strong current running out in the middle.”

He was right about the current and it carried us a little distance away from where we had aimed to land. When we reached the bank we clambered up and dropped out of sight of the houseboat.

I decided to return the compliment of the previous day and got Peter onto his back and took his penis into my mouth. He came quickly, his hands behind my head as he thrust his sperm into my mouth.

When he finished I decided to punish him, and saying, “I’ve tasted you, so now taste yourself,” and kissing him, I thrusting some of his sperm into his mouth. When I stopped he grinned up and me and said, “Just you wait until the next time I give you oral sex.”

“The do it now,” I teased, sitting stride his face and lowering my sex organ to his mouth. He certainly had his revenge because in the process of coming I saturated his face, and so I got to smell and taste myself when he kissed me afterwards.

We waited a while, and then Peter rolled me on my back and began fondling my breasts and sucking my nipples. He almost had me orgasming from this stimulation, but just as the shock waves started he came between my legs and penetrated.

Dear God, I loved him being in me. In the fantasy of the moment I imagined him always being there, always putting his young semen into me, and filling me up. At the height of my joy I wanted to scream, but feared the sound might be heard across the river so I stifled the cry and merely let out a soft whimper and began to weep with happiness.

Peter had his hands under my buttocks and I had wound my legs round him as we desperately struggled to get his huge manhood deep into me. I could feel the powerful eruptions of his sperm and once more the longing for impregnation overwhelmed me. This time I was less restrained and pleaded with him, “Make me pregnant darling…make me pregnant.”

When we had finished I was weak and shaking. “Peter, I don’t think I can make it across the river.”

“I’ll give them a shout,” Peter said, “get them to pick us up in the boat.”

He went to the bank and yelled across and shortly Frank came puttering across for us. On the way back he grinned at us and said, “You two disappeared for a long time, what have you been up to?”

Peter didn’t seem at all put out by this comment and said nothing in response. I, on other hand, felt a wave of panic and stammered out, “J-j-just r-r-resting, darling.”

Nothing further was said until later that evening when Frank and I were out of the back deck looking at the brilliant display of stars that you get along the river.

“Be careful, mum,” Frank said, “dad might start to notice something.”

“What do you mean, Frank?”

“Come on, mum, do you think I don’t know why you wanted Peter to come on this trip, and for that matter why Peter was so keen to come? You two have been hot for each other for ages, and Peter’s made no secret of how he feels about you.”

“You mean he told you…what has he said?”

“Mum, from the first time he saw you when I brought him home, he’s raved about you. It didn’t take a genius to work out what he wanted. And I could see the way you looked at him, as if you wanted to eat him. You’re just lucky dad is so unobservant, so wrapped up in his fishing and his other concerns.”

“You talk as if you don’t mind about Peter and me…you’re not disgusted that your mother and your friend are…?”

“Lovers? No, I knew it was going to happen some time, and I’m pretty sure dad doesn’t give you what you need.”

I suppose one tends to think of one’s children as somehow always too young to comprehend the sexual needs of older people, especially their parents; I was therefore somewhat startled by Frank’s insight into the situation and my needs. I kissed him and said, “Thank you, darling, for understanding.”

“I can understand, mother, because I’ve been having a sexual relationship with an older married woman for the past two years.”

“You’ve been what?”

“Now come on mother, you’re in no position to protest. I know from the pleasure that Cindy and I have had in each other that you were likely to get what you needed from Peter and that he’d make you happy.”

He was right, I was in no position to complain about his affair with an older married woman, and he was certainly correct about Peter making me happy, very happy.

“Look mum; I’ll do what I can to let you and Peter have time on your own, okay? But please be careful – no complications.”

I was overwhelmed by his acceptance of the situation and could only mutter, “Thank you, darling.”

For the rest of the fortnight Frank was a good as his word and there was quite a lot of trolling done. The trouble was, the more I had of Peter the more I wanted of him. That is probably the most dangerous thing about such affairs.

When we got home from the trip it was even more difficult for us to find the time when we could be free to make love. In addition, we were no longer isolated as we had been on the river. There were plenty of young girls around and I began to consider the disparity in our ages and wondered how long it would be before Peter tired of me and found himself someone younger. We couldn’t go out together and do all those things that lovers enjoy, apart from copulating.

Then the situation became direr. I was once told, “Be careful what you wish for, you might get it.” I got my wish; I was pregnant.

I suppose this is what Frank had meant when he said, “Be careful.” Since Peter and I had used no means of contraception my pregnancy should have been no surprise, but in the flush of passion you can set aside those sort of considerations, and obviously I had wanted Peter to impregnate me - had even begged him to.

There as no point in delaying the revelation until it became obvious; I tackled Harold first.

I came out with it quite bluntly one evening; “Harold, I’m going to have a baby.”

It didn’t seem to register at first. He stared blankly at me for almost a minute, and then I saw his expression change first to puzzlement, then anger.

“How the hell can you be pregnant, I always use a condom and we hardly ever do it anyway.”

I had thought of saying something about faulty condoms, but resisted the temptation.

There was another long pause, then it dawned on him; “You’ve been with someone else.”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say.”

Normally mild mannered Harold seemed to undergo a complete personality change.

“You bloody whore, you always were a randy bitch, right from the time we met you couldn’t do without it.”

The fight was on. “And you were glad enough to take advantage of it.”

“How could I help it, you practically ripped my trousers off.”

“You mean like the way you tore down my panties.”

“You just couldn’t wait to get it, could you?”

“You were lucky not to be charged with carnal knowledge.”

“Well how the hell was I to know you were only fifteen, you looked eighteen, and I bloody well married you, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes, you married me my ardent lover. I think I should have been a fishing rod then I’d have got more attention from you.”

The moment I mentioned fishing rod I wished I hadn't. Harold went silent for a moment, and then said very quietly, “It’s that kid we took on the trip isn’t it? I thought it seemed odd, the way you two spent so much time together, but I never dreamed…good God, he’s years younger than you.”

“You mean like I’m years younger than you, Harold.”

“It’s different when the man is older and…”

“Come on Harold, we’re living in the twenty first not the nineteenth century. Haven’t you noticed how many young men are looking for older women now?” I spoke those words with a confidence I did not necessarily feel. I imagined Peter fleeing when I told him I was pregnant with his child.

Harold sneered and said, “You didn’t suppose I’d take over the young sod’s bastard, did you? Or did you think I’d believe it was a faulty condom and imagine I was daddy?”

That shot went home nastily. “No,” I said, wondering what the hell I was going to do.

“Have you told the randy bugger yet?”

“No.”

“Then you’d better get on and do it, because he’s the one who’s going to keep you. I’ll play the gentleman for you and sleep in the spare room until you clear out.” Then with something like a note of malicious triumph in his voice he said,”Have you told Frank yet?”

“No.”

“I wonder what he’ll think of his mother when he knows.”

I almost said, “He won’t be surprised,” but managed to restrain myself.

As Harold stumped out of the room he gave one more passing shot; “When you tell your devoted lover I hope he dumps you.”

I wondered how Harold imagined that Peter would take responsibility if he dumped me.”

I waited for Frank to come in having decided to get it over with him as well.

In an “I told you so,” tone of voice Frank said, “I told you to be careful, mum. Have you told Peter?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you want me to tell him?”

“No, that’s very sweet of you, darling, but I’ve got to do it.”

“Look mum, Peter’s a good guy, he won’t try to duck out of it he’s too involved with you.”

“Have you been talking with him again about us?”

“He can’t stop talking about you so I can’t avoid the subject. I know it sounds sloppy but I think he really loves you.”

I wondered if he’d love me plus one other. “I’ll try and see him tomorrow, Frank, but I don’t want it to be here because I don’t want a big row with your father.”

“Why not go to his flat? I’ll see him at work tomorrow and tell him you’ll be coming to see him. He’s always expecting you anyway; his life seems to circle around being with you.”

I knew where his flat was because on a lot of occasions that was where we had met to make love. I wasn’t sure I wanted to make my revelation there, thinking some neutral place would be better, but there seemed to be no other real option.