The Whore Next Door

Fucking Tiffany in Paris was physically rewarding; like fucking a good-looking whore. Spending the night making love to the whore next door was consummate both emotionally and physically.

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Time seemed to fly the next three years. My arrangement with Karina remained ideal -- better than any mortal man could expect. In fact once both Haley and Kristen were in school Karina volunteered to work five half-days a week (as long as it didn't interfere with our fucking) for a non-profit that I set up. During this time I also set up complete college funds for Haley and Kristen, endearing me to Karina forever.

The only drawback to my relationship with Karina was that in a moment of weakness I did blow it once and told her that I loved her. I convinced myself that she almost said it back to me.

Karina's kids Haley and Kristen were turning out to be wonderful young ladies, and I have to admit that I spoiled them as much as I could, like a favorite grandfather would, although at the same time making sure that they had no sense of entitlement. In fact, both of them worked with me for a few hours each week at a food bank while Karina worked out at a nearby health club.

I would have spoiled Karina too, with expensive jewelry, but she put the kibosh on that. "I don't want to have to lie to Harrison if he ever becomes perceptive," she said in no uncertain terms when returning a diamond choker I was attempting to give her by fastening it around my ball sack.

Now that my sexual and emotional needs were being wonderfully taken care of by Karina during the week, and my sexual needs were being taken care of by Tiffany on Saturday, I was in a truly happy place. Then something happened that made things much more complicated.

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Roughly three years and nine months after I started fucking the whore next door, and roughly three years and seven months after I had fallen in love with her, on a Wednesday afternoon in the condo second/separate bedroom, after a truly epic sexual experience, as Karina lay on my shoulder I felt and heard her sobbing.

"What's the matter, darling?" I asked, lifting her up and trying to make eye contact with her.

"I did something selfish and that I should have talked to you in advance about; and now you'll hate me, and want to get rid of me," she moaned, then sobbed some more.

"That's ridiculous. While I've only told you once because it's clear that you don't want to hear it, but I love you. If I got rid of you I'd ruin my own life. What's wrong...you can tell me," I sweetly said, gently shaking her.

The sobbing and back-and-forth continued for another ten minutes or so. Finally she regained her composure. She stared into my eyes. "I love you too, Dalton. Even though I've never said it before it's true; I do love you."

"After that, I can guarantee that nothing you say will cause me to dump you," I smiled -- my inner joy from her "love you" comment greater than anything that could be seen on my face.

"I took some of your DNA and had it tested," she started out before sighing, quickly making eye contact, and then looing away.

At first I asked myself "How did she get my DNA," but then laughed to myself "Oh, I don't know, stupid -- maybe she collected some of the three-four per week massive sperm deposits that you made in her pussy."

Karina continued, "I had it tested against that of the baby boy growing in my womb," she mumbled. "And you're his father."

I don't know what Karina was expecting my reaction to be, but her expectation of my reaction probably wasn't what it was in actuality.

"I love my two daughters, and your two are like my own also; but I've always wanted a son," I nonchalantly replied and then kissed her gently on the lips.