Victoria's Summer

The following weekend, Charles called her late Friday -- it was nearly dark despite the approaching equinox. "Hey? You around? I'm 20 minutes from C-town. Let me buy you dinner?"

"Well," Victoria said, hesitating with mock suspicion, "I was just going to wash my hair..."

Charles laughed. "Right. Do you need any help?"

"Charles!" she reprimanded him, on her faux dignity. "Is this a booty call?!"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Mmm, the door's unlocked. Twenty minutes?"

When Charles arrived, the apartment was dark. He knew she wasn't kidding -- the door really was unlocked -- but he knocked anyway and entered after receiving no answer. As he stepped into the dark living room, he heard soft, seductive music. 'Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien.' Charles chuckled to himself; he had introduced Victoria to Edith Piaf in college, before her time in France. He walked quietly to her bedroom and pushed the door open. In the light from a streetlamp he discerned her figure on the bed and knew she was nude under the sheet.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey yourself. What took so long?"

"I said twenty minutes..."

"It's been twenty-two."

Charles joined her on the bed and kissed her. "Sorry." He peeked under the sheet. "Can I make it up to you?"

"You'd better!"

He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his shirt but undressed no further. After deciding the room was sufficiently warm, he pulled the sheet off her. He gazed at her naked form, from her toes to her vulva to her breasts, then straight into her eyes. "Hey Vicky, I need to ask you..." he rubbed her belly "...is oral sex okay?"

"Hmph. It depends. Are you any good at it?"

"Touché. You know what I mean. Is it okay for the baby?" She quickly nodded. "Are you sure? No risk of, like, an infection or something?"

"Are you going to lick me or just talk all night?" He grinned and pushed her legs open.

Charles was good at cunnilingus. He would never say as much to Victoria, but Ruth had taught him almost all he knew, and he knew a lot. He knew how to start. He knew where he was going. He knew how to let things build. How to keep them building. He knew what to watch for. He knew how to make his lips, mouth, tongue, and fingers all work together. Very importantly, he knew when to slow down, when to gently suck her clit and when to massage her nipple. He knew when she could no longer stop herself from coming. And he knew when she was ready to start over.

Victoria had her first real orgasm (and also her second) that evening. Not that she had never had one. But these were 'real' because they had not come from her fingers or a toy, and she'd had no control of them. None whatsoever. He gave them to her, and they were intense. He controlled them, dispensed them, made of them a gift to Victoria.

Both were sated and happy in the darkness. Even so, Victoria finished undressing him and insisted that they have intercourse. "Or else, no fair. This is supposed to be a booty call, right? You're supposed to fuck me, Charlie."

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am." They fucked and loved the sheer simple fun of it. They fell asleep much later, welded together, without eating or ever having turned on a light.

The next morning Charles rose and made coffee, decaf, bringing a mug to her in bed. She was subdued, and he worried a little that he didn't understand what she needed, or where she was in the whole pregnancy journey. "How are we this morning, mademoiselle? Ça va bien? Sleep okay?"

Victoria gave him a phony grimace. "Well, we haven't even had sex this morning. How do you expect me to be okay?"

"Ah, yes, an unfortunate oversight. Forgive me. But the morning is still before us, is it not?"

Victoria briefly acknowledged the humor but became serious again. "Actually, we need to talk about sex, Charlie."

Charles's heart sank. He was prepared for her to say that they had made a mistake, that she regretted sleeping with her uncle (though he knew she loved it). He was fully prepared to endorse this verdict, for her sake if not his own. Instead, she surprised him by saying, "Charlie, I thought that losing my virginity -- with you -- could not be topped. I had died and gone to heaven. But then last night? When you gave me oral? My God...what was that? How did you even do that? And I didn't even know..."

Charles smiled and stroked her cheek. "It's fine, Vic."

"No, but..." She paused. "I could never have done that for you. I mean I want to -- more than anything -- but I don't even know how. I don't know that stuff. You know?"

Charles laughed gently. "You're fantastic, V. You just don't realize it. And anyway, remember, you were a virgin not so long ago! Give yourself a break."

Victoria acknowledged his point with a nod and an honest plea. "Okay, but teach me, will you? Teach me everything! Please?"

Charles said ruefully, "I can't, Vic. I don't know everything. You're teaching me, too, you know. Anyone you love has something to teach you."

Victoria lowered her eyes and conveniently discovered the coffee Charles had placed in her hands. She took a sip, then a deep breath. "Okay, another thing?"

Charles raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Victoria went on. "I know we can never really be together -- I get that, believe me. But I have every intention of hogging you while I can. While I'm preggers..."

Charles bowed. "Bien sûr."

Victoria ignored his French. "But Charlie, if Ms. Right comes along, you absolutely have to grab her, okay? We have to stop sleeping together someday, right? But 'someday' means today if the right woman shows up." She watched Charles for a reaction.

"Are you done?" he asked archly.

"For now."

He continued. "You're right. This is time limited. But I promise, Vicky, there is no 'Ms. Right' I am holding at bay so as to enjoy your charms. Which are considerable, if virginal."

Victoria replied evenly, "This is not about whether 'Ms. Right' is knocking on the door behind which we are... you know, having fun. It's about whether I keep you from looking."

"Vic, honestly, I'm not looking. I mean, I'm over Ruth and all, but I'm not looking." He winked at her. "And, by the way? You're the one who should be looking. What if Mr. Right, Mr. Perfect Dad should come along?"

"Fair point, counselor. Let's agree that each of us might meet someone ..."

Charles interrupted, "Let's hope."

"Agreed, let's hope. But for now?" She lowered her eyes shyly. "If no one comes along, can we just have a whole ton of sex while I'm pregnant?"

The Summer -- June

So began a summer of clandestine sex. Victoria had waited until the end of May to reveal her pregnancy to a few more people -- family and close friends -- figuring the news would spread on its own after that. Ruth heard it from a friend of Liz's and mentioned it to Charles after a meeting at his office. "Hey, Tate..." [Ever since law school Ruth had addressed Charles by his last name, even when they were married.] "... I heard Victoria's expecting. I didn't know she had a partner." Charles grinned. "She doesn't. She's doing it on her own. Sperm donor." Ruth was surprised and, she admitted, impressed. "You're kidding. Victoria?" She raised her eyebrows. "Wow! I didn't think she had it in her. I mean...well, good for her! When's she due?"

"Around Christmas."

"Who's her OB? Does she know where she's going to deliver?" Charles laughed and raised his hands for her to slow down. Ruth grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry. My mother's a..."

Charles interrupted, "I know: your mother's a midwife..."

"...midwife and I just blurt out all the pregnancy questions. Never mind, I'll ask her myself. But hey, tell her congratulations for me. Seriously, that's great."

"Roger that."

As summer warmed the shore, Charles became a regular visitor to Chestertown. Victoria explained to approving neighbors that he was her uncle, just keeping her company and helping out, along with her mother, Marie. Charles felt guilty sometimes about how little they did other than have sex. He suggested they take walks, see a movie, try a restaurant. Victoria acceded sometimes, but mostly preferred to stay in. It just felt weird being in public, she explained -- weird to have strangers smile and nod at the adorable 'newlyweds' expecting their first baby. "If only they knew we're just sex fiends," she said, relishing the irony.

Early in June Victoria informed Charles that she intended to become an expert fellatrice. She told him, "You're always doing stuff because I like it. I need to learn what you like." She added parenthetically, "You do like blow jobs, right?" Amused, Charles affirmed that he did but observed that, naturally, expertise required practice. Victoria replied with determination, "I'm going to be better at it than Ruth!"

Charles nodded with feigned seriousness. "Oh, well, in that case, lots of practice."

Victoria wrinkled her nose and retorted, "Careful what you say while your dick's between my teeth, bub!" Very soon she was indeed an expert and began to pride herself on how fast she could make him hard; on how quickly she could make him come or, alternatively, how long she could make him wait. She swallowed semen with gusto, but sometimes enjoyed teasing Charles by forcing him to make a mess, spraying her face, boobs, and hair. Pretending exasperation, she would scold him, "Honestly, Charlie! Can't you even control yourself?!"

July

Victoria spent Fourth of July weekend with Marie and Liz at Marie's house. They so doted on and pampered her that she felt nearly smothered. As they sat on the porch Sunday morning, a van drove up. Charles popped out and waved. "Morning ladies! Happy Fourth. Still okay for me to grab the chairs, Marie?" Charles's law school class was having its annual Fourth of July picnic at a nearby park and needed more lawn chairs. Marie gestured towards the side of the house. "You know where they are."

As Charles disappeared to find the chairs, two more classmates exited the van to help, followed by Ruth, who did not join them but waved and approached the porch. "Good morning! Hey, Victoria, I heard your news. That's awesome!"

Victoria smiled and simply said, "Thanks."

"When are you due?"

Victoria skirted the question, "Oh, not for a while yet. This'll be a winter baby."

"Boy or girl?"

"I hope so," Victoria quipped.

Sensing that her questions were unwelcome, Ruth asked no more. When the men returned lugging chairs, she excused herself to open the back of the van. As the van departed moments later, Ruth was mildly annoyed -- she felt Victoria had been rude. Similarly irritated, Victoria felt Ruth had been nosy.

Victoria continued to want 'a ton of sex.' She got less than she wanted, but it was so satisfying that she felt little urge to experiment. She had wanted Charles to teach her 'everything,' but she hadn't actually learned much except how to get him hard and then into her pussy as fast as possible. Charles pleased her with oral regularly, and once they tried cowgirl. Otherwise, Victoria was insatiable, but not particularly adventurous. That changed on an afternoon in mid-July when Charles decided to show her something rougher.

He'd been at her apartment for half an hour; already they were ravenous for each other. Foreplay had gotten them naked, aroused, and wet; Victoria was sopping and Charles was dripping. Hurrying to her bedroom, Victoria scampered to the bed, flopped onto her back and opened her legs. Charles regarded her briefly; then, without saying anything, flipped her onto her belly. Her nervous excitement rose as he repositioned her. He lifted her hips and nudged her knees under her. Then he pushed her shoulders down and forced her knees apart. With her hips and ass in the air, her anus and vagina beckoned him lewdly. She waggled her ass, teasing him. "Hold still," he instructed. She obeyed, and Charles rubbed the head of his stiff cock from her clit to her slippery opening and back. "Do you want it?" he asked, as though the answer was in doubt. "Tell me you want it," he said curtly, nudging her clit.

"I want it," she breathed.

Charles pressed just the tip of his cock into her opening and held it there, asking louder, "You want it?"

"I want it!"

"Here it is," he said tersely and drove his penis into her all at once, sinking as deep as he could. Victoria's eyes opened wide and she whispered, "Oh fuck." Charles grunted and began thrusting: in, out, and back in, making sure to bottom out every time. "Oh fuck!" she gasped. This wasn't just full -- this was deep. Her pussy creamed and got sloppier. Charles pushed forcefully, ramming her with his swollen prick. "FUUUCK!" she wailed and slammed the bed with her fist. "Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!!" As Charles continued pumping, Victoria became desperate for depth, desperate for girth, desperate to be rammed, reamed, pummeled, pounded -- to be fucked hard. She clenched fistfuls of the bed covers, raising her torso and arching her back to make her swollen tits sway and brush the covers, dragging her tingling nipples back and forth on the rough bedspread. Every muscle taut, Charles fucked and fucked and fucked; he pulled her hips to thrust deeper, to intensify the raw fucking.

Victoria gasped and uttered obscene, guttural gibberish, lost in a haze, her senses overloaded. She knew she was going to come, soon, and that it would be cataclysmic. Between ragged breaths and clenched teeth, she swore at him, "Don't you dare fucking stop!" When she came, her legs shook uncontrollably. Her sweating body twitched and trembled. Her face grew red and her eyes rolled back. She felt an intense pinpoint of pure ecstasy that she couldn't locate -- somewhere deep inside -- but couldn't doubt or deny. Charles felt her cunt spasm, clasping and clamping his cock; at that point he came, too, groaning and grunting as loudly as Victoria. Finally, he planted his cock deep in her womb and held it there, spurting semen.

Eventually, they fell over in exhausted laughter. "Holy shit...oh, my God," breathed Victoria. "What was that?"

Charles inhaled and managed a satisfied reply. "That, V, was doggie."

"God. I think I have a G-spot."

"Duh. You have a potty mouth, too."

Victoria closed her eyes and panted blissfully on the bed. "Given how it felt, I think was pretty restrained."

August

Victoria's apartment was affordable partly because it lacked air conditioning. In Maryland's August heat she kept the shades drawn and wore as little clothing as possible whether Charles was there or not. When he was there, she wore a beach wrap, sundress, or light smock. She wore a bra out of concern that her growing breasts might sag or get sore, but pointedly skipped panties.

By then, doggie had become her favorite sexual treat. She welcomed it -- sometimes demanded it -- whenever she could. Bent over any convenient piece of furniture -- chair, table, sofa, or kitchen counter -- she would hike her dress and take Charles from behind. Standing, they rutted in the oppressive heat until one or, more often, both of them climaxed. It became automatic; when the urge hit, they did it wherever they happened to be and seldom required the bed. Victoria furnished every room with lube, to Charles's amusement, the lube often disguised as body lotion, sunscreen, or hand moisturizer.

As her body changed, she shared each new development with Charles: a belly bump that expanded with the passing weeks; widening hips and ripening breasts with darkened areolas. She avidly consulted him as she shopped for bigger bras, hoping to make him blush: "Can you believe I need this cup size?!"

More pressing than bras, however, was a looming need for back-to-school clothes. She would be teaching again in September and needed appropriate attire -- 'school-marm chic,' Charles called it -- that fit her pregnant body. The likely cost of such a wardrobe surprised and annoyed her. "Why does everyone try to rip off pregnant women?" she groused aloud. Soon enough, she enlisted Marie's help and learned about second-hand and consignment shops for maternity clothes.

In addition to clothes, she needed baby gear and began making lists. She didn't want to shop all at the last minute (and what if the baby arrived early?) but neither did she want to get too far ahead of Marie and Liz, who planned to host a baby shower later in the fall to help her get equipped. At one point her mother, Marie, sighed, "You know, a shower would be a lot easier if we knew the sex, Victoria." Victoria rolled her eyes, but about a week later she let it be known she was having a girl.

Shopping and planning provided a diversion during long periods in which Charles was absent and unavailable, even by phone. August was typically his slowest month at the office, but not this year. He was unexpectedly busy and found it difficult to get to Chestertown. As it happened, a lot of his client work also involved Ruth. They shared clients on two engagements and had a third in which they represented related parties on the same side of a dispute. With their senior partners on vacation, Charles and Ruth found themselves on the hook for client meetings they might otherwise have skipped.

Hoping to break a logjam and schedule several meetings at once, they met one morning for coffee before joining clients for breakfast afterwards. Staring glumly at her calendar, Ruth asked, "Okay, what's your availability the next two weeks?"

Charles shook his head. "None. Or how about after 10 pm?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well, what can you move, Tate? Come on!" She leaned away from her calendar to study his. She quickly saw that he wasn't kidding -- he was impressively booked. She also saw the previous month and noticed several (a lot?) of similar notations: "V -- C-town." It took her a moment to decode it -- he was visiting Victoria. "Jesus, Tate, are you guys having an affair or what?" she joked without thinking.

Charles was wrong-footed and stumbled. "What?!"

Ruth stared at him in surprise. He hadn't dismissed or parried an obvious joke. She caught a whiff of defensive guilt. "Are you sleeping with Victoria?" she asked, incredulous.

Charles was offended, or pretended to be. "Don't be ridiculous..."

Ruth blinked and stared. "You are. You're sleeping with her! Jesus, Tate, she's your goddamn niece!"

"Ruth, no! What the...? Don't even go there, okay?"

Ruth said no more about it but regarded 'Don't be ridiculous' as a non-denial denial. Charles closed his calendar and ended the conversation. "Look, we'll figure out some dates. I'll see what I can move and send you a text, okay? Come on, we'd better get to that breakfast."

September

Victoria was nervous about returning to school. Students and colleagues who hadn't seen her since May would be surprised to see her in maternity clothes. She would be giving up the lazy, self-indulgent days of summer and readjusting to life on a schedule. Her schedule would be more predictable than Charles's, but she realized it would be harder than ever to spend time with him. Somehow she would need to shift her focus to class prep, advisees, grading -- everything that used to seem natural but now loomed as vaguely threatening.

To avoid surprising everyone at school, she'd met briefly with her department chair and the headmistress in August. The former reacted to her news cordially but seemed uninterested. In contrast, the latter had been quick with congratulations and enthusiastically offered her support. She reviewed the school's policies regarding maternity leave and assured Victoria there would be no problems, and any special needs that arose could be accommodated. If necessary, she could even swap her regular coaching duties -- Victoria coached cross-country and sailing -- for something less arduous, a study hall for example. Victoria was relieved and made it clear that her pregnancy was not a secret. Privately, she hoped the headmistress would tell everyone so it wouldn't be a surprise on the first day of school. To her relief, there were no questions at all about a boyfriend or fiancé; the baby's father, in effect, never came up.