Victoria's Summer

When school finally started, her students, 10th graders taking English 2 and seniors in a course on Contemporary Voices, were unexpectedly, unconditionally wonderful. The senior boys were especially sweet and protective, but all the students went out of their way to be cheerful and helpful. Victoria had never realized how much they simply, truly liked her. She embraced the positive vibe and both of her classes became supportive communities, not only for her but for one another generally. To her happy surprise, Victoria loved being back on campus.

Charles's birthday was September 12, but he was tied up and unable visit Chestertown. While this was hardly surprising, Victoria was disappointed. He promised to come the next day, Sunday. When he got there that afternoon, Victoria smothered him. He peppered her with questions about school as she undressed him. Each of her answers prompted another question and the removal of another article of clothing. Soon Charles was fully naked while Victoria remained fully clothed. He laughed and his penis rose. Victoria admired his lean body with its end-of-summer tan lines. She grabbed his hardening penis and tugged him toward her for a playful kiss. "It's time for your birthday present," she informed him.

"Hmm...let me guess."

Smiling broadly she said, "I'm giving you my prune."

Whatever he expected, this was not it. Victoria enjoyed his bafflement and offered a clue. "John Barth, Tidewater Tales." He knew Barth but remained stumped. Pleased with her riddle, she coyly gave another hint, "Well, you already took my cherry. Now I'm giving you my prune."

The penny dropped and Charles raised his eyebrows. Victoria confirmed his guess matter-of-factly, "Anal. You're going to get some butt sex."

Charles was hesitant, though his penis got harder. "What if I don't like prunes?"

"You haven't had mine."

"I didn't bring a condom."

"I'm clean as a whistle -- I promise. Plus, I can do it. I've been practicing." In fact, she had been casually researching anal sex as she considered her birthday present. She was indeed clean, but the only 'practice' she'd had involved a lubricated tampon. To persuade him she added, "All the pregnancy books say it's fine."

Charles remained skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Victoria nodded. Then she urged, "Come on. Half my life I've been hearing how guys all want anal. You act like you don't." She paused, pretending to be disappointed, and tickled his cock. "Your dick says you want it!" Charles was silent so she continued. "Really, Charlie, you act like you've never done it. Have you?" Then she needled him, "For real, have you?"

Charles shook his head.

"Really? Ruth never gave you hers?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Then we are FOR SURE doing this!"

In reply, Charles lifted her top and tugged it off. She leaned over to lick his nipple while he unsnapped her bra; she shrugged and it fell to the floor. She unbuttoned her skirt and kicked it off. "Lead the way, Tigress," Charles said as she dragged him to the bedroom.

Victoria felt butterflies. Nervous, yes, but also excited to be the one in charge of a new sex act. "We're going to spoon, see?" She reclined on the bed on her side, bent her top leg and beckoned him, "We'll just go slow." Charles nodded and she continued her instructions. "Now, the keys are 'Go slow,' 'Relax' (that's on me), and 'Lots of lube'... really, tons of lube, okay? And you have to be, like, super hard."

As Charles joined the spoon, she reached between them to guide his cock. Charles brushed her hand away, replaced it with his and pushed himself into her pussy. With a pleasant shudder she noted, "Wrong door, Chief."

He responded calmly, "Just some natural lubrication first," and began thrusting slowly. As he did so he picked up a bottle of lube and squirted a blob on his fingers. Slipping his hand between them, he dabbed it on her anus and rubbed lightly. The next glob he pushed inside and massaged her opening. With a third helping his fingertip rimmed her sphincter. After yet more lube, he pushed his finger into her. Victoria flushed and purred. The sensation of a finger in her butt and a cock in her pussy was wild -- totally new and exquisitely erotic.

She accepted two fingers with only mild discomfort. They both were encouraged, expecting a heady experience that would be bearable (at worst) for her, and pleasurable for him. Charles withdrew from her pussy and positioned his cock at her other opening. They exchanged smiles. But as soon as he pushed she winced. He stopped. She drew a breath and nodded, "Okay...easy." He pushed again and her hand flew back to stop him. "OW! Shit. Wait."

Charles froze. He clasped her fearful hand in his and held still, hoping to reassure her. "Just... g-give me a second, okay?" she stammered. Charles whispered, "Maybe we shouldn't, V."

"No...I can do this." She collected herself and demanded more lube before letting him push again. Each push was painful. When she stopped him again, he encouraged her to relax. Relax! She had an urge to smack him despite her aching bottom. Charles started to pull out, but she snapped, "No! We're halfway there." Charles took a peek. He did not have the heart to tell her they were barely halfway to halfway.

The deeper he got, the hotter was the stabbing pain. Shit! Still, she refused to let him exit. He penetrated further, slowly, less than an inch at a time, with frequent breaks over the next fifteen minutes. At last Victoria felt his groin on her cheeks and knew he was in. Charles extended his arms around her, embracing her. "Are you okay?" he whispered. She nodded, but he knew she was in pain and could hardly believe she hadn't called a halt. Guilty though he felt about her discomfort, it was just incredible to be buried in her ass. Nothing could be tighter, and his cock had never felt harder, not even close. Her back passage was so hot and gripped him so tightly that the experience was entirely about her and her incandescent ass, not his penis. He had a strong urge to start thrusting but didn't dare.

Finally, Victoria muttered, "Well you're in there. Let's have it. See what you can do."

"Are you sure?" She nodded. Charles cautiously pulled back -- an inch -- then pushed in. Victoria breathed a little deeper and he took another tentative stroke. For every inch he pulled out, an inch of her colon shut tight; each time he pushed, his cock forced it opened again. She screwed her eyes shut, but gingerly moved her hand to his hip to encourage him to keep going. Charles gradually lengthened his strokes, and the stabbing pain in her butt bloomed into something bigger but less focused; the discomfort spread out within her and lost some of its intensity.

Charles rutted in her ass, picking up his pace. It felt amazing -- like nothing else he'd ever done -- but he also knew that once he came, her ordeal would end. Worried about her, he did not try to prolong it. She urged him on grimly, "Get it while you can, I guess." When Charles was about to come, he cupped her breasts and pulled her to him. "Oh God, I'm there, Vic! I'm coming!"

"Come inside me," she hissed. "Come in my ass!" Charles kissed her mouth hard as, with a last thrust, he exploded.

They lay quietly, still joined, while his cock softened. Charles stroked her hair, her cheek, her flank and eventually withdrew his penis. "Sorry Vic. That was incredible. Really. But I'm sorry."

"Happy birthday."

They spooned for what seemed an age. At length, Victoria asked shyly, "Hey? ... Charlie?" Then very quietly, "Do you think I'm a slut?"

Grieved by her question, Charles nuzzled her ear and petted her valiant bottom. "No. You were generous, Vic. You were brave. ... I think you're a saint." She smiled and twisted around to thank him with a kiss.

The following weekend Liz hosted her annual Autumn Equinox Party. Friends and neighbors gathered in her ramshackle house and modest yard to observe, if not celebrate, the passing of summer. A caterer passed hors d'oeuvres and a talkative sommelier oversaw a wine tasting. The theme this year was Alsace and the wines were cool and sweet.

Victoria wore a back-to-school maternity jumper. She felt great -- rejuvenated -- in what amounted to a coming out for her pregnant persona. After being cloistered in her apartment for most of the hot summer, she was out now -- out teaching, walking, driving shopping, and socializing. She was comfortable being seen for what she was: a healthy, vigorous, obviously pregnant woman. She greeted friends with hugs and air-kisses. Some heard for the first time that she was carrying a girl; they congratulated her and gamely suggested names.

Ruth was among the guests and had even brought a date, Dave. Whether she and Dave were just friends or an actual couple no one knew. They were greeted warmly by Victoria, to Ruth's relief. She and Charles had continued working together the past few weeks, but by tacit agreement neither mentioned Victoria. Still curious about what was going on between them, Ruth observed the pair closely but detected nothing suspicious. In contrast to the guests' general consensus that Victoria looked fabulous, Ruth thought she looked too thin; her frame, her belly -- ought to have been bigger. She wondered if Victoria was trying to avoid gaining weight, to preserve her figure or regain it more easily post-partum. Either way, it was ill-advised, Ruth thought.

Liz, holding court as hostess on her front porch, waved to Ruth. Ruth grabbed a glass of wine and joined her. "Ruth! Thanks for coming. How are you? Charles told me work has been impossible."

Ruth nodded and rolled her eyes. "Very busy, yes. And no break in sight. But, a good problem to have, we tell ourselves."

"And tell me about your young man. What does he do?"

"Dave, yes." She hesitated, "Um, he's a lawyer."

"Oh, Ruth, not anther one! We have enough lawyers. Why don't you find a farmer, say? Or an artist -- a sculptor or painter or something."

Ruth laughed at her ex-mother-in-law's outspokenness. "Well don't write him off so quickly, Liz! Dave's a good guy. And anyway, he's just a friend." They scanned the gathering and saw Dave chatting with Charles. "Oops," joked Ruth, "I hope that's nothing dangerous," as she cocked her head at the pair.

Liz dismissed it airily, "Oh, you know Charles would never say anything against you. At least he'd better not." She changed the subject. "Have you seen Victoria? She's having a girl, you know."

"Yes, I heard. I admire her spirit, her confidence, doing it all on her own."

"Well, she's not alone alone. Marie and I are there for her. And by the way, we're planning a baby shower. You have to come."

"Of course! When?"

"Oh, we don't have the date yet. The timing is awful. I think we'll have to squeeze it between Thanksgiving and Christmas -- maybe the 10th."

Ruth was surprised. "That's cutting it close, isn't it?"

Liz looked puzzled. "No. Why ever do you say that?"

"I thought she was due at Christmas."

"Oh, no, of course not! Not until February. The 15th I was told. Plenty of time."

Ruth did not know what to say, but finally replied, "I see. Yes, plenty of time. My mistake."

Later, leaving the party, Ruth bid goodbye to Victoria and looked her over again. She did, in fact, look wonderful -- not underweight. She simply wasn't 28 weeks pregnant.

Hallowe'en

Victoria's doorbell rang Hallowe'en morning. It was a cloudy, breezy Saturday and Charles was coming later to help with trick or treaters. When the bell rang, Victoria rushed to the door, excited by the possibility that he had come early to surprise her. It was Ruth. Which was even more surprising, but much less welcome.

When the door opened, Ruth smiled. "Trick or treat!" she said gamely, holding up a bakery bag.

"Ruth. What a surprise."

"Yeah, I know," Ruth replied apologetically. "Sorry. Can I come in? I thought we could talk."

"Oh. Um, sure." Victoria unlatched the screen door and stepped back.

Ruth carried a takeout tray with two cups of coffee in her other hand. She lifted it and said, "Decaf lattes. Soy or skim. And chocolate croissants." Indicating the bakery bag.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I've already eaten."

Ruth nodded. "Maybe later. I'll put them in here." She pointed at the kitchen and walked past Victoria to put them on the table. Victoria followed her but remained in the doorway. Ruth took her raincoat off and draped it on a chair. They regarded each other silently for a bit before Ruth spoke. "I want to talk to you about Charles -- about you and Charles." Victoria crossed her arms, waiting. "I know you've been sleeping together," Ruth blurted.

Victoria's mouth fell open in shock. She entered the kitchen but stepped past Ruth to a window. "What? What?! Ruth, how can you say that?! Why would you..." She clutched her belly reflexively and stared out the window, deliberately avoiding Ruth.

"Tate denied it, too."

"Well, of course he did!" She turned to confront her. "How could you even think that?! Who are you telling this garbage?"

"Victoria, look, I didn't come here to make some weird ex-wife's claim on him. I'm not a competitor."

"Then what the hell are you?"

Ruth did not respond. She slowly pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "Charles is the father, isn't he?" she asked.

In her desperation to deny it, Victoria couldn't find the words to do so. She turned away again.

Ruth continued. "He thinks the baby is due at Christmas."

"So?"

"Liz told me it was middle of February. When I saw you at her place last month, I thought, wow, she doesn't look 28 weeks. Sorry -- my mom's a midwife. I knew pregnancy math before I could do long division." She paused to draw a breath. "Anyway, after I talked to Liz, I realized Tate and I were the only ones who actually thought you were due at Christmas. He's the only one you told that, right?"

Victoria did not answer.

"You told him you were pregnant in March, but it didn't happen until May at least. Charles was the 'sperm donor'."

"Who have you told this to?" Victoria's eyes were angry but fearful.

Ruth ignored the question. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Victoria stared at the wall behind Ruth and eventually shook her head. "No." She spoke slowly, "It isn't what you think...I did have a sperm donor picked out, a real one." She hesitated and Ruth waited for her to continue. "I thought if he believed I was pregnant, Charlie might be willing...just once...then I'd go back to the donor, but ... we didn't stop."

With her foot Ruth pushed out the other chair for Victoria, who looked at it, then sat down and began leaking tears. "After it happened, I was so happy ... I'm still ... I want my baby girl to be his."

Ruth pulled the cups from their holder. "Soy or skim?" Victoria took the skim. Ruth said, "I was thinking maybe I could be your attorney."

Was that a lame joke? Victoria wondered.

Ruth continued. "What I mean by that is two things. Number one, I will always keep your secrets. Number two, I'll give you the best advice I can." She paused for a reaction.

"Thanks, I guess. Maybe..." Victoria said cautiously. "You have advice?"

"Try the croissant." She extracted two golden pastries from the bakery bag. Victoria accepted one and pulled it apart without looking at it. Ruth continued, "I think you have a decision to make, and I see only two real choices. The first is much better in my opinion."

"And that is..."

"Stop sleeping with him. Stop seeing him altogether. I know he's coming over later tonight. Don't seduce him, Victoria. Tell him not to come, not tonight. Tell him you're not feeling well. Tell him you've met someone. Tell him anything. He'll do the right thing -- you know he will. He'll stay away. He'll respect your wishes. Stop treating him like he's your husband." Ruth paused and took a sip of her coffee, watching for a reaction.

Victoria didn't respond so Ruth went on. "Look, Victoria, if you don't stop, he's going to figure it out. He has to. Stop now, and you have three months to grow apart, to be separate again. And, let's be honest -- he might figure it out anyway. But who knows, maybe not. Maybe you'll deliver at 35 weeks -- say early January -- and maybe he'll think you're just a little past due. Then it becomes exactly what it was always supposed to be -- you're a single woman who used a sperm donor to have a baby. It's what everyone already thinks. It's what everyone wants for you."

"What's the second choice?"

"You tell him now that the baby is his. That's going to be hard, but it's harder not to. Like I said, if you two don't split up, he's going to learn the truth. It's better to find out now, because you two have lots to figure out. If he knows it's his, he won't abandon either of you. You know he won't. He's decent. What does that mean? He's the father, he'll have to pay child support, maybe 'mom support,' too. And custody is an issue. Are you going to live like a divorced couple? Are you going to live together? Where? Not here. Are you going to move away? Hide? There's too much to figure out, Victoria. He has to be part of the decisions, and you can't wait until Christmas."

Victoria nodded. She grew quiet and toyed with the croissant, looking back and forth from Ruth to the window. Finally, she asked simply but pointedly, "How did you ever give him up?"

"Sorry it's hard," Ruth said. "You know, when I figured out the first part, I told myself it couldn't be true. I thought Charles was too goddamn pure to be seduced. Hey, I should know -- I worked a long time at it. But then I thought, 'no, Victoria could do it.' You're that special to him. I don't think anyone else could have.

"But you're not giving him up. Think about it, Victoria: you're getting him back. You'll be getting good old Uncle Charlie back."

They sat for another half hour, in the course of which they finished the coffee and pastry. Victoria agonized about her choices. Finally, Ruth picked up her coat and rose to leave. Victoria got up with her and gave her a shy hug. They walked to the door together.

Ruth told her, "Be strong tonight, okay? Call me anytime. I'll help if I can." As Ruth opened the door, Victoria said, "Hey?" Ruth turned. "Charlie's much better than 'decent.'" Ruth nodded, "I know."