Wilmington Woman's Club Ch. 29

"No!" she screamed as Porter reacted to her assault and tossed her onto her back and mounted her, holding her wrists crossed over her head. Her skin was on fire. She was crying.

"Goddamn you, Porter," she screamed in his face, which hovered over her like an animal over its prey. "Fuck me, you sonofabitch! Fuck me hard! Fill me with your cum! Make me preg... "

The word caught. Pregnant.

They were frozen in time. He looked shocked. It'd never occurred to him she wasn't using birth control.

Porter's face was red and wild. His were animal's eyes, like a lion on the scent. Roughly his hand spread the lips of her pussy. His cock slammed into her. He rutted like a wild beast, with small grunts – uh, uh, uh – each time his pubis hit hers.

He wants you to have his baby,the voice in her head said.Yes,she replied.Yes!

Her body opened to him, legs wide and relaxed, her arms flaccid above her head. Externally she felt numbness. Internally, she felt her vagina relaxing with each powerful thrust giving him the deepest access to her, and tightening, clutching at him on each withdrawal to keep him from leaving.

"Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me," She began to chant.

Porter growled as his face contorted. His frantic pounding intensified.

"HARDER! GOD DAMNIT, HARDER!"

That and other incoherent words spewed from her as his fingers dug into her shoulders. Porter gasped and thrust with a last mighty lunge, holding himself deep inside her.

She felt his explosion; heard his laugh.

The muscles of her cunt spasmed in a rolling, pulling motion. She clamped down on him, milking the last of his sperm from him. There was no blinding orgasm like the last time. But there was a series of seemingly unending smaller ones.

"So good. So good," she mewed.

He collapsed on her. Neither of them moved except for the twitching of relaxing muscles. He softened there, his cock plugging her and preventing the escape of his precious liquid. When he slipped from her, Natalie cleaned him as naturally as if she'd done it all her life.

Sampling the sweet, bitter taste of him, and finally licking her fingers clean.

They dressed in silence. He had not spoken since he pulled out that last time. He was lost in thoughts he didn't share.

"Porter?"

He looked at her for the first time since he was inside her.

"All you all right?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes. I'm very much all right."

"Are you fertile?" he asked.

"I'm ovulating now," she answered proudly.

His eyes were questioning, probing. Then, his expression changed. He smiled and exuded masculine power and confidence. It was not evil or cruel. It was loving, showing the pride of a man with his woman.

"I love you, Nat. Will you marry me?"

"I... um, yes, of course. I love you too, Porter. I'd be honored to be your wife."

He kissed her tears away and after a decent period of time, left her sleeping on the bed and drove away.

They met the following day, and began planning the wedding. All their friends were happy for them, especially Valerie Marcolina, who had been asked to be Maid of Honor.

Two months later, tragedy struck. Porter was racing along River Road, going 80 miles an hour with a 50 MPH limit. He took a curve at that speed, drifted into the oncoming lane and met a cement truck coming from the opposite direction. He died on the way to the hospital.

To say Natalie was distraught would be an understatement. For the first time in her life she had found love and happiness only to have it snatched away from her in the cruelest way.

She threw herself into her work, refused all offers to get her back dating again, preferring to wallow in her misery which she managed to keep from affecting her work. Three years would pass before she would accept a date with a fast rising developer named Vic Stephens, whom she would marry five months later.