This is a new variation of "Bred" by Jenny, Sakka, and Homer Vargas. Renewed thanks to Sakka for help with this version, too.
It all started out harmlessly enough. Jack had invited DeWayne and Suzie over to our house for dinner -- again! I never particularly liked these occasions. I could see that DeWayne, ungrateful that Jack had befriended him and promoted him to a supervisory position, was resentful of his young boss's position in top management while he was still blue collar. He tried to hide his envy by constantly making off-color jokes and little references to their having grown up together in the same working class town. My husband Jack, on the other hand, just liked his old classmate and paid no attention to the jibes. I, however, couldn't help but bristle. I did not mind Jack having remained friends with one of his black employees, but I didn't like the way the guy always leered at me. DeWayne was aware of, and reciprocated, my dislike for him by making jokes at my expense. Tonight he was on one of his favorite subjects.
"So, Jack-boy, when are you going to be puttin' a bun in the cute little oven of the prissy little white girl you married? I'll guarantee you, the lovin' gets a whole lot better when a woman's got your baby in her, making her belly swell up! They just can't get enough of the cock that knocked 'em up idn't that right, Honey?" He grinned and reached over to pat the prominent bulge in his blonde wife's tummy. Suzie just giggled and snuggled closer to DeWayne, stroking the bulge in his pants she'd put there. "Guess that's one reason I'll be givin' her number four as soon as she pops this one for me!" Affecting street jive was another of DeWayne's annoying habits.
Jack just laughed. "Katherine is up for junior partner this year, DeWayne. Not a good time to be starting a family. Besides she's is not really the 'mommy type.'"
I was grateful that Jack was sticking up for me, although I knew that part of him DID wish I stayed home cooking, cleaning, and taking care of a houseful of babies, as his mother had done for his father and his seven brothers and sisters. I knew, too, he wished I'd meet him at the door each night in a teddy and high heels, eager for him to fuck my brains out, as that airhead Suzie obviously did for DeWayne.
But I treated sex cautiously. If I let myself be too enthusiastic, I could wind up like MY mother. She had trained for years as an architect, but could never say no to Dad when he had that gleam in his eye. I had seen the arrival of one younger brother and sister after another delay and ultimately derail her plans for a career. I had inherited her wide hips and ample bosom and I was probably just as fertile. I was afraid even one a drop of semen at the wrong time would knock me up. I loved to fuck, as Mom must have, but worrying so much about getting pregnant put a crimp in Jack's and my lovemaking. Not being able to take the Pill was another inheritance from Mom.
In fact, the more success I had as a lawyer, the more cautious I became. Even with rubbers, I seldom let Jack fuck me within a week of my "danger zone." Subtracting out my menses (Jack's problem not mine <sigh>) and the uncertainties of a rather irregular period, there weren't many nights I could relax and just get fucked. Nor -- knowing how easily I get turned on -- could I risk giving Jack head or letting him eat me in between times.
Of course not wanting to be a tease; I tried to keep Jack from getting too wound up when I wasn't going to be able to satisfy him. I always dressed conservatively, seldom showing off my long legs and nice boobs in the frilly blouses, miniskirts, and strappy heels men love. Fearing my own romantic reactions, I steered us away from candlelight dinners, wild parties, and going out dancing. I avoided wearing the sexy lingerie and sleepwear that Jack kept giving me for our anniversary and Valentine's Day and I had to be pretty careful about snuggling up close at night; it would have been too cruel. In a word, I steered clear of all those things that the women's magazines advise for putting the "spark" into your marriage. I didn't want any sparks starting a fire I could not control.
DeWayne roared in laughter at Jack's comment. "Katie not the 'mommy type?' ANY woman is the 'mommy type' Jack-boy, once she's getin' fucked properly." Jack rolled his eyes; at least he got that insult. "Maybe you're not doin' a good enough job on Miss Society Girl. I'd say you could turn ole Katie into a regular baby factory once you go her going. Look at those hips! Plenty of room in there for twins or even triplets. And those hooters? Man, that girl could make enough milk feed quadruplets. How about it, Katie?" He leered at me, knowing how I hated for him to call me "Katie." "Isn't my boss enough of a caveman to throw you down and fuck you so good you don't know or care whether he's knockin' you up or not?"
"Now look here, DeWayne," Jack said; "that's out of line."
"Sorry. Just my honest opinion."
I was fuming, meanwhile, feeling my hatred for DeWayne burning in my chest. I was actually glad Jack was mad, too, but -- unfortunately -- he calmed down later when DeWayne apologized and promised to come around -- while Jack was gone on a business trip -- and help me clean up the garage. I tried to wave off that suggestion -- furtively raising my hands in an "X" behind DeWayne's back -- but Jack didn't seem to notice.
When DeWayne and Suzie finally left that night, I helped Jack pack and the next morning I kissed him good bye for two weeks. Knowing we might miss the next "safe" window I decided to risk getting a couple of condoms ready, hoping to get a nice "good-bye" fuck that morning. Jack, however, was in a hurry and left me feeling pretty horny. Of course, I knew that wasn't the only reason; I was always horny in the middle of my cycle.
//Damn that DeWayne, // I thought, remembering what he'd said about me; //I feel so fucking horny... !// It annoyed me that DeWayne had my number; Mother Nature had given me a body made for making babies and a libido to make sure I had lots of temptations. I got out the vibrator once I was alone, but it just made me hornier; I felt like I had an itch I couldn't scratch. Obviously, Mother Nature didn't agree with my brain's decision to wait about making babies.
Later that day, DeWayne came over. He was actually well behaved at first. Together, we cleaned out the garage, and he carried a lot of our junk up to the attic. I had to admire his clean, strong body. It was kind of weird; although I didn't really like DeWayne, I wore a tight T-shirt, shorts, and strappy white high-heeled sandals -- exactly the kind of thing I never wore for Jack. I don't think I was actively trying to be a tease -- it was probably just my cycle, making me a little crazy -- but I sure got DeWayne's attention. Several times, I caught him glancing at my breasts, and nice long legs.
"How about a drink?" DeWayne suggested around lunchtime "I brought some sherry."
"Hmm. I like sherry," I admitted; "how old is it?"
"Must be expensive."
"Aren't you worth it," DeWayne grinned, feigning to put the bottle back in its bag.
"I'm worth it," I said -- with a whine that actually surprised me. Wound up tight as I was, I enjoyed a nice sherry or cognac now and then. Obviously, it was something Jack had let slip.
"I guess we'll see," DeWayne said, taking the bottle out again. While DeWayne poured some glasses, I put out some chips and sandwiches, and both of us sat down on opposite sides of the bar in the middle of the kitchen. We were talking about nothing at all, but I got a tingle seeing him glancing at my chest as we ate. The fortified wine went right to my head; I actually felt pretty good, knowing I was turning him on. I was every bit as sexy as his blond wife and a lot smarter. The sherry must have been older, than he said -- probably as old as I was -- perfectly blended with aromatic gushes of fruitiness. I drank two or was it three glasses, and felt the numb happiness of intoxication slowly come over me. I was longer paying attention to what DeWayne was talking about. Down between my thighs, I could feel my pussy getting wet.
"You okay, Katie?" DeWayne asked.
I tried to concentrate -- but I just ended up laughing when I tried to keep a straight face. I twisted my feet in my sandals -- the high heels hooked over the rungs of my barstool -- and felt completely silly. "Tha's... good sherry," I admitted, drunkenly, "but... it mus' be more 'n than ten years old."
"Yes; it cost me more than you probably make in an hour."
"Tha's... a lot."
"Yes, I'm sure it is, but then as you said, you are 'worth it!'" DeWayne said ominously, suddenly standing up and walking around the bar. Although I hadn't realized it, he hadn't been drinking nearly as much as I.
"I can't stand up," I said, trying to lift my heels over the rung of the barstool. DeWayne just smiled, kneeling down to unbuckle my sandals. Coming loose from my feet, they hit the floor -- 'clunk... clunk'. Then DeWayne stood to face me, reaching right out to cup and squeeze my boobs.
"Boy that stuff works fast."
"Wha' are you talking 'bout," I asked sluggishly.
"The drug I put in your drink, Katie," he grinned. "They said it might take another half hour to hit you," he replied pulling me closer and nuzzling my neck.
"Drug?" I asked stupidly.
"Yes, just a little something to loosen up the in-control wife of my boss to release the big horny girl in you," he replied taking firmer control of the breast he was molesting.
"What do you think you're doing... ?" I asked.
.... There is more of this story ...