Chapter 1

Did you ever make a wish that came true? I’ve made lots of wishes throughout my life, and some have come true, and lots have not. Most that have come true have come true in ways I didn’t expect. You know, you wish you wish for, say, more money, but you say “I really wish I had some dough,” and you go home to find out the wife bought a breadmaking machine and is trying it out, and it occurs to you that your wish came true, literally, but not the way you meant it. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that the universe or whatever is in charge of granting wishes has a perverse sense of humor.

I say “perverse” for a reason. The last wish I made was granted, but not at all in the way I expected, nor really, in the way I wanted, even in my most perverse fantasies. That, let me tell you, is saying something deep and meaningful.

I don’t know whether I did it to myself -- as time has passed, I’ve given it a lot of consideration. I made my wish on Halloween. It was a clear day, it was a bit chilly but not cold, warm enough in the sun shining down on the autumn leaves were blowing red and gold in the air and along the ground, and the smell of wood smoke was in the air. You don’t think about scary things, demons or ghosts or devils running around loose on a day like that. At night, sure! But on such a gorgeous Fall day, such is not even close to consciousness unless you’re a kid getting ready to go trick-or-treating later that night, am I right?

I was walking across the park to the store to pick up some candy for the neighborhood kids we expected to show up at the door later. We’d already carved the pumpkin and set up a skeleton in the rocker on our porch, and set up sort-of spooky lights on the walkway from the street to the front door, when my wife realized we’d forgotten the candy. So off I went. There was a mother watching her kid try to fly a kite on the grass; the breeze was strong enough, but too occasional and erratic to keep the kite in the air. I smiled as the kid ran by me, puffing and panting.

I got to the little fountain in the park, and something about the sunlight in the spray and the little rainbow it created caught my eye. It was really just a lovely little scene. There was a sign in the fountain that said that all donations went to the Shriners hospital for kids, and I thought for a second about the tv commercials that had recently run about the good services they provide to kids who have some very unfortunate health conditions in their lives, and the “Your donations show you care!” ad campaign.

I’ve always wanted kids, but circumstances and dating choices have never allowed for that to happen. I’ve always dated older women, not necessarily that much older, but not too young, and most of the ladies I’ve dated or married have had reproductive issues. The wife before my current one had a child young in her life, but by the time we got together, her daughter was an adult. My first wife said she didn’t want kids, but it turned out that she just didn’t want one with me -- discovering that one did hurt a bit. The few girlfriends in between had to have hysterectomies, or at least that’s what their doctors had told them, hysterectomies being one of the most overused unnecessary surgeries performed in the U.S.

So there I was, at the fountain, thinking about kids, and wanting to help the kids who needed it get medical care. I fished out the only coin I had in my pocket, my “lucky” silver dollar, made the wish that “the woman I love and I could have a child” and tossed it into the fountain. The “lucky” silver dollar wasn’t really special, as far as I know -- you just don’t run across silver dollars much anymore, they aren’t really even made of silver, and when I’d gotten it in change a year or so back I’d held onto it, mostly because you can’t use the things in vending machines or parking meters and so on, and, well, I mostly use debit or credit cards to pay for things these days, so it mostly lived in my pocket with my chapstick, keys, and lint. The wish was heartfelt and deep, but pretty much impossible to come true, as my current wife, though younger than I, had recently recovered from her own hysterectomy. I figured maybe we’d adopt, but probably not even that. We tended to think of our dogs as our kids.

I turned to leave, and nodded to a guy in an overcoat sitting on the bench nearby as I walked past him to follow the path to the other side of the park. I went to the drug store across the street, bought several bags of assorted candies for the kids, and started back. By the time I got to the fountain, it was growing more chill, the sunlight had changed, and the rainbow, the guy, and the mother and her kid with the kite were gone. I made my way home, plugged in the pumpkin and skull lights up our walkway, lit the candle in the pumpkin on the porch, and went inside to await the trick-or-treaters.

My wife kissed me hello, took the candy and arranged it in a big bowl for the kids to choose from, and put it by the door. We settled down for pizza and an old Hammer horror film, pausing the DVD whenever the doorbell rang. We had about fifty kids show up that night, which was up from the year before. It was about 11:30 when we extinguished the pumpkin and unplugged the walkway lights and went to bed.

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by my lovely wife, Linda, who appeared to be feeling frisky. She had taken down my pajama bottoms and was doing a great snakecharmer’s trick with her mouth, and then moved over and captured my bobbing python in her basket. She’d obviously taken off her pajamas as well, and her bouncing breasts had me mesmerized as she shimmied and thrust down on me. It was delightful, and we laughed and groaned and mmmm’ed for five or six minutes before she began to get truly serious, like she was riding me for the finish line and the roses. As we crossed the finish line together, she cried out “Yes! Fill me up, baby!” and actually screamed her release. She’s not usually a screamer, though I’ve been known to growl and yell at orgasm, so this was unusual, and nice. I felt pretty manly when she did that.

She fell down on top of me after she came, my cock still buried in her pussy, both still pulsing and twitching and warm. She hugged her breasts into me, and said “I love you!” I told her I loved her, too. She said, “We should have a baby.”

I said, “Mmm, that would be nice,” thinking this was a part of the conversation we’d had for a while, now. “Maybe we could adopt one.”

She was still a moment, then said, “Don’t you want a baby that’s biologically yours? A child of your loins’?” she asked as she squeezed her pussy muscles on my softening cock.

“Honey, we had our chance. You know I’d have liked that, but that’s not something that’s in the cards for us, now,” I replied. “It’s never really been in the cards for me.”

“Well...” she said, and got quiet. She cuddled me, kissed me, and as sleep was stalking me, she said again, “I love you.”

Again, I said, “I love you, too ... babe...” as I faded out for the night.

About a week later, I began to notice that my wife was acting a bit odd. We were having a lot more sex, and in more varied positions, which was great. She was having me kiss and suck her nipples a lot, too, which was kind of unusual. I mean, not that unusual, but she was more insistent about it, which was. She seemed to be getting lost in thought a lot. One evening, I heard her talking to someone, I thought, but when I walked into the room there was be no one else there, and she acted like I was hearing things. My hearing isn’t the greatest, so I supposed that was possible and went back to what I was doing. But I paid closer attention after that and when I heard her again I snuck into the hall outside the door and listened for a moment. She was on the phone, and talking about a meeting of some kind. The voice on the speakerphone was definitely female.

My wife and I have a trusting relationship. We both feel that trust is vital to love, and after a number of years we’ve forged a strong trust in each other based on knowing each other’s strengths and failings, desires and fears, and personal quirks. I was faced with a test of my trust in my wife, and based on my faith in my wife’s love and my expectations of how she valued our relationship, I trusted that whatever she would tell me about whatever it was she was doing at an appropriate time. I mean, really, it could be anything -- a Thanksgiving or Christmas surprise, a problem that one of her friends was having that she was helping with, something with work, whatever.

Another week passed, and Linda told me she had a dinner with “the girls” -- she and her friends get together every few weeks and have drinks and dinner and chat about families, friends, old times, and such. I encourage these, as I want her to keep in touch with her female support network, as I have learned that without effort at maintenance, such friendships can drift apart all too easily, and Linda’s friends are important to her. Besides, when she has an evening out, I can spend some time playing a game on the computer, a guilty pleasure for which my wife has absolutely no tolerance.

She came home in the middle of battle with a dragon, and as soon as the graphic beast was dead, I saved the game and welcomed her home with a kiss and a kneading butt squeeze, something we both enjoy. She pulled open my silk smoking jacket-style robe (I know, I know, but I’ve always thought they were classy, and it was a spoiling myself night) and pushed me backward onto the bed and jumped on me. I was erect in no time flat. I love it when she takes charge and does the whole I want you now’ thing. God it’s a turn-on! She was already wet and rode me like a pile- driver. It must have been a titillating night of seriously sexy talk with the girlfriends! She was very vocal that night, too, and I was glad we now lived in a house rather than the old apartment we’d lived in when we got together, because otherwise the whole apartment building would have heard her! It was When Harry Met Sally squared. It was like the old Richard Pryor routine where his wife ends up screaming the notes from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I shot my load so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if she could have tasted it. Damn, it was fan- fucking-tastic!

Once again, she collapsed down on me and we lay together, a sweaty mess, panting like we’d run a marathon. As we cuddled, I asked her, “What the fuck got into you!” She raised up off my chest and gave me the wickedest grin I’d ever seen on her face.

“So you liked that, huh?” she asked, an eyebrow arched.

“Of course! What got your motor running so hard? Not that I mind! We may have to expose you to whatever it was again sometime!”

She said, tauntingly, still with that wicked grin, “You’re gonna find out! Soon enough!”

“A mystery, huh? Hey, I’m game!” I replied.

She cuddled down on me, again, my cock still buried in her pussy, and hugged me with her entire body. “I love you so very much!” she said.

“And I love you, too, my beautiful lady-wife!”

We fell asleep like that.

The weekend arrived, and with it a lovely Indian summer warm streak. I went for my every- other-Saturday morning haircut, ran some errands at the hardware store, and got home about lunchtime. Linda was wearing a really nice sundress, sans bra or panties, and working in the garden when I got home, getting it ready for the next year. I watched her work from the porch for a few minutes, admiring the view. The sun in her hair was spectacular, and the glow she’d worked up was causing the dress to cling to her curves -- always a sight worth taking the time to admire. My wife is shaped appropriately for a woman her age, round in all the right spots, lovely curves with not a harsh angle to her. The shape of a real woman.

She looked up and smiled, cocked her hips, and asked, “You like what you see?”

“God, yes! Baby, you are gorgeous!” I answered.

“Did you remember the potting soil?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, hold on, I’ll get it.” I replied.

I brought the stuff in from the car, delivered the potting soil to her, and gave her a kiss. She instructed me to fetch a couple of towels and join her in the hot tub, and I hastened to obey. I hung the towels over a rail, opened the tub’s cover, stripped and stepped in. She finished her work, strode over to the tub and slowly dropped the dress, revealing a goddess in her feminine glory. She stepped in, scooted toward me, and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’ve got a surprise for you this evening,” she said. “We’re having a guest to dinner.”

“Oh? Is this the mystery you were talking about?”

“Part of it,” she laughed.

“Well, who’s coming to dinner?” I asked.

“You’ll see!” she said smugly, and she kissed me deeply. I let my hands wander over her body a bit, and found that her nipples were very erect, and she moved so that my knee was between her legs. She began to rock on it softly, rubbing herself on my thigh.

“What are you up to? Whatever this is about has got you very excited, hasn’t it?” I asked.

“I told you, you’ll see! Now kiss my neck and then suck on my nipples, baby!”

I happily obliged, and she brought herself to a relatively quiet orgasm on my knee, gazing into my eyes, her face a vision of sexual pleasure and love. Once she was done, I moved one of her hands to my very stiff cock, but she took it away, saying, “Ah-ah! Not yet. I want you to save that for later tonight! I am going to rock your world, and I want you at full strength!” I must have pouted, because she laughed again and said, “It will be worth it!” and pushed me back into the tub, wetting my hair.

We bubbled in the tub for half an hour, watching the dogs play in the yard. When we got out and toweled each other off, she went to start dinner preparations, still naked, and sent me to play my computer game, of all things. I was not about to complain, though I was a bit distracted thinking of her cooking au naturelle.

As the evening drew close, we showered and dressed for dinner with our mystery guest. Frankly, I was hoping to get dinner over with and to be able to send our guest home so I could pounce on Linda. I was definitely feeling randy, and it felt like my balls were working overtime.

When the doorbell rang, she told me to invite our guest in. I opened the door, and stood in shock. My ex-wife was standing on our porch.

A bit of explanation is in order, I suppose. Linda had met Debra, and they were on relatively cordial terms. My daughter, Ellie, had been a bridesmaid at our wedding, and Debra had been specifically invited to attend, by Linda. Debra and I were on good terms -- we had divorced amicably, and while I wouldn’t say we were close friends anymore, that friendship, though distant, still existed. Debra was very encouraging of and supportive of my continued relationship with Ellie, and Ellie and Linda were as close as a stepmother and adult step-daughter could be. So, there was occasional friendly contact between Linda and Debra, but I would never have expected to find Debra coming to dinner in our home unless Ellie were there. And she wasn’t.

“Debra! Uh, hi! Come on in! Welcome!” I stammered.

“David, lovely to see you! Here, some wine for the evening. I hope you like it, it’s not dry.” Debra said, handing me the bottle, and stepping in.

“Debra! So glad you could make it!” Linda said, coming around the corner. Debra and Linda hugged each other, and kissed each other on the cheek. “Honey, go open the wine and pour us all a glass.”

I moved to do so, and Linda invited Debra to sit down. Debra said hello to the dogs, who were happily greeting her and Linda sat next to her on the couch. While I was uncorking and pouring the wine, I heard bits and pieces of their low conversation.

“ ... talked about...”

“ ... yet, He...”

“ ... tonight ... Thanksgiving ... Christmas...”

I walked back in with the wine glasses. “Here you are, ladies.” I tasted mine, and appreciated that my ex had taken my sadly lacking palate for wine into account. This was a nice fruity Riesling, much more to my taste. “Thank you, Debra, I appreciate your thoughtfulness!”

“You’re quite welcome. I remember that you used to say that drinking a dry wine tasted like you were drinking cotton!”

I grimaced, and the ladies laughed. I regret not having a palate for finer wines. Linda stood and said, “Dinner is ready, why don’t we sit down at the dining room table?”

We followed her into the dining room, and I held out a chair for Debra as Linda popped into the kitchen and reappeared with a bowl and a platter. I held out her chair and seated her, then stepped into the kitchen myself to grab the remaining dishes.

We prepared out plates and made small talk as we did. Debra told us that Ellie was completing her Masters degree in grad school, she was doing well at work, Linda said we were doing well but her boss was being a bit of a bitch, and so on. Debra caught me up on the doings of old friends. Dinner was delicious, as always -- my wife is an excellent cook! We were finishing up when Linda said, “We wanted to talk to you about something.”

Debra said, “Let me start, Linda, okay? I think my story is the strangest, and if I don’t tell it now I probably won’t be able to tell it at all.”

Linda nodded, and Debra began, “So, Halloween night I had this dream...” She paused, searching for something, words, or courage, or what, I wasn’t sure. She continued. “ ... This is kind of hard to say. So, in this dream, an angel came to me, white wings, amazing eyes you could see eternity and rainbows in, and she looked at me like she was so incredibly disappointed in me. I felt so ashamed for whatever it was she thought I did, no, whatever it was I did, even though I didn’t know what it was. She spoke to me with this voice that was so beautiful and clear it ... and she told me ... she told me I was supposed to have... supposed to have had your baby, but I had the hysterectomy too early!”

“Um...” I said, the soul of articulate wit.

“I knew we were supposed to have a baby when we got married! Remember, I said I’d have your baby when you proposed! When I had the fibroids, I just thought ... maybe I’d been wrong, but I wasn’t! I wasn’t! I’m so sorry!”

“Um, okay, wait now! This was a dream, right? I think you may be taking this too hard! Deb, you had fibroids, they weren’t going to just go away. They were causing you problems and pain. I was there, remember?”

“But it wasn’t bad. I could have had it removed without doing the whole hysterectomy. They’d come back eventually, but I could have had a baby before that happened.”

“Deb, you made the right decision for you at the time. It’s okay. You shouldn’t feel guilty about this!”

“David, look, this wasn’t just a dream. I can’t explain. I feel this to my core. I messed up some kind of divine plan.”

“Deb, I ... look, it’s not like we can go back in time. It’s not like we could have a baby now. Even Linda and I can’t now, even if you had eggs frozen or something. I mean, you don’t, do you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Linda said, “It’s my turn now. I’ve been having really serious baby cravings in the last couple of weeks, too. Debra didn’t mention that she was having baby cravings. We both are feeling it, really badly, really powerfully. We can’t actually carry a child, but ... there may be a way.”

“What, like a surrogate? We don’t have the money, babe, and we don’t have eggs even if we did.”

“We were thinking...” Linda started, then looked at Debra.

“We were thinking Ellie,” Debra said.

“What?“ I exclaimed. “Babe, she’s my daughter!” Oops, I’d called the wrong woman ‘babe’ in my consternation. Both women ignored the slip. I think.

“She’s your step-daughter,” said Debra firmly. “And she loves you, and she’s getting older. She hasn’t found a guy she wants to be with, yet. She loves you. And she’ll be home for Christmas.”

“Uh, look, I don’t know, even if she wanted to, this is kind of crazy. I mean, we still can’t afford to go through IVF. I don’t know how anyone we know would take the news that she was having my baby! I mean, it would be kinda weird if we had some of either of your eggs to do it with, but we don’t, and doing it with her eggs is just ... I can’t even consider this! And have you even asked her?”

“Not yet. But we’re pretty sure she’d agree.”

“You’re ‘pretty sure she’d agree.’” I said, like a mountain had vanished under my feet. “What, exactly, are you wanting me to do?”

They looked at each other for a few moments. “About that? Nothing,” said Debra.

“Right now,” added Linda. “Right now, we want something else.”

“What?” I asked, my mind whirling.

They both stood, and walked over to me. My wife reached for my belt as my ex-wife reached for the buttons on my shirt. Both began unfastening.