Chapter 4

This was all a bunch of bald-faced lies of course—I had been as horny that previous time we fucked as I’d ever been in my life. But I didn’t think Jen could possibly have accumulated enough evidence from that encounter to know for sure, one way or the other. And I thought this might be the best way to draw her out.

Jen was silent for a minute, looking at me, thinking. I knew this appeal would not have flown with her the first time, not in the slightest. It might have put her off the whole enterprise. But things were a bit different now: she had experienced physical arousal with me; I had been inside her; my seed had filled her womb. Even if she didn’t think of our previous coupling as erotic, exactly, it had had a physical intimacy that went far beyond friendship. Moreover, some part of Jen was undeniably looking forward to sex with me again (even as another part of her denied that fact). That single glance at my dick spoke volumes. And perhaps most important, she had come through that experience OK—sex with me had not ruined her, nor corrupted her relationship with Pete. She had made a certain peace with what she was doing, and why. Taking one more step closer to me, metaphorically speaking, was less terrifying now.

At last she spoke, dragging out the words slightly: “I guess that’s fair ... I know this isn’t easy on you either James. And I am grateful ... so, how can I help you?”

“To start with ... could you remove your bra? ... You know, kind of as a way of showing that we’re both really committed to making this child together, and not holding ourselves back?” As I said this, I stepped close to Jen and reached around her shoulders as if to unhook her. She took a step back and I froze. She looked at me a minute, making up her mind, and then reached back herself, unfastening the bra and letting it fall off her shoulders. Her gaze continued to meet mine. I hate to admit it, but I glanced down—how could I not? For years I’d wondered what her tits looked like, and now at last I could find out. Her shoulders were a freckled golden-white, but below her delicate clavicle, where she got less sun, the inviting expanse of her chest faded to a milky hue. Her breasts themselves were not large, but had a nice heft—C cup or thereabouts, I figured. They had a graceful hang to them, at any rate: emerging in a long arc from above, before returning with a more spherical line below. The nipples were delightful—good-sized rose-pink areolas, puffy, so that they formed a soft dome at the tip of each breast. I decided that it had been well worth the effort to get her entirely naked.

I waited a moment, so as to be sure that the cameras had a good chance to capture Jennifer’s entirely naked form. Then, without saying anything, I stepped closer again, and reached out to caress her nipples, lightly—first one, and then both. Jen did not flinch, but just remained in place and closed her eyes. Was she imagining Pete’s fingers running over her skin? I didn’t know. But she seemed to accept that this intimacy was a part of how things were going to go this time, part of ‘getting us both prepared.’ I stroked the topsides, from the edge of the areola to the nipple, gently, and after a while reversed the process and stroked the undersides. The nipples hardened, becoming less puffy and more prominent.

Jen licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and breathed a little more deeply as I continued to stroke her nipples, massaging them in a circular motion, ever so gently, and with a gradually rising tempo. Her breathing was becoming a bit raspy, and her face had a calm expression, suffused by a creeping flush. With her eyes still closed, I figured it was safe to take a thirsty, lingering glance downward. I saw that her chest was rising faster and higher, and her nipples were becoming a bright red.

At last, with a tinge of regret, I released her tits, and moved to lay out Taylor’s yoga mat on my table. (I’d been careful to check that it was plenty sturdy enough, of course, earlier that day.) Jen’s eyes fluttered open and an expression of slight anxiety returned to her face as she turned her head to watch me. “I do think another massage would be in order,” I said quietly. Silently, she moved in response. She put one knee on the table, and leveraged herself up onto it, poised briefly on all-fours before lowering down to a prone position, face down. I loved how her breasts squeezed out at the sides under the weight of her body.

I was better prepared this time, and poured some warming massage oil onto her back. Then, suddenly, I froze—God, how stupid I’d been! There was no shower in the administration building. How was she going to clean herself up? “Oh, uh ... Jen, I just realized, maybe you don’t want me to use the oil, so it will be easier to clean up afterwards?”

Turns out she was a few steps ahead of me. “Don’t worry James,” she replied, in a voice that was serene and slightly detached. “I told Pete I was going to the salon for a massage after teaching today ... He said he’d take care of dinner ... I’ve got some sweats to put on, and after I go to the salon, there won’t be any evidence.”

God, it was almost too rich. Here I was, fucking and impregnating Pete’s wife, while he was at home in the kitchen, cooking dinner for her to eat once she was done taking my seed. Sometimes life is wonderful!

I did a much deeper and more thorough job of the massage this time, prepared for it as I was. Her skin was already soft and supple, and the oil gave it a delightful sheen. For a while I worked her neck, shoulders, arms, shoulder blades, lower-back, calves, thighs, ass. Then, as before, I began exploring the space between her thighs; and this time she deliberately parted her legs several inches to give me better access. Her skin took on a delicate pink glow as the combination of oil, contact, and desire warmed her. At last: “Jen, turn over and I’ll massage your front.”

She hesitated momentarily, and then complied, without resistance or comment. Having her naked form laid out flat on the table, entirely available to me, was exhilarating. Her eyes remained closed, her face expressionless, but between ruddy lips her mouth was open slightly, her breathing easily discerned. (Needless to say, I was breathing pretty hard by this point too.) Looking downward I was gratified to see that Jen’s legs remained parted. Her pussy lips were just as flushed as those on her face, and they gaped open slightly to expose more of her clit. It was hard to see how Jen could maintain any illusion, now, that this was a clinical encounter, or that she was doing only the ‘bare minimum’ necessary to get the job done. No, she had exposed herself to me fully, completely, from head, to glorious tits, to pussy, to toes. Of course, what she didn’t know was that my cameras were perfectly positioned to soak up the view for posterity as well.

I rubbed oil over Jen’s sternum, her jiggly, elastic breasts, and her taut abdomen. I began working my hands over her pubic bone and then plunged down between her thighs. Her breathing continued to rise in speed and intensity. My fingers lightly traced the inner edges of her pussy lips, urging them, through a combination of sensation and pressure, to spread ever wider for me. I circled the opening to her cunt, feeling it twitch with each brush of my fingertips. Then I moved to her generous clit, stroking it a few times, before beginning to manipulate it with my fingers, using slow, rhythmic, circular motions. I could feel it engorge, as I ever so gradually increased my pace and pressure. Notch by notch, her legs inched themselves further open, seemingly involuntarily. I was pretty sure, however, that I also saw her steal a few slit-eyed glances at my cock, which was sticking out straight over the table, bobbing as I moved to caress her body, and periodically contacting the table’s edge with a chilly tap. She was very wet now, and I began darting my finger an inch or so into her cunt. It was so relaxed that I tried two fingers, index and middle, and they easily slipped in up to the second knuckle. Especially for a woman who had never given birth, this was as clear a signal as I could expect to receive: she was ready and eager to be fucked.

And that meant it was time for another big ask. “Jen,” I said, gently and slowly, “I think your body is ready...”

She nodded, eyes still closed, and murmured “mh hmm...”

“But I’m not sure I’m quite ready yet ... We’ll have the best chance of making a baby, if I’m fully revved up too ... I think you should use your mouth to get me ready.”

Jen’s eyes fluttered open, startled, and fresh anxiety played across her face. I felt her vagina tense around my fingers. I hoped I hadn’t just killed the mood. She glanced at me, and then at my dick, and I almost wished it wasn’t so goddamn hard, so that my story would be a little more plausible. Eyes still on my penis, she stuttered slightly, and bit her lip fetchingly, before finally mustering some words “James, God ... I ... I don’t know ... I think maybe that’s a line we shouldn’t cross.”

I removed my fingers from inside her body and returned to rubbing her clit with slow, firm circles. I spoke confidently, assertively, but gently. “I know you Jen. You’ve never done anything half-assed in your life. We’ve got to approach this the same way. We shouldn’t be doing it at all unless we are both really committed to the process. We owe it to ourselves, to this future baby, to do it right. The way nature meant for it to be.” Withdrawing my hand from between her legs, I took a pace back and stood there silently, looking her full in the face.

She didn’t connect with my gaze. Her eyes remained riveted on my crotch, as her brain spun, clearly trying to process a kaleidoscope of ideas and emotions. Ultimately, I think it was all just too much for her to process, and she decided to go along with my urging and the needs of the moment, while leaving any larger implications unresolved. She sat up on the edge of the table, her breasts settling slightly, elegantly, on her chest as they again felt the force of gravity. Easing off, she knelt down in front of me (I gave thanks the office was carpeted), and simply looked at my cock for a long minute. It twitched slightly with each pulse of my pounding heart. At last, she reached up with her hands to grasp the base, and cradle my balls. Lingeringly, she brought her face closer to the throbbing head. Finally, with an evident mix of reluctance and desire, she parted her lips just slightly, and took the very tip into her mouth.

For a moment she was frozen. It was as if an electrical circuit had been completed when her lips made contact with my cock, and she was riveted in place. I longed to crush her head to my groin, and force my dick deep down her throat. However, I knew that this had to be her choice, and to proceed at her pace. After a slow beat, she opened her mouth wider and took in the entire head, sucking on it gently and massaging it sensually with her tongue. Then she sucked in still more, two or three inches, and began moving slowly and rhythmically, in and out, while continuing to grasp my shaft and fondle my testicles. My breath caught as I looked down and saw her kneeling at my feet, tits swaying and bouncing slightly, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, flaxen hair bobbing, hands cradling me gently, while her swollen lips made room for my cock to thrust between them. The view from above was breathtaking; but I’d also positioned myself carefully so that, in the years to come, I would have plenty of other good camera angles from which to view the action as well.

After a while I put my hands on the sides of her head, gently guiding her pace to match mine, and urging her to allow me in more deeply, while my pelvis began thrusting carefully towards her. She did not take in my entire length, by any means, but soon I was 4 or 5 inches inside, and could enjoy the sensation of my glans running over the rough at the back of her tongue. It was hard to know what she was thinking, but I sensed that her attention had become centered on my cock, and perhaps on the knowledge that it was soon to be the instrument of her impregnation, and that she was enjoying the intimacy and tingle of mutual desire.

At last I gently removing my cock from between her lips. They remained parted and pouty, as she opened her eyes and looked up at me, inquiringly, through her lashes. Without speaking, I bent over slightly, grasped her shoulders, and raised her to her feet. Then, putting my hands on her hips, I lifted her to sit on the mat, at the edge of the table. Putting one hand behind her back and the other on her chestbone, I helped her recline to a prone position, with her legs still hanging off the table.

This was the moment it had all been building to in my mind—the moment when she would open herself to me completely. I’m sure she had planned that I would fuck her from behind again, and thus maintain the pretense of distance between us. But I intended to be looking her in the eyes at the moment when my semen gushed into her womb. Caught up in the emotion and primal urgency of this moment, she made no move to resist. Reaching under her thighs, I lifted her legs up and spread them, so that one calf rested on each of my shoulders. Physically, the break to suck my dick had disrupted her momentum slightly—at least, she didn’t seem quite as wet and relaxed as when I’d been fingering her earlier. But mentally and emotionally she had lowered the last barriers and was ready to give her body over to me. Looking down I saw that her pussy lips were spread wide, her meaty clit was engorged, and her cunt gaped open slightly. This happily married professional woman had made peace with the idea of allowing her body to be shared with another man, opened to him in every way possible, made available for his possession and insemination.

I placed the tip of my cock between the folds of her pussy and pressed just slightly. She sucked in an audible breath and flinched briefly when she felt me enter her cunt, before relaxing again. I began flexing my calves and thighs, exerting a slow, steady pressure which drove me gradually, inexorably inside her. Jen’s saliva still glistened along my shaft, helping to ease my way deeper into her. In her persona of good wife, I’m sure she would have preferred to preserve at least a veneer of disinterest; but in this moment she found such a pretense impossible to maintain. I saw her head raise up, so that her eyes could gaze in fascination, heavy lidded, down the length of her body. I could only imagine what she was thinking—seeing her hard red nipples and jostling tits pointed skyward, her toned midriff accordioned slightly as I pressed upward into her ass and crotch, her legs splayed wildly, her honey-colored pubes laid bare, the junction where her pussy lips, red and engorged, spread wide to accept me, and the hard, veined purple pole of my cock slowly inching inside her body. I was sure I had a camera placed over her shoulder that would let me see, later, what it was she was experiencing in this moment of surrender.