13 comments/ 28574 views/ 4 favorites A Baby For Maria By: Gale82 1 I remember every detail of that morning. It was one of the dark days of early December; the rain was beating against the windows of the bedroom, driven by a cold north-west wind, and Sam and I were huddled together beneath the covers. It was that 'just-five-minutes-more' that seems to be the most satisfying part of a good night's sleep, and we wanted to make the most of it. Just a few seconds before the snooze function on the radio alarm completed its task, I felt the soft touch of lips caressing the side of my neck. "No you don't!" I insisted, "We've both got a long day ahead!" Pushing the covers back, I swung my feet out of the bed and was relieved to be able to locate my slippers because, no matter how good the laminated flooring that Sam had installed might look, it could be damned cold underfoot first thing in the morning. Not for the first time, I made a mental note to buy a rug. "Right, then..." I said, stretching and yawning, well aware that Sam was gazing lustfully at my naked body, "I'm having a quick shower. I'll only have time for a coffee and a slice of toast before I go. If you want anything, you'll have to help yourself... okay?" There was the sound of a grunt, the shapeless form of the covers moved, and then there was the sound of deep, regular breathing. "Do not go back to sleep!" I shouted, "You've got appointments this morning!" And I gave a hearty slap to where I correctly guessed Sam's buttocks would be. "Ow! You've got a heavy hand, y'know?" Sam's voice whined as I headed into the bathroom. By the time I'd showered and dressed there was still no sign of any movement from the bed but, as I stepped towards it, I heard: "Don't hit me again! I'm awake. Don't worry... I'll be there on time." "Okay," I smiled, "make sure you are." And then, as I leaned over for a parting kiss, I heard the words that were going to have such a huge impact on our futures. "We've been together long enough now, Maria... it's time we had a baby." "But... I mean... I don't know, Sam... I...." "Think about it, Maria," Sam whispered. "It's what we need to bind us properly together... it's the only thing that's missing from our lives. I want you to have a baby... soon. Just think it over, Maria... just think about it." Well, not surprisingly, I did think about. I thought about it a lot. For most of that day at the gymnasium where I worked, I thought about it -- and the next day, and the day after that. I just hoped that the often overweight and out-of--condition ladies who expected me to turn them into irresistible sex-kittens didn't notice my distracted mood. For the most part, it was middle-aged females who required me to set and supervise their programmes and suggest sensible diets, and they paid handsomely for the privilege. So I never could understand why, after a good session in the gym, most of them seemed to head straight for the Starbucks across the road for coffee and cakes. There were some, mainly young office workers, who were more serious, wanting to keep fit for their various sports or, more often I guess, for their husbands. Like sugar in a cup, fat on females tends to settle on the bottom, and that was what I was most often asked to help with. Very few males, I'd found, wanted a female to direct their programmes and there were two other trainers to look after them. Mind you, that didn't stop either the bodybuilders or the young executives who were trying to stave off their potential coronaries from trying to hit on me. I suppose it's not too surprising, because I do cut a pretty impressive figure. As a quick sketch; I'm 5'9" and I weigh 150lbs -- much of it muscle. My figure, I'd probably describe as 'lithe;' small breasts, flat stomach and narrow hips. I also have powerful arms and legs which might have taken me into the international volleyball team -- had it not been for a broken wrist that received poor treatment from an incompetent surgeon and took the best part of two-and-a-half years to mend properly. So I received a lot of passes from male clients at the gym -- and even one or two from females -- but it was never a problem. I had Sam. I wasn't interested in anyone else and, as it wasn't hard to see, I could take care of myself pretty well. But if anything did happen that was a bit much for me to handle, I knew I could always rely on Blake or Mike -- the other two trainers -- to help me out. So, I liked my job. It didn't pay a fortune, but the money was okay and I was normally pretty wrapped up in it. That day, though, the talk of a baby had disturbed me. It wasn't something I'd thought about very much but, as I was closing in on 30, I knew Sam had a point. If we were going to have a baby, we'd have to do something about it fairly soon. There were problems about it, of course. To begin with, Sam is not the patient type. If I agreed, I had the feeling that it would be seen as a project that needed to be started immediately. Okay, I had a think about that and realised I could live with it as long as I took enough time to be certain about it first. Financially, there was no problem. Sam was a very good lawyer and an extremely high-earner -- my contribution to the household wouldn't be missed. The major sticking point, however, was that Sam wasn't capable of making me pregnant! So even when I'd thought it all through and tried to consider everything about the differences a child might make to our lives -- both the positives and the negatives -- I still had no idea what kind of plan Sam would come up with. I have to give Sam credit for the fact that there was no further mention of the idea (unless I raised it) and no pressure placed on me while I thought about it. It was, after all a human life that we were talking about, not something that could be taken lightly in any way whatsoever, and I didn't want to rush into a decision. I needed to be certain that it would be the best thing for Sam, for me and, most of all, for the child. It was early January before my thoughts finally came to a conclusion. Sam was delighted -- but I was a long way from celebrating when the 'plan of action' was revealed. Sam was absolutely adamant that it was to be done 'naturally.' Once again, I insisted on time to think about it because, for me, what Sam actually proposed would be an enormous step. I'm a long way from being a prude; in fact there had been a time -- just after my dreams of sporting glory had been lost -- when I'd 'slept around' a bit. Actually, I'd better qualify that; I'd had three one-night stands when I'd been drunk enough not to care, and that was over the course of a year. I'd then had a four-month relationship with a guy who'd become gradually more abusive and increasingly violent. It ended when he went too far (slapping my face when I refused to wear a slutty dress so he could show me off to his friends) and a single punch dumped him on his ass with a broken nose. When the idiot tried to sue me for damages, a friend recommended Sam. The case was thrown out of court and the rest, as they say, is history. Sam and I became friends, started dating, became lovers and, eventually, moved in together. Or, rather, I moved into Sam's beautiful home. It was Sam who found me the job at the gym (the owner was a client) and I had never known such contentment. The idea that I would now have to have sex with a strange man -- in the hope of being impregnated -- was a horrific one. Sam was all that I wanted: a generous and loving partner, an exciting, inventive and adventurous lover and, being a good bit older and much wiser than me, someone I was constantly learning from. Ultimately, it was the increasing desire I felt to have a child of my own, even more than the feeling that I owed so much to Sam that I couldn't refuse, that finally made me reach a decision to agree. It was on the condition, naturally enough, that Sam was absolutely and completely positive about it and then, the decision having been made, everything seemed to go quiet for a while. It wasn't mentioned again and, although there were times when it felt as if it might all have been put to one side, I had no doubt that it was because Sam was making meticulous plans to achieve our aim. But, even though I was expecting it, it still took me by surprise when it began to happen. ** 2 It was a beautiful spring morning; one of those when there's an early-morning frost that glistens in the pale sunlight as if someone has spread millions of tiny sequins across the countryside. There was no rush to get up; Sundays are for resting from work and Sam and I always tried to spend as much of them together as we possibly could. The night before, I'd cooked us a meal of beef, oyster and ale pie with fresh vegetables accompanied by a wine -- chosen by Sam -- that was a perfect complement to it. We'd then had the best part of half-a-bottle of Calvados with the home-made apple sorbet -- and I'm pretty sure my glass had been filled up far more often than Sam's. After that, there'd been Irish coffees (Sam's speciality) and, although I didn't actually have a hangover in the morning, I was light-headed enough to know that I'd probably been a little bit drunk. I remembered the love-making. The memory of that came back to me as soon as I became conscious. It had been such a gentle exploration of our bodies -- of every inch of flesh -- with fingertips and tongues. There had been the deceptively slow rise that raised the senses and emotions in perfect symmetry; the eagerness held in check until, unable to be contained any further, the cascading harmonies of rapture left us both helpless and exhausted -- our arms entwined and legs entangled until we fell into a deep and restful sleep. It had seemed impossible that either of us could have escaped from that embrace without disturbing the other being aware of it but, as I soon discovered, Sam had not only succeeded in that but had also managed to shower, dress and depart without disturbing me at all. I only became aware of it when I turned over and found that, instead of my partner's head, the pillow next to mine was occupied by an A4-sized white envelope. I stared at it with considerable apprehension, seeing my name written on it in Sam's beautiful script and, even in the comforting warmth of our bed, I shivered. I was fairly sure what kind of thing I would find in it and knew that its contents would soon dispel the wonderful memory of the previous night. Delaying the moment, I left it where it was while I showered, made myself a coffee and then, wearing only my dressing gown, returned to the bed to open it. The top sheet, handwritten said: My darling Maria, I have made the necessary arrangements. If there is anything -- anything at all - that prevents or deters you from carrying out this task, please shred the contents of this envelope and we'll talk about it again when I return. I will be in New York for the next few days, which is probably for the best because I don't want to be there to put any extra pressure on you. Whatever you decide, I will accept and will, of course, love you more with every day that passes. And it was signed with the usual flourish and postscripted with our answer to how much we loved one another -- MTY, NAMAT (More than yesterday, not as much as tomorrow). The second sheet (typed) began; I'm sure you're well aware; as I am that you will be at the optimum time for becoming pregnant within the next few days. I hope you may agree that this is a good time to work on our plan. If you're still willing to go through with this for us, you will need to follow the instructions set out below. If you are not, then please send me a text before this evening so that I can put the arrangements on hold. I've informed the gym that you have to travel with me for a few days and the lads there are happy to cover for you. Travel arrangements: 1)A taxi will be outside our home tomorrow morning at 10:30 to take you to the airport. 2)The check-in time for your flight is no later than 1145 -- take off at1230. 3)Your flight will arrive in Nice at 1430. 4)You will be met at the Nice airport by a man holding a sign with the name 'Maria Bentley' on it. (this will be the name you'll use until your return flight) 5)The car that picks you up will also pick up your temporary partner along the way. 6)You will be driven to the Radisson Blu Hôtel on the Promenade des Anglais where you will sign in as Mr & Mrs Bentley. (I've stayed there -- it's excellent!) 7)You are both booked in to the hotel for 4 nights. 8)When you leave, the same car and driver will pick you up. The man will be dropped off along the way and it will take you to the airport. 9)All of the above have been paid for in advance. 10)The man has been given more than sufficient funds to cover all other expenses (Under no circumstances are you to use your own cards for anything -- the envelope in the hall contains a bundle of Euros in case you need anything -- as well as your passport. You will, of course, check in for the return flight under your own name. The Man: 1. His name is Matthew -- known as Matty. 2. He is someone I happen to know a great deal about (although he knows nothing of my involvement in this). 3. I can guarantee that he does not have any STDs (Sorry to be so basic, but it is important!) 4. I can also guarantee that he will treat you with all due respect. 5. He does not know who you are or anything about you -- other than that you are a young lady who needs to have a baby. 6. He knows that he has been hired by a lawyer -- but believes it to be one by the name of EJH McDonald from Canada. 7. His motives for accepting this are worthy -- he has a relative that he cares about dearly who needs very expensive medical care. His fee will more than cover it. Emergencies: If you decide to go ahead with what I've arranged, I am hoping that I won't be hearing from you until your return flight touches down (I never thought I'd be writing those words to you, my beautiful Maria!), because I'm hoping you'll be able to relax, put me out of your mind, and enjoy yourself. I will be tied up a lot of the time in meetings etc., so I won't always be able to take calls. However, if -- for any reason whatsoever -- you decide that you're not able to go through with this, simply call it off immediately. That applies at any point in the proceedings. Simply call and leave a message on my voicemail if I'm not available. If that happens, do not feel guilty about depriving the man of his financial reward. As long as he is not the direct cause of the cancellation, I will ensure that he still receives the fee. Returning: If all goes according to schedule -- and there's no reason why it shouldn't -- I will be home on Thursday night. By the time you arrive on Friday afternoon I should have slept off my jetlag and be able to greet you properly. I will not question or cross-examine you! I hope you will tell me whether or not everything has gone well. Other than that, I will leave it entirely up to you to decide how much, or how little, of the experience you wish to share with me. At the foot of that sheet, there was, as I'd expected, a reaffirmation of life-long love. My eyes were filling up by the time I finished reading -- strange tears that came from an overwhelming sense of love, a fear of what I might be doing over the next few days (and nights!), and a certain feeling of resentment that the responsibility was mine. "Damn you," I muttered under my breath, thinking that it was very well for Sam to make the practical arrangements, but it was me -- my body -- that was going to have to carry them out. For a moment or two I felt resentful about it all, but I lay back on the pillow and those thoughts were pushed, slowly, from my mind, by the realisation that the true motive was one of love and commitment to each other. I dozed for a little while and then, rising again, I began to work out my own practicalities. For example, what clothes should I pack? If I dressed too conservatively might I, given my build, prove a bit intimidating? (It had been known to happen!) But if I dressed more provocatively, would I end up looking like some desperate tart and put him off anyway? Was I expected to be loving or just seductive -- or both? And what would happen if, despite Sam's assurances, I found the man unpleasant or even repulsive? Or what if he found that he didn't fancy me at all? For most of that Sunday I was virtually frozen into immobility by the numerous fears and doubts that, despite Sam's careful and elaborate planning, simply wouldn't go away. Okay, I did finally manage to pack a holdall -- but that was as much for the sake of something to occupy my mind as anything else. I made myself a salad -- which I ate without enthusiasm -- and a mug of hot chocolate at bedtime that went cold when I fell asleep reading, and re-reading Sam's instructions. And that, apart from worrying and finding more and more things to worry about, was about all I achieved throughout that wasted day and restless night. ** 3 The airport, the wonderfully named Nice - Côte d'Azur, was extremely busy and my minimal knowledge of French (barely-remembered from schooldays), struggled to keep up with the announcements. Eventually, I found the baggage carousel to retrieve my holdall, received a 'friendly' wink from a customs officer and, a minute or two later, spotted the man holding a card with my assumed name on it. He was elderly, small and so thin it seemed a breeze could probably lift him off his feet -- but he hauled my bag into the boot of the Mercedes with no apparent effort. The sunshine was dazzling, even filtered through my sunglasses, and I was grateful for the air-conditioning in the car. The driver, even though I wasn't entirely convinced that he could see much above the dashboard, drove at speed for a few minutes until he suddenly swerved and screeched to a halt in front of the Novotel Nice Arenas just opposite the airport. It was noticeable that he didn't offer any assistance to the second passenger (assistance only offered to females, apparently!). I heard a case being deposited alongside mine in the back. Then the door opened to let a blast of warm air come in, along with a young man who was both tall and broad. He turned to me as we set off again and gave a slightly shy smile. "Hi... I'm Matty," he said, "...and unless you're Maria, I've jumped into the wrong car." That made me smile, too, and I recognised the faint trace of what I thought was an Australian accent (it actually turned out to be a New Zealand one, which he was a little bit sensitive about) and one of my fears was eliminated as I realised that I definitely didn't find him repulsive. He was younger than I'd expected -- certainly younger than me -- and good-looking in a boyish sort of way. He was clearly very nervous (that made two of us) and the conversation on the short ride to the hotel was a bit stilted because I think we were both wary about not revealing much about our backgrounds. He was confident enough at the hotel when we went to book in, although that evaporated when the desk clerk, as a matter of form, asked to examine our passports. Fortunately, another clerk had been primed in advance and he stepped forward to take charge; our passports were barely glanced at and we were able to sign in as 'Mr & Mrs Bentley.' The nerves set in again when we reached what was a very good room -- a 'Senior Suite' as it was called -- with plenty of space, a terrace with a view over the promenade and... well... a very large bed that we both tried to avoid looking at! Left to ourselves, we did everything except refer to the reason for being there; we checked out the terrace, had a look at the bathroom, and examined the chairs until, finally, Matty said, in a very nervous voice: A Baby For Maria "So... Maria... what should we do next?" It was exactly what I'd been wondering, but I'd thought about it and I suggested; "Errm... well, how about a bit of sunbathing? Apparently there's a swimming pool on the rooftop... fancy taking a look?" Each of us took turns to use the bathroom to change -- me into a pale green bikini that wasn't too revealing -- while he donned swimming shorts and carried our towels. The view from the rooftop was spectacular -- a wonderful panorama of the Promenade des Anglais spread out below us. We began to relax and took a turn in the pool before retiring to sunbeds where Matty suddenly hauled out some sun cream. "Sorry... but I'm a bit paranoid about sunburn," he told me. Actually, I was too; but my nervousness was probably responsible for the fact that my sunscreen was still on the dressing table of our room. "No problem," he smiled, "there's plenty here for both of us," when I suggested I should go for it, and then; "I'll do your back if you'll do mine." My stomach seemed to lurch at the realisation that we were going to make our first physical contact (We hadn't even shaken hands in the taxi!) but I recovered well enough to say; "Okay... I'll do yours first." "But...." He began to say. "It's your stuff," I interrupted, "So you get it first." "Jeez! No one told me you were the bossy type!" he complained with a grin, but turned over onto his stomach. "That's right!" I laughed, "Don't bother arguing... I'm a woman!" "Well... yeah," he said quietly, "I definitely noticed that!" Fortunately, he wasn't looking at me as he spoke, because I'm pretty sure I blushed. "Cool it, Romeo!" I grinned, letting a large helping of cold sun cream drop onto his back and making him yelp. He grew quiet as I gently massaged it onto his skin, noting that his muscles were in good shape and the blonde hairs were smooth and silky. I put more on the back of his legs and spread it very carefully along the sides, making sure that I didn't get too close to where the hem of his shorts met bare flesh. Eventually, I stopped and said "Okay... my turn now." "Errm... d'you mind if I just hang on for a second or two?" he asked and, when I wasn't sure what he was asking that for, explained, "It might be a little... errm... embarrassing if I turn over right now! You've got a very sensual touch, y'know!" Now that statement took me so much by surprise that my jaw dropped for a moment or two -- then I laughed and gave him a playful slap on his backside that made him yelp and, since there was no sign of wobbling flesh, also told me that he was in pretty good physical condition. For a moment, it caused a fleeting image of Sam to leap into my head but I tried, as I'd been told to, to put it out of my mind. "Okay... your turn now!" Matty told me as he finally lifted himself from the sunbed. I turned over and settled down while his strong fingers began to ply back and forth across my shoulders, amazed at how similar his touch felt to the way Sam's fingers had massaged me less than 48 hours earlier. Matty, of course, couldn't have known that my shoulders -- along with various unexpected parts of my body -- often acted as erogenous zones for me. It was, if it's not too much of an oxymoron, a relaxing stimulation. He took his time over it, especially when he was doing the backs and sides of my legs, and he ventured a good deal nearer to a more obvious erogenous area than I'd dared to do with him. For a second, when he applied it to my upper thighs and his fingers seemed to brush the lower hem of my bikini pants, I almost protested -- but then I remembered what we were there for, and held my peace. We lay face down for a while then turned over (each applying their own sun cream this time) and had a little longer in the gradually cooling sunshine. Then it was a final plunge in the pool before returning to our room. As I showered, I wasn't quite sure what was meant to happen next. I mean, it was obvious that we were meant to begin what we were there for -- that Matty was supposed to fuck me sometime that night - but I'd no idea whether he'd take the initiative or if that would be left to me or... what? After drying myself, I decided to just cover myself with the dark blue, silk dressing gown I'd brought with me and, when I emerged, found that Matty appeared to have done much the same. We'd eaten a light dinner ( a gorgeous shellfish risotto) in the hotel's Bleu Citron restaurant accompanied by just a single glass of white wine because I wanted to keep a clear head if, as I suspected we might, we were going to talk. We'd ordered two 'chocolat chaud,' and they were ready and waiting for us to imbibe their million or so calories as we enjoyed the delicate hint of nutmeg, almond and cinnamon that made them very different to the ones I was used to at home. As we relaxed with them there was a long silence before Matty finally opened the conversation with: "You're not married, are you?" "Errm... no... not exactly," I replied hesitantly. "So... why the need for a baby?" he asked bluntly. "You don't need to know that!" I answered, far more sharply than I'd intended to and, seeing that it seemed to have stung him a bit; I reached out and gently touched his arm as I added, much more softly: "Look... Matty... I'll tell you what I can... which isn't very much. But you'll have to accept it and not ask for more. Please?" He paused, and then gave an uncertain nod, so I went on: "I'm nearly 30. I'm in a long-term, hopefully lifelong, relationship. My partner isn't able to give me the baby that we both want... no... it really isn't possible," I added when I saw he was about to question that. "Anyway, this has all been arranged through a very clever lawyer... and that's why we're here. And that's about all I can tell you, really. Honestly... I can't say much more... I'm sorry." "That's okay, I guess," he admitted after thinking it over for a while, "Its more or less what I'd been told. What d'you know about me?" "Well... other than the fact that your name's Matty... Oh... and you have no STDs... nothing, really!" I grinned and he burst out laughing. "Jeez! You know less than I do!" he retorted and then, after a moment to think, told me: "Okay... I'm 24 years old. I was an adopted child... I've no idea who my real parents were and I don't care. The folks who brought me up were always mum and dad -- and always will be. Dad passed away when I was in my early teens and mum is not in a good way at the moment. "I was married to my childhood sweetheart when we were both 18... but she was killed in a car crash less than a year later." I went to say something, but he brushed it aside with: "Nothing you can say... don't try. Anyway... there hasn't been anyone since...." Now that did surprise me because he was a good-looking bloke, and I guess my surprise must have shown because he grinned and went on: "Only my own hand of course!" which must have made me look even more shocked at his honesty and openness, because his grin became even wider as he went on; "But even that stopped a few weeks ago when I was offered this... errm... job? Partly because I wanted to make sure I was giving of my best because the reward is... well... substantial; and partly just in case it was someone who didn't appeal to me very much, y'know?" Then he blushed slightly as he added, "I needn't have bothered about that as it happens!" I gave a nervous and slightly embarrassed smile as I acknowledged the compliment and thanked him for it, but then he suddenly became serious. "Jeez! D'you know how guilty I feel about taking money for...?" "Don't!" I commanded, and then, summoning up the most wicked look I could manage and raising an eyebrow, I added: "Just make sure you're worth it!" "Fu...!" he began and then, realising that I was teasing," Hmm... looks like I'm going to have to earn every penny!" We both laughed, probably for longer than the exchange merited. Then we looked at our empty glasses. There was nothing more to be said. Slowly and very deliberately I stood and walked over to the huge bed, not even sure that my trembling legs would carry me that far. Turning my back to Matty, I undid the tie-fastening of my silk gown and let it slide gently to the floor. Then I held my breath and waited. Behind me, I heard the glass doors to our balcony being closed, then the swish of the curtains closing. A second later the room was plunged into semi-darkness as the main light was switched off and, the covers having been turned down in readiness, I slipped beneath them, finally releasing a breath that I seemed to have been holding for ever. I turned onto my right side as Matty climbed in beside me and, at first, there was a gap of at least a foot between us. I'd noticed, of course, that he was naked (which made me feel a little uncomfortable about having left my panties on) and seen that he was sporting what appeared to be a very solid erection. My experience of such things was actually surprisingly limited for a near-thirty year old single woman I think but, from that limited experience, I would judge him to be 'average' in size -- not that it mattered in the least. Virtually all of my previous lovers would have been described the same way -- the only exception being the violent one who was way beyond average, thought it made him special enough not to have to try to please his partner, and got very upset when I didn't mightily praise his magnificent instrument. Matty propped his head up on his hand and looked at me, examining my face carefully. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked gently. I didn't really want to speak. I was thinking of Sam, thousands of miles away in New York, so I just moved a little closer while Matty did the same and, by way of reply, kissed his lips very softly. Very carefully, as if neither of us had ever done something like it before, we manoeuvred our arms around each other and kissed again. The kisses remained tender, although slightly more intense until his right hand moved down to my breast, delicately brushing his fingertips over the nipple and then clasping it in the warm palm of his hand. We continued to kiss and cuddle like that for what seemed an age and, though I felt the stirrings of arousal, I was too distracted by thoughts of Sam to really give myself over to what was happening. Eventually, realising that Matty was probably too nervous to take the next step, I reached down to his groin, carefully wrapped my fingers around his erection, and was surprised to feel him flinch at my touch. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Sorry," he replied, "It's just that it's been a very long time... and it wouldn't take anything at all to... errm... set me off... if you know what I mean?" "That's okay... I understand," I smiled and then, taking charge of matters, I slipped my last garment off and drew him towards me, saying; "let's just do it for now... we can do it properly next time." ** 4. The following day, we climbed the hundred or more steps to the top of Castle Hill (Colline du Chateau) to enjoy the wonderful views of the city, the Alps and the Mediterranean. Although it was a pleasant day, there was a bit of cloud which is why we'd decided against the beach. "Jeez!" Matty gasped when we reached the top (it seemed to be his favourite 'expletive'), "I'm absolutely knackered... and you're not even out of breath!" and then, when I just smiled, he added: "And you had a work out in the hotel fitness centre this morning!" "I'm a fitness instructor," I explained briefly, then gazed out at the fabulous landscape below us. I found myself thinking about the previous night; about the way Matty had, at my instigation, positioned himself on top of me and how, with a little assistance, had managed to insert his erection. It hadn't been too easy, because I hadn't been particularly well-lubricated... but it had worked. He'd managed no more than a few strokes before, with a loud groan; he'd emptied a huge load of his seed into me. He'd apologised (at least a dozen times!) for it being so brief, but |I'd brushed them all aside. Both of us had been worn out from travelling, sunbathing and nervous anticipation; so we'd fallen asleep quite easily. I'd dreamt of Sam -- of reporting that the mission was accomplished and I was now pregnant and returning home -- but that wasn't to happen yet and Sam, in the dream, had told me that. I'd been up first, gone for my workout and, by the time I returned, Matty was showered and dressed and waiting for me. "I thought you'd probably gone to check out," he said miserably, "After last night I thought... well... y'know... that you weren't happy with...." "Oh, for heaven's sake!" I told him. "Stop thinking about it! I'm actually quite flattered that you couldn't control yourself!" "Yes, but...." "No buts!" I insisted, "I'm going for a shower then we'll grab breakfast and do some sightseeing. As for last night... well... you probably achieved what you were meant to! We can't be sure, of course, but we've got plenty of time to make certain... later!" I laughed as he tried to reach out for me. "So let's just relax and enjoy ourselves... okay?" And that's exactly what we did. After exploring the wonderful attractions around Castle Hill, we went back down for a gentle stroll along the Promenade, stopping to look in numerous shops then doing some 'people-watching' as we lingered over a light lunch in one of the cafes. As evening approached, we wandered slowly back towards the hotel, stopped in the bar for a cocktail, then ate an early dinner and headed to our room. When we got there, I said that I was going for a shower, but Matty asked me not to, saying; "I'd like you just as you are." I was wearing a light summery, patterned dress. It wasn't too low cut and had a reasonable hemline, but I thought it quite pretty. With only bra and briefs beneath, it had allowed me to stay cool during the day. Matty had a pair of shorts, a tee shirt, open-toed sandals and, as I looked at him curiously, was clearly sporting an erection. "Just as you are," he repeated as he took me in his arms and planted a wisp-soft kiss on my neck. It felt good, but then he stepped back a little and took hold of my hand. To my surprise, he raised it to his lips and softly kissed each fingertip. Then he did the same with the palm of my hand and then onto my wrist where, truth to tell, my warm blood was throbbing through the veins. Next he kissed the soft flesh in the crook of my elbow before lifting his mouth to meet mine. I was, if I'm honest, already melting. He'd found sensitive areas that most men never even considered, and he continued to be successful when he began to nibble at my ear lobe. It made me shiver with pleasure. The effect was probably visible, because he continued to do that as his hand reached around to the zip at the back of the dress. It's something I've always found to be extremely sensuous -- the feel of my zip being gradually opened like that -- and I slipped my arms around him to relish the moment until, when it was all the way down, I released him and, as he eased the dress off my shoulders, I allowed it to fall to the floor. I kicked my shoes off and stepped away from the crumpled dress as we went into a proper clinch and our mouths met in what was really our very first passionate kiss. Once again, he stepped back from it -- almost making me groan aloud -- but he waited until he was looking directly into my eyes before he hauled his shirt over his head. As our bodies closed together again, I could feel his erection pushing against me and I suddenly realised that I wanted it -- I mean, really wanted it! But Matty was in control this time. As we kissed he unfastened the clasp on my bra (a little clumsily, but I didn't complain!) and brought both hands round to the front to take hold of my breasts. Laying me down on the bed, he began to work on my breasts with, first his hands, then his lips and his tongue. My nipples are an extremely sensitive part of my body and he seemed to realise that very quickly. Although it wasn't in my mind at the time, I would say that only Sam had managed to arouse me that much with that kind of attention before then. And the same could be said when he stood back, lowered and removed my pants, and began to lazily caress my legs with his lips and tongue. Beginning at the knee, he worked his way up the inside of each thigh in turn with small, unhurried movements. By this time he was poised with his head between my thighs. I knew what was to come and I was breathing so heavily that I must have almost sounded asthmatic. Only Sam had ever done this to me before, but I wasn't thinking of that as the tip of his tongue flipped delicately across the folds of my vulva. Unable to help myself, I raised my hips off the bed wanting - no, desperately longing - for that caressing tongue to become more urgent and more insistent. That was when he found my clitoris, first with his tongue, then his lips and then, ever so gently, with his teeth. He nibbled, licked and sucked on it until, after a minute or two, I realised that I was about to reach a climax. It was something I really hadn't expected and before I had time to resist the impulse, I suddenly found myself arching my back and grinding myself into his face. I could feel my hot juices flowing freely and still he continued with that wonderful torture as my orgasm, instead of reaching a peak and declining, just seemed to go on and on! Finally, I could take no more. Somehow, I managed to haul myself a little way up the bed to break the rapturous hold he had on me. I was wheezing and gasping. I've no idea whether or not I'd said anything during that incredible experience; if I had, I'd been too far gone to know about it. Still not really knowing what I was doing, I turned over and started to crawl up towards the pillows but, before I could reach them, I felt Matty's firm hands take hold of my hips. The bed behind me dipped slightly as he moved into position and then, a moment later, I felt the tip of his cock brush against the lips of my vagina. I was too weak to resist -- too weak to assist. I just waited until, after sliding across that thoroughly lubricated entrance a time or two, it finally found its way between the folds of slick flesh and began to enter me. Quite simply, it doesn't matter whether its small, medium or large -- if a woman wants it inside her sufficiently, it feels like a perfect fit. And, at that moment, there was nothing in the world that I wanted more. And yet, somehow, Matty managed to control what he was doing; managed to just slide the head of it in and out a few times, then ease it in a little more until, to my amazement, I began to beg him to 'give it to me!' Even then, he hesitated; waiting until I'd repeated my plea two or three times before, at long last, plunging it in to the hilt. It may be difficult for some men to understand, I guess, but the way it feels often depends on the woman's mood. At that moment I was so worked up that, even though Matty's cock was just an average size, when he finally drove it into me like that, it felt as if it was the longest and thickest intruder I'd ever known. "Oh...yes!" may look innocent enough on the written page, but when it's screamed (and I really do mean 'screamed'!) in the throes of passion, no one hearing it could possibly doubt what caused it. The breath was completely driven from me and I desperately gulped in all that I could as he withdrew almost all the way before driving it back in again to the same effect. It was almost as if his cock had become an air pump -- driving the air in and out of me in time to his strokes as he followed up with more, equally powerful, thrusts. I wanted to cry out with the sheer exhilaration of it; wanted to tell him how good it felt and urge him to continue with what he was doing, but there simply wasn't enough air in my lungs for that. My obeisance could only be revealed by a series of helpless gasps, sighs and moans -- barely heard above the sound of the sloshing, slopping noises of fluid and air being expelled from my vagina, relishing the ramrod movements of his cock being driven in and out of me and the slapping of flesh on flesh when our bodies slammed together. A Baby For Maria Somewhere inside my head -- defying all of the glorious physical sensations that were swamping my faculties -- a single thought contrived to be heard; the thought that this was when the seed would be planted in my fertile womb; when a baby would be brought to life and begin to grow inside my body. And that was the thought that finally tipped me over the edge; for that moment of realisation was when my entire body began to quiver and shake helplessly. That was when a fierce and irresistible surge of exaltation occupied every nerve and sinew of my entire body; the moment when hot juices began to stream onto my thighs as Matty momentarily held himself fully inside me and must have been almost deafened by my ecstatic wail of glorious release. I have no idea how long that lasted -- it seemed intent on lasting through eternity -- but, when it finally began to fade, my arms were trembling with the effort of supporting me and I thought I was going to slump forward onto the covers. Matty, though, had other ideas. His strong hands held me firmly in place as he resumed his relentless thrusting. By then I was no more capable of independent movement than a rag doll as the rate and power of the pounding steadily increased until, a minute or two later, he finally drove his cock as far into me as far as he possibly could and held it there. I felt the pulsing twitches of it inside me and heard his long, loud groan -- like a bellow of triumph -- as he pumped his rich, creamy seed deep into my insides. It seemed to go on for ages, as if his entire being was flooding into me -- as if that life-producing fluid was being driven through my cervix and onwards towards my fallopian tubes -- and my shriek of delight united with his and only faded when his spasms began to die away and a few, shortened, thrusts told me that he was finally emptied and drained. Still, though, he held me in that position for a while longer, before gently lowering both of us onto the bed. I could feel his erection fading, but it was still firm enough to remain in place as he supported himself on his arms. I have no idea how long we remained like that because I was dizzy -- my head was actually spinning -- from the emotional and physical roller-coaster ride I'd experienced. I remember vaguely hoping that his cock wouldn't begin to stiffen again - because I felt too drained and too exhausted to either resist or respond -- and feeling relieved when it eventually softened and slid out of me. I felt him extend his arms; then the tip of his tongue ran slowly upwards along my spine, making me gently shiver with delight, and ended with a soft kiss at the base of my neck. I murmured something in appreciation and, as he lifted himself off and settled beside me, he said; "Thank you, Maria... you are so beautiful... just as you are." ** 5 That Wednesday and Thursday were beautiful days. Although I skipped my work-out on the morning after that wonderful night, when I resumed it on Thursday, Matty joined me and, even though I carried out a fairly punishing programme, he kept up with me. The sun shone brilliantly on both days and, after breakfast, we spent our mornings exploring the Marche aux Fleurs and the Old Town, visiting the Matisse Museum, doing some window shopping or simply watching the people go by on the Promenade. In the afternoons, the sunshine drew us to the beach (the hotel had its own reserved area) or to the rooftop pool. We dined well and drank sparingly. When we talked, I learned that his 'mum' was suffering severely from Alzheimer's -- so severely that she probably didn't have very much time left. It was to make sure that she could receive the best possible care that he'd taken this whole thing on. Eventually, he intended to spend a couple of years backpacking around various countries before returning to New Zealand and settling down. He was, in every way, a really nice lad. If I'd been ten years younger -- or didn't have someone as wonderful as Sam in my life -- I probably could have fallen for him. The sex (first thing every morning; every night -- and during the night!) continued to be very good and extremely enjoyable -- although we never again reached the heights we'd attained on that glorious Tuesday. When he climbed out of the car on that Friday morning, leaving me to continue to the airport, my heart lurched at the thought that I'd almost certainly never see him again, but I carried his image with me on the way home. Strangely, on that short flight, a number of things began to click into place. Now that he was no longer a constant presence, I began to think about the image I had of Matty's eyes, and of his face. I remembered his manner and his bearing, his gentleness and, above all, the rather odd look of puzzlement when he struggled to understand something. The plane landed a few minutes early but, of course, Sam was waiting to greet me at the airport. We practically flew into each other's arms -- much to the amusement of some other people in the concourse - but neither of us cared at that moment. We drove home in style, in the Bentley Mulsanne that was one of Sam's proudest possessions and, by the time we reached home, I'd already reported that everything had gone as planned and that, if I wasn't pregnant by then, I probably never would be! Sam was positively glowing with happiness and there were even a few tears of the purest joy when I said that, ridiculous as it might seem, I was convinced that a child was already in place within me. It seemed a shame to throw cold water on that happiness, but it had to be done. "But I'm bloody-well annoyed at you, Sam," I said in the kind of quiet voice that can show far more anger than any amount of shouting. "Believe me... I am." "What... I mean... why... what have I...." Sam stuttered. "Because there has to be trust in a relationship, Sam... especially one like ours. And you didn't trust me with the truth... did you, Sam?" "What? I don't understand... I mean...." Then the look on my face halted the words, followed by an embarrassed; "I see. You worked it out... I should have realised you were too smart not to. Did he tell you?" "No... he couldn't have, Sam. He doesn't know and doesn't want to." "I would have told you, y'know. How did you...?" "Sam... you can be proud of your son," I told him. "Matthew is one of the really good people. And he's like you in a lot of ways... although he'll never know that, of course." There was a silence that seemed to go for a long time, but I waited. I remembered Sam telling me once that silence was one of the best weapons in a cross examination -- having the patience to wait for someone to add to what they'd said because they couldn't bear the uncertainty of silence. "After he was born... I had no choice but to put him up for adoption," Sam finally said, "that relationship wasn't anything like the one we have. When one partner is a drunken cheat who doesn't want to work -- who scrounges off the other; who gets into debt and expects to be bailed out constantly...." "You've already told me about that, Sam," I said, "You just didn't tell me about your child." "I know... I'm sorry. It was something I've always been ashamed of. I was studying hard, working every hour I could and when... well... when the baby arrived... it was just... too much. I couldn't cope any more. I kicked my partner out -- finally -- and put the baby up for adoption...." "I understand all that, Sam; but...." "I followed his progress," Sam was barely whispering now and the tears were in full flow, "I know he had good parents... I know that he grew up being loved and... and I would have helped if it was ever needed. I mean, I didn't want to interfere... didn't want to disturb the happiness he had... but...." "But you couldn't share that with me, Sam. Couldn't you trust me?" "I thought... you'd think I was..... Oh, God, Maria... I was so ashamed...." "And now I'm probably... in fact, almost certainly... carrying your grandchild!" "What... what will you do, Maria? You know how much I love you... you know I do... and I'll never keep any secrets from you again. Never! I couldn't bear to lose you...." "I've thought about it, Sam... I've thought about it very carefully. D'you really want to know what I'm going to do?" There was no answer and so, after a moment or two, I went on: "If it's a boy, we'll name him Matthew after his dad. If it's a girl... we'll call her Samantha for her grandmother!" I put my arms around her and Sam buried her face in my bosom and sobbed. It would be alright, now... because we loved each other.