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The Conception Deception Ch. 01

By: nageren



As my eyes reluctantly opened, I slowly took in my morning situation. I was waking up in my own bed, slightly hung-over, and next to someone. My eyes focused a little- I was in bed with a woman...OK, that was good. I untangled an arm from the sheets and rubbed my face. As I looked again, my memory started to kick in. Her name was...Diane? Dana? Donna? Dominique! That was it. 

Well, first thing in the morning she didn't look quite as hot as she had last night, but then again, who does? Her face was smooshed against a pillow, her mouth slightly open and twisted, drool puddling around her lips. Her hair, sandy blonde and long, was all over the place, but not in that sexy disheveled way. It was just plain disheveled. But I knew that, if I let my eyes go under the covers, I'd see a hot, sexy, curvy body- a body I had very thoroughly explored the night before. 

She was facing me, which meant the sun wasn't hitting her eyes like it had been hitting mine. Maybe she'd sleep a little longer. We had been going at it until at least 2 a.m., and it was just now 8:30. I thought I could probably make some breakfast before she woke up. Maybe she'd like that. But first things first, I stumbled to the bathroom. It took a minute for my morning wood to soften enough so that I could relieve my bladder. I had fallen asleep right after I dropped the second condom on the floor, and I was regretting not relieving myself before falling asleep. 

Pulling on some boxers and a tank top, I headed over to the kitchen and tried to avoid clanging pots and pans as I began making omelets and French toast. Of course she was going to appreciate breakfast, but even if she didn't, I sure as hell had an appetite. As the butter sizzled in the pan, I tried to solidify my memories of the night before. 

We had met in the club; she had warmed up to me pretty quick. I wasn't too skilled at picking up women like that, but she had made it easy. I've got an athletic build that my job has helped me maintain. With my Puerto Rican heritage, I've got a nice bronzed look, too, so I didn't have to do much pursuing. After only a few drinks and some gratuitous dancing, she had made it clear that she would leave with me. We had gotten back to my place at 11:30, and by midnight, we were naked in bed. 

Flipping over a piece of toast, I recalled how we rolled around, taking turns on top. She hadn't been too interested in oral- giving or receiving- which suited me fine. I prefer intercourse- traditional penis-in-vagina type stuff. It had been a while since I had used a condom, so the different sensation (or general lack thereof) had given me some staying power. Even with a girl as hot as she was- not just looking hot, but acting hot- I managed to hold off while she got a few good cums. After our second round, I was completely spent. I dozed off, wondering if she would leave then or if she'd stay until the morning. 

I had to admit, I was really glad she was there when I woke up. I didn't like an empty bed and still hadn't gotten used to it. A pot of coffee was just finishing when I heard the toilet flush. With a shuffle of feet, she came squinting into the kitchen with a slightly embarrassed smile. She had put her club clothes back on. I had been hoping she'd just grab one of my shirts- there are few things sexier than that. Oh well. At least the club outfit showed off her ample breasts and curvy hips. 

"Mind if I grab a bite before I go?" she asked, her voice a little gravely. 

I poured her a mug of coffee and set two plates on little island in the kitchen. "Morning, Dominique," I said cheerily, "Pull up a stool." 

She hesitated, a little awkwardly, then sat down. "Thanks...uh..." 

"Russell," I prompted her, then slipped some toast on her plate and asked how she'd like her omelet. 

"This is plenty, thanks," she said, taking a bite. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute." 

"Don't worry about it. Stick around as long as you like. I can give you a ride if you need." I hoped I wasn't coming off as desperate or creepy. I mean, I was just trying to be friendly. And, to be honest, she was pretty hot. I wouldn't mind seeing more of her, getting to know her a bit. 

For the first time that morning, she looked me in the eye. "Awww, that's sweet. But I just want to get home. No need to let this reach the awkward phase. This is Hunter's Glen, right? I just live over in Eastbrook. It's an easy walk." 

She was less than a mile down the road, in some housing that was predominantly college students. No surprise- she looked about that age, maybe a little older, like grad school age. Finishing her toast and getting half her coffee down in one gulp, she stood up, glancing through her purse until she found her phone and keys. Before heading towards the door, she came over to me at the stove and gave me a short, aggressive kiss. It was odd to taste the coffee and syrup on her tongue after tasting all the mint and alcohol on it the night before. 

"Thanks for a great night, tiger," she said with a smile. Then she walked straight to the door and headed out, closing it gently behind her. There are few things sadder than watching a woman walk out of your life, even if she's only been in it for a few hours. 

I sat down on my stool and devoured my omelet. After that, I took my time with the French toast. While I chewed, I thought about my feelings from that morning. Confusion, frustration, disappointment- not at all what I had been hoping for, especially after getting laid. In fact, I had been feeling all those things before I went out, and now they were just compounded. 

Had I done something wrong? Wasn't a hook-up like that supposed to become a regular thing? Then after a while of hooking up together, you start to do other things together. Then you start to fall in love. But I guess if the sex was bad, then it ends at the hook-up. I didn't think the sex was bad, though. And I was pretty sure she would agree. 

Images from the night before started passing through my mind. She had been voracious, trying to feel as much of my body touching her skin as she could. She had stretched out on top of me, writhing and moaning. She had cum just from rubbing her slit along my length, before I even entered her. I had pushed in while she was still cumming and I could feel her walls squeezing erratically. And that had just been the beginning. No, there had been nothing wrong about the sex. 

Nevertheless, she was gone. And I was in my kitchen alone, my stomach pleasantly full and my cock straining against my boxers. Ahh, what the hell, I thought. No reason not to. I headed back to bed, grabbing a box of tissues on my way. 

******* 

It was a nice Saturday in the spring, and even though that would normally be a great work day for me, I was taking it off. My landscaping business was doing well enough, and I didn't have any clients with urgent needs (although really, when is a landscaping need an emergency?), so I planned to take the day off, hoping I would have some success at the club Friday night and would be able to spend at least my morning, if not the day, with a lady. 

Once Dominique (or was it Dominica?) had left, that ended my optimistic plans. I tried to make the best of the time anyway. I paid some bills, did some cleaning (the bed sheets sure needed to be washed), and got caught up on a TV series I had been missing lately. Marco, my cousin, called in the afternoon to confirm that I was coming to dinner at his house the next night. Knowing his wife planned to grill pizzas, I wouldn't have missed it for anything. 

As I finished talking to Marco, I headed out to the mailboxes, which were set up as a big box of small slots, erected just at the bottom of the steps to our apartment building. All 24 apartments in our building checked their mail at that one spot. It was sometimes odd to me when I bumped into a neighbor there and realized that I didn't know any of these people. I wondered what I would say if I was ever interviewed by the news after one of my neighbors had committed a horrible crime. 

"Yeah, he seemed nice...quiet...friendly. Usually checked his mail around 4:30." My entire judgment of that person would be derived from a handful of 5-second interactions at the mailbox. 

So I was a little startled when one of "the lesbians" said hi to me while we each unlocked our mailboxes. I didn't know if she was really a lesbian, but my fiance...ex-fiance...and I had given nicknames to most of the other residents (since we didn't know their actual names), and this particular woman lived with another attractive woman, and neither of them ever seemed to have men around. She was short, probably only a little over 5 feet tall, and she wasn't really curvy. The word that came to mind was "sporty," but she was in workout clothes at the time, which probably influenced my opinion. She was probably a few years older than me, which would have put her just over 30. 

"I haven't seen your little boy lately," she said kindly. 

"Huh?" I replied, mostly just unsure what she meant. 

"I used to see you two on the playground- I can see it from my apartment." She used her mail to point to the neighborhood playground equipment. "But it's been a while. Too cold?" 

Well, there was no easy way to answer that one. My first instinct had been to answer truthfully, "He wasn't my kid." He wasn't. I was dating, then engaged to his mom. But I had treated him like my own- I had loved that kid. He had been three years old when I met him and five when they left. I was the only dad he'd ever known. 

"His mother left...broke our engagement, took Conner with her." It was one of those answers that sort of ends the conversation. If you're looking for polite chit-chat, you opened the wrong can of worms, lady. 

"Oh," her face darkened. "That sucks," she said with genuine sympathy. "I'm sorry I brought it up...I had no idea." She was at least sincere and not awkward about it. I tried to return the favor. 

"Hey, it happens. And you had no way of knowing," I said politely, locking my mailbox and heading towards the stairs. She was right behind me. The "lesbians" lived on the second floor, just below me. As she left the stairs, she said to me, "Have a good weekend!" 

Out of habit, I simply replied, "You, too," and went on with my uneventful day. 

******* 

I considered going out again that night, since I would be taking Sunday off, anyway. But even if I got lucky and had another girl come over, I didn't like the idea of another woman making an exit from my life. Maybe I was messed up in some way, but I didn't like the idea of just being used for sex. Isn't that a young guy's dream, though? Sex with no responsibilities, no consequences, no strings attached? And yet the thought of it just made me sick. 

I texted a few friends to see what they were up to that night. A few were going drinking (I'll pass) and some had dates. Marco and his family were at hiss, otherwise I'd be welcome to come spend the evening with them. So it looked like I had to make the most of an evening alone. I ordered a pizza, rented a few new movies, and settled in for the night. 

I was mildly horny, but not enough to make me want to go out. I figured I'd jerk off before bed. It was the other thing that bothered me, that made me want to find a girl for the night. It was the loneliness. Some guys could do it, but not me. I wasn't made to be alone. I had always wanted a big family- a wife who was my best friend, kids running all over the place...and I had always thought that by this time in my life I would already be well on my way to that goal. 

When Morgan and Conner had left, I was crushed. It wasn't even losing Morgan that bothered me- she and I weren't the best couple. We got along OK, and the sex was good, but I think I was mostly in love with the idea of her. When she broke our engagement, and given the circumstances under which that happened, I felt like I was losing my best chance at that life I had always dreamed about. 

Marco had led me through a lot of the fall-out. But still, it's hard to take comfort from someone who is enjoying all the things you are being denied. He's six years older than me and has four awesome kids, with another on the way. I like being "Uncle Russ" to all the kids, but there was nothing like the time Conner first called me "Dad." 

Over the past few months, I had tried my damnedest to bury that dream. I started to figure that maybe it wasn't a family that I wanted- just companionship. I just hated being alone. It made sense, usually. I never felt a strong emotional connection to Morgan, but I had believed that if we had a lot of kids, I'd be happy. The more unlikely that dream seemed, the more it made sense to just find a girl who would share my bed and still be around in the morning. 

I never liked mixing pizza and beer, and I never wanted to turn to drinking to deal with my problems, but I was out of options. During the second movie, I started working my way through a six-pack, slowly forgetting all about anything else that had happened that weekend. 

******* 

I decided to spend Sunday (once I woke up and chased away my headache) tuning up some of my lawn equipment and working on my accounts. Really I was just trying to keep my mind occupied until dinner at Marco's. It went as it usually did- his wife Becca made pizzas for us to cook on the grill. The kids ran around the yard and we all had a great time. After the sun set, Marco and I sat on the deck and talked about life. I told him about Dominique and he just winced. 

"That life isn't for you, man. You know that," he said. 

"Where else am I going to find someone?" 

"I'm sure Becca could find a girl for you," he joked. 

"Becca thinks I need a woman to whip me into shape. Sometimes I think she means that literally. Sooo...no thanks!" 

Marco laughed, knowing all too well what kind of women his wife suggested for me. "Just keep doing your thing, man. Just be yourself. If you've got to go out there and pretend to be someone else in order to find someone, then she's never going to love you for who you are." 

"True, but it doesn't help in the short run." 

"Well, keep your eyes open and your heart guarded." Then after a swig of his drink, he added, "I still wish I knew what was up with Morgan." 

"I told you, she just decided I wasn't what she was looking for," I said bitterly. 

"Yeah, you say that. But there's something between the lines there that I can't read. It's what you don't say that I worry about." 

"Screw you," I said dismissively. There was no malice between us, but Marco liked to push. Sometimes it was good for me. 

"Alright, alright. I'll drop it for now," he said, holding up his palms in defense. Then he went on to talk about a soccer game we were planning to watch later that week, and our conversation went into more comfortable territory. We went inside as the kids were finishing up catching fireflies in the yard. I headed home just before their baths. 

"Figures," Becca teased me. "You want all the fun part of having kids but leave when the hard part begins." 

"Leave the man alone," Marco said, walking me to the door. "Let him enjoy life without kids while he still can." 

I laughed politely, not wanting to let on to what a sore spot they were hitting on. I drove home and went to bed early, telling myself I would get up early for work, but knowing that I also just didn't want to be left with my thoughts in a quiet apartment. 

******* 

After work on Monday, I was stopping to pick up my mail on my way into the building when the 'lesbian' came bounding down the stairs. She trotted up to the mailbox just as I was closing mine. "Hey!" she said. "Back from work?" 

"Yeah," I replied, wiping the sweat from my eyes. It was a warm afternoon, and I'd been outside for most of it. 

"Do you work outside?" she asked. 

"Landscaping. I have my own business, but I also do a lot of the labor." We both stood at the mailboxes in that slightly awkward moment when you're not sure if there is going to be more to the conversation. 

"Oh! Like, mowing lawns and trimming trees?" She asked, moving slowly towards the stairs. 

"Sometimes. But also a lot of planting and decorating. Most of my clients are businesses and hotels that have grounds to design. They have people to mow the lawn, but we make the rest of it look nice." 

"That's cool. Did you study that?" 

"No. I studied business. But my dad was the stereotypical immigrant day-laborer. I would go mow lawns with him and the other Hispanic guys in the summers. I decided to make a business out of what I knew." 

"Awesome," she said, acting way more interested than I would have expected. "Is business good?" 

"We're doing alright, yeah. I've got a few employees and steady clients." At that point, we had reached her floor, and she walked down the outdoor hallway to her apartment. "Well, see you later!" she shouted back to me. I watched her walk away and silently blessed the person who had invented yoga pants. 

******* 

The same thing happened the next day. I got home, checked my mail, and there she was. It was a little odd- I had never run into her like that before. I decided it wouldn't hurt to mention it. Maybe it would open the door to a conversation. Maybe, I wondered, she was checking me out. 

"How come I've never seen you out here before?" I asked 

She answered quickly, "I used to work a different shift- it had me gone all afternoon and evening. But I'm on days now, as of last week." 

"Oh," that actually made sense...mostly. "What do you do?" I asked as we made our way to the steps. 

"Customer service for a big bank- mostly on the phone. Until last week, I was one of those humans you're trying to get to while you work your way through the automated phone system." 

"Ah, I see. And most people call after work so..." 

"Nights and weekends. Right. But I'm managing now, so my hours are a little different." 

"I bet your roommate likes having you home in the evenings," I said, and then immediately wished I could pull the words back into my mouth. 

"My what?" she said, not understanding my implication. "Oh, my roommate. No, she moved out a few months ago, after she graduated. I miss the extra help with rent, but it's nice having the space back. You know how small these places can feel." 

"Yeah," I said, not really understanding. It just felt empty to me. "Anyway, see you around," I said, heading up the extra flight of stairs to my floor. I tried not to think about her. She was cute and friendly and she didn't seem to have been in a relationship with her 'roommate' (and thank God she didn't catch on to what I had said). She had that bubbly sense about her that made me think she didn't realize that she was coming off as flirty. She wasn't my type. I was ready for serious and settled. Marco was right- I wasn't going to find my type of girl in the party scene. Maybe I should check out some church girls or something. Hell, I didn't know. Where do you find a nice girl? 

******* 

I ran into mail girl one other time that week- not at the mailbox but in the parking lot, heading to our cars in the morning. We said hi, but not much else passed between us. Then on Friday evening, she knocked on my door. I had been washing dishes, so when I opened the door, I still had wet hands. Drying them off with the towel I had slung over my shoulder, I looked at her questioningly. 

"Hey...neighbor," she said awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name. I'm Claire." She extended her hand, and I shook it with my dry hand. 

"Russell," I said. "What's up?" 

"Can I talk to you about something?" she asked, clearly nervous. 

"OK. Do you want to come in?" I offered, stepping to the side. 


The Conception Deception Ch. 01



"No...how about down by the lake?" she said. "The bench under the willow tree?" 

"Yeah, let me grab my shoes," I said, walking away from the door. 

"I'll meet you down there!" she said loudly as she walked away. 

I put on shoes and grabbed a light jacket- less for the cold and more to keep bugs off me. I locked my door and trotted down the stairs. The bench was next to the small man-made lake in our neighborhood, and it was angled to look over the lake and also to have a view of the playground, which was empty at this hour. 

Claire was sitting on the bench already, looking at the empty swings, rather than at the lake, which I thought was a much nicer view. She didn't notice me at first, and I took a few moments to observe her in a way I couldn't do when we chatted in passing. Her hair went a little below her shoulders and was dark and wavy. I would have guessed some kind of Italian or Eastern European heritage. Her skin wasn't as dark as mine, but she seemed like she had a natural tan all year, so maybe something Mediterranean was on the mark. Her face was small and her dark eyes usually darted around when she talked. But this evening, she was gazing serenely, with her arms wrapped around one leg pulled up to her chest. Her body was lithe and firm, from what I could tell. Her chest was small, but so was she- so overall she was pleasantly proportional. 

I sat down and was about to make some chit-chat, but she said, "You thought I was in a relationship with my roommate, didn't you?" She didn't ask it in a mean way- she was almost laughing. 

"Yeah. I was hoping you hadn't picked up on that. It's just..." 

"It's OK, I get it. No guys around the place, two women living together...it makes sense. The funny thing is that she was a lesbian, or bi- we never really talked about it. I'm straight. But we were just roommates...or something. I own my apartment, and she was renting a room while she was in grad school." 

"Oh," I said, glad that she wasn't offended. "So...is that what you wanted to talk about?" 

"No," she said slowly, wrapping her arms around herself when the wind picked up a bit. "But I wanted you to know it. I want you to have a little bit of context. There haven't been guys around because I'm just...tired of relationships. It's never been a positive thing for me. In fact, it's been a few years since I had a boyfriend, and I'm actually much happier being single." 

I just listened, wondering if this was going where it seemed to be going. 

"And I wanted you to know that, so that when I ask you something, you don't think I'm some slut or anything. I would say 'Don't freak out,' but...I'm not going to lie to you, this'll be weird." Then she paused and looked over at me. "Russell, you seem nice, but I have to trust you on this. What I tell you here, I need you to promise you won't talk about, OK?" 

She watched me until I said. "OK. Go on." I was intrigued, and maybe a little concerned. 

She sighed and was silent for a minute. Then she said, "So I'm kind of done with men. No offense, I'm sure they're not all bad. But I'm getting older and don't have the time or emotional energy to keep trying to find a relationship that works. But what I'm not ready to give up on is being a mom. So...I want to try to have a baby. And you're an attractive, intelligent, kind man- from what I can tell, at least. I've had my eye on you for longer than you realize. And you've already had one kid. So you seem like a good candidate to be the father." 

"As in...donating sperm?" 

"Technically, yes. What would you think of that idea?" 

I had a few thoughts at once and wasn't sure how to word things. My mouth was open, but I hadn't picked the right words yet. She didn't give me the chance. 

"OK, let me shoot straight. I'm not paying for all the doctors and stuff, because it's not like I have fertility problems or anything- I just want a baby. Insurance doesn't cover any of it unless you have fertility problems. So, I was thinking we could skip the procedures and just see if you could get me pregnant." 

I was stunned- totally at a loss for how to answer her. Really, what the hell? 

"I'm serious about this part, though. This isn't a sex thing or a relationship thing. This is impersonal. Just...do what it takes to get pregnant and that's it. I don't want anything more- no money, no involvement in the kid's life, no legal or emotional entanglements. Like I said, I'm kind of done with men, so I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend or anything like that- I don't even want a father's name on the birth certificate. Just...make me pregnant." 

"That's...whoa." She was right- it was weird. And saying Don't freak out would have made no difference. I sat there silently freaking out. Naturally, I was also imagining having sex with this woman. 

"Wanna think about it?" 

For some reason I didn't give her the answer I should have given her. I should have said no right away. But I couldn't. "I'll think about it," I said, still in a daze. 

Claire stood up to leave. "The fact that you're not jumping at the chance is a good thing," she said. "Most guys would probably have tried to start right here on the bench. But that's not the kind of guy I'm looking for to help me out." I knew she was joking, but I still couldn't process anything through my stunned fog. 

As she took one step away, I came back to my senses- just a little. "Claire?" She stopped and swiveled around to face me. Her arms were crossed in front of her. 

"Hmm?" 

"It's more complicated than you make it sound. You know that, right? There's...there are a lot of factors." 

She smiled gently and said, "I know. Believe me, Russell, I know. I've got a whole list of factors to consider. But there's no point in talking details if you're not on board for the big picture, is there? " 

"I guess not," I said, impressed that she actually seemed to have thought this through. 

"Let me know what you decide," she said. "But don't think about it too long. I'm not getting younger," she said with a smile. "And if you say no, I need to get started finding a new candidate." 

She walked away and I stayed on the metal bench for a half hour. I looked over the lake like I had a hundred times before. Morgan and I had sat on that bench after our second date. It was where we had first kissed and it was there that I had proposed to her. After a while, the hard surface was pretty uncomfortable, but as long as my mind was distracted, I didn't notice. 

I felt guilty for even considering Claire's proposal. She was right, though. A part of me wanted to get started right away. She was attractive, no doubt. Maybe she wasn't the type I usually went for, but that didn't make her any less sexually desirable. What bothered me most was the feeling that, when it came down to it, I'd just be using her. She would just be a body to me, a body I used for sex. And that didn't sit right with me. 

But she seemed OK with the impersonal nature of it. I realized that if I said yes, I would be guaranteed some sexual release, probably a few times a month for as long as she wanted it. And maybe that release would make it easier for me to be patient while I tried to find the right kind of girl for me. What did I stand to lose? 

It seemed too obvious, too simple, like there had to be a catch. The only problem I saw was the questionable promise of "no legal entanglements." It was one thing to say that, it was another to ensure it. I got up and walked slowly back to my apartment. I could see that the light was still on in Claire's place, but I decided to not go there just yet. I gave it a good night's sleep, then in the morning I dropped a note in her mailbox. 

Claire. Let's talk details. Russ. 

******* 

I figured she'd stop by that night, but instead she was knocking on my door that afternoon, presumably right after she had checked her mail. 

I opened the door and felt embarrassed. She wasn't smiling, but she seemed excited. 

"So, is this a yes?" she asked, holding up my note. 

"A contingent yes. If I'm comfortable with the details." 

"Walk with me?" she asked, nodding her head towards the lake. There was a jogging path around it, so we took a stroll on the mile-long path. 

"I have a friend who's a lawyer," I told her, as soon as we had some privacy. "I'd like to have him make a contract or something that formalizes some of this." 

"I...don't know about that." 

"Look, Claire, if we do this, I need to know you're not going to hit me with a paternity suit or something." 

She sighed. "That's fair. But I don't like telling someone else about it." 

"He's my cousin and my best friend. I tell him everything...almost everything." I said. "I'd be telling him anyway. A contract protects both of us. You can put something in there ensuring I won't try to take the kid away or anything like that, if you want." 

She stopped still and looked at me with a frightened expression. "OK, I hadn't even considered that. I just assumed the guy would want to be a part of making the kid but not actually raising it." She resumed walking. "OK, so how do we do this? Do we meet your cousin together?" 

"I don't know. Let's talk about it, then write down what we want, and he'll draw something up for us to sign." 

She laughed. "For some reason, that makes this weirder than it already is." 

"Well, it's pretty weird to begin with. This just formalizes that." 

We both laughed. After a few more steps, Claire cleared her throat then said, "So I keep track of my cycle, which is pretty regular. There's a three or four day window in the middle that would be best for...getting the job done. The plan is: every month, once a day during those 4 days, at my place. I can call it off at any time." 

"Sounds reasonable." I started to get hard just picturing having sex with her. It was exciting to think about. I began to wonder what she was like in bed. Loud? Timid? Aggressive? Playful? 

"I want you to get tested...just to make sure you're clean." I opened my mouth to object- but then realized she had every right to expect that. 

"And this is may be the downside," she said, slowing her pace. "No other women while we're trying. I'm not trying to be possessive or anything- I just want to be safe. And it may only take a month or two, so maybe it's no big deal. You're not dating anyone right now, are you?" 

"Huh? No. Not since Conner's mom left. And uh, I'll go get tested." 

"OK. Well, you talk to your cousin and let me know what he says." 

We talked a few more details while we finished our loop around the lake. For some reason, I felt like I should be holding her hand or something. I made a joke to that effect, and Claire got serious. "Be careful, Russell. We're not talking about friends with benefits or anything like that. Try to keep it...like a business exchange. You've had one night stands, right?" I didn't want to mention that I'd only had one- just a week earlier- and had hated it. Still, I nodded yes. 

"Well just picture this like a recurring one of those. No need to talk about it later or keep in touch. We're both there for just one thing, and we don't need to complicate it." 

"I suppose," I said, skeptically. "Anyway, I'll call Marco tonight. Don't worry- he's really trustworthy. And since it would be a professional thing, he wouldn't be allowed to tell anyone." 

She sighed, "I guess so." Just then, we were back at our building. As we walked up the steps, Claire said in a soft voice, "We've got almost three weeks until the next time for...you know. I'll send you the dates." We swapped phone numbers, and she texted me a range of dates for three weeks later. I went home and starred those dates on my wall calendar. After dinner, I called Marco. 

******* 

Ten days later, in the late afternoon, Claire and I were sitting around a small table in Marco's office. The door was shut and Marco was just sitting down, papers in hand. 

"OK, so before we begin, I need to say something off the record," he told us. "I want you both to know that I think this is seriously fucked up. I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for you, Russ. Claire, you seem like a nice lady, and Russ, I love you like a brother, and I just want you both to hear it from me again, that I think this is a bad idea and one or both of you is going to end up hurt." 

We looked around in awkward silence. Once it was clear he hadn't dissuaded us, Marco sighed loudly and put the papers in front of us. "OK, now I included everything I could in the contract. Both of you read it very carefully. It's got everything you specified about relinquishing paternal rights, denial of the right to child support, denial of visitation rights, financial obligations for medical procedures- everything I could put in a contract of this nature." We both started reading. The contract was only a page long, but the print was small and it was in legalese, so it took some time. When I was about halfway through, Marco said, "There's no precedent for anything like this- I had to make up the contract from scratch. And I didn't even have my secretary handle it, since you wanted secrecy." 

Claire mumbled some words of thanks as she continued to read. After another minute, we had both finished, and Claire said, "So there's nothing about...the act itself. This doesn't mention...that...at all." 

I had noticed that, too. The contract assumed pregnancy. It didn't say anything about how we would get to that point. 

"Like I said," Marco replied, "I put in everything I could. I cannot, however, make a contract that obligates someone to perform a sexual act. There's only one legal contract that can do something like that," we both raised our eyebrows- in surprise and curiosity, "and that's marriage. If you want to talk about 'conjugal rights,' you need to go get a marriage license...which you will not be doing," he said, directing that last statement at me.  

"Not even on the radar, man. But can't you word it vaguely?" 

"Yeah," Claire added, "like something about an agreed-upon exchange of property...or something?" 

Marco shook his head. "No- because unless the nature of the 'property' is specified, it can be interpreted however someone wants. So it doesn't guarantee anything." 

"Oh..." Claire and I said together. 

"Besides, unless I'm wrong, you're not worried about that part of it. I mean...that's going to happen, right? It's the...ensuing issues that need legal protection." 

Claire relaxed, "Yeah, you're right. I suppose this covers everything." 

Marco looked at me. "Looks good to me," I said with a shrug. 

Marco called in his secretary to serve as the notary, and we all signed where we needed to. Marco gave us each a copy, warning us to keep it safely out of sight. As we got up to leave, Marco walked us to the door. Putting his arm on my shoulder, Marco shook his head and said, "You just be glad I can't tell Becca about this." Claire looked at us suspiciously, and I quickly said, "His wife." 

She nodded understandingly, then headed out of the office. We walked together to the parking lot, then just before we parted ways, Claire asked, "You still have the dates, right?" 

Starred and circled on my calendar- hell yes, I had the dates. 

"The first one is next Wednesday," she said. "Just come on over sometime after 7, OK?" 

"Want me to bring over anything?" I asked, realizing I didn't know exactly how she expected this to happen. 

"Just...the product," she laughed, then got in her car and drove away. 

******* 

A little over a week later was Wednesday, the Wednesday. I thought about it all day. I had kept myself from jerking off all week- which wasn't easy. I got home from work in the late afternoon, showered, ate dinner, and looked at the clock for the hundredth time. It was still only 6:30. I tried to watch TV but couldn't focus. I tried to clean up, but I had already obsessively cleaned my place all week, trying to find a way to redirect my sexual excitement. I brushed my teeth and shaved, not wanting to be at all offensive during our first time. 

It's an odd feeling, knowing you'll be having sex soon. It's not like in the club or on a date, when you're trying to figure out Is this going to happen? Or on your way home, when you know it's going to happen soon and you're with the person already. But to know that in less than half an hour I would be having sex with a woman who was in the apartment below me...it was driving me crazy. 

Guilt kept creeping into my mind, but I rationalized it away. It was her idea. She didn't ask for more details. I got all the tests she asked for. I wouldn't let this go on too long, just a few months while I readjusted my life. I wasn't technically lying to her... 

Finally, at 7pm I went down the stairs and knocked on Claire's door. She let me in and I looked her up and down. She was in tight sweatpants and a t-shirt with her hair pulled up into a ponytail. She smiled and said, "Hey, come on back to the bedroom." That's about the sexiest thing a woman can say. 

Her bedroom, like her apartment, was simple. She had an electric piano in the corner of her living room, and I would guess that she had some interest in pottery, judging from all the obviously hand-painted ones sitting around. In her bedroom, she had a big flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. On her nightstand was a big bowl of popcorn and a glass of iced tea. It looked like she had a movie ready to go. Seeing me looking at it, she said, "Since I'm not supposed to walk around after you do your thing, I'm just going to lay back and watch a movie." 

She seemed like she was trying to be relaxed, but failing. 

"Nervous?" I asked, hoping my voice didn't sound too excited. 

"Of course. Nervous and excited. I really want this to work, and I've been so excited thinking about finally taking a step to have a baby that I haven't thought about the awkwardness of getting there." 

"Well, I'll try not to be too awkward," I promised. 

"I know you will, thank you," she said, climbing on the bed. I started unbuttoning my shirt, but Claire said, "Hold on, no need for that." I paused and looked at her, confused. 

"This isn't about sex, remember?" I looked blankly at her, unsure what she meant. Claire went on. "I don't want to do anything more than necessary. So...I'll lie here on the bed, and you get yourself all worked up, and then right before you...you know...cum...just put it in me." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah!" she said, a little too cheerily. "I used a lot of lube, so you won't have to work at getting it in. And look!" she pulled down a flap of cloth at her crotch and opened it up, barely revealing her slit. "I custom-made some pants that I could use when we do this. This way I don't even need to pull down my pants!" She was quite proud of that. 

"Oh my God," I said in disbelief. Definitely not what I had expected. I mean, I hadn't expected to be making love to her, but I at least thought it would be a quickie. I thought there would be some flesh involved. 

"Would it be easier for you if I was watching the movie while you...did your thing?" 

"If you're not going to be helping me, then yeah, I don't think I want you just sitting there watching me jerk off." I tried not to sound bitter about it. She had said it wasn't about sex. I just didn't take that to mean that there wouldn't be sex. 

"OK. That's fine. Just...some guys get off on that, you know? They like being watched," she said casually, lying back on the bed and picking up her remote. She turned the movie on and I unzipped my pants. I felt a little foolish for having dressed a little nicer. Pajama pants with a hole in the front would have been much more convenient- I'd have to remember that the next day. 




The Conception Deception Ch. 01



Pulling my pants down a little bit, I sat on the bed beside her. She lay back, fully clothed except for that open patch at her crotch. Her head was turned to watch the movie, so I looked up and down her body. I didn't feel bad about ogling her- I figured she owed me at least that. I had been hard since we got to the bedroom, and even though I had softened a bit once I realized her plan, I was quickly hard again. 

The beginning of the movie had no dialogue, just some sappy music, so I wasn't distracted. I started using my hand, quickly stroking, wanting this to be over soon. I even felt a little humiliated. I could see her breasts rising and falling with her breathing, and I had to consciously keep my hand from running along her side. I looked down at the little patch of exposed body and thought how strange it was that the one area that was usually the last to be uncovered was the only part of her that wasn't hidden from me. 

Though I found the whole situation completely unsexy and not at all erotic, I was still almost ready to cum. Four days of denying myself release had put me right on the edge even before we started. 

"Just give me a little heads up before you stick it in," Claire said very softly, still watching the screen. Her voice startled me and brought me right to the verge of cumming. 

"Almost," I grunted, getting up from the bed. Claire wiggled towards the edge, letting her legs dangle over the side so that her butt was just on the edge. I stood in between her legs and lined myself up at her entrance. I was close, but not completely there; I figured that was good enough. She had put a lot of lube on herself, and I slipped right in. 

The sudden sensation of her warmth around me pushed me over the edge, even though the lube had taken away all sense of friction. I pushed in a few times and groaned. I pulsed hard inside her, releasing all that I had been holding back that week. I glanced at Claire's face, and her eyes were closed. I saw her flinch a little when I pulsed and squirted. I desperately wanted to feel her, to touch her, to kiss her. But as it was, I was just trying to keep myself above her. 

As I felt the last twinge or two of my release, I exhaled loudly and lowered myself on top of her. I didn't care for a moment if that was OK with her, I just needed to lie down. Almost as if she had anticipated that, Claire's hands were in between us, pushing gently against my chest as I came down, guiding me onto my back next to her. Quick as a wink, she closed the flap and wiggled herself over to the middle of the bed. She slipped a pillow under her ass and grabbed the popcorn bowl. 

"Go ahead and take a minute if you need," she said with a mouthful. 

"Thanks," I gasped. "I will." I stared at the ceiling and wondered if I was really OK with this after all. Not getting to have sex certainly changed things- it made me wonder what, if anything, I was getting out of this deal. 

After a minute or two, Claire stretched her neck and looked over at my softening cock She smiled and said, "Glad I lubed up." 

"You probably could have gone with less," I said. 

"Didn't seem to bother you," she commented playfully. 

"Yeah...well, I held off all week. Tomorrow might be different," I warned, pulling up my pants. 

"Noted. Same time tomorrow?" she asked. 

"Sure. I'll see myself out," I said, stumbling a bit as I headed out of the bedroom. 

"Thanks," she said, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth. Corny dialogue was just beginning on the TV. 

******* 

I lay in bed that night, frustrated. So basically I had just jacked off next to her, then got a very quick thrill at the end. And she was so amazingly chill about it, like it was no big deal. At least she wasn't a bitch about it or rude or anything. In fact, I liked her- in a friendly way. She seemed like she might be fun to hang out with. 

Realizing that made me start to feel guilty, because I wasn't being totally honest with her. 

Morgan and I had been panning to get married. She had wanted to start having kids together, and I wanted to be married before that happened. I was ready to adopt Conner and raise him as my own, and Morgan used to tell me how good I was with kids. She said that was part of what drew her to me. 

Before we got married, though, she wanted us both to get a physical, making some weird excuse that I never understood. Turned out that the whole "physical" story was just a ruse to get my sperm tested. She was suspicious because she had secretly gone off her pill a year earlier- while we were still dating- and she hadn't gotten pregnant yet. Morgan didn't like what the doctor said. I had a low sperm count, and the bottom line was that, though I could possibly get her pregnant, it was pretty unlikely. As in, one in a million unlikely. 

The next day she was gone. Seriously, just overnight. She left the ring on the kitchen counter and had all of her and Conner's stuff gone by the time I got home from work. I called, she cried, I yelled- it didn't matter. It was already over. If I couldn't give her babies, then she didn't want me. I felt used. All of our relationship, the entire two years we had been together, it was a sham. All she really wanted was babies. She was only keeping me around for that reason. 

So yes, I thought it was a crazy twist of fate that Claire came into my life and was up front about what she wanted from me. It was the same thing Morgan wanted, I guess, minus the fatherhood. And so here I was, using Claire to get some sense of punishing or paying back Morgan. Sure, I'll try to "get you pregnant." It might take a while, though. Sure, I'll pretend Conner was my kid, so you think I've got what it takes. Sure, I'll pretend I don't mind that you don't see anything of worth in me, that I'm just a set of chromosomes you can use. I can use you while you use me. 

But Claire wasn't Morgan. I was messing with a human being here, and I was trying to steal all her hopes, trying to take away her dream without her ever knowing. I rationalized it, sure. Technically I wasn't infertile. Technically, she could have had me tested. Technically...I was being a real bastard. But fuck it. I didn't owe her anything, and fate owed me a little something, even if it was just a few months of getting my rocks off inside the neighbor lady's hungry womb. One of us was bound to call it off after a month or two, right? 

Hell, if it was always going to be like tonight, I was going to call it off. It wasn't worth it.



The Conception Deception Ch. 02



Chapter 2- For Concession 

Thursday night was a repeat of Wednesday, just with a different movie. And this time, I was more appropriately dressed and wasn't surprised by what she expected. It took me a little longer to get worked up, especially once the dialogue started on the TV- it was distracting. But after a few minutes, I was ready and simply said, "Claire..." 

She scooted to the edge and I pushed in. There was less lube this time, which meant I actually felt some friction. That alone was enough to get me off without the need to thrust. It wasn't as strong a cum as the day before, but it still felt good. I rolled to the side and Claire moved back to the center of the bed. 

As I was preparing to leave, she said, "I'm going out with some friends for dinner tomorrow- can you come over a little later, like after 9?" 

"Yeah, sure," I answered casually. As casually as one can manage when arranging to inseminate a woman that he has just finished cumming inside. 

******* 

Friday night, she was giggly. She'd had a drink or two, I could tell. There was no movie set up, because she had just gotten back from dinner- we had run into each other at her front door. She asked me to wait in the living room while she changed, and I looked around at the pictures. Something seemed odd about them, but I couldn't figure out what. After a few minutes, Claire called me back to the room. She had a bedside lamp on and was holding a novel. "Whenever you're ready," she said, opening her book. Every minute or so, I could hear her turn a page. I looked over at her, trying to find something to stimulate me. If only I could see a little more of her... 

It was taking longer than usual, but Claire didn't say anything. As she read, she casually moved her hand along her body. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have my hand in the same places- along her hips, around her side, just under her rib cage...I was getting close. 

"Almost there," I warned her. 

She scooted into place, and just as I lined up with her entrance, she gasped, "Omigod, I forgot the lube!" 

"Too late," I warned her. It wasn't, really. I was still going to need a couple strokes or thrusts, so I could have held off. But I just didn't want to; I wanted to be done. I started to push in and enjoyed that delicious sensation of slight resistance, the feeling of a woman's walls giving way and letting you in. She was tight, but there was a hint of moisture as I started to get my tip inside. I did a few gentle prods, encouraging her wetness to spread around, and after a few seconds I had enough to push in some more. Claire moaned and put her hands over her face. I didn't know if it was embarrassment or arousal or something else. 

With two solid strokes, I was inside her, just in time. The tightness, the warmth, the friction, the excitement...I came with a groan and held in deep. I tried to avoid making much noise when I came- it just seemed out of place. But I still held my mouth open and gasped. Even if it wasn't the ideal situation, cumming inside a woman always feels great. 

I wanted to wait until I felt myself getting soft, but Claire didn't want to risk losing any of that precious cargo, so I reluctantly pulled out. Once she had the flap closed and the pillow under her, I slumped into a chair next to the bed. "Gimme a minute," I said, feeling tired. 

"No problem," she said happily. Then after a minute, with her eyes still in her book, she said, "I guess this is like a dream come true, huh?" 

Not wanting to disagree strongly just yet, I said, "I'm not sure what you mean." 

"You know...hassle-free sex. You don't even need to mess around with the preliminaries, just skip straight to the good part." 

"You could not be more wrong," I said calmly. "We're skipping the good parts." 

"Oh come on," she chided, putting her book down. "No obligation to talk, or cuddle, or mess with foreplay...You get to walk into my room, cum inside me, then walk out with no responsibilities or consequences. It's perfect. Cumming without the drama, what more could you want?" 

"Well, since you ask, I'd like to actually have sex," I said. I had been looking for a chance to bring this up. I wasn't yet ready to back out of the deal, but I was close. 

"But you get the important part of sex, right?" 

"Wrong," I said, a little agitated. Claire furrowed her brow and looked at me. I went on. "Sex is about so much more than cumming. Even that isn't half...isn't a tenth as good without all the build-up, without everything that leads up to it. Without touching and holding and smelling and feeling skin and feeling accepted by your partner. It...it's such an emotional, personal experience. I can't even call this sex. Whatever we're doing...it's not sex." 

"Yikes," she said, still sounding a little under the influence of the alcohol she'd had earlier. "Looks like I hit a nerve. Excuuuuuse me! Maybe you just have a different perspective on sex from every...other...guy I've ever known." 

"Look," I said, in a calmer voice, "I've been thinking about this, and I'm really wondering what I'm supposed to be getting out of this deal. I mean...you are hoping to get a baby, so that's your payoff. But what do I get in return?" 

She looked at me, confused, "You get...this. You get to cum inside me. You get four sexual encounters a month, no strings attached. I thought that would be highly motivating." 

"Well, nothing personal, but it's not. In fact, I'm starting to think it's more frustrating than anything else. It's like I'm being teased with sex but not allowed to have it. And on top of that, there are strings attached- I'm agreeing to not see anyone else. How is that rewarding? Twenty-six days a month, I'm dealing with enforced chastity." 

Claire seemed a bit put off, but at least she wasn't angry. "What do you suggest, then? That I go all porno on you, fake like I'm having a blast while I bounce on your love stick, begging you to 'fill my little pussy, baby?' Because if that's what you want, then you can fuck off." She didn't say it in a mean or angry way, but she was obviously perturbed. I guess this was my make-or-break moment. I hoped that her being even a little buzzed would work in my favor. 

"Once a month. That's what I want," I said. 

"Huh?" 

"Three of the four days, we'll do our little dance. You wear your trap door pants and pretend not to pay attention while I jerk off. I'll only touch you when I'm finishing inside you, then I'll slip out of the room gracefully. But on the fourth day, we actually have sex. Clothes off, under the covers, kissing and holding and trying to get you pregnant the way it's usually done." 

She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. After a few seconds she said, "I told you this was not going to be about sex." 

"Yes, you did. And that's still true. But you didn't say it wasn't going to include sex. It's still just about getting you pregnant, right? Sex doesn't take away from that. And without this, our little arrangement just becomes a case of me helping you out at some inconvenience to myself. I think it's only fair that I get something out of this, too. I only agreed to do it because I assumed you were talking about us having sex four times a month." 

"Bad assumption," she said tersely. 

"A perfectly legitimate assumption, given the circumstances," I countered calmly. 

"Are you saying you wouldn't have agreed to this if you knew it was going to be...like this?" she asked. 

"That's exactly what I'm saying," I said confidently, even though I wasn't totally sure if that was the case. 

She was silent for a few minutes, chewing on her bottom lip and occasionally brushing a tuft of hair away from her face. She was cute when she was concentrating. 

"You're not happy just cumming?" she finally said, her expression showing her confusion. 

"Nope," I answered. "I prefer to talk and kiss and cuddle and have a good bit of foreplay. I like for sex to last a while, so that I can touch and explore my partner's body. I love watching a woman cum while I'm having sex with her- it's more satisfying than my own orgasm." 

She looked at me with undisguised skepticism. "Really?" 

"Emotionally more satisfying, yes. Or at least just as satisfying." 

"I think you're just trying to talk your way into my bed." 

"I'm already in your bed- tomorrow. I'm just trying to make it a more enjoyable experience, maybe for both of us." 

"Don't get your hopes up, cowboy." 

"Is that a yes or a no?" 

"It's a 'come back tomorrow and we'll see.' Tomorrow's Saturday- I'm home all day. What time works for you?" 

"I'll be working until late afternoon." 

"Let's just make it nighttime, then. It's better for me to be able to just go to sleep afterwards, anyway," she said, indicating her propped up hips. 

"So you're saying maybe we'll have sex?" 

"I need to think about it. That's kind of a big thing to just spring on a girl." 

"Says the woman whose womb is currently soaking in my sperm," I pointed out. Claire rolled her eyes. "Besides," I continued, "you kind of sprang this whole idea on me just as suddenly." 

"And I gave you time to think about it, didn't I?" she said confidently. 

"True, true," I conceded. "I'll swing by around 8, OK?" 

"Sounds good." 

"And Claire," I said, as I reached her bedroom door, "you need to understand that if you say no, then tomorrow is probably my last time. This really isn't working for me." 

"I understand," she said solemnly. 

******* 

I really didn't know which way she would go. I also wasn't sure what I wanted her to say. Part of me wanted her to say no, so that I could end it all, satisfying my guilty conscience and tacitly agreeing with Marco that the whole thing was just too fucked up to work. But several other parts of me wanted her to say yes. The biggest problem- and probably what I was most worried about- was that she would say a reluctant yes, making me feel like a scumbag as I had sex with a woman who felt only obligation and nothing more. One-sided, awkward, guilt sex. Definitely not what I wanted. 

I passed her in the parking lot on my way home from work on Saturday. She was heading out to her car, her purse slung over her shoulder. I was just getting out of my truck and making sure there wasn't anything valuable in the back. She waved to me in a friendly way and shouted, "I'm running to the grocery store. Want me to pick up something for you?" 

It was weird. She was being friendly, which was good, and she was offering to get something from the store- that was more than a neighborly hello. I didn't know what to make of it, and so I was unable to think through my dinner plans and actually answer her. "Nah, I'm good, thanks," I hollered across to her. That was probably all she expected to hear from me anyway. I never can tell when people are being sincere and when they are just being polite. 

"OK. See you tonight!" she said, sliding into her car and not waiting for a response. 

Once I got to my apartment, I wished I had asked her to get something from the store for me. Looking through my cupboards, I couldn't put together a decent meal and had to settle for a hodge-podge of things to fill my stomach. Grocery shopping tomorrow, I guess. 

After what passed for dinner, I took a shower and read some emails. It was still 2 hours before go time, so I flipped on the TV. I thought of Claire's pottery and wondered if I should get a hobby, too. When Morgan and Conner had been around, I always had something to do when I wasn't working. I spent time with Conner during the evenings, and after he fell asleep, Morgan and I had time together. Since they left, I just watched a lot of movies. I tried to remember- what did I do in my free time before Morgan? I guess I spent a lot of time with Dad. And I used to play music. I still had an electric bass in my closet, one I hadn't played in years. Bass isn't much of a solo instrument, but if I could find a few guys to jam with... 

I pushed the thought aside for the moment, content to start watching the first season of a TV series that I had been hearing about. I could get two episodes in before seeing Claire. I settled into the couch and breathed deep. I was exhausted from a day in the sun, and sitting down felt good. 

******* 

I awoke slowly, disoriented. The TV was still on, but there was nothing playing. The show had been boring- or maybe I was just too tired. Anyway, I had dozed off and it was...shit. It was 8:30. I was supposed to be at Claire's a half hour ago! A text from her had woken me up. 

Running late? it said. 

I quickly wrote, Coming, then deleted it, not liking the sexual pun. I replaced it with, On my way, and jogged out the door. She was only one floor down, so I didn't even bother with shoes. I knocked on the door and she opened it a few seconds later. 

"I was beginning to wonder if you had changed your mind altogether," she said, looking relieved. 

"Sorry, sorry, I dozed off on the couch." 

"One of those days, huh?" she said, heading back to the bedroom. 

"I guess," I mumbled, still fighting some cobwebs in my brain. 

Her room was set up the usual way- something ready on the TV, something to snack on and drink, pillow ready for propping up. I noticed she was dressed in her custom pants, which pretty much answered my question about her intentions. 

"Sit down," she said kindly, indicating the chair next to her bed. I sat down and tried to gauge my emotional state. It was, of course, mixed. 

"So I'm sure you can tell that we're not going to have sex tonight," she said, and I nodded slowly. "But what I want to do is plead for mercy." 

I raised my eyebrows at that unexpected request. 

"I'd like to finish this month like I had planned, but then work up to sex next month," she said calmly, then chewed on her bottom lip nervously, looking at me for a response. 

"Work up to it?" I asked in genuine confusion. 

"Yeah, like...not all of a sudden, but getting closer to it each time next month. Then on the fourth day, unless I can't handle it, we could have sex." 

"I'm still not sure what you mean. Like, making out, and stuff like that?" 

"No...more like the other way around. Making out might be too personal for me. But maybe gradually wearing less clothes, or letting you touch me while you get ready, or something like that. I'll have to think about it some more." 

"That...could work," I said, weighing the possibility in my mind. 

"The thing is, Russell, it really has been a long time- a few years- since I've had sex. Not counting what we do, of course." 

"Of course," I agreed. I didn't think of it as sex, either. 

"And so something like that is going to take some mental adjustment. And I'm even willing to try to think of it like a recurring one-night-stand, even though it won't be like that- I would still have to see you afterwards. But I hate one-night stands to begin with. Sex is so personal, and I don't like it just for the act itself. I would feel...scared or violated or...or used...if we did it now. No offense, you're really nice and attractive and all, but..." 

"I get it. You want to protect your heart, and sex is a chink in that armor." 

"Exactly! So I just need some time to see if I can get used to the idea. Can you give me that?" 

I sighed. I knew I was being a first-class bastard by agreeing to this whole deal without telling her I probably couldn't get her pregnant. But I still wanted to be a nice guy, and pressuring her into sex wasn't nice. "Yeah, I can do that," I said, unable to hide a bit of disappointment in my voice. 

"Good. Although if this month goes well, it might be a moot point," she said. 

"Could be," I said, with faked optimism. Then Claire lay back on the bed and I moved over to sit near her. She looked at my bulge while she opened up her little trap door. 

"I can tell you're still ready to go, even after that little heart-to-heart," she teased. I was in my pajama pants, which did nothing to hide my arousal. 

"Hey, our little heart-to-heart was about sex. How did you think I would react?" 

"Well, as a sign of good faith, I was thinking that you could put it in me a little before you finish. Not a lot, but...you know, enough that you can still stroke a few times." 

"The timing of that isn't an exact science, Claire," I warned her. 

"Oh, you know what I mean. About the time when a guy starts to moan, 'Oh baby, I'm getting close baby, can you cum with me? Ungh! Ungh! Cum with me baby!'" She did a fake masculine voice, complete with pants and grunts. We both laughed and I couldn't resist adding, "I thought all women could orgasm on command." 

"If only," she said, widening her eyes and smirking in frustration. 

I casually pulled my hard-on through the hole in the front of my pants and started working myself towards release. I used two hands and squeezed tight, trying to speed things up. Claire lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, her hands folded across her stomach. I couldn't turn to look at her without getting into an uncomfortable position, but in my periphery I could see how her breasts were being pushed up. I longed to touch them, to see them, to kiss them. I hoped maybe we could get to that next month. 

It took a few minutes, but picturing sex with Claire, even as she was lying next to me, fueled my lust. I stood up and moved between her legs, switching to long, slower strokes that went all the way down to my base. I knew I was getting closer and figured it was as good a time as any. Gripping my shaft, I wiggled it past her folds and up to her entrance. I started to push and only had a little progress. 

"Damn," breathed Claire. "Forgot the lube again." 

By that point, I was moving my tip in and out, encouraging her natural lubrication to take over. After a minute of just moving my tip in and out, there was enough wetness that I could push in. Claire gasped as I did and instinctively pulled her legs up a bit. That small motion aided my entry, and I was soon buried all the way inside her. I took a brief moment to appreciate the feeling, remembering that I didn't have to cum right away. 

Pulling back after a few seconds, I slowly pushed back in. Claire exhaled with each slow thrust, keeping her eyes closed and her hands on her stomach. I don't know how much longer it was, probably about a minute, before I reached the point of no return. The first three times we had sex, I had kept my hands on the bed, propping myself up as high as I could over her. But this time, I took the liberty of grabbing her hips and pulling her towards me as I came. I started pulling about the time I normally would have been entering her. 

I heard an "oof!" as I gripped her hips and pulled them towards my thrusting cock. I didn't know if I had crossed a line, but I was too far gone to care. A few solid pushes and I began to empty into her. Claire arched her back and gave me a slightly better angle, pushing me just a bit deeper in. On a whim I said, "Cum with me, baby!" Claire began to laugh hard and dropped back down to the bed. I tried to stay inside her as we went down, and I managed to keep just my tip inside her as I sprayed again. With one more slow, deep push, I released the last of my cum into her. 

Claire was still laughing, which gave me a few seconds to enjoy the feeling of her warm walls around me. I slowly pulled out, and she got into her usual position on the bed. I fell into the chair and leaned back, waiting to get soft before I tucked everything away. 

"That was the funniest thing ever," Claire said as she put the pillow in place under her and looked for the remote. 




The Conception Deception Ch. 02



"Timing," I said, still catching my breath. "Timing is everything." 

"In more ways than one," she said, patting her abdomen and clicking past the commercials of the show she was getting reading to watch. After a minute, I was soft enough to be decent when I walked out of the apartment. As I started to stand, Claire said casually, "Do you wanna watch with me?" 

I paused mid-step and squinted at the TV. Then with a laugh, I said, "No thanks. I just fell asleep watching that earlier this evening." 

"Oh," she said. "That bad?" 

"I don't remember past the first 10 minutes. Maybe I was just too tired. Let me know what you think." 

"OK, Russell," she said. "I'll see you around, I guess. And I'll text you the dates for next month...if we need them." 

I was glad she couldn't see me wince at that remark- I was already leaving her bedroom. "See you later," I called back. 

*******



The Conception Deception Ch. 03



Life went mostly back to normal after that. I worked, I hung out with Marco, I occasionally met up with some buddies, and every other day or so, I would run into Claire. Usually it would be in the parking lot or at the mailboxes. Our interactions were polite and neighborly, but nothing too friendly. We never stopped to talk other than to say a quick hello. 

I did some more thinking about that electric bass in my closet and decided I needed to add something to my life. One night, about a week or so after my fourth night with Claire, I pulled the bass out, cleaned it up, and ordered some new strings. I plugged it into my amp, just to make sure both of them still worked. I got some sound, which was good, but I really needed those new strings before I could play. Still, I plucked out a few old riffs and was surprised how naturally some of the motions came back to my fingers. I printed out a simple flyer to hang around the neighborhood and some other areas I frequented: Bass player looking for some musicians to jam with. Nothing serious, just some fun times sharing good music. Many styles. I put my number at the bottom and printed out a few dozen, then didn't think much more about it once Monday rolled around. 

About two weeks after our first series of efforts, Claire texted me a frowny face and a message that said, "Try again," followed by a range of dates two weeks from then. I had mixed feelings, but I had steeled up my nerves enough to determine that I would at least have sex- real sex- with her once before letting my conscience take over. In some ways, though, that was probably a lot worse on the sleazebag scale. 

I had dinner with Marco and his family again, and once we were alone on his deck, he said quietly, "So...how's it going with your neighbor?" 

I shrugged and said, "OK, I guess. It didn't take last time, so we'll be trying again in a couple of weeks." 

"Can I just reiterate that..." 

"No," I cut him off. "I know it's f-...it's messed up," I said, changing my wording as one of the kids ran past. "But I need this right now. A little no-strings-attached release every month so that my hormones aren't clouding my judgment when I'm looking around. At least now I'm not tempted to go out looking for one night stands that I can try to persuade to stick around." 

Marco leaned back and smiled, "You actually have a bit of a point there. I'll be damned." Then leaning back in and lowering his voice, he said, "But I still feel in my gut that someone's going to get hurt. This just isn't natural." 

"Maybe, but it's working fine for now. And I'm ready to pull out at the first sign of trouble," I assured him. 

Marco smirked and said, "I'm pretty sure she doesn't want you pulling out, bro." 

It took a second or two for it to register, but once I caught his meaning, I just groaned and stood up. The kids were hollering about a frog they'd cornered, which gave me an excuse to shift gears for a bit. I walked down to check out the excitement as Marco went inside to help Becca clean up. 

******* 

Over the next few days, I got at least a dozen calls about my bass ad, but almost all of them were bands looking for a bass player, or else people hoping to start a band. I wondered if I hadn't been clear enough on my sign- I just wanted to jam, not perform. I finally expressed that frustration to one drummer that had called, and he said, "Man, you find yourself the right group of people and it don't make a difference. Jam, perform, it's all the same. Only difference is how many people in the room aren't playing along." 

I thanked him for his opinion and wished him luck. Apparently bass players were a rarity in this area. That Saturday, I got a call from Claire. We weren't scheduled to meet up for another 5 days, so I was curious what she wanted. 

"Hey Claire," I answered, stepping out of the shower stall I was trying to fix in my master bath. 

"Wha...who is this?" she said. 

"Claire, it's Russell. Did you call the wrong number?" 

"Russell? Get out of here! Are you the guy who plays bass?" she asked, sounding very surprised. 

"The ad? Yeah, that's me. Are you calling about that?" 

"Small world," she said distantly. "Yeah, I was just looking for some people to play with. I need some motivation to keep me playing piano. I thought if I had some other folks around...But I don't want to perform or anything..." 

I laughed into the phone, "Well, that's about where I'm at, too. I haven't played in years. I just got my bass all ready to go, but I can't find anyone that doesn't want to start a band." 

After a few seconds of silence, she said, "I guess...just...let me know if anything comes together. I can't really move my keyboard easily, but I've got a good place to use for a jam session. You're right above me, the storage sheds are below, and the next door neighbors are gone most of the time. So we probably wouldn't bother anyone." 

"That doesn't sound too bad. I'll let you know if anyone else is interested." 

"Cool...sooo...still on for Thursday?" 

"Planning on it. Usual time?" 

"Yeah...around 7 or 8, OK?" 

"Call me if I'm not there by 8. I'll try not to fall asleep, though." 

She laughed, "OK, Russell. See you later." 

"Bye." 

******* 

Thursday rolled around, and I stayed out working as long as I could. I knew how anxious and horny I'd be once I got home and had to wait until 7. I got back at 6, which gave me enough time to eat and shower before heading down. A few minutes after 7, I knocked on Claire's door. She didn't answer at first, so I knocked louder. I heard a thumping approach the door, then Claire's voice came through, "Russell?" 

"Yeah." 

The door opened with Claire behind it. I stepped in and she quickly shut the door behind me. Claire was soaking wet, with a towel around her. 

"Sorry, I didn't expect you this early. Go ahead back, I'm almost done." With that, she ran back to the bathroom, where I could hear the shower running. A few minutes later, Claire came in the room, still in her towel, and grabbed a few articles of clothing. I sat in the chair and watched her flit about. She stepped back out of the room for a minute, then came back in. She was in a t-shirt and jogging shorts, a bath towel swirled up over her head, holding her hair. I noticed that she didn't have on her custom-made trap door pants, and I wondered what that might mean for the evening. 

"Any more takers on the music flyer?" she asked, moving around the room to set things up for her evening in front of the TV. 

"One, actually. Some guy that plays hand drums. Not sure what a piano, bass, hand drum combo would be like, but it could be fun to try." 

She looked up thoughtfully and just said, "Hmm..." Then undoing the towel, she vigorously rubbed her hair dry. When she was done, she said, "Well, just keep me posted. Evenings and weekends are generally free." 

I said something vaguely agreeing, but my mind was still stuck on how she planned to "work up to sex" this week. Plus, I had a view of her bare legs for the first time. They were sleek and thin, but not bony. Her shorts were loose, so I couldn't see that wonderful curved area where legs meet ass. But if we were going to do what we needed to do that night, those shorts would need to come off at some point. 

"I was shaving my legs," she said, snapping me out of my daze. 

"Huh?" I grunted in surprise. 

"My legs. You were staring. I was shaving them when you showed up." 

"Ohh. Sorry about staring. You look...very nice," I said, looking back at her thighs. 

"Are you talking to me or to my legs?" she teased. 

I smiled and embarrassed smile and looked at her eyes. "Both," I said, confidently. 

"Handsome and a sweet talker. You've got a bright future with the ladies, Russell." Then sitting on the bed, she put a hand on the mattress and leaned her weight on it. "So here's what I'm thinking for tonight..." 

My eyes darted back to hers. She had my attention. 

"If we're going to end up having sex this week, I need to be comfortable around you. So while you're using your hand to get yourself ready, I'm going to be using this," she held up a small vibrator, about the size of a thumb, "to get myself off. So I'll be taking these off," she said, tugging at the waistband of her shorts, "and lying down next to you. You can touch my legs all you want, but only my legs...tonight. Once you're close, we do like usual. OK?" 

"Sounds good," I said, feeling my gut tingle with excitement. 

"Did you actually hear what I said, or were you too busy staring at my body?" 

"Only touch the legs, finish like usual," I summarized, then added, "Did you remember the lube this time?" 

"Shouldn't need it, if I'm bringing in reinforcements," she said, waving the vibrator around. "OK? I'm going to turn down the lights. Go ahead and get comfortable...you can take off your pants if you want." 

I paused to make sure I'd heard her correctly, then slipped my pants off, dropping them on the floor next to the bed. Claire turned off the light and walked back to the other side of the bed. The glow from the TV gave enough light for me to see her pull down her shorts and step out of them. As she climbed on the bed, she looked at me. I had been watching her every move as I stroked myself. She smirked and rolled her eyes. 

"Don't even," I said. "You cannot expect me not to look. You know you're hot, don't you?" 

"So I've been told," she said, wiggling into a comfortable position and closing her eyes. I heard a click and a buzz as Claire's hand moved between her legs. I slowed down my stroking, wanting to make sure I wasn't finished first. I needn't have worried. Before I even had a chance to touch her, only a few seconds after she started, Claire convulsed next to me, her back arching and her legs clenching. I saw her toes curl and uncurl and heard her gasping. She settled down again after a few seconds, then said very softly, her eyes still closed, "The first one always happens quick." 

I laughed softly. The first one? I began to wonder how long I could draw out this contract before she got suspicious and called it off. Or before my conscience overruled my lust. 

In the meantime, I decided to take advantage of the liberties being offered me. As my right hand pumped my shaft at a steady pace, my left hand reached over and touched Claire's thigh. She flinched at the touch, but only out of surprise, I think. I scooted down a bit so that I had a greater range of motion, allowing me to run my hand from her hip all the way to her calf. I tried to run up and down both legs, front at back, hardly noticing the effect it was having on me. Or on her. 

After a few more minutes, Claire convulsed again. This time, her whole upper body came up off the bed and she cried out softly. She pulled the vibrator away and pushed my hand off of her. Her legs were squeezed tight and her breath rasped and gasped. When she pushed my hand away, she didn't let go of it, but instead gripped and squeezed it in sync with her body's jerks. I watched in fascination, speeding up my strokes. I had planned to stretch this out for a while, but after that display, I was almost on the edge. 

Climbing over her, I didn't even need to warn her. Claire felt my movements and spread her legs. I quickly lined myself up and pushed in. With no need for lube or patience, I sank in deep. Four or five strokes later, I held deep and released. I wished I had been able to time it so that Claire came with me- I wanted to feel that exquisite tightness constricting around me. Hopefully we'd get to that at some point, but in the meantime, my own pulsing and throbbing was more than enough. I was resting over her with my elbows on the bed on either side of her breasts. I wanted to move my hands in and grab hold of her, but had just enough sense in me to resist that urge. Instead, I balled up my fists and gripped the sheets, trying to push even deeper. I thrust slowly a few more times, drawing out my pleasure. 

Claire let me catch my breath for a minute before indicating I should pull out. I rolled to the side and exhaled loudly. 

"Better?" Claire asked, facetiously, I assumed. 

"Hell yeah," I answered. "That's more like it." 

"But still not sex?" 

I thought for a second as she adjusted the pillow under herself. "Technically, I might call that sex. But that's not what I'm wanting. You get that, right? This isn't what comes to anybody's mind when they hear the word 'sex.'" 

"I know, I know," she said in mock frustration. "Too many clothes, not enough skin, not enough thrusting and grunting." 

"Well I'm sorry you don't get anything out of it. I mean, using that vibrator must be such a painfully tedious process," I said sarcastically. 

"Hey, I don't need you around to use this thing. I was even a little...reserved...tonight, because of my audience." 

"I just hope it's helping. You're serious about sex on Sunday?" I asked, wanting to make sure she wouldn't try to put me off another month. 

"As long as things go OK between now and then," she said solemnly. 

I sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed, fishing around for my pants. "same time tomorrow?" I asked. 

"Works for me," she said. As I stood up, she said, "By the way, that show turned out to be pretty good. The first half of the episode was setting everything up, giving background on the main character, but it got better after that. You should watch it." 

"How far into the series did you get?" I asked casually. 

"Only the one episode," she answered. I looked at her questioningly and she said, "I thought you might want to watch the rest with me. I like talking about shows with people, but no one else I know is watching this one." 

I looked towards the TV, "Is this...?" 

"It's the first one again, if you want to stick around. If not, I'll go on to the second one." 

I stood still for a moment, considering the implications of staying. Realizing I might be over-thinking it, I said, "Let me use the bathroom real quick and grab a drink from your kitchen." 

"OK," she smiled, scooting her body a little bit more to the edge of the bed, making more room for me on the other side. 

******* 

Claire was right- the show got better. We watched two episodes that night before I had to head home. It was getting warmer during the days, so I was trying to start work earlier, getting most of the outside work done before lunch. Sitting on the bed watching TV with Claire was...normal, uneventful. We didn't touch and I wasn't even really tempted to. It felt like hanging out with a sister or cousin, except for the fact that I had just tried to get this woman pregnant. 

The show was a detective drama, with minor cases in each episode tied together by one big plot that was slowly revealed. It was fun to swap theories afterwards and just talk the way normal people talk. I really started to wish Claire and I had met under different circumstances, just two neighbors getting to know each other. I think we could have been friends. As it stood, I didn't think that could really happen now that we had the contract. 

Friday was a typical workday, and I came home a little before 6, going through my usual routine of eating and showering before going to Claire's. This time, I sent a text letting her know I'd be over in a few minutes, just so she wouldn't be surprised again. 

When I showed up, she met me at the door, this time wearing a short, loose nightgown. I hoped that meant what I thought it might. On the way back to the room, she said, "I'll get straight to the point. The nightgown stays on, but your hands can go wherever they want to underneath it. Just not...you know, on my privates." 

"Really?" I asked, a bit confused. And who says 'privates'? 

"It may sound weird to you, but actually being fully naked feels like a bigger deal to me than letting a guy touch me. So one step at a time, OK? And it's still open season on my legs." As she said that, she lay back on the bed and spread her legs a bit, revealing that she was already naked from the waist down. 

I shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Finishing the same way?" 

"For tonight, yes." Then reaching over to the nightstand, she picked up her vibrator and said cheerily, "And I'll be having a little help again tonight." 

I pulled off my pants and joined her on the bed. "I sure enjoyed the help it gave last night, so I'm not complaining." 

She clicked on the vibrator and started rubbing around her lips. At first, I just watched, my hand on her leg. I rubbed very slowly up and down her thigh at first, then on one upstroke I kept going up. Up, under the nightgown, along her smooth stomach and into that space between her breasts. Just like the night before, her first orgasm was quick and small. Just as my hand rested in on her chest, Claire gasped and tensed up. Her shoulders came off the bed and her eyes went wide open for a second. Her legs squeezed together and her body rolled a little away from me. That only served to move her breast into my hand, and I cupped its soft weight as she trembled next to me. 

I was so intent on watching and touching Claire that I was giving no attention to my cock, which was bouncing along with my pulse. Claire breathed deep and rolled onto her back again, and I used my free hand to grip my shaft. The angle I was laying in made it hard to move my arm, so I thrust my hips a little to provide the stimulation I needed. Truthfully, though, just watching and feeling her body would have been enough stimulation to get me close. 

I moved my hand around her upper body, relishing the smoothness of her skin. Her breasts were small but well-suited to her size. When she lay on her back, they flattened out a little, making them little more than small bumps on her chest. I tried to picture them in my mind as I traced light circles around her nipples and felt them respond to my touch. Then moving back down to her stomach, I ran my palm down her rib cage and over to her far side. Pulling slowly back, I ended at the side closest to me, then quickly ran my hand back up her side, past her breast and onto her shoulder. 

Claire started breathing faster as I moved my hand to the middle of her chest, just under her throat. I spread my fingers and moved my hand just up to her neck, resting it lightly under her chin before moving down between her breasts and onto her stomach. My own arousal was getting strong at that point, so I slowed down my strokes. Claire squeaked and convulsed a bit, resting again after a few seconds. 

"Don't...don't finish yet," she mumbled. "That was just a half-cum, not very satisfying. Let me get a good one first, if you can hold-off." 

"Whatever you say, gorgeous," I replied softly. I felt like I could do that all night, except that my balls would protest violently at some point. 

"Thanks," she sighed, moving her legs around a little. I began rubbing down her thigh again, then tracing lines from her knees all the way up to her shoulders and back again. Sometimes I'd do loops around her breasts or bellybutton, watching her face for some reaction. After a few minutes, her face was all reaction- plenty of winces and tics, her eyelids fluttering even while closed, her mouth moving into shapes ready to be words, then stopping again to gasp. She was obviously working up to her peak. Her free hand slipped between us and found my cock, which I had not been working. I moved my hand away from it and she gently held it, making a few soft strokes. 

Just before she came, I slipped my arm all the way around her in a semi-embrace, feeling her breast on my forearm as I gripped her shoulder from behind. In that position, I was almost on top of her, and when she came, her head jerked forward and buried into my shoulder. She let go of my cock and grabbed my bicep and she twitched and trembled. Her cries were soft but intense, a breathy and rapid succession of "Oh! Oh! Oh!" ending with one prolonged and satisfied, "Oooohhhhhh..." as her head went back down to the pillow. 




The Conception Deception Ch. 03



As soon as she was lying down again, I rolled the rest of the way onto her, found my target without the need of hands, and pushed deep. Her hand touching my cock had brought me close to the edge. I thrust a few times, moving a hand onto her breast and letting the excitement of that touch propel me towards release. Just a few deep pushes and then I felt her hand slide up from the bed and onto my hip. As I crested, she pulled me into her with her hand on my ass. 

Surprised by her unexpected touch at just the right moment, I came hard into her, crying out in a strained voice, "nnnghhhAAAAHH! Ahh! GAH!" Grunting with each satisfying pulse of my cock inside her, I felt the tension of my day drain into her body and dissipate. Claire removed her hand after a few seconds, and I pulled out, again wishing I could stay inside her for a while. As satisfying as it was to cum inside her, these brief sensations of her pussy were still more of a tease than anything else. I held on to the hope that Sunday would be different. 

My head was still spinning a bit as I lay next to Claire, and she looked over at me and giggled. "Are you sure this isn't enough?" she asked. "I'm not sure you can take any more than that." 

Panting, I grinned and said, "We'll just have to try it and see." 

"Of course, of course," she said. "All in good time. Now hurry up and get yourself decent. I still can't believe we stopped watching after that cliff-hanger last night." She grabbed the remote as I got my pants on and made my way to the bathroom and kitchen before settling back on the bed. 

******* 

The episode we watched that night had a pregnant woman as one of the featured characters. I tried not to keep looking over at Claire's expressions. When I did look, there was a wistful sadness. Nothing surprising, I guess. As it ended, Claire just sat there for a moment, looking at the screen. 

"Claire...?" I asked, wondering if she wanted to talk. 

"Hmm?" she said, shaking her head clear and getting up. She went to the bathroom and came back a minute later. As she pulled out some panties and put them on, I took a deep breath and asked, "Why are you doing this?" 

"Doing what?" 

"The whole...pregnancy thing. Why is it so worth it to you that you'd go through all this with me?" 

She half-smiled and said, "Going through all this with you is a lot less work than going through the traditional route." 

"You mean, like, a relationship, marriage, that stuff?" 

"Yeah, exactly that stuff." 

"You tried all that already?" 

"Sooo many times," she said, flopping down on the bed and picking up the remote. She didn't start the next episode though, which I took as an invitation to keep talking. 

"Was it really that bad?" I wondered. "I mean, I know a heartbreak sucks. I still don't know if I've healed from Morgan leaving, but you eventually get over it, right?" 

"Usually. Usually you mostly get over it, though I don't think you ever fully get over a break-up, if the relationship meant anything, that is. But I think I'm just tired of the game. It's like...you know how when there's a presidential election, it starts out with a bunch of people from each party trying to be the candidate?" 

"Yeeessss..." I said, really wondering where this was going. 

"And to get nominated, you have to convince everyone in your party that you are the strongest representative of their ideals and values. You're the most Republican or the truest Democrat, or whatever. You have to be kind of extreme to become the party csandidate." 

"O-kaaayyy." 

"But then once it's down to one candidate from each party, what do they do? They try to convince the population that they're the most moderate. That they will best represent the whole country and not just one party. But they've already tried to prove how extreme they are. So you know that they're just telling you what they think you want to hear, and you don't really know who these people are. Kind of messed up, isn't it?" 

"I guess so. And our screwy two-party system relates to your desire to have a baby...how?" 

She sighed in mock frustration. "In dating, you get two people trying to show the other how fun and sexy and exciting they are. You do crazy stuff together, you go over the top sexually, you're always having fun. Even if that's not who you really are, that's what people think dating should be like. But then what happens when you marry that person? Is that what you really need in a marriage? In a spouse? As a parent for your children? No. You want moderation, stability, reliability." 

"OK, you're actually making sense in a weird way." 

"I know, right? So what's the point of dating, if what you really want is to get married and have a family? But nobody's out there trying to show what a reliable spouse they would be or what a good father they would be. They're just a bunch of peacocks showing off their flashy lifestyle or their good looks or their crazy moves or whatever. And it can be fun, but it has no future." 

"But people can change, right? People grow up, they mature." 

"Not everyone does," she mumbled. "And besides," she said more clearly, "it's a gamble. What if you do settle down with someone, and they never change?" 

Judging by the anger and sadness in her statement, I was ready to guess she had been hurt already. "And so what happened when he didn't change?" I asked bravely. 

She fell for it, "We divorced, quick and easy. Two years of marriage and he was still just a boy who wanted to dance and flirt and be crazy. I didn't have time for that shit, and he thought I had become boring." Then she paused and looked at me with narrowed eyes. "How did you know..." 

"Educated guess," I said with a shrug. "It seemed too personal for you just to be saying all this in the abstract." 

She looked at me for a minute, probably trying to decide whether or not to be angry, then she turned away and said with a frown, "That was 6 years ago. I tried dating again, but it was always the same story. About 4 years ago, I just decided it wasn't worth it. Too much work, too much effort, too much time, and way too much emotional cost with no guarantee of any return on my investment." 

I thought for a few seconds, then said, "My dad used to say, 'If all the apples are bad, find a different tree.' I don't think he was talking about dating, but it seems appropriate" 

"Well, I think too many bad apples have spoiled my taste for them altogether. It's just not worth going to the orchard anymore." 

"You don't miss sex?" 

"Sometimes. But not enough to risk putting myself out there again. And for me, at least, sex was a lot more about connecting to the person than the physical act. If I'm not really emotionally connected, sex just isn't appealing." 

"But you still want a baby." 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," she said softly pulling her legs up to her chest. "More than anything, I think. I didn't used to feel that way, but...lately I do." Then smiling wryly, she looked over at me and said, "And you're wondering why I don't just adopt, right?" 

"The thought had occurred to me," I lied. 

"Adopting as a single person isn't easy. And...even the smallest issue can make it impossible. For me...turns out it's impossible." 

"Oh," I said, knowing better than to push for an explanation of her "issue." 

"So even though I had no hope of finding my ideal man, it occurred to me that I might be a lot easier to find the ideal sperm." 

I laughed uncomfortably. "When did you have me picked out for that?" 

"Well, there have been a few guys lately that I've kept an eye on- attractive, healthy, nice personality, nurturing, already had fathered a child- but they were all married or somehow attached, which was an obvious no-go for me. When you mentioned that your fiance was gone, that seemed like the opportunity I was looking for. So I really hadn't 'picked' you out until a few days before I talked to you about it." 

"And...what if it doesn't work?" I asked. 

"Odds are it will, but if nothing catches after a while, I don't know. I haven't thought seriously about that possibility. Maybe I'd try with someone else?" Then shrugging her shoulders, she said, "Cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess. But for now, I think I'm ready for bed. We'll have to watch more tomorrow, OK?" 

I got off the bed and headed towards the door. "Same time tomorrow?" I asked. 

"Works for me!" she said, turning off the TV. The room went dark and I headed towards the door. I paused, looked back at the room and wondered if Claire really didn't mind sleeping alone the rest of her life. I couldn't imagine it, but maybe that's partly why she wanted a child- to have someone who will be there, even if it's in the next room. Someone to have at the dinner table every night, someone to talk to, someone to watch movies with. I partly feared for that child, that Claire might be setting them up for an unhealthy relationship- "surrogate spouse" I think my psych professor had called it back in college. I left her apartment, thinking, "Oh well. Not my problem, and not my child..." 

******* 

Saturday was rainy, which sort of changed my plans to work. I had hoped for just cloudy, which was great weather for getting stuff done in late spring. But it was pouring when I woke up, and the forecast that had predicted "10% chance of rain" the night before now said "90% chance of thunderstorms." I called my guys and told them to stay home. We'd probably make up for it the next week. Our main job that day had a big water feature, so there was no way we were going out there in the rain. 

A little after breakfast, I got a call from a girl who saw my ad and who wanted to know if I had any times set up to jam. On a whim, I asked if she was free that afternoon. She said she had a few free hours after lunch. I told her to give me an hour to confirm, and she said if I didn't send an address by noon, she'd know it wasn't happening. 

Wanting to run out to my equipment shed to make it better ready for the rain, I threw on some work clothes and headed out. On my way down, I knocked on Claire's door. She answered it in a robe and looked at me with a confused expression, then looked at her phone for the time. Seeing the rain outside, she said, "Oh...wanting an early start, then?" 

I started to say no, then raised my eyebrows in surprise. I hadn't considered that. Before I could answer, Claire looked at me cynically and said, "I was just joking, Romeo. You still have to wait until tonight. At the very least so I can make sure your supplies are charged up." She glanced down at my crotch. 

"Right," I said a little awkwardly. "But that's not why I'm here. What's your afternoon look like? I've got a girl with a guitar who wants to come jam." 

Claire opened the door a little more and leaned against the frame. She looked up in the air and did that lip chewing thing that was so cute. "Give me some time to clean up the place, OK?" 

"Is 1:30 OK? Guitar girl can't make it before then." 

"Oh, that's fine then. Is drummer boy coming, too?" 

"I haven't called him yet; I'll let you know. But I've gotta run- I need to secure some tarps at my shed." 

"Alright, then. See you at 1:30!" she said as I jogged down the steps. 

While in my truck, I called the drummer and told him about the jam session. I think I had woken him up, but he mumbled, "Dude...drum circle at the field on campus on Saturdays." OK, maybe I hadn't woken him up. I think he was a little stoned. 

"Dude," I replied, "Rain." 

He paused for a minute, probably finding a window. Then he said, "Duuude...OK. Send me details." At the next red light, I texted the time and Claire's address to drummer boy and guitar girl, noting that I really needed to get their names. I hurried through my work and got home before lunch, picking up some fast food on the way so that I'd have time to warm up on bass before the afternoon. 

******* 

I carried my equipment own to Claire's a little after 1. She wasn't surprised to see me, and I asked if she needed help setting things up. She handed me a full bag of trash and asked me to run it out to the dumpster. I looked at her in disbelief and she said, "What? You asked to help!" I chuckled and ran through the rain with the trash. When I got back, she had me help turn her keyboard around so that her back wouldn't be to the rest of us. We moved around some furniture to make a little circle, finishing just as a knock called us to the door. 

A soggy hippie with a long, straggly beard stepped in. He had a big black trash bag in his hands. When he had gotten his coat off, he opened the trash bag and pulled out a big wooden djembe. "Rain, man. I could only bring one. But she's versatile." 

"That's cool," I said. "I'm Russ, by the way, and this is Claire." 

"Greetings, fine friends. I...am Rusty. Please do not joke. That is my real name. And yes, I just rain through the rain, so it would be easy to joke. But I am Rusty." 

"Well, take a seat, Rusty," said Claire, as she threw some towels onto the chairs and couch. Just then, another sharp knock announced the arrival of guitar girl. Claire opened the door and a curvy figure with a guitar case stepped confidently inside. She shook her umbrella at the doorstep, then left it at the entrance. Setting down her case, she looked around. Pointing at me, she said, "Russell, I'm guessing?" 

"That's right, and this is Claire...and Rusty," I said, pointing them out. The girl took off her rain boots, stepped inside, and shook hands with each of us. Her skin and hair were very dark, and she wore a ball cap and had thin braids hanging down her back. Her smile was genuine and bright as she said, "I'm Mona." 

"Mona Lisa," Rusty said happily. 

"Say it again and I'll throw you off that balcony," Mona snapped, her smile disappearing for a few seconds. 

Rusty's eyes went wide and his palms went up in defense. "That's cool," he said, "I understand the name-related sensitivity." I laughed quietly at the irony. 

It took a few minutes to get instruments set up, and while we did, I asked around about styles of music. Claire mentioned that she was classically trained but usually played more pop or jazz. I confessed that, when it came to the basics, bass was pretty easy to play in almost any style. Rusty said drums were the same, then looked at Mona and said, "I bet you..." 

Mona cut him off and said, "If the name Tracy Chapman is about to come out of your mouth, boy, I will find something to stuff in it." 

Rusty just grinned and said, "Naw, girl. I was gonna say I bet you have an aggressive style." We all laughed at that, even Mona, who explained that every black girl with a guitar gets compared to Tracy Chapman. 

"Could be worse comparisons," I suggested, treading lightly. 

"True. But that's just not my style," she said. Claire asked what her style was, and Mona said, "Sinatra. Norah Jones. Crooners, mellow stuff. But I also like straight rock." 

I tried to think of how to blend our styles a little, and defaulted to something very familiar. "Let's just see what we can do. This one's in C," I said, then started the opening bass line of CCR's "Down on the Corner." A few seconds in, three smiles beamed recognition. Rusty jumped right in with an easy beat, Mona started strumming, and Claire found the chords. We jammed for a while on that song, then Mona stopped us and started another familiar tune. 

The session lasted over 2 hours, but felt a lot shorter. Music flowed easily between us, as did the laughter. Every now and then, someone would sing a few verses of a song, but none of us was really a vocalist. As the clock neared 4pm, Mona stood up and said she had to head back to work. Claire asked where she worked and Mona said she worked at Jackal's, a restaurant in town. "Oh, I love that place!" Claire exclaimed. "Are you a waitress there?" 

"Chef," Mona replied, putting her guitar away. "Chef in training, actually. Macy is the chef, but when she leaves to start her own place some day, I'll take over." 

As Mona made her way to the door, Rusty stood up and said he would head out, too. "Lovely time, ladies and gent," he said. "Let's please do it again sometime!" 

"Next rainy Saturday," I joked. 

Rusty smiled and bobbed his head and said, "Nice. The Rainy Day Band...Nice." 

Mona, slipping on her boots, shook her head and laughed. Picking up her umbrella, she called out to Claire, "Thank you for letting us use your place, dear. See you later." 

Claire waved as the two of them walked out. I helped put furniture back and was about to head out when Claire said, "Hey, since you're coming back in a couple hours anyway, wanna stick around? We could order a pizza and watch some TV." 

Not having any other plans, I agreed, running my bass back upstairs while Claire ordered food. Since the only TV was in her bedroom, we put the pizza box on towels on the bed and got through three episodes, swapping theories and discussing the plot in between episodes. After the third one, Claire stretched, which naturally attracted my gaze to her chest. When she caught me staring, she gave an exaggerated sigh and dropped her arms down. "Well, I need a break from TV, anyway, so want to go ahead and take care of business now?" 

"Yeah," I said eagerly, wondering what the next step would be- something more than the night before but still short of sex. I was expecting full nudity, at least. 

We moved the pizza box into the fridge and Claire fixed up her nighttime snack and drink to have for afterwards. We got back to the bedroom, and Claire looked down at her clothes. She had on loose shorts and a tight t-shirt. "Yeah, I guess this'll work," she said, making me curious. Turning on the overhead fan, she sat down on the bed and said, "So this time, pants are off but our shirts stay on. You can touch my legs but nothing else, OK?" 

I looked at her skeptically. "That sounds like a step back after last night." 

"I wasn't finished," she said with a knowing smile. Shirts stay on, only touching my legs, but..." she paused dramatically, "You don't need to use your hand to get ready. Inside me from start to finish." 

I smiled and nodded slowly. This was progress. Claire rolled her eyes at my reaction, but she still smiled. "I figure," she said, "that since sex for you involves a lot of touching and feeling and seeing, then this still isn't everything you want. And by keeping your hands and eyes off my naked body, I don't feel as exposed. So it's not quite there, but it's progress." 

"I...can see nothing wrong with any of that," I said, already feeling my hardness press against my jeans. 

Claire lay back and lifted her butt in the air to slip off her shorts. I pulled down my pants and my boxers, leaving them on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

"Are you going to use the vibrator?" I asked, crawling towards her. 

"Do you want me to?" she asked. 

"Honestly, no. I find it sexy as hell, but it gets me so worked up watching you that I can't last very long. And I want this to last more than a minute or two. But on the other hand, I don't want to leave you high and dry, and I don't think you're going to cum just from some thrusting." 

"That's for sure. How about I pull the vibrator out after you're done and get myself one quick cum? That's supposed to help conception, anyway, I hear." 

"Works for me," I said, climbing between her legs. 

"Wait!" she stopped me. "No vibe means I need lube. Hold on a sec." She stretched across the bed and into the nightstand, pulling out the bottle of lube. After a few seconds, she had herself ready for my entry and tossed the bottle back into the drawer. "Proceed," she told me, putting her hands on my hips to help guide me into position. Claire had hardly touched me in all our interactions, so even that little bit of contact made me shiver. 




The Conception Deception Ch. 03



I used one hand to help get in place, my tip sensing the warmth around her entrance. Working my way through her folds, I got settled in enough to let go. Putting my hand back on the bed, next to Claire, I looked at her and asked, "Ready?" 

With her lips closed tight, she breathed in through her nose and nodded. I pushed in a little, then pulled back. Another push in, another pull back. Another small push and I was halfway in. Claire hadn't put much lube on- just enough to ease entry- and I was grateful for that. I pulled most of the way out and then looked at Claire's face. Her eyes were shut and her mouth still closed. I pushed firmly, slowly, all the way in, watching her. Claire's mouth opened in a silent cry as her back arched a little. I held still for a moment, noticing that she was tensed up. 

"OK?" I asked softly, my voice a little strained. 

"Mm-hmm," she replied with a nod. Her hands were still on my hips, and she began to guide me into a gentle rhythm. Each cycle of thrusting and pulling back took about 3-4 seconds, a very slow process. After a minute or two of that, Claire relaxed more, and her grip on my hips loosened a bit. She even slid her hands up to my lower back and over my butt cheeks a few times- light touches that I enjoyed. 

Though in one sense, this was undeniably very basic sex, it felt completely unnatural. I couldn't put my mouth on hers. I could use my hands except to touch her legs, but that would be hard to do without putting all my weight on top of her. I couldn't see her chest at all. It might be sex, but it was an anemic version of sex. If I were in a relationship where making love was like this all the time, I would probably need to end the relationship- or get us some counseling. 

Claire's breathing was synced to my thrusting- deep breath in through the nose when I pushed into her, slow exhale from the mouth as I pulled back. I sped up just a little, and her breathing sped up with me. I really wanted to touch her, and my hands gripped the sheets in frustration. I noticed Claire's head was almost up to the headboard of her bed- she was being pushed away by my thrusts. 

"Claire..." 

"Hmm?" 

"I can't keep you from sliding up. You might need to find a way to...push back, or anchor yourself, or something." 

She opened her eyes for the first time, twisting her head a bit and looking at the headboard. 

"Oh! Right," she said, then wiggled her hands away from our bodies and put her palms on the headboard. She pushed away from it, causing her whole body to slide down the bed. This, of course, pushed her up against me, forcing my next thrust to go extra hard and deep rather suddenly. 

"OH!" she cried, her eyes wide with surprise. The extra push made me feel a surge of desire, and I began speeding up. Claire kept her hands on the headboard, keeping herself from being driven back up the bed. Given my new speed and force, it was a good thing she did that. As I was clearly almost there, Claire started moving her hips a little, arching her back and raising her hips, pushing her clit up against me when possible. I heard her whimper and start to moan, but I was too close to stop. My hands slipped under the pillow beneath her head and pulled tight. While I technically wasn't touching her, that action had the effect of pulling her towards me by her shoulders, making it impossible for her to be pushed away by my last desperate lunges. 

I groaned as I pushed hard, releasing at the deepest point. I held that position as long as I could, relaxing for a second, then pushing back in to finish depositing my load. As soon as I stopped twitching inside her, Claire pushed on my chest, urgently trying to get me off of her. I was worried for a second that she was upset, but as soon as she regained her mobility, she lunged to the nightstand and grabbed her vibrator. 

I lay on my side, watching her in fascination as she turned on the device and put it directly above her exposed clit. I reached over to rub her thigh, and in a matter of seconds she was cumming- more intensely than she usually did on her first one. Her orgasm was still quiet, but the straining of her neck and the high pitched cries she gave off made it clear that quiet wasn't necessarily mild. 

She turned off the vibrator and I listened as her rapid breathing gradually slowed. My hand on her thigh soon felt like an imposition, so I pulled it away and waited. A loud sigh signaled the end of our session, and Claire turned her head to look at me. 

"Happy?" she asked. 

"About as much as you seem to be," I said. 

"Well, I wouldn't go by that standard, if I were you. A few minutes of euphoria in a sexual frenzy aren't exactly a foundation for happiness. This might just be the bright spot in an otherwise dim existence." 

"Wow. I didn't mean to bring out the philosopher in you," I backpedaled. 

"Sorry. I just...I don't want you to mistake an orgasm for life satisfaction. It's a physical response, chemicals in the brain and nerve endings working overtime. But it's over quickly and you have to go back to who and what you were before that brief moment." 

"Claire, do you want to talk about it? Are you OK?" 

She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was a smile of resignation. "No...it's fine. I just think a lot. Too much, sometimes. And I once dated a guy who just thought that as long as I could have an orgasm during sex, then everything must be OK- for me and for our relationship." 

"That's...naïve," I said, trying to gauge if I subconsciously ever thought that about Morgan. 

"Yeah, well it turned out he was just running from his own problems, too, and was trying to hide from them by constantly seeking sex. We didn't last long." 

"Understandably," I muttered. I also noticed that she had managed to avoid answering my question. She had deftly diverted the topics to be about someone else. I wondered again if she really was OK with being alone, OK with the path she was choosing. While I was still thinking, Claire said, "I don't know how early you get up, but I think we could easily get in another couple episodes before you need to go." 

Reaching for my pants, I said, "Fire it up!" She smiled and grabbed the remote. 

******* 

Before I left that night, Claire had told me that, even though we would be having sex the next night, she didn't want to kiss. "Still too personal," she said. "But your lips will be allowed to go anywhere below my neck, and so can your hands, so...I hope that's enough." 

"It'll have to be," I said. 

Sunday was my day off, and the rain continued for most of the morning. Needing to get out, I went to some batting cages after lunch. The rain had stopped in the late morning, and I knew there wouldn't be many people out yet. I texted Marco to see if he wanted to join me. He was busy helping one of his pro bono clients- a women's shelter a few blocks from the batting cages. He said he'd let me know when he was done, in case I was still there. 

The batting cage was a bittersweet place for me. I had played baseball in high school and was good. Like, state home run records good. I managed a partial scholarship to college, which was rare in baseball. But during my junior year, I took a nasty fall while working on some trees. My left leg shattered, and it took over a year of surgeries and physical therapy to get it usable again. I was glad I hadn't banked on a baseball career, even though I had been headed in that direction. My major was practical and I had been doing fairly well in my classes. But the batting cage would always remind me of a life that could have been. 

I still liked to hit. The crack of the bat, the whistle of the ball sailing through the air, the smell of the leather and the wood and the grass. I loved the feeling- the sting of my hands when I make contact with the ball. I could still handle some of the faster and trickier settings of the pitching machine. My dad used to say that I had special eyes- that I saw things in slow motion and knew where the ball would be. 

This was one of those days when I just needed to hit. I would knock the balls away into the net, letting my mind wander. Sometimes I would work through a whole bushel of balls without realizing it, and meanwhile I had worked through a tricky problem from work or what to do about an argument with Morgan. 

Sometimes I'd just hit slow pitches and think about my parents. I missed them a lot. Marco had told me on more than one occasion that he thought my desire for a family was a reaction to their absence from my life. He was probably right. Mom had moved back to Puerto Rico as soon as I started middle school in the States. I guess it was an unofficial divorce, but my parents were too Catholic to ever make it official or to call it that. Dad had raised me, but he died a few months before I met Morgan. Marco was right. I was so hurting for a family that I had just jumped into a relationship with Morgan, not really thinking it through or getting to know her. 

"Uncle Russ! Uncle Russ!" I turned around to see Marco's two older boys gripping the fence and hollering to me. Becca stood behind them and waved. When I walked over, she said, "Marco told me you were here. Can the boys join you while I run some errands? Marco will pick them up." 

"I don't know," I said with a smile. "If they stay, they have to take turns at bat..." 

That just made the boys scramble to get inside the cage. Becca smiled and thanked me as she walked away, her little ones in tow. She must have been about seven or eight months pregnant, and yet she still managed to keep up with all the kids. An amazing woman. 

The boys and I hit balls for another hour before Marco showed up. He told the boys they had to leave, but that they were welcome to try to talk me into coming over for the rest of the day. I was about to agree when I remembered that it was Sunday and that I was just biding my time until I could have sex with Claire that evening. 

"Sorry boys, Uncle Russ has plans this evening," I said to a chorus of Awwww's. As the boys put their equipment away, Marco looked at me curiously and said, "What kind of plans would preempt..." He stopped when I raised my eyebrows. "Oooohhhh. Still...doing that, huh? OK then." 

"Last time this month. Contractual obligation and all, you understand, right?" 

"No contract I've ever put together," he muttered as the boys came running back. 

We left the batting cages together in the mid-afternoon. Still needing to burn a few hours, I went grocery shopping, then headed home to make dinner. On my way back home, Claire texted, Anytime after 6 is fine. My cock swelled in anticipation.



The Conception Deception Ch. 04



Chapter 4- For Catharsis 

Putting away my groceries, a thought popped into my head. I quickly texted Claire, Would you like to go out to dinner first? I wondered if that would make the evening nicer or more 'personal' for her, and I felt a little bad about not asking sooner. 

A few minutes later, she replied, Thanks, but no. Trying not to make this more than it is. OK? 

I wrote back, Got it. It was just as well. I didn't want this to be anything more, either. And going out to dinner with Claire, knowing what we would be doing afterwards but still having to wait, would be worse than hanging around my apartment, waiting for it to happen. Even after a cool shower and dinner, I still had an hour to wait. 

I probably checked the time every other minute from 5 o'clock on. I tried to find something to do- I scrolled through news online, I planned out some work for the week, I did a few push-ups, I plugged in my bass. Anything to keep myself from jerking off to relieve the sexual tension I felt. Finally, it was two minutes before 6. I figured that was close enough, and I headed down the stairs. 

Claire answered shortly after I knocked. We were both wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and her full, dark hair was held back in a ponytail. I had figured it would be something like this- no make-up, no candles and music, nothing special. This wasn't about her, it was about me- my lust, my desire. 

"Hey," she said, "sorry about...dinner. I mean..." 

"I get it," I assured her. "I just didn't know what would make this easier for you." 

"Aside from changing your mind?" she said jokingly, but not without a hint of hope. 

"Aside from that." 

"It's fine. I can do this. It's just not my first choice, you know. Nothing personal, it's just..." she trailed off. 

"I get it. Really," I said, not quite sure I did, but willing to fake understanding if that helped her. 

"Thanks. You really are a sweet guy," she said, leading us back to the bedroom. "But I guess that's partly because you want to keep getting laid." 

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, right?" I joked. 

"Or don't upset the pussy that fucks you," she added, using cruder language than I had heard her use before. I tried to picture Claire getting drunk at a club, hanging on obnoxious guys, grinding against a stranger, trying to decide if she was going to go home with someone. The image just didn't fit with the Claire I knew. I got comfortable on the bed while Claire made her arrangements to settle in after the deed was done. She had trail mix in a bowl and a glass of tea for each of us. 

I started to think about the other girls I'd seen in clubs and how I so quickly judged them. How many of them were more like Claire most of the time, but trying desperately to stop feeling lonely for a few hours, just like I was? What was Dominique like the rest of the week? Did she cry after she left my apartment? Did she go back out the next night, vainly trying again to fill that hole in her heart? Was she ever tempted to do what Claire had done, and just give up? 

"So what'd you do today?" she asked casually, climbing onto the bed next to me. 

"Tried not to think about tonight," I said without missing a beat. Claire laughed, and I said, "Seriously, though, I went to the batting cages for a while, and Marco's boys joined me after a while." 

"Oh, nice. You play ball?" 

"Used to. But I ended up in landscaping. Go figure." 

"Speaking of baseball," she said, "a funny thought occurred to me today." 

"What's that?" I asked. 

"Do you realize were running the bases backwards?" 

I gave her a quizzical look, not understanding what she meant at first. 

"The bases...you know. Penetration is a home run, but we did that first." Casually sliding off her sweatpants, she said, "Then we moved on to touching below the waist- third base." 

I pulled off my shirt, and catching on, I smiled and said, "Ohhh, and second base was Friday night- I touched boobs." 

"So eloquent, aren't you?" she joked, pulling her shirt over her head. 

I looked at her breasts for the first time. So simple, so flawless. I put my hand gently on her side and moved it slowly up. "Sorry, blood is leaving my brain and relocating to more urgent regions of my body. Words not working right." 

"Men," she said with fake disdain. 

"So...what about first base?" I asked, curious. "I know it's off limits tonight, but..." 

"Kissing? I think that's going to be a firm line in the sand. I really want you to respect that, OK?" 

"That's fine, Claire. I can respect that," I said, meanwhile thinking that sand is a bad place to draw a line. 

******* 

After giving me a few moments to stare at and caress her chest, Claire said softly, "Come on, come on. I'm starting to get self-conscious here." 

"Sorry...it's just..." 

"I know, I know. This might be the only time you'll ever see them and you want to take it all in." 

That wasn't what I was thinking, but no need to correct her. With a hand on her shoulder, I firmly guided her onto her back, then spent an eternity drinking in her body. I took full advantage of the permission I had to touch everywhere. My lips went from her neck down to her hips, then from her toes up to her inner thighs. When I got there, she said softly, "It's up to you, but I'm not crazy about the idea of oral tonight." 

Like I said before, I don't mind it, but I much prefer intercourse, so I was happy to act like I was conceding to her wishes. My kisses trailed back up her abdomen and landed around her breasts. My hands, meanwhile, had been gripping her tight thighs, but now were firmly planted on her lower back. 

"Do you work out?" I mumbled in between kisses. I was concentrating on the bottom of her breasts, exploring the area where her chest began to curve out. "I can feel your muscles. You're really toned." 

Claire put a hand on my head and said, "It's mostly just good genetics. But I do Pilates and yoga a few times a week." 

"What would it take to convince you to do a round of naked yoga for me?" 

"Get me pregnant, and I just might consider it a fitting reward." 

"Hmm," I hummed, my mouth around a hardening nipple. 

"Want me to use the vibe now or after?" she asked. 

"Both," I replied quickly, having anticipated that question. 

"OK, then," she said. Then pushing gently on my head, she ordered, "Up." 

I let go of her with a sigh and rolled away, slipping off my pants in the process. Claire pulled her vibrator out of the drawer and went straight to work. Seeing no reason not to, I began touching her all over. My hands cradled her hips and I kissed around her bellybutton. 

Rather than cum after a few seconds, like she usually did, Claire backed off the vibe just before it happened. After slowing her breathing for a moment, she made contact again, circling her clit but not touching it. Her breathing sped up, and I moved my hands slowly up her ribs. Just as she started to gasp, she pulled away again. I lifted up my head and looked at her face, trying to figure out her game. Without even opening her eyes, she said with a slight groan, "Just trying to get wet enough for you. One more go outta do it." 

I shook my head and smiled. Claire really was something special. The thought that this friendly, sexy woman was being denied to mankind was a damn shame. 

Claire worked herself up one more time, and it only took a half minute of circling her clit with the vibe before she moved it across her nub and came with a very feminine shout. Her free hand flew up by her head and she pushed her fingers into her hair. One leg stretched out and the other curled up, forcing her on to her side. I followed her roll and latched my mouth onto a nipple, eliciting another cry and a hand on my back. The feel of our skin touching charged the air with desire. I felt an animalistic urge to jump on top of her and begin rutting. 

I backed up and looked at Claire, her body still trembling, her face and upper chest glistening with sweat, her eyes closed and her mouth open, sucking in air. I held still and listened to my heart racing. I wanted to wait until she was ready. I wanted to be considerate and patient and let her lead. I wanted to think of her needs, and yet I watched as my hands moved of their own accord, grabbing her hip and rolling her onto her back. I told myself to ask her something, to caress her gently, but even as those thoughts passed across my consciousness, I was kneeling in between her legs and spreading them. Not concerning myself with accuracy, I let my hands find pleasure in her form while my cock poked around, finding the warmest spot between her legs.  

Before I could settle in and thrust, however, Claire's eyes shot open. With no warning, her hands moved between us, pushing my chest. One of her legs wrapped around one of mine and pulled it out from under me, throwing me off balance and landing me on my side. It was like a judo move in bed. Claire's hands guided my fall until I was on my back, with her straddling my hips. 

"Let me be clear," she said, still panting. "You tell me before you cum and we'll switch. But until then, I'm on top." 

"Yes, ma'am," I got out, hoping I sounded playful and not intimidated. 

With one hand, she held my shaft, and I winced at the tightness of her grip. It took her just a second to line it up and then only another second to sink down on it. Claire began a forceful, steady motion that was partly up-and-down and partly back-and-forth. Part sliding, part bouncing, it felt wild. I started thrusting, but it only messed up her perfect rhythm. 

"This," she grunted, "is one thing," another grunt, "I can't do...ooohhh...with a vibrator." 

I could find no appropriate words, nor did I need to. I lay back, taking in the memorable sight of Claire moving on top of me. It was a sight I knew I would remember the rest of my life. Her lips slightly parted, her brow wrinkled in concentration, and the sheen of sweat on her breasts glimmering in the faint glow of the TV. I felt a little like a bystander in the moment, an observer of something sacred. I slid my hands onto her breasts, cupping them gently. They weren't heavy in my hands, but as she moved I still felt them wiggle slightly. I squeezed and massaged very softly, and Claire put her hands on my own for a moment and whispered, "That's good." 

Claire moved her hips solely for her own pleasure, pushing and grinding towards her own release. But the wonderful thing about being a man having sex with a woman who is pursuing her own pleasure on your body is that your own pleasure is an inevitable by-product. I could have closed my eyes and let her bring me to release with no effort at all. Instead, I was forced to exert some effort holding back. 

I breathed loudly in and out through my nose, opening my eyes to look around the room, seeking distraction. Pottery...her hobby. Pictures...pictures of what? What was it that had bothered me about the pictures in her place? Pictures of friends...pictures of college...no family. Odd. 

I was pulled out of my musings when Claire collapsed onto me, her breath hot in my ear. Her grinding had become more intentional, slower, but more focused. Suddenly, she breathed out a quiet, shaky, "Ohhhhhhhhh..." and her legs tightened around my waist. I moved my hands from her hips, where I had been resting them, and held onto her ass, which was small and tight and easily contained in my two hands. Claire hissed in my ear, sucking in a deep breath of air, and her thighs squeezed even tighter. Her walls clenched around my base, milking me, urging me to join her. 

I didn't see any reason not to do so. While she was still squeezing me but clearly winding down, I wrapped my arms around her back, rocked one way, then rolled us over in the other direction. I clenched her tight with my arms and thrust. Claire's arms were trapped in my embrace, and I wasn't intending to let go. She moved her hands up to my hips and pushed up in time with my thrusts. 

I could have cum anytime after we rolled, but I wanted to enjoy just a few moments of using her body as I willed. Clutching her shoulder with one hand and keeping the other wrapped around her back, I pulled her down towards me. For another minute, I thrust as hard as I dared, marveling at how easy it was to move her slim body however I wanted. My gut started to tingle and my breathing got frantic. 

"Gonna cum..." I warned her. 

When I could hold back no longer, I strained and cried out, pushing in to the root. Claire whimpered at the force of my final thrust, then pulled her knees up towards her chest a little. I thought I was already in as deep as possible, but that last little movement made me feel her lips clasped around my base just as I began to release. I felt my cock tremble inside her at the force of my cum. I wiggled my hips, trying to feel again and again the sensation of her tight entrance gripping me, squeezing me. Damn, she felt good. So much better than any woman I had been with in a long time, perhaps ever. 

I stayed in that position, deep inside her, arms clutching her, feeling the last spasms of my release. Only after I had finished cumming could I find words to react with. "Oh...God! Oh wow. Oh man...That's one for the record books." 

Claire tried to laugh, but I think she was too constricted. I loosened my grip and awkwardly wriggled my arms out from under her as she tried to lift her back up to give me room. Sometimes, in that moment right after I cum, I'm tempted to look at the woman and say, "So...my penis is inside you right now, and it's leaving something in there. How crazy is that?" I resisted the urge to vocalize that thought, but it came to mind just the same. And as always, the very thought made me laugh, which was hard to do without having fully caught my breath. 

"Something funny?" she asked, stretching her arms out. 

"Sex is weird," I said. 

"Wwwwhat?!" she said, pushing me up off of her with surprising strength. 

"No no no no no...not like that...like...I don't mean sex with you is weird. Although it kind of is...because of our whole contract...but I just mean sex itself...is weird. Don't you think?" 

She relaxed a bit once it was clear I wasn't insulting her, but it was still time for me to pull out, and my soft cock landed with a gentle plop on my thigh as I stretched out next to her on the bed. 

Claire thought for a few seconds, then said, "Sex is just...sex. It's not weird or normal, it just is. You can have weird sex, but how can sex itself be weird?" she asked, reaching for the pillow to prop up her hips. 

"I just put a part of my body inside your body. Which, to begin with, sounds like science fiction. We moved our bodies around, repeatedly reenacting the putting of my body part into the hole in your body, and then at some point, you had an involuntary reaction that involved muscle spasms and uncontrolled vocalizations. Shortly after that, I had a similar reaction that ended with some fluids I've been carrying around in my body shooting violently into your body, where they will stay. And sometimes, when that happens, a human being begins to exist." 

Claire lay there silently, staring at the ceiling for a minute. Then she said with amazement, "Sex...is the weirdest thing ever." 

"I know, right? How did we come to just accept it as normal? And why are we so obsessed with it? When you take away all the emotional and relational trappings and just think about the act itself..." 

"And why is it that two people can do this just once and accidentally create a fucking life without wanting to, and yet some people try for years and can't get the same result, even when both of them are totally fertile?"  

"It just seems like a joke, doesn't it?" I asked rhetorically. 

"I don't even want to think about it. Man, now you've got me weirded out. A part... of your body...was just inside my body. And we like doing it! Jeez! Hand me the remote, will ya? I'm not using the vibe again. It would be...anticlimactic...excuse the pun." 

I passed her the remote and she started up the next episode of our show. I didn't want to comment that we were both still naked- if she wanted to give me a free show, I'd take it. I did, at least, pull the bed sheet up over us, wishing she would curl up beside me, under my arm. Instead, she pulled the bowl of trail mix off the nightstand and put it on the bed between us. 

We watched two episodes, talking a little after each one. After the second episode was finished and we had shared our thoughts on it, I reached under the covers and put my hand on her stomach. "Once more for good measure?" I asked. 

She turned sharply to look at me in disbelief and said, "Uhhh...no. Especially not after you freaked me out with that whole 'sex is weird' conversation. It'll take me a whole month just to shake that thought." 

I pulled my hand away and shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying. I mean, we're already naked and in bed- I can be quick." 

Claire threw the covers off, jumped out of bed and pulled a shirt on. "Not anymore," she said, smiling smugly, and then headed for the bathroom. 

"I can still be quick, and you can keep the shirt on!" I hollered, only half serious, and grasping at straws. 

"You better not be naked when I get back in the room," she hollered back. 

I was already getting my pants on anyway, but just to be snarky, I yelled, "Define naked!" 

She poked her head out of the bathroom and looked right into my eyes, saying, "any state of undress that you would not want to find yourself in if I threw you out on your ass." She was joking, clearly, but serious about me getting dressed. I was glad I at least had my pants on when she saw me. 

After another minute, she came back in the room, pulling on a pair of sleek silk boxers and turning off the TV. I was standing up to leave, and she said, "I'll let you know in a few weeks if...you know..." 

"If we need to try again," I said. "But I'll see you before then, too. I'm hoping we can have another jam session soon. We didn't talk about that yet, but...I had a blast." 

Claire smiled and nodded. "Me too. Let me know when. It doesn't have to be a weekend- you should find out what evenings Mona has off." 

"Good idea," I said, standing in her bedroom doorway, reluctant to leave. 

Claire took a deep breath and said, "Russel...next time...if we need a next time...it's not going to be like this month, OK?" 

"How to you mean?" I asked, a little nervous. 

"Like...working up to sex...more stuff each time...it won't be like that. Next month...if we need it...we'll go with what you said you'd do." 

"Remind me," I said, unsure what I had promised. 

"Three days of just putting it in at the end. We would only have sex on the last day. That's what you said." 

I nodded slowly, "I seem to recall that. I can't say I wouldn't prefer something else, but I'll take what I can get." 

"Thank you," she said softly. "And thank you in advance for not pressuring me or making a big deal out of it." 

I just shrugged in response. After a moment's silence, while Claire climbed into her bed and opened her laptop, I straightened up and said, "Welp, see you around!" and headed back to a quiet apartment. 

******* 

Mona said she'd get back to me later, but that her week was going to be too busy. Possibly the next week. And she might have found another person to jam with us. Work for me was steady and uneventful, which is the best way for it to be. I went to Marco's for dinner one evening, though I didn't get time alone with him. Instead, I hung out in the kitchen with both Marco and Becca, hearing all about the last trimester and birth plans and what they're going to do once they outgrow a minivan. I told them about my Rainy Day Band, which made Marco inexplicably happy. He had been telling me I needed a hobby and new friends, so I guess he thought this was two birds with one stone, though I hardly considered Rusty and Mona to be friends after one jam session. 




The Conception Deception Ch. 04



Friday afternoon, I was just getting home when I got a call from Claire. 

"Hey. Sorry to call, but...I can't wait until next month. You need to come over," she said with a sense of frustration in her voice. 

"Um, sure," I responded. 

"Are you free tonight? I can order some food, if you want to come sooner." 

"Yeah, I've got nothing else to do right now. Let me just take a quick shower." 

"OK. Pizza or wings?" 

"Whatever you're in the mood for," I said truthfully. "They both sound good." 

"Alright. Just come down whenever you're ready." 

"Will do," I said, then felt compelled to ask, "Claire...we're talking about watching TV, right?" 

"Of course," she answered, without a hint of humor. 

"Damn. OK, see you soon." 

******* 

We feasted on a bucket of wings and binge-watched four episodes that night, finally getting to one that didn't end on a cliff-hanger. 

"OK, I think I'll be alright for a few weeks now," Claire said, getting off the bed and turning on the light. 

Rubbing my eyes, I said, "I know what you mean. That resolved a lot, but still left the whole rest of the season wide open." 

"Glad you gave it a second chance?" 

"Yes. Thank you." 

And that was it. Over the next week and a half, we just saw each other in passing. The weather was perfect- clear and mild- so I managed to get in a lot of extra work, finishing a few contracts early, which is always a good thing. Rusty and Mona bugged me about when we could meet again, and we figured out that the next Sunday afternoon would work for everyone. 

On Sunday, Claire texted and asked me to show up a little early for the jam session. I assumed she wanted help setting up, but when I got there, it was clear she was upset. 

"I guess you want to talk?" I said as I walked into her apartment, not sure how to invite myself into a conversation. 

Claire waved her hand and said, "I'm fine." Her eyes were red from crying and she sniffled between sentences. "I'm crampy and moody and pretty sure I'm not pregnant. I think I'll know for sure by tonight. But assuming that's the case, I wanted to talk to you about the next time." 

I started moving the chairs around and setting up instruments while she talked. 

"So, long story short, the next time we're due, I'm supposed to be at a wedding out of town. We could skip a month, which is fine. Or...I wondered if you'd be up for a road trip. Not far, just 6 hours away. But it's too far to make it a day trip, and I'm supposed to be at the rehearsal dinner the night before, and the wedding is the next afternoon, so I'm looking at two nights right in the back half of our ideal time." 

I stood up straight to try to read her. She seemed indifferent either way, but I knew that couldn't be the case. "So you're suggesting I tag along...just for a few minutes each evening?" 

"That's the worst way to put it. You could come to the wedding as my guest, and we could be clear that you're just a friend. So you'd get a nice meal out of it, at least." 

"But I wouldn't be allowed to try to pick up any desperate bridesmaids," I said, pretending to sound put off. 

"The desperate bridesmaids are mostly my cousins, so double no," she said sternly. "You could spend time in the city, be a tourist, whatever. I'd pay for your hotel and I'd drive, and cover food...You'd be getting a free vacation, Russell." 

"I know, I'm just teasing you a little. I'm not, like, jumping at the chance, but I'm not averse to it, either. Let me see what my work calendar is like that week. We'd need to leave Friday?" 

"And would be back Sunday," she said confidently. "Barely 48 hours." 

A knock at the door paused our conversation. I went to answer it, saying, "I need to check my schedule, but probably yes." 

Rusty and Mona had arrived at the same time, and Rusty said, "Probably yes for me, too." 

Mona shook her head as she stepped inside and said, "What do you even mean most of the time?" 

Rusty shrugged and said, "Hell, I don't know what it is, but I tend to have a much better time saying yes to things than saying no. So I've developed a habit of preemptive yessing." 

Mona paused while opening her case, looked at me and said quietly, "That explains so much." Then she turned her head to Rusty and said, "You are a strange man." 

Rusty just grinned, held his hands out wide and said, "Thank you." It was then that I saw that he had brought an old duffel bag, a rolling suitcase, and his garbage bag from the last time. Noticing my gaze, he said, "No rain today means more drums." 

"Considering how good you made one drum sound, I'm looking forward to hearing them all," Claire said. 

Just then, another knock on the door startled me. Mona said, "Sorry, I forgot to tell you I invited someone else. A guy I work with." 

Claire opened the door and a tall, lean guy about my age walked in. He had a few bags slung over his shoulders. He stopped in the entryway and shook hands with Claire, staring a little too obviously at her face. "Hi, I'm Steve," he said, not breaking eye contact or his handshake until Mona shouted across the room, "Steve, this is Russel and Rusty. The woman you are making uncomfortable is Claire." 

Steve blushed and walked into the room. I went to pull up another chair, but Steve stopped me and said, "No...it's OK. I usually stand when I play." Opening one of his cases, he pulled out a weathered violin. Setting it gently on the couch, he opened another case to retrieve a mandolin, which he set up on a small folding stand. Finally, he opened a square case to reveal a half dozen harmonicas of various sizes. 

We all watched him set up, and Rusty whistled. "The musicality of this group just rose significantly," he commented. Steve didn't look up, but rosined his bow and said, "Different tools for different jobs, that's all." 

Once everyone was set up, including Rusty, who now had quite an ensemble surrounding him, Claire sat down at the keyboard and started playing the chords to a song that had been popular on the radio a few months ago. But she altered the style a little to make it more bluesy, which got Steve reaching for his harmonicas. Mona jumped in with some fills, and Rusty and I kept the rhythm going. 

Over the next few hours, we covered a dozen genres, even a country song and an old Irish drinking song. Turned out that Steve didn't call his instrument a violin. To him it was a fiddle, and he could work its sound into almost any style. As we wrapped up for the day, Claire said, "Steve, what are you doing working at a restaurant? You could do this for a living!" 

Steve smiled wryly and said, "There are a lot of very talented, very unemployed musicians out there. Many of them are much better than I am. It takes a lot of talent and a lot of luck to make it professionally." 

"Then I wish you all the luck in the world," said Claire, "because you certainly have the talent." 

Steve seemed flustered, but Mona just tapped him playfully on the back of his head and said, "See? I told you." Then looking at the rest of us, she said, "He's OK in the kitchen, but you can tell it's not his passion." 

"Well, until you find a better group, please join us any time, Steve," I said, swapping phone numbers with him. 

I walked the group out to the parking lot, helping an appreciative Rusty carry his bags down the steps. When I was turning to leave, Mona said, "Russell, you and Claire should come by the restaurant sometime. Maybe not when Steve's cooking," she joked, smiling Steve's direction as he rolled his eyes, "but if I'm around, you can have a meal on the house." 

I nodded in appreciation and said, "I don't know about Claire, but I'll stop by sometime." 

Mona squinted and looked in my eyes. She leaned in and asked, "You and Claire aren't a thing?" 

Feeling like Mona could read my mind, especially when she squinted like that, I chose my words carefully. "No...we're not dating or anything. We're neighbors, but she didn't even know it was me when she called about the ad." 

Mona stared another few seconds, then her expression switched from suspicious to disinterested. "OK. Well, when you see her, let her know what I said." Then with a wink, she put her guitar in the trunk of her car and waved goodbye. I went upstairs to help move Claire's furniture back around. She was just coming out of the bathroom and gave me a big thumbs down. "Try, try again," she said with a sigh, slumping onto her couch. Not knowing how to react honestly and sympathetically, I picked up my gear, walked to the door, and said, "Just...let me know what I can do." 

"Thanks Russ. Let me know about the wedding, OK?" 

"Sure thing," I promised, opening the door. 

"And Russ...Mona thinks you're cute." 

"Mona scares me," I replied. 

"She watches you while you play. I can tell she's got more than a musical interest in you." 

"Well, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that Steve might have a similar interest in you." 

Claire blushed and said, "He seems sweet." Then she looked at me and said, "But I'm serious. Mona. I'd put money on it." 

"Are you going to tell her she needs to back off, because my sperm belong you?" Claire just laughed and I said, "Let me know if you do, because I would pay handsomely to watch that conversation go down." 

As I spoke, Claire lay down on the couch, curling her legs up towards her body. "Uuugh. Throw me that bottle of Tylenol next to you, OK?" she said in a voice muffled by the pillow pressing her cheek. I walked the bottle over to her and set it on the coffee table. 

"Thanks," she muttered, closing her eyes. "I feel like poop." 

"Sorry," I said gently. 

"You should be. You're supposed to make this stop happening," she said, half-serious. 

I saw myself out. 

******* 

Claire calculated that her next window would be from Wednesday through Saturday, with the wedding being on Saturday. I agreed to meet her at her hotel on Friday, but we planned not to drive up together. I had some college friends that lived out that direction, so I planned to meet up with them Thursday night. Claire and I would meet real quick on Thursday before I left, then we'd share a hotel room (with separate beds) for Friday and Saturday nights. 

That Wednesday, we met in the evening for our first attempt. I wasn't surprised but was nonetheless disappointed when Claire answered the door wearing her "trap door" pants. She led us back to the bedroom, climbed on the bed and said, "You know the drill. Just give me a few seconds of warning." She pulled open the flap, and I could see her folds glistening a little from the lube she had already applied. 

I sat on the chair, which was angled such that I could jerk off while looking at Claire. She was oblivious to my stare, working on a crossword puzzle as she lay back, her legs bent and crossed. She innocently bounced a foot in the air and chewed on the cap of her pen. She did crossword puzzles in pen- that was bold. 

I started to stroke myself faster, remembering what Claire looked and felt like the last time we had done this. I remembered the heavenly vision of her body writhing on top of me while holding me deep inside her. It only took me a few minutes to feel my balls churning. "Claire..." I said softly, still stroking furiously. I stood up, waiting for her to get to the edge of the bed. 

"Hmm?" she grunted, not looking up, then, "Oh...sorry!" She uncrossed her legs, but I was too close to wait for her to scoot to the edge. Climbing onto the bed, I pushed her legs open and guided myself in. I started cumming just as I entered. 

I groaned as I came, and Claire held her crossword puzzle to the side, where she could still see it. I pulled out as soon as I was done pulsing inside her, then tossed her the pillow I had accidentally knocked off the bed. She propped it under her ass, closed her flap and casually asked, "You sticking around?" 

I sat back in the chair and said, "I think I have another episode or two in me tonight." Claire smiled without looking away from her puzzle, wrote a few letters down, then tossed it aside. 

"Hand me the remote..." 

******* 

Before I left that night, Claire and I got our story straight. She pointed out that people would probably assume, no matter what we said, that I was her boyfriend, despite the age difference. That was one funny moment in our conversation, when it became clear that neither of us knew how old the other one was. 

"Guess," she told me, when I asked her age. A big, tight-lipped smile spread over her face and her eyes were playfully wide. 

"Don't do that to me. That's just cruel," I begged her. 

"Guess," she demanded, more seriously. 

"Fine. I'd say 32." 

Claire turned down the corners of her mouth and grunted while nodding her head. "I'm impressed. You went for honesty over obvious flattery or pandering." 

"How'd I do?" 

"Close. I turn 32 in a couple months." 

I was relieved that I wasn't too far off. Then I asked her, "And me? What's your guess?" 

"Well, you've got this boy-ish face, which makes me think you're probably older than you look. I'll say 29." 

"Twenty-six," I said, watching her eyes go wide. 

"Oh God," she said softly. 

"It's OK...I'm really twenty-six and a half," I joked. 

"We wouldn't have even been in high school at the same time," she mused. "You were 12 when I started college!" 

"Claire," I said, trying to snap her out of a daze, "it's no big deal. We're not a couple or anything, right?" 

She shook her head clear and said, "You're right. It's just...I'm thinking of this weekend and what to tell people." 

"Easy," I said, having thought this through already on my own. "We're neighbors, we are in a music group that jams together, and I happened to mention a business trip this weekend that would be in the same city that you were going to be visiting. You invited me to the wedding as a friend." 

"Sounds plausible, except for the business trip part. What will you do when people ask about your business? Tell them you have a lawn to mow?" 

I narrowed my eyes at that comment. Claire obviously didn't understand what I did. I took a breath to calm myself down and said, "I just landed a contract with a conference center outside of town here. They don't know what they want me to do yet, so I'm researching similar sites before I make a proposal." 

Claire looked at me and said, "OK...I'm very impressed. Did you just make that up?" 

I laughed and said, "No no no no. It's all true- everything I just said is one of my current projects. The only stretching of the truth is that I'm not traveling 6 hours away to do research. There's enough stuff nearby and enough pictures online that I don't need to do that. But I doubt anyone would press that issue. Usually at occasions like that, people's eyes glaze over once the words, 'contract,' 'proposal,' and 'research' make their way into a sentence." 

"Guilty," she said, raising her hand to confess. 

"So I think we'll have no problems avoiding any nosy aunts and well-meaning cousins." 

"Yeah..." she said, her mind clearly working on something. "About that...I guess Friday night would be the best time to give you the run down on some things to expect. That way you'll remember it better on Saturday." 

"OK," I said, "just make sure you don't get too drunk at the rehearsal dinner to remember to talk to me about it." 

Claire surprised me by simply sighing and saying in a sad voice, "We'll see." 

******* 

Thursday was the same thing as Wednesday, only it was at noon, instead of at night. Claire took a half day off work that day, and I had put my assistant in charge from Thursday through Saturday. We met at her place, and Claire sat on her bed eating a salad while I rubbed myself, sitting in the chair next to her bed. 

Once again, I let my memories of last month and my anticipation of Saturday fuel my fantasies, and in a few minutes I was warning Claire to get ready. This time, she made it to the edge of the bed just as I stood up. I sank into her and needed a few hard thrusts to finish. It was at the same time satisfying and disappointing. I tried to remember that at least we would be having sex that weekend...and once a month for as long as...well, for until one of us called it off. 

As I pulled out, Claire asked me, "So you're sure you have the address and directions and everything?" 

"All set," I said, taking a deep breath and feeling not quite ready to talk. I was still just beginning to soften and would have liked to still be inside her when I did. 

"And you've packed your fancy clothes...and nice shoes...and..." 

"I'm a big boy, Claire. I can take care of myself." 

"I used to babysit kids who are now the same age as you," she couldn't resist pointing out. "I feel some level of responsibility for you. Plus, I don't want you forgetting something and making Saturday any more stressful than it needs to be." 

"I promise, I'm all set. Trust me." 

She closed her eyes and sighed, then said, "I know. Really, I do, and I know I can trust you...more so than most guys I've gotten to know." 

"Well," I said, not wanting to think about the extent to which I was violating her trust, "I'm going to change my pants and hit the road. I'll see you tomorrow at the hotel." 

"You'll be there by seven, right? I don't want to lose the room." 

"I'll be there by four, most likely. I'll hit the pool, probably, but I should be back in the room by the time you get back from the rehearsal dinner." 

"OK. I'm just nervous that something's going to go wrong." 

"It'll be fine- it's not that complicated," I said, zipping my jeans and heading to the bathroom to wash my hands. I considered that she was probably nervous about something else, and odds were it had a lot to do with facing her family. But it was easier to channel those fears towards something concrete, like the logistics of the weekend. 

I shook my hands dry and walked towards the door. 

"Can you keep me posted, so I know everything's working out?" she asked nervously. 

"I'll text you when I check in tomorrow," I said, trying to veil my impatience. 

"I guess that's good enough," she said, biting her fingernail. 

I opened my mouth to share some words of encouragement or assurance, but not knowing what the deal was with her family, I thought better of it, and left with a simple, "See you tomorrow." 

******* 

I drove for four hours, listening to a few new albums I had bought for the trip. Jamming with Claire and the others had renewed my passion for music, and I was trying to expand my horizons. I had asked each of my fellow jammers to recommend one album, then bought all four of their recommendations. Not everything was my style, but there's something uniquely enjoyable about listening to something you normally wouldn't. And knowing that I could go talk to Rusty or Mona or Steve or Claire about the album they liked was reason enough to give them a few listens. 

That evening, I met up with a few college friends for dinner- some guys I had known from playing baseball. None of them had gone pro- I was the only one at our school who had seemed to be headed down that path- and the three of them had coincidentally ended up in the same city, all working very different jobs. We hadn't seen each other in 5 years, and it was nice to catch up and swap old stories. Two of the four of us were still single, and I was the only one who was technically 'unattached.' I tuned out a lot of the talk about kids. I could smile and nod and make appropriate responses, but I really didn't want to think about it. 

Most of them knew I had been engaged, but not all of them had known that Morgan had left me. That led to a lot of conversation about women and the trouble they bring. I never feel totally comfortable when men start complaining about their wives like that, but as I listened, I couldn't help but think about how Claire measured up. I didn't think of her as my girlfriend- not even close. But she was my friend, and we did occasionally have something resembling sex. And to be honest, Claire measured up pretty favorably. 




The Conception Deception Ch. 04



But that only got me feeling guilty again. I was hurting her, and she didn't even know it. 

That night, I stayed with another college friend, Kenny. We had been roommates for two years, and not just roommates but friends, wingmen, emotional support. It was good to see him, and we stayed up late drinking and commiserating. He was fresh off a broken engagement, though in his case, he had been the one to pull the plug. 

"I came to the point where I realized that I was only marrying her because I was afraid to be alone," he told me, before the alcohol had made such conversation impossible. "It's crazy how that fear made me compromise so much- she was all wrong for me, and we both knew it. But neither of us wanted to face an empty bed at night and no one to have coffee with in the morning." I wondered how much of my tenacity with Morgan had been driven by that same fear. 

But was that so bad? Was that fear all wrong? Being alone didn't seem natural, and I'd never met anyone who still felt like their spouse was the ideal person for them once they got five or ten years into their marriage. Maybe life- and marriage- was about learning to compromise. And maybe the best couples are the ones who have learned to compromise on the right things. 

Kenny didn't need to work until the afternoon, so we were able to sleep off our hangovers and take time getting me fresh enough to be back on the road. I left his place a little after lunch and drove the last two hours to the hotel I would be sharing with Claire. During those two hours, I kept the music off. The only sound was the occasional suggestion coming from my GPS. I used those two hours to think. By the time I reached the end of my drive, I had decided that it was time to do the right thing. I couldn't keep stringing Claire along. I was using her for sex. When it started, she was a virtual stranger, so I didn't feel too bad about it. But now, in our third month, I realized I would be pissed off if someone else was treating her the way I was now treating her. I would be angry on my friend's behalf. 

But how to go about it? If I told her why it had to stop, there was no question it would be the end of our friendship. And it would probably do some serious damage to her ability to trust anyone again. But if I didn't give a reason...I didn't think that could work, unless I lied and said I was worried I was developing romantic feelings for her. 

Maybe Mona was my way out. If Claire was right, there was a chance of something there. And I couldn't deny that I found her attractive- as a musician, as a (slightly intimidating but only when threatened) person, and as a woman. It was still too soon to say, but I might not mind exploring the possibilities, which would give me a clear reason to end it with Claire. The only trick was, I would need to tread lightly- Mona did not seem to be the kind of woman you could approach flippantly. 

But there was a little time to figure all that out. I was at the hotel, about to check in, and I wasn't going to be calling things off until after our stay there, anyway. I got to our room, chose a bed, and settled in. Claire probably wasn't going to be back until late- no earlier than 9pm- so I had time to burn. I took a walk through the touristy part of the city, visited a candy shop to get souvenirs for Marco's kids, took some mental notes on the landscaping at the hotel, swam a few dozen laps at the pool, then went back out for a late dinner at a place with local flavor. 

It was less than ideal, doing all those things by myself. I'm not a chatty person, but it's nice to have someone to share your thoughts with, especially in a new place. I tried to imagine being in Claire's shoes, expecting to often be ordering a table for one. Then I thought of Kenny and remembered how the fear of that very thing can sometimes push us towards an uncomfortable table for two. Shit. I thought all of this would just make sense once I was in my late twenties. Maybe things would be clearer in my thirties...yeah, right. 

******* 

Almost at the lobby, come meet me there, was the text I got from Claire at almost 9:30. I was two minutes away from the hotel, walking back from dinner. I actually met Claire at the entrance, and we walked through the lobby to the elevators together. She needed some help with her bags, even though it was only a two night stay. I hadn't realized she was a bridesmaid, but the big, tacky flamingo-pink dress she had wrapped in plastic made that obvious. The dress itself took two arms to handle, so I pulled her suitcase and slung her backpack over my shoulder. 

Claire didn't say anything other than, "Hi," and "carry something," the whole way up to the room. But even in those few words, I could hear and smell the effect of some alcohol. Once in the room, she walked about, opening bags, putting things in the bathroom, and muttering angrily to herself. I had no intention of interrupting her, and I just waited on my bed, flipping through channels after I hung her dress up in the closet. 

Claire finished settling in and flopped onto the other queen-sized bed. Since the bathroom was available, I went in and brushed my teeth. I walked back to the bed, noticing that Claire was rubbing her eyes and still looking unhappy. I got back onto my bed, having stripped down to just my boxers and a t-shirt. but I felt like I should say something like, "Didn't go well, huh?" to invite conversation, but I still didn't know what land mines I might be stepping on. After a few minutes, Claire spoke up. 

"I know I'm supposed to bring you up to speed on the family drama you're stepping into, but not tonight. We'll have time in the morning." It was a late-afternoon wedding, followed by dinner, so that sounded like it could work. "I need to be at the church at 1pm to get ready, so no need to set the alarm." 

I simply said, "OK." I didn't think it would be a good idea to mention our scheduled insemination. Let her deal with that when she was ready. 

"Was your trip OK?" she asked, rubbing her temples. 

"Yeah...it was good to see friends last night, and I saw a little of the city this afternoon. And...I don't have to deal with anything stressful while we're here, so..." That last line was risky, I knew, but I had to try to make the situation lighter. 

"HA!" Claire said sarcastically. "Just wait until the reception, you'll get enough second-hand stress to make you wish you were back at work." 

"Noted. But since they're out there and we're in here, you wanna pull out your laptop and watch a show to help you unwind?" 

Claire didn't answer at first. Then she hopped out of bed, turned off the light and said, "Strip." 

It never occurred to me to object. By the time she reached my bed, I was naked and hard, ready for whatever she had planned. In the pale light that leaked through our window from the city surrounding us, I could see that Claire was pulling off her bra as she got on the bed. Pushing me onto my back, she said, "I'm angry and on edge and ready to cry. I need a good old-fashioned angry fuck. That's what'll help me unwind...I hope. Let me know if that's a problem- moving sex from tomorrow to tonight." 

By that point, she was straddling me and had my dick lodged between her folds. What was I going to say? A small upward push of my hips was all the consent she needed. Claire pushed down, getting my tip just inside her the entrance to her passage. She wasn't wet...well, a little bit, thanks to the timing of her cycle. But it wasn't the wetness of arousal. Consequently, it was rough going at first. Claire made little motions, pushing down hard every third or fourth time. She was wincing in obvious discomfort, and I wondered if it was herself that she was angry at, herself that she wanted to punish. 

Once I was in and Claire's mound was meshed against my crotch, I could feel that there was moisture deeper inside, but her entrance was still dry. Though I knew it was uncomfortable for her, the tightness it caused and the friction I felt as she started to move up and down was exciting. When she started bouncing hard on me, I worried I wouldn't last long enough for her. I kept my hands stationary, lightly gripping her hips, lest I overstimulate myself. I didn't thrust or push or even move my lower body at all. I feared that one small movement on my part might throw off her rhythm or aim and result in a very painful collision of our lower bodies. Claire's hands were on my shoulders and her elbows were locked, putting all her upper body weight onto those two spots where her palms pushed down on me. It was uncomfortable but tolerable. 

Mercifully, her bouncing, which had been accompanied by some indecipherable profanities and maybe some tears, gave way to slow sliding after a few minutes. That was when she started working towards release. The sliding was pleasant, especially when she moved her hands off my shoulders, stretched herself out on top of me, and wrapped her arms around me. I hissed in pleasure at the feel of her chest on mine- her skin along my skin. 

She gradually sped up, her breathing turning into soft moans. When she started pushing harder against me, she also propped herself up, putting her breasts right into my view. Wordlessly, she cupped a hand behind my head and pulled me towards her. I didn't need to be told- my mouth latched onto a nipple and played with it. My tongue, my lips, and even my teeth pulled on the brown nub, then switched to its twin. Claire put her hand back on the bed, letting me continue the rewarding job of stimulating her breasts. 

Suddenly, both her arms wrapped around my head and held me close to her. The lack of arms propping her up meant that her body dropped onto mine, pushing my head down to the pillow. Claire didn't notice any of this, because she had just started cumming, emitting a long, soft cry as her tunnel squeezed me and her legs shook. I rubbed her back and shoulders as she came, deciding that I really liked the soft and subdued orgasms Claire experienced over the loud and dubious ones I'd witnessed in other women. 

I was pretty sure she was finished cumming, but I remained still as she started to control her breathing again. Out of the blue, she mumbled into my shoulder, "You have about a minute before I fall asleep. Make it count." 

I didn't need a minute. Trusting her inebriation to let me get away with finishing in a different position, I gripped her small ass with both hands and started pushing her up and down along my cock. I pushed up at a quickening pace, finally holding one of those upstrokes an extra second. A few more of those long holds and I was over my peak and racing back down. I pulled Claire towards me a bit, finding a different kind of pressure as I started cumming. Claire groaned a little as I pumped into her, though it was probably sleepiness. 

As soon as I stopped thrusting, Claire lifted a leg and rolled onto her back. She kept rolling, however, until she was on her side with her back to me. I was breathing deep and slow to calm my body down when I felt her hand reaching behind her. It finally landed on my hand, which she then pulled over her body and placed on her chest. I scooted forward to spoon her, listening as she very quickly drifted off. It couldn't have been much longer after that when I joined her in a contented but slightly confused slumber. 

*******



The Conception Deception Ch. 05



Chapter 5- For Commendation 

Sensations. 

Dark room, hair in my face, soft body next to me. Skin. Glorious, smooth, warm skin. Naked skin. My hand moves along the body- small, soft breasts, firm thighs, flat stomach...not Morgan. 

Heavy blanket, cold air-conditioning, strange pillow...not my bed. 

Opening my eyes, dark room, unfamiliar clock shining blue over the body next to mine, making her skin look alien. Lifting my head, I see numbers- a three and something fuzzy after it. That's enough. 

Scooting closer, arm around her body, my growing erection against the cheeks of her ass. I sigh. She sighs, too, and her head turns back a bit towards me. Claire. Hotel. Wedding. Probably didn't plan this. Hopefully won't blame me. 

Eyes still closed, she groaned and mumbled a barely coherent, "You wanna?" 

"What?" 

A small impatient sigh, then her hand reached back and gripped my cock. It throbbed in her hand. "Yeah, you wanna," she stated. 

"But Claire...why..." I didn't want to get accused of taking advantage of her. 

She wiggled her ass back and angled me to slide between her legs, which she parted slightly. Moving my tip around until it was secure in her folds, she said in a whisper, "Because fuck it, that's why. Fuck it all." 

Good enough, I thought, pushing forward all the way in one selfish thrust. 

Claire cried out at my entry. It was probably too much too fast. The excitement of that position- my arms wrapped around her from behind, her tiny ass pressed against me- it stirred up my lust in only a few seconds. Claire moved her hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as I slid in and out of her. No words passed between us, just two people in a strange hotel room, separately seeking their own moment of pleasure with the help of the other one's body. 

Too sleepy to be considerate, I came first and fast. Just three or four minutes after entering her, I began pushing harder, my back arching as I strained to get the deep sensation my cock was craving. Claire's hand was moving quickly, but she was still rubbing when I released. Groaning and gasping, I held deep, fully encased, my jaw clenched and my neck tight with the strain. After a few sprays inside her, I breathed out and relaxed, pulling back before one last push to empty my load. 

Finished, I lay back and flopped my arm onto the bed. My cock was still hard enough to stay inside her, held in place as Claire's walls slowly tightened and released. She was squeezing my member, trying to hasten her own orgasm. Her breath began to hiss in the darkness and her fingers moved faster. Her free hand swung back and flailed at me as she grunted, "Hand! Hand!" I twisted towards her and slid my hand onto her side. She grabbed it and smacked it hard against her breast. I massaged the mound of flesh and pushed my semi-hard tool further in. 

Claire began to cry out with a soft, high-pitched Aaaaahhhhhh that rose in pitch until it was cut off with a strangled gasp. The slow, intentional rhythm of squeezing around my shaft became a rapid twitching and Claire's legs curled up for a second, then stretched out, forcing my cock out of her intimate embrace. Her back curved until her head was pushing into my shoulder. I released her breast and ran my palm firmly up and down the front of her body, pressing on her abdomen and stopping to touch, for the first time with my hand, her exposed clit. Her own hands were gripping the pillow under us, and when I cupped her mound and rubbed a few times, her soft moans switched to a little shout. I held my hand there, gently massaging her folds as she descended. 

A few minutes later, Claire's breathing next to me was gentle and slow. She lifted my hand and removed it from her body. I pulled it back and she got out of bed. I lay on my back again and rested my forearm across my face, closing my eyes and taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow. Claire returned from the bathroom and crawled into the other bed. I drifted off listening to the sound of her breathing in the otherwise silent room. 

******* 

When I woke up again, I could tell from the bright light pushing through the gap in the curtains that it was well after sunrise. I groaned as I sat up, swiveling in the bed and putting my feet on the floor. The need to pee was urgent. Still naked, I walked to the bathroom, squinting in the light. After my morning wood had settled enough for me to relieve my bladder, I slipped quietly back into the room to get dressed. I glanced at Claire's bed, only to realize that what I had thought was her body was just a pile of sheets and pillows. Claire was gone, and on the nightstand was a scribbled note on hotel stationary: Gone to breakfast, see you down there. I still had an hour and a half before the buffet closed, so I turned on the sports channel while I pulled out some clothes. 

With an hour to spare, I made it down to the spacious hotel restaurant. I saw Claire sitting at a table, smiling and talking animatedly with another woman- a younger, bustier version of herself. I walked past the table, not sure how to act. Fortunately, Claire saw me coming and stood up to greet me. With exaggerated friendliness, she gave me a chaste hug and said, "Russell! Good to see you! I'm so glad you could make it. Is your afternoon still available?" 

"Sure is," I said, glancing at the other woman, who was standing and wiping her mouth with a napkin. 

"Kaitlin, this is my neighbor, Russell. It turned out he was going to be in town on business this weekend, so I invited him to the wedding as my plus one." Kaitlin extended her hand to me, and Claire said, "Russell, this is my baby sister and the bride-to-be, Kaitlin." 

We exchanged pleasantries, then Claire gently grabbed my arm and said, "Go ahead and eat, I'll find you when we're done here. We can catch up before the wedding." 

Knowing that my best course of action was to say as little as possible, I just nodded and headed towards the food. My seat was across the room, but I had a mostly unobstructed view of Claire's table. She seemed to be enjoying her conversation, which ended with both of them teary-eyed but smiling and holding hands. About 20 minutes after I had sat down, Claire dropped into the seat across from me. Her eyes were still glistening, and she sniffed a little as she looked off into space. I gave her whatever time she needed, which was about a minute, content to keep stuffing my face with five star hotel food. I was almost ready to order my third custom-made omelet when Claire spoke. 

"This isn't the best environment to talk about my family- a lot of the people in this room are here for the wedding." I raised my eyebrows at that remark. There were easily 150 people still at breakfast. It was going to be a big wedding. 

"I'm going back upstairs in a few minutes. When you're full, meet me up at the room- I don't want people to see us leaving together or knowing we're sharing a room." Mouth full, I nodded in understanding. 

Washing down my food with a glass of what had to be fresh-squeezed orange juice, I said, "Kaitlin seems nice." 

Claire gave me a sad smile and said softly, "She really is. If it wasn't her wedding, I probably wouldn't be here." Then glancing around at the surrounding tables, she lowered her voice and added, "I'm just worried that she's only getting married so she can get away from our family, which I honestly wouldn't blame her for." 

I gave a what-can-you-do? shrug, and Claire continued. "I know it's already her wedding day, so it's too late to stop anything, but if you get a chance to meet the groom, try to get an idea what he's like. I've never met him, and...I worry about my sister." 

"I'll do what I can," I said, not expecting to be of any real help. 

"Thanks Russ," she said sincerely, then picked up my fork, stabbed a few pieces of French toast from my plate and stuffed them in her mouth. She raised her eyebrows in defiance. It was an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet, so I wasn't concerned about losing my food. It was the principle of it. "Hey..." I protested weakly. 

Her mouth was comically full, but she tried to speak softly anyway, losing a few crumbs of toast as she said, "After last night, you owe me, buster." I could easily have pointed out that she had initiated everything both times the previous night, but good sense overruled my pride and I silently conceded her point with a dismissive hand wave. 

Claire stood to leave and said, "Don't be long." 

******* 

Back at the room, Claire gave me a rundown on her family. They were pretty wealthy. Her parents would both be there- physically at least. Her dad would probably have his mind elsewhere. She said he thought that having his body in the room was enough to count as being a good father. Her mother was a first class bitch, according to Claire. "She's got a wicked, hurtful tongue. It's one of the main reasons I moved away as soon as I could." 

The other reason was her brother, Gene. Claire was the oldest child, but Gene was only a year behind. He was handsome and cocky and, according to Claire, a pervert. She didn't elaborate, but simply said she'd be doing everything she could to avoid being near him that weekend. Her sister Holly had major issues- mostly depression and suicidal tendencies. Claire said each sister had dealt with their problems a different way- Claire had disappeared, Kaitlin had become strong and independent, often fighting with their mom, and Holly had been swallowed up in despair. 

In addition, there were aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends- too many to name or describe. Claire said, "Rather than enlighten you on all their miserable qualities, it's easier to just say that hardly any of them is what they seem to be. My Uncle Louis and his kids- Jeff and Violet- are maybe the only exceptions. I don't know about Kaitlin's friends or the groom's family. So basically, anyone that claims to be a friend or relative of mine- with a few exceptions- is someone you should watch out for." It seemed overly critical and pessimistic, but I would later come to think that Claire may have been putting things too gently. 

"Oh, and if my Aunt Gwen is here, she will try to sleep with you. Which is gross, because she's probably in her 50's by now. But just...don't be surprised." 

"And I'm guessing I shouldn't tell her that I'll be coming back to your room so I can jack off into you, right?" 

"Yeah...don't say that. She'd want to come join in. Don't make that face...I'm serious. She needs professional help..." 

"What if I just say I'm a long lost cousin?" 

"Never stopped her before." 

"Oh God." 

"Yep. Welcome to my family..." 

******* 

We had a few hours before Claire needed to leave. Wanting to experience something familiar and comforting, we both suggested watching a couple episodes of our show. 

"Since you're going to be lying on the bed anyway," I said, "do you want to...you know...take care of business now?" 

She thought for a few seconds, then said, "No...your boys need more time to refuel. And maybe after the reception you'll be all worked up and even more ready to pop." 

"OK. It's your call," I said, reminding myself that this would possibly be the last time- if I held to my convictions. 

We watched our shows, then Claire started packing her bags- make-up, hair stuff, shoes, dress, and some stuff I couldn't even identify. She was out the door at a quarter to one, and I thought about how to spend the 3 hours before I needed to leave. 

I began with another swim. There were a few other swimmers, which was unusual at that time of day. After almost an hour of slow laps, I went back to the locker room to dry off and change. Two of the other guys who had been swimming were back there, too. One was almost dressed and was teasing the other about something. I didn't really pay attention until I heard the words "bachelor party." 

"I still can't believe you, though," said a deep, disdainful voice. "She was totally into it, and you're not getting married for another 2 hours. I bet you could still call her up and fuck her before you go to the church. That would be epic, man! I would be proud of you." 

The other guy, presumably Kaitlin's fiance, was clearly uncomfortable. "It's not right, man. I love Kaitlin, I'm marrying her. I'm not going to...have sex...with some girl in a bar just for kicks." 

"You are such a pussy, man. My sister has you so whipped. I mean, she's hot and all- hell, I'd do her in a heartbeat- but you can't let that rule out all your other options. After you left, I took that girl back into the men's room and boom! She didn't even make me use a condom, man! My wife won't know, and even if she does, so what?" 

"I'm not like that, Gene." I felt for the kid. He didn't want to offend his future brother, but Gene was so obviously a low-life. After Gene left, saying he would see Adam at the church, I rounded the corner in my boxers, still drying my hair with a towel. 

"Getting married?" I asked. 

"Yeah," he said sheepishly. "But I think my future brother has a different understanding of what that means." 

"He sounds like an asshole to me," I said. Claire was right- Gene was bad. And after his comment about Kaitlin, I worried that he may have once tried something on Claire. 

The guy sighed and, to my surprise, started opening up to me. "Yeah. I just worry...about her family. Most of them are...a problem. And I know marriage is for better or worse, but I'm getting scared that I can't put up with her family. And she's torn about it, too. I mean, you're supposed to love your family, right? But what if...what if they're just so hurtful and destructive?" 

"Well, I'm no expert," I said, holding up a ring-less left hand, "but I've always though that marriage means you start a new family. If your girl is so different from her relatives and wants to get some distance from them, then I say fuck 'em. You're loyal to her. And you might even need to protect her from them." 

His head down, he sniffed and rubbed his eyes. 

"Especially from that douche bag," I added, which got a laugh. I was putting my shoes back on and making sure I'd grabbed my phone and wallet from the locker. 

"Thanks," he said, pulling a shirt over his head. "I needed that. Maybe it's just the jitters, but part of me wants to stay in here until it's over." 

I smiled and said, "Well, let me at least make sure you get out of the locker room. After that, it's up to you." 

He smiled and said, "Deal," as we headed towards the exit together. 

******* 

The wedding was big and lavish, held in a church that was at least a century old. The architecture was beautiful, and I couldn't help but admire the landscaping, which was first-class. Claire stood up front, along with Kaitlin's best friend and maid of honor, and four other girls, one of which had to be Holly, and the other three most likely being cousins, from what Claire had said. Had I not gotten the inside story that morning (and inadvertently from Gene in the locker room), Claire's family would have seemed normal and happy, judging by the ceremony. 

The reception, at the hotel ballroom, was another story. There was plenty of alcohol, which seemed to bring out the worst in some people. Sometime after the cake was cut, I met Aunt Gwen, who did make an unmistakable proposal. When I turned her down, she asked if I wanted her to find another, younger, hotter girl for a threesome. I hadn't expected that, despite Claire's warnings. When I said no again, she asked, "What about a younger, hotter guy?" I smiled and thanked her, but still said no. She shrugged and said, "Your loss, beefcake," and went on to find a more willing target. 

Gene was making a fool of himself, and the woman I assumed was his wife looked to be on the verge of tears most of the time. Claire's dad was there but not there, Holly sat at a table with her husband and kids, faking a smile, and Claire's mom went around with a drink in her hand, greeting people one by one. 

I braced myself when she headed my direction. "You came with Claire?" she asked. 

"Yes...I was in town on business, and she invited me to meet up here." 

She looked me up and down, and I felt compelled to add, "We're neighbors...and we play music in a group together." 

She frowned at me disdainfully and said, "If the frigid princess would stop being too good for everyone else and just spread her legs, I'm betting you would be happy to put her in her place." 

My eyes went wide. Ho-lee shit. Did Claire say a wicked tongue? That was too kind. 

"I'm serious," she said, tapping my chest with her drink hand. "I'm only saying it because I care about her. She couldn't hang on to her husband- you know she's divorced, right?- anyway, she's soon going to be out of marriageable age, and all her siblings are happily married now." I glanced at Gene's wife, who was dabbing her eyes, and at Holly's husband, who was bored and inattentive to his wife. Yeah, lady, they're all so happy, I can tell. "There's talk that you're secretly her little boy toy, but I know that Claire's not capable of that. Don't waste your time or talents on her, sonny. You could do so much better." 

It was clear she wasn't really having a conversation with me. Just a bitter monologue. 

"Wow," I said. "It's like she's not even related to you all." 

"I know, isn't it?" she said. "Poor thing- we used to call them old maids in my day, but whatever you call it today, that's where she's headed." She looked over my shoulder and was about to speak to someone behind me, but I couldn't let her get away with all that. I held up my hand to stop her from walking past me. 

"No, you misunderstand me. I mean- Claire is...human. She's really a nice person. A good friend. You all...are monsters. Whatever happened to her...it's a goddamn miracle. The only reason she and I aren't together is because I'm not half the man she deserves. So you can take your bitterness and your envy and your self-loathing regret and you can..." 

A hand on my shoulder startled me, then Claire's voice said softly, "Russ, that's enough. It's not worth it." 

Claire's mother stared fiercely at me and said, "Clearly I overestimated you. You're nothing but a love-struck little boy. Her little puppy that will follow her around and beg for treats. You deserve each other." And with that, she walked briskly away, ready to slander me to the next guest, no doubt. 

I turned to face Claire and was ready to laugh at that last remark, but Claire was starting to cry. "I'm sorry," she said, "I came over as soon as I saw she had you cornered. She can be so...hurtful." 

"Well," I said, trying to be charitable, "I'm guessing she's hurting pretty bad herself. Besides, I've learned not to let people like that hurt me with their words." 

"You'll have to teach me how to do that," she said distantly. Then pulling on my arm, she said, "Come on, you have to greet the new couple." She dragged me to where the bride and groom were standing, greeting guests and taking pictures with people. She walked up to Kaitlin and gave her a big hug and kiss, then said, "Russ, you met Kaitlin this morning, and this is her husband, Adam." the girls giggled and smiled when Claire stressed the word husband. I shook Adam's hand as his eyes widened in surprise. "I'm Russ, a friend of Claire's," I said as his mouth started to hang open. 

"Glad you could make it here," he said, recovering. 

"You too," I said with a smile, releasing his hand and letting another group push their way forward. 

Claire leaned in and teased, "You just used an inappropriate 'you too.'" 

I leaned towards her and said, "Nope. I meant exactly that." She looked at me skeptically, and I said, "I'll tell you later." 




The Conception Deception Ch. 05



Claire stayed close by me the rest of the evening, which went on another hour and a half. I think after the incident with her mom, she wanted to insulate me from further incidents. I led her to the dance floor during a slow number, and we danced a chaste, friendly dance. At one point during the song, I said, "You know, you don't need to protect me here, I'll be OK." 

"Protect you? What are you talking about?" she asked. 

"You've been by my side since your mom's little tirade. But it's OK, I can handle myself. I just...I don't let it get to me." 

Claire smiled and put her head on my chest for just a moment. Then looking up at me, she said, "I'm not staying close to protect you. I'm staying close so you can protect me." 

I pulled back a bit and looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Seeing the question in my eyes, she said, "I heard what you said to my mom. I know you were exaggerating, but still...it means a lot to me that you would stand up for me. I don't...this isn't like romantic feelings for you or anything. It's just...it's nice to be cared about...to have a friend." 

I let that statement soak in, then asked a question that had been bugging me for a while. "Claire, don't take this the wrong way, but do you have friends? I don't ever hear you talk about them." 

She frowned a little, and said, "That's a big question. If you really want to know, ask me later, when I have time to answer." The song was just winding down, and the emcee announced that it was almost time to send off the newlyweds. I made a mental note not to let that question slide. 

******* 

The festivities ended pretty typically- the happy couple made their exit as everyone blew bubbles. Kaitlin threw her flowers, which were caught by some girl I hadn't met. The limo drove away, and half the guests left. The other half went back in to get as much free alcohol as they could before the bar closed, and the DJ kept the tunes going. Claire said she needed to stay and help the maid of honor move the wedding presents to her car. She quietly told me to wait for her back in the room, but in a louder voice, so the people around us could hear, she said, "I'll see you at breakfast, OK?" 

"OK!" I said just as loudly, waving to her as I wandered towards the elevators. I got back to our room, showered, and was just slipping on my boxers when Claire entered. 

"Finally!" she said, slipping off her dress and kicking off the shoes. "This thing is as uncomfortable as it is ugly." 

"Well, they've got to find a way to make the bride look like the prettiest one up there," I joked. Claire may not have even heard me, as she was intent on jumping into the shower as quickly as possible. She came out a while later, wrapped in a thick terrycloth hotel robe. She opened up the mini bar and took out some drinks. She quickly downed a bottle of something sweet, then opened another. 

Before I could ask, she jumped right into an answer to my question from earlier. "I do have friends," she said, "but...they're at a different stage of life from me right now. All my close friends that live near me are married and have kids. All of them, Russ. They see each other a lot- they have play dates and stuff. About once a month or so, we can get together for drinks while their husbands watch the kids, but usually they just can't be a big part of my life like they used to. I don't blame them...it's normal. But it's hard being...left behind." 

When I didn't respond for a few seconds, she said, "And now you think I only want a kid because my friends all have one. Shit." She drank the second bottle and opened a third. I took it from her hand and drank it while she picked out something else. 

"No," I said. "After tonight, I think you want a kid because you've got one royally screwed up family, and having a child that you love and care for would be one small way to leave that past behind and make a new, loving family for yourself, even if it's just two of you." 

Claire stared over my shoulder at the city lights outside. The view from eighteen floors up was pretty spectacular. "I think you're right," she mumbled, starting in on her drink. "I never thought of it like that, but I really think you've hit on it." 

We sat in silence for a while, working on our respective drinks. Neither of us had been drinking at the reception, but we were making up for that now. I broke the silence by saying, "I think you'd be a great mom." 

She didn't respond at first, but after a little bit, still staring out the window, she whispered, "Thanks." Then she shook her head to clear it, smiled and said, "Oh, I almost forgot. Adam said he met you in the locker room today." 

"Yeah...so...Gene is a pervert." 

"Didn't I tell you? Yeah, he's...he's the worst. I feared for my life when he was in the same house. Wait...was he in the locker room, too?" 

"Yeah, and he was giving Adam a hard time." 

"Adam says you gave some 'sage advice.'" she said with a playful smile. 

"No, I just told him it was OK to hate Kaitlin's family. Especially her crazy oldest sister." 

"Oh, I'm crazy, am I? Do you think I'm a monster, too?" she joked. 

"No, but I'm just your little puppy, remember? How would I know anything?" 

Claire leaned back and laughed heartily at that. Then steadying herself, she pulled open her robe and lay back on her bed. "Go ahead and fuck me," she said, wriggling her arms out of the sleeves. 

I was stunned and didn't move. Well, part of me moved, but it was still covered. "Claire...last night...we did that last night. Tonight I'm supposed to..." 

"Oh, come on!" she said gently. "Firstly, last night was all about me. I needed that. But secondly, you deserve it. You stood up for me and were nice and you've been a perfect gennlemin...I mean...gentleman." The alcohol was starting to get to her. "Sooo, go ahead and put that baby maker to work, and have a great time doing it. You deserve it." She spread her legs open, then used her fingers to spread her lips, giving me a clear sight of and unhindered access to her entrance. I wasn't going to refuse that. 

Drunk sex was not my favorite, but I knew there was no question of consent, and there had been a good share of attractive ladies flirting around the room that night, so I had been a little on the edge. Besides, isn't this what happened at weddings? The guests go back to their rooms and screw, turned on by the whole idea of the honeymoon, right? And this would probably be our last time... 

I pulled off my boxers and moved towards her. Claire said, "You can be as quick as you want, or take your time...doesn't matter. Don' worry 'bout me." I climbed on the bed and got between her legs. Then she put up a hand and lifted her head to look at me. "Just rememmer. Noooo kissing." Then she dropped her hand and her head and waited for me to mount her. I paused, thought about our situation, then backed up a bit. Before Claire could notice that something was amiss, I lowered my head to her folds and gave one long lick. 

She was freshly showered and neatly trimmed, which made it an actual pleasure to use my tongue on her. Claire squealed and started to sit up the moment my tongue made contact. I used my hand on her stomach to hold her down while I pushed my tongue a little deeper in her slit. After a few slow licks, she stopped trying to sit up and just lay back. "Been a while?" I asked, then pushed past her folds again. 

"Yes," she said with a strained voice. "Five...six years?" I moved my tongue around her clit and back down to her lips. "I'd forgotten this," she whispered, moving fingers into my short black hair. I used my fingers to part and hold open her lips, letting me kiss her entrance and push my tongue inside her a bit. She gasped at that and pulled my head in a little. Flattening my tongue, I moved it very slowly up her slit until I was hovering over her clit. "Yessss..." she encouraged me. I gave it a little kiss, then pressed down on it with my flattened tongue. I was rewarded with more moans and small hip motions. 

I kept up a pattern of licking her slit, then resting on her clit. I let my attention to her little nub get more and more intense until Claire grabbed my ears and held me in place there. With a few quick swipes of my tongue, she bucked her hips off the bed, squeezing her legs around my head and shouting, "Yeah-ha-hahahaaaaah!" Then pulling my face towards her pussy, she breathed quickly a few times then moaned, "mmmmMMMMMAAAAAHHH!!" 

Satisfied that, even if she wasn't done cumming, she could at least handle being entered, I worked my head out from between her legs and climbed into place. With help from my hand, I found that sweet spot of warmth and twitching. Her quiet moans worked into something more as I pushed in. Not sensing that she needed to adjust, I didn't bother waiting but instead started thrusting. I worked an arm under her, gripping her back to use for leverage. My other hand felt her breasts and then hips. I held that position for the next five or six minutes of steady fucking. 

The sound of her wetness and our thighs smacking together filled the room, competing only with the sound of our ragged breathing. Claire was panting as she recovered from her orgasm. I was panting as I worked towards mine. I could have cum at any point, I just wanted to enjoy that moment while I could. When I felt like I didn't want to wait any more, I moved my roaming hand to her ass, making my thrusts more firm. I slowed my pace to almost half speed, focusing on the sensation of pushing into her, of feeling her tight around me, of knowing that she wanted what I was about to give her. 

I had the sudden mental image of Claire, swollen with child, glowing in pride and satisfaction. I thought of that being my child, of her choosing to bear my child, and that was enough to push me over the edge, even if it was just a fantasy. I cried out as I held deep, wanting all my seed to be as close to her womb as possible. I even thrust violently two times at the end, forcing out a last little bit. Claire cried out at the sudden impact, but then breathed slowly out, accepting the compulsion of nature on my actions. 

I held myself inside her, my arms still embracing her, not letting her move. After almost a minute, I began to soften enough that we both knew I should pull out. I was reluctant to do so, but Claire insisted. "Thank you," I whispered as I backed away from her. 

"Help me get the blanket out from under me," she asked, not wanting to get up while my seed was finding its way through her. I got her situated, and she smiled and closed her eyes when only her face was left exposed. Switching off the light, I put on my boxers and crawled into the other bed. 

We both slept soundly. In the morning we packed up and shared breakfast at the buffet, talking mostly about music. Then we checked out and headed home. Claire stayed an extra hour to have lunch with some cousins, so we didn't see each other again until the next week. And I began to try to figure out how to tell her that I couldn't continue trying to get her pregnant.



The Conception Deception Ch. 06



Chapter 6- For Celebration 

"Marco, hey, I need some grown-up advice, man. Give me a call." I left the message on his voicemail first thing Monday morning, knowing he would be working and wouldn't answer. I didn't want to have to try to explain anything over the phone, but I really needed to talk to someone. Marco had always been more like an older brother to me, and once he had gotten married, Becca had relished the role of big sister. 

During the drive back from the wedding, I had done a lot of thinking. In between listening to my new albums, I had thought about what to tell Claire. Then I had started questioning my decision and back-tracking. I was mostly afraid of how she would take the news, especially if I told her that I had been withholding critical information. 

Then I thought, well, what if we could make this something more? We'd both insisted we wouldn't and that we didn't want that, but we enjoyed being together, the sex was outstanding (when we had it), and it would mean I didn't have to be alone. But eventually, the truth would come out- once Claire failed to get pregnant, there would be tests, there would be tears, and there would be an end to it all. No, that wasn't going to happen. 

I spent the rest of Monday catching up with my assistant, checking on the status of all the work that I had missed. Then I started fleshing out the proposal I had told Claire about, sketching out some ideas to discuss with my graphic artist. The hotel had given me some good ideas, but what had most impressed me was the church grounds. I worked on something with a sanctuary/monastic feel to it. 

Marco called me that afternoon. "Is it urgent?" he asked. "Becca would rather I didn't leave tonight, but I've got a late lunch open tomorrow..." 

"Not urgent. I can do a late lunch- wanna meet me at that sandwich place near your office?" 

"Jelly's Deli? Yeah, sounds good. Is 1:30 too late?" 

"Perfect. Thanks, Marco." 

"I love ya, Russ. Take care." 

******* 

It was late June, and the apartment complex was finally cleaning the community pool. It had been open since Memorial Day, but it looked gross to me, and apparently to almost everyone else. They had gotten in cleaned over the weekend, however, and so I got home from work, threw my bag on my couch, changed into my trunks and ran out to the pool. 

It was nice and refreshing, though not nearly as refreshing as I knew it would feel after one of the days when I had been working outside all afternoon. I wasn't the only one enjoying the sun and water- our neighborhood was close enough to a university that we had more than a handful of college students living among us, even in the summer. At least a half dozen of the deck chairs were taken by young coeds sunning themselves. I tried not to look, not wanting to get myself horny with no outlet for my lust. 

After a few minutes of sinking to the bottom and trying to swim a lap without surfacing, I was resting on the steps, wiping the water from my face. One of the coeds in a modest black bikini stood up and walked my way. The water made my eyes foggy, but I could still see her shape approaching me. She walked right up next to me and squatted down. I could tell she had dark hair and sunglasses, but if I turned my head I'd get a face full of boobs, which might be awkward. 

"Hey handsome," she said in a deep, sultry voice. "If you're free tonight, why don't you come over to my place and...watch some TV." 

I turned my head, pulling it back to look at her face. Claire pulled off her sunglasses and beamed at me. I hung my head and laughed. 

"You really didn't see me over there?" she asked. 

"I'm trying not to look that direction. It can only end in frustration for me," I said, trying not to sound bitter. Claire didn't seem to know how to respond, maybe recognizing that there really was some sacrifice on my part to keep the terms of our agreement. But then a wicked smile formed on her face and she said, "Maybe after you knock me up, I'll complain to some of the girls around here about the loud sex noises coming from your apartment. I'll tell them you seem to have a way of making the ladies beg for more." 

"Claire..." I warned her, more worried about having a visible reaction in my trunks than about the silliness of what she was suggesting. 

After a moment of quiet, she said, "Well, anyway, I wanted to say thank you again for coming out to the wedding last weekend. You helped keep it from being a complete emotional disaster for me." 

"I'm just amazed that you've turned out so normal, after seeing where you're coming from. Have you ever gotten therapy or anything? Because your mom...jeez! I can't imagine living with that every day." 

Claire nodded slowly. "My sophomore year at university I got some help. And a few times since then. Which, by the way, is why I can't adopt. They see the word 'depression' in your history and it's almost immediately rejected. But anyway...just getting far away from my family made all the difference in the world." As she finished speaking, Claire lost her balance and grabbed my shoulder to steady herself. Then she pushed herself into a standing position and said, "I'm going back to my chair. This music doesn't listen to itself, you know." She put her earphones back in and returned to the lounge chair she had been on. Knowing Claire was there now made it hard not to look over every now and then. 

But soon my stomach convinced me that I had waited long enough for dinner, and I went over to get my towel. I looked Claire's direction as I dried off. Her sunglasses made it impossible for me to see if she was even awake, but just as I looked over, she lifted her head and held up seven fingers to me. I could see her eyebrows were raised, asking a question. I gave her a discreet thumbs up, remembering she had asked about watching some TV that night. Unfortunately, we had so often correlated TV with our monthly sessions that the thought of watching the show with her caused my cock to stiffen as I walked up the stairs to my apartment. I worried that, after my experience with Claire, I would forever find detective shows to be strangely arousing. 

******* 

The next afternoon, I met Marco for lunch. I was glad for the late time, because it meant the restaurant wasn't crowded; we could sit in the corner and not be overheard. Once we got our sandwiches and sat down, Marco said, "So what's up?" 

I clenched my teeth and breathed in deep. I still hadn't decided how much to tell Marco, but I started with just summarizing how things were going. We'd tried for three months now, we were also hanging out together, I had gone to a wedding with her- basically that we were becoming friends. 

Marco interrupted me and said, "You're not falling in love with her, are you? I mean, that's fine if you are, but that's not what this is about, is it?" 

"No...no, I don't think so. I thought about that. She's really great, but I don't feel that way about her. I don't have that desire to bare my soul to her and start rearranging my future around her. But just the same, it would be nice to have someone in my life...but no, that's not it." 

"Do you think she's being straight with you?" 

"What do you mean?" 

Marco shifted in his seat and finished chewing a bite of his sandwich. I realized we must be quite a sight- him in a suit, me in my landscaping clothes. "Look, I don't want to go into a big old I-told-you-so. I'm sure I'll get a chance for that later. But I was thinking, what if this is all a trick? What if the whole, 'get me pregnant' thing is just a ploy to get a man? What if she's trying to snag you? You know, get you to sleep with her and then start building the emotional bond..." 

I gave it some thought while we ate for a few minutes. Then I took a big drink of soda and said, "I really doubt it. She's had her chance to get closer...to build that bond...but she doesn't do it. She says she doesn't want to make this more than it is." 

"Maybe she's just really good at messing with your head, making you the one that pursues her, making you think it's your idea." 

"Well, there's that, but that's not the only thing." I then told Marco about how Claire didn't want to have sex. I spoke in a low voice, despite our relative privacy. Marco leaned in to listen and his eyes widened as I described her plan for how it would work. 

"You're shitting me," he finally said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "All this trouble setting it up, and she's not even willing to have sex to make it happen? And you're OK with that?" 

"Well, no. I pushed back a bit, and..." 

"You didn't force her, did you? Or intimidate her?" 

"No! Man...you know me better than that!" 

"I don't know, bro. A woman leads me on like that then says I just get a self-induced hand job with a quick dip at the end, I might get frustrated. Not that it would be OK, but I'm saying I wouldn't be surprised. You said you wanted some advice, I didn't know if maybe you got yourself into some legal problems." 

I shook my head in disbelief, surprised that he would think me capable of that. "No...I got her to agree to once a month. You know, mostly the way she wanted it, but once a month we actually...you know." 

"Wow. I mean, Russell, you have gotten yourself into something really weird. How long are you going to stick this out- until she's pregnant?" 

"That's the thing, man. I think I need to back out. It just doesn't feel right. The contract doesn't say anything about that, right?" 

"Nah, it just covers what happens after she gets pregnant. I couldn't legally say anything about the process. You're not obligated to do anything until she's knocked up, and then you're obligated to do nothing- to stay out of the picture. The actual getting knocked up part is up to you guys." 

"I guess what I'm really worried about though, is that I don't want to lose her as a friend. She's a nice girl Marco, and I'd like to keep up a friendship. That's what's so weird. It was easier when she was a virtual stranger." 

Marco didn't have much to say about that, not that I expected him too. It was too unique of a situation to make any sense. But we talked about it, and we talked about friendships and women and eventually it was time to leave. 

"I've got a 3 o'clock across town," Marco said, standing up. "Hey, are you still going to be my grill master at the Labor Day party?" Marco and Becca had a big cook-out the first weekend of every September. They invited a lot of his clients, coworkers and neighbors. I usually had the responsibility of running the grill the whole time. 

"Definitely," I said enthusiastically. "I'll make sure to bring my own sauces this year." My homemade barbecue sauces were much better than the bottled ones Marco had insisted on trying last year. And I wasn't the only one to say so. "Wait...you're still having that this year? Isn't Becca..." 

"She's due next month. Should be plenty of time. I just need to make sure I've got someone else running point in the kitchen." Then he added, "Bring Claire, if you're still friends at that point. Oh, and if your band wants to, you guys should set up on my deck and play a few songs. That would be so awesome!" 

"We're not a band. We just...jam together," I said, leading us out the door. 

"Whatever, just see if they want to play. It's only for fun, real informal, you know that." 

"I'll mention it. But don't count on anything." 

******* 

The next few weeks dragged on. The weather was hot, which made work uncomfortable. I ended most days with a jump in the pool, occasionally seeing Claire out there sunning herself. Our next jam session was a short one on Thursday night, and Mona wasn't able to make it at the last minute. We still had a fun time, though. Steve made a point to tell me, "Mona said she's really sorry she had to cancel. She was looking forward to this. She said to call her later." 

Claire playfully answered, "Oh, sure, I'll give her a call!" 

Steve looked uncomfortable and stammered, "I...uh...I think...Mona said..." 

"Ohhhh," Claire said, smiling at me, "she wants Russell to call...interesting..." 

I quickly changed the topic, mentioning the cook-out and the chance to play. Rusty seemed to like the idea, and Steve said he was always up for something like that, especially if there was free food involved. Claire seemed less enthusiastic, but it was mostly logistics. Moving a keyboard isn't fun. But at least now I had a clear reason to call Mona, I thought. 

******* 

July was drawing to a close when I saw Claire at the mailboxes one day. "Is your Saturday free?" she asked. She was smiley and touchy and I wondered a little about Marco's suggestion that she was playing me. 

I confirmed that I was free all weekend, and she said, "Good. Come over Friday for dinner and don't plan anything for Saturday." 

I realized we hadn't set our times for the month, and I had perhaps missed the chance to call it off. I had meant to bring it up when she scheduled the times a couple weeks in advance. "Oh...right. OK, I'll be there." 

******* 

I called Mona that week, letting her know about the Labor Day party. She was hesitant to commit, not knowing what work looked like. "Most people don't go to a restaurant on Labor Day, though," she said. "So even if both Steve and I are gone, Macy should still be OK with one other chef. I'll ask her. Was that all?" 

"Well, pretty much," I said lamely. "We missed you the other week. Text me some good times and we'll get together again. Oh, and I listened to that album you recommended- it was really good." 

"You bought it?" she sounded surprised. 

"I bought all the ones you guys mentioned. Yours was...the one I most resonated with. I'd like to play a few of them next time." 

"What about the other ones? The other albums?" 

"Well, Steve's was maybe too artsy for me- I felt like I had to think too much about it while I was listening to it. Claire's was basic, simple- about what I would have expected. Rusty's..." I just laughed. It had been weird. One of the tracks was just a group of guys humming while chickens clucked in the background. One song ended with what I guessed was flatulence, and the lyrics probably only made sense when the listener was under some pharmaceutical influence. 

"Say no more," Mona chuckled into the phone. "He's a character." 

"You know," I said, "The two of you sharing an apartment would probably be the premise of a great sit-com." 

"Or a murder drama," she shot back. 

"Fair enough," I said. "But anyway, just let me know about the next get-together. Your schedule seems to be the busiest, so we'll try to work around it." 

"OK. You sure that's all?" 

"I think so. Am I forgetting something?" 

"Maybe not. Just checking." 

I hung up the phone, more intrigued by Mona, more interested in her, and somewhat more frightened by her. I started to think that she might be my best way out of the arrangement I had with Claire. 

******* 

Friday rolled around, and I showered after work before heading down to Claire's. She was happy to see me, and pranced ahead of me into the apartment, her hair bouncing in a ponytail behind her. The smell of home-cooked food greeted me as soon as I stepped inside. I closed the door behind me, and Claire pulled me by the arm into the living room. 

"Pull down your pants," she said with a smile. I slipped them off, and Claire pushed me back onto a soft chair. Kneeling on the floor in front of me, she pulled my cock out through the hole in my boxers. I was on my way to hard, and when Claire took me all the way into her mouth, I quickly got the rest of the way there. She pulled up a bit, unable to take my whole length once I was fully hard. 

I could see she wasn't wearing her trap door pants, so I couldn't tell what her game was. She began using her mouth and hands to stroke me slowly. I put my hands on the sides of her head, holding gently as she bobbed up and down. It had been over a month since we last had sex and...well...probably a year since my last blow job, so I was quickly rushing to the end. Claire seemed fine with that, speeding up and sucking as she went. 

"Claire, I'm close..." I warned her, trying to give enough time for her to get up, lower her pants, mount me and take my cum where she wanted it. 

"Mmm-hmmm," she hummed, not stopping. The vibrations made me gasp, and the indication that she wasn't stopping made me confused. 

"Claire...last chance Claire!" I said with obvious urgency. 

She popped her head up, looked at me and with laughter in her eyes said, "Go ahead." Then she took half my length back in her mouth, sucking on it while she pumped me with her hands. That was all it took to launch me into orbit. 

"nnnnggggaaaAAHHH!" I shouted, gripping the armrest with my hands to keep me from pushing her head down onto me. Claire's hands wrapped around me, clenching tight, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. I released spray after spray into her mouth, pushing my hips up off the chair, trying to get deeper. Claire moved one hand under me and pressed up under my balls, near the entrance to my butthole. The pressure there made my cum feel stronger, more satisfying. I felt another strong couple of squirts release into her just before she pulled back. I watched in fascination as her lips trailed across my cock, taking every trace of my cum with them. 

Claire rocked back, sitting on her feet on the floor. She discretely swallowed my load, then picked up two champagne flutes I hadn't noticed on the end table. She handed one to me, clinked her glass against mine and said, "Cheers!" Then she swished out her mouth with a gulp of sparkling apple juice. I took a swig of my own, then panted a few seconds before asking, "Claire, what the hell was that about?" 

She smiled and reached into her back pocket. Pulling out something that looked like a plastic white thermometer, she held it in the air and said, "We're celebrating. I'm pregnant!" 

******* 

I sat there stunned for I don't know how long. I still had that stupid grin that a guy usually gets after an incredible blow job, which made me look excited by the news, but really I just hadn't responded yet. I was dumbfounded, floored, completely flabbergasted. 

"You're sure?" I said cautiously. 

"Yep!" she beamed, standing up and moving onto the couch. "I found out last week, when my period was late. That's when I told you to come over this weekend. Then I just double-checked this evening. You did it! Which, by the way, explains the sparkling apple juice- no more alcohol for mommy!" 

My post-orgasmic grin was slowly replaced by a genuine smile, then an open-mouthed expression of happy disbelief. I wanted to ask if it was definitely mine, but I knew that would be received poorly. I had a lot of questions for her, but now was not the time. I figured I could ask at least one, though. "So the...awesome...blow job I just got from you...?" 

"Russ, I am so excited and thankful right now. And I want to show you my appreciation for helping make my dream come true. So since we didn't need that seed for breeding, I figured the first thing I could do would be to give you something you haven't gotten since we started this." 

"Claire, that's...amazing. Thank you. But you didn't have to do that." 

"I didn't hear you stopping me," she teased. "But you're right, we never said anything about this in our agreement. I just want to say thank you- thank you for getting me pregnant but also for being a perfect gentleman about it. For respecting me, being nice to me, and being my friend." 

"You're very welcome. And that blow job was more than enough thanks," I said, still feeling the glow of it. 

"That's just the beginning," she smirked. "I made us dinner, which you might or might not think is a reward. I'm sure Mona could do better." 




The Conception Deception Ch. 06



"Uhhh..." 

"I'm just teasing. I'm so excited- can't you tell? And we have seven more episodes to finish this season, so I'd thought we'd watch them all between now and dinner tomorrow." 

"Which is why you want me here tomorrow, too..." I said, nodding in understanding. 

"Nooo..." she corrected me. "I wanted you here tomorrow because we're going to have as much sex as you can handle during the next 24 hours. The TV show is to give us something to do in between." 

Despite having just come in Claire's mouth. I felt my cock begin to respond to that remark. 

"You're serious?" 

"Yes. Because you deserve it. Because I want to celebrate. But also because there's a good chance this is the last time I'll be having sex for a loooong time, if ever. I wanna go out with a bang." 

I laughed at her choice of words. 

"Seriously, Russ. Gimme all you got. Stay the night, wake me up in the middle of the night just to fuck, give me your morning wood, invent new positions, whatever. Let's make it a legendary 24 hours, one you'll wish you could tell your grandkids about." 

Her words had brought me all the way back to stiffness, so I pulled off my boxers and said, "Can dinner wait a few minutes?" 

"That's why God invented microwave ovens," she said, wiggling out of her jeans. 

"No, really, just a few minutes," I warned her, turning her around and bending her over the arm of the couch. Lining myself up, I started to slowly inch my way inside her, only to be surprised to find I could slip right in. 

"You're not the only one excited about this," she said huskily. 

I grabbed her hips and stared down at her tight little ass while I pushed rapidly in and out of her channel. I needed even less time than I had thought I would. The knowledge that I had actually put a baby, a miracle baby, inside this woman; the thought that she was going to carry and raise my child; the realization that I could and would be a father...I buried myself deep and groaned, feeling the pressure of her pubic bone against the underside of my cock. Claire just let out a quiet oof! as I pushed one final time to release a load that her womb no longer needed. 

******* 

I'm not sure there are words that can describe those 24 hours. We stretched the limits of my resilience and endurance. We went through every position either of us had ever tried or wanted to try (some of them only lasting a few thrusts before we devolved into giggles at their impracticality). I don't think we invented anything new, but I developed an appreciation for Claire's flexibility- both mental and physical. After dinner Friday, we watched a few episodes, then went to bed, where we enjoyed a slow, languid screw under the covers before falling asleep. Now that conception wasn't a concern, Claire let me stay inside her after I came, both of us sighing as I softened. We fell asleep like that, spooned together, connected intimately. 

I did wake her up in the middle of the night, after a pleasantly erotic dream that involved at various times Morgan, Claire, Mona, and my sixth grade art teacher. Claire just mumbled and rolled onto her back, letting me use her body. I wasn't as quick to cum, so by the time I was finishing, Claire was waking up more fully. After my release, I went to the bathroom and she found her vibrator, working herself into a few gentle climaxes before curling up against me to sleep again. 

She woke up before me that morning, using the bathroom to freshen up before coming back to bed and taking my morning wood into her mouth. When that woke me up, she maneuvered us into a 69 that lasted long enough to get us both off. 

The rest of the day was a pattern of food, fucking, and watching TV. We took a quick pool break after lunch, and while we swam in the water, Claire came up behind me. She reached her arm around me, putting her hand down the front of my trunks, and whispered, "Go ahead and look all you want at those college girls. Get an eyeful of their young, hot bodies, and when you're ready, we can go up to the room and you can close your eyes and picture them as you release all that frustration into me..." 

As she pulled her hand away from my hardening member, I leaned my head back to her ear and said, "Claire, you're a keeper. You know that, right?" she just smiled and floated onto her back, her eyes closed. 

We did go back to the room, and I had my imagination filled with images of the girls around the pool, but I really didn't need to think about them. Claire was sexy enough to chase all other thoughts from my mind as she grinded herself on top of me. She came with a soft cry, then told me to finish quick so she could nap. 

By 5pm Saturday, we had one last episode to watch. My penis was getting sore, but I was sure I had one more round in me. I asked Claire which she wanted to do first. 

"Sex first, then end with TV, OK?" 

It took a little oral effort to get me to rise to the occasion, but once I did, I was on top of Claire, pushing her legs up to her chest and resting her ankles on my shoulders. I pushed slowly, knowing the depth of this position would make her feel fuller. Claire's eyes widened as she watched my face, then she looked down past her breasts at the point of our union. We stayed in that position, with me thrusting firmly and slowly, until Claire indicated that she was starting to get sore. I told her I needed just one more minute, and she nodded. 

In less than a minute, I was holding deep, feeling her intentionally squeezing her walls around me as my hands frantically moved around, trying to touch every part of her body that I could reach. My cock spasmed inside her, though I doubt there was anything left to spray. She had truly drained my balls that weekend. As I finished cumming, I almost regretted finishing in that position. The extra deep penetration felt amazing, but I knew I couldn't stay inside her afterwards, which was something I always enjoyed. 

I pulled out and lay next to her as she stretched her legs with a groan. "Gimme a hand," she said softly. I looked over and she was literally asking for me to use my hand. She directed it to her clit and used her hand to guide me up and down. Her hips and her hands set the pace, and her voice directed me, "A little more pressure...back off a bit...more...like that...just like thah-ah-ahhhooooohhhhhyesssssssss!" She held my hand tight against her mound as she came, and I couldn't help but lean in and put my lips on her nipple. The nipple that would someday feed my child. As amazing as the past 24 hours had been, by far the greater gift Claire was giving me was the privilege of fathering her child. 

******* 

We ordered pizza, watched the show, and I got ready to leave. Claire leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek, whispering, "Thank you." 

"Out with a bang?" I asked. 

She smiled and said, "A helluva bang..." 

******* 

And that was it. According to our contract, I was going to be out of the picture. She didn't need any money for doctor's visits or anything, I had no say in any of her choices, and my name wasn't even supposed to come up. We had finished watching our show, so now all that was between us was running into each other around the building and the occasional jam session. 

I missed it. I missed the sex, of course, but I missed the extended time with Claire. It was funny how I never "fell in love" with her, nor she with me. But I considered her a friend, and when you don't see your friend as much as you used to, you miss them. 

Becca was scheduled to have her baby around then, at the beginning of August. I had promised to spend a few days at Marco's house watching the kids while he was with Becca in the hospital. They quickly became a handful, though, and after 2 days I wasn't sure how I could keep four kids entertained at the house any longer. 

On the morning of Saturday, the third day, I called Claire. 

"Russ, what's up? Jam session?" 

"Actually, no. How would you like some real life parenting practice?" 

"What?" she asked, clearly a little confused. 

I quickly explained my situation and asked if she would be willing to meet us for lunch somewhere. She laughed and suggested Jackal's, Mona and Steve's restaurant, which apparently had good lunch specials. I thanked her profusely and planned to meet her there. It took me, no joke, two hours to get the kids ready. By the time we were loading up in the minivan, Becca was my new hero. 

Claire was waiting for us in the parking lot, and I introduced her to the kids as "Miss Claire, my friend." Marco's little girl, who was 4, grabbed Claire's hand and squealed, skipping with her into the restaurant. We got a big table and I tried to figure out how to order food for a big family. Our waiter was a young college-aged guy who was good with the kids. Just as our food arrived and the kids were actually calming down, I heard a familiar shout from across the restaurant. 

"Russ!!" Running at us, dodging through chairs and tables, came an exuberant Conner. He climbed under the table and onto my lap. Claire seemed to recognize him, and her eyes widened. I looked around the restaurant and saw Morgan slowly working her way over to us. The first thing I noticed was how pregnant she was. I did some mental math and realized that she'd left me more than 10 months earlier, so...nope, not mine. But she had moved on pretty fast, apparently. 

"Hey, Russ," she said with thinly-veiled discomfort. "We were just leaving." 

"No we weren't," protested Conner. "We just got here!" 

"Aunt Morgan?" said Marco's oldest boy. "You got big- like my mom! But she's at the hospital now. Is Aunt Morgan having your baby, Uncle Russ?" 

Oh shit, the awkwardness. Morgan hung her head and put her hands over her face, I stammered and handed the kid a few french fries to keep him quiet, and Claire just laughed. 

Then Morgan lifted her head and said sweetly, "No, Dante, this is Conner's daddy's baby." 

I tried not to look at Claire when that statement got dropped. Dante just looked confused, and I said, "Don't worry about it, kid. It doesn't make any sense to me, either." Conner snuggled into my chest and put his head on my shoulder. "I miss you, buddy," I whispered to him. 

Then Morgan looked at me and explained, "I got back together with Carson after...after we broke up." 

"After you left me," I clarified. 

"And we're having a baby!" she said, trying to sound happy. 

"So...how's Carson doing? Same as always?" By that I meant, Does he still hit you? Is he still sleeping around? Does he still make Conner want to hide in the closet? 

Morgan wiped her eyes and said quickly, "Yeah, it's great. Conner's happy to be home and he's thrilled to have a little brother on the way. We've been wanting something like that for a looong time." 

At that point Claire half-stood, but she had a kid on her lap, so she couldn't get far. She reached out her hand and said, "Hi, we haven't actually met. I'm Claire, a friend of Russ's. I lived...live...in the apartment downstairs from Russ. I used to see you and Conner at the pool a lot." 

Morgan shook Claire's hand and said, "Oh, one of the...uh...women downstairs." 

"Yeah!" replied Claire with fake sweetness as she sat down. "And, funny thing, I'm not a lesbian! And I'm pregnant to boot." 

Morgan looked at me and laughed. "Well, at least we know it's not Russell's." 

Claire glanced at me for an explanation. Morgan picked up on the silence and said with a hint of vindictiveness, "Oh, I'm sorry. That was out of place. I'll let you two talk about that later." She gave me a sly grin. 

Claire recovered well, and responded, "Like I said, I'm just a friend. And for today, I'm a co-babysitter, right kids?" 

"YEAH!" shouted Marco's brood, spraying some food onto the table. 

"Come on, Conner, it's time to go," Morgan said softly, holding out her hand. 

Conner snuggled closer and whined, "Nooooo! I wanna stay with Russ! He doesn't yell." 

I wrapped my arms around him and tried not to cry. I had felt sad for Conner when Morgan left, and knowing now that she had gone back to Carson...I wished there was something I could do to protect him. But I knew I had no rights over him, and Morgan was waiting. I opened my arms and told him he should go to his mommy. He slowly crawled back under the table to Morgan, who led him by the hand out of the restaurant without saying goodbye. That seemed to be how she did exits. 

"That was weird," said Marco's second oldest. 

"Yeah," said Dante. "Why is Aunt Morgan so sad?" 

I didn't know how to answer and was still choked up over Conner. Claire spoke up to answer. "Sometimes people make bad choices," she said sadly. "And sometimes when we make bad choices, bad things happen and we feel sad." 

"Ohh," the two older boys said. The younger kids seemed oblivious to it all. 

Once the kids were distracted by their meals, Claire spoke softly in my direction, "Sooo, I didn't quite understand something she said." 

"About the baby?" 

"Yeah...about that." 

"I'll explain later. This probably isn't the best audience for that conversation." 

Just then our waiter came by, refilling drinks and tossing fresh packs of crayons to the kids, which were much needed at that point. Before he walked off, I asked, "Hey, is Mona working today?" 

"Or Steve...?" Claire added. 

"Uhh, I can go check. Are you a friend of Mona's?" 

"and Steve," said Claire. 

Looking at me, he said, "Are you like a, 'hey, friend, how's it going?' kind of friend, or more like, 'heeeeyyy, friend, let's go get some drinks and see what happens' kind of friend?" 

Claire and I stared at him in disbelief. What was he talking about? Seeing our expressions, he paled a bit and said, "I'll go get her." 

Just then, Mona walked up behind him and smacked the back of his head. The waiter winced, grabbing his head. 

"They're a none-of-your-damn-business kind of friends," she said. 

"Mona, that's abuse," the waiter said. 

"Really?" said Mona in disbelief. "You...of all people, you want to talk about abuse? Do you want me to go get the list?" 

"I'm just trying to meet your friends," he mumbled, walking away. 

"I'm sorry," Mona said, watching him go into the kitchen. "Tristan is still learning his manners. But I've made it my personal mission to teach him well. Anyway, I just stepped out for a break and saw Claire's car in the parking lot," she said. (There aren't many orange VW bugs in our town, so Claire's stands out.) "Glad you all could make it!" 

"Thanks! It's been great. The kids love it." 

"Yeah, speaking of that..." she looked at me sternly, "I was pretty sure you said that you and Claire weren't a thing. But four kids definitely qualifies as a thing." Claire spontaneously burst out into laughter. 

Dante spoke up and asked me, "Uncle Russ, what's so funny?" 

I leaned over to him and joked in a loud whisper, "This pretty lady thinks that I'm your daddy and that Miss Claire is your mommy." 

Dante said, "Ooooohhh. But that's not very funny." Then he looked up at a very amused Mona and said, "Uncle Russ is our uncle. And Miss Claire is...I don't know. We just met her." 

"She's my back-up," I explained. 

"Well," said Mona with a broad smile, "If Uncle Russ and Miss Claire say it's OK, I can make a super special dessert for everyone who finishes their lunch." 

"YAY!!" shouted four happy voices as Mona laughed. 

"See you guys later," Mona said, walking back to the kitchen. 

"You told her we weren't a thing?" asked Claire, stifling a laugh. 

"She assumed we were a couple...I had to clarify." 

She shook her head and said very softly, "Disowned by the father of my child. What is to become of me?" 

"Just feed the midget," I said, indicating the girl on her lap, who smiled back at me with ketchup covering her chin. 

******* 

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Claire helped me get the kids back in the van, and I started up a DVD for them to watch. Before heading to her own car, she said, "You gonna make it?" 

"Marco and Becca come back tomorrow morning. I think I'll be OK." 

"And that thing we need to talk about? Got a minute?" 

Damn, she hadn't forgotten. I sighed and said, "Morgan...was under the impression that I couldn't have kids." 

Claire's eyes opened wide in surprise. "And who gave her that impression?" 

I couldn't do it. I couldn't crush the trust I had built up with her, and so, ironically, I lied. Told a half-truth really. 

"She secretly went off birth control a year into our relationship. But when she never conceived, she kind of assumed..." 

"And I picked up that Conner is not your son?" 

"Sadly, no. His dad...Carson...is an abusive womanizer. I hate the thought of them being back in that house." 

"Funny you never mentioned that he wasn't yours when I talked about him like he was," she said with a hint of suspicion. 

"Yeah, you kind of had my head spinning during those first conversations. I didn't quite know which way was up. And for two years, he was mine, just not biologically." 

"And since it made you look more likely to be fertile...that kind of worked in your favor, didn't it?" 

"I guess it did. But..." I gestured towards her belly and shrugged. 

"Everything seems to be working fine!" she said happily, much to my relief. 

"I've gotta get these kids home before the show ends..." I said, opening the door. "Thanks so much for helping." 

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for the world! I got to meet Morgan, I found out from Mona that we're not 'a thing,' I learned that Mona asked if we were a thing, and I got to see her face when you called her pretty...quite a lunch!" 

"She heard that, huh?" 

"Honey, her smile went up three notches when you said that." 

I sighed happily and gathered my thoughts for a second, then realized I had four kids in the van and didn't have the luxury of reflection time. "Have fun enjoying a peaceful Saturday afternoon," I said, "And don't get distracted thinking about me trying just to survive the next 18 hours..." 

"OK. I think I'll go to the pool. Or take a nap. Or watch a movie..." she teased. 

"Your time is coming, Claire. Your time is coming," I tried to say in a menacing tone as I closed the door. 

"I can't wait," she said sincerely, waving good-bye. 

******* 

The next weekend, there was rain in the forecast, so we planned a jam session in the morning. Steve couldn't make it, but the four of us had a good time. Rusty left for lunch, and Claire said she needed to lie down for a while. 

"Are you OK?" Mona asked, concerned. 

"I'm perfect," Claire said dreamily. "I just need a rest. You two can keep going if you want, it won't bother me," she said, heading back to her room. 

I nodded towards the door, and Mona quietly stood. We moved our stuff up to my apartment to continue playing. Mona walked in and started looking around. I felt like I was under scrutiny. 

"You keep a clean place..." she said. 

"I prefer it that way," I said, plugging in my amp. Besides, I rent, so I have to be careful." 

"Rent? You don't want to buy a place?" 

"I do, but not yet. I figured..." 

"Oh wait, you're doing that whole, 'My life doesn't really start until I have a family' thing, aren't you." 

My wide-eyed expression must have answered for me. 

"Man, get over it. You're not half a person. Be who you are, do what you want, and don't wait around for someone to fill in the gaps. I'm so sick of single people living like they're in a holding pattern." 

I was looking intently at her, taking in what she was saying but also trying not to look like a shamed puppy. Mona suddenly relaxed. "Sorry. I get worked up over things sometimes. Let me just say that if you want to buy a place and settle down, you should do it. Don't wait." 




The Conception Deception Ch. 06



"Fair enough," I said. "That makes a lot of sense. But if you don't mind, I'm not in the mood to consider real estate this afternoon." With that, I powered up my amp and plugged in my bass, and Mona chuckled while she pulled her guitar back out. 

We arranged a couple of chairs and ran through some of the songs on the album she had recommended. After her little speech, we didn't talk much; we just enjoyed sharing what we had in common. After another hour, our fingers needed a break. Mona put her guitar away and said, "Just as well, I need to leave soon anyway." 

"Work?" I asked. 

"No, I...I'm going out with Tristan- your waiter from last week," she watched my eyes for a reaction. I tried to show only mild disappointment, but who knows what she saw. 

"Russ," she said, "I like you. Don't read too much into this Tristan thing. He's nothing serious, just...well, think of it like a charity case." 

"A what?" 

"I know, it sounds weird. After it's over, I'll explain it to you. He's a special project of mine, one I started because I was a little bored. It wouldn't have even happened if we'd started jamming a few months earlier than we did..." 

"Mona, to be honest, you're about as coherent as Rusty right now." 

"Stoned Rusty or sober Rusty?" 

I looked up to consider that question, then said, "Sober Rusty." 

"OK, I can live with that. Just hang with me, handsome. But if you and Claire end up becoming a thing, I wouldn't blame you." 

I bit my tongue to hold back all the possible responses to that line. Instead, I went with, "Yeah, but I think Steve might." 

Mona just smiled to herself and said, "Yeah...I saw that too. Anyway, I'll see you around." 

Just before she got out the door, I decided to risk a little more, and said, "Hey, just so you know. Claire and I...we have a really unique friendship...but it's just that. Really." 

"If you say so. But please, all I ask is that you shoot straight. I don't play games- I won't play games. OK?" 

"I promise." 

******* 

Life went on. For the next few weeks, everything was normal. Marco and Becca were adjusting to life with five kids. The Rainy Day Band got together about once a week, and outside of jamming, Claire and I just saw each other in passing. She did send me a text one day saying, "Just got back from the doctor's- everything is looking good!" I guess she was about eight weeks past conception at that point, though technically it was her tenth week of pregnancy. 

Mona and I didn't go on any dates or anything, though she did say, "Soon." Once a week, though, she would come to my apartment and we would play songs together. I loved watching her face when she would play a particularly involved riff- her eyes would almost close but her eyebrows would go up. Her lips would purse together and move just slightly, almost singing the sounds into existence. I really started to believe there could be something there- something serious. I was even willing to trust her about the mysterious Tristan situation. 

It was during one of those times- a Thursday evening- when our music was interrupted by a knock on my door. We both stopped, not sure if we'd heard anything or not. Then it came again, an urgent pounding. Worried we had upset the neighbors, I flipped off the amp and went to answer the door. Mona started putting her guitar away, saying she should be going anyway. 

I wasn't too surprised to see Claire at the door. What surprised me was that she was holding her purse, clutching her arms around herself, and in tears. She was squeezing her legs together and her hair and clothes were a mess. Mona walked up behind me as Claire said, "I'm bleeding...and it hurts. You have to take me to the hospital." 

Mona pushed past me and guided Claire into the apartment- the first time Claire had been inside. I was already putting on my shoes and grabbing my wallet and keys. 

"Who did this to you?" Mona asked sharply. Claire seemed confused, and I rolled my eyes. Gently leading them both out the door, I said to Mona, "Claire's pregnant." 

That remark earned me the craziest look I had ever seen from Mona. I shot her the sternest look I could muster, and she backed down. Mona helped Claire down the steps while I pulled my car up. We had a wordless ride to the hospital. Mona sat in the back with Claire, who leaned up against her and wept. When we got there, Claire stepped out of the car and looked at me. She said, "I'm so scared." I pulled her close and hugged her for a moment. "Me too," I said. Not exactly comforting, but for once I was honest. 

We walked into the outpatient area, and Mona checked Claire in. I told Mona she didn't need to stay and that she was welcome to take my car home. Marco could pick us up later, I thought. Mona rolled her eyes and said, "Don't be an ass. I'm staying." 

It took a while before we could see anyone- at least an hour. As we waited, Claire leaned against me and closed her eyes. Mona silently got my attention, pointed to Claire's belly, then pointed to me and mouthed, "Yours?" I nodded. She made a face that said I needed to explain. I mouthed, "Later." She was content with that, thank God. 

When Claire was called back, the nurse looked at Mona and me and said cautiously, "Is...the father...here?" 

I held my lips shut and looked at Claire. She was a little groggy, but managed to rub her eyes and say, "No father. Just me," then followed the nurse back. 

"We'll wait for you," I told her. 

While in the waiting room, I explained in general terms what was going on. That I had agreed, as a stranger, to help her get pregnant, but that a friendship developed. I told her that we had an arrangement that would keep me out of the kid's life- legally and financially, at least. Mona looked at me skeptically, but not angrily, and I said, "Hey, you've got your 'charity case' and I've got mine, right?" 

She laughed a little at that, then said, "I guess I'm in no position to judge." Then she leaned into me and let me slip my arm around her. I guess we both needed a little human contact that night. I felt sad that Claire was alone. 

******* 

It was late- almost midnight- when we got home. Claire hadn't said anything since we left the hospital, and Mona made sure she was OK to walk before leaving us in the parking lot. 

"I'm not an invalid," Claire said, attempting some humor. 

"Honey, when a woman asks if you're OK getting home, she means, 'Do you want me to leave you alone with this guy?'" 

"Hey..." I protested. 

"No offense, big boy, but I don't know how she's feeling right now." 

"I'm fine, Mona. Russ can take care of me." 

I gave Mona a playfully smug look, getting an eye roll before she walked away. Claire and I walked up to her place, and she pulled my arm to bring me into her apartment. I sat at a bar stool in her kitchen while she pulled out some snacks. 

"It's a miscarriage," she said flatly, handing me a drink. She put some pills in her mouth and washed them down with water. 

"I'm so sorry, Claire." 

"The nurse told me they're a lot more common than you would think. It's just that people don't talk about them." 

We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our drinks. Suddenly, the dam burst and Claire started crying again. 

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry," she said in between sobs. 

I didn't know what my place was, what I should do. I put a hand on her back and waited. After a few minutes, Claire straightened up and wiped her eyes. She sniffed as I pulled my hand back. Trying to regain her composure, she said, "So...I know the deal was you were supposed to get me pregnant. And you did that. But I didn't anticipate that I might lose the baby. So I don't want you to feel any obligation, and I don't want to mess things up with Mona for you...but would you at least think about trying again, once this is over?" 

I was quiet for a while. I didn't want to make a bad situation worse for her, but I couldn't give her false hope. In retrospect, I should have waited for a better time, but I felt like I had already waited too long. And I was overestimating her emotional state at the time. 

"Maybe you should think about finding someone else." 

She sniffed and said, "I understand." 

"No...you don't. I mean, you deserve someone better. I...I haven't been totally honest. Morgan...didn't just assume things about me. She had me tested...and the doctor said I was unlikely to get her pregnant. That's why she left." 

Claire just stared ahead, her eyes still wet. After a minute, she said, "You...lied?" 

I was going to say that I had just withheld that information, but that seemed like a nuance. "Yeah. I lied. I'm sorry. At the time, I was just lying to some weird neighbor that was offering me sex. But after a couple months, after getting to know you, I was actually planning to call it off- I couldn't stand treating you that way, giving you false hope, taking advantage of you. I felt like scum. I went and talked to Marco to make sure I wasn't breaking the contract if I just ended it. But then that week you were pregnant, and that was like a dream come true for me, too, so..." 

Still expressionless, still staring ahead, she said, "And Marco...did he know all this when he made the contract?" 

"No. No, I've never told anyone. Just you. I'm...sooo sorry, Claire. I didn't expect to become friends, I didn't expect to care. I was going to say no from the start, but then you said it was like a one night stand, and I thought I could play that game for a month or two and then you'd give up or find a boyfriend. It just...it got out of hand..." 

"I'd like to be alone now, please," she said, still not moving her eyes from whatever point on the wall she was staring at. 

I would have been a fool not to honor that request. As I opened the door, I said softly, "Please don't hate me. I really do care about you." 

"Please just go," she whispered. 

I did.



The Conception Deception Ch. 07



Chapter 7- For Comfort 

The next few days were hard. Mona was working all weekend, Marco was neck deep in diapers, and Claire was a total recluse. I texted her on Saturday morning, How are you doing? I'm worried about you. I didn't hear back from her, but I did see her from my window checking her mail that day, so I knew she was OK in some respects. 

Sunday morning, I got a reply. I'm ready to talk. Meet at the bench? Time? I shot back immediately, Now is good for me. A few minutes later I got, OK. 

I had just finished breakfast and the morning was hot, so I was still in just my boxers. I slipped on a pair of shorts and a light t-shirt, then walked bare-footed out to the lake. Claire was on the bench, waiting. She had on an over-sized t-shirt and loose shorts. I sat down and faced the playground, just as she was. After a minute of quiet, I asked, "How are you feeling?" 

"That's a big question," she said softly. 

"I mean...physically. Are you still in pain?" 

"Sometimes. But that's not the worst part. I really don't want to talk about that right now, though." 

"OK." 

"Russ...the first time you came to my place and we...did it, that was one of the hardest things I've ever done." 

"What? You were so chipper, I thought..." 

"Please," she said firmly. "Just...listen." I closed my mouth. "I acted like I was OK with it, but I was freaking out. You were still, for all practical purposes, a stranger. I almost changed my mind. I was holding my phone in my hand, about to call it off when you knocked on the door. So I just went with it. I acted like it was no big deal." She looked over at me with a sad face. "Confidence is my shield, Russ. I can fake it pretty well, but inside, I'm usually terrified." 

She looked away and paused to take a deep breath, pushing some hair from her face. "While you were next to me, stroking yourself, I had the movie on, but I wasn't watching it. I was lying there terrified. When you got ready to finish in me, I really almost jumped up and moved away...I think I would have if I hadn't been scared of how you would react." 

I creased my brow and opened my mouth to object, but Claire held up a hand, "I know. You wouldn't have hurt me or anything, but how could I have known that back then? Do you know what I was thinking while you were jerking off? I was thinking that I should have tracked down Morgan to find out why she left. What if you were abusive, or some kind of psycho? I realized I had made a foolish mistake. In retrospect, I lucked out, you're mostly a nice guy. But I was scared. After you came in me, I hurried you out of the room. I was flippant about it all, but I really just didn't want you to see me cry." 

I turned and looked at her sympathetically. "Oh, yes, I cried. As soon as you were out of the apartment, I curled up on the bed and cried. Then I got up to make sure you had actually left and weren't waiting in the apartment to rape me. I don't remember anything about that movie I had on- I sat there while it played, but my mind was all over the place. Fear, anxiety, regret, terror, self-loathing, hating you, feeling guilt, despair... But I told myself it would all be worth it. Once I held that little baby in my arms..." 

She got too choked up to continue. I waited silently. 

"Anyway," she went on, taking a deep breath, "it got better. But then on the third night, when you said you wanted to have sex, I almost had a little panic attack right there. So I gave you a test. If you freaked out when I said no the next night, then it was over, even if you didn't want it to be. And I decided that I would never do this again, I wouldn't find another guy. I would give up. But you were OK with it, and you were patient, and willing to accommodate me. And you did have a good point or two, so...I was OK with a little sex. And what helped was that by the second month, I was liking having you around. I hadn't realized how much I missed having friends in my life, close by. I started to be glad I had met you, even without the baby factor." 

I wanted to interrupt and tell her that I felt the same way and that I felt horrible betraying her. But she cut me off again, "I'm almost done...hang on." I nodded. 

"My theory on you was that you were pretty much a passive guy- you let me call the shots. Maybe that was your thing- you wanted an 'older' woman to tell you what to do. But then at the wedding, you spoke up and helped Adam when you could have just walked away. And you gave my mom the kind of tongue lashing I'd been wanting to give her for years, and you defended me. I...I think that's when I realized that you weren't just being passive with me, you were being considerate, and kind. You knew what real strength is- it's making yourself weak for someone else. You really cared. So no, I don't hate you. And I know you really care about me, just like I care about you. But dammit Russ, do you have any idea how much you hurt me?" 

"No," I whispered, "I probably don't." 

"Good answer," she said, fighting tears again. "Because you've hurt me in a way no one ever has. I've had lovers break my heart before; I watched my ex-husband shrug...shrug, Russ, when I told him I wanted a divorce. But I've never had a friend hurt me like this. You deceived me and gave me false hope. You played on my weakness and my dreams to get something out of me. You used me. I was just a fucking body to you. And the fact that I somehow got pregnant in the end doesn't make it right. I did call Marco yesterday. He couldn't talk long, but I tricked him into confirming that you had discussed ending our arrangement. And he really didn't understand why you were doing it. That was enough for me to believe you, and it's the only reason I'm talking to you now." 

She paused, which I took as an opportunity to speak. "And now?" 

"And now," she said, "I really should just walk away. I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you. But the problem is, I'm at my lowest point right now, and I don't know where else to turn. I'm hurting...bad. I just cry all day. I need my friend to be there for me. I know I need to look past what you've done and still accept you. I need someone to comfort me, and you're the one I keep thinking of who can do that. I need us both to forget about our whole deal and I need for you to just be my friend." 

I took a deep breath, the kind that sounds shaky because you're either crying or about to cry, and said, "I can't do that, Claire. I can't forget it, because you're not the only one that needs comforting." Then I let myself cry for the first time since she had knocked on my door Thursday night. "I know I wasn't supposed to be involved in the child's life, but it was still my child. And after thinking I would never know that joy, getting you pregnant...Claire, that was my greatest dream come true." 

Rather than answer, Claire just leaned over and put her head on my chest. I put an arm around her and we cried together for a few minutes, making quite a sight for joggers going around the lake and parents watching kids on the playground. Once she was able to speak again, Claire said, "Russ, I don't want you doing this because you expect us to try again. I don't think I can do that- emotionally. It was a bad idea to begin with." 

"I don't think it was a totally bad idea, but I understand. But Claire, I just miss my friend right now, OK?" 

"OK," she said softly. Then after a few minutes, she lifted her head and said with a hint of a smile, "So, any interest in starting season two?" 

I squeezed her a little and said, "Yeah, definitely. But how about at my place, since you don't need to be in bed." 

"That's good. And besides, I'm hoping you have some drinks at your place. I purged my kitchen of alcohol, and now I want it back." 

"Sounds like a plan. Dinnertime?" 

"Lunch," she said, sitting up straight. "I've got nothing to do but mope, otherwise." 

"Lunch it is...I'll make the order," I said, pulling her hand as I stood up. I was sure we would need at least another hard conversation or two, but it felt like we'd gotten over the big wall between us. 

******* 

Getting back to work on Monday was good for both of us, and having a jam session/practice Monday night was even better. In one week, we'd be playing some songs at Marco's cook-out. After Monday's session, we picked out our four best songs and planned to just have fun with those at the cook-out. It wasn't a performance, just some background music to lighten the mood. I had also talked Mona into getting there early and helping Becca with the kitchen work. Mona, surprisingly, never mentioned to Becca that she was a professional chef. She just took orders from the tired mom and executed everything efficiently. I did notice, however, that some of the side dishes were noticeably tastier than in years past. Becca was happy to take the credit for it. 

The cookout itself was a blast. The Rainy Day Band was playing as people arrived, and we were well-received, even though we were obviously not professionals. Once I had to leave to start the grill, Steve played an impromptu duet with Rusty that made me close my eyes and imagine rolling seas and lonely sailors. 

There were about fifty people there, pretty typical for the annual event. I had convinced Claire to come, telling her it might be a good chance to make some more friends. Because of that, I was happy to see her locked in conversation with one young woman for almost an hour. I hadn't seen her there in years past. She was probably my age or younger and was pretty, with brown hair past her shoulders and a curvy, trim body. Their conversation seemed serious at times, and they both spent time crying. Later, I saw the two of them head over to an older woman, whom I had talked to at previous cook-outs and knew to be one of Marco's clients- the director of a women's shelter. I felt protective of Claire that evening, but it seemed she was in good hands. Besides, I was mostly stationed at the grill with Rusty and Steve keeping me company and making sure I was well-supplied with drinks. 

Later in the evening, once my jobs on the stage and at the grill were done, I was catching up with Mona. Suddenly, the girl who had been talking with Claire earlier came up to us and said, "Mona?" Mona turned and yelled, "Gina!" The two hugged and laughed and then Mona introduced me to Gina, who used to waitress at Jackal's. She had apparently moved on from there a year ago to work at the women's shelter. "Did you see Steve's here, too?" 

"Yeah, I said hi to him already. Sorry I missed your show- I was working late at the shelter." When Mona introduced us, she said, "You're Claire's friend?" I nodded hesitantly. 

"She's a sweetheart. Please take care of her, OK?" 

"Will do," I said sincerely, relieved that I hadn't gotten a bad reputation already. By the time the party was winding down, Claire found me again, glowing, and said she was so glad she came. I asked if she had a good time talking to Gina and the older lady and she said, "I'll just say that I don't feel quite so crazy anymore." 

That was good to hear. Mona and I stayed to clean up, but we first packed Claire's keyboard into my truck. We got back to my place pretty late, and Mona helped me carry the keyboard upstairs. I walked her back to her car, and just before she left, Mona gave me a soft, tender kiss. I looked at her in surprise, and she said, "You do what you gotta do with Claire, but I'm almost done with Tristan, OK?" 

I still had no idea what kind of dance we were doing, but I just tried not to miss any steps. 

******* 

Claire was up and down for a few weeks, and so was I. I'd feel OK with everything one day, and then something random would make me just want to punch a wall or go cry in the corner...or both. It was good to at least be able to talk to Claire about it. Since her conversation with Dottie, the older lady from the cook-out, Claire had some really good perspective on things. She was still struggling to deal with the hard emotions, but she no longer felt hopeless. 

I wished I had someone else to process things with, though. Marco had his hands full, so I didn't want to bug him about things. And though Rusty and Steve were becoming guys I could talk to, they also knew that Claire had been pregnant and had miscarried. Claire didn't want it widely known that the baby had been mine, so I couldn't process things with them. (I later learned that Rusty, who was sharper than I realized, had already figured it out, but assumed the pregnancy was an accident and never said anything out of respect.) Music turned out to be very therapeutic, especially because it also involved time with Mona. The batting cage, too, saw a fair share of my time that month, and with almost every swing I remembered my Dad, I remembered Conner, and I thought of the baby. 

******* 

Claire and I were cleaning up after a jam session one afternoon in early October, more than a month after the miscarriage. It was a later Saturday afternoon, and I was a bit moody. Once we were alone, I asked Claire what Gina and Dottie had said that had helped her so much. 

Claire sighed and thought for a minute. She looked over at her kitchen, then back at me, biting her lip. She was putting way too much thought into answering me, I thought. 

"Wanna have dinner and talk about it?" she asked. 

"Sure," I said, not having any other plans for the evening. 

Claire pulled out some pots and pans and asked me to help get food ready. We talked as we cooked, and we talked as we ate, and I realized that she had gotten more than just a few words of advice at the cook-out. She had met several times with her new friends and had gotten a whole new perspective. Most significantly, she had come to see that she was defining herself by her ability to have a child, and so when she couldn't do that, she was devastated. 

"I kind of went through a mourning process when I decided to be done with relationships. I had to stop thinking of myself as a woman who was just waiting to get married and instead accept myself as a fully complete single woman. I think I'm doing that same thing now with regard to being a mom." 

"Wow," was the best I could muster. She had kind of nailed some of my issues with that remark. I thought back to Mona telling me to stop living in a holding pattern just because I was single. We talked about how our culture, especially our entertainment media, really messes with our heads in convincing us that romantic relationships "complete" us and having children "fulfills" us. Things that are good become idols, and Claire and I had both experienced the fall-out of dying idols. 

By the time we were cleaning up the dinner dishes, my head was dizzy with all the new ideas and possibilities. I felt like I needed to take some time to reassess. I still wanted to move forward with Mona, but I first wanted a better idea of what that meant to me. I was sitting at the table, drinking a coffee while I thought about those things, forgetting where I was. Claire cleared her throat, bringing me back to the present. She was crying. 

"Wha...?" 

"I didn't say it was an easy process," she said, smiling through her tears. 

"Don't get me started," I mumbled, blinking quickly. 

"Can you do something for me, Russ?" she asked, picking up a box of tissues and handing it to me. 

"Sure," I said, glad for a distraction. "What do you need? Season Three?" We had burned through the second season of our show in only a couple weeks, and the third season had just been released. We were both quite addicted. 

"No...well, since you mentioned it, hell yes. But that's not what I'm asking for right now." 

"What is it then?" 

She sighed and looked me in the eyes. "First of all, I want to tell you that I forgive you. From my heart, I really do forgive you for lying to me and...and...using me. It still hurts to think about it, but I forgive you, which means I'm not going to hold it against you." 

"Thank you, Claire. Thank you," I said, glad for the box of tissues on the table between us. 

"And I know I wasn't totally innocent in all this, and that I've done some things to hurt you, too. Maybe I've even done some things I shouldn't have," she said softly. "So I want to ask you to forgive me, too." 

"Of course...I mean, I don't know what there is to forgive, but...I don't hold anything against you, Claire," I said quickly, honestly unable to think of what she might be guilty of. 

"Thanks," she whispered. Then clearing her throat, she straightened her back in her seat and said, "One more thing, Russ. As a friend, and I want to stress that- as a friend...and now, before things get too far with you and Mona...will you make love to me?" 

I looked into her eyes for a few seconds, trying to read her. A lot of thoughts came to mind. 

"You mean..." 

"Make love, not just have sex." 

"Because..." 

"Because I need some comfort. I want to feel someone's touch. I want a warm body next to mine." 

"And this isn't about...trying to...you know." I couldn't bring myself to put it into words. 

"No. I mean, I would be thrilled to get pregnant again, of course. And at my follow-up visit, the doctor said that the best time to try again would be soon after the miscarriage. It's the right time and everything, but this isn't about that. I doubt we'd be that lucky twice, especially if what you told me is true about...you know." I closed my eyes and nodded in understanding. Her pregnancy had been a crazy one in a million chance, I thought. It wouldn't happen again, especially not so easily. 

Claire continued, "I think it's more about just needing human touch right now. I've been wanting that for weeks, ever since we talked by the lake. And today, I've just been feeling so low, so broken and hopeless." 

It had been two months since our celebratory session, and I hadn't been with anyone since then. My hormones were screaming yes, and a part of my heart agreed. Mona had told me to do what I had to do. But I was worried I'd be taking advantage of Claire when she was feeling vulnerable. 

"What are you thinking?" she asked me nervously. 

"As much as I want to say yes, I'm just worried that I'll end up hurting you more than I already have- that you'll regret this later." 

Claire looked at me pleadingly, then frustrated. With a sigh, she closed her eyes for a moment, then stood up. Walking around the table, she sat on my lap, leaned in, and put her lips on mine. I didn't want to resist, and when she picked up on that, her tongue worked gently past my lips and into my mouth. I put a hand on the back of her head and held her in place as I started to return the kiss. A minute later, Claire pulled her head back. 

"Regret that," she said, the tear tracks still visible on her cheeks. 

Speechless, I watched her walk back to her bedroom, pulling off her shirt. She shouted back to me, "I need a shower. There's room for two, whenever you're ready." 

******* 

Claire had been right. Just the touch of her lips made my heart surge. If I knew the names of the chemicals, I could tell you what that touch started releasing in my body, chemicals that gave me a high and that fought against the sadness. I guess I knew it was inevitable. I stood up and walked towards the sound of running water. I was naked by the time I reached the bathroom, and, pulling aside the shower curtain, I stepped into the tub. Claire stood under the stream of water, her dark hair matted down and shining. She had her hands over her face, and as I stepped in she brushed her hands back, clearing hair and water from her face. 

She stepped towards me and wrapped her arms around my body. I was hard, but not urgently so. There was time to embrace, then time to kiss. There was time to use soap as an excuse to run our hands all over each other, touching every parcel of skin. Claire shivered when I rubbed her breasts, and I moaned as she soaped up my cock. 




The Conception Deception Ch. 07



When we were finished washing, Claire leaned in to me, her arms pulled up between us as I held her tight. The water was spraying on my back, so she was only getting a little bit of it. Without looking up at me she said, "Those first few days, I would stay in the shower until I ran out of hot water. Clots of blood were coming out of me, and I felt so dirty and wrong. I felt like a failure. Like I was being punished and like I was dying from the inside out. I just wanted to wash and wash and wash away the pain." 

I squeezed her and wished I had been there for her then. After a few minutes of just listening to and feeling the cadence of the water hitting our bodies, Claire reached behind me and turned it off. She had a towel hanging nearby, which she wrapped around herself. Leaving the bathroom, she came back a moment later with a towel for me. We dried off, slowly making our way to the bed. 

Once there, we dropped our towels on the floor. I pulled Claire close and kissed her again. She moaned into my mouth as our tongues fought for dominance. By then, my arousal was urgent. I moved my hand from her arm down to her mound. I slipped my middle finger just inside her, noticing that she seemed as ready as I was. Claire squeaked and smiled as I did so, backing up to sit on the bed. Spreading her legs, she grabbed my wrist to get my attention. When I looked at her, she said softly, "Lick me...please." 

I knelt down in front of her and pushed my face in between her thighs. When my forehead bumped her stomach, she lay down, giving me better access to her neatly trimmed mound. I ran my tongue quickly up and down her slit, listening to her gasps as I did so. I returned my finger to her hole, moving gently around. Claire's hands on my head pulled me up. Up just a little. Up a little more, helping me to settle on her clit. I danced around her button, not, at first, giving her the satisfaction of direct contact. 

"Russsss," she moaned and hissed, pushing her hips up to my face. "Stop teasing," she whined. 

I smiled, then put my lips around her clit. Claire's gasp at the contact became a small cry when I sucked gently at her clit. Holding the exposed nub in my lips, I tapped and swiped at it with the tip of my tongue. I suddenly felt her swat the hand I had resting on her thigh. She took hold of it and pulled it to her breast. She moved it around, causing my palm to rub roughly against her nipple. Claire breathed out lout and long, then sucked in a big breath of air. She held the air in her lungs for a second while her whole body stopped moving. 

Claire's legs started trembling around my head, slightly at first and then shaking vigorously. MmmmmmMMMMAAAAAAhhhhgh!! she cried out, arching her back and grabbing fistfuls of my hair. I was glad I kept my hair short, else I would have lost a few clumps, I was sure. One of her legs swung up, then her heel landed with a thud on my back. "sorrryyyyy..." she groaned, her eyes still clenched shut. I responded with another firm lick on her clit, which I knew was probably extra sensitive. That got another tight squeeze of her thighs and a grunt that sounded almost painful. 

Claire pulled my head off her by my hair and tried to push me away. I backed up, extracting myself from her writhing legs. I sat back on the chair I used to sit in for jerking off, and I watched her slowly descend from her peak. The whimpers and twitches were so erotic- to watch a woman so overcome with sexual pleasure that she can't control her body is one of the highest forms of pleasure. 

Soon, she was done, lying on her side and breathing deep. A slow smile spread across her face and she laughed one time. "Ready to fuck me?" she asked with an open-mouthed smile, still gazing off to the side. 

"I thought you wanted to make love," I breathed out, licking my lips to experience again her flavor. 

"Nuance," she said, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Then rolling onto her back, she groaned and sat up. She kept her momentum going, getting off the bed and moving over to me. Her hands on my shoulders, she put her feet up on the chair and lowered herself onto my throbbing stiffness. 

"Ohhhhhhh God!" I exclaimed as she sank down. Claire grinned, then giggled, then kissed me. She began a slow rhythm of rising and falling. She took me so deep on her downstrokes, I wondered if I had just found my new favorite position. Her arms around my neck kept her balanced as she held a steady tempo. I felt my gut start to tighten and knew I had to slow things down. When Claire had again pushed down until her lips gripped my base, I grabbed her hips and held her in place. 

"Hold on a minute," I said. 

"Feels that good?" 

"Mmm." I slowed my breathing and leaned my forehead against hers. After a minute, I felt her walls squeeze me a few times. I smiled and flexed my cock in response. Claire giggled again, then pushed my nose with hers, getting me in place for another kiss. We made out gently, tenderly. Other than the fact that I was buried to the hilt inside her, our kisses were much like the first tentative kisses between young lovers. 

Claire ended our kiss and whispered, "My legs are cramping." 

I stood up, carrying her with me, and gently laid her down on the bed. We rolled over a few times until we were in the middle of the bed with me suspended over her. Claire's hair spread out around her and she stretched her whole body as if waking from a nap. This had the effect of tightening her grip on my cock, which already felt snug inside her. I couldn't resist a few slow thrusts while she stretched, which only made her exhale suddenly and collapse onto the bed. 

"Hey...you interrupted my stretch," she said lazily. 

"So do it again," I smiled. "It felt good on my end, too." 

She waved a hand at me dismissively. "Anything I do would feel good to you right now." 

I pulled back and slowly pushed back in. "Yeah, you're probably right about that." 

Another pull back, another slow thrust. Claire moaned softly. I bent down to take her nipple between my lips, tapping it with my tongue. Another slow thrust, fighting the urge to push myself over the edge as quickly as possible. 

"Oh, God...I'm tingling," she whispered. 

"That means it's working," I joked. I don't think she got it. Instead she wiggled her hips a bit, adjusting her angle. I continued thrusting slowly, speeding up only a little bit. Claire started whining and whimpering. 

"I can just barely get the right angle, but I can't hold it. I need something under me," she said with labored breath. I reached across the bed and grabbed the pillow that had propped up her butt after all our efforts to breed. Sliding it under her, we put it to a new use. Claire moved back and forth a little, then bent her knees slightly and finally sighed in contentment. 

"Yessssss..." she whispered. "Just keep doing that. Nice and slow..." As I pushed in, she would push up just slightly, giving a small, sexy cry each time. I started to grind my crotch against her each time I reached my deepest point. 

"mmm-HMMMM!" she moaned in approval. I sped up some more, aching to get to my own release. Claire started whispering in time with my thrusts, "yes...yess...yesss...yeah...yes..." She was in a world of her own. My thrusts became more urgent- still pressing against the spot that she wanted me to, but pushing harder and faster against it. 

"Uh-huh...yeah...yeah...YEAH...YES...AHHH...AHHH!!" She was more vocal than I'd heard before. She started clenching her pussy around me in time with my thrusts, giving me the most unreal feeling. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold off much longer. I was watching her face, and I saw the moment her build-up reached its highest point. Her teeth clenched shut and her eyes squeezed even tighter closed. At the same time, her feet shot up off the bed and into the air. Her hands on my ass pulled me in and squeezed tight while her tunnel stopped its rhythm and started twitching around me. 

Claire let go of my ass and just wrapped her arms around my back, hugging me as she came. She sounded like she was crying, and perhaps she was, but there was so much pleasure in it, that I knew she wasn't sad. While she was still shaking, still holding me, I started thrusting again. Slower, gentle, easing back into the rhythm I craved and needed. I knew this was it. This really was the last time I would be with Claire. I hoped it wasn't the last time she would be with a man who cared about her- that would be a shame for her and a loss for mankind. But it was truly our last time. 

With that thought, I pulled up from her and looked in her eyes, which were fluttering open as she stabilized. I wanted to say something- to tell her how beautiful she was, to tell her what a special woman she was, to tell her my hopes for her future. Instead, I did the one thing I wouldn't be able to do again. I held her cheek with one hand and kissed her deeply. Kissed her as I thrust inside her. Kissed her as her head moved in reaction to my body's insistent entry into her. 

Then I put my head next to hers, wrapped both arms around her back to hold her as close as I could, and I came. With four hard thrusts that lingered deep inside her, I emptied one last life-giving load into her. It felt desperate and hopeful. It felt fulfilling and incomplete. It felt so confusing, but in the end, it was comforting. When I finished cumming, I kissed Claire one final time, letting our kiss go on and on, holding myself over her with my elbows, feeling my hardness slowly dissolve, and with it, all my frustration and tension and grief, so that for just one moment, all was right in my world and hers. 

When I had fully slipped out of her, I lay on my side next to her. Claire and I looked at each other, and at the same time said, "Thank you." We then laughed at the coincidence and touched foreheads. I wondered if I should ask spend the night. I wondered if it would be a bad idea to stay. But before I decided, Claire touched my cheek and said, "That's exactly how we should end this." 

"With a bang?" I asked. 

"With a bang." 

******* 

We talked. We cried, some of the tears happy ones. We got dressed. I went home. Life went on. A week or two later, after a really fun jam session, Mona asked me to walk her to her car. When we got there, she told me that her 'special project' was over, just in case I wanted to know. I told her mine was over, too, and that being the case, I would love to take her out. She smiled, gave me a kiss, and told me to call later. 

I had hoped Steve and Claire would become a thing, but his sights seemed directed elsewhere that fall, and Claire was not really interested in him anyway (or in anyone, for that matter). She took seriously her commitment to be done with relationships, and as that became more clear with each passing year, I was glad she had gone out with a bang. But it wasn't like before our contract, because now she now had friendships to fill her life, which made a huge difference. In fact, Rusty, Claire, Mona and I would get together and jam for years to come. Steve moved away, and a few others came and went as members of our Rainy Day Band, but the four of us grew close. I even made sure that the house I bought that winter had a big, finished basement that was perfect for a group of amateur musicians. 

Mona moved in a few months after I bought the house. She was, after all, engaged to me. We offered Claire the apartment over the garage- a nice suite right above where she did all her pottery. She refused, but she was over so often that it became practically her room, anyway. Hers and Daniel's that is. Daniel's toys take up a whole room by themselves. He's a pretty spoiled kid, and between his mom, his dad, and his Aunt Mona, he gets no lack of attention. But Mona and I are working on giving him a little half-brother or sister to compete with, and if Mona doesn't get pregnant, we know it won't be for lack of effort! We don't want to ask the doctor what he thinks of our chances- it's more fun to just keep trying and just be thankful for whatever blessings come our way. 

The End