84 comments/ 108010 views/ 37 favorites For the Sake of His Honor By: pseudonym2005 Author's Note: This story is an original work of fiction. Future stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand. Certain characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors. Feedback is desired and greatly appreciated. Email comments to the CONTACT tab in my profile. Thank you for reading. Copyright 2008 by Jack and Josephine Cutter. This story stars: Elizabeth Ross, Harrison Ross, Madison Mayfield, and Jacob Grant. This story contains: male-female erotic coupling, fellatio, cunnilingus, anal, adultery, pregnancy, loving wives, hot-bodied girlfriends, and much in the way of character and plot, plus a great deal of sex. This story begins post-prologue on Tuesday, September 6th. * * * * * Harrison Ross was happy. The clear warm waters of the Caribbean sparkled as the sun beat down upon them. The sky above was a beautiful blue with nary a cloud in sight. A gentle breeze rolled off the ocean, just enough to cool, not nearly enough to chill, and licked at the straw-thatched umbrella planted firmly in the sand, offering its shade. And stretched out across a towel next to him, a skimpy string bikini covering as little as was humanly possible while still not technically considered indecent, her skin glistening with the residual wetness of their swim minutes earlier, her luscious body the focal point of many horny men and envious women nearby, was his wife of five wonderful, sensuous, sex-filled days. Elizabeth was a goddess: honey-blonde hair, dazzling emerald eyes, fine features, a beautiful face, and a body surely touched by the angels themselves with round breasts and an incredible, inspiration-inducing backside. There are three types of women, as the old saying goes: smart women, sexy women and sane women. An individual female might fall into one or even two of the categories, if a man is lucky enough, but never is a woman all three. Elizabeth proved the exception to the rule: she was smart, brilliant even, an incredibly successful young attorney at a powerful Los Angeles law firm despite being only twenty-six years old; she was sexual, very horny and very much a fan of excellent and inventive sex, and gorgeous; and she was sane, one of the most grounded and honest and open girls Harrison had ever met, not to mention extremely low-maintenance. And she was his, completely and exclusively, and he had the ring to prove it. Their lives together were going to be very happy, with bundles of money and oodles of kids, and a big house with a white picket fence and a dog and an awesome pool and spa in the back yard. They talked about these things often and both were ready to get started with life. It was their fifth day on their honeymoon and their fourth day at the resort, and honestly speaking they had not done much on their trip thus far that did not involve the bed in their suite. They had hardly left the room, truth be told, barely coming up for air to breathe and food to eat, much less to spend time lounging around on the beach. But on day five they decided they would venture out a little bit more, get their money's worth, which is how they found themselves down by the edge of the water, soaking up the sun after a hearty little swim. Elizabeth was on her stomach, head turned to the side away from him, the long sleek line of her back sliding into the lovely bubbles of her bottom before splitting into a pair of long and shapely legs. She was athletic, a former collegiate soccer at Texas, and managed to keep her body in tip-top shape despite working long hours at the office. Harrison sighed: life was good. "Ok, honey?" his wife asked as she lifted and turned her head to face him. He could not see her eyes beneath the thick Gucci shades she wore, but he could hear the momentary concern in the sweet voice of his bride. "Perfect," he replied cheerfully. She giggled. "You're not sore, are you?" He chuckled. "Not at all, babe," he told her. "I can go for days. Why, are you?" "You'll have to fuck me much harder than you have been to affect my body," she said with a hint of challenge in her voice. "Are you sure you want that?" he asked ominously. She shrugged. "You wouldn't," she said dismissively. "You're too soft." Harrison reached over and smacked her hard on the ass. A crimson hand print appeared instantly and Elizabeth shrieked. "Jerk!" she yelled playfully. "Just a taste, sweetness," he said with a shrug of his own. Elizabeth rose to a sitting position, her magnificent breasts on prominent and exceptional display and covered only by miniscule triangles of cloth, and instantly the target of the eyes of all men within range. She plucked off her shades, simply so that he could see the sudden fire burning in her gorgeous green eyes. "Prove it," she whispered fiercely. They both remained motionless for a long moment that crackled with tension, each of them contemplating the mind of the other, before Harrison sprang to his feet and tried to grab hold of his wife. Elizabeth was too quick for him, however, and slithered out of his grasp. She laughed and chided, "Have to catch me first!" And she scampered off in the direction of their villa, breasts jiggling, ass bouncing, the eyes of six men and four women following, and Harrison went after her instantly. Their villa was over the water, one of the most expensive and luxurious in the whole resort, with a full working kitchen, two bedrooms, a posh living room and a wrap-around balcony outside. The balcony was the best part: the villa was isolated already, but one could sit on the ocean-side of the balcony, gazing out at the vast horizon, and not see or be seen by anyone else, totally shielded from view. It was there where Harrison finally caught up with his wife. She was leaning against the railing, the beautiful blue waters behind her, her lovely body on wondrous display, chest heaving, skin glistening, sunglasses discarded, green eyes smoldering. Harrison's board shorts hit the floor. "Are you ready for what I've got to give you?" he asked, waggling his semi-hard cock with his hand. She swiveled on her heels and stuck her ass in the air. "Show me what you've got, little man," she chided, loving how much he reacted to such statements. And Harrison closed the gap between them then and pushed his five-inch cock inside her willing nether region, hard and rough, and hard and rough were the perfect words to describe just what he was doing to her: he was fucking her hard, rippling the flesh of her ass, and rough, spanking her cheeks with utter disregard. Elizabeth shrieked and growled at him, and whipped her head around to glance back at him over her shoulder, eyes like daggers. "Fuck me harder, you pussy! Fuck me harder! Spank me harder!" The railing of the balcony creaked as Harrison thrust brutally into his wife, and he had a momentary vision of it giving way and the two of them toppling over the side, still connected by their genitalia, into the cool blue waters beneath, but his vision did not materialize. Instead, the sounds of their fucking filled his ears, a sloppy squishing coupled with her little whimpers and the smack of his palm upon her ass, and mixed with the gentle lapping of the waves against the wood of the foundation posts. And despite the fact they both were very well-fucked over the past several days, climax came quickly for them both, rising like the tides until it swept over their bodies. Elizabeth was the first to fall victim to pleasure, screaming at the top of her lungs, clearly not caring if anyone heard her. Her limbs trembled and her back arched, and the muscles of her pussy constricted around his cock. Which sent Harrison into oblivion. He pulled out of her quickly and pumped his shaft once, just barely before he erupted. Cum hurtled from his cock, rope after sticky white rope splashing across the flesh of her ass, dribbling into her crack and over the compressed plot of her anus, trickling lewdly down along the lips of her vagina before dripping to the floor. Utterly spent, they collapsed onto the side-by-side lounge chairs on the deck, breathing heavily, reveling in post-orgasmic bliss. It was several long minutes of silence before either of them spoke. "Hard enough?" he asked with a grin. "I've had harder," Elizabeth said dismissively. "Slut," Harrison laughed. His wife grinned. "Too late," she said. "You've already married me." Silence again, cut only by the lapping of the waves. "I love you," Harrison said seriously, turning to look at her. The smile on her face could have warmed an entire Alaskan village. "I love you, too, sweetie," she whispered back. "I never want to go back to the real world," he said with a sigh. "I want to sit on this dock and make love to you forever." "There's no room for children in that life story," she said softly. Harrison looked at her. The two of them were both eager to have children, eager to start a family, and after two years of dating and nine months of wedding planning, neither of them wanted to waste any time. But the fire he saw in her eyes in that moment, the depth of her desire to be a mother, was one of the most powerful things he had ever seen in his wife. "Make love to me," he whispered, his eyes on hers. "Again?" she asked with a giggle. "Make love to me, softly this time, and at the end I'll finish inside you." His words were pointed and she understood their meaning instantly. She lowered her eyes, almost blushing. "Ok," she answered softly. And the process that would hopefully end with a beautiful bundle of joy began. Part One: Not Everything Goes As Planned His strokes were long and deep and rhythmic. Elizabeth lay on her back, legs tilted back and high in the air, a pillow under her rump to prop it up in the perfect conception position per multiple books on the subject. She was naked from the waist down, but still had her shirt on. Harrison hovered over her, arms on either side, his handsome face furrowed with concentration. There was little lust in his eyes, but lots of focus and determination as he pushed his penis into the depths of her pussy again and again, in and out, in and out, using the full five inches to go as deep as possible. It felt very good for Elizabeth, being penetrated in such a way, but her pleasure was not her ultimate goal at present. She was not seeking orgasm; at least, not yet. The timing was not right. The bawdy slapping of his hips against the cheeks of her bottom and the steady succession of grunts from his mouth were the only sounds in the room. Elizabeth herself was making little noise, beyond the occasional word of encouragement. "Fuck me, baby," she cooed. "Fill me up." It had been ten long months of no success. The honeymoon had started it; after multiple talks on several different Caribbean beaches, they decided together that they wanted children right away, and only twice in all the time since had Harrison spurted anywhere other than inside her. They were determined, but frustration was seeping in. They even went to see a fertility specialist and a team of baby doctors, all to jump start the process which, until this point, had been a bunch of sex yielding little in the way of results . . . and recently even the sex had worn thin, as far as Elizabeth was concerned, becoming more clinical, impersonal, and routine than anything else. "Close," Harrison told her, and she could see the signs of impending orgasm written on his face. She reached down and under and massaged his testicles. "Give it to me, baby," she purred as she fondled his balls. He began to tremble and moments later, she felt the gushing begin deep within her. His sticky fluid splashed across her interior walls, filling her just as she requested. Harrison collapsed next to her, rolling onto his back on the mattress of their marital bed, breathing heavily, but Elizabeth paid him little attention: now that his syrup was inside her, there were a list of things for her to do. First, she wiggled her hips around with her rump still raised in the air. This was to get the sperm deeper. Second, the longest part, she used her fingers to bring herself to orgasm, stimulating her clitoris as only she knew how. This was to get the blood flowing in her nether regions and activate the sperm now residing there further. Lastly, she raised her legs and set them against the wall, and held them there for several minutes to let gravity and nature take their courses together. By the time she was finished, Harrison had already showered and half-dressed for work. He was an executive with his father's company; his father was an immensely wealthy and successful businessman in the field of electronics. "I can feel it, honey," Harrison said cheerfully as he buttoned his shirt. Her husband was a good man and she was very thankful to have him, despite their recent difficulties regarding conception. "This month is the month. I know it." Elizabeth smiled softly. "I hope so," she said, and truly did she mean it. * * * The phone rang just after she took the test, which meant there were still three or four minutes before she got the results. She hustled from the bathroom, tugging her jeans up as she went, and answered on the fourth ring. "Lizzie?" a hesitant voice asked from the other end of the line. "Is that you?" It was a voice Elizabeth knew very well, but had not had the pleasure of speaking to in some time, and at once she felt the long years sluice away . . . . . . to reveal the image of a doe-eyed college freshmen, dressed in the plaid and pig-tails she had been accustomed to in high school, lately bloomed and socially naïve, far from home and family and fearful of what such a large and largely foreign university might bring . . . . . . and the gorgeous sophomore sorority girl, in vogue and indefatigable, fashionable and fabulous, who took the young freshman under her wing and taught her the ropes, schooled her on the ways and mores of the school, disclosed the many secrets of the opposite sex, and turned an inexperienced and introverted girl into a stylish, smart, sassy and popular young woman . . . . . . and then Elizabeth was taken to another place, a place of downy pillows and scented candles and silken sheets, a place rarely visited and never discussed, not even with her husband, the most shocking of her secrets, where memories of the taste and texture of soft lips and round curves and feminine flesh and places most sacred were long buried . . . "Alexis?" Elizabeth asked hopefully. Alexis Lodge was perhaps Elizabeth's best friend in the whole world, but it had been a long time since the two of them had spoken and she had not seen Alexis since the wedding ten months ago. "Lizzie!" the woman squealed. "Oh my god, Lizzie, how are you?" Elizabeth sighed. "I'm ok," she said simply. "Wow, that was emphatic," the other woman noted dryly. Alexis had always been a sassy girl. "No, no, I'm good. It's just . . . we're having a little trouble getting pregnant. It's frustrating." There was sympathy in the voice of the other woman. "I'm sorry, honey. I know how difficult that can be. It took us eight months our first time out. You see anybody about it?" "We've seen a specialist," she replied. "He took some tests, gave us some tips. I'm going back to see him next week." "Good!" The other woman giggled. "And you're having lots of sex, I take it." Elizabeth was embarrassed by the answer, but she and Alexis had never kept any secrets from each other and that precedent would not stop now. "It's been better," she admitted with another sigh. "I wonder if that's part of the problem." The giggles stopped and the response was sober. "Tell me more," Alexis said in a very mothering kind of way. "There's no more passion," Elizabeth blurted, far more forcefully than she intended. "It's become so routine, so detached, almost like a job. He comes home from work, I get on my knees or my back, he fucks me, there's no foreplay, I never come unless I do it myself with my fingers . . . it's so impersonal." Alexis was silent for a long time. "Is Harrison taking any trips in the near future?" she asked finally. "Business trips or bachelor parties? Fishing trips? Anything?" "Actually," Elizabeth said thoughtfully, "he does have a conference in Phoenix he has to go to in a couple of weeks." "Perfect. Let him go and while he's gone, buy some sexy clothes and get a Brazilian wax, and when he gets back, surprise him and fuck his brains out. Fuck him like he's never been fucked before. Forget about babies and all that, just remember what it was like to fuck for pleasure. Rock his world and help him remember just what kind of a whore he has for a wife." Elizabeth laughed. "You always have answers," she said. Alexis giggled again. "Especially when it comes to men and sex!" For not the first time, Elizabeth was grateful having someone like Alexis in her life. She kicked herself for not calling her friend sooner. "Enough about me," she said. "How are you doing?" Alexis sighed, but the sound was wholly different than those from Elizabeth. "Life is good, honey," the woman replied. "Dave is working hard and making money, the kids are getting easier, and the sex is still great. Life is really good." "I figured it would be," Elizabeth said. "You've always been perfect." "Don't worry, Lizzie, you'll find your way. It hasn't always been like it is right now. Life has ups and downs and changes all the time, but you'll find your little slice of happiness." "I hope so," Elizabeth sighed. "I know so," her friend stated emphatically. "You know," Elizabeth said with another chuckle, "coming from you, I actually do believe it." "You should! Hey, not to change the subject, but I have a small favor to ask." "Anything. Ask away." "My brother and his girlfriend are moving to Los Angeles," her friend told her, "and I was hoping maybe you could keep an eye on him, look out for him a little, you know?" "Jacob is moving here? How old is he now?" "He's almost twenty-four." "Holy crap! Why's he moving out here?" "He has some grand designs on becoming an actor. His girlfriend, too. They're moving west to make it big in Hollywood!" It was easy to detect a note of sarcasm in the voice of Alexis. She obviously did not think the move was a good idea. "And you want me to keep an eye on him?" "He knows no one out there, Lizzie. He knows you and he knows his agent, and his agent I have no faith in whatsoever. If you could just show him around, show him the ropes a little, make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble, I would so greatly appreciate it." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Alexis," she said exasperatedly, "you know you don't even have to ask me, right? Of course, I'll do it! I'd be more than happy to help. When does he get here?" "Next Tuesday," Alexis replied, "September thirteenth. They kept their plans quiet and just told the family last weekend. Everything is happening too fast, if you ask me, but they certainly aren't asking me, so whatever." "Maybe I can meet him for lunch on Wednesday," Elizabeth suggested, "if they're not still busy getting settled." "Would you? Oh, Lizzie, thank you, thank you, thank you! It means so much to me. I know Jacob is excited to see you again, too. He mentioned it last weekend." "Excited to see me?" Elizabeth asked incredulously. "Does he even remember me? I haven't seen him in like four years." Alexis giggled. "How could anyone forget you, sweetie? You're magnificent." Elizabeth laughed. "Whatever, you little flirt. Just have him call me when he gets in." "It was so nice talking to you, honey," Alexis said then, her voice full of emotion. "Please, let's not wait so long again next time." For the Sake of His Honor "Agreed. Take care, sweetie." "You, too, honey." And Elizabeth hung up the phone and moved back into the bathroom, eager for the test results, and emerged from that same room moments later, suddenly greatly wearied and clutching a small white stick that very clearly stated its results: negative. * * * "Mrs. Ross," the specialist said, "I'm afraid I have some difficult news." The office of Dr. Franklin Ames was small and white, and the walls were covered by more than two dozen plaques and placards. He was one of the foremost fertility specialists in the country (if not the world) and came very highly recommended. Elizabeth grew very still and could feel her heart pounding beneath her breast. "Tell me," she said finally, steeling herself and strengthening her resolve. "One of the tests we ran on your husband yielded abnormal results," the doctor said in carefully measured words, slowly and clearly, "and in such a case there can be only one conclusion. I'm afraid, Mrs. Ross, that your husband is sterile." "Sterile," she repeated, the word like ash in her mouth. The doctor nodded. "I'm afraid so," he said again. "Which means what exactly?" Elizabeth asked, knowing already the answer. "He cannot have children." Elizabeth could feel her ears burning and her face flush. "And me?" she asked in a small voice. "What about me?" "You are fine, Mrs. Ross," the man said quickly, "perfectly healthy and very fertile, in fact." "Is it treatable? My husband's condition, I mean." The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid there is no known cure. The research is still several years off, at least. I'm very sorry." And so Elizabeth left the office of her doctor, one question rolling endlessly through her mind: how exactly to phrase the words that would crush the dreams of the man she loved, a man who wanted children more than anything else. But when she arrived home, she did so without any answers. * * * Harrison Ross was feeling pretty good about himself. The work day had been a particularly successful one, Monday night football was on television once he got back to his condominium and his wife would be waiting there for him, too, hopefully with some good news about a baby. He desperately wanted to have children and believed he would make an excellent father, providing for his offspring but also grounding them with good values and morals, building their character, steering their goals and dreams and decisions, and definitely not making some of the same mistakes his parents had made. He unlocked the door and entered the condo, and found his wife sitting quietly on the sofa. He instantly knew something was wrong and he had a pretty good idea what it was; it seemed they would likely need to keep trying. "Baby?" he asked as he took a seat next to her. Her eyes were puffy and it was clear she had been crying, but despite the tracks of her tears and the slightly haggard look his wife was still one breathtaking woman. "I saw the doctor today," she said quietly. "I know," Harrison said soothingly. "What did he say?" There was great struggle on her face. She was wrestling with something, he could see, and her eyes began to mist over as the weight of it took its toll. He put his arm around her shoulder and waited patiently. "I'm not pregnant," she said finally. Harrison smiled, trying his best to put as much comfort as he could in the expression. "That's alright, baby," he said. "We'll keep trying. We've got tonight and the rest of our lives. Babies will come, I know it." She turned to him then, her eyes filled with so much sadness it wrenched his heart to see it, and started to speak, but stopped herself and lowered her head instead, and started to cry. Her shoulders trembled with each gentle sob. "I can't do it," she moaned. Harrison pulled her all the way into his arms and she clutched him tightly. "Yes, you can, baby," he whispered. "We can do this. We can do this together. It's only a matter of time." While he was quite unhappy to see her upset, there was a small place inside Harrison that was excited to know she was as eager as he to have children, and that something as minor as a one-month setback (albeit on the heels of ten months of failure) could bring about such an emotional reaction. He meant what he said, however; it was only a matter of time. And then she raised her head and their eyes met again, and for a long moment he looked into those bright green pools, swimming and nearly drowning there, and he watched as they went from troubled and clearly conflicted to calm and at peace, much like the sun might emerge from the clouds to bring everything into focus. Whatever her issues, she had resolved them. "Make love to me," she whispered softly, her voice so vulnerable it caused an ache in his heart than matched beat for beat the sudden blazing heat in his loins. And so Harrison helped her to her feet and removed every stitch of her clothes, item by item, inch by inch, until the whole of her glorious body was revealed, and he lay her down on the long and gentle fibers of their living room rug and wasted little time savoring the taste of her body from lips to knees, and every space between. And when she was thoroughly aroused, her nipples shriveled and hard upon her rounded breasts, the flatness of her stomach trembling with need, her legs wavering and the pretty pink lips of her pussy quivering, Harrison took his place between those legs and leveled his cock right at the entrance to that pussy, and slowly pushed himself inside. She was ungodly tight and oven-hot, and he could feel her muscles milking his shaft, and the view looking down at her, breasts cupped by and spilling out through the cracks in her delicate fingers, lovely blonde hair like a nest around her head and those gorgeous eyes evergreen, and ever watchful. Oh, yes, Harrison thought, life was pretty good. Part Two: Lunch and Lost Time Jacob Grant could not remember a time when he felt as nervous as he was at present. His heart was pounding, his ears were burning and his palms had that sticky sort of feeling. He rarely got nervous in any way anymore, having long ago conquered the bouts of shyness and low self-confidence issues plaguing his high school years, but his present emotional state represented a serious dose of regression. It was easy to understand why. Every person in the world can look back on their youth and name the one individual who impacted their growth more than any other. For some, that person is a teacher. For others, a parent or sibling. For most men, that person is a female. For most men, that female is gorgeous. For Jacob, that female was Elizabeth Beamer. He was in high school when he first saw her, the hot friend of his older sister, the classic college sorority girl, gorgeous and utterly unattainable. Elizabeth and his sister, Alexis, students at the University of Texas at Austin a few short miles from the Grant household, had dropped by to frolic around the pool, which is probably why his first sight of her created such a lasting impression: tiny black bikinis covering hardly any flesh have a tendency to do that. She was glorious: flowing blonde hair, sultry green eyes and a willowy figure that defied logic in so many ways. Her skin was golden brown and glistening, and the picture of perfection. She was only a freshman in college then, which meant Jacob was privy to four years of her glory. He was two years younger, but seemed worlds apart from the luscious girl from Southern California. When it came time for college himself, he spent two years at a local community college, and one of the main reasons for his choice was to remain in close proximity to Elizabeth. When she graduated and moved back to Los Angeles, it was one of the darkest days of his life. That had been four years ago, however, and Jacob had done much to move on. While his thoughts still sidled over images of Elizabeth on occasion, he was no longer truly obsessed with her. At twenty-four, he was very much grown up. At least, he thought he was, but now here he was feeling like some virginal high schooler who had no idea what to do or how to act around girls. He would have to pull himself together, he told himself, or Elizabeth would think he was a moron. He pulled up to the restaurant, a ritzy little café called the Apple Dish, and tossed his keys to the valet. He was an aspiring actor, yes, but not without means; much of his savings had made the trip with him, and he planned to enjoy himself. And so he went inside and searched the crowd for her, and saw her sitting alone at one of the tables, and one memory above all else flashed through his mind: a stolen glance at glistening flesh, an unsuspecting Elizabeth naked and glorious and fresh from the shower, toweling herself off in the guest bathroom. Jacob would have to walk very carefully across the room, lest anyone notice the sudden bulge in his jeans. When last he saw her, Elizabeth had been a soon-to-be college graduate, fresh-faced and eager, and beautiful, and four years had not dimmed her beauty one bit. In fact, the time had only increased it. Elizabeth Beamer was everything he remembered, and more. She was distinctly feminine, her blonde hair tasteful and sophisticated, layered and colored and past her shoulders. Her face was gorgeous, her skin flawless, her make-up pristinely applied and perfectly understated. She wore a light beige sundress, cut square in front with straps over the shoulders, which off-set the deeper gold of her tan and displayed abundant, yet somehow classy-looking cleavage. She was, in a word, incredible. And then she saw him and smiled, brilliant emerald eyes sparkling, pearly white teeth shining, and the splendor and power of her expression could have solved energy issues the world over. And so Jacob did the only thing he could: he took a deep breath and walked to her on wavering legs, and he could feel his heart pounding and his face burning as he did so. The woman of his dreams was before him again. * * * Elizabeth had not really known what to expect. The last time she saw Jacob Grant was four years earlier: she was graduating from college, he was just about to start another year of junior college, somewhat gangly but kind of cute, very shy, and an all-around nice guy. He had been unable to go her wedding (he was invited along with the rest of the Grant household, whom she thought of as her second family) and the few times she had visited Texas, he had been away at school. Thus, she did not have any clue what he would look like, knowing well how much four years (particularly those of the early twenties) could change a person. Still, she was blown away. She recognized the handsome man walking her way, could see in the shape of his face and the set of his eyes the unmistakable signs of Grant ancestry, but in those subtle clues the resemblance to the boy she had known four years ago ended: gone was the moppy black hair, gone were the glasses; gone were the scrawny, gangly limbs and maladroit posture, and stilted movements; gone was the mismatched and oversized wardrobe, the acne and awkwardness. In their place was six-foot-three inches, two hundred ten pounds of muscular confidence with fashionable clothes, styled jet black hair and sharp, searing gray eyes. She smiled winningly at him when she saw him, but behind her composed outward façade lay another thought altogether: simply stated, Jacob Grant was a hunk. Elizabeth rose to her feet and embraced him when he arrived, saying, "Oh my goodness, Jacob! Look at you! You're hot!" She was delighted to see him blush and lower his eyes. It had always amused her, the crush she had known Jacob had on her. She had teased him a little and tantalized and teased him more than he probably deserved, and his cute little liking of her had stoked her ego quite a bit at important times, and for that she would always be thankful for even if he never knew it. She wondered fleetingly if he still harbored any feelings for her now, four years later. "Hello, Elizabeth," he said in a deep and inherently manly voice. Even his voice was different, and much improved; no more squeaks, it seemed. "You're just as beautiful as I remember." It was her turn to blush. "Flattery, sir, will get you everywhere," she told him as they took their seats. "Seriously, though, Jacob, it's so good to see you. It's been a long time." "Yes," he agreed. "Four years." "Amazing," she breathed. "A lot has happened since then." He nodded. "You got married," he said, and she wondered at the softness of his words. Deflecting, she nodded. "You became an actor!" He grinned. "I did," he admitted, "and now here I am, arrived in Hollywood." "Quite a long way from Austin," she said with a smile. "True," he agreed, "but the silver lining is now I'm much closer to you." And while Elizabeth waxed cheerful from the subtly sweet flirtatious of words, another voice broke up their conversation, a lovely voice that was musical and markedly southern. "Hi there," the voice said, and Elizabeth turned to find a lovely young blonde woman standing over them, a bright smile on her face. She spoke again after a moment and her soft southern drawl was unmistakable. "My name's Amberly and I'll be your server today. What would y'all like to drink?" "Water, please," replied Elizabeth. Jacob answered, "The same, thank you." And then they were alone again and the conversation resumed, and Elizabeth found herself drawn more and more into his words, very interested in the story of his past four years to degrees much greater than she had expected to be, and also she found herself entranced by the movement of his lips and the thin layer of stubble across his face. He was rugged and ruggedly handsome, and yet somehow so very well put together. They were halfway through the meal, engrossed in a discussion about the relationship between politics and entertainment, when his phone rang. He flipped it open. "My girlfriend," Jacob said, checking it. He answered and spoke briefly into the receiver, then flipped the phone closed. "She's right outside." And then the girlfriend was no longer outside, she was inside and approaching the table, and Elizabeth saw for the first time just how far Jacob Grant had come: his girlfriend was absolutely exquisite. The girl had blonde hair so bright it was nearly blinding, eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day, a gorgeous face, and a killer body. "Elizabeth," Jacob said, rising to his feet, "I'd like you to meet Madison Mayfield. Maddie, this is Elizabeth Beamer, an old friend of my sister's." Elizabeth smiled sweetly, an expression returned in equal measure by Madison. Whatever else the girl might be, she was very friendly and nice, and Elizabeth liked her instantly. "It's Ross now," she corrected, "and I'm not too old and don't you forget it. I'm very pleased to meet you, Madison." The girl had a beautiful voice, too. "Aww, thanks sweetie," she cooed, and from her accent it was quite clear she hailed from Texas. Pure Texas panhandle, musical and womanly. And so the nature and breadth and depth of their discussion changed dramatically thereafter as Jacob was forced to pay significant attention to his significant other, and Elizabeth received far fewer of the subtle flirtatious comments and compliments. She did not mind, though, really; in fact, she thought, it was probably for the best. In the end, after more than two hours of conversation replete with laughs and reminisces and understated glances, and even a brief and well-timed phone call from Alexis, Elizabeth took leave of the young man and young woman with an individual hug for each, and she could not help but notice the soft fleshy feel of the breasts of the latter and the strong, sure shoulders and arms of the former, and as she was walking away she wondered if there was a more attractive couple anywhere in the city, which in Los Angeles was truly saying something. And although she did not know it yet, deep in the mind of Elizabeth Ross was planted the seed that would eventually grow to bear a very unconventional and exceptional kind of fruit. * * * Jacob ripped off his shirt, buttons flying. He did not care, however, about the buttons; he was achingly hard and desperate for action, and there was nubile and willing female flesh before him ready to satisfy his every carnal desire. The bright blue eyes of Madison Mayfield twinkled as she crossed her arms down and stripped her blouse up and over her head. She was not wearing a bra (she made him aware of it subtlety during lunch) and her ample breasts plopped down into their excellent places, firm mountains of D-cup goodness that jiggled enticingly, the shriveled pink nipples delectable-looking. The girl was fantastic and had easily won over Jacob with her rare mix of beauty and personality, and while he knew he was no slouch himself in those areas, he still thanked fortune every day for dropping such a goddess into his lap. A goddess who loved to fuck, no less. Jacob licked his lips, which was a clear sign of his desire to taste her and pleasure her with his mouth, but she shook her head fiercely, pointed at his jeans and said, "I've got other plans." And with that she shimmied out of her skirt, taking her panties with it, leaving her naked but for a pair of thin white socks still covering her feet. Her body was glorious, curved in all the right places but very athletic; she was a former gymnast whose figure had blossomed too much to continue competing, but she still maintained much of the physical fitness that went along with the sport. She flopped down onto the bed, spread her legs wide to display with breathtaking agility her glistening pink pussy, grinned lewdly, and waited. Jacob wasted no time and his jeans soon followed his shirt to the floor. He vaulted onto the bed and Madison squealed, surprised by his exuberance but thrilled by it, too. She did not have time to think, however; his lips snared hers as his weight fell upon her, his hand immediately between his legs and guiding his cock to its heavenly sheath. Her hands cupped his buttocks and pulled him closer, and her eyes widened and her breath caught as the mushroom head slipped inside her, and she giggled and hooked her feet up around and behind his neck, plunging him deeper. She moaned. "Oh my god," she cooed, "you're so fucking big!" And then he was thrusting and her hips were bucking and the fuck rhythm was developed, and the squishing sound as his cock gouged out her pussy echoed through the air. Jacob clutched the juicy cheeks of her rump, lifting her up off the mattress until only her shoulders remained, her back curved lewdly and her stomach bunched up on itself. He watched as his thick meat stretched her puffy lips wide and her heavenly breasts jiggled and bounced in time with each vicious downward stroke. She whimpered and her fingers took hold of her tits, caressing them and tweaking the nipple, in part to pleasure, in part to keep them from bouncing so wildly, and she grinned wickedly up at him, knowing how much he enjoyed the sight of a woman touching herself. And then she began to tremble, a tremor that began at the tips of her toes and spread through the whole of her frame as she neared her climax, her moans broken only by the occasional gasp, until finally she came, her legs squeezing tighter around his neck, threatening to strangle him, her body wracked by vibrations for several endless moments before it relaxed. And then and only then did Jacob let himself go, and no sooner had the girl melted into the bed, her legs slipping limply from his shoulders to fall lewdly back to the mattress, than he pulled his cock from her velvety depths and erupted, painting her tits and stomach with his creamy seed. For the Sake of His Honor Jacob fell to the bed next to her. "I'm spent," he breathed. "No, you're not," she told him emphatically, hopping up to her knees. She scurried into the bathroom, luscious ass wiggling, and returned moments later with all traces of his cum removed. She crawled onto the bed and then between his legs, and tenderly took his deflated cock into her mouth. She licked and caressed it with her tongue, slurping and sucking the life back into him. "Come here," he said, and she knew exactly what he meant. As she nuzzled his balls with her nose, she curled her body around and straddled his head, knees on either side, and deposited her still-glistening pussy over his face. It looked and smelled wonderful, and he knew from experience how fantastic it tasted. Leisurely, lovingly, the beautiful young people suckled one another; her with her lips and hands on his cock, him with his tongue and fingers on her cunt. Her breasts grazed across the skin of his stomach, shriveled nipples just barely contacting his ribbed abs, her torso twisting this way and that as she gobbled his cock from different angles. Jacob was hard in no time. Madison rolled off and brought her head back up to his, and they kissed intimately, enjoying the connection between them. Their lust had driven their fucking in the first session, but now their desire was of a deeper kind and they longed for a softer, gentler coupling. Madison turned to her side and Jacob spooned up behind her, one arm encircling her from the top, his hand nestled between the pillows of her breasts, and his pelvis pressing firmly against her rounded rump. She lifted her leg and reached down between them, took hold of his erection and guided it to the entrance of her sex. Jacob sighed as he slipped easily inside. His hand crept over the curve of her hip and down between her legs, and he tickled her clitoris with his fingers. She moaned and wiggled her body, pushing her ass back against him, driving him deeper. It was a position designed to prolong their fucking for a long time, and it did: she built slowly towards orgasm, while Jacob was perfectly happy to enjoy the sensation of their union without nearing climax of his own. And after several minutes, Madison gasped and quieted, her body frozen, before she whimpered and quaked, and melted back into him. Jacob loved when she creamed around his cock; the twitches of the muscles of her vagina were so fierce, so pleasurable, they alone nearly sent him over the edge. But Jacob held back, hoping for more . . . and was insanely glad that he did. Madison giggled. "I know what you want," she said breathlessly, and she inched forward to withdraw his cock and wrapped her hand around the shaft. "You want to fuck me in a darker, dirtier place, don't you?" Jacob groaned. The girl was an absolute fiend. And then she guided the head of his cock higher, between the luscious orbs of her ass, deep into its crack and against the wrinkled little hole at its center. Madison pushed back and Jacob pushed forward, and suddenly the mushroom head of his cock burst through the tight sphincter of her ass and slithered its way into her bowels. "Oh, fuck!" the girl grunted, eyes squeezed tight as she reacted to the pain. Jacob groaned as the intense heat and compression of his beautiful girlfriend's butt overwhelmed him; Madison's ass was exquisite, and there was almost nothing better than being deep inside it. She thrust back against him gently, but Jacob clutched her hips and heaved forward, shoving his meat all the way inside her burning back passage, bottoming all seven inches out. "Oh my fucking god!" Madison wailed, her body struggling against his invasive cock. Jacob grabbed her and pulled her flush against his body, and took her with him as he rolled over onto his back, keeping his shaft deep in her ass as they went. When the maneuver was finished, Madison lay on her back on his chest, her tits thrust up into the air, his hands gripping the back of her thighs and holding them up and bent as he jacked his hips upwards and impaled her ass again and again with his cock. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" Madison was screaming now, blabbering almost incoherently. Jacob only got the opportunity to savor her ass on rare occasion, and now that another had arrived, he was seizing it fully. And so he fucked her ass brutally again and again as she wailed at him, screaming for him to fuck her harder, to split her ass open, and it was in that same position a short time later that his end finally arrived and he spewed an incredible load into her, filling her bowels. Fleetingly, he hoped that Madison's ass would not be too sore the next day. * * * Herbert Ross was an extraordinarily successful businessman, having bought and sold a handful of companies in his forty years in the working world. He was also the founder and chief executive officer of Excel Electronics, a multi-million dollar corporation and a powerhouse in the field of advanced computer graphics parts and materials. Ethel Ross was the stereotypical east coast, old money aristocrat: her fortune was inherited; her education was top-notch (Yale) despite insufficient scores; and her elitist manner and tendencies were significant. She was a formidable woman, especially when it came to issues or persons connected to her sons, and woe be to anyone foolish enough to stand in her way regarding them (or anything else, for that matter). Together, Herbert and Ethel were quite the intimidating pair, which was one reason why Elizabeth rarely enjoyed dinner with hers. Another reason, of course, was Ethel's predisposition to levy judgment on those around her, particularly Elizabeth herself. Dinner on this Friday night involved a fancy restaurant in the heart of Beverly Hills, some hip and trendy placed called the Café something-or-other, and to no one's surprise the subject Elizabeth had been dreading in advance of the dinner was brought up almost immediately. "When are you two having children?" Ethel asked pointedly with an almost glare-like stare at Elizabeth. "When I was your age, I was already into my second pregnancy. I'm not getting any younger, you know." Harrison, ever patient and kind, merely smiled and said in a smooth and even voice, "Mother, you know we're trying. You had children younger, but you started younger. Dad practically plucked you out of your cradle." His mother gasped. "Harrison!" she gasped, outraged. Herbert Ross chuckled. "Don't tease your mother, son," he said, although it was clear he could have cared less about it. "You know she means well. Come now, Harrison; you've got an excellent job, a beautiful wife and plenty of money. Unlike your very disappointing brother, things have always come easy for you. It's time to get on the ball." "I'm sure it will happen very soon," Elizabeth said then, her insides twisting at the lie. "It'd better," Ethel muttered. "I didn't approve my son's choice of you for your winning personality. I sensed excellent genes and strong fertility, and it's time you proved me right." And so the night went: Ethel judging and complaining, Herbert chuckling and drinking, Harrison sighing occasionally and keeping the peace, and Elizabeth herself fighting the near-overwhelming urge to dump her very expensive wine in her mother's very affluent lap. And over the course of the night, Elizabeth realized one thing: the parents of her husband would never accept the notion of their not having children, never accept the idea that their son could be infertile, and would make life very difficult when such knowledge came to light. Which was something Elizabeth was now very much determined never to have happen. Part Three: An Unbelievable Idea When the phone rang that ordinary Sunday afternoon, Jacob thought little of it. He did not particularly feel like talking with anyone; he was reveling in significant post-orgasm glow, having absolutely buried his blonde girlfriend for two straight hours before blowing his sizable load all over her perfect pear-shaped tits. Which were suddenly on display before him again as Madison carried his cell phone in with her from the other room. She was naked, which was exactly the way the heavens had intended her to be. She was luscious, gorgeous and hard-bodied with just the right mixture of curve and softness. Her breasts, residual stickiness still evident from the basting they received shortly ago, jiggled as she walked, and she was swishing her hips in an extremely sexy way. "Your phone, baby," said Madison sweetly as she tossed him the phone. "I'm gonna take a long hot shower, ok?" Jacob nodded and sighed, and then he saw who was calling and immediately answered. "Hello?" he asked, trying to contain his eagerness. "Jacob?" Elizabeth Ross asked tenuously. "Hi, Lizzie!" he replied cheerfully. She did not waste any time with pleasantries. "Jacob, I need your help with something," she told him in a sober voice. "I need to speak with you about it in person, and in private. Do you have time this afternoon?" Jacob was a little confused, but any reason to see Lizzie Ross was a good reason in his book, and so he agreed, which is how he came to be sitting on a bench in a small secluded park in the Mulholland Hills some forty minutes later, waiting for the woman herself to arrive. Madison did not know what he was doing; she thought he was shopping for a new outdoor basketball. The tone of Lizzie's voice was such that Jacob assumed she did not want others to know what she would be talking with him about, and Madison would never rest until he spilled all the details if she knew he was meeting his old childhood fantasy girl. When she arrived, Jacob watched her move from her car to the bench and reveled in his momentary ability to look at her unfettered (he was wearing sunglasses). She was so beautiful it nearly hurt, his chest constricting and his ears burning. She wore a bright yellow sundress, very understated but perfectly tailored to accentuate the highlights of her body, large black sunglasses and flat open-toed sandals. Her hair was loose and down around her shoulders, and with the sun behind her she looked like an angel coming upon him. She smiled when she reached him, but it was a tight smile. "Hello, Jacob," she said in a low and timorous voice. It was clear she was not very comfortable. She did not sit down right away. "Hi, Lizzie," he said. "What's up? Is everything alright?" She seemed to be struggling with something; she half-turned, almost like she was going to leave, before she shook her head and sat down. Jacob's curiosity had evaporated, concern in its place. She did not take off her sunglasses and looked out at the park, pointedly away from him, as she said, "I have a problem. I have a problem and you're . . . you might be . . . the only person in the world who is able to help." Jacob told her, "Lizzie, you and my sister go way back. You're practically family. If you need something, anything, I'm here for you." She turned to him then and for the first time he noticed the tears trickling out beneath the sunglasses. "I'm going to tell you my problem," she said, "but I don't want you to say anything until I'm finished. Please, let me say what I have to say before I lose my nerve." "Alright," he agreed slowly. She took a deep breath and looked away from him again. "My husband is a good man," she began. "He is everything a woman wants: kind-hearted, good-natured, sexy, fun, gentlemanly and chivalrous. He has very few flaws and we are very happy. He will make an excellent father." She paused then and shivered just slightly, and Jacob resisted the urge to reach out and wrap his arms around her, to comfort her. She was not his to comfort. She was not his to protect. She was a married woman, and thus off-limits. "The issue is that my husband is sterile," she said finally after long moments in a voice flat and emotionless. "He does not know. No one knows. He desperately wants children and I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. His parents are constantly pressuring us. We've been trying for almost a year. We went to the doctor and he told me the news, but Harrison was not there." She sniffled, tears threatening. "I can't tell him, it would break his heart!" Her head dropped into her hands, the sunglasses falling off and to the ground unheeded in the process, and when she raised her face to look at him again, Jacob could see the anguish in the beautiful emerald pools of her eyes. "I need to get pregnant," she whispered, turning away from him again. "For Harrison, for the sake of his happiness, his dreams of family, his very honor. His parents would not look at him the same way again if they knew he could not have children. He would not look at himself the same way. I need to get pregnant and fertility clinics are out of the question; there are no guarantees they will not screw something up. I cannot take that chance." And for the first time, it dawned on Jacob Grant where this conversation was headed, and in that moment he very nearly fell off the bench as his shock and bewilderment was so thoroughly complete, but before even the full weight of the idea settled upon him, Elizabeth Ross stated point-blank exactly what she wanted, cutting through to quick. "Jacob, for the sake of my relationship with my husband and my own personal happiness, for the very sake of my husband's honor and the honor of his family, I'm asking you to impregnate me." * * * The dinner crystallized her feelings: she would not tell Harrison or anyone else about his sterility. His parents were crazy, his mother impenetrable. She would never forgive Elizabeth, never believe Harrison's being sterile was anything other than Elizabeth's fault. The woman would tear her relationship with her husband apart, she just knew it. She would not tell anyone the secret. Which meant she had some thinking to do, and fast, and some tough decisions to make. If she were to keep the secret, there would have to be a baby involved. It was the only way to ensure no one ever doubted, no one ever found out. There were never very many options regarding a potential sperm donor and she quickly dismissed most of them. The idea of someone close to her, but not too close, becoming involved was the only real scenario Elizabeth felt she could control. Jacob Grant was the logical choice: his build and complexion were similar to Harrison's and they even shared the same hair color; he was the brother of her closest friend and an honorable guy; he was in excellent health, and also pretty smart when he put his mind to something; he was extremely attractive, quite ruggedly handsome; and it would mean a part of the baby was tied to Alexis, whom she loved like a sister. It would also mean three other things: first, Jacob would have to know the secret, which meant she would have to tell him and be comfortable that he would maintain her confidence, placing her faith and trust in him completely; second, he would have to be comfortable with the fact that his child would grow up in the world not knowing he was the actual father, content to watch from the sidelines; and third, the both of them would have to be comfortable with the process of conception, which meant they would have to sleep together. This, perhaps more than anything, was what freaked Elizabeth out the most. Her decision would require her to cheat on Harrison, commit premeditated adultery, for his own good. The irony of the idea would have been laughable, had it not been so achingly real. Her decision was not lightly made, not even in the slightest. It caused incredible anguish. Ultimately, however, she had no other choice. Which is what led her to the park in the Mulholland Hills that Sunday afternoon and the park bench upon which she currently sat, tears wet upon her cheeks, hands trembling with fear and torment, hoping he would say yes, hoping he would say no, wondering even as she spoke the fateful words just how in the hell she got to this place, just how the beginnings of this, her most unbelievable, most uncharacteristic and most outlandish idea ever, were sown. Jacob was staring at her, gray eyes dark like thunderclouds and twice as storm-tossed. It was clear her words were rolling over and over through his head, and when he spoke at long last, it was only to repeat them. "You want me to impregnate you," he said slowly. She nodded, but did not speak. "You want me to father your child." Again, she nodded. "You want me to father your child because your husband cannot have children, and it would break his heart to know it." "Yes!" The word burst from her like a geyser from the ground. She did not know if she could take anymore waiting; his lack of any real kind of response was killing her. "How?" he asked in a low voice. His meaning was clear. She lowered her eyes. "I think you know," she replied, acutely self-conscious. The silence was palpable. "When?" he asked finally. Hope flowered within her. "As soon as possible," she told him. "There is no guarantee it will take the first try. Likely, it won't." "More than once," he said slowly, considering. "This is a heavy thing you are asking, Lizzie." And for the first time she heard something through the seriousness and the surprise, the underlying tone to his voice: tenderness, a special and different kind of tenderness. She wondered if it was real, or if she was imagining it. "Why me?" he asked, strained. Honesty, she knew, was the only course. "Because you are kind and smart and handsome," she told him, not meeting his gaze, "and you look a little like Harrison and have the same body type, and your family means so much to me, and your sister means so much to me, and you are one of the few people I believe I can trust with a secret of this magnitude, a secret that could destroy my entire life if it ever came to light. Honestly, Jacob, you are the only person I would ever consider doing this with, and I believe you came into my life at the exact moment I needed you. In some ways, I think your coming was fate guiding me to this decision." And then she looked at him and saw a different kind of light in his eyes, and he asked, softly, "Would I get to be involved?" She smiled, which was unexpected. "I was thinking you and Alexis would be the godparents," she told him. He smiled right back at her. "I'd like that," he said. She rose to her feet, suddenly feeling embarrassed and extremely self-conscious. "Don't answer right now," she told him. "Please, take some time and carefully consider what I'm asking, and everything it entails. You have a beautiful girlfriend; you would have to deceive her. You would have to deceive everyone in your life, forever; no one can ever know the child is yours. It is a heavy burden I'm placing upon you, Jacob, if you say yes. Please, think about it." "I will," he promised. She smiled again, gently. "Thank you, Jacob," she breathed, and turned on her heels and went back to her car, very careful not to let on that her knees and legs felt completely like Jell-O. * * * "Tell me what you want." It was late, well past midnight, and Madison was bent lewdly at the waist, her palms flat against the wall, her back and legs forming a perfect ninety-degree angle. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, her silk panties nimbly rolled down around her thighs in a taut band, revealing her fully, and cool air trailed over her wet, exposed pussy, and she whimpered with need. Jacob stood behind her, roughly having manipulated her body into its current position, dominating her completely as she so often preferred to be, loving the power he had over her and reveling in the lushness of her body.