by K T Morrison
Hollis looked to Carly, his expression serious, his eyes traveling from her pale white hand and up to her eyes. Slowly his head began to nod. He said, “This is a big decision. For all of us. The Clinic has you cleared for insemination, and now, normally, I have no role... they take my donation and deliver it to whoever is a qualified match. But I agree that natural insemination has an intangible value. It’s why I registered.”
Carly chewed her lower lip, eyes focused on Hollis’s while she waited on his words.
Hollis licked his lips, his eyes now moving to Carly’s, hers parted in anticipation. He said, “I ordered the shellfish because tonight is the last night you’ll be able to enjoy it. At least over the next nine months.”
Carly’s lips trembled as she struggled to confirm what this meant. She just wanted to hear the words. Sean squeezed her hand, and he ran his thumb over her knuckles. Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes darted back and forth over his. “Wha—you mean...”
Hollis said, “Carly, I knew when I sat down with you that you were perfect.”
“I… I am?”
4
The apartment on the 44th floor of the Mandarin Emperor had been their home for the four years since they’d been married. Fourteen-hundred square feet, clean and angular and devoid of artifice. Their home was about function and good design. They knocked over the two small xericulture garden pots on the ebony table in the hall, stumbling in together, hands running over each other’s body.
“Mm, oh my God, Sean... I can’t believe it,” Carly gasped around the kisses she ran over her husband’s neck.
“Mm, I love you, Carly,” he gulped around his own kisses as his hands stroked her back, their feet skittering in the small granite stones scattered from their broken pots over their black marble floor. He slammed the door, kicking it with the toe of his shoe, then shoving his wife against it. She cried out, held his gaze for a long moment, then a smile pulled one side of her face.
“He’s perfect. Sean, isn’t he perfect?”
“He is.”
“Oh, my God, Sean. I can’t believe he agreed,” she said, holding her forehead as if she were feverish. He could see her cheeks were flushed even in the dim.
“I can, Carly. We’ll be great parents. He knows it.”
Their legs were crossed like scissors—her right leg between his two, the other on the outside of his thigh. Carly pressed her sex against his thigh, squeezed his leg between hers.
He said, “You really want it natural?”
“I do, Sean, I really do,” she said, her hips beginning to swivel, her pussy squashing against him. He flexed his thigh for her, gave her something hard to work against.
“You’re prepared for that?”
“What do you mean?” she gasped as he ran his tongue along her neck.
He said, “You’re going to make love to another man.”
“Are you okay with it?”
“I want what you want, Carly.”
“Sean, I really want this.”
“Okay, okay, Carly,” he said, mind reeling, feeling his wife’s hot crotch grind against his leg
While he took her mouth with his own, one hand gripping her neck, his mouth formed a seal over hers and her little tongue darted against his. His free hand ran up under her skirt. Carly made muffled appreciative sounds knowing where his hand was headed. He shoved it up high enough to feel her bare tummy then dug his fingers underneath her tights, underneath her panties, down through her pubic hair.
From her humping against him, she’d smeared her warm sexual excitement all up her hips and her mound. He felt her coarse wet hair scratching at his fingertips. When he touched her labia, she blurted into his mouth.
He laughed, said, “God, Carly, you’re so wet. I can’t believe how wet you are.”
Carly gripped his shoulders, dug the points of her fingers into him as he stroked her, felt her wet and slippery hood, slipped a finger inside her. She gasped and moaned, threw her head back, her chin tilting to the ceiling.
“God, Sean,” she gasped, “his voice is so deep. Did you see how big his hands were?”
“You like him?” he asked, his finger slipping in and out of her with ease. He added another.
“Mm, he’s-ss perfect, Sean…”
He bumped his forehead against hers, eyes point blank in front of her baby blues. His fingers worked in and out of his wife as she pinched his leg with her thighs, and he pleasured her with three fingers now. When she opened her eyes, and they stared into one another, he said, “Carly, we’re going to have a baby.”
She held his cheeks, eyes wet and shining, and she whispered, “I know, baby—we’re going to be p-parents.”
“I love you so much,” he said.
“I love you, too, Sean. So much. You’re going to be the best dad,” she whispered and gripped the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him gently to return to her lips.
She opened his suit jacket roughly, pulled back from the kiss. She tugged the jacket down his arms and he removed his hand from her panties. His fingers dripped with her sexual lubricant.
She said, “Take me to the bed, Sean. Make love to me.”
Carly clung to him, putting her arms up and around his neck, one thigh climbing up his hip. He reached down and grabbed the back of both her thighs and hoisted her up. He stumbled with her through the front hall, crashing against the walls as he went, then down the corridor that led to the bedroom.
He stumbled past the threshold, dropping her legs before they made it to the bed then holding her by her waist and walking her backward until she fell onto their bed. He was up and over her, hands taking her sweater and lifting it up. His kisses went from her mouth down to her bare belly, kissing her warm stomach and along the ridges of her ribs. Her arms crossed one over the other and pulled the sweater over her head. Her long blonde hair tumbled out of the neck hole, fanned out on their charcoal gray sheets.
“You’re so beautiful, Carly,” he sighed.
She watched him as she lay back, thumbnail pressed between her perfect white teeth, head cocked in a coquettish manner, watching her husband get to his knees as she lifted her legs up and he tugged on her leggings and threw them to the floor. He kissed both her knees as she held them together, hips writhing back and forth as she flexed her muscles, and he supposed grinding her sex between her legs.
Seeing the man that would put his seed inside her had driven his wife wild tonight. She was more aroused than he could ever remember. More than when they lost their virginity together on their honeymoon night in Barbados. They’d never been with anyone before, either of them, having behaved themselves in segregated college. He’d met her at a marriage mixer the month before he graduated—a reliable way for the schools to combine compatible partners. He hadn’t believed his luck when he’d been paired with the most beautiful girl in the room. He had a lot to offer, not being wholly unattractive and of course being very employable.
Her leg scissoring, one knee up, one knee down, he kissed the inside of her thigh. Slowly they parted, and he kissed higher.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He paused. “Do you want me to?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. Then her voice even softer: “Yes,” she said, “try it.”
He kissed up her thigh, and she kept herself covered still. As he got closer she parted her legs, allowing him in there. He’d never touched a woman with his tongue before. Tonight seemed like the right time. Her energy, her arousal, it was igniting his own. He loved to see her this way.
With his hands he guided her knees farther apart and his wife let him. He looked between her legs, saw that part of her that was hidden from everyone, saw its beauty and its perfection. Pink and wrinkled and shining, so inviting; he got his mouth between her legs and felt her trembling.
He asked her: “Is this okay?”
He thought she nodded, but her head thrust back into the pillows, too embarrassed to watch. She produced a lot of wet. He could smel
l her, smell that musky excited scent, saw the glistening sheen that her arousal had produced and smeared all between her legs.
He darted the tip of his tongue across that swollen pink part of her and his wife bucked at the touch. It was coppery and bitter and so amazing. He spread his tongue wider and touched her low and it made her uncomfortable, her legs coming together to close around his ears. Her nails ran through his hair and now she was sitting up.
She said, “Come up here with me, Sean. Make love to me…”
He unbuttoned his shirt while he kissed her, and she squeezed his erection through his pants. Shirt off, pants unzipped, his fly opened, he undid his belt, pulled his pants down. Now he was kneeling and she was sitting, his penis pointed toward her. He ran his hands through her hair while she looked up at him. Here was an opportunity for her to try using her mouth but she wasn’t interested. It was so close to her pretty lips. He wouldn’t ask—but would love to feel what it would be like to put his arousal inside her mouth, feel her tongue on him.
“Please, Sean, make love to me—I need it so bad,” she whispered. “I really do…”
“Lay back for me, Carly. Go on and put your head up on the pillows…”
“Hurry, Sean,” she said, wriggling up the bed, one hand between her legs, pressing down onto her womanhood. “Get a condom, please…”
Since they’d been cleared for procreation—Carly with flying colors, Sean with a bureaucratic reluctance and a caveat—Carly had been weaned off her government contraceptive injections. Sex these last two months had been strange and archaic. He’d been pulling a rubber sheath over his erection to insert it into his wife. The whole idea was weird, but given that she was fertile now and he wouldn’t be the fertilizer, he was using manual contraception. He missed the feel of her membranes against his, but they didn’t want him ejaculating inside her.
Inside the drawer of the bedside table his hand banged around till he found the foil square that held a latex SnugSafe. He tore the holographic metal paper, pulled out the greasy rubber while his beautiful Carly watched his hands work, her own both pressed between her thighs as her bare legs writhed in the sheets with what she did to herself.
When he had his pants and shirt off and the condom rolled down to the base of his erection, he got over his wife on all fours. She opened her legs wider for him.
He said, “Are you ready?”
Between her legs, her two sets of fingers pressed down, running in hard, tight circles. He could hear her wetness. She said, “I’m so ready, Sean.”
He lowered his lips to hers, taking her kiss, holding the base of his erection as he moved his hips to hers. Her hands parted, and he felt the pads of her fingertips pushing his stiffness toward her entry. The tip of him parted her and he slid up inside. She sighed into his mouth.
Carly felt incredible around him; hot even through the rubber. He began to grind into her, doing it slow and easy while he kissed her and the feel of her nails dragging on his back made his hair stand on end.
Eight days from now another man, a stranger to them, would be doing this with his wife. She would run her nails up that man’s back while his penis was inside her; though she may not—this was to be clinical and purposeful, not intimate. But the idea that she may be taken away by passion, as she was tonight, excited him. His wife wanted this the natural way. And the natural way was so dirty.
What would it be like to see her with another man? Could he watch her make love with Hollis? Insemination performed the organic way was so thrilling—so natural. So biological. But, he supposed, that was the beauty of nature. Hollis was an incredible man and they would be lucky to have him donate his genetics inside his loving Carly. Deep inside.
That was another issue: Hollis was a big man. He had big hands that dwarfed Carly’s elegant digits. He would be large everywhere. When Hollis had approached the table Sean noted the bulge in his finely made slacks. Didn’t think that was an accident of tailoring. Was pretty sure that was genuine flesh that pushed his pants out that way. Two things: 1) Would Carly be able to accommodate a man like that? And: 2) Was Sean comfortable with Carly accommodating a man like that?
“Oh, Sean,” Carly gasped, her hips bucking up to meet his thrusts now, her voice high and breathy. “Oh, you’re so hard... so, oh, h-hard.”
He was, too. The sound of her ecstatic voice, the notion that he would witness her like this—see her taken away to somewhere libertine in the arms of another man—had his heart racing faster than he could ever remember. His hips drove harder and harder, faster and faster. Their bed made soft banging noises against the wall. Carly began to grunt with his thrusts, her back arching so her sex tilted hungrily to his fucking.
He watched her underneath him, her eyes rolled up, her mouth hanging open. He’d never seen her like this.
A crazy idea crawled up his back and whispered in his ear. She was hot and wet tonight, Sean, but not for you... she has a curious ache for the man who would come inside her next week…
He hated it at once, and in the next heartbeat he was in love with it, the very notion pulling his trigger.
“Agh, oh, mmph,” he blurted as his own abrupt orgasm surprised him. He buckled, curled his back, tightened his stomach muscles, all while still trying to put his thing as deep into Carly as it would go.
“Oh, Sean, oh no, oh,” she moaned with a tinge of disappointment that their session was done just as it was getting good.
“Sorry, mm, oh, sorry,” he sighed, hips still grinding, his cock still pulsing inside her tightness as his seed shot into its rubber pouch.
“Oh, Sean,” Carly whined, her neck curled so her head thrust back into the pillow, her eyes squinted shut.
“I’m sorry, Carly,” he said again, “just give me a few minutes, I can go again.”
“Okay,” she sighed, “careful,” she added as he withdrew his waning hardness from her. She ran the ‘V’ of her two fingers on either side of his shaft, sitting up to watch between her legs. “Make sure it doesn’t slip off, Sean.”
“It won’t, Carly,” he said.
“You’re not as hard now, Sean, you could pull out of the condom...”
“I’ve got it,” he said, pinching the rolled lip of the condom against the base of his cock, feeling it slip a little. When he withdrew, the reservoir tip of the condom swung heavily with the load he’d propelled into it. That could have been in his wife.
“Careful,” she reminded him, scooting farther up the bed, like she was afraid his seed would drip on her.
Sean backed off the bed, slipping off the condom as he went. When it was free, he tied it in a knot and took it into their bathroom, throwing it in the trashcan.
Carly was in bed when he returned. He climbed in next to her and found she had tucked the sheets around her body. He snuggled closer, and she turned to him.
“Isn’t this so incredible, Sean?” She was beaming.
“It is, Carly.” He lay his hand on her cheek. She fidgeted under the sheets, her hands twisting at the fabric with nervous excitement. It had been a stressful few days and now it was ended with the greatest news.
Now a new tension had emerged: counting down the days until their donor would come to deliver Carly’s insemination…
5
Carly took an hour long bath, and she was still in there now forty-five minutes later, accompanied by the whine of her hairdryer. Tonight was the night. Shortly, there would be an announcement from reception they had a visitor. The visitor would take the elevator to the 44th floor and a knock would come to the door. The man that would donate his genetic material for the sake of their child would be in their apartment. Here to perform his task.
The previous week had seen tension like he never felt before. Being around Carly was like walking on eggshells. He supposed after ceasing the contraceptive injections her body was flooded with hormones, reignited and put into hyper-drive now that she’d been accepted and approved by the donor. She wasn’t like the Carly he knew—these days prone t
o frustration; throwing spoons down when she found she’d added too much sugar to her tea, looking in the mirror when she dressed in the morning and sitting on the bed and crying, on the phone with her mother and crying again, sitting in the kitchen and dabbing her eyes with a tissue …
In an effort to suppress her wild emotions, she’d been going to yoga every night since they met Hollis at the restaurant. Getting her mind together. Spending some time meditating, getting in tune with herself. On Tuesday she’d gone to the salon, the expensive one over in the Financial District. Got herself a fresh new cut and wash. Nothing too fancy, in fact she looked as stunning as ever, not really more so—but he imagined the appointment was for herself. Something to do with her idle time while they waited for their two-day conception window to open. Hollis was arriving on day one of that window.
“Hey, Sean…?”
He’d been loitering near the bathroom door and didn’t mind getting called out.
“Yes,” he said rising up from the bed where he’d been sitting on the corner listening to her perform her ablutions in the bathroom.
From behind the door her muffled voice: “Can you come in here?”
“Yes, Carly,” he said, standing right outside the door now. “You want me to come in?”
Her soft voice said, “Yes, please.”
He opened the door and entered their bathroom, granite counter down one side with deep stainless sinks and a full-length mirrored wall; their electronic steel woshuretto toilet at the end, the left an entire glassed-in unit, also black marble, twelve shower jets protruding. Beyond the shower: their bathtub.
The room still smelled like the lavender and vanilla oils that his wife had soaked in for an hour. Standing in the center of the room, wearing a white terry robe, bare legs and feet, one stepped over top of the other, bare toes curling, Carly said, “It’s almost time.”