They Got Her Pregnant!

by Sasha Medly

  “Well, for example,” she said. “I’m still one of those boring early people at parties.”

  He took the hint quickly, eyeing her hands moving to her phone and purse.

  “Out so soon?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. He wasn’t going to offer it to her or suggest anything. He was going to wait until she asked. There was a certain hotness in a game like that. He wanted her to decide, her to take the control on that. It was something she appreciated on a sweeter level. Usually the men who ended up back in her room, itching to take her clothes off, practically threw themselves at her, hoping to be asked in. She let them have what they wanted for a time before she shut them down. She knew they called her a tease and maybe she was one.

  But Hunter’s patience, his putting the ball in her court, that was hot in a different way. It was new and exciting and she wanted nothing more than to find the perfect way to phrase a question to bring him back to her apartment.

  “You might give it a try too,” she said.

  “Give what a try?” he asked.

  “Leaving early.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because there might be better things than stale beer in more private locations,” she said with a shrug and began to slowly walk away. She hoped on everything and every god she could think of that this worked. She swayed her hips with just some extra waves through the air.

  After a few seconds she heard the scrape of his stool on the tile of the bar floor. She tried not to smirk too much to herself. She turned around and their eyes met again as they had when he walked out of the arena. Except this time, they wouldn’t be interrupted. She’d bring him back to the hotel room she and her friends were staying at and would have no problems locking them out all night and telling them to sleep in the lobby or find some men of their own to give them a bed for the night in extra for some open legs. She’d wanted this for years, she wouldn’t lose the chance now.

  She walked out of the bar and he followed behind. The night air was chillier than she expected and it heightened her senses, the tingle of her skin, the goosebumps that were raised there as she moved through the darkness, feeling more powerful every second. She had him on a string. He’d given her the tools and she took them and used them the best way she could. She hoped it would be enough to get what she wanted, what she’d been hoping for.

  “Where to?” he asked, breathing into her ear.

  “My hotel room, if you’d like.”

  “I think you can tell how much I do like,” he said and pressed his hips into her ass. She felt something solid there, she turned bright red. She was familiar with that particular phenomenon and anatomy. But the idea of him getting that way for her, the proof of how much he wanted her. It excited her.

  She took the last burst of courage she had left and reached behind her to place a hand over his crotch. She heard him gasp.

  “Let’s go then,” she said, hoping he could hear the shake in her voice.

  #

  He could feel how tight his pants were over top of him as they made their way to the Holiday Inn she was staying at. It was almost embarrassing how hard he was. But it would be worth it, the second the door closed behind them, he had her pressed against the wall and all that pent up energy and tension got a chance to spring free. He tried not to think about it too much out of fear of coming too early one the fun finally began. He wasn’t about to embarrass himself after getting this far.

  She took the plastic key out of her bag and slid it into the door lock in a tantalizingly slow pace. He watched it go in, out again, and the light turn green. She pushed the door open and he followed her in, the second it was closed, her turn at leading this little game of theirs ended in a second. Her back was against it and his body was against hers.

  He wasted no time in exploring all those luscious curves with his hands and fingertips and grinding himself against her at a languid pace. Her hips pushed back, meeting his until they found a rhythm between each other and moved like the roll of water. She was moaning already as he pushed more and more, trying to get as close as possible to her through the restrictions of the fabric between them. After a few moments of this, he realized it had to go.

  He unzipped his pants and dropped them to the ground, kicking them away. His boxers went next as she worked to get the buttons of his shirt open. His full erection sprang free and he heard her gasp. She broke the kiss to look down at the full sight of him while he nuzzled into her neck and licked and sucked at every crevice that seemed to hide the salt of her skin. He groaned into her neck.

  She didn’t make a move so he took her wrist in his hand. He felt no resistance as he brought her hand to his length and began to move it. Eventually, he removed his hand from her wrist and she kept the movement up on her own, squeezing just slightly like an expert. He groaned into her neck and his hips started their motion again. His fingers worked on the button of her own pants and popped them open. He plunged his hand inside and immediately went in search of that tiny bundle of nerves he knew so well. His moved his hand inside her underwear and felt the velvet heat there.

  He found what he was looking for and began to rub in the practiced way he’d perfected over the years. She let out a louder moan than she had all night.

  “Did you let other guys do this to you?” he asked. He stopped her movements over himself and moved back just slightly, directing her attention to the scene below of his hand in her pants. She bit her lip, obeying and looking down.

  With his friend hand he peeled her jeans off and her underwear so the full beauty of his work could be seen. With his hand still on her, he pushed her gently until she fell back on the bed and he fell over top of her. He pushed her knees so her legs spread for him and the full elegance of the folds between her legs was laid bare.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he husked into her ear, pressing his weight against and using his hips to gain momentum for his wrist, moving fluidly over the area below.

  “I’ve never,” she said breathlessly, punctuating it with a pause for a moan. “I’ve never gone this far before.”

  “You want to keep going?”

  “Yes.”

  He smirked. He was going to give her something know many had ever given her before. He was sure she masturbated. She was a healthy adult with a clear sex drive, even if it was hiding underneath layers of shyness. He moved and moved, hearing her breathing become staccato and her moans become higher in pitch.

  Then it happened. She went still for a second before bucking more wildly and he held her still while he worked over her clit as fast as he could, coaxing out every sound he could as she came down from the high. She was ready now, like a bull all worked up before the show.

  “I’m about to give you something else as well,” he said.

  He moved in between her legs fully now. He took his hand that had brought her to orgasm and began to pump himself, readying and lubricating as she watched with wide eyes and flushed skin. He smiled. He pulled her in roughly by the hips until he was only just touching her with the tip of himself.

  “You ready?”

  He asked. She nodded.

  He slowly moved in. He looked down to watch himself disappear inside of her and thanked whatever gods existed that he didn’t come right there because he was nearly about to. He moved until their hips were flush. She let out small gasps here and there and he felt the full tightness as her walls hugged at him and stretched to accommodate. He never wanted this to end, even as he began pumping inside her.

  Her moans had gotten nearly pornographic as he moved quickly. It felt like being out in the arena, riding so furiously and to such praise as her voice got higher and higher, her eyes squeezed shut, lip between her teeth. Harder, he told himself in his mind. He could go harder and deeper. He wanted every inch of her he could get before this was over so he did and she only sang out his praises as sped up and up and up until it was his turn to go ri
gid and still and feel himself release with the most glorious sigh he’d ever heard from himself.

  “How was that for a first time?” he asked gruffly, pulling out of her.

  “I think I’ll need to go again, just to make sure.”

  He smirked and went in to claim her lips.

  The End.

  Story

  Elisa

  It was 1666 and London was in ruins. The fire engulfed almost every man-made edifice to the ground. Charred remnants of a once proud city humbled by Mars anger, the sea of people now dried up, a burial mound not only of the deceased but also the shattered lives of those who were brutally left behind. It was here that Elisa’s fortune turned for the better, though at first, it seemed that her life would never recover, that her baptism in fire has burned her to death.

  It was the fourth day after the dreaded fire and everything was in ruins. Elisa was a young girl, fresh out of her childhood, yet wasn’t at the flower of her age. The fire not only claimed her living, but also the person dear to her life, her father. Their small butchery was burned to the ground and in the midst of all the commotion during the fire, Elisa’s father, due to his paternal love for his only child, sacrificed his life to let Elisa escape. Elisa saw how her father was buried alive by the burning rubble of their butchery. Her screams of horror blanketed by the roar of the flames and the mourns of thousands of people.

  She sat catatonic, irresponsive, shocked and immobile by the cruel twist of fate. Her brown hair, singed at the edges, and thick due to soot and grime. In front of her was the butchery they own and in front of it was her father’s corpse, burnt beyond recognition. Hauled hastily by concerned neighbors, who thought it merciful to at least, remove the deceased from such an ignoble tomb.

  Having nowhere else to go, she needed to return to the countryside, back to her mother, her estranged mother, and her two step sisters, born from different husbands, which all have died. Elisa despised her mother bitterly, but what can she do? Her blissful life with her father was cut short by the heavens and a life in misery seemed to be her last absolute fate.

  The trip out of London was harsh, terrible and torture to the soul. She sat on a carriage off to the countryside and all around her were the dead, dying and those longing to die. Her sickly pale skin blemished by bruises, chapped lips due to two days of starvation and deep baggy eyes from sleepless nights. She had hitched a ride with a nice couple, who was a former patron of their thriving butchery. She sat, still in the same clothes she wore during the dreaded fire. A brown skirt, with a similar dull colored blouse, all dirtied by grime. It seemed that her muses have sowed her mouth shut as she felt unable to speak to anyone.

  As they moved trudge at snail’s pace out of the destroyed capital, Sarah saw the billowing towers of black smoke, rising ominously up to the edge of the clouds, as if the furnace of the abyss was opened up and damnation had come to those unworthy of salvation.

  After a few days of travel and after recovering slightly from the tribulation that befall of Elisa’s young life, they reached her mother’s abode. Now able to speak and more importantly smile, she thanked the couple tremendously, hugging them more than once, shedding tears of sadness to allow happiness to blossom anew.

  “Take care, child,” the couple said to her and they parted ways. Elisa stood there in front of her mother’s home, which was larger than every other house in the country. It was a small manor, but a mansion still and made out of stone. A courtyard was its façade, surrounded by a garden, left to the elements, now like an unkempt hair of a vagabond. Shrubs, vines and all manner of weeds filled the garden turning it into a mess of unruly foliage.

  She walked cautiously towards the door and with a heavy, nervous and remorseful heart, knocked three times at the heavy oak door. A shout replied, “Who’s there?” a snarl of a woman, late in her forties, raspy and mean. The knob turned speedily and in an angry manner of opening the door, Elisa saw her mother.

  “Mother,” Elisa sheepishly greeted,

  “Oh, my god,” Elisa’s mother replied, “What the hell happened to you?”

  Elisa looked at her feet, as if embarrassed at what she had done.

  “What happened?” Elisa’s mother reiterated, as if interrogating a seditious slave. “…and where’s your father?”

  Elisa’s tears forced its way out of her bloodshot eyes. “He’s dead,” Elisa said, “He died a few days ago, during the fire.”

  Elisa’s mother stared stiffly at her daughter. Her eyes squinted as if meticulously appraising fraudulent jewelries.

  “life…” Elisa’s mother said, coldly and without any warmth of pity. “so, this means you are to live here?”

  Elisa dared not reply. She knew her mother well and how unsympathetic she can become. Never in her life that she felt any motherly love from this person, yet she can’t find the courage to defend herself from the brutal insults coming from her mother, Caroline.

  “What else can I do? You father always gives me troubles and after dying like that, he now dumps his troubles on me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Elisa shyly said,

  “Sorry, hah, you’re sorry?” Caroline said, “…don’t you think that you’ll live here like a princess. You’ll work like the others.”

  “Your imbecilic father spawned you and now he’s dumping you on me, unbelievable!”

  The door was left open to her, Caroline angrily waded through her house founded upon the meager wealth of her two deceased husbands. At the door, where Elisa stood, still aching from the resentment of being under a mother devoid of love was Jane, one of the servants in the house.

  She slowly approached Elisa and held her hand. “How are you,” Jane said, her voice soft and inviting. Elisa looked at Jane, her eyes drowning in tears and embraced her tightly. She didn’t mourn during her father’s death, but now, under the roof of her cold mother, she mourns.

  Time flew swifter than an eagle and two years had passed.

  Fate was cruel to Elisa as she became the abused servant of Caroline and her daughters. Though to the other women under servitude to this malevolent matriarch, Elisa was a dear friend. Every morning, Elisa would fetch cold water from the well just outside Caroline manor and help in preparing the meals for the entire household.

  However, this was not the only thing Elisa endures in that place. Caroline’s daughters, Althea and Mary were abusive as their mother was. Most of the time, Althea and Mary would order Elisa on errands from cleaning their rooms to emptying their chamber pots. Aside from that, Caroline never treated Elisa like a daughter and in some cases treated her less than her slaves. It was if Elisa was an unwanted blemish on a costly dress, unable to cast aside because of her relation to Caroline.

  In many cases, Althea, the older of the two daughters, would slap Elisa whenever she would do something not according to her whims. A bath with warm water instead of hot, would result in Elisa being slapped two or three times in the face by Althea. Food not cooked properly by the manor cook would get Elisa another barrage of slaps just because she was the one who placed it on the table. Day in and day out, every week and every month, there isn’t a day that Elisa didn’t got hit, slapped or kicked for trivial reasons. However, Elisa didn’t fight back, she took all of the pain and just released it all through her tears every night inside her cramp room.

  One day, Caroline’s manor was selected as the venue for the birthday celebration of the Baron’s heir apparent, Jacob. It was a festive occasion but Elisa was not thrilled.

  “Another chore that I need to labor on,” She thought as the head chamberlain oriented everyone over the details of the preparation.

  Elisa sat on a stool, beside her was Jane, the only person who she really trusted. Though she would always return back to her room whenever sad and a dove, regularly comes by and coos on her only window in her stale, unadorned, cold room. After the orientation, Elisa went back to her chores of the day, which on that particular occasion was buying produce from the market.

  At the
market, Elisa was choosing the best produces for the manor when a horse galloped near her and startled her. The produce she was holding fell to the ground. Noticing this, the man in the horse quickly got off his steed and hurried towards Elisa, who was picking up the bunch of potatoes scattered on the road.

  “I am very sorry for that?” the man said,

  “Oh, forgive me my lord, I was clumsy, I can handle this my lord,” Elisa replied, bowing in respect at the man.

  The man saw that Elisa was comely in appearance and quite beautiful.

  “What is your name?” The man said,

  “Elisa my lord,”

  “Elisa?” the man added, “Where do you live?”

  “My lord, I live with Lady Caroline Manaugh, in Manaugh manor.”

  “Lady Caroline?” the man said, “I see.”

  Elisa stood nervous as the man seemingly interrogated her. Elisa’s head bowed, her eyes transfixed to the ground. It was like it is a sin to gaze upon this man’s face.

  “Can I see your face,” The man requested,

  Elisa then lifted her face and saw the man, it was Sir Jacob, the heir apparent of the Baron. Elisa was flabbergasted, though she did not dare wince her stare.

  “You’re quite beautiful for a servant?” Sir Jacob said,

  “You flatter this humble maid sir,” Elisa said, “But I am not beautiful, my master’s daughters are much more enticing, good sir.”