Her Baby Donor

by Chance Carter

  Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I wasn’t about to start complaining.

  To save money, I reluctantly drove past beautiful, luxury, spa hotels located right on the beach.

  What I needed was a modest motel. Nothing fancy. I started to cringe as all the stereotypes associated with motels jumped into my mind. Never in my thirty-plus years had I ever stayed at one.

  People do it all the time, I told myself.

  How bad can it be?

  It’s not like I’m a princess.

  I spotted a sign with the word ‘motel’ on it and took the next exit. It led to the town of Pismo Beach. It was easy to see I’d arrived in an adorable little beach town. I found the motel and pulled up outside.

  A very young, very tanned, blonde girl greeted me at the front desk.

  “Welcome to the Rolling Wave Motel. Do you have a reservation?”

  “No, but do you have any rooms available?” I asked, hoping her answer would be yes.

  “We sure do. Our drop-in rate is eighty-nine dollars, will that be fine?” she asked.

  I smiled and told her it would be. The truth was, I never knew it was possible to get a night anywhere that cheap. I really had been living in an upperclass suburban housewife bubble.

  I worried what kind of condition my eighty-nine dollar room might be in but the lobby seemed clean enough so I tried to relax.

  As the girl took my credit card and photo ID, I realized I was starving.

  “Is there anywhere nearby that’s still open to eat?” I asked.

  She smiled and looked me up and down, trying to pair me with the most suitable restaurant for a guest of my type.

  “There’s an amazing local winery overlooking the ocean, ” she started, but I cut her off.

  “No wine. I do not want wine.”

  I’d startled her. I felt bad for snapping, but there was no way I was drinking wine. Even the thought of it made my stomach turn.

  “How about beer?” she asked with understandable caution.

  When I didn’t snap back she continued.

  “There’s a really cool brewery down the way that has an amazing late night menu.”

  “Beer, I can do. That sounds perfect.”

  She smiled and wrote down the name of the brewery, explaining how to get there. Then she handed me the keys to my room.

  I turned around, looking for the bellboy to help with my luggage, before realizing two things.

  One, there would be no bellboys in my life for a while, and two, I didn’t have any luggage.

  I went to my car and drove to room thirty-four. I got out and took a deep breath. I knew it was pathetic for a grown woman, about to embark on a new life on her own, to worry about such a little thing, but I really was worried about finding mouse droppings, cockroaches, rats, blood stains even! The closest I’d ever been to a motel was watching bank robber movies.

  I turned the key in the lock and braced myself for what I was about to see.

  And … not bad, I thought with a sigh of relief.

  The room was fine, cute even.

  A queen-sized bed with a less than fashionable pastel-colored duvet on it. Above the bed was a large, tacky, beach-themed oil painting. I went to check the bathroom, which was small but clean. It had everything I needed.

  It was fine. Everything was fine.

  I’d be okay. I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life by walking out on my rich, asshole husband.

  And then I had a flashback to some stupid investigation show I’d seen once about how filthy motel rooms are, especially the duvet covers because they never get washed. They used a special light over the duvets from ten different motels and eight were covered in cum.

  So. Gross.

  I immediately grabbed two wash clothes and used them as mitts to rip the pastel duvet off the bed. I threw it in the corner without letting any part of it touch my skin. I was so disgusted at the thought of how many filthy men had probably jizzed all over it.

  Ironic really, because a moment later my disgust turned to disappointment at the thought of just how long it had been since any man, filthy or otherwise, had jizzed all over me.

  Who’d have ever thought it?

  A perfectly healthy, relatively attractive young woman, married to a sex addict no less, and I hadn’t had sex in well over a year.

  It really does a number on your sex life when your husband is out getting it elsewhere.

  Asshole.

  I felt a pang of emotion at the thought of him. His cheating started pretty much as soon as we got married and deep down I always knew the truth. There were so many telltale signs.

  I couldn’t stand the thought of touching him, but the really sad part was that after years of being cheated on, I couldn’t really stand the thought of being touched by anyone.

  I used to be so fucking attracted to that man, especially when we started dating in high school. Now when I looked at him, all I saw was a monster.

  I turned on the shower and hopped in to quickly rinse off my body. I got out, toweled off, and grabbed my small makeup bag from my purse. It only had the touch up essentials but it would do.

  I applied fresh cover up, redid my eyeliner, and touched up my mascara. I may not have had a change of clothes, but I was relieved to have my makeup bag.

  I’d rather die than be caught without makeup.

  I finished with a fresh coat of deep red lipstick and used a tissue to tone it down. I did a quick teeth check in the mirror and then, without stopping to think how long it had been since I’d gone out anywhere alone at night, headed to the brewery for a few beers and some well-deserved food.

  CHAPTER 4

  MEADOW

  The brewery was only a few blocks away but I decided to drive. On the way to the motel I remembered passing a bank and wanted to stop there first. I needed to get out as much cash as I could because I knew it was only a matter of time before my access to money was cut off for good.

  I pulled up in front of the bank and parked. Initially I thought I shouldn’t take too much. I didn’t want to raise suspicion. But I quickly came to my senses.

  First, I withdrew the maximum allowed for cash advances from each of my eight credit cards.

  Next, I put in my debit card and my stomach sank when an alert popped up and I was informed I could only withdraw five hundred dollars from the checking and savings accounts. I took what I could get and looked around nervously as I shoved fifteen-thousand dollars in my purse and cautiously walked back to my car. It was a lot of money to be carrying around with me, but it was not a lot of money to start a new life with.

  Matt would have called it stealing, and I know what it looks like. I’m too good to be married to him but I’m not too good for his money.

  But that’s really not fair. That money was half mine, even if Matt was the one who brought it in. I helped him start his business, I stood by his side while he rose to the top, and fifteen thousand dollars was a pittance compared to what he had. He had our house, our savings, the business, the vehicles, apart from my Lexus. Maybe one day all that would get sorted by a bunch of expensive divorce lawyers, but for now, fifteen grand was what I could get, and that was what I was taking. Every penny.

  As if I wasn’t already feeling anxious enough, the second I turned my car off in front of the brewery, my stomach sank even deeper. Whatever confidence I’d had when I left the motel vanished as I looked inside the brightly lit windows of the bar. It was full of people having a good time. Everyone seemed to know each other. And I was struck with the realization that never in my life had I gone out for a meal on my own.

  I’d always been with Matt, and if it wasn’t Matt, it was the girls at the country club.

  Never alone.

  Not in high school, not when I was single, not as a married woman. Never.

  In fact, I was one of those people who watched people dining alone with curiosity. The girls and I would smirk and judge them for being on their own. At least if it was a woman.
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  No friends?

  No man?

  How pathetic.

  I felt guilty now for ever having been so shallow.

  Even at the time, I knew it was wrong. And deep inside, I’d always been envious of their courage, their freedom, their independence. It took a certain confidence for a woman to sit in a restaurant alone and I’d admired it.

  I took a deep breath, pulled my shoulders back and walked in the brewery. It was busier than I expected for so late on a weekday night. Everyone seemed to be talking to each other, I was clearly in the local’s spot. All the tables were full, so I reluctantly grabbed a seat at the bar. I hooked my purse under the counter and wedged it between my legs to keep the money safe.

  Fifteen grand, under the bar of some brewery I’d never been to before. What was I thinking?

  I glanced up, and what I saw made me feel like I just had the wind knocked out of me.

  A large, manly hand gripped the beer tap and my jaw dropped as my eyes slowly followed up the arm.

  It was smooth, perfectly tanned, perfectly toned, and lead to the shoulders and face of quite possibly the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my entire life.

  Let’s just say, this bartender was HOT.

  There was no other way to describe him.

  He wasn’t even my type.

  He was a total surfer dude, but My God, what a surfer dude.

  He smiled, put a menu in front of me, and asked what I’d like to drink. Caught in a state of complete and utter awe, I was dumbstruck. I tried to look as cool as possible as my cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs, knocking my purse off its hook.

  “Eh,” I stammered, getting off my stool to pick up the purse, “eh.”

  “Eh?”

  “Eh, I’ll have a beer,” I blurted out.

  “You’ll have to be a little more specific than that, we’ve got over sixty beers on tap,” he chuckled.

  Sixty! Goodness. How was I ever going to get through this? I don’t think I could have even spelled my own name in that moment.

  “Oh, right, um, nothing too hoppy, I like a lighter beer,” I stammered, struggling to form a whole sentence.

  “We have a brand new one on tap you might like,” he said. “It’s smooth as silk.”

  “Smooth as silk?”

  He gave me a wink and I felt my stomach do a summersault. He talked some more about the beer but truth be told, I didn’t hear a single word of it. I’d have drank gasoline if he winked at me again and said it was good.

  I was looking directly at him, nodding my head in response to his words, but all I was thinking was what he’d look like without that tight black t-shirt on. It fit him so perfectly and I could see the definition of his pecs. I loved the way the short sleeves were riding up his biceps.

  He stopped talking, waiting to see if I was interested in trying the new beer.

  “Yeah, that sounds delicious, ” I said.

  He left to get my drink and I looked around at my surroundings for the first time. I glanced down the counter and quickly realized my waiter wasn’t even the sexiest man in there. The bar was long and full of men that seemed to get sexier and sexier. I was in shock. I had stumbled upon some sort of sexy man heaven.

  I was finally beginning to realize I’d been selling myself short all these years, letting myself stay cooped up in Matt’s house, waiting for him to come home, while he was out having fun, cheating on me. The world suddenly seemed full of opportunity.

  The men in this town were like nothing I’d ever seen before.

  I was used to being around Matt’s stuffy, arrogant friends. They only ever wore suits or blazers and talked about nothing but money, investments, and business.

  I was pretty sure these men would burst out laughing if Matt and his friends walked in and tried to act like big shots. These guys were so casual, jeans, t-shirts, some had buzz cuts, and others had long, messy beach hair. Long messy beach hair that I wanted to run my fingers through and pull on.

  This was the exact opposite of the world I’d just escaped from, and I liked it.

  The sexiest part about the men here, other than their perfectly toned bodies and sun kissed skin, was the way they were all joking and laughing with each other. It was so attractive, their smiles were contagious. I watched them while trying not to be obvious.

  At the end of the bar sat the sexiest one of them all, but he wasn’t joining in the fun. He intrigued me and looked strangely familiar. He had messy, chin length blond hair and a short scruffy blonde beard to match. He was clearly a part of the group, but was keeping to himself. I hadn’t seen him smile once.

  “Here you go, sweetie,” my bartender said as he put my beer in front of me. “Ready to order?”

  I’d been so distracted by the row of surfer babes I hadn’t even opened the menu. I quickly picked it up.

  “Shoot, sorry. I haven’t even looked yet.”

  “No problem. I’ll give you a few more minutes,” he said and smiled.

  It was a smile so dreamy it made me melt inside. A wave of goosebumps rushed over me.

  I hadn’t felt this way in so long and wasn’t sure how to react. I’d been so used to being oppressed, cheated on, to feeling ugly and unwanted, and now I was surrounded by dozens of the most gorgeous men imaginable. Every desire I thought I’d lost came rushing back with a vengeance.

  I had to uncross and recross my legs to control the urges that were beginning to wake up inside me.

  I shook myself out of my daze and opened the menu. I couldn’t concentrate on the food. I lifted my eyes back up and focused on the quiet guy at the end of the bar.

  My panties felt like they were melting from the heat between my thighs.

  Jax Teller. He looked exactly like Jax from Sons of Anarchy. I knew he looked familiar. Sexy, sexy Jax. My guilty pleasure. I’d pictured that man’s face more times than I care to admit while playing with my vibrator.

  What can I say? I was a bored housewife. I tick all the stereotype boxes.

  CHAPTER 5

  KANE

  Diary Entry

  I’m a master at making you cum, but what about making me cum?

  All I have to do is look at you, smile slightly, give you the nod. You know what I want the second you set eyes on me. I’m not subtle.

  When I look at you, I make sure you know what I’m thinking.

  I make sure you know I’m undressing you with my eyes. Imagining what your tits look like underneath that shirt. Imagining what your nipples will feel like, squeezed tight between my finger and thumb. Imagining what your ass looks like without those jeans covering it, what it looks like red from being spanked hard by my hand. Imagining what your pussy looks like, wrapped tightly around my cock.

  You know what I’d like to see? My cum dripping out of your pussy. Just a little. Most of it stays inside you. But just a little drips out, running down the inside of your thigh. That really makes me hard.

  When I look at your mouth, I imagine you moaning. I imagine you screaming my name. I imagine you gasping for breath as you ride up and down on my hard shaft like a cowgirl at a rodeo. I imagine those lips covering every part of my body.

  Just by looking at you I can tell you’re a good kisser. You’d kiss my mouth like your life depended on it. You’d press those lips against mine and take my tongue in your mouth. You’d breathe into my mouth so we’re practically sharing the same breath.

  What would that mouth feel like on my neck? On my chest, teasing my nipples? On my cock?

  Because you know that’s what all this is about. The moment you set eyes on me across the bar, you know that the one thing I want most in the world is for your mouth to touch my cock. I want your lips on my tip, kissing me, teasing me, toying with my head. I want you to open your lips, just a little, so your tongue can wet my tip. The moment your saliva wets my cock, I know this is for real. I know we’re going all the way.

  And I know you want it. You’ve wanted it since the moment y
ou stepped in here.

  What kind of woman steps into a bar alone and doesn’t want cock? You want me right in your mouth, right in the back of your throat. You want to own my pleasure. You want to be the one and only girl who can make me feel this good.

  Picture it. Picture me. I’m hard. My shaft is rigid. I’m bigger than any cock you’ve ever seen before. And I’m right in front of your face.

  You reach up and grab my butt so you can pull me closer. You give me a nudge and my tip is pressed against your lips. You kiss it and pull me forward again. Again my tip touches your lips. You let it touch your cheek. You let it roll around on your face, because you know your sweet face drives me wild. It drives me wild because of how pretty you are, and because of the nasty, naughty, dirty part of my mind that’s looking at your face now and my big cock right in front of it.

  You know what I’m imagining. You know exactly how to tease me. You know I want to cum on your face. What if my cum was all over those delicious lips? What if I was pouring myself all over that beautiful mouth? What if I was cumming inside her mouth?

  You know that’s what I’m thinking, and you’re purposefully playing with that thought in my mind, making me imagine it. And only when I’ve already thought about pouring my entire load into your mouth, do you finally open your mouth and let me inside. Only then do you finally let my shaft slide into your wet, warm, delectable mouth.

  I slide in and out, and expertly your tongue plays with the underside of my shaft. You know that’s where I’m most sensitive. You know that’s the part that will make me cum fastest. And that’s what you want. You want me to explode in your mouth before I’ve even had a chance to think about what’s going on.

  You want to overwhelm me. You want to own my body, own my pleasure, own my cock. And you want to own my mind too. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. The sly look you give me across the bar. The way you cross and recross your legs. The way you lean forward, giving me just a tiny peek at your cleavage.

  Are you even wearing a bra?

  Oh you naughty girl.

  I want to feel your tongue sliding back and forth on my shaft faster and faster. Toying with me. Playing with my tip. Coaxing me to climax, so that when I finally explode, you know I’ll never forget this moment. I’ll never forget the feeling of orgasming in your mouth. I’ll never forget the pleasure you’re giving me right this second. The pleasure you own completely. The pleasure you control completely.