The Surrogate Ch. 13

I woke when she rolled out of bed. I followed her, still as captivated by her postpartum body as I had been when I brought her home from delivering. I thought the thickness, the lack of a waist, which she complained about pretty much continuously, was much sexier than any trim young wasp-waisted thing. She was a woman, not a girl, with a woman's body and I loved it. I loved the way her ass was two distinct rounded sets of muscles kind of lost in the big dimples of her matron's body. I loved the incipient cellulite dimples on her thighs. I adored those soft pads that were starting to show on the backs of her upper arms.

When she sat to do her morning business I kissed her.

"Pervert," she said in what was becoming our morning ritual.

"Just taking care of what is mine," I said, wiping her carefully and helping her stand.

We brushed our teeth side by side, smiling.

"Take me to bed," she said.

"And feed you?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes theatrically.

"No, Baby, you know what I need," she said.

"And you'll get it in," and I made a production out of looking at my Fitbit watch, "a little over six hours."

"Baby," she said, closing the distance between us and molding her body to mine, "it'll be okay. I know my body. This ain't my first rodeo."

"But it is mine," I said, repeating what I had said before, "and it's doctors orders. Now to bed with you, insatiable wench, while I make breakfast."

She pouted very prettily, but she climbed up into bed, I thought putting more wiggle into her ass than was strictly necessary, giving me a beautiful view of those softly dangling, flopping lips.

DAMN, I wanted her.

Instead, I made breakfast. French toast this morning, swimming in butter and Pearl Milling syrup, what used to be Aunt Jemima's, sausage patties, and orange juice.

She was still pouting when I carried the tray up, but she wasn't very convincing because she smiled when she saw what I had on the tray. My Nancy does like her French Toast.

I helped her sit, adjusted the pillows so she was almost sitting up, and then fed her.

I took my time, catching one bite for every two or three of hers, offering the sausage or juice in turns, and wiping her lips between each bite.

Her eyes were closed for much of her breakfast. I liked giving her this special little joy.

When we had eaten it all, and finished the orange juice, I took the tray to the kitchen and took a few minutes to clean up.

Back in the bedroom to check on my bride she struck a pose, one of those classic "pinup picture" poses. She was lying on her left side, her head propped in her palm, her left leg straight, her toes pointed, her right leg bent at the hip, almost 90 degrees, and her knee bent so her right foot laid on her left knee.

She gave her head a shake, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and blew me a kiss.

I looked.

Jesus, I was hard almost instantly. She looked so inviting there, from her pointed toes to her thick hair and all points in between, Those heavy inner lips laid against her thigh and peeked out the way she was posed.

I took a deep breath, and said, "Four hours and eighteen minutes."

"Auuugghh," she said and reached for the phone on the bedside table.

I watched, curious, as she did something with her fingers and held the phone to her ear.

She touched a spot on the screen and laid the phone on the bed.

"Richardson Medical Clinic, Martha speaking. How may I help you?" a voice I recognized said.

"Hey, Martha, Nancy here, can you put Dr. Jim on please?" Nancy asked.

She smiled at me. Well, more like she smirked at me.

"Let me find him," Martha said, and atrocious hold music started playing from the phone.

I said nothing.

"Is everything okay, Nancy," Dr. Jim's baritone voice came through clearly.

"No," Nancy said.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said, " Can you get here okay or do I need to send an ambulance?"

She giggled.

"I'm HORNY," she said, "Please tell my oh-so-uptight husband it's okay to fuck my brains loose."

I could hear his laugh.

A pause.

"Let me check your chart, Nancy," he said.

A pause.

"You'll be good to go in four hours and fifteen minutes," he said, "but since it's you and I know you're healthy and there's not much chance of messing up the implant, I'll round that down to four hours, even."

"Bastard," she said, but she was giggling.

"Bye now, Sweety," he said, "I have a lady with her feet in the stirrups who may need your services."

And the line went dead.

"Well, fuck," she said, flopping onto her back, legs parted.

"Are you sure I can't interest you?" she said.

I took a deep breath and said, "No."

She sighed, dramatically, and said, "Read to me, then."

So it was back to seeing how things were going with Frodo and Samwise and Merry and Pippin and the rest of the Fellowship as they moved from danger to danger.

I made her a fried egg sandwich for lunch with a handful of potato chips and a Coke.

After I wiped her lips with a napkin and wiped her pussy after she peed, she laid back and said, "Go ahead, Baby, work on that paper. I'll take a little nap but I expect you to wake me in," and she glanced at the clock on the headboard, "two hours and thirteen minutes."

I laughed, kissed her, said, "I can't wait," and opened my Chromebook again.

But I didn't work on the paper. Instead, I googled "what to expect when you're expecting," a phrase I read somewhere and thought was appropriate here. I learned a lot but, mostly, I learned exactly what Dr. Jim had told me. No two pregnancies are alike. The same woman can breeze through the first one and then spend almost nine months on her knees in front of the toilet for the second one and a third will be as easy as the first or as difficult as the second. Cravings are a real thing. Mood swings are a real thing.

As near as I could figure out, about the only thing that WAS the same in every pregnancy was that the woman had a human being growing in her and that took up room, Frequent urination, constipation, heartburn, and the rest of the common gastrointestinal problems would, as sure as the sun rises, be there.

At exactly, well, as close as exactly as I could manage, to 48 hours after I had laid her in the bed I took off my clothes and crawled in with her.

I loved that, for all of the bitching she had done about needing to wait for two full days, she was snoring softly as I crawled in with her.

I propped my chin in my palm and just watched her sleep. She was on her back. As she slept she had managed to push the covers down so that her left breast, the one on the other side of her body from me, was exposed. I studied it as she slept, thinking how much sexier, how much more feminine, how much more perfectly female her breasts were than some girl's perky titties.

I had promised to wake her, so I lightly brushed the line of her pubic hair, barely tickling.

She didn't open her eyes.

"You'd better put something in there pretty quick or I'm going out on the prowl," she said.

I moved around and worked my knees between hers.

"Nuh-uh," she said, "you made me wait, now get that well-educated mouth working."

"Oh, no, Br'er Fox," I said, grinning as I started bending down, "not the briar patch."

"Don' you be tryin' none o' dem fancy college tricks o' your'n on li'l ol' me, Br'er Rabbit," she said, giggling.

I caught those dangling lips in my mouth and started sucking gently.

She kept giggling.

"That's right, get down in there," she said, laughing as I suckled at her inner lips, feeling them swell in my mouth.

I felt her taste change slightly as the tension in her body started building.

I wrapped my arms around her thighs and began lightly caressing her belly, just above the roundness of her pubic mound where the skin was so soft, oddly wrinkled with very deep stretch marks. I gave that soft little pouch a firm squeeze, making her squeal.

I knew in my mind that there was no possibility that I could feel anything, but knowing there was a baby growing in there got to me.

My tongue probed and my lips sucked.

I began bobbing my head, holding those loose lips in my mouth, masturbating her with my mouth.

And it worked, and worked spectacularly.

When she came, my mouth was filled with her nectar far too fast for me to swallow. She grunted and came and grunted and came and grunted and came in waves. I let my mouth overflow and felt it running down my chin and still I kept up, sucking gently, moving my head in little bobbing motions, and she kept going too.

With a final grunt and push, I felt her finish and relax.

But I kept holding her in my mouth, sucking gently, and swallowing her pleasure.

The hormones changed her taste just a little and as I sucked, nursing at her pussy, noisily swallowing, I had one of those non sequitur thoughts that my weird mind popped up with from time to time. I realized that the subtle change in her pheromones was bringing out the more, well, the more "protective" side of me. My male was responding to a pregnant female and my need to make sure she stayed safe joined my need to give and receive sexual gratification.

I kept sucking gently until I felt her total relaxation and realized she had drifted off to sleep.

When I leaned back and looked, it was pretty spectacular. Her inner lips were swollen and hung down the crack of her ass, still leaking her natural lubricants that formed a white puddle that was spreading under her.

She was beautiful.

I crawled up, propped my chin on my elbow, and just watched her sleep.

"My beautiful Earth Mother," I thought, "My perfect fertility Goddess."

"Every pregnancy is different," Dr. Jim had said.

"Every pregnancy is different," Nancy had said.

"Every pregnancy is different," pretty much everything I had read lately had said.

As I watched her sleep I thought, "I can't wait to see what this pregnancy is like."