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Archive name: deside.txt (M+/F, wife, preg)
Authors name: Meiraj (meiraj@sify.com)
Story title : Decisions

--------------------------------------------------------
AN ADULT STORY, TO BE READ BY ADULTS AT LEAST 21 YEARS 
OF AGE. This story may not be reproduced in any form for 
profit. This story may be freely distributed for 
personal use with this notice attached. All characters 
and events depicted in this story are purely fiction. 
There is no Intention in any manner to represent or 
mimic, any real world situations or persons.
--------------------------------------------------------

DECISIONS! (M+/F, wife, preg)
By Meiraj@sify.com


CHAPTER 1: BAD NEWS KINDLES AN IDEA

It all began when the doctor revealed that I was the 
problem why my wife wasn't getting pregnant. "You don't 
have enough sperm and what little there is just too 
weak" the doctor said in a professional tone as my wife 
and I heard the disastrous news. He then discussed the 
various options available to us, such as using donor 
semen, in-vitriol conception, adoption etc., The in-
vitriol or in-the-dish conception was too expensive, I 
did not like the idea of donor semen, god knows whose it 
is and what the child might look like. Adoption would 
involve two years or more of waiting and that would be 
somebody's child not our own. 

"Nicole is devastated at the news, but she says she 
still loves me, and doesn't blame me. We only have to 
wait a year or two until we can get the money to use an 
alternative fertilization method." I told my mother 
after appraising the situation to her. She wanted a 
grandchild very badly. It was her goading that had made 
us try to have a child. 

We talked about it again after a few days. Mother said 
she had came up with an idea that wouldn't cost us 
anything and that the child would look like me. She 
quickly caught my attention, because I wanted the child 
to look like a blend of my dear wife and me. That would 
be impossible if we used some stranger donor's semen.

"I know you and he don't get along well. You should put 
that behind you now. You are in need of semen of high 
sperm count, and your brother is big, strong and 
athletic. Why not let him be the sperm donor to your 
wife?" asked my mother.

I was speechless upon hearing mother's thoughts. "Y-You 
c-can't be serious! You-You know how I despise him. Th-
The way he-he used to treat me in high school. Th-The 
things he used to say about me. Plus, he-he was always 
your favorite anyway. "That m-must be why y-you're 
suggesting that. H-He's ..."  

"I know, I know, ... You've said it before. But that was 
long ago. You're the brainy one now and I am proud of 
you -- the college professor. Just think about what I am 
proposing. Just mull it over, consider it. Isn't what 
I'm suggesting logical? Think how strong and beautiful 
your child will be! It'll all be in the family, and your 
wife can be in the family way in no time. But of course 
we will have to get Nick to accept the idea."

As I collected my thoughts, I had to admit mother was 
right. Her idea was a perfect solution except for the 
fact that I hated my older brother Nick. He was athletic 
but egotistical and always downgraded me because I was 
not into sports and other 'manly stuff' as he called it. 
He also made fun of me for not being forward with the 
girls. He was a charmer with the chicks.

When mother gets an idea there is no talking her out. So 
hoping to let her drop it in stages I said I would think 
about it and that Nicole and I would have to discuss and 
consider alternatives and options in the coming days. 

I was sure Nicole would never go along with having Nick 
donate his semen for her to be impregnated with. She had 
met Nick only a few times and what she knew about him 
was from me. I knew she would not entertain mother's 
crazy idea. She was a perfect wife -- every inch, each 
ounce. I didn't want to even mention the idea for fear 
that her sensibility would be outraged.

Nonetheless, as husbands often do, later that night, I 
opened my mouth and put my foot in it. We were in bed 
having a pillow talk. Nicole was holding my penis and 
playing with it in its usual semi inflated state at that 
time of the night. 

I could not help but report to her the conversation I 
had with mother - Mother's ridiculous idea of asking 
Nick to donate his semen. Wanting her to be strongly 
opposed to her mother-in-law's idea, I said it was 
something we should think about, casually mentioning 
that he and I had never gotten along. She had on several 
occasions heard me describe him as having been a prick 
and a bully to me. 

She became fidgety as she always does when she becomes 
fuming angry towards her mother-in-law but never shows 
it as my mother and I have a close relationship. 
Reassuringly she continued to make play-dough of my 
penis, which I enjoy very much. She said she would 
handle mother if she ever brought it up again, gave me a 
good night kiss, and turned the other way and dozed off 
to sleep. I knew she was capable of handling mother 
gently but firmly. With that thought I fell off to sleep 
but not before feeling that perhaps I should never have 
brought up the subject at all. 

She must have thought about it all next day. For as soon 
as we hit the bed, she opened the topic, "After all he 
is family and we wouldn't have to wait any longer to 
start a family. You know how bad I want to be a mother." 
I was shocked and just looked at her with bewildered 
eyes. She continued, "I know you two guys are opposite 
of each other, you are an academic scholar and he is a 
sports jock and a bully to you. You're steady and solid 
and he is fleeting and a loose canon. But just 
theoretically speaking don't you think something like 
this might bring you two closer, and help him settle 
down in life?" There was innocence in her big eyes and 
her genuine concern to bring the two brothers together. 

`Highly unlikely' I tersely replied. There was an 
obvious quiver in my voice. I do not want to see him or 
his virile semen couriered in cold icepack or hot in a 
thermos. And I don't want it especially anywhere near my 
wife.

"That's what I think too," she said. "Besides I do not 
believe in making a baby by pouring seeds from a test 
tube; a human baby must be a product of the passionate 
union of a man and a woman, both in the throes of an 
emotional arousal with hearts pulsating," she said 
smiling, ostensibly to calm me, by giving it a new 
slant. 

What she said served its purpose. I calmed down quick 
and extended her humor line, "Yes, with heavy breathing, 
and breast against breast, thighs within thighs, pestle 
pounding the pea" I added laughing. We laughed for our 
jokes and kissed and laughed again. We were in the same 
wavelength, in perfect agreement. I felt much relieved 
that the idea of semen transplantation had met its 
inevitable death. 


CHAPTER 2: A MOTHER'S HELP

I was wrong. In the next two weeks I got extra busy at 
work as I was teaching an intense two week short course 
in addition to my usual schedule. Nicole mentioned 
receiving luncheon invitation from mother. I think she 
went out twice. I knew she was handling mother in her 
own way. She also mentioned my sister dropping in once 
or twice. I thought it was odd because Sis had done that 
were rarely. 

I was conscientious in my work, and worked long hours. 
Nonetheless, a hard working man is also a man, and has 
manly needs. Besides I had many pretty coeds in my 
evening classes. Naturally I'd be quite horny when I 
came home. I wanted to make love to my beautiful petite 
wife. 

But we started beginning and ending with her playing 
play-dough with my staff, bending it this way, that way, 
folding it in half, squeezing, pummeling. She gave love 
smacks, thwacks, whacks, and wallops. My manhood enjoyed 
her handling it like that. She was sweet and at her 
utmost womanly tenderness when she did that, cooing and 
mooing and making all kinds of silly noises like with 
biting, chewing, gnawing, nibbling, hissing and kissing. 
But that sort of play-doughing can't be done if the 
penis is fully erect. 

So, I had developed the knack of keeping it pliable by 
mentally reciting 'Hail Mary' and 'Our Father'. They 
were probably wrong mantras, but they worked for me. 

That my mother's idea was not totally dead came to me on 
one such night when she started to play-dough me, but 
she stopped midway, to go get some pictures of a kid - 
shots from different angles. They were computer pictures 
of face only. The kid looked about 2-3 years old, kind 
of cute. Couldn't tell boy or girl. She asked what I 
thought of the kid, who did the kid resemble, was I 
reminded of any kind I knew. 

I scratched my head and it came to me suddenly, "Hey, 
you've gotten my childhood picture computer enhanced. I 
look cute, and attractive don't I?" I said.

She was smiling. "Could it be my childhood picture?" she 
asked sounding mischievous. Puzzled, I looked at her and 
I looked at the pictures again. "Yes, could be, yes, 
from some angles it does look like you. Where were you 
hiding this, I think I have seen all your childhood 
pictures," I said. 

"Look again," she said, "Could it be a blend of you and 
me, computer wizardry?"

I was flabbergasted. I looked at her, I looked at the 
pictures, I remembered my pictures of when I was 2 or 3. 
"Yes, it is a blend of you and me. Definitely so. 
Wouldn't it be nice if our child looked like that," I 
said. 

"Your sister has gotten it done somewhere. She brought 
it over this afternoon. She said, if Nick made me 
pregnant, that is what the child will look like! She has 
gotten my face and Nick's face blended." 

Needless to say I was floored to my bones. My penis 
shrank to its smallest. She had continued to play with 
it off and on with one hand while we were looking at the 
pictures. She must have seen my utter distress and the 
sweat that was forming on my forehead. She slid down 
into the bed and hugged me in a reassuring way. "Honey, 
relax. You know I am not that kind of a woman. I 
wouldn't go to Nick just to have a baby, not behind your 
back. You know, your sister is just as crazy as your 
mother!"

We hugged tight and kissed hard with all the passion we 
felt for each other. I made love to her. I had not 
fucked her in two weeks or more. My pecker had 
surprisingly stayed hard for the necessary duration. I 
pumped her like there was no tomorrow. I peaked first as 
usual, and she peaked right behind me. I could tell she 
was satisfied, or pretty close to it. I was satisfied 
that she was satisfied. We fell asleep in each other's 
arms. 

I woke up sometime in the early hours of the morning. I 
was wide-awake. I could not help my mind looking back 
with deep satisfaction the lovemaking scenario I had 
just gone through a few hours earlier. I could feel a 
smile on my face. The words she had uttered also played 
back, "I am not that kind of a woman. I wouldn't go to 
Nick just to have a baby, not behind your back."

What did she mean by 'not behind my back?' Why had she 
called him Nick, as if she was familiar with him, 
whereas it was always 'your brother Nick.' Why had she 
said 'not go to Nick just to have a baby,' what else 
would she want to have in addition? Doubts, doubts, 
doubts. I could not sleep the rest of the night. The 
sound of the alarm clock was sweet. I was huffy at 
breakfast, hardly ate any. I could sense Nicole feeling 
I was behaving weird, especially after great sex. I was 
angry with myself for all the weird thoughts that had 
come to me at night. I knew my feelings were at odds 
with those of Nicole. After great sex she always felt 
happy and gay like a butterfly.

Later in the morning I phoned home and apologized for my 
mood in the morning. She said she could understand my 
drained out mood and in turn apologized for milking me 
dry. Yes, her pussy had a way of squeezing out every 
drop of juice in my manhood. I could not tell her that 
it was my doubts and lack of sleep that had left me 
feeling as I did. Anyway for the next 2-3 days we did 
not have many interactions. I came home late after 
normal bedtime for her or she came late from her girls' 
night out after I had fallen asleep.

It was Friday when we went to bed together and in good 
mood. I wanted her to play-dough me. We were exchanging 
notes about mundane events of the day as we lay 
together. I interjected, "Your play-dough is ready," as 
I drew her close to me. "I will do that for you if you 
promise to suck my pussy," she said. She put her hand 
where it should have already been, and added, "you 
better become a good pussy sucker." She kissed me 
thrusting her tongue into my dazed mouth, swirling it 
left and right, up and down, touching the tip of my 
tongue and swirling it round and round: sealing our lips 
to lips, she sucked hard like a vacuum, making my cheeks 
cave in. Obviously those were instructions on how to 
suck her pussy. I had not been much of a pussy eater, 
had been clumsy, and could only eat pussy on a single 
breath having to surface up frequently for air. 

She didn't like such sucker-interrupts. So we had 
practically given up oral sex, except for special 
occasions. So, her new demand, with instructions on how 
to, baffled me. I couldn't figure out what the special 
occasion was for which she wanted me to lick her pussy 
and tickle her clit with my tongue. But I knew it had to 
be a special occasion for her, to want me to do so even 
if I was not too competent at it. To add to my 
puzzlement she transformed her leisurely handwork on me 
to quick and vigorous long strokes and jerked me off 
quick, in spite of my protesting moans, groans, grunts, 
and whimpers. I surmised that she was in a hurry to get 
to her turn. Before I could wipe myself off she 
commanded with earnestness in her voice, "Quick, put 
your kisser on Rascal Nicole's cunt!" 

Realizing her need, I did the best I could, and she had 
a rousing orgasm. 

Nicole reserved pussy eating and lewd language for 
special occasions like a birthday or an anniversary or a 
special night out on the town. Decision to buy our home, 
decision to buy a car, decision to go on a summer 
holiday and such other decisions were also celebrated by 
such pussy work and lewd sexy language. 

On such occasions she would dispense with romantic 
lovemaking. She would use words like fuck prick, cunt, 
kisser, bugger, and such other words were use. She would 
just sit on my face and rub her pussy all over my face, 
plug my nose to it and eventually get my tongue in. 
Sometimes she would want the tip of my tongue to tickle 
her anus. On such occasions she called herself as 
"Rascal Nicole." 

After her rousing orgasm she fell into sleep like a 
lamb. With all the taste of her in my mouth and her 
juices drying on spots on my face, I had a throbbing 
hard on which I did not want. I wanted to think. But the 
musky taste and smell and the throbbing in my prick were 
robbing the clarity of my thinking. The throbbing was 
completely out of place, especially because she had just 
jerked me off. After much tossing and turning and 
telling myself that whatever the special occasion was 
would eventually become known, I slipped off to sleep.

A couple of days later while we were mutually 
comfortably positioned in bed, she complemented me on 
the pussy sucking job I had done a couple of nights ago. 
She said she was fortunate to have a husband like me who 
knew how to please his wife. She said she was conferring 
the honor of sucking her pussy exclusively on me, and 
never let anyone else do it, even if she were ever to 
take a lover.

Boldly I asked, "Why, are you thinking of taking a 
lover?" She looked at me like I had grossly offended her 
and replied curtly, "Is the Queen of England a 
Catholic?" We both laughed and tickled each other before 
falling asleep. Between tickles and giggles she said she 
would never make me suck out sloppy seconds as they do 
in some ASSTR stories. It was thus quite by accident 
that it slipped out of her that she had been reading the 
naughty stories in the ASSTR collections. I could only 
hope that her favorite collection was not the same as 
mine. And I don't know why I like the CDE collection and 
the like. 

Between giggles she had also made me promise that I 
would kiss and suck her pussy and give a tongue massage 
to her clit whenever she opened her thighs wide, day or 
night, in bed or not. Her opening the thighs wide would 
be the signal, no words, and no language. It amazes me 
to no end how husbands get trained to do things for 
wives based on subtle signals such as a look, a smile, 
and a finger movement. No wonder we are referred to as 
'stupid husbands', and I am a living proof myself.

Anyway, following the night of giggles and promises, I 
was wide-awake early in the morning. My mind was clear. 
It dawned on me that the special occasion night of a 
couple of days ago was to mark an important decision she 
had made - to explore the idea that my sister had put in 
her head. This became apparent to me much later. It was 
also later that I realized that having made a decision, 
she went about things methodically, objectively and step 
by step. I have always felt pride about her systematic 
and organized approach to things and tasks.

*

Two or three weeks went by without anything special to 
report except that I would find her thighs wide open 
sometimes in the middle of the night and sometimes early 
in the morning upon her return from the bathroom after 
emptying her bladder. And I put my mouth to work and 
kept my husband's word (and work) of honor. She was full 
of joy and full of love for me. 

She cooked all my favorite dishes and mended all my torn 
socks, sending me off to work with kisses and hugs and 
welcomed me home in the same way. She also jerked me off 
tenderly, and with lots of sweet kissing and cooing, 
taking her time to play-dough me enough to make me rise 
to the occasion. But my work pressures kept me from 
rising to the occasion every time, although in my mind I 
was always risen.

It was a Wednesday night and a transformer went out at 
school causing the building where I taught to lose 
power. Class was excused three hours early. 

Thank goodness for small favors I thought as I drove 
home. Not having been by to see mother in a while, I 
decided to surprise her and stop by for a bit before 
going home and surprising Nicole too, by coming home at 
a decent hour.

As I turned the corner to mom's house, and noticed a 
couple of cars in the driveway along side my mother's. 
Obviously mother was having her bridge club or some 
visitors. I debated whether to stop or drive on. I 
thought I would just say hi and bye even if she had 
visitors. I rang the doorbell but was surprised when my 
sister opened it. Mother was right behind her. 

They just stood there looking at me, like they had not 
seen me for a long, long time. Mother finally asked 
"what brings you to my neck of the woods son? I would 
love to ask you to come in, but I have some house 
guests," and she gestured upstairs. My sister made 
sounds of agreement. Adding she said, "Nicole phoned 
here for you, she said she had called your office too 
but you were not there."

I couldn't help thinking of Nicole needing me with her 
thighs wide open. When a woman needs it, she needs it in 
a hurry. The pulse quickened in me. I said, "OK, bye, I 
am on my way." I quickly got in my car and tore off 
towards home. 

After I had driven perhaps 20 minutes and close to home, 
I recalled that Mother's TV had been on and on high 
volume. I also recalled that one of the cars on her 
driveway had looked familiar. The more I strained my 
memory to recall what I had seen, the more it looked 
like Nicole's car. It couldn't have been, I told myself. 
Why would she call there looking for me, and be there at 
the same time? It did not make any logical sense. I was 
already close to home and I didn't feel like driving all 
the way back there just to check out some devil of a 
mind's doubts.

When I went home, all there was a scribbled note from 
Nicole. "Honey, I have some out of state friends in town 
and I may be going to a ball game with them and to a 
dinner and what not. I may be late. Don't wait up for 
me. There's food to microwave. I have also kept a couple 
of beers in the frig. I think there is baseball on TV 
tonight; may be you can bring your bat out and pretend 
play. I love you darling." 

Accordingly I warmed the food and sat down with it in 
front of the TV to watch the ball game. My team was 
hitting and hitting hard. On the victorious final ball I 
took out my bat and trashed hard and fast just as Nicole 
had wanted me, celebrating my team's victory to the roar 
of the crowd.

I must have dozed off on the sofa. When I woke up in the 
wee hours, the TV was going zigzag. Obviously Nicole was 
not home yet or else she would have turned the TV off 
and covered me with a blanket. I became wide awake and 
my sister's face came to mind, her face, as I was 
leaving mother's house, to hurry home to Nicole. 

The face had a smirk on it. I was not sure if I was 
imagining it, or my storehouse of memory was putting it 
out now with much clarity. Could it be that my mother 
and sister were in conspiracy and that Nicole was also 
right there upstairs? And with Nick? What could they 
have been doing? Why were mother and sister in such 
great hurry to get rid of me? Why was the TV volume so 
loud? I remembered mother's upstairs floor creaked! 

Yes, the higher volume of the TV was to hide the 
creaking upstairs. I guess I am a bit like that 
detective character Columbo. It felt good that I had 
begun to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Or, had 
I? Was the puzzle just in my imagination? I remembered 
having read somewhere that a suspicious man is an 
inadequate man. But I am an adequate man. So I told 
myself that I should not give in to suspicious thoughts. 
I must have fallen off into slumber again. 


CHAPTER 3: PRODUCTIVE HOMEWORK

I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee. Nicole makes 
the best bacon and the best coffee. At breakfast I asked 
Nicole how her evening out was, and she chirped happily 
that it was great fun and that she would tell me all 
about it when I had some time. As I was leaving for work 
she asked if I could come home early, as she wanted to 
discuss a few things she had been working at. My 
curiosity went up and I promised to be home early. Good 
thing I did not have any late afternoon or evening 
classes to teach that day.

I did get home early. And the dinner was my favorite 
dish. Nicole is a fantastic cook when she has the time. 
After dinner and dishes we settled down on the chaise in 
the living room with our favorite wine. We had had some 
jovial banter during dinner remembering some old times. 
She seemed to want to hang on to that mood. Obviously 
she had some misgivings on the discussion she wanted. I 
was curious but also had a vague gnawing fear. I took 
the initiative and ventured, "Well you wanted me home 
early and here I am. What did you want to discuss, 
shoot," I quipped.

She seemed glad I opened the agenda. She preambled, 
"Francis honey, promise to be quiet and hear me out. I 
will lay it out completely and honestly before you. Then 
we have choices to make. I will always love you no 
matter what choice you make. You know that I have been 
looking forward to having a baby, to hold, to cuddle, to 
nurture. I want to feel what it is like to be a mother, 
what is to be making a child in my womb, to feel the 
child kicking and turning in my tummy. And I know how 
much you want us to have a baby. We have tried and tried 
and have found we can't. And you know it is not my 
fault." 

I was listening intently to what she was saying. It was 
obvious whose fault it was. It was mine, but I did not 
say anything. I know when to keep quiet. She continued, 
"I don't want you to be hurt by this, but you know your 
sperm count is low, very low indeed. It will not be a 
healthy child even if by some fluke I conceive your 
baby. I also believe that a happy human child comes out 
of a passionate sexual intercourse between a man and a 
woman. You know that our sex life has not been that for 
a long time now. You have yourself said that God did not 
make you a well-hung hunk. But I still love you. You are 
a wonderful, kind and caring man, very understanding and 
accommodative to your woman. There aren't many men like 
you. I want to grow old with you. I want you to 
understand that."

I was all ears to what she was saying. What all she had 
said was true. I was nodding my head in agreement, 
giving her positive feedback to continue what she had to 
say. I was thankful she had not mentioned the low volume 
of my juice, its watery thinness, and the rarity of my 
shaft achieving full hardness or its speedy collapse. In 
a way it is nice to put everything on the table in a 
serious discussion. But she had put just the seminal 
points. That sufficed. 

She shifted and repositioned herself on the love seat, 
looked at me to see if it was okay to go on, and 
continued. "Darling, I don't have to tell you that love 
is different from sex, as different as gender is from 
sex. I am a passionate, lusty, all-American girl. I am 
in my bloom, I want sex and I want a baby. Your brother 
Nick is capable of giving me both. And as you know your 
own mother and sister are for it. But as you know that 
has been a distasteful idea for me because I have been a 
one-man woman. What I had heard about Nick had made it 
doubly distasteful to me. I want you to understand 
that." 

She looked at me intently to see if I was with her so 
far, and I was. I conveyed as much by gestures and 
gutturals and especially with my eyes. Yes, a husband's 
eyes can transmit genuine communication, especially of 
love and empathy.

Nicole continued, "A few weeks ago, your mother 
suggested that I at least meet Nick and verify first 
hand, the second hand impressions I have of him. She 
noted that I should be objective, unbiased and trust my 
intuitions. Your mother has her faults but she is a wise 
woman..."

I didn't like the turn her words had taken and tried to 
interject, "But, Nicole, do you mean to." She cut me 
short with a highly disapproving look, "Francis, dear, I 
asked you to listen and hear me out before you say 
anything. Would you? Please let me finish." 

I should have known better than to interrupt my 
systematic and organized wife. So, I took on an 
attentive posture again. For some reason, there was a 
stirring in my loins; I guess an excited anticipation to 
hear the conclusions from her unbiased and objective 
observations of big bully Nick. 

She continued, "So far I have met him four times, the 
first was at your mother's, over a cup of coffee and 
home baked cake. Mother and he talked mostly, on kinds 
of things that you and she talk. I mostly observed him, 
his mannerisms, and tried to assess his underlying 
attitudes and orientations. He came across as a regular 
guy, like any of your colleagues, except that he is a 
big guy with a deep manly voice that the broadcast 
industry would like."

I was beginning to fume, telling myself, 'There he does 
it again, charming the lady with his deep voice.' I knew 
he was a snake and was going to strike. The snake in me 
was also rising, as if to strike him back, venom for 
venom. I controlled my anger to hear more of what she 
had to say. 

Nicole could tell I was not happy at what I was hearing. 
She added reassurance, "I know you're becoming upset. I 
know I have gone and done this investigating behind your 
back, but only to present you with the findings, and for 
us to make some important life decisions. Now let me 
tell you about my second impression of him. I met him 
for lunch at Totollinis. I observed his table manners 
and his choice of the menu. He has become a vegetarian. 
I tried to draw him out on critical issues you and I 
hold dear, like world peace, ecology, music and arts. 
Except in music, his tastes and orientations are similar 
to ours. He likes lifting weights and makes it a point 
to work out regularly. He watches his weight and what he 
eats. He has dabbled a bit in theater, has taken lessons 
in martial arts, and computer imaging. He said that many 
years ago he had written some erotica but did not make 
any attempt to seek publication."

"We sat for a long time, but he was a thorough 
gentleman. He was respectful of me and he expressed 
regret that he had mistreated you and bullied you when 
he was a young brat. He feels very protective towards 
you now and is proud that you surpassed him in 
scholastics and have become a professor. He said he 
would be sending over a superduper laptop for you that 
he no longer needs. I tried to decline on your behalf, 
but he would not listen. It came a couple of days ago 
and I have it in the attic, wanting to give you this 
narration first. Don't you think that's really nice of 
him? It shows he has a caring and sharing nature."

"Did you ask him to make you pregnant?" I shot at her, 
discarding all the biodata she had carefully compiled.

Nicole looked at me with a kind and understanding 
expression. "Oh Francis, you have been traumatized in 
your teens. May be we should explore some sort of 
therapy for you. But I am inclined to think it might 
just suffice if the two of you got together, shook hands 
and gave hugs to each other." 

I wanted to add, "and kisses on the cheeks as they do in 
the middle-east." Instead I ate my words and quickly 
counted to ten backwards. 

She continued with obvious pity in her eyes, "Francis, 
you are jumping to conclusions. I will put it 
categorically, emphatically and definitively - no, he 
did not jump me. Satisfied? Do you think I am a bitch? 
You know I am not that kind of a woman. I want us to 
think together and make some intelligent life-choices. 
We want to be a family. We want a child. I am telling 
you all as it is. Will you please keep your wild 
thoughts on leash? Will you hear me out or shall I 
stop?" 

I felt very much chastised. Her rebuke was justified. I 
had been jumping to conclusions. I told myself I should 
have more trust in my wife, more than in my mother and 
sister. I apologized in a chided voice, "I am sorry 
honey, I guess I have been edgy with all this talk about 
Nick. May be it is my own venom that I have shifted to 
him. Yes, please continue. I promise I will hear you out 
as you wish. Your wish is my command, my queen," I tried 
to inject some humor to make up for the coarse words I 
had uttered.

"That is better. I accept your apologies. Let me 
continue where was I? Yes, for our third meeting I met 
him at his apartment. Now, don't jump to conclusions 
again. I wanted a quiet place to administer some 
personality and psychological tests like the MMPI, the 
Inkblot test and the TAT. I also gave him an 
aggressiveness-assertiveness test to see if he was still 
a bully. He answered them all patiently. And his 
bulliness score was very low, the personality scores 
showed him to be amiable and his thought processes were 
no different than what you would expect in a horny 
single guy." 

She gave a pleased smile and blushed slightly, but 
quickly continued not wanting me to butt into her 
narrative report. "I had earlier taken a quick tour of 
his home. He had it neat, clean and orderly. I did not 
find anything unwholesome or objectionable except stacks 
of Playboy and the like and in his bedroom some posters 
of provocative sex kittens. That is quite understandable 
for a single guy. I looked for any souvenir panty 
collection he may have, but did not find any."

I found an interval to pose a question, "How about his 
psychological test scores? Don't you think it needs an 
expert to interpret them?"

"Yes, I was just about to come to it. I am no expert as 
you rightly pointed out. I had them scored and 
interpreted by my friend in the Psych department without 
revealing the identity of the respondent. I must say the 
tests gave him a positive profile. My amateurish 
interpretation turned out to be OK."

My mind forgot its resolve again and went abuzz. Her 
going to his apartment was not at all right. God knows 
what message it sent him. The two of them, alone in his 
apartment, and he was a gentleman? His crotch must have 
bulged. She must have seen it. Her needs didn't get the 
better of her? She didn't melt into him? Give me a 
break! Just listening to her narrative was putting 
tingles in my crotch. Naturally my thoughts started 
running faster than her words, and my head was getting 
overloaded; I had to have a break. "Nicole, honey, would 
you like a drink, you have been talking a whole lot, you 
must be thirsty," I interjected wanting a break to 
regain my mental composure. 

While I fixed drinks she went to take a leak. I needed 
one too. When I came back she was on her back on the 
sofa, with her thighs wide open and her pussy staring at 
me. She knew where she wanted my stamp of approval. And 
I knew where she wanted me to stick my stamp of 
approval. Also, she must have also figured out my 
thoughts that as a married woman it was not proper for 
her to have gone alone to his apartment. And for this 
she knew she should be whipped and lashed out. By 
opening her thighs wide and with no panty to cover her 
bush, she was telling me where to whack her and at the 
same time where to put my stamp of approval for her 
systematic and methodical research on my brother. 

So, I concurrently made her suffer the punishment and 
obtain the stamp of approval. I was a bit harsh but also 
gentle. After all, she was my wife. So with my lips I 
separated her pussy lips, and spanked her clit from 
every angle, while my mind processed pictures of them 
together in his apartment. She started shuddering and 
quivering due to my spanking pulls, pushes and thrusts. 
Finally I said enough is enough and let her go. When she 
sat up she knew she had gotten what was coming to her. 
My mind had also become calm, having exhausted its work. 

We both sat in silent company of each other, me sipping 
the Vulcan Bull that I had fixed for myself, and she her 
Bloody Mary. Nothing needed to be spoken in this 
companionship. My mind was going over what all had 
surfaced in the course of the evening and also peeking 
at what was yet to surface. Yes, there still was 
trepidation in the back burners of my mind. But a good 
husband hides such apprehension and bides his time. No 
doubt, her mind was formulating the words to say what 
she had not yet said.

She broke the silence sweetly, "Honey bun, I think you 
heard enough for to-day? I am being long winded and 
boring you. Shall we to go to sleep?" she cooed sweetly 
with obvious concern for me. She usually knows when I am 
bored and when I am sleepy. But I was neither bored nor 
sleepy. And she also knows that my professorial mind is 
capable of handling any amount of information overload. 
In semi agreement with her I suggested, "Yes, why don't 
we go up and talk in bed," wanting to be in a more 
intimate position while we talked. Yes, she was being 
long winded. I had no sense where the narration was 
heading. Her furtive glances at me were uncharacteristic 
of her. 

But she was on a role. She wanted to tell me what she 
wanted to tell me. "Yes, in a minute. Before we do that 
let me also tell you that one of the tests I gave him is 
the questionnaire from the Red Book, remember, the one 
we took a few months ago?"

I interjected in disbelief, "You mean the one on sexual 
compatibility and preferred practices? But, but.." The 
degree of discomfort in my voice made her look deep into 
my eyes with reassuring smile. "Darling, it was just to 
put some humor because I was loading him with all kinds 
of serious questionnaires and tests," she said, and 
continued on, "I also wanted to see if he would be 
boastful or truthful; weird or kinky. No he wasn't 
boastful, weird or kinky; if he had, his B, W and K 
scores would have come out ridiculously higher. As a 
matter of fact it was only believably higher than 
yours." She gave me an assuring look and ended the 
sentence with a tone of finality on the issue. 

Quickly changing the subject, she went on to speak about 
the questions she had posed with respect to how he felt 
about children, his philosophy on child rearing, and 
father-child relationship matters and so on. My mind was 
still on the Red Book questionnaire, trying to recall 
the aspects it touched upon, and what she meant by his 
scores on Weird, Kinky and Boast scales being a bit 
higher than mine. I should have asked her to elaborate, 
but the moment had passed. 

She chattered on, "Fran darling, you have to understand 
that if I went to this extent in my research, you must 
know how much I want us to have a baby. I know you have 
some disagreements with your brother. But you have to 
understand that I love you more than you realize. Any 
way, I've now gotten to know your brother better. He 
does have a lot of good qualities now whatever he may 
have been when he was younger. I want you to give him a 
chance, darling." As an after thought she added, "I want 
us all to work out, honey! I am sure you do too." I 
tried to reply but couldn't. I was tongue tied at 
hearing my wife rattling off so matter-of-factly. What 
was there for US ALL to work out?

She got up and pulled me towards the bedroom, "Let's 
talk in bed." I followed obediently. As we were going 
she abruptly said, "I hope you realize what it's like 
for me to be a woman in heat, especially without a stud 
around." She laughed at her own joke. I didn't think it 
was funny, but I had to fake an Unhuh agreement, as 
husbands often do. She continued, "Darling, tell me a 
man thing. Is it true that some men can get their woman 
off two or three times in a night?" 

It was one of those questions to which a husband should 
not answer yes or no. In either case he will end up 
showing in poor light. I was quick to equivocate, "I 
have also heard that in the locker room, may be so in 
exceptional cases." I was glad we reached the bedroom 
and the subject dropped.

Once we were comfortably settled in bed, her hand slid 
down my belly and cupped my balls. Her fingers slowly 
began to examine what they had held. I made appropriate 
gestures of reciprocating her affections. But I was 
itching to hear more of what she had been working at. 
Too many things had gone on behind my back and I wanted 
to know if there was more. 

I wanted her to tell me all while I was enjoying her 
hand was on her usual exploration of my front. In a tone 
that conveyed my approval of her exploring hand I asked, 
"Tell me darling, amidst all your questionnaires and 
questions, did you ask him if he would be willing to 
father your child?" 

Yes, I had put a blunt question. I wanted to know the 
bottom line and where I stood. I wanted to hear the 
answer in the negative. On the back burners of my mind 
was a confident and good feeling that my woman was 
consulting and thinking through with me in all 
frankness. Many a wife in this sort of a situation would 
have gone and got herself inseminated behind their 
husband's back. But not my Nicole. She may be toying 
with the idea out of sheer necessity. But no, not her. 
She was a one-man woman. 

Yes, my question was too blunt and I had used the word 
'your child' when I should have used the word 'our 
child'. It had just slipped out of me like that. Luckily 
she did not pick up on my error. May be she heard me say 
'our'. In my experience most women hear what they want 
to hear. Lucky for me.

While she was formulating her response I wanted to make 
my stand quite clear. I affirmed in a manly voice, "I 
just don't like another dick slipping into you." I gave 
the statement an air of finality, while at the same time 
affectionately slipping my middle finger into her. She 
did not respond for about half a minute. 

Her hand kept moving back and forth from my balls to the 
flaccid shaft. Taking my question matter-of-factly she 
responded in all honesty, "No, I did not ask him the 
fathering question. It was too early in the game at that 
point. I wanted us, you and me, to have all my research 
data on him before we - that is you and me, asked him. 
Mother may have mentioned our situation to him and that 
we might need a sperm donor. He may have made his 
guesses as to why I was trying to know him, with all 
questions and questionnaires etc., but he was a 
gentleman. Didn't ask any questions. May be he wanted to 
probe me later." 

She fell silent for a minute, looking at me off and on. 
Expecting her to continue, I stayed quiet, except for my 
finger that was trying to make communion with her clit. 
I put my hand on autopilot and made my mind all ears to 
what she would respond. What she would respond to my 
objections for another dick probing her.

"Fran darling, you know I love you more than I love 
myself; I would never let anyone slip into me for the 
fun of it. Never, never, never!!!" She moved back a bit 
to face me, to make eye contact. Naturally my finger 
lost its place. Her voice was accusatory, "You combined 
two questions into one. That does not make a dialogue, 
which is what we should have. It is like my grabbing 
your two balls and squeezing into one." And she reached 
her hand out and acted it out. She had made the point. 
The squeezing hurt me a bit, as my question must have 
been to her. 

She went on magnanimously, "Let me see if I can answer 
both questions, second question, first" she said. "But 
let me beat around the bush a bit to come to the point, 
it will make sense to your academic mind" she said just 
as I put my hand affectionately on her bush. "Let us 
take the macro perspective of our nation going into 
Granada, Panama, Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan just to 
take a few instances. Why did we go in? We wanted to 
give them a new life, a new joy, a feeling of peace 
within, and solidarity with the world around them. We 
just didn't go in there to bomb the hell out of them 
just for our pleasure did we?" 

She looked at me for an answer. It was not just a 
rhetorical question. She was dead right. There was only 
one answer, "We went in there for a greater good," I 
said tamely. 

Pleased that I had seen her point she continued, "It is 
the purpose that makes the difference is it not? If we 
had not put ourselves into those countries where would 
they be to-day? We moved in and we moved out. Got in, 
did our job and got out. We did not plant our flag there 
and stay in. Is it not?" She was looking straight into 
my conscience. As a patriot American I had to nod my 
head in agreement with her. 

Confident she had made the analogy obvious to me, she 
went on chuckling in a joking tone, "About any old Tom 
or Harry slipping their dick into me, they are not under 
consideration, only Nick is. He is an American and your 
own blood brother, and only his dick can slip in and 
slip out of me, for a purpose you and I know very well. 
And that too if you and I both jointly make the decision 
to allow him to do so. So, darling put this thought of 
any old dick slipping into me out of your mind. I love 
you too much to let Tommy or Harry or Dick near me." She 
drew close to me with affection, resting her palm on my 
flaccid dick.

She continued on, "Now let me come to your first 
question, whether I popped the question to him about his 
willingness to release his semen, his sperms in my 
vagina." Her voice was calm and she continued. "No, I 
did not ask him that question, not at that point in 
time. I wanted to wait until we both - you and me - had 
had a chance to evaluate my research data. But yesterday 
it became obvious that his response to that question 
would also be data for us to consider. There is no point 
in us going to the point of accepting him if he was 
going to say no. So, I posed that question to him in a 
subtle way yesterday when I met him at your mother's 
place. I was in meeting with him when you dropped by." 
She blushed and looked away. 

My mind immediately went back to remember my hunch of 
the previous day, when I was driving home after I left 
mother's place. I was right. It was Nicole's car I had 
seen. She must have realized I had seen her car. No 
wonder she wanted to tell it all before I quizzed her, 
or asked my mother or my sister. I wondered what else of 
my hunch was right? Surprisingly I kept my cool and 
helped her to continue, "So, that was the fourth meeting 
with him. What was on the agenda?" I asked.

"Your sister had insisted that I should give him a 
physical examination also to complete the profile I was 
building. She said better do it now rather than later 
feel sorry. So, I wanted to make sure he did not have 
any physical deformities or repulsive birth marks in 
other ways. I simply asked him to show me his birthday 
suit."

I had lost eye contact. She had blushed even more. I 
could see that she wanted to tell me all and let it all 
hang out, but her womanly bashfulness was coming in the 
way. At such times a wife needs her husband's manly 
boldness of expression to come to her aid. It was an 
acid test for my gallantry. I figured that responding to 
straightforward questions was the best way to let her 
express herself and also do so briefly in her blushed 
and bashful condition. As for the questions to pose her, 
I relied on my memory of the physical examination she 
had put me through during our dating days. I asked "Did 
you find any unsightly birthmarks on any part of his 
body suit?"

"No, but he has a lot of hair on his chest," she replied 
obviously relieved that I too wanted just the facts.

"Did the hair have perspiration odor or feel coarse?"

"No, there was no bad perspiration odor and it felt 
smooth and silky like the hair on his head."

"That is good. What about pubic hair or hair on the 
scrotum?"

"No bad smell, strong masculine odor, and the hairs were 
short and silky smooth."

"Must be high levels of testosterone then. That is good! 
Was he well hung, did his musket present you an honor 
guard? Did it feel robust, hard, and clean?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, it was rock hard, uniform in 
thickness, rather longer and thicker too."

Remembering what she had done to me before she decided 
to go steady with me, I wanted to ask if she had tried 
to measure the circumference with her mouth, but did not 
know how to phrase the question without invading her 
privacy. I also wanted to ask if she had fired the 
musket to see how far the bullets would go, again 
remembering what she had put me through. In my case she 
had also wanted to smell and taste the pellets, as she 
was new to it all and wanted to learn as much as 
possible. But I postponed ascertaining whether she had 
applied these same tests to Nick. At present it was 
enough to focus on more seminal issues.

"I hope not so big as to create physical damage or undue 
wear and tear," I smiled jokingly. She laughed and said, 
"No, I hope not... I don't think we need to worry on 
that account. Women have capacities that men do not 
usually believe," she replied in a similar joking way.

I inquired "Recall your saying that a new life should 
come out of the passionate rough and tumble of man and 
woman. Were you able to test out the potentialities and 
probabilities in this respect?" 

"Yes, in a limited way. I put him through a simulation 
of the rub and tumble."

"I don't understand how can one simulate the rough and 
tumble without appropriate emotions, Can you elaborate 
that." My curiosity rose up, along with my manhood, 
which had been on an upward climb since I had started 
posing this set of questions to her. I dare say that the 
palm that had come to rest on my then flaccid member had 
picked up a message in these rising trends. I hoped that 
these were not interpreted as glad tidings. But meanings 
are in the minds of beholders and we some times give 
unintended messages.

My last question had challenged her to be bold, much 
like a witness in a court of law. She had to find the 
words herself now. She became daring, looked me in the 
eyes and calmly said, "Sure, one can, like women fake 
orgasms, like actors and actresses sex it up in porno 
movies, without actually sexing." 

"Oh, I see, there may not be penetration but they do rub 
breast to breast, and put bare thighs within bare thighs 
and act out a rocking in and rocking out. And we see it 
in the movie as if it is the real McCoy."

"Yes, you got the picture now," she said without batting 
her eyes. Only her face was still a bit red. She had 
acquitted herself very well, and reported all she had 
wanted to report on this aspect. I moved her to a 
related track that had been triggered in my mind now. 

"Did he want to inspect your birthday suit too? And did 
he find anything unacceptable to him?" 

"No. He said something about him being able to tell a 
book from its covers. I didn't quite understand that. I 
thought it would only be fair to reciprocate his 
openness. I got into my birthday suit, taking my own 
time. From his facial expressions I inferred that he did 
not find anything unacceptable, in fact more than 
acceptable I should say. He said he found my juices 
delicious, and my saliva appetizing. He complimented my 
body odor to be sweet-scented, spine-tingling, and 
lifting."

I would have said the same except for the lifting. What 
is lifting to one may not be lifting to another. But I 
wasn't going to quibble with his words. I continued to 
help her out in presenting her data, "Did he think you 
were too petite and delicate, especially in view of his 
big size?" We had both been conversing now "in tongue" 
now.

"Yes, he said they looked delicate and felt soft. He did 
not think they were petite. On the size question, he 
believes that men and women are biologically built to 
accommodate each other more physiologically than 
psychologically."

"Was it then that you asked him the million dollar 
question? How did you phrase it exactly? I wish I was 
there to help you out with my professorial competent 
vocabulary," I said.

"Yes, shortly after I had completed my physical 
examination we exchanged some small talk, and he said 
some small jokes, and I ended up giving a small lecture 
on the topic Small is Beautiful. As for his willingness, 
the words were not hard to come. In fact it was quite 
spontaneous. Actually I wanted you to pop the question - 
man to man, that is if that is what we had decided to do 
after considering all my research data."

"Anyway what I asked does not commit us to anything. I 
was quite vague, wanting only to ascertain his 
inclinations, like your sister had suggested. What I 
asked him was if he would be willing to partner me to a 
mating dance at the uptown Bedrow," she beamed proudly 
at her own cleverly put question. She had deliberately 
flubbed 'bedroom' and 'upstairs'. Bedrow is also a 
glitzy hotel uptown that is known for its fancy popular 
dance competitions every spring.

"You know what his answer was?" she continued with 
earnestness in her voice, "He said he could, but only if 
you consented, consecrated, and choreographed the dance. 
Oh, he also wondered if the uptown Bedrow had 
appropriate professional settings. I lost him there! I 
didn't understand what he was alluding to, but I let it 
go as I did not want to appear dumb." 

After a silent gap she said, "There, that is my report. 
I am glad you heard me out. What do you think?" she 
asked. She had relief in her voice now that she had let 
it all hang out after she had thought out things. I had 
begun to hang out, in my own a small way I have 
confessed earlier in this essay, even though I had not 
fully thought out anything. Fortuitously, her hand that 
had come to rest on a flaccid part of my anatomy had 
gathered intelligence and interpreted glad tidings from 
my stirrings and expansions. Nicole is a smart and sharp 
lady. She concluded we had made a decision, if only a 
decision in principal. (This has come to be known in 
professional jargon as decision by anti-flaccidity.) 

She inched closer to me, gave me a full kiss and said, 
"You are a darling," and she gave me another kiss 
pushing her tongue into my mouth. We engaged in a battle 
of the tongues as equals. Now I was able to wag my 
tongue quite a bit to make up for all the rest I had 
given it while she was wagging her tongue all through 
our discussions. I love my wife. She is smart, cute, 
passionate, lusty, logical, does her homework and gets 
her way.

When we had had enough of sucking tongues, I decided it 
was time for me to show that I wear the pants in our 
family. It is the husband that should wear the pants in 
the family. And I was playing the husband role. "Have 
you had a chance to investigate any other options," I 
asked in all seriousness.

"Oh yes. Why did I forget to mention it," she chirped 
not really wanting to answer. "There is plan C, but it 
asks a lot of you," she added.

I asked her what plan C was. She went on to describe it 
as she had read it in the encyclopedia on sperm 
deficiency. It called for a six-month treatment of 
acupuncture on the penis as well as the scrotum 
accompanied by absolute abstinence in action as well as 
thought. She asked if absolute abstinence in thought 
would be possible in my case when I was teaching classes 
that were packed with young and brimming firm coeds. She 
added that it would cause much hardship on her and that 
she might shrivel up where she has been blossoming. 

She was right on the dot. As a husband it would be 
selfish as well as inhuman on my part to indulge in 
total abstinence in thought and deed; the deed would 
also put her through undue hardship. It would also be 
inhuman to put myself under needles in wrong places and 
perhaps in wrong hands. 

However, husbanding involves taking time to do the right 
things, and doing things right the first time. 
Husbanding also involves sleeping over things and 
thoughts or at least appearing to do so. So, I suggested 
that we mull things over for a day or two and catch some 
shuteye for the night. Having bared her conscience she 
had no difficulty in capturing shut eye. My conscience 
was in my crotch choreographing the dance she desired, 
and so was my hand.


CHAPTER 4: A FAMILY REUNION

I let a couple of days go by during with I tried to look 
ponderous. I felt genuinely affectionate towards Nicole. 
She deserved it for her candid reporting and thorough 
investigation of the options that faced us. I only 
wished that coeds in my classes did their research 
papers with such thoroughness. I was not only willing to 
give them top marks but also engage them in a dialogue 
to improve the quality of the paper to come up to 
excellent rating.

Anyway, I thought I should meet my new improved and 
reformed brother Nick to assess him myself. So, as 
Nicole was setting the dinner table I called mother and 
suggested that she arrange a family reunion where I 
could meet Nick whom I had not seen for a long time. 
Mother called back and said she could not arrange it 
until the coming Friday which happened to be the 
Octoberfest week. Nicole heard our conversation. 

She must have felt good that her research on Nick had 
not gone down the tube. It showed in her happy face. She 
seemed to have a lot of time until the Friday rolled 
around, because everyday she cooked up a storm. At 
dinner one day, I casually wondered if low sperm count 
was hereditary, and whether we should ask Nick to go get 
a sperm count. 

Nicole looked at me as if she were a hurricane. She said 
if that was the case, we would know pretty quickly, 
without making Nick feel defensive or challenged. Then, 
in a softer tone she said, "We have to bite the bullet, 
Francis, if we are going to get anywhere in life." She 
was right as usual. I am sure she had compiled research 
statistics on the probability of two brothers being 
similar in this respect.

Friday, late afternoon, we all had a backyard family 
picnic at mother's place. It was a beautiful warm day 
and all the three girls wore short summer dresses. Nick 
shook hands warmly and gave me a bear hug. He mentioned 
that he had heard glowing reports about my teaching from 
some of his friends and colleagues whose sisters or girl 
friends had been or were my students. He said he was 
proud of my prestigious social rank as an academic. He 
was quite talker and kept us all entertained by his 
humor and stories of fishing trips. I began to feel that 
he had indeed changed and was a mature and responsible 
person although academically an underachiever.

Because it was Octoberfest mother had cooked up German 
sausages and sour kraut. We sat on the picnic bench in 
the back yard. Mother sat between me and Nick, Nicole 
and my Sister sat on the other side, with Nicole 
directly opposite Nick. Nick was going on with his 
fishing stories and we were all laughing away. 

Suddenly I noticed that Nicole was eating the German 
sausage holding it like an ice cream cone, and licking 
and nibbling on it ever so delicately. Then I noticed my 
sister also doing the same. Both were intently absorbed 
in listening to nick's story, their eyes riveted on him. 
Then I noticed mother and Nick too eating their German 
sausages in the same way. I was the only person eating 
it the regular way sandwiching it in a bun. Only my 
plate had sour kraut, they obviously having eaten theirs 
first, or may be they were going back to it later. 

If you know Asch's family might look like he was sexing 
Nicole. He also said that I would have to play a doctor-
like role choreographing his every move, and that he 
would only be lending his tool for me to direct it as I 
would. Anyway he said he would ask my sister to be the 
attending nurse and would brief her on the details of 
the procedure. On the way home, I told Nicole the gist 
of my conversation with Nick and needless to say she was 
overjoyed, and expressed it in her usual way by reaching 
for me where I like to be reached and played with. 


CHAPTER 5: THE MAESTRO AND THE MATING DANCE

The next day, which was a Saturday, I had all day golf 
game with some colleagues and graduate students. Then we 
all went out for dinner as scheduled. So, by the time I 
reached home it was after eight O'clock. The house was 
buzzing with activity. My mother and sister were there, 
going up and down the stairs; they seemed to be 
arranging something. I couldn't help wonder why they 
were both wearing some kind of light green house coats, 
like the kind they give you in hospitals. Nicole was no 
where to be seen. 

Tired by the all day outing, I was about to take a beer 
from the cooler and about to plop myself in front of the 
TV when my sister came and told me to go take a shower. 
She also handed me a gown of the same color she was and 
told me to put it on after the shower and not to wear 
anything else underneath. She responded to my quizzical 
look with an explanation, "Nick is going to be pushing 
his seeds into Nicole shortly, he is showering now in 
the main bathroom, I'll come and get you when you have 
showered and into this gown," she pointed to the gown 
she had given me. 

As she was hurrying up the stairs she shot a question, 
"Didn't Mom tell you this morning to be home by 7 p.m.?" 
in answer to my open mouth and wide eyes that said, 
'what is going on here?' 

As she was departing I had also noticed that the 
housecoat she was wearing was open in the front, and she 
did not have any under garments underneath. I also 
noticed she had a nametag on her that said 'PROCTOR'. 
Mine is a nature that does not ask too many questions 
when I see people busy doing what they appear 
competently busy. So, I just picked up the housecoat and 
headed to my attached bedroom. Stuck to the housecoat 
was a nametag that said DOCTOR. I could not help deduce 
that I was to play the doctor role in the insemination 
procedure that was going to take place.

I showered in my bathroom and put on the housecoat I had 
been given. It was then that I noticed that it was also 
open in the front, and the ribbon belt did not suffice 
to keep my maleness hidden, especially if it started to 
raise itself. It occurred to my smart academic mind that 
if I wore it backwards then my maleness could be put 
undercover. So I did. As I was combing my hair my sister 
came to get me. She signaled me to be silent and led me 
to the guest bedroom.

The bedroom was looking more like a hospital room. The 
bed had light green sheets; the pillow was also of the 
same color. Nicole was lying on her back on the bed; she 
had been covered with a white sheet from her breasts to 
her bladder with her bare arms at her sides on top of 
the white sheet. Her thighs and legs were spread apart, 
one thigh and leg was covered with a pink sheet and the 
other was covered with a blue sheet. The only area that 
was not covered by any sheet was her pubic and mound 
area and a strip of flesh along the folds of the thigh. 

And of course her face too was open. Nick was standing 
at the foot of the bed, wearing only a robe similar to 
mine, but was wearing it with the open side at the 
front. Even though he had tied it with its string belt, 
his underside was slightly open and his erect manhood 
was peeking out of the robe, ready to do its job. Nick 
had his eyes in a blindfold. As Sis was leading me 
towards the bed she whispered to me that Nick wanted 
this kind of hospital atmosphere. 

I noticed Mother had a glad affirmative grin on her face 
and housecoat had a nametag that said RECTOR. She was 
also wearing nothing under the housecoat and her bush 
was a bit visible. Nick's nametag proclaimed him as 
NECTOR. There was some melodious music in low volume 
coming from somewhere and the room smelled like it had 
been given a good dose of the antiseptic Dettol. Sis led 
me to a side of the bed and moved a step back. 

Nicole who had been following my entry with her shining 
eyes took my hand in hers and gave a beaming blushing 
smile. I squeezed her had in reassurance. Her excitement 
was contagious. I also began to feel some excitement and 
stirrings in my bushes. Sis sensed I was at a loss not 
knowing what to do next, provided a prompt, by 
addressing Nick, "Nectar, the Doctor has come, he will 
position you now, and give you step by step 
instructions." So, that was my role as the doctor. I 
then remembered what he had said at the picnic, his 
wanting me to choreograph his every move.

Nick greeted me with a response, "Hello Doctor, I am all 
yours now." I motioned to PROCTOR to assist me, and 
began to help the blindfolded NECTOR to take the classic 
missionary mounting position above my wife. I then 
noticed Nicole's nametags stuck on her nightgown. She 
had two, one said ACTOR, and the other said VICTOR. I 
could not help but chuckle at the nomenclatures that had 
been adopted. I was the DOCTOR helping the VICTOR/ACTOR 
to get the sweet seeds from the NECTOR, aided by the 
PROCTOR under the overall supervision of the RECTOR.

While I was enjoying the humor in the nomenclatures, the 
PROCTOR suddenly remembered, "Oops, I forgot to 
blindfold the ACTOR/VICTOR," and she ran and wrapped the 
blindfold on Nicole." To my inquiring look, she answered 
by pointing to Nick and saying "procedure." Noticing 
that the NECTOR was holding in a mounting position, she 
signaled to me to grab his now fully enlarged shaft and 
guide it to the sheath. Sis had a frown on her face 
indicating that I was not lagging in my of guiding Nick 
for every move. Chastised, I took the ready penis by one 
hand and checked the sheath with the other to see if it 
was moist enough. 

It was moist all right, quite moist, and pulsing to 
receive. I gently pulled Nick's penis downward and 
positioned it right on top of my wife's pussy, just 
touching her vaginal lips. With two fingers I opened her 
lips apart and pushed his penis just a little in. That 
act of mine, as the husband of Nicole was an act of 
sanctification. With the power vested in me as the 
husband of one and the brother of another it brought a 
holiness tot what otherwise would have been a sacrilege. 

Holding his penis in my hand was quite an electric 
feeling. It was hard like steel, robust, strong and 
quite manly. Holding it for that small duration made me 
proud of my brother, like I suppose my academic 
achievements had made him proud of me. Yes, it was 
longer, thicker and harder. I felt glad he was inserting 
it into my wife. As my wife had said earlier, it was not 
just any dick. It was of my own brother, my own flesh 
and blood. 

I began to give him step by step instructions, "Push a 
bit in, just a bit; pull a bit out. Good. Push a bit in, 
just a bit; pull a bit out. Good, Push a bit in, pull a 
bit out.... Keep doing so, until you have reached the 
bottom or inserted yourself all the way in. OK, I think 
you have gone all the way in. Now, slowly pull out 
almost all the way, and slowly push all the way in. 
Repeat that a few times...."

I asked my wife, "How are you doing Nicole, Is it OK? 
How is it feeling?" 

A slow moan came out of Nicole, "Ooommmmm, it is feeling 
gooood, reeeal gooood," and she sucked air through her 
teeth. She went on, "I feel full, fuuuullll to the 
brimmmmh, it is beeeg! Ooommmmm, it is feeling gooood."

I felt confident in my doctor role. The approving 
glances from Mother and Sis boosted my confidence in 
throwing out instructions. "OK Nick, now vary the 
pattern of your thrusts and pulls, pull out quick, fast, 
and put back slowly, pullout quick and push back slowly, 
do that a few times." He did. Nicole responded by a long 
sucking air through teeth sound, and gave approving 
moans.

I felt good that my wife was enjoying the process of 
getting inseminated. I changed instructions, "OK Nick, 
now reverse the process, make your withdrawals slow, 
very slow, but make your thrusts fast, almost like rams. 
...... Good, that's the way. Make ten of those." I 
instructed, and watched Nicole. Even though she was 
blindfolded, I could tell she was in delightful 
enjoyment. Nothing gives a husband more satisfaction 
than seeing his wife getting good joyful sex.

"Now, Nick, let us change the pattern a bit. Pull out 
all the way. Now just use the head part as your weapon 
to make fast short thrusts and fast retractions. Just so 
it massages only up to the clit and not beyond. Yes, 
that's the way. Good." 

I glanced at my dear sweet wife. Those short 
thrusts/massages tease the cunt, making it want more 
intensity and deep thrusts. Yes, my wife was indeed 
making impatient sounds, as if the candy that was given 
was now taken away except on the top end. She made 
Unnhuu, Unnhuu, Unnhuu, Unnhuu, that said 'give me all 
of it, give me more of it'.

She yelled out, "Ohhh Nick, Ohh Francis!" 

That was music to my ears.

"Oooh, Ooohhoo, gooood, Oh Nick, Oh Francis, Unnhuu, 
Unnhuu, give it to me, give it to me, Mmmmmmnnnoh, 
Mmmmmmnnnoh."

I was riding on top of the world. I had become a good 
choreographer of sexing. "Nick," I said, "now pullout 
all the way, yes, all the way out, and just rest your 
rod on her pussy lips, just barely touching her pussy 
lips." Blindfolded Nick did exactly as I bid him.

Nicole screamed, "Oh, Shit," she sucked air in through 
her teeth, "Oh, give it back to me, damn it, give it to 
me! Fuck me, Fuck me, quick, now! I mean NOW!" she was 
howling. She was in full heat. Her egg must had been 
released and traveled to where it was expecting to meet 
a suitor!

I put my hand on Nick's buttocks to make him hear me, 
"OK brother Nick, she is ready. Resume your deep 
penetrations and retractions, but slowly, slowly, okay 
that is the way..." Moaning sounds of approval and 
pleasure emanated from the bed. Also, the mound started 
to jump up to meet the incoming thrusts.
"Nick, now gradually increase the speed of your pushes 
and pulls and hold it at a pace comfortable to you," I 
instructed and looked around to meet beaming faces of my 
mother and sister. Mother gave a thumbs-up sign. Sis 
made an approving hole sign joining her index finger and 
thumb.

Nicole started moaning and moving her head from side to 
side. She was also making sounds of sucking air, 
thrusting her mound upward meeting halfway the downward 
thrusts that were coming to her. Then she came. She came 
with a great "OOOmmmmfffffffffff," and a quaked, 
quivered, and jolted; head turning quickly and jerkily 
this way and that way. She pulled off her blind fold, 
looked at me for a split second and half closed her 
eyes; she was still coming. Nick was pounding his 
thrusts at a steady pace, not yet ready to finish off. 
Nick kept on fucking her at his steady pace. 

I marveled at his staying power. Nicole had a second 
peaking of climax. Her body quavered and quivered, 
trembled and shuddered, with sounds of thrill, delight 
and relish escaping from her mouth and nostrils. Nick 
was still carrying on, still in a blindfold. I thought 
it only fair that his blindfold should also come off. My 
able PROCTOR sensed my thoughts and went and undid the 
knot of his blindfold. 

VICTOR sensed something had changed, and opened her 
eyes. NECTOR and VICTOR, now eye to eye, continued the 
seeding operation. I realized that somewhere along the 
process of discharging my role, my hands had also been 
making movements like that of a music conductor. Now 
that Nick was off his blindfold I repositioned myself 
where he could see my hands and perform according to my 
hand movements. 

With appropriate hand gestures and histrionics I 
instructed him to lower himself breast to breast, grab 
the headboard and change his up-down thrusts to forward-
backward pubic rubbing motions that would also make his 
balls rub her pussy lips. I just wanted to maximize my 
wife's pleasure to the max. 

Nick followed my signals. The bed began to rock and make 
creaking noises. That only served to increase the 
binding of the bodies on the bed. The sheets had all 
come off now. Nick's gown now covered only a small part 
of his back and shoulders. Mother's housecoat had opened 
at the front and she had one hand with its middle finger 
doing what Nick was doing to her daughter-in-law. 

Sis was standing open mouthed enthralled by the 
performance she was witnessing. Her gown was soaking wet 
in the front, and she was unmindful of her juices 
running down the inside of both of her thighs. The gown 
I was wearing backwards had long ago acquired a 
protuberance from inside, small it may be, depending 
upon the benchmark utilized, but it was at its max. 

The dance at the uptown Bedrow was taking place with an 
approving and admiring audience of three. As its patron, 
architect and sponsor I could feel nothing but pure joy 
of achievement. The horizontal dancers were gazing into 
each others eyes, breathing each other's breaths, 
feeling each other's body heat, sharing each other's 
passion in lustful lock, engaged and bound in a covenant 
that was sanctified by their mother/mother-in-law, 
brother/husband and Sister/sister-in-law. 

Given these blessings the tempo of forward-backward 
motions increased to warp speed, the creaking went to a 
crescendo. The shaft released the seeds; the sheath 
sucked them in and milked for more. The donor and the 
donee bodies, locked together, rumbled, tumbled and 
thundered in ecstatic satisfaction. My wife had had a 
joyful sanctified fornication, received a sacred 
secretion and hopefully her egg had met with a superior 
suitor sperm. 


CHAPTER 6: THE CURTAIN CALL 

The next morning I woke up with a good feeling about 
myself. I had gone to bed in an euphoric mood because I 
had discovered a new talent, that of conducting 
philharmonics (or I could say phallus-harmonics or 
pussharmonics). From a DOCTOR role I had moved to a 
TUTOR role and then to a CONDUCTOR role. My sister, my 
wife, my own mother had all paid compliments to my 
choreography, direction and humor. It was like attending 
the Los Angeles Philharmonic they had said. I am not 
usually given to flattery. 

But in this case I had myself felt I had performed 
exceptionally well, over and above the call of duty. It 
had given my wife ecstatic pleasure that I had not seen 
her experience before, and I felt good I had given her 
that kind of pleasure that I had always wanted to, but 
had been unable to. Nick and I had performed as a team. 
He had followed my directions very closely, had acted as 
a remote extension of my shaft. My mind and his shaft 
had functioned without a seam. We had become what they 
call as a 'high performance' cohesive team. I felt good. 

Nicole had been up much before me. She was cooking a 
fantastic breakfast. As I noted before she is a 
fantastic cook. All through the morning she was beaming 
a smile, kept complimenting me and thanking me, and 
showed her affection for me in new ways that I had not 
known before. When I was reading the newspaper after my 
Sunday morning chores of attending to the lawn etcetera, 
she came to me and had me put my hand on her tummy and 
asked if I felt anything? 

I didn't want to disappoint her and said, "Yes, I think 
I feel something." 

She knew I could not feel anything that early, but she 
was happy with my answer. She curled next to me on the 
couch. "Darling, do you know you made me have fantastic 
sex last night?" she asked with a blush. I looked at her 
feeling flattered and nodded a simple agreement. "You 
know I climaxed at least three times," she said, "I have 
never had that kind of super sex before." 

I put the paper down, putting my professorial cap on, I 
went into an explanation, "You see darling, there were 
some factors in the equation yesterday. You were 
expecting a sterile hospital procedure. But there was an 
audience that was rooting for you, and you simply felt 
their supportive energy in your pussy. Their presence in 
effect was what social psychologists call as 'social 
facilitation'. Then there was your husband's reassuring 
and enthusiastic voice directing the operations of the 
donor Nick. This encouraged you subconsciously to shed 
all inhibitions and go for the gold. Third, there was 
Nick who put himself entirely in my hands and melded his 
penis with my mind. So it was your loving hubby sexing 
through him. Fourth, Nick has a tool that is a diamond. 
He seems to have a lot a staying power. And don't forget 
that he was acting for a cause - the fertilization of 
your egg. So, your initial perception of a sterile 
hospital atmosphere quickly melted away by these other 
factors, and you had super sex experience." 

Having given a brilliant explanation I looked at her for 
an appreciative expression. But she seemed to be on the 
verge of dozing off; still she managed to say, "Yes, 
Nick has a diamond, a real diamond... she trailed off to 
sleep. She was quite tired from the excitement and 
exhaustion of the previous night. I went back to my 
newspaper hoping that she had heard all of my 
explanation. She woke up after about an hour from a bad 
dream. But went about cheerfully. She cooked a great 
Italian lunch. 

I watched a ball game in the afternoon and she was busy 
on the phone and on the Internet. For dinner she put a 
rump roast in the oven. As it got cooked its smell 
wafted through the house. It was my favorite as she had 
developed a secret ingredient of her own to cook it 
with. We sat down for dinner with our favorite wine. She 
looked very happy and very relaxed. From time to time 
she turned pink and I could tell a tinkle went through 
her spine each time. Obviously she was going over her 
mental tapes of the previous night. 

After dinner we relaxed comfortably in the living room 
with some more wine. I asked her why she had blushed 
again and again during dinner. It took some coaxing to 
get it out of her. She said she was mentally acting out 
sexing it up with me via the diamond that belonged to 
Nick. She asked me if I minded if her thoughts dwelt 
upon the great sex she had. She said the sex she had, 
had made every cell of her feel like a woman. 

She snuggled close to me and ran her fingers on where my 
bulge would have been had I bulged. I don't bulge much 
due to my limitations in that respect, which I believe I 
have mentioned in an earlier chapter. I felt empathy for 
her and wanted to ask her if she would like to have Nick 
come for a sleepover, but I restrained myself thinking 
it might become habit forming to her. 

We watched some TV, but nothing was interesting. 
Flipping channels we caught the tail end of Ally McBeal 
show. Coincidentally the story line had a couple trying 
to have a baby except that it was taking numerous 
attempts and they were having a hard time to arrange 
privacy and time as they were both working shifts. She 
was on day shift and he was on night shift. It was quite 
a hilarious show. The show prompted Nicole to say that 
it had taken 6 attempts to conceive Nick where as it had 
taken only four for me. She said she got it straight 
from the horse's mouth, meaning my mother. I hadn't 
known that. 

Boy, the kind of stuff women talk among them is amazing! 
It triggered something very significant in my mind. It 
came out as a question to her. "Do you think you have 
become pregnant last night?" If she hadn't, all that 
footwork she had done, and the leg-and-thigh-work I had 
coordinated did not make didly-winks. I could tell both 
of us were perturbed. But neither wanted to let the 
other know their perturbation. 

Nothing more was spoken, only physical movements to 
comfort each other and hands on each other's private 
anatomies declaring our love for each other. Her hand 
that had come to rest nonchalantly on my private anatomy 
had gathered intelligence and interpreted it in a way 
favorable to her inclinations. She is a smart and sharp 
lady in addition to being shapely. She concluded we had 
made a decision, a decision by anti-flaccidity. (Yet we 
went through the motions of rational thinking and 
decision making as you will see.)

*

Monday was a workday and I got up late. So I had to rush 
off to work.

When I touched base with Nicole at lunch hour, she did 
not sound happy. She sounded huffy and puffy, and said 
something about my sister that I did not quite 
understand. She had good reason to, after what I heard 
when I got home.

Sis had calculated that Nicole was at the peak of her 
fertility cycle on that Saturday. Hence it had been 
arranged on that Saturday for Nick to put his penis in 
her. Nicole had done some recalculations of her 
fertility cycles. Her calculations had shown that Sis 
was dead wrong. The recalculations showed that the start 
of her fertility cycle was still two days away. So, the 
sexing that had taken place between the donor and the 
donee had been a non-starter. 

Her research during the day, on the net, and on the 
phone to the Washington Head Office of the 'Proxy 
Pregnancies Council of America', had revealed the 
reasons why pregnancies are unlikely to take place in 
just one attempt. They had said that for fertilization 
to take place the Ph factors and Rh factors in the 
vagina should complement the same factors present in the 
precum of a penis that enters the vagina. But in the 
case of a proxy penis, not being accustomed to the Ph 
and Rh factors, the female's factors fight them rather 
co-mingle and create a smooth passage like a 'luge 
track' for the stranger sperms to glide on forward. 

That in bottom line terms simply means that if you are 
using a proxy penis, use it a number of times so that 
the chemistry factors in the female's vagina become 
friendly rather than hostile towards the Ph and Rh 
factors in the precum. Thus, new research knowledge had 
made Nicole distraught, by the time I got home. She had 
looked crest fallen because all her thorough research 
had overlooked this one aspect. The erroneous 
calculation by my Sis served only to add to our 
perturbation of the previous night, our 'onetime 
seeding' assumption had been rather na‹ve.

During dinner, (I must say that she mad managed to cook 
up a special dinner despite the anguish she had 
experienced after her said recalculations), we put our 
heads together and took stock of where we were now, and 
where we wanted to be. We exchanged some views but 
mostly mulled in our own heads. After I did the dishes 
we sat down with some wine to loosen and share our 
thoughts. It was obvious we could not accuse and lash 
out at my sister. Math was never her strong suit. Rumor 
was that she passed math by familiarizing her birthday 
suit to her math teacher.

We could not let my mother know that my sister had 
miscalculated. She would naturally defend her daughter 
and ask why Nicole did not do her homework. We were 
already feeling guilty for not having done our homework. 

We couldn't tell Nick, "Oh oops Nick, your labor just 
went down the tube." He had wanted all that hospital-
like, antiseptic environment, for planting a new life. 
He would feel he had been made a fool. And he might say 
phooey to any new favor we may request of him. 

So, the only sane and sensible way for us was to play 
the 'times it took to conceive Nick and Francis'. That 
way we could induce Nick to make some 'house calls'.

Nicole felt that Nick would not go for it. Probed 
further, she said it was her intuition that he would 
not, based on the elaborate ritual he had prescribed for 
the Saturday seeding. I counseled that she might be 
jumping to conclusions because of sheer pessimism she 
was feeling just then. I said that perhaps if she had 
run a 'inclination test' of his body language when she 
had given him the physical exam, we would have some real 
data. She did not know what an inclination test was. She 
asked, "What is an inclination test?"

I readily explained, "An inclination test is simply one 
where we are sensitive to the inclinations of another's 
body language. You see, each part of our body has its 
own consciousness, and its own communication system. If 
we tap into this communication system, then we can 
predict one's future behavior." She could only say, "I 
lost you! I don't know what you are talking about."

"OK, look, when you gave him that physical examination 
at mother's house, when you tried to measure the 
circumference his manhood making your mouth the 
measuring calipers, did you sense his body wanting to 
incline towards you or away from you," I asked very 
matter-of-factly.

"If I recall correctly, I believe I sensed something 
incline towards me, not away from me," she said. 

"Good. That is a partial predictor. Then, when you were 
testing him in the simulation of the rough and tumble 
passion, did his dickhead manage to slip ever so 
slightly into your pusscave?" I asked as a follow up 
question, again in an academic unemotional tone.

She strained to recall that distant memory, "Yes, I 
believe so. I did not attach much importance to it at 
that time. How does that help us now?"

I was relieved that my need, my obsessive need to know 
all the crucial details of the physical examination 
Nicole had given to Nick was now fulfilled. I breathed a 
sigh of relief. Naturally Nicole had felt bashful to 
tell me all at that time. Now that we were on an 
increased level of trust, she had come forth with the 
information. I felt like a detective that had cleverly 
discovered the real facts. 

I did not let this success gloat on my face. I answered 
her question ponderously, "yes, tidbits of information 
tell us much about the world. These last two bits of 
information you have provided are the two main 
components of the 'inclinations test'. They reveal his 
behavioral inclination, should we ask him to make house 
calls. Based on what you have told me, I predict that 
his response would be in the affirmative," I looked at 
her triumphantly feeling good about my ways of drawing 
out information and making data based scientific 
deductions.

"The proof of the pudding is in its eating," she 
responded in disbelief.(Did she mean Nick eating her? I 
didn't know if Nick was into eating pussy. I thought 
that is something she had reserved for me. Or, did she 
mean she wanted to be eaten. I was in a dilemma, not 
knowing what she meant. I looked at her with squinted 
eyes to discern what she wanted from me. Having resolved 
my doubts, and discerning in her voice no hostility 
towards me. I resolved to act for her.

I got on the phone and probed mother the veracity of 
what she had casually mentioned to Nicole about x 
attempts for conceiving him and only y attempts for me. 
When she admitted it was true, I feigned anger at her 
for not enlightening us with that information. I put it 
to her that she implicitly led us to believe that one 
seeding was all that was necessary for Nicole to become 
pregnant. I asked her plainly what if Nick did not agree 
to do some more follow up seedings, and what if he 
demanded each seeding be done as a theatrical 
performance. 

[Nicole had told me that just because she was not 
embarrassed on Saturday does not mean She would not be 
embarrassed if the situation were be repeated. She had 
been emphatic in noting her conviction that nature 
intended a new life to germinate in the privacy of the 
ruff and tumble of passion between a male and a female, 
particularly of the human kind, the highest of nature's 
evolution.] 

Mother told me to calm down, to stop worrying and be 
happy! That is mother's universal formula. She told me 
to give Nick more credit than I had given. In fact I was 
happy that she said, 'he may be stupid, but not that 
stupid'. She said to sit tight and to say the right 
words when the time came for such words. She was being 
mysterious. What words? What time? Well that is mother!

Nicole was proud I had acquitted myself very well on the 
phone. She gave me her glass to sip wine from and 
comforted me, saying that hopefully she had become 
pregnant and that time will tell us so. We relaxed and 
got absorbed in the courtroom drama on TV of Ally 
McBeal.

In less than half an hour it was Nick on the phone 
calling to inquire how we were and how Nicole was 
feeling. In between he thanked us for the honor that had 
been bestowed on him to father our child. I casually 
slipped in the news of mother taking six attempts to 
conceive him and taking only four attempts for me, and 
the fact that we, Nicole and me, were so na‹ve to assume 
that all it took was one seeding for Nicole. I also let 
it slip out that otherwise we would have asked multiple 
seeding from him, 'cluster seeding' I called it, to add 
a tone of humor. 

He must have been in a great sportive mood. He said, 
"Any time brother, if you want me to come for the next 
ten days, I will. Anything to make you couple get what 
you want. I was about to say, "How about starting to-
day?" but Nicole who was listening with her ear close to 
the earpiece made signals to tell him "Starting 
tomorrow." She was gesturing to her hair and nails, 
meaning she wanted to get her hair done and her nails 
pained and polished for the occasion. Women are fussy in 
those things. They are from Mars as the book says! For 
men, anytime is fucktime.


CHAPTER 7 : CLUSTER SEEDING

The next day saw Nicole bright and up early. She had had 
a sound night. When I got home, she had her hair in 
golden ringlets, wearing a sexy satin dress I had not 
seen before. She had gone to the beauty salon to get her 
waxwork, hair and nails done. She was glowing with 
anticipation of the seeding to come. The short dress 
showed off her healthy smooth pink thighs. She smelled 
divine and looked ravishingly beautiful. She was all 
ready for being ravished by Nick. I smiled and 
complemented her, "Looks like the lady is ready to kill 
my poor dear brother," and she responded jovially, "You 
better believe it mister!"

Inviting smells were wafting from the kitchen and my 
stomach pulled me there. Dinner with wine was soothing 
to my system. I did the dishes while she relaxed in the 
living room with a magazine. I joined her and watched 
some TV. Soon we heard a car in the driveway, and she 
said good night and went upstairs. I answered the 
doorbell and let Nick in. After a pleasant greeting, I 
said, "Nicole is expecting you upstairs," I added 
smiling, "Go, get her Tiger!" He went up the staircase, 
climbing two steps at a time. My brother is a go-get-
her.

Soon I could hear some muffled conversation, chuckling 
and laughter. He must have started telling his fish 
stories again to put her at ease. The voices subsided 
and soon I could hear the sound of bedsprings creaking, 
and a muffled thudding of the headboard against the 
wall, and a soft cry of my woman. I hoped she was not 
hurting because of his size, a size she was not used to. 
I imagined a big male creature on top of my delicate 
little female. I wondered whether Amanda and I had made 
all the right decisions that had brought us to this 
night. 

I heard her again, "Oh god!" And the headboard pounded 
into the wall with a heavy thud. "Oh!" And another thud. 
I felt myself perspiring. I told myself not to listen, 
to concentrate on the TV show. My left hand went to 
clutch something less than rock hard. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. My brother must be in final his 
thrusts, I thought. Thud. Thud. There was a creaking of 
bedsprings, and little gasping moans. Moans of 
conception I thought. Yes, there was an immaculate 
conception going on upstairs. (Immaculate means without 
sin, because it had been blessed by me as well as my 
mother who was also Nick's mother). Thud. Thud. The man 
was still thrusting, from the sound of it. Why was it 
taking so long? It only takes a minute or less to spurt 
and make an emission, unless one can and wants to beat 
around the bush. The rhythmic pounding continued for 
several minutes as well as guttural sounds, "Ooh! oh! 
oh! Ohooooouuuh! Mmmuuuooooo! Hhhaaaahhaaa!"

Yes, the insemination, impregnation was taking place. I 
could only hope that the Ph and Rh factors were making a 
friendly acquaintance. It was too warm in the living 
room. So I went to the basement and watched TV until 
late and fell asleep on the sofa there.

I was wolfing down another delicious dinner next evening 
and Nicole was pampering me with much affection. She was 
bubbly and glowed like a goddess. She had that 'I am a 
Woman' feeling that most wives have briefly the morning 
after a night of good sex. But Nicole's feeling had not 
worn off even by dinnertime. She must have gotten super 
sex I thought, and felt proud of my brother. She was all 
smiles and so was I. Quite casually I inquired, "So, 
what time did you go to bed last night?" 

"Not too late. I hope we were not too noisy," she 
beamed, "I had a great time, thanks to you, honey. I 
hope you were worm enough in the basement. I should have 
left a few blankets there," she apologized. I protested, 
"No, it was not cold, it was all right, but just to ease 
your mind I will take a blanket today, okay." 

She beamed and I beamed back. We were almost finished 
dinner, but she came and pulled me towards the living 
room, saying, "Fran, I must share it with you, I am 
bursting to tell you." She sat on the sofa and made me 
lie down with my head in her lap. She kissed me on he 
lips and said, "Fran, I don't want you to feel jealous, 
but I really saw his penis yesterday when it had become 
soft and limp, and it hung down quite long and it was 
quite thick even then." Keeping her locked to mine she 
blurted with an amazed expression, "I didn't know that a 
man's penis can be that long and thick and not totally 
shrivel up when it is limp." 

I didn't know where her sharing was going, so I decided 
to remain unthreatened, "Yes, unlike our hands and feet, 
our penises vary in size, the differences can be as 
pronounced as the difference between a buxom woman's 
large breasts and a plain Jane's flat chest. But nipples 
are nipples, penises are penises." But I guess my 
response was not required. 

She went on, "He has a lot of staying power too. It took 
many fuckings to come down to a soft and limp condition. 
And when hard and inside me I felt it go down to my very 
depths, and he could have used some more depth," she 
looked at me exuding pleasure and amazement. I didn't 
respond this time. I gazed at her in equal wonderment at 
her sharing. "Do you think I will get permanently 
stretched in my pussy," She asked. I sensed a tone of 
concern in her voice. Obviously she was worried on my 
account, whether my penis would give her any rubbing 
sensation at all when our life returned to normal. 

She continued, "You know sweetie, the extra large size 
condoms they keep in the drug store, they had always 
made me wonder how an extra large penis would feel 
inside me. Whether it made a difference, whether it 
would make its way inside me, whether fuller and longer 
thrusts would give more pleasure, more ecstasy." 

I realized she just wanted me to listen. So I listened, 
nodding or a listening "uh hunh." even though I felt 
that this is not the sort of thing she should be sharing 
with me. She continued glassy eyed, "I found out! Yes, 
it does make a difference, a whole lot of difference." 
In her enthusiasm to share her joyous experience she was 
oblivious to how I could feel by what she had said. But 
I was equanimous. One should give merit where merit is 
due. 

She continued to share, "Your brother is a gentleman. He 
was afraid that I might hurt or get torn at the edges. 
He was very gentle. You know what he asked, he asked if 
it had hurt me last Saturday. I was too keyed up on 
Saturday and you guided him gently, so I had not felt 
any hurt. But yesterday I was initially afraid, but he 
kept his thrusts short at first until finally he was in 
all the way. Then he asked me how I felt. I felt full, 
to the brim, and at the same time it was a strange 
intense feeling that thrilled me more than any sensation 
ever before. Then when he started pumping slowly at 
first, and then faster and faster, I felt fireworks go 
in my pussy, in my clit, in my tits, in my brain. I felt 
as if the whole world was revolving on the axle of his 
hard penis. I think I kept saying 'Oh, god,' 'Oh god.' I 
think I may also have said 'Fuck me, fuck me' a few 
times." Nicole kissed me again, and inquired, "I hope 
you don't mind, Fran. I was caught up in the rough and 
tumble of passion to create a new life in my womb." 

"No, I don't mind. You are my wife and he is my brother. 
Both of you were engaged in a mission. Remember the 
analogy you gave of us Americans going into Afghanistan 
and Panama? What you are describing is what Panama Canal 
would have said if it could speak, when it was being 
widened." I laughed a bit at the analogy I had created. 

"Not a bull in your China shop?" she said cracking her 
own joke. She continued, "To finish my story, the 
wonderful pleasure sensations cascaded upward and upward 
and eventually, I don't know when, I felt a roaring 
sound in my ears. I could feel the throbbing of the 
veins in his big hard penis; I felt his warm semen gush 
and squirt and shoot into my vagina. You know what else? 
I could feel my spasms of joy starting at the center of 
my clit, flow as ripples over my body again and again. I 
felt it even in the hair on my scalp. Oh, darling, it 
felt like I had died and gone to heaven, it was too 
good," she said, adding after a little while, "Oh Fran, 
it was so good, you would understand, if you were a 
woman!" I was not a woman. So I was not going to 
comprehend the magnitude of her joy. But I understood it 
was magnificent, awesome!!

"Do men feel anything like that?" she asked, forgetting 
that the question was not appropriate on account of my 
not having proper qualifications or equipment. But I had 
to answer on behalf of mankind as a whole, and I 
ventured to speak for all men, "I think not. But it is a 
wonderful feeling, especially the 'goal gradient', the 
closer you are to the finishing line, the faster you 
want to get there. Then there comes about a wonderful 
sense of mastery or conquest, a sense of accomplishment 
and achievement. Yes, it's the most wonderful feeling in 
the world for men too, but I think men experience it 
differently than women."

She pondered on my response; her eyes gazed something 
distant, but not for long. 

"Now that I have shared my last night with you, Fran 
darling, can you leave the house all for myself and Nick 
tonight? I would want him to knock me up in every room 
and on every sofa. And with us running around the house 
you won't be able to catch any sleep. But it would be 
nice if you stayed for a while and took some pictures 
recording my road to pregnancy." 

I excused myself giving the reason that I would take 
pictures on a later day and that it was more important 
for the insemination process that they be in a rough and 
tumble in a natural environment without a photographer.

So the fortnight of her fertile period passed quickly 
with me sleeping at home only on few of those days. Our 
kitchen saw much activity and creativity during this 
period, and as the saying goes, Nikhole made her way 
permanently into my heart through my stomach. I put on 
15 pounds at least. Oh, yes, at the end of the period 
Nikhole announced that she had become pregnant. We had a 
family party. Nick proudly showed off Nikhole's tummy, 
and even autographed it with a marking pen. As a would-
be legal father I was cheered much with wine and words. 

The party ended with Nick carrying the would-be-mother 
to her bedroom to tuck her in. I guess I had a bit too 
much wine and I fell asleep, sort of rocked to sleep by 
the creaking of floorboards due to mother and sister 
walking about cleaning up the party mess.

I must say that Nikhole remained an ideal wife all 
through this period. She pampered me like she did when 
we were newly married. She was very affectionate, and 
held me and hugged me and kissed me all the time. She 
was genuinely proud of me for not being jealous because 
she was sleeping with and sexing with her brother-in-law 
Nick. She continued to confide in me her sex life as if 
I was her girlfriend. It felt like we were bosom friends 
in addition to being husband and wife. I had developed a 
good feeling towards Nick. I felt secure, strong and 
confident by his being around. I wondered why I had 
hated him so much before my wife enlightened and 
straightened me. 


CHAPTER 8: NURTURE IN AID OF NATURE

It had been two weeks since the celebration party. 
Having done his job, Nick had disappeared. Nikhole 
seemed to have forgotten him. Neither mother nor my 
sister mentioned his name in a couple of phone talks I 
had with them. It was a Saturday night. My wife and I 
were in bed. She took my hand and put it on her tummy 
like she had been doing every night since she had become 
pregnant, for me to feel the consecrated conception that 
was in there. In he sweet voice she whispered, "Fran, I 
have been thinking," opening a conversation. When a wife 
opens a conversation with such a phrase, husbands 
instinctively know they are about to become reoriented 
about something or someone. A good husband though, takes 
time to ponder on his wife's thinking before he admits 
to himself the merit of his new conviction.

"Thinking what?" I said. She continued, "Fran, do you 
know that nature and nurture are the twin factors in a 
child's development and growth?." No one can disagree 
with that, so I acknowledged with a simple, "Unhu." 

"Do you know that it is all nature before birth and 
mostly nurture after birth?" she persisted. "That sounds 
right," I agreed. 

"The baby in there," she put my palm on her tummy, "is 
all nature now, that is it has only biological 
consciousness. It is conscious in its every cell of its 
biological mother and father. It will acknowledge you 
its nurturing father only after birth if you bond 
yourself to it by feeding, changing, playing etc."

"That sounds scientific," I said not to get into any 
controversy in the bedroom."

"But when you put your hand on my tummy, the biology of 
the child senses that the hand is not of its biological 
father. It senses a stranger's hand and that does not 
give the kind of security it would get if the hand on 
the tummy was that of its biological father, would it?" 
she asked. There was a challenge in there for my 
academic mind to give the right answer.

I searched my brain as to what could be the correct 
answer. I was unable to find what would satisfy her. 
When a wife asks a question or opinion of a husband, she 
wants him to come out with her preferred answer that she 
has in her mind. For me, there was no point in defending 
the fort after it had been penetrated; no use locking 
the barn door after the mare has been laid. 

Who was it that said, 'When you are hit below the belt 
it's better to push your pants down and let it all 
hangout'. So, in response to her question I hazarded a 
wild answer, "The biological father too should rum his 
hand periodically on the tummy in question," I looked at 
her as I spoke to gauge her reaction to my answer. 

But spoken communication is slow. She had already 
received a faster non-verbal communication through the 
tactile sensation from her hand that fortuitously was on 
my small man, and the small man had gotten all excited 
for no reason. She was delighted by the spoken and 
unspoken words and complimented me, "No wonder you come 
up with the right solutions, you professor," she beamed. 

She lapsed into silence for a bit and said, "Yes, you 
are right. If the biological father slept with the 
biological mother, the biological child in the tummy 
would sense total security, that's what you are saying 
isn't it?" She had now put the balls in my court. Nicole 
is a smart and sharp lady. Her hand had gathered 
intelligence and interpreted the tactile sensations 
reaching it. She had mastered the art of us making joint 
decisions by non-flaccidity.

The decision having already been made in principal, I 
had to go on with its implementation logistics, "I could 
ask Nick to come and sleep here put his hand on your 
tummy." I also planted a doubt in her mind, "But he 
might be reluctant, it might disrupt his free floating 
life style." 

"Why wouldn't he? He gave me such good sex? I was all 
but in seventh heaven. And he himself enjoyed it so much 
that he wouldn't let me sleep much." Then she added with 
a concerned look at me, "You didn't mind, did you? Or 
feel threatened?" 

I was quick in denying, "Oh no, as they say, a thing of 
beauty is a joy of all." I went on to alley the doubt I 
had just raised, "You know, we could have guesstimated 
his reluctance or otherwise if we had some more data 
from your first physical examination of him. I continued 
to elucidate, "A man's bodily inclinations at a given 
time are good predictors of his behavioral tendencies at 
a later time."

"How do you mean, haven't I already given you all 
details of my observations from that phys exam?"

"Yes, you gave all your objective observations. But here 
I am talking about your subjective observations. For 
example, when a woman plants an admiring soft kiss on a 
stranger's manhood, the man's body inclines itself 
either forward or backward. The inclination may be very 
subtle, just a few millimeters. The same inclinations 
are evident if she were to wrap her lips around his 
penis head, in an act of homage to mankind in general or 
man in particular. If in both instances her subjective 
observation is one of forward inclinations, we can 
safely predict the man would respond positively to the 
idea of 'putting-his-hand-on-the-tummy' as you put it," 
I said.

"Yes, come to think of it, in both cases I think I 
sensed a slight forward inclination. Is that good?" she 
asked, moving her hand to me under the sheet. She must 
have seen the bulge under the sheet.

I felt relieved that the questions that were on my back 
burners had been answered at last. I said, "Yes, that is 
very good. It indicates a high probability that Nick may 
make house calls," I said. Her hand that had reached me 
where I like it best had told her as much. 

"Sister has way with him, and I shall let her talk to 
him, rather than you talking to him directly," She said. 
Women are indeed intuitive in these matters. 


CHAPTER 9: SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE CHILD? 

Nick started coming almost every day to place his hand 
on the mother's tummy. He ended up sleeping next to the 
biological baby still in the tummy, and giving his many 
benedictions to the biological mother. These 
benedictions made Nikhole feel like a woman in every 
cell of her body. As the tummy developed, I was roped in 
to put my hands also on the tummy along with the 
biological father. The king-size bed was large enough 
for all of us. The would-be mother felt very happy 
sleeping between the two would-be fathers. Sometimes she 
would ask me to kiss her tummy to show her how glad I 
was that she finally got knocked up by Nick. 

You know how it is, when you're in bed one thing leads 
to another. We started having a lot of fun before 
falling asleep all twisted and tangled. Nikhole had 
reasons to be happy. She was getting sex from Nick in a 
way I could only dream about. I was happy that she was 
happy. No siree, we didn't spare the rods to spoil the 
child. (I must say to her credit, she asked me first if 
I minded her and Nick sexing it up a bit while the fetus 
was on its way to become a baby; it was for keeping the 
biological connection with the baby she had said.) 

I will have to write a separate story describing all the 
fun we had. But a good story is one that stops before 
limpness sets in for the readers. So, suffice it to say 
that as the months progressed, Nikhole's stomach got 
bigger and bigger. 

Even though expected, it always amazed me to see how big 
she'd gotten by my brother's handiwork. (I was proud of 
him.) And she looked radiant like never before. When we 
were out and about she was the perfect adoring wife 
giving me all the credit for impregnating her. That 
really sent my self-esteem through the clouds even if it 
was only until we returned home. But it sufficed to keep 
my marriage not only intact but great. As I said before, 
the threesome at night was more fun than a barrel of 
monkeys. Nick with his longer and seemingly perennially 
hard shaft, had no problem reaching her from the back 
and side. 

Sometimes we reenacted the first fucking by Nick, with 
me guiding his boner into her. Sometimes I was 
challenged to parallel what they were doing with an 
imaginary partner. Sometimes I was blindfolded and asked 
to guess what they were doing in real time. Sometimes 
Nikhole reached inside my boxer shorts and held my 
little man in her hands while Nick sawed away at her 
cunt. Sometimes I got to tongue kiss Nikhole while he 
was checking her oil levels with his dipstick. 

Sometimes I rode piggyback on Nick and pretended it was 
my rod that had gone through Nick to her. On those 
occasions I also got a bird's eye view of Nikhole's face 
going through the emotions of excitement, pleasure, joy, 
bliss, ecstasy, and satisfaction.


CHAPTER X: BIRTH OF OUR SON WASHINGTON

Soon it was 'due date'. Nick had been coming in less and 
less after Nikhole got past the eighth month. He started 
going for bridge nights with Sis. Thus, he was not there 
when Nikhole had to be rushed to the hospital when she 
started dilating. 

"Breath honey, breath, that's right."

"OK, Nicole, push now, push hard," said the doctor. 
"That's right, here it comes. Push. I see the head. Come 
on, another pu..."

The doctor hesitated, then regained his composure. "Push 
Nicole, push." I heard the doctor stammer and looked up 
to see the nurses exchanging looks.

"What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Huh? Something's wrong? What?" Asked Nicole.

"Nothing," said the doctor. "Just one last push." Nicole 
grunted and pushed.

"There we go. A perfectly healthy little boy."

"Let me see," I said.

"Ah, well we have to wash him first and run some 
tests.." It was clear the doctor was trying to hide the 
child from me.

"Let me see, God damnit." I went around and looked at 
the baby the doctor was holding. I felt the blood drain 
from my face. I remember turning to stare at Nicole. I 
remember hearing her say, "Fran, what is it? Why are you 
looking at me like that?" I collapsed unconscious.

Later, I heard that frightened Nicole had asked the 
doctor, "What's wrong with my baby?" The doctor had 
simply handed her the baby, a brown baby with facial 
features that clearly proclaimed his mixed racial 
parentage. Nicole had started screaming hysterically. 
"That's not my baby. That's not my baby. What did you do 
with my baby? Francis, please Francis, this is a 
mistake. It has to be, Nickkkkkkkkkkkkk! It has to be! 
It has to be!!!

At that point she too fainted I believe. Mother who was 
there had also stormed out calling Nicole, bitch, slut 
and a whole lot of such other words.

Later, after she came from an extended stay at the 
hospital, Nicole had researched the biology of 
physiological inheritance - To be precise, Mendel's laws 
of inheritance. Then she accused mother of having had 
Nick from a black man; just that he happened to be one 
in a million case that exhibits only the mother's genes 
but carry the father's genes hidden or recessively, 
which may then show up in a later generation. 

The feud between the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law 
had gotten quite hot for a few days. I had been numb and 
dazed. The hospital had recorded the baby's name as 
Washington. May be they thought we would wash him and 
wash him to make him white! The social services 
department had arranged for a 24 nurse to stay home and 
nurse the baby as well as look after his physical 
safety.

Then things happened, you know, things that happen will 
happen anyhow, as you may read in a sequel. The most 
puzzling things do get unpuzzled if one thinks a bit, 
like the famous nine dot problem. I am sure you can 
think 'outside the box' and solve things for yourself 
rather than seek my help. 

Large hampers of baby formula and other stuff as well as 
flowers for the mother, mostly yellow roses, kept 
arriving everyday for months. We also got lots of baby 
sports equipment as gifts and samples from sports 
stores. Washington was quite a cute baby. He won us 
over.

I have to confess that I have been having deep thoughts 
lately. Really deep thoughts, upending thoughts. Jesus 
said a better man turns the other cheek when hit upon 
one cheek. Also, Jesus said, 'Do not covet thy 
neighbor's wife'. (But he did not say anything about 
husband's brother, or brother's wife, did he?) According 
to Jesus then, if another man hits on your wife, it is 
better to turn her over to him - all four lips and 
cheeks. 

It has also been said in all oily books that 'Man shall 
not fighteth another man for his wife. For, he hath 
inherited the Earth that is full of the wife-kind'. In 
the Eskimo book of Husbands, it is written that a good 
husband shall lendeth his woman to other men, for them 
to hold, to enjoy, to penetrate, and seed. The book 
advises husbands to instruct the wife to be joyous in 
such sex, and make the white milk spurt for world peace 
and harmony!

Looked at in a different way we can take an analogy from 
the Old West, where the Town Marshall deputized others, 
(a temporary conscription) and organized a posse. I was 
my own Town Marshall. I conscripted Nick. He was my 
posse for the pussy that wanted to get into trouble. 
Nicole would have been a 'girl in trouble' if it was not 
for my gentleman's ethics. 

Some of you readers may think I have fallen between the 
cracks in the story. And some of you may think that I 
failed to get into the crack. But I say unto you that it 
takes nobility of heart and mind to fall between the 
cracks. Didn't Gandhi teach that getting beaten by the 
big stick increases one's moral fiber? I am proud to say 
that my moral fiber has increased. Neither did I let 
wool be pulled over my eyes. I just took the wool and 
ate it! 

Don't companies and corporations continue to merge 
(across oceans and nations) and make common cause rather 
than compete with each other? They do so all the time. 
There is more profit in making a common cause. So Nicole 
and I invited Nick to make common cause with us. The 
notion of one-man one-vote has in a twisted way invaded 
the realm of man-woman relationship: It has become one-
wife one-husband. That is nonsense. Our modern society 
needs a paradigm shift in order to live a safe and sane 
sex life. 

If a man can love and sex more than one woman, as most 
kings, noblemen, and mythological characters have done 
through the ages, why shouldn't a woman be polyandrous 
and love and sex more than one man? Research is said to 
show that in polyandrous societies there is more 
domestic tranquility, and almost no harassment or 
nagging of husbands. A sexually satiated woman is a non-
nagging wife. Polyandry infuses us with the notion of 
caring-sharing. The sharing-caring elevates both him and 
her spiritually. It expands and stretches, among other 
things, one's notion of I, me, mine. It shrinks 
selfishness and makes it limp like a spent penis.

Through sharing of his woman, a husband learns to 
include more people in his love-net. In fact in the 
Hindu sacred epic Mahbharta, the heroine takes five 
husbands all at once. And she is one of the holy deities 
that modern Hindus of today venerate. Polyandry and 
polygamy makes society as a whole become a temptation 
island. That would make reality TV shows just mundane 
stuff not worth watching. So, polyandry has got to be a 
step in the right direction for universal 
brotherhood/sisterhood. It is a motherhood issue.

The moral of this story is that if you want to be a 
devoted loving loyal husband you have to accept your 
wife the way she is. True love wins over physical love 
every time. Some of you may be thinking that I am a 
cuckold, I have been cuckolded by my wife! It is not so, 
absolutely not! My wife has not humiliated me at any 
time with respect to sexing. In fact she has been giving 
me more affection and love. She respects my opinions and 
she takes me into confidence in any decision that 
affects us. 

A cuckold husband is one who likes to watch his wife sex 
it up with a stranger. I have not at any time watched my 
wife having sex with a stranger. A cuckold husband is 
one who makes his wife dress provocatively and takes her 
to bars and restaurants and makes her pick up a stranger 
to go home with to get fucked. That has not been the 
theme of my story, as you know. So, I am not a cuckold, 
just a bit old, that is all. 

I am a guy with a heart that is a bit larger and a penis 
that is a wee bit small and soft. You can't fault me for 
that. In fact, according to a survey done my Michael K. 
Smith that is supposedly archived, most men who love to 
read wife stories are like me. 

THE END

Comments may kindly be sent to Meiraj@sify.com

The story above is a sanitized variation on the story by 
C.D.E. Titled 'My Brother Made me a Cuckold' which is 
archived in the ASSTR collections. His stories can be 
seen at: http://www.asstr.org/~Kristen/cde/index.htm

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 17