Rumple Foreskin
The AH Patriarch
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2002
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The original version of this romance story was a one-page entry in the 2004 "Winter Holiday" writing contest here at Lit. What now faces you is an expanded (5300 word) version I'm hoping the folks at Phaze will relax their standards enough to use in the upcoming FROST anthology (deadline 09/01/07).
My chief worry with this first-person yarn is related to several current threads here at the SDC; is there too much narrative in the opening? If so, can the problem be remedied w/o rewriting the entire story?
Your sage wisdom, counsel, and advice on that issue and/or any other aspect of the story will be appreciated.
Rumple Foreskin
==
A Special Christmas Present
by Rumple Foreskin
My mother is always right, trust me. Not sometimes or most of the time, but always. Take last week, for instance. Thanks to her, I was, about halfway between Macy’s and totally broke, sitting alone in the mall’s noisy food-court while she finished shopping and getting her nails done, eating a tasteless salad, and wondering how I let her con me into getting dressed and driving into town to shop with her the day after Thanksgiving, the busiest shopping day of the year.
She was right, of course. Like I said, my mother is always right. To prove the point, I’d somehow managed to finish off my Christmas list. That’s good, since I’m going to be a little busy about then.
That shop-a-thon cost me more than just max’ed out credit cards. My back ached, my feet throbbed, and the rest of me felt tired, bloated and crappy. To be fair, all that started long before I hit the mall. Being eight months pregnant can do that to a girl.
Make that an unmarried, pregnant girl. Of course, I’m no girl either, although it does seem like I stopped growing a lot sooner than the owner’s manual told my parent’s to expect. In her infinite wisdom, Mother Nature decided five-foot nothing was more than enough for Becky Miller to handle. So there’s not a whole lot of me to pack around a baby that keeps getting bigger by the hour and seems anxious to climb out and look around.
It’s not like I didn’t know better. This baby will be my second. My first, Kylie, is two going on twenty-five and can’t wait to play with her baby brother. But knowing better and doing what’s smart isn’t the same thing. At least it isn’t for me, not after falling in love with someone I may never see again.
The baby’s daddy left the country not knowing I was pregnant or in love with him. And I wasn’t, in love that is, not at first.
We’d known each other forever. But then everybody knows everybody else out where we live. In high school, we fooled around a little, you know, making out in the back seat of cars, sneaking out of parties for a smoke, things like that. And once, at a college party, we both got wasted and did more than just make out.
But we never dated, even after that. Don’t ask me why. Maybe both of us wanted the other to make the first move. Anyway, at the end of that semester I sort of quit, sort of flunked out of school and married Stuart Litton.
A week before the wedding, Matt warned me about him. I said he sounded just like my mother, who claimed being a self-centered jerk was Stuart’s best feature. Like an idiot, I ignored them. Later that summer, Matt joined the service.
Both he and my mother were right about Stuart. Being married was a lot of fun, at first. But the fun and games became fewer and fewer as things went from bad, to worse, to dangerous. About this time last year, I came limping home with Kylie and a black eye. My self-centered jerk of a husband, gave me both.
To her credit, my mother hugged us, cried while I told my story, and never said, “I told you so.” What she did say was bad enough. Matt had been wounded while doing whatever it was he did. According to her, he really had come limping home a few days before with his left leg in a cast.
The next day, I drove over to his parent’s house with Kylie. After her usual two minutes of shyness, she was all over him. When I tried to stop her, he indicated it was all right. While tickling her belly, he gave me a quick glance, gestured at my eye, and mouthed, “Stuart?” I nodded. He grimaced, shook his head, and went back to tickling Kylie.
While they played, I studied Matt. Back in high school, he’d been a good-looking, all-everything jock with a boyish smile and teasing attitude that was just a little cocky. A lot of girls had serious crushes on him. The Matt I now saw, while still blonde and good-looking, was no boy.
The skin under his stubble wasn’t tan so much as a hard, weathered brown. There were tiny creases around the corners of his eyes. And once I noticed those familiar blue-eyes get this funny, distant look. Most of all, the cockiness was gone, replaced by an easy self-confidence.
In other words, he was a man—and I wanted him. It’d been a long time since I’d experienced that delicious flutter I now felt in my stomach. Way too long.
The next day, I called to tell him I was coming by with a special Christmas present just for him. It was a weekday. His parents would be at work. That meant we’d be alone and, if I had my way, soon making love.
I walked in through the back door, the way everyone in the country does. He was sitting on a stool in the kitchen next to an empty coffee cup, looking at the paper. He’d shaved, and it made him look more like the Matt I remembered. I’d worn my tightest jeans, but the old high school t-shirt he had on looked even tighter. If it hadn’t been for that damn cast I might have jumped him right then. As it was, he gave me this sexy grin that almost buckled my knees and asked in a teasing voice, “Hello, Becky. Now, what’d you bring me?”
“It’s a surprise. I hope you’ll like it,” I said, trying to remain calm while hurrying out of my new leather car coat and tossing it toward the nearest chair. I missed and decided it could stay on the floor.
“Sounds great,” he said. “So what’s my present?”
I stepped past the cast, put my arms around his neck and, in a voice I hoped sounded sexy, said, “Me. I’m your present.”
Just thinking about the kiss that followed can still turn me on. Matt’s upper body was bigger, harder, more muscular than I remembered. It explained why that old high school t-shirt was so tight. But his lips were soft and his tongue was so incredibly smooth and sexy.
If we never stopped kissing it would have been too soon for me, except if we didn’t get down to some serious loving in a big hurry, I was going to start making like Blanche Dubois and rip that damn t-shirt off him.
Matt’s lips brushed against mine and I heard him say, “Let’s go to the living room.”
My eyes popped open in surprise. “Not your bedroom?”
“Single bed,” he said, giving his cast an explanatory thump. We headed for the living room.
I remember grabbing a big afghan off the couch and spreading it out on the carpet. The next thing I recall was Matt interrupting a very thorough job of licking and sucking my nipples to look up at me. "Becky Miller, you do have the most delectable boobs.”
By then my sweater and bra were off and I was sure my jeans and panties were about to follow them. A few small logs burned in the nearby fireplace. The lights on the big Christmas tree were turned on. Just like me.
I stroked his short, blonde hair and grinned. "Don’t give me that, crap. We both know I'm an original member of the Itty Bitty Titty Club.”
"Size don't mean jack-shit. I’ve always told you that." Matt circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue and I shivered with pleasure. "Quality means a lot more that quantity. Believe me, yours are first-rate. In fact, while these prime samples of female flesh may not be the biggest, they are, without doubt, still the finest pair I've ever had the pleasure of enjoying."
I don’t mind having small breasts. In fact, I prefer mine to the big udders most guys seem to go nuts over. That’s just as well. Even after having Kylie, there was little change in mine. At most, they went from hard-fried eggs to sunny-side up. Matt’s gentle teasing and compliments reminded me how sweet he could be, and how much I wanted him.
"If that’s what you think, then there’s more than just your leg that needs attention. Lay back and let me deliver the rest of your Christmas present."
Matt grinned, and reached for my jeans. “Well, if you insist. But you’re way too overdressed for gift giving.”
That problem was soon corrected. Wearing nothing but an eager smile, I knelt beside him and pulled off that damn tight shirt. After that, I helped him roll over onto his back.
We paused to touch and look at one another. To my surprise I didn’t feel self-conscious, perhaps because I was too fascinated by his body. There was a scar I’d never seen before on his shoulder. When I asked about it, he shrugged and said he fell.
I leaned over and kissed him. It was another good one, but nowhere near enough. I covered his face with kisses and nibbled on his ears and neck. After giving that scar a long kiss, I worked my way down his hard torso, taking my time and sampling various parts along the way. When my lips reached the waistband of his sweats, I found myself starring past it at a very big bulge and feeling this incredible sexual rush.
With that cast in the way, getting those sweats off became a two-person operation. Even with his help, it wasn’t easy. The first couple of times I tried to tug them down, they caught on that bulge. Not until I untied the drawstring and lifted the waistband was I able to expose the problem, so to speak.
His cock was long and thick and bobbing in anticipation. I bent over and ran my tongue up the hard shaft, then slipped my lips around the smooth head and took my time sucking it into my mouth. After a few slow trips up and down the shaft, I picked up speed while taking all I could and, for a change, loving every last inch.
I’d zoned out by then, so it took a second to tune in on his voice. I could tell he was struggling to keep it calm. “This is, uh, in-fucking-credible. The thing is, unless you want a messy snack, you better back off. Climb on top and we’ll finish together."
It was a sweet, even considerate, suggestion. But this was fun. I removed the glistening cock from my mouth and licked the smooth head like an ice cream cone. Then I cut my eyes up at him and winked. “Thanks, but I really don't mind the taste, well, not too much. So, I think I'll finish what I've started. Besides, I've never done it that way, you know, on top."
"Are you shitting me?”
"I shit you not," I said, between long licks.
"But all those guys you dated, and that jerk you married?” Matt and I had always been confidants. There were few secrets between us. He knew I never cheated on any of my boyfriends but the rest of the time, well, that was different.
"The back seat of a car kinda limits your possibilities. And Stuart’s the macho type who always wants to be in charge."
"Damn. I warned you he was a running dumb-ass. Come on up here, lady, and let me teach you a thing or two."
With Matt's encouragement and help, I managed to straddle his middle, only to jump right off and wrap the cast in his sweats. That thing could hurt.
Once back on top and in position, I slowly lowered my bottom, savoring the feel of his cock burrowing into me. The further I sank, the deeper it penetrated. When the last few inches slid into place, I let out a sigh of total pleasure. Damn, but that felt so good.
We stayed still at first, sharing the sensation, then Matt began rocking his hips as much as the cast would allow, driving even deeper inside me. I responded to the pressure by leaning forward, putting my hands on his shoulders, and pressing my hips down to meet his upward thrusts.
Either Matt’s a great teacher, or I’m a quick learner. Maybe both. I was soon setting the pace, pumping up and down his long, hard shaft and loving every minute of this new experience.
My body raced toward a much needed orgasm. When it struck, I jerked upright, then gasped at the sudden pressure inside my pussy and tried to lean forward. Matt caught me and pushed me back. He cupped my breasts, squeezing them and twisting the nipples while forcing me to stay erect.
Maybe it was the position, but one climax followed another. My body seemed to contract around Matt’s unyielding cock as I moaned in pure animal bliss. After that, I’m not sure what happened, although at some point, I heard a strangled grunt and felt the warm flood of Matt erupting somewhere deep inside me.
For a few, perfect moments, we were frozen in a lover's knot of passion and release. Then we both collapsed and I pitched forward onto his chest. It was a good place to be, and I was content to stay there, feeling his heartbeat slow while my body moved to the rhythm of his breathing.
Matt broke the silence. “Personally, I think you look a lot more like a cute elf than old Santa Claus. But I do love your Christmas present and the way you delivered it.”
After that we were together almost every day. Since his parents both worked, it was at his home most of the time, although we did go out on dates. I’m sure everybody in town figured they knew what was going on between us. After all, everyone in our town not only knows everyone else they usually have a pretty good idea what their fellow citizens are doing. But I never heard of anyone so much as raising an eyebrow, much less objecting. That included our parents. In fact, I think they, like everyone else, approved.
Still, Matt and I knew it was just a brief affair, nothing more. He would return to the service, I’d go back to college. No strings attached. That’s how it’d always been between us. That’s how I thought it’d always be.
Then I fell in love with him. It’d been coming on for some time, but I wouldn’t admit what I was feeling. All that ended the night he beat-up Stuart, my soon-to-be ex-husband who had beaten me up, twice.
It was right after the divorce papers were filed. We were at a club with some friends. Matt still had his cast on, so we were just listened to the band while the others danced.
That’s when Stuart came over to our booth and started carrying on. Matt never moved, just told Stuart, who was trying to lean over him to get closer to me, that he should leave. When Stuart ignored him and kept yelling at me, Matt hit him several times, real fast, just how and where I’m not sure. Stuart let out this funny, gurgling noise and sank to his knees beside our table.
Matt put a hand on Stuart’s shoulder and must have done something, because I saw Stuart grimace. Then Matt pulled him a little closer, and asked, in this dead-calm voice, if he was ever going to bother me again. Stuart’s a big guy and, believe me, he’s strong. But I could see fear in his eyes as he mumbled, no.
“That’s good,” said Matt. “Cause if you do, next time will be for real.”
From then on, I was hooked. All my life, I’d felt in total control around men. It’s not my looks. I’m no great beauty, but most guys don’t seem to notice. I’d like to think it’s my eyes, and smile. Maybe those do play a part. But mostly it’s my butt and the fact I’m a total flirt.
All that ended when Stuart beat me up. After that, especially the second time, the last time, when he started for Kylie’s room before I got him to turn back on me, I would get this panicky feeling around some men. Not with Matt, of course, and after that night at the bar, not at all when we were together. Then I was my old self again, feeling safe, confidant, and in love, big time.
I’d always liked Matt, now I loved him. My problem was how to convince him he loved me.
The following week I drove him to the nearest Army post to have his leg checked. Afterward, he came out with a new cast that only covered his leg from the knee down. It was still awkward, but a huge improvement.
We stopped on the way home and made love. It was great. He could be on top without any problem. I loved it, and I loved him.
But when we got home, he told me he wasn’t just going back to the service. The Army had cleared him to go back to wherever he’d been when wounded. He felt responsible for the deaths of two friends. “I trusted someone who betrayed us. My friends are dead. He’s still there.”
I thought I was going to have a breakdown. This wasn’t fair. What scared me most was the absolute certainty he didn’t give a damn whether he lived or died, just so long as he killed that other person first.
The only thing that seemed to give him any second thoughts was my reminder that he was an only child. I begged him to think of what his death would mean to his family. But I knew he wouldn’t budge and that I might never see him again.
After Christmas, he went back to the service to spend some time at a desk job while getting his leg in shape and preparing to return to his old assignment. Meanwhile, I re-enrolled in college, waited for him to come home on leave before shipping out, and went over my very limited options. My mind kept telling me he’d be okay. But in my heart, I knew his next trip home could be the last time we’d ever be together.
That’s why I decided that, while I might never have him, maybe I could have his baby. I know it sounds crazy, but I wasn’t doing it just for me. If he didn’t come back, his parents, who I dearly love, would at least have his grandchild. Maybe that would ease their grief, make that, our grief.
So when he flew in on a two-week leave prior to going back to wherever the hell that other guy was, I met him at the airport with a big smile, and a body that was all his and free of any trace of birth control pills.
Instead of driving home, we headed for the swankiest hotel in town. The moment the door to our suite closed, Matt wrapped me in his arms and we kissed.
When our lips parted, I gave him my best, coy smile. "Do you mind me not bringing you a welcome back present?”
"Oh, but you did," he said, gently squeezing my bottom. "I was the envy of every guy in the airport."
We kissed again, but this time his hands went to work on my clothes. I’d worn a white silk blouse as a halter-top. He untied the knot holding it together. When it fell open, he cupped my breasts and I shivered with pleasure. He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth. It was like his lips were touching my entire body.
Just when I thought I could take no more, Matt began using his tongue to trace an erotic path down toward my stomach. He knelt and teased my belly button while unzipping the very short shorts I’d picked out just for him the week before. Moments later, I felt them slid down my legs.
He watched them fall, then let his gaze travel up my body. I’d worn no underwear, thinking that might seem extra sexy. The look on his face told me it was. I stroked his short blonde hair. The gesture seemed to break his trance. Still kneeling, he tugged off my platform shoes and then pressed his head against my quivering stomach. "Damn, but I've missed you."
The emotion in the voice of this man I loved so much had me fighting back tears. I tried to pull his head even tighter against me. "And I've missed you. Oh God, how I've missed you."
The next thing I know, Matt is standing with one very startled Becky Miller cradled in his arms. "Matt, what are you doing?”
He gave me that smile I never could resist. "Can’t take a chance on you getting lost on your way to bed."
To be held in the arms of the man you love while he carries you to the bed where the two of you will make love and you may, with luck, become pregnant with his child, it was beyond erotic and so damn romantic.
After lowering me onto the bed, Matt followed me down until his fully clothed body pressed firmly against mine. A hard, fabric covered bulge pushed against me, sending jolts of sexual pleasure racing through me.
With a feeling of total contentment, I wrapped my arms around Matt, relishing the feel of his big, powerful body. We kissed for what seemed like hours. It was body-to-body, lips-to-lips, man-to-woman. Our tongues, lips, teeth, and mouths fused into a single organ of love and need.
Matt broke the kiss and, moments later, was positioned astride my middle. He didn’t say anything, just looked into my eyes as he removed his shirt.
While he tugged at his t-shirt, I began fumbling with his belt. But it was one of those strange military ones. Before I could figure it out he got off me and stood by the side of the bed. The rest of his clothes were soon in a pile on the floor.
The look on his face left no doubt what he wanted. That look, and the sight of his muscular body with its broad chest, powerful thighs and swollen cock, was way too much for me to resist. With a shudder of anticipation, I reached out for what was about to give me the passion, the pleasure, and maybe even the baby, I so desperately wanted.
Matt slid into bed and our nude bodies touched. Once again, he pressed his lips against mine while his fingers roamed over the contours of my breasts, hips, and then my thighs. When his hand slid up and took possession of my pussy, I heard myself gasp and felt my body arch up to meet his touch.
All of my senses were alive. The feel of Matt's fingers, the taste of his lips, the sight of his blatant need, the clean, masculine aroma of his flesh, even the sound of his breathing was intoxicating. After a last kiss, he began feasting on my flesh like a starving man gorging himself at a banquet.
He took his time on my breasts and throbbing nipples until I was on the verge of an orgasm. But then he stopped and began kissing his way down until he was nibbling on my oh, so sensitive inner thighs.
In one slow, smooth motion his tongue teased its way up from there until it slipped inside by pussy. It felt so damn good. Still, I wanted more. I wanted, needed, to be totally possessed by this man.
We’d been apart for what seemed like ages. No way I could wait any longer. I practically begged him, "Now Matt. I need you, now."
He looked up and studied my face, then nodded. Once again, I experienced that deliciously erotic moment when the tip of his cock touched me. Then he paused with it waiting at the opening to my churning pussy. After one more kiss, we surged towards one another and our two bodies melded into one being.
We were soon working together in a harmony of love and passion. The familiar feel of Matt's hard cock inside me was pure joy. There was no world but that room and that bed; no other time other than that incredible moment. Most of all, there was no man other than Matt, the man I loved, the man I’d missed, the man who was now taking me towards the brink of total ecstasy.
Desire, need, lust, longing, plus a totally unrestrained love pounded through every fiber of my heaving, writhing form. By then, I’d even stopped thinking about getting pregnant. I wanted nothing more than to keep making love with Matt for the rest of the day and then for the rest of my life.
The moment Matt entered me I’d begun building toward an orgasm that, when it erupted, was long, awesome, and left me tingling. Though stunned by the exquisite ecstasy, my hips kept moving in rhythm to his movements.
My climax seemed to trigger Matt’s. He began slamming into me with savage thrusts as I held him tight and savored the moment. He let out a loud groan and buried himself deep inside my hot, convulsing pussy. I luxuriated in the feel of his thick shaft throbbing as he filled me with his seed.
Afterward, we lay together, Matt still inside me, our moist bodies entwined in a lover's knot. We’d soon be making love again. But for now, he seemed sated, tired, and content. I was all of those, plus incredibly happy. Don’t ask me how, but I was certain I’d just become pregnant.
Now, eight months later, I don’t know if Matt’s alive or if he’s, if he’s not. It’s been ages since I heard from him. He warned me that might happen. Still, if he could, wouldn’t he…?
For about the millionth time since he left, I reminded myself that while I might not have Matt, at least I had his child, his son. “Matthew Hampton, Jr.,” I whispered, smiling at the sound. But then I heard myself continuing, “only child of the late Matt Hampton,” and start crying.
“This seat taken?” I didn’t look up, just shook my head and kept searching for a napkin.
Someone pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “Is the food here that bad, or are you just sad to see me?”
Who the hell was that idiot? I turn—and I’m staring at someone who looked just like, Matt Hampton. For maybe the first time in my life, I’m speechless. Just breathing was hard enough. Before I could think of something to say, he leaned over and kissed me. It was soft and gentle, and seemed to last forever, which was still way too short for me.
Nothing made any sense. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled. “Glad to see you, too, Miss Miller.”
Then it registered. “You’re alive!” I threw my arms around his neck, bury my face against his chest, and really start bawling.
At first I didn’t want to look up. The face I saw might not be Matt’s. It could all be a dream. But then I recognized the hardness of his body, his special smell, and his gentle touch as he stroked my hair.
When I do dare to look, all I can think to say is, “Really, what happened?”
“I quit.”
“You can’t just quit—can you?”
“My mission was accomplished. My time was about up. I told the bosses I had personal business to attend to, and just sort of quit.”
“Am I that personal business?”
“Damn straight. I got a message a few weeks ago from old Dad. Don’t ask how. Anyway, he filled me in on how things have been, well, developing since I left. He said you were way too good for me, and that while there may have been a few bastards in our family, they were all self-made men, not accidents of birth.”
“He shouldn’t have done that. This was no accident,” I said, touching my belly. “I don’t want you here because you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t, honest. I’m, I’m just…“ To my amazement, Matt looked away, but not before I saw a tear roll down his cheek. After a moment, he wiped a hand down his face. Then he turned back and gestured toward my protruding middle. “You love me that much?”
“I do.”
Once again, he looks away and then turns back. “Maybe I’ve always loved you. I don’t know—could have just been teenage lust, I suppose. But the moment you and Kylie walked into the house last year, I was hooked. And that was a problem.”
“What problem?”
Matt’s smile came back as he took my hands in his. “The problem of my going back. We went over all that and you were right about my being selfish. But it was something I had to do. The thing is, I didn’t want to leave you with a bunch of promises and, to be honest, I didn’t want thoughts of you waiting for me messing up my mind.
“Dad understood and didn’t let me know about you and the baby until after it was all over. That part took a lot longer than I’d counted on, but he was right to wait. Because since then, you and the baby and Kylie and just life itself, that’s all I can think about. So I had to get out. I want life now, not more death, and it’s because of you, because I love you. God, how I love you. Becky, will you please marry me?”
For the second time in my life I was speechless. All I could do was grin and nod. Then we’re hugging and I’m crying all the while grinning like a kid on Christmas. We kissed, and it made the first one seem like a chaste peck on the cheek. When we came up for air, I patted my very big belly. “I’m afraid it won’t be much of a honeymoon.”
“That’s all right. I’m counting on having a long life to make up for lost time. When’s the baby due?”
“Well, if your son will wait that long, around Christmas.”
“A boy, around Christmas.” He seemed pleased with the idea. “And we’re not even Jewish.”
“You’re an idiot. But I do love you.”
“And I love you, too. Always will. Remember last Christmas, when we first made love and I said I liked your presents and the way you delivered them? Well, I still do.” He pauses as his big hands gently caress my belly. “It’s just that I never counted on such a special Christmas present this year.”
Naturally, I started crying even harder and pressed his hands tighter against me. The baby picked that moment to kick. Matt laughed, then stood and helped me out of my chair. “I believe we’ve just gotten a not too subtle hint from our son to get moving on this marrying business. Where’s the nearest jewelry store? We need to buy some rings.”
“Wait. My mother will be back soon. We need to wait for her.”
“No problem. I called last night to say I was coming in, but you were giving Kylie a bath. Your mother answered the phone and told me to take a cab from the airport to the mall and meet you in the food court. She said we might want some time alone to talk things over and that she’d show up later.”
As always, my mother had been right. And for once, I was very, very glad.
My chief worry with this first-person yarn is related to several current threads here at the SDC; is there too much narrative in the opening? If so, can the problem be remedied w/o rewriting the entire story?
Your sage wisdom, counsel, and advice on that issue and/or any other aspect of the story will be appreciated.
Rumple Foreskin
==
A Special Christmas Present
by Rumple Foreskin
My mother is always right, trust me. Not sometimes or most of the time, but always. Take last week, for instance. Thanks to her, I was, about halfway between Macy’s and totally broke, sitting alone in the mall’s noisy food-court while she finished shopping and getting her nails done, eating a tasteless salad, and wondering how I let her con me into getting dressed and driving into town to shop with her the day after Thanksgiving, the busiest shopping day of the year.
She was right, of course. Like I said, my mother is always right. To prove the point, I’d somehow managed to finish off my Christmas list. That’s good, since I’m going to be a little busy about then.
That shop-a-thon cost me more than just max’ed out credit cards. My back ached, my feet throbbed, and the rest of me felt tired, bloated and crappy. To be fair, all that started long before I hit the mall. Being eight months pregnant can do that to a girl.
Make that an unmarried, pregnant girl. Of course, I’m no girl either, although it does seem like I stopped growing a lot sooner than the owner’s manual told my parent’s to expect. In her infinite wisdom, Mother Nature decided five-foot nothing was more than enough for Becky Miller to handle. So there’s not a whole lot of me to pack around a baby that keeps getting bigger by the hour and seems anxious to climb out and look around.
It’s not like I didn’t know better. This baby will be my second. My first, Kylie, is two going on twenty-five and can’t wait to play with her baby brother. But knowing better and doing what’s smart isn’t the same thing. At least it isn’t for me, not after falling in love with someone I may never see again.
The baby’s daddy left the country not knowing I was pregnant or in love with him. And I wasn’t, in love that is, not at first.
We’d known each other forever. But then everybody knows everybody else out where we live. In high school, we fooled around a little, you know, making out in the back seat of cars, sneaking out of parties for a smoke, things like that. And once, at a college party, we both got wasted and did more than just make out.
But we never dated, even after that. Don’t ask me why. Maybe both of us wanted the other to make the first move. Anyway, at the end of that semester I sort of quit, sort of flunked out of school and married Stuart Litton.
A week before the wedding, Matt warned me about him. I said he sounded just like my mother, who claimed being a self-centered jerk was Stuart’s best feature. Like an idiot, I ignored them. Later that summer, Matt joined the service.
Both he and my mother were right about Stuart. Being married was a lot of fun, at first. But the fun and games became fewer and fewer as things went from bad, to worse, to dangerous. About this time last year, I came limping home with Kylie and a black eye. My self-centered jerk of a husband, gave me both.
To her credit, my mother hugged us, cried while I told my story, and never said, “I told you so.” What she did say was bad enough. Matt had been wounded while doing whatever it was he did. According to her, he really had come limping home a few days before with his left leg in a cast.
The next day, I drove over to his parent’s house with Kylie. After her usual two minutes of shyness, she was all over him. When I tried to stop her, he indicated it was all right. While tickling her belly, he gave me a quick glance, gestured at my eye, and mouthed, “Stuart?” I nodded. He grimaced, shook his head, and went back to tickling Kylie.
While they played, I studied Matt. Back in high school, he’d been a good-looking, all-everything jock with a boyish smile and teasing attitude that was just a little cocky. A lot of girls had serious crushes on him. The Matt I now saw, while still blonde and good-looking, was no boy.
The skin under his stubble wasn’t tan so much as a hard, weathered brown. There were tiny creases around the corners of his eyes. And once I noticed those familiar blue-eyes get this funny, distant look. Most of all, the cockiness was gone, replaced by an easy self-confidence.
In other words, he was a man—and I wanted him. It’d been a long time since I’d experienced that delicious flutter I now felt in my stomach. Way too long.
The next day, I called to tell him I was coming by with a special Christmas present just for him. It was a weekday. His parents would be at work. That meant we’d be alone and, if I had my way, soon making love.
I walked in through the back door, the way everyone in the country does. He was sitting on a stool in the kitchen next to an empty coffee cup, looking at the paper. He’d shaved, and it made him look more like the Matt I remembered. I’d worn my tightest jeans, but the old high school t-shirt he had on looked even tighter. If it hadn’t been for that damn cast I might have jumped him right then. As it was, he gave me this sexy grin that almost buckled my knees and asked in a teasing voice, “Hello, Becky. Now, what’d you bring me?”
“It’s a surprise. I hope you’ll like it,” I said, trying to remain calm while hurrying out of my new leather car coat and tossing it toward the nearest chair. I missed and decided it could stay on the floor.
“Sounds great,” he said. “So what’s my present?”
I stepped past the cast, put my arms around his neck and, in a voice I hoped sounded sexy, said, “Me. I’m your present.”
Just thinking about the kiss that followed can still turn me on. Matt’s upper body was bigger, harder, more muscular than I remembered. It explained why that old high school t-shirt was so tight. But his lips were soft and his tongue was so incredibly smooth and sexy.
If we never stopped kissing it would have been too soon for me, except if we didn’t get down to some serious loving in a big hurry, I was going to start making like Blanche Dubois and rip that damn t-shirt off him.
Matt’s lips brushed against mine and I heard him say, “Let’s go to the living room.”
My eyes popped open in surprise. “Not your bedroom?”
“Single bed,” he said, giving his cast an explanatory thump. We headed for the living room.
I remember grabbing a big afghan off the couch and spreading it out on the carpet. The next thing I recall was Matt interrupting a very thorough job of licking and sucking my nipples to look up at me. "Becky Miller, you do have the most delectable boobs.”
By then my sweater and bra were off and I was sure my jeans and panties were about to follow them. A few small logs burned in the nearby fireplace. The lights on the big Christmas tree were turned on. Just like me.
I stroked his short, blonde hair and grinned. "Don’t give me that, crap. We both know I'm an original member of the Itty Bitty Titty Club.”
"Size don't mean jack-shit. I’ve always told you that." Matt circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue and I shivered with pleasure. "Quality means a lot more that quantity. Believe me, yours are first-rate. In fact, while these prime samples of female flesh may not be the biggest, they are, without doubt, still the finest pair I've ever had the pleasure of enjoying."
I don’t mind having small breasts. In fact, I prefer mine to the big udders most guys seem to go nuts over. That’s just as well. Even after having Kylie, there was little change in mine. At most, they went from hard-fried eggs to sunny-side up. Matt’s gentle teasing and compliments reminded me how sweet he could be, and how much I wanted him.
"If that’s what you think, then there’s more than just your leg that needs attention. Lay back and let me deliver the rest of your Christmas present."
Matt grinned, and reached for my jeans. “Well, if you insist. But you’re way too overdressed for gift giving.”
That problem was soon corrected. Wearing nothing but an eager smile, I knelt beside him and pulled off that damn tight shirt. After that, I helped him roll over onto his back.
We paused to touch and look at one another. To my surprise I didn’t feel self-conscious, perhaps because I was too fascinated by his body. There was a scar I’d never seen before on his shoulder. When I asked about it, he shrugged and said he fell.
I leaned over and kissed him. It was another good one, but nowhere near enough. I covered his face with kisses and nibbled on his ears and neck. After giving that scar a long kiss, I worked my way down his hard torso, taking my time and sampling various parts along the way. When my lips reached the waistband of his sweats, I found myself starring past it at a very big bulge and feeling this incredible sexual rush.
With that cast in the way, getting those sweats off became a two-person operation. Even with his help, it wasn’t easy. The first couple of times I tried to tug them down, they caught on that bulge. Not until I untied the drawstring and lifted the waistband was I able to expose the problem, so to speak.
His cock was long and thick and bobbing in anticipation. I bent over and ran my tongue up the hard shaft, then slipped my lips around the smooth head and took my time sucking it into my mouth. After a few slow trips up and down the shaft, I picked up speed while taking all I could and, for a change, loving every last inch.
I’d zoned out by then, so it took a second to tune in on his voice. I could tell he was struggling to keep it calm. “This is, uh, in-fucking-credible. The thing is, unless you want a messy snack, you better back off. Climb on top and we’ll finish together."
It was a sweet, even considerate, suggestion. But this was fun. I removed the glistening cock from my mouth and licked the smooth head like an ice cream cone. Then I cut my eyes up at him and winked. “Thanks, but I really don't mind the taste, well, not too much. So, I think I'll finish what I've started. Besides, I've never done it that way, you know, on top."
"Are you shitting me?”
"I shit you not," I said, between long licks.
"But all those guys you dated, and that jerk you married?” Matt and I had always been confidants. There were few secrets between us. He knew I never cheated on any of my boyfriends but the rest of the time, well, that was different.
"The back seat of a car kinda limits your possibilities. And Stuart’s the macho type who always wants to be in charge."
"Damn. I warned you he was a running dumb-ass. Come on up here, lady, and let me teach you a thing or two."
With Matt's encouragement and help, I managed to straddle his middle, only to jump right off and wrap the cast in his sweats. That thing could hurt.
Once back on top and in position, I slowly lowered my bottom, savoring the feel of his cock burrowing into me. The further I sank, the deeper it penetrated. When the last few inches slid into place, I let out a sigh of total pleasure. Damn, but that felt so good.
We stayed still at first, sharing the sensation, then Matt began rocking his hips as much as the cast would allow, driving even deeper inside me. I responded to the pressure by leaning forward, putting my hands on his shoulders, and pressing my hips down to meet his upward thrusts.
Either Matt’s a great teacher, or I’m a quick learner. Maybe both. I was soon setting the pace, pumping up and down his long, hard shaft and loving every minute of this new experience.
My body raced toward a much needed orgasm. When it struck, I jerked upright, then gasped at the sudden pressure inside my pussy and tried to lean forward. Matt caught me and pushed me back. He cupped my breasts, squeezing them and twisting the nipples while forcing me to stay erect.
Maybe it was the position, but one climax followed another. My body seemed to contract around Matt’s unyielding cock as I moaned in pure animal bliss. After that, I’m not sure what happened, although at some point, I heard a strangled grunt and felt the warm flood of Matt erupting somewhere deep inside me.
For a few, perfect moments, we were frozen in a lover's knot of passion and release. Then we both collapsed and I pitched forward onto his chest. It was a good place to be, and I was content to stay there, feeling his heartbeat slow while my body moved to the rhythm of his breathing.
Matt broke the silence. “Personally, I think you look a lot more like a cute elf than old Santa Claus. But I do love your Christmas present and the way you delivered it.”
After that we were together almost every day. Since his parents both worked, it was at his home most of the time, although we did go out on dates. I’m sure everybody in town figured they knew what was going on between us. After all, everyone in our town not only knows everyone else they usually have a pretty good idea what their fellow citizens are doing. But I never heard of anyone so much as raising an eyebrow, much less objecting. That included our parents. In fact, I think they, like everyone else, approved.
Still, Matt and I knew it was just a brief affair, nothing more. He would return to the service, I’d go back to college. No strings attached. That’s how it’d always been between us. That’s how I thought it’d always be.
Then I fell in love with him. It’d been coming on for some time, but I wouldn’t admit what I was feeling. All that ended the night he beat-up Stuart, my soon-to-be ex-husband who had beaten me up, twice.
It was right after the divorce papers were filed. We were at a club with some friends. Matt still had his cast on, so we were just listened to the band while the others danced.
That’s when Stuart came over to our booth and started carrying on. Matt never moved, just told Stuart, who was trying to lean over him to get closer to me, that he should leave. When Stuart ignored him and kept yelling at me, Matt hit him several times, real fast, just how and where I’m not sure. Stuart let out this funny, gurgling noise and sank to his knees beside our table.
Matt put a hand on Stuart’s shoulder and must have done something, because I saw Stuart grimace. Then Matt pulled him a little closer, and asked, in this dead-calm voice, if he was ever going to bother me again. Stuart’s a big guy and, believe me, he’s strong. But I could see fear in his eyes as he mumbled, no.
“That’s good,” said Matt. “Cause if you do, next time will be for real.”
From then on, I was hooked. All my life, I’d felt in total control around men. It’s not my looks. I’m no great beauty, but most guys don’t seem to notice. I’d like to think it’s my eyes, and smile. Maybe those do play a part. But mostly it’s my butt and the fact I’m a total flirt.
All that ended when Stuart beat me up. After that, especially the second time, the last time, when he started for Kylie’s room before I got him to turn back on me, I would get this panicky feeling around some men. Not with Matt, of course, and after that night at the bar, not at all when we were together. Then I was my old self again, feeling safe, confidant, and in love, big time.
I’d always liked Matt, now I loved him. My problem was how to convince him he loved me.
The following week I drove him to the nearest Army post to have his leg checked. Afterward, he came out with a new cast that only covered his leg from the knee down. It was still awkward, but a huge improvement.
We stopped on the way home and made love. It was great. He could be on top without any problem. I loved it, and I loved him.
But when we got home, he told me he wasn’t just going back to the service. The Army had cleared him to go back to wherever he’d been when wounded. He felt responsible for the deaths of two friends. “I trusted someone who betrayed us. My friends are dead. He’s still there.”
I thought I was going to have a breakdown. This wasn’t fair. What scared me most was the absolute certainty he didn’t give a damn whether he lived or died, just so long as he killed that other person first.
The only thing that seemed to give him any second thoughts was my reminder that he was an only child. I begged him to think of what his death would mean to his family. But I knew he wouldn’t budge and that I might never see him again.
After Christmas, he went back to the service to spend some time at a desk job while getting his leg in shape and preparing to return to his old assignment. Meanwhile, I re-enrolled in college, waited for him to come home on leave before shipping out, and went over my very limited options. My mind kept telling me he’d be okay. But in my heart, I knew his next trip home could be the last time we’d ever be together.
That’s why I decided that, while I might never have him, maybe I could have his baby. I know it sounds crazy, but I wasn’t doing it just for me. If he didn’t come back, his parents, who I dearly love, would at least have his grandchild. Maybe that would ease their grief, make that, our grief.
So when he flew in on a two-week leave prior to going back to wherever the hell that other guy was, I met him at the airport with a big smile, and a body that was all his and free of any trace of birth control pills.
Instead of driving home, we headed for the swankiest hotel in town. The moment the door to our suite closed, Matt wrapped me in his arms and we kissed.
When our lips parted, I gave him my best, coy smile. "Do you mind me not bringing you a welcome back present?”
"Oh, but you did," he said, gently squeezing my bottom. "I was the envy of every guy in the airport."
We kissed again, but this time his hands went to work on my clothes. I’d worn a white silk blouse as a halter-top. He untied the knot holding it together. When it fell open, he cupped my breasts and I shivered with pleasure. He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth. It was like his lips were touching my entire body.
Just when I thought I could take no more, Matt began using his tongue to trace an erotic path down toward my stomach. He knelt and teased my belly button while unzipping the very short shorts I’d picked out just for him the week before. Moments later, I felt them slid down my legs.
He watched them fall, then let his gaze travel up my body. I’d worn no underwear, thinking that might seem extra sexy. The look on his face told me it was. I stroked his short blonde hair. The gesture seemed to break his trance. Still kneeling, he tugged off my platform shoes and then pressed his head against my quivering stomach. "Damn, but I've missed you."
The emotion in the voice of this man I loved so much had me fighting back tears. I tried to pull his head even tighter against me. "And I've missed you. Oh God, how I've missed you."
The next thing I know, Matt is standing with one very startled Becky Miller cradled in his arms. "Matt, what are you doing?”
He gave me that smile I never could resist. "Can’t take a chance on you getting lost on your way to bed."
To be held in the arms of the man you love while he carries you to the bed where the two of you will make love and you may, with luck, become pregnant with his child, it was beyond erotic and so damn romantic.
After lowering me onto the bed, Matt followed me down until his fully clothed body pressed firmly against mine. A hard, fabric covered bulge pushed against me, sending jolts of sexual pleasure racing through me.
With a feeling of total contentment, I wrapped my arms around Matt, relishing the feel of his big, powerful body. We kissed for what seemed like hours. It was body-to-body, lips-to-lips, man-to-woman. Our tongues, lips, teeth, and mouths fused into a single organ of love and need.
Matt broke the kiss and, moments later, was positioned astride my middle. He didn’t say anything, just looked into my eyes as he removed his shirt.
While he tugged at his t-shirt, I began fumbling with his belt. But it was one of those strange military ones. Before I could figure it out he got off me and stood by the side of the bed. The rest of his clothes were soon in a pile on the floor.
The look on his face left no doubt what he wanted. That look, and the sight of his muscular body with its broad chest, powerful thighs and swollen cock, was way too much for me to resist. With a shudder of anticipation, I reached out for what was about to give me the passion, the pleasure, and maybe even the baby, I so desperately wanted.
Matt slid into bed and our nude bodies touched. Once again, he pressed his lips against mine while his fingers roamed over the contours of my breasts, hips, and then my thighs. When his hand slid up and took possession of my pussy, I heard myself gasp and felt my body arch up to meet his touch.
All of my senses were alive. The feel of Matt's fingers, the taste of his lips, the sight of his blatant need, the clean, masculine aroma of his flesh, even the sound of his breathing was intoxicating. After a last kiss, he began feasting on my flesh like a starving man gorging himself at a banquet.
He took his time on my breasts and throbbing nipples until I was on the verge of an orgasm. But then he stopped and began kissing his way down until he was nibbling on my oh, so sensitive inner thighs.
In one slow, smooth motion his tongue teased its way up from there until it slipped inside by pussy. It felt so damn good. Still, I wanted more. I wanted, needed, to be totally possessed by this man.
We’d been apart for what seemed like ages. No way I could wait any longer. I practically begged him, "Now Matt. I need you, now."
He looked up and studied my face, then nodded. Once again, I experienced that deliciously erotic moment when the tip of his cock touched me. Then he paused with it waiting at the opening to my churning pussy. After one more kiss, we surged towards one another and our two bodies melded into one being.
We were soon working together in a harmony of love and passion. The familiar feel of Matt's hard cock inside me was pure joy. There was no world but that room and that bed; no other time other than that incredible moment. Most of all, there was no man other than Matt, the man I loved, the man I’d missed, the man who was now taking me towards the brink of total ecstasy.
Desire, need, lust, longing, plus a totally unrestrained love pounded through every fiber of my heaving, writhing form. By then, I’d even stopped thinking about getting pregnant. I wanted nothing more than to keep making love with Matt for the rest of the day and then for the rest of my life.
The moment Matt entered me I’d begun building toward an orgasm that, when it erupted, was long, awesome, and left me tingling. Though stunned by the exquisite ecstasy, my hips kept moving in rhythm to his movements.
My climax seemed to trigger Matt’s. He began slamming into me with savage thrusts as I held him tight and savored the moment. He let out a loud groan and buried himself deep inside my hot, convulsing pussy. I luxuriated in the feel of his thick shaft throbbing as he filled me with his seed.
Afterward, we lay together, Matt still inside me, our moist bodies entwined in a lover's knot. We’d soon be making love again. But for now, he seemed sated, tired, and content. I was all of those, plus incredibly happy. Don’t ask me how, but I was certain I’d just become pregnant.
Now, eight months later, I don’t know if Matt’s alive or if he’s, if he’s not. It’s been ages since I heard from him. He warned me that might happen. Still, if he could, wouldn’t he…?
For about the millionth time since he left, I reminded myself that while I might not have Matt, at least I had his child, his son. “Matthew Hampton, Jr.,” I whispered, smiling at the sound. But then I heard myself continuing, “only child of the late Matt Hampton,” and start crying.
“This seat taken?” I didn’t look up, just shook my head and kept searching for a napkin.
Someone pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “Is the food here that bad, or are you just sad to see me?”
Who the hell was that idiot? I turn—and I’m staring at someone who looked just like, Matt Hampton. For maybe the first time in my life, I’m speechless. Just breathing was hard enough. Before I could think of something to say, he leaned over and kissed me. It was soft and gentle, and seemed to last forever, which was still way too short for me.
Nothing made any sense. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled. “Glad to see you, too, Miss Miller.”
Then it registered. “You’re alive!” I threw my arms around his neck, bury my face against his chest, and really start bawling.
At first I didn’t want to look up. The face I saw might not be Matt’s. It could all be a dream. But then I recognized the hardness of his body, his special smell, and his gentle touch as he stroked my hair.
When I do dare to look, all I can think to say is, “Really, what happened?”
“I quit.”
“You can’t just quit—can you?”
“My mission was accomplished. My time was about up. I told the bosses I had personal business to attend to, and just sort of quit.”
“Am I that personal business?”
“Damn straight. I got a message a few weeks ago from old Dad. Don’t ask how. Anyway, he filled me in on how things have been, well, developing since I left. He said you were way too good for me, and that while there may have been a few bastards in our family, they were all self-made men, not accidents of birth.”
“He shouldn’t have done that. This was no accident,” I said, touching my belly. “I don’t want you here because you feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t, honest. I’m, I’m just…“ To my amazement, Matt looked away, but not before I saw a tear roll down his cheek. After a moment, he wiped a hand down his face. Then he turned back and gestured toward my protruding middle. “You love me that much?”
“I do.”
Once again, he looks away and then turns back. “Maybe I’ve always loved you. I don’t know—could have just been teenage lust, I suppose. But the moment you and Kylie walked into the house last year, I was hooked. And that was a problem.”
“What problem?”
Matt’s smile came back as he took my hands in his. “The problem of my going back. We went over all that and you were right about my being selfish. But it was something I had to do. The thing is, I didn’t want to leave you with a bunch of promises and, to be honest, I didn’t want thoughts of you waiting for me messing up my mind.
“Dad understood and didn’t let me know about you and the baby until after it was all over. That part took a lot longer than I’d counted on, but he was right to wait. Because since then, you and the baby and Kylie and just life itself, that’s all I can think about. So I had to get out. I want life now, not more death, and it’s because of you, because I love you. God, how I love you. Becky, will you please marry me?”
For the second time in my life I was speechless. All I could do was grin and nod. Then we’re hugging and I’m crying all the while grinning like a kid on Christmas. We kissed, and it made the first one seem like a chaste peck on the cheek. When we came up for air, I patted my very big belly. “I’m afraid it won’t be much of a honeymoon.”
“That’s all right. I’m counting on having a long life to make up for lost time. When’s the baby due?”
“Well, if your son will wait that long, around Christmas.”
“A boy, around Christmas.” He seemed pleased with the idea. “And we’re not even Jewish.”
“You’re an idiot. But I do love you.”
“And I love you, too. Always will. Remember last Christmas, when we first made love and I said I liked your presents and the way you delivered them? Well, I still do.” He pauses as his big hands gently caress my belly. “It’s just that I never counted on such a special Christmas present this year.”
Naturally, I started crying even harder and pressed his hands tighter against me. The baby picked that moment to kick. Matt laughed, then stood and helped me out of my chair. “I believe we’ve just gotten a not too subtle hint from our son to get moving on this marrying business. Where’s the nearest jewelry store? We need to buy some rings.”
“Wait. My mother will be back soon. We need to wait for her.”
“No problem. I called last night to say I was coming in, but you were giving Kylie a bath. Your mother answered the phone and told me to take a cab from the airport to the mall and meet you in the food court. She said we might want some time alone to talk things over and that she’d show up later.”
As always, my mother had been right. And for once, I was very, very glad.
