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*** All Characters are Above Age, Clean, and Consenting within the story. Any alignment with real life persons, places, or things are entirely coincidental in terms of Copyright. Copyright © Reign Loveridge 2019 ***
Many men are fathers at different times in their life. Some in their teens, others in their wrinkles. Me? Well… I became a father quite recently indeed.
I was at college; my grades were good, but lacking in what I and my professors considered normal to me. In truth, I felt like I had no real purpose in life. I had everything to work towards but nothing to work for. Nothing at home to come home to. Of course, my mother was always a waystation, emotionally, either a visit or a phone call away. But there was nothing at my home. No life. Not even warmth. A shell I slept in when the moon was out.
But at college, there was that life. The shouting, the laughing, the classes inside and the student life on the outside. Clubs and food stalls, extra-curricular activities and deals for student bars and clothing stores. Such is what and where I spent my most time in. I made friends, all of which were older people who returned to education after living and working, whereas I came straight from high school.
Two friends were a romantic couple. Ethan and Sara — pronounced Sah-rah — and were in their late twenties with Ethan being the senior.
They were decent enough folk, both smart in their own fields of engineering and Law. I studied in the same school as Sara, initially wanting to specialise in Tort and Criminal Law, so I got to know her first. But both Ethan and his beautiful woman were in the debating club — a small circle of geeks who loved to argue over small and specific topics to keep their analytical skills sharp. Silly little topics such as the beach or pools, the new formula in a local hot chocolate brand or the old one. All silly and meaningless but was very heated when in the debating phases.
On one particular debating night, the topic was simple. Children. Have them to any number or do not have them at all. Surprisingly, considering how close the two were, Ethan and Sara separated themselves into the opposing groups. I was with Sara in pro-parenting. And Ethan was quite sourly opposing us on every ground.
‘Waste of money,’ the tall burly man said. ‘Waste of money, waste of time, and waste of space.’ He was told by the Madam speaker to not be so incredulous and emotional, but he did not listen.
While Ethan rattled on about the reason’s children were a waste of the parent’s time, I could hear a paper being scrunched. I looked over at Sara who was twisting her cue cards like wringing out a wet tea towel. She was nervous. As if sensing my concern, she turned and winked at me, but said nothing on the action and even voided her stand.
The night went on with the usual atmosphere of half-humourous and half-seriousness. At the end when the Madam’s decision on the winning team was reserved for the next meeting, Ethan was talking with his small group of Engineering friends while Sara went ahead to pull the car around. By that time, it was roughly eight-forty-five at night. So, I offered to walk Sara to their car, since there were indeed reports of assault taking place in the tree lines and parking areas of the massive campus.
We laughed about the funny points made and argued a little, after all, even though I was on her side, we cannot always agree. But, if I am honest, we disagreed on less urgent matters, such as having a boy first and a girl second, or whether or not it would be best to put the child in a baby-walker since the studies came out about leg deformity. I myself being a product of such deformity — often getting caught walking on my tip-toes — I won that particular argument by a landslide.
But we agreed on having children.
What was heartbreaking, even for me, was that Sara had told me all the arguments Ethan said across the night were ones he had used in their squabbles at home. It baffled me to the point of anger but she said he made it look like it was said in passing and had no link to their personal lives. Despite this crucial difference between he and I, Ethan was indeed a good man. Liked by few and loved by most. A go-getter and always busy. Hence why, I told Sara, he did not want children.
She nodded once and said nothing more. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, finding it hard to pinpoint her emotion in the dark, only seeing red-ringed eyes under a pathway lamp, constantly wiped by her rough coat.
We got to her car and she was about to say something before Ethan ran up and slapped me on the back and said his thanks for watching over Sara. He jumped into the car and they drove off with Sara giving me a look of immense apology. I waved them away from their parking space and went back across campus to my car. The entire way I was thinking about Sara, how hurt she must have been when Ethan actually laid their personal argument into a club one. I found myself disliking Ethan on that note, but I could not help that growing feeling escort kartal of making connections to everything else.
Over the next few months, I actually found myself looking more closely at their relationship. I am one for privacy but I was exposed to a massive part of their relationship, one that clearly and aggressively divided them down the middle. I never interfered, only watched. And perhaps I was bias for being so on-side with Sara that I did see their behaviour change. Sara was on her phone a lot more when with Ethan and their other friend circles. Her attitude was noticeably distant — often sighing when told something or taking no interest in what Ethan had to show or tell her — even their friends gave each other embarrassing looks. Sure, they could have been reacting to something else going on in their relationship, but even in my young age, I knew that this cut deep. Biologically deep. A crucial and defining detail. Location to settle, marriage, and children are often the biggest examples.
A few months go by and the distancing in Sara became a plateau, not reaching worse territories but not improving either. Their relationship had become static. So, when the annual inter-campus debating competition came around, even that did little to heal this life-defining rift a practice debate had caused.
Long story short, we won the competition, taking home trophies, vouchers, recognition and a little more appreciation for each other’s tenacity under pressure. We argued the importance or lack thereof of the questionable United Nations as a whole. Me being a moderate-nationalist, I pushed for our team to argue against and once it was confirmed, I let my passion for politics run rampant — even giving some of the team points of arguments. I noticed I gained a little attention and a joyful smirk from Sara but at the time I was too engorged with excitement to really care. I must have been a force of optimism rather than the progressing pessimism coming from Ethan who was actually the weakest link throughout the preliminaries, bowing out in the semi-finals and championships.
But we came home with the win and got our names in the local and even national paper, with two of us earning scholarships into a national team. We were excited and got drunk and had an amazing time mixing and chatting with the runner ups and comparing notes and strategies. But it was when we got home that everything became grim, but at the same time… a welcomed takeover.
Ethan held a dinner a week later, when — I believe — his relationship with Sara was truly on the rocks, ready to spill into the sea. One, it was to celebrate those who earned a scholarship, and two to formally apologise for not leading the team and not being the driving force that he usually was. It was very much a mix and match of meals. Asian, Italian, Indian, Country, and even a few take out options, strangely. It was a genuine feast.
Everyone dressed up in their number ones and, true to his recent behaviour, Ethan did not. Just a button up and old jeans. I heard whispers during the lead up to the dinner that he did not even shower. Sara though was in an immaculate baby blue single-shoulder strap dress with a respectful thigh cut. The entire thing was form fitting and suited her sapphire eyes. All the male members, and lesbian ones, gasped as she came down their flat’s creaky stairs.
We ate and gave toasts, sharing a lot of stories from the championships and otherwise. I was immensely full on the Asian and Italian food, myself. Noodles, Pasta, Calamari and Chicken Parmesan. But I still noticed the divide between Ethan and Sara. His touches on her arm were met with flinches. And any whispers encountered a half-smile and nasal chuckle.
Soon, I think, Ethan picked up on these almost blatant signals and began to get drunk, suggesting they go out on the town. Several others wanted to review a recording of the debate, of which was met with keen approval. Sara, seemingly wanting time away from Ethan’s drunken, apologetic whispers, cleared the table. Shockingly, none of the clangs and grunts of frustration disturbed anyone who were locked onto the television screen in the loungeroom. So, I helped Sara.
It took a while, but I used my regular system of removing food first into Tupperware and then stacked the dishes from small utensils to the serving plates. And then began the hard work: Washing them all.
Sara and I had our own little party in the kitchen, giggling silently and often checking on everyone slowly sauce themselves, horny off their own debate points and throwing empty cans of beer towards the screen like pelting a medieval prisoner.
But Sara and I were getting on well. I did my best to keep my eyes off her body though, looking at what I was doing. She was truly out of my league, but never did I expect the following.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘About that night…’
‘Too many to remember,’ I said dryly.
She flicked dishwater water at me. ‘No,’ she said, drawing it out. ‘That night when you walked me back to maltepe escort my car, I was about to say something to you but Ethan interrupted it all.’
‘Interrupted?’ I considered aloud. ‘Sounds major.’
‘It is but it isn’t.’ She said, bringing more plates into the foam and submerging them. ‘It carries on from the discussion we were having on the way there.’
‘Okay,’ I say, taking a plate from her and wiping it, adding it to a dry clean pile. ‘Go on?’
She leaned on the edge of the bench and looked into the dishwater. It took ages for us to respond, then she turned, the blue material turning around her frame and straightened until it was taut again. ‘I want to be inseminated.’
The shock set in slower than she may have expected. Truth was, I knew it had gotten to that point but I was thinking about the many hoops she would have to jump through, and the amount that this decision changed her from a loyal and naive woman into going behind her partner’s back.
‘So that’s all?’ I asked. ‘I know you thought about this more and for longer than this.’
Sara paused. ‘I have a few ideas.’
‘What?’ I said, jokingly. ‘Poke a hole in Ethan’s condom?’
Sara blinked then look down. ‘No,’ she lied. ‘But I have an alternative.’
She looked me up and down, the motion was both deliberate and unnerving. ‘You’ll see. For now, go home.’
I blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Go home and wait for my text.’
I shook my head, at the time, confused.
‘Go home. And wait for my text.’
I blinked once more and did as told. She followed me behind me, announcing my departure. Everyone rose their hands and cheered as her and I left. We came out to the doorstep and she saw me out and then closed it behind her. When I went to ask her what she was doing, she kissed me. A massive one. Wet, sloppy. Primitive and without that ‘lady-like’ hugging. She brought me close and felt up my back and down to my waist, even groped my front and up to my chest, then pushed me away. Our lips parted and she looked at me. ‘More where that came from. Just wait for my text.’ She went inside after that.
I did as I was told and left. But curiosity got the best of me. I did not go home. Instead, I pulled to the right, parked behind an idle car on the side of the street, and turned my car off.
An entire hour went by and I took the opportunity to introspect on how shocking this was becoming. I realised the desperation, just not the extent. She was genuinely thinking about cheating. No shame. Not even asking, just gave me an order. I knew at the time I was with it, we aligned so much. But Ethan… the man had truly changed. Not wanting to take charge, not wanting to help push his relationship to the next level, not wanting to accept the responsibility of fatherhood. I said to myself then:
Another half hour went by and I knew then the championships were finishing with the prizegiving ceremony. Not long after I did more thinking, I heard the debating club stumble out into the open. They were plastered all out on the lawn, many of them running into each other and dragging themselves into the grass. Eventually, they were able to get themselves onto the road where they regrouped and headed towards town. Sara came out behind them and stood there seeing them off. Many of them asked why she was not coming and she lied about needing a shower, then went back inside.
A moment later, my phone called. I picked it up and Sara said to come around. I told her I had parked down the road and she let out this giggle. Now I’ve heard and caused many women to giggle. But even past partners I’ve had, I had never heard a giggle quite like that. It was womanly, like a teenage girl telling a filthy joke she read on a bathroom stall. But it was also like a siren, the kind that plagued weary and lonely sailors. Like she knew I sailed too close to her rocks, like she knew I was eager to entertain the idea as much as she was.
‘Let yourself in,’ she said. ‘The door is open.’
I climbed out of my car, introspection came back but it came back in small bursts, like the small, almost needy waves you see after the surf rolls in. It had no effect, whatsoever, only that it helped me realise the pleasure of the situation. The pleasure of taking over.
I found her in the upstairs bedroom. The stairs announced my arrival and she called.
I walked in and there she was. Basking in dim light, on their soft bed. She was half-swallowed in the soft, velvet red covers, her head between the two pillows; hers and Ethan’s.
In spite of the low light, she glowed. Hormones, I guessed. As I walked towards the bed, I unbuckled my jeans and they fell to the floor. My underwear followed, they were hot with my heat and the cold air flooded but did nothing against my manhood that expanded from the freedom and slowly rose.
‘Finally,’ she whispered.
I crawled towards her on the bed. ‘Hm?’ I asked as her legs spread.
‘Boys pendik escort bayan shy away,’ she said. ‘Men ensure shyness.’
‘Okay,’ I said, positioning myself over her. ‘Thought it was a Game of Thrones fantasy.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, lifting her legs until her knees were nearly at her elbows and I felt her heat swing upwards across mine like a wave. She said more after that, something about a stallion mounting a world, but that flash of heat as her hips rose, her voice receded to a low muffle.
I could not help myself, so I entered her.
It slid into her. Long. Hard. Deep. A gasp sounded from her mouth and she tightened around my shaft, resulting in a gasp from me. I moaned with true feeling for the first time. It terrified me and caused a shift in my mood. Something told me she knew this, as her legs attempted to widen to accept me. There was a warmth; THE warmth of understanding.
Her legs buckle hard as I slap against her, the rhythm making her calves bounce around. I realised then that her heat told me a story. Her nerves sent signals in all directions, nonsensical waves of pleasure, washing over her as she calms into the tempo of our lovemaking but were somewhat enraged as I enter her.
My legs positioned themselves within hers and my hands tucked themselves under her arms. I get comfortable and began to thrust consistently. Again; long, hard, and deep. Passion overrode affection at that point and I began to press inside her at a steadying pace, a thump was heard above us, the headboard knocked against the wall and the mattress bent inwards as my weight ends on hers. By her eyes shut tight and her mouth open but silent, I knew she felt me inside of her, how I moved into her with such strength and power. Heat resonated from me and I slid into her womanhood with more wet slaps. Her mouth opened but nothing came out; nothing but a gasp for air in then an audible exhale as I slammed.
‘You’re… you’re… getting…’
I laughed into her shoulder, knowing she could feel me grow even harder, even bigger inside her, it widens her warm wet walls as my shaft moved in. My head pressed against something within her that brought my thrusting and length to a halt. She let out an abrupt yell. I leaned in and kiss her deep and with more sloppy passion.
Her face was full of heat and flusters that makes me kiss her all over her face that grew beads of sweat. I licked them all up all the same. Tasting her on a more primitive level.
An entire hour flew by of me working into her, her juices spraying all over me and so much kissing cold sores were a certainty. But I knew we would both bear them with pride, knowing that our little romp will end with something fantastic.
‘Argh…’ I groaned. ‘Oh fuck…’
‘What?’ She moaned back. I slam into her so much and pressed into her so deep she let out a unwomanly yelp. ‘Yes… yes, Sir.’
‘I’m going to come soon.’
‘And you will take me deep.’
‘Oh fuck… oh fuck…’ Inside, I began to throb faster and I moan more; turning into a deep guttural exhale that comes from my belly more than my throat. A growl escalating into a howl. ‘I’m going to… I’m gonna…’
I leaned onto her, all my weight on her belly and I pressed my full length inside of her. My throbbing escalated to physical pulsing. My belly tightened and I leaned over her shoulder, whispered in her ear, and wrapped my hands beneath her lower body to push her down as I pushed her up the bed. Already the sheets were soaked and we were about to drench them together. I pressed in with shorter bursts, keeping depth but heightening my stimulation. I felt the head of my manhood jam against her insides, slowly drawing my foreskin back further, sending small shocks of pain but pushed me to continue. The pain was glorious, wanting, and not at all something I want to stop.
Her mouth opened, no longer caring about the consequences, ‘Please, please, please come!’ I no longer cared about the consequences either as I took the final thrust into her. I pressed as hard as I could, as deep as I could. The rough waters gave way to calm and serene streams when I laid on top of her and emptied myself into her body. Our skin touched and we laid together in ecstasy. I climaxed fast and long, the explosion of lust and feeling came from me into her. The heat was beyond compare, almost unbearable, as I flooded her with me. My seed poured into her in unison with my throbbing shaft that widened her even more. I hugged her closer and felt her body all around, kissing her neck. I felt her naked skin and pressed it against mine and we continued to feel each other’s climax and juices swarm inside her. I brought her warmth and did right by her for being so submissive and subservient towards me; letting me fulfil my role as a male. A show of thanks, if she would have willed; knowing that I did want to end this session with her, alone in their apartment while her partner is oblivious; ending it with a hot, steaming explosion deep inside her body. I moaned more into her chest and I licked her all over and brought myself deeper. My manhood twitched around inside her, still throwing my seed deeper in strings of warmth. I convulsed and jerked about while inside her, the last of my seed poured and came out in quick shoots and drips.
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