Honeymoon Baby

   My new wife stepped across the threshold first and pulled my face down to one of her luscious kisses. “Hello, husband. Time to get on with your husbandly DUTIES.”
   Grinning, I said, “Oh yeah? What duties would those be?”
   “You’ve got to get out that tool of yours and make me a baby.” She lightly cupped the area in question.
I was 38 and she was 32, and neither of us had been married before. In my case, no one had even come close to being the one – until I met Carol. I’ve been totally into her ever since, in both senses of the word. At first, we told each other just enough to know that we were not virgins. We wouldn’t have expected otherwise at our ages, of course. I’d had my share of women, but never asked one to move in with me. We both fell head over heels. When we made – make! –love, I was drowning in her.
   I had asked her to marry me after spending the best two years of my life as her lover. When I knelt before her to propose, I told her I wanted her to be my wife and the mother of my children --- and I wanted both to happen soon. “Oh, yes, my darling, yes. I want to make a family with you.” After that when we made love, she frequently mentioned getting pregnant. It never failed to make me *** (she knew it would!), but of course we had been careful that she wouldn’t get pregnant yet.
   Only partly in jest, I had tried to persuade her to let me impregnate her before the wedding even. What’s a few weeks early? It would be hot to have a pregnant bride -- the lingering adolescent in me, I guess – and no one would have made too much out of the slight mismatch in wedding date and due date. She wouldn’t agree to that. But she did stop birth control after her last period. And at the altar today, she whispered to me that she was in the middle of her most fertile time. Some serious baby-making was about to happen.
   Now in our luxury hotel room, she was pulling me toward the bed, at the same time loosening my tie and belt and pulling my suit coat and dress shirt off. A flurry of hands was at work, because I was opening her zipper and removing her bra at the same time.
   I bent down to loosen my shoelaces and remove my socks. And as I stood up, I began to stroke and massage her perfect breasts. They’re just like I like them -- a handful, but not too big to manage all at once. And when they’re crushed against me as we ****, I’m in heaven. I took a nipple in each hand and twisted them – not painfully, but enough to make her moan and thrust her pelvis toward me.
   I picked her up and gently put her down in the very center of our nuptial bed. Lying on top of her, I stroked her ***** and explored just inside it for a moment. And then I placed my cockhead just at the entrance, began to rotate my hips slowly and gently, and moved forward little by little. She loves it like that – really being screwed, her hips thrusting back in a passionate dance with my slow but determined moves forward.
   I took a minute or so to penetrate her up to the hilt, and I could feel her becoming more and more ready. So I slowed down and withdrew and, still rotating my hips, returning it slowly again. She wrapped her legs around mine, as I lay on top of her. I thrust into her again, and then again, each time a little faster. On the last time, I withdrew until only my cockhead was inside her and then moved back and forth gently, letting the ridge of my cockhead stimulate her clitoris.
   Her breath came more quickly and her movements became more inviting; she was going to *** soon. “**** me, baby; let’s make our baby,” she cried out. I plunged my ***** all the way back into her, and she crested physically, trembling and crying out as her ****** racked her body. Her eyes were glazed, as her face settled into an expression of deep satisfaction.
   I was nearly there, too, and I lifted my body off hers, increasing the stimulation to her clitoris as my cockhead moved back and forward over it. Lifting her legs over my shoulders, my torso bent them back toward her chest, leaving her ***** open to the deepest possible penetration. “I’m going to knock you up so good wife….” I pushed all the way in and held, straining slightly to shoot my *** right into her womb. I bombarded her with three strong pulses; and then I pulled back slightly and rammed forward again, this time giving her two more injections of my *****.
   I stayed in place inside her, letting my thick, still semi-hard **** keep my *** from leaking out of her *****. She kept her legs up to help. When I did slowly pull from her, I reached down between us and grasped each side of her ***** lips, so the ***** off of my **** stayed inside her, too. I took small pillows and pushed them under her hips to tilt her vagina so that ***** could more easily gain access to the egg waiting in her body. We had decided to have her sleep that way through the night.  I lay beside her and we talked quietly about the baby we were going to have. I kept stroking her breasts, upper legs, and *****
   I lived up to expectations: I knocked her up on the first night of our marriage. Nine months and two days later, our son was born. Even though the wedding actually came before the conception, we got plenty of teasing about pre-wedding hanky-panky, especially from my friends. But I was proud to be seen with a beautiful, clearly pregnant wife only a few months after the wedding and excited to be catching up so quickly with all of those friends who had started their families several years before.
   Our lives changed quickly – but that’s what we wanted. Within four years, I went from being a bachelor to having a beautiful wife and three terrific children. With three of them and me over 40, we regretfully considered our family complete. But whenever she ovulated, I got a yen to impregnate her again, and I think she may often have been tempted by that idea.
bandrews bandrews
61-65, M
Aug 1, 2011