We woke early, the late summer sunshine flooding golden and bright into the airy room through the tall, elegant Georgian window, reminding me of my childhood, of the last days of the summer holiday before school resumed. I had the day off, in fact I had several days off, and I planned to spend them all drinking in the delight that was Lena, revelling in having her back with me again, and sorting out our plans for this house now that a new life was starting here, both for us and for our baby. Lena was the first to move, breaking the chain of reverie I was indulging in, stroking my face as she kissed me ‘good morning’.
I started to get up, prompting her to ask where I was going.
“To make breakfast, baby girl; I don’t know about you, but I need a shower, then a meal; we used up a lot of energy last night, I’m feeling the need to feed!” I grinned, admiring her nakedness in the bright golden sunshine; she really was spectacular, and I asked myself how I could have missed seeing her all the days of our lives together. I smiled as I thought what she’d resorted to in order to open my eyes to what had been under my nose the whole time. As I contemplated how beautiful she was, her eyes widened and her mouth watered, making her clamp her mouth shut as she scrambled out of bed and dashed into the family bathroom along the corridor, from where I heard the sounds of someone being noisily sick. I decided to use the smaller en-suite shower in the bedroom rather than disturb Lena in her morning prayers to the porcelain God.
I resisted the urge to offer her something to counter the morning-sickness; the horror and heartache of the Thalidomide catastrophe was forever imprinted in my brain, and that of every other doctor in the UK; she’d just have to live with it until it ran its course.
The shower was invigorating, hot and sharp, almost stinging me with the force of the spray, the way I’d always liked it. I was deep in contemplation of what I was going to do now that fatherhood was looming when the bathroom door edged open and Lena slid in, opening the shower cubicle door and stepping in without comment, turning down the pressure on the shower unit and grinning at me as she handed me the gel.
“Back please, Dar, then I’ll do yours!”
I was more than happy to oblige, Lena has lovely skin, and any excuse to touch, rub or fondle it was a treat for me. She sighed as I soaped her back, not forgetting her marvellous little bottom, my hands lingering over the elegant globes, squeezing and kneading them for the delight in holding and running my hands over those firm fleshy orbs, before moving round to the front, slowly soaping her stomach, then moving up to catch and squeeze her breasts, listening to her gasp as I flicked her nipples, then lower, until my fingers slipped and slid over the lips of her pussy.
“No Dar, not unless you mean it… ooohhh!” she groaned as I slowly rubbed her hooded clitoris, one hand playing with and gently rubbing her vulva while the other wandered up to squeeze and pull her nipples. My cock was getting hard against her, already pressing into the valley between her glorious cheeks. I rubbed more insistently, feeling her labia swell as she began to get aroused again, her own hand joining mine in touching pressing, slipping in and out, teasing her as she stood against me.
By now my cock was at full stretch, something she appreciated as she wriggled her backside against me, checking the feel of me slotted between her cheeks. I could feel her grinning even though she had her back to me, years of knowing each other’s moods from tiny little clues came into play; the tilt of the head, the set of the shoulders, a multitude of subliminal clues, and right now she was grinning as she waited for Act Two. I obliged, slipping another finger into her, rubbing the two of them in and out of her as I squeezed and tugged at her nipples, drawing little gasps and sighs from her. I could feel the juices gathering at her entrance, and smell the excitement as her arousal rose higher, the scent enticing and stimulating, making me want to do more than just touch this beautiful girl who was having my baby.
Lena sensed where I was going, and slowly turned to face the wall of the cubicle, leaning against it as she pushed out her rump invitingly at me.
“There you are, Dar, do it like this, I want you to do it like this!” she murmured.
I was only too happy to oblige! I positioned her carefully, holding her by her hips as I slowly slid into her, her breath hissing as I filled her. She put her hands flat against the tiled wall and braced herself as I began to thrust into her, pushing back against me with every thrust into her, to take as much of me into her as she could.
The feel of her clasping me gently as I thrust into her was a powerful inducement to just letting go and flooding her with my spunk, but I held on, waiting for her to climax; I wanted her to get as much out of this as I did, plus being naughty in the shower was huge fun! As I slid in and out of her, I felt her hand as she reached down to rub herself in time to my pumping, and the pumping and rubbing, the sound of our breathing magnified in the confines of the cubicle, and the feel of her beautiful firm breasts and bullet-hard nipples against the palms of my hands as I squeezed and kneaded them, all combined to pull me remorselessly to the point of no return.
Just as I thought I couldn’t hold out any longer, Lena began to shake against me, her breathing ragged and harsh as she moaned out loud, and then her pussy clamped down around me as she orgasmed with a loud, hissing moan and a series of shudders that pushed me over the edge. I pulled her tight to me by her breasts as I pumped and sprayed what felt like gallons of semen deep into her fluttering pussy, each pulsing squeeze of her tight pussy drawing another powerful spurt of sperm from my rigid cock. My eyesight dimmed as my eyes slitted, and my ears popped as the huge climax emptied me out, my body clenching inside with the need to pour more of myself into her, the force and intensity of it nearly turning me inside out. I had never come so hard before; only Lena was capable of drawing such pleasure from my body and returning it to me like this.
I slumped to my knees, utterly drained, my head roaring with the intensity of my orgasm and its aftermath, and Lena slid down to kneel and lean against me, her chest heaving as we waited under the spraying shower jets for strength and coordination to return, and for the clamour in my head to subside.
Lena was the first to recover.
“Holy Fuck, Batman, what was that!?” she grinned, and I could only grin and shake my head in reply, still too winded for speech. “I’m going to ambush you more often, if this is what I get!”
I had recovered enough to pull her against me, the feel of her warm, wet, slick body against mine and her full, soft lips brushing mine an affirmation of her reality, that she really was here with me, that she really was home again, this time for good, and we were together, the two of us and that tiny spark of life even now taking shape deep inside her.
I don’t know how long we sat there, exploring each other, not arousing, just feeling and re-acquainting ourselves with the shape and feel and texture of each other’s bodies. I was enthralled with her body and the way she moved, the way her breasts jiggled slightly, breathtakingly, whenever she moved, the spare elegance of her flanks, the muscles flexing and stretching like a dancer’s. I was suddenly aware, too, of the texture of her hair, apparently so thick and coarse, in reality fine, soft and glossy, the threads like strands of spider-silk, of her limbs, slim and coltish, but still rounded, feminine, desirable.
My eyes drank in the rounded allure of her perfect backside, the way the twin globes twitched and switched as she walked, the shadowed cleft between them, and the sheer innocent allure of her shaven sex, the labia womanly and tempting. I could have contemplated her nakedness all day, but other appetites were calling, and so, reluctantly, we exited the shower cubicle, wrapping bath towels around ourselves and towelling off each other’s hair.
I had just finished dressing in cargo pants, Reeboks and an army surplus UBACS shirt with the sleeves cut off when the doorbell rang. I looked out of the window in the upstairs hallway to see if I could identify the caller, but all I could tell was that it was a woman, one I didn’t know. Lena hadn’t made an appearance yet, nor was she likely to, so I tramped downstairs to answer the door.
When I opened the door, the woman, who was probably in her early forties, smiled and looked me up and down.
“Hello,” she smiled, “is this the Morgan residence?”
I looked at her curiously.
“Can I help you?” I asked her, and her smile faltered, her eyes widening.
“Oh my God, you… you’re Darryl!”
I nodded, wondering how she could know that. I had to find out.
“How did you know my name? I asked her, surprised to see her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“My name is Emma North, but when I lived in Clifton, a few doors away, my name was Fraser…”
That name sounded familiar; where had I heard that before? I was racking my brain, when suddenly the answer hit me. The night I’d found out dad was actually my grandfather, that his daughter, Elizabeth, was my birth mother, he’d told me my actual father was… Robert Fraser. All this passed through my mind in a split second, in the meantime this… Emma person was watching me closely.