Gretchen Bainbridge picked up Jules from the Village Inn parking lot at the end of a blistering summer day, shortly after three p.m. Gretchen wore an outlandish blonde wig complemented with large sunglasses. She drove a rental. Jules understood her discretion.

“Where’s your sister?” he asked quietly.

“If she comes, she’ll meet us there.”

“Dressed in a wig and sunglasses?” he wondered facetiously.

Gretchen ignored him. She was tense. Back in January, it had already been dark, or almost dark, by this time in the afternoon. In early August, the sun blazed away until nine p.m. Gretchen couldn’t afford to be seen.

There was no need for small talk. They both knew why this hookup was necessary. Jules hadn’t asked for it.

The motel was only a few minutes distant by automobile—their room reserved in Jules’ name, located around the back, as per Gretchen’s demand. She drove up and let him off on one side of the building before driving off. Jules walked the parking lot to his room alone. No one noticed him. Ten minutes later, Gretchen drove up, parked, and scurried into his room. No one noticed her, either.

Jules met her at the door naked, erect penis in hand.

“Thank GOD,” Gretchen huffed.

She hurriedly disrobed, slathered a dab of lubricant to her anus, then took up a standing position against a dresser. This is how they’d done it all year. Jules approached her. He centered his penis between her creamy buttocks, twirling his ass once. Gretchen’s funkytown eased open slowly for Jules’ perusal. She groaned gratefully.

“Finally!!”

Gripping her shoulders, Jules hilted himself. Gretchen arched her back to give him better leverage. Too, with her back arched almost perpendicular, Jules hit her anal spot nicely.

She came quickly; she’d gone too long without. Jules began to range that rump righteously. Gretchen came again.

“I…I see…you’ve…UNH!...really missed me!” he grunted.

“Y-y-yes, b-baby! Keep going!! I’m with you!!” she stuttered.

He fucked her roughly for another five minutes. Gretchen climaxed yet again, twiddling her clit between her fingers. This third quivering orgasm finally shook the edges from her fervor. Jules pulled out with a cock made of stone.

“Suck me,” he demanded.

Gretchen knelt to grace his cock in throat. She blew him even as her last orgasm crazed, dizzy with lust, blinded with vehemence. Jules reached down to fondle her tits. Gretchen liked it. She shook free of her orgasmic catatonia. A new joy ignited to spread from her breasts downward into her cunt. Gretchen looked up at him.

“I want you to fuck me. But…don’t cum in my pussy. You can cum in my ass.”

Jules knew the drill.

He led Gretchen over to the bed and mounted her missionary. Early on, she hadn’t minded him going rawdog in her babymaker. Greta’s pregnancy put an end to that largesse. Jules wafted aloft as his penis cruised a full nine-inches into the older woman’s pussy. She squeezed his shaft tightly on each insertion, holding his foreskin in place against the impending withdrawal stroke. This move sent gigantic surges of electricity jolting through Jules’ cockhead, driving him to delirium.

“Stop…doing that,” he mumbled. “You’ll make me cum.”

Gretchen ignored him. She ramped up the concentric palpitations in her cunt. She needed him to be on the verge of seizure.

Jules began his pre-orgasmic tremor. Gretchen could feel his back stiffening, felt his muscles tightening. His strokes became deeper, more manic. She waited…waited…

“Now, Jules!! NOW!! PUT IT IN MY ASS!!!” she screeched.

Jules pulled out sharply. She reached down to guide his cock into her ass, just an inch south of her cunt. Jules pushed forward into her stink…deeper…deeper. With his cock fully immersed now, Jules came, slathering Gretchen’s rectum in crème. Jules’ back arched impossibly as his penis splurted.

“My titties, Jules!! My titties!!”

Jules grasped each of her tits in his palms, squeezing tightly. He leaned in to bite one. Gretchen came yet again with an ear-piercing death scream.

They lay inside each other like this for what seemed an age. The Universe spun a tornado about them. Gretchen clenched her asshole up to draw as much of his semen as she might. Both lovers spasmed in tandem with Jules’ palpitating penis, slower with each iteration, but still ebullient.

“S-s-shit!!” Jules mumbled.

Gretchen smiled weakly.

“Don’t fall asleep,” she panted, “There’s more where that came from!”

Jules did fall asleep atop her. It had been a long day.

When he awakened, he was on his back. Mrs. Bainbridge was bent over his side, sucking his cock. She smelled wonderful.

“What’s that perfume you’re wearing?” he asked.

“You like it?” she mumbled through a mouthful of cock, “It’s widfdsf dsdflds”

Jules didn’t understand what she’d said. Fellatio impedes enunciation. Jules didn’t really care; he didn’t wear perfume. He thought he might want to buy some of Gretchen’s brand for Delphia, though. Gretchen smelled good. Maybe he could get Gretchen to buy him some widfdsf dsdflds and then he could re-gift the shit to Delphia.

Why not? Why should he ass-fuck this granny for free? Gretchen had been clear. This was going to be an ongoing thing.

Jules tucked this little nugget away for future consideration. She had more money than he did. She certainly could afford it.

Jules pulled free of Gretchen’s gullet. He mounted her doggystyle and fucked her up the ass again.

This is how she likes it.

They were going along now, cruising, neither of them near completion but both just enjoying the surge and sway of rectal infusion.

There was a knock at the door. Jules leapt up.

“the FUCK!!” he exclaimed. “Who’s that?”

“It’s Greta. Go let her in,” Gretchen said calmly, using her educator’s voice.

Jules strode to the door with his erection waggling wildly. He cracked the door to peek out. It was Greta, alright. She wore no disguise. A classy maternity outfit bespoke to her condition. Jules let her in.

“I see YOU TWO are already into it,” Greta said.

Jules clambered back atop Gretchen. He re-inserted himself. It was all so perfunctory.

Greta began to undress.

“Do you mind?” she asked, speaking to no one in particular.

Jules didn’t respond. He’d never seen a naked pregnant woman before.

Finally fully nude, Greta climbed up on the bed next to her sister, knees drawn up doggystyle. Jules could see her crimson-haired pussy protruding from between her buttocks, could see her belly bulging from her waist. Greta didn’t say a word, intending to wait until Gretchen detonated. She’d take whatever leftovers Jules had to offer.

Gretchen, however, wasn’t close to cumming. She’d expended the bulk of her orgasmic capital already. She did have another cum explosion simmering. It wasn’t yet ripe.

“Jules?” Gretchen asked from below. “Do Greta. I need to take a break.”

Obediently, Jules stepped up behind Greta.

“Ass? Or pussy,” he asked.

“Pussy,” Greta requested.

She seemed tranquil. This was subterfuge. Greta’s pussy was smokin’. Pregnant women have the most electric cunts.

Greta’s thatch of fiery orange/red pubic hair was twice that of her sister. Jules saw a small valley in the forest that he assumed harbored her opening. He pointed his dick into this valley and, sure enough, found her vagina at the bottom of it. Greta’s animalistic groan of appreciation made it all worthwhile.

“You don’t care if I cum?” he asked.

“Please do. It can’t…hurt,” she moaned.

Jules fucked her carefully in consideration of her condition.

Greta was indignant.

“Go harder,” she said.

“Huh?”

Jules didn’t want to hurt the incubating child.

“I SAID HARDER, DAMMIT!!” Greta demanded.

Jules ramped up the fervor. Her head snapped.

“That’s it. That’s good,” she said.

This was the son of the woman she’d met out proselytizing the other week. Greta felt a kinship with Mrs. Kittridge, an unspoken bond. The penis ramming Greta’s pussy had come from between Abby’s legs. And oh! It felt SO good. It had been so long!

“I want…you…to cum,” Greta said. “I want you to…cum in my pussy.”

Jules was leery. He felt like she was luring him into some sort of trap.

“The baby will come out and she’ll blame it on ME.”

(Young people have their superstitions, especially childless young men.)

In any case, Jules withheld his ejaculate. Greta came twice.

“That’s enough,” Gretchen interjected.

She pulled Jules from atop her sister and took up another stance at the dresser, intending another standing anal go. Jules stepped up behind her, dipped his knees and inserted himself. They were used to this position, in fact, experts at it.

Jules fucked Gretchen through another mind numbing orgasm, after which she found it difficult to stand. She stumbled over to the other bed and fell in. Dick in hand, Jules returned to Greta. The redhead rolled onto her back and raised her knees. This was something new. Greta’s belly was almost seven months along. Jules didn’t want to lie atop her.

“Scoot up to the edge of the bed, here. I’ll stand,” he said.

“I want you to cum,” she crooned again. “I need you to cum in me.”

“Why?”

“It’ll help…me,” Greta admitted.

“You need my semen to help you do WHAT, exactly?”

“It’s not the semen. I need to FEEL you cumming. It helps…me.”

“Oh. Well, I’m almost there. Do you want me…to wait…until you cum?” Jules asked.

“No. Just…cum. Cum as fast and as hard as you can. It helps.”

Jules slipped his cock into Greta’s hairy cunt. He really was on the verge. It seemed he could feel every ridge, every bump in her pussy along the scintillating journey to hilt. Greta’s pussy was full of girly froth churned up by their earlier session. There was a living baby in there, too, adding its own special aroma to Greta’s vaginal bouquet.

Jules inch fucked her. He didn’t pound. Rather, he just bathed his shaft in the hole.

Greta knew what he was doing. She just needed to feel him pulsating inside her, doing what virile men do. Soon enough, Greta got her wish. Jules’ breathing deepened considerably. He began to hyperventilate. Shortly thereafter, Greta felt a surge of hot inundating her loins. HOT, not warm. Greta felt the sizzle down below. This is what she’d longed for, the joy she hadn’t felt in lo, these many months.

Greta didn’t cum, but she came damn close. And that was good enough.

Jules dropped to his knees, like Gretchen, unable to support his weight in the face of this latest scintillating climax. Greta helped him into bed. She dabbed sweat from his brow.

“That was good,” she whispered. “Thank you!!”

For the first time in months, Greta felt the glory of male semen trickling out over her buttocks. She felt like a woman again.

They lay together in post-coital bliss. Gretchen lumbered over to lie parallel. Lying on his stomach, Jules reached up to fondle both women’s breasts—Greta’s tits ripe with pregnancy. Jules found her distended belly a bit off-putting, a third monstrous breast.

They lay quietly for fifteen minutes, then fifteen minutes more, talking aimlessly about this and that—nothing of real consequence.

Finally, Jules dredged the courage to ask what was truly on his mind, the question that had nagged him for months.

“Mrs. Scarborough? Is this Ned’s baby?”

Greta paused awkwardly. She considered lying, but felt it was time to come clean.

“No, Jules. It’s not.”