After several minutes of stretching me and making sure I’m good and slippery, Brendan starts to press inside my rear channel as Jay continues to fuck my pussy. I tell myself to breathe, and use that breath to relax every part of me. Eventually, Brendan’s cock slips in fully, and then the two men take me in a coordinated rhythm, one retreating as the other pushes in.
Slowing their pace after a couple of minutes, they change it up, both of them pressing into me at the same time, making me feel full and utterly complete.
My only regret is that I can’t somehow take all four men at the same time; but who knows, maybe we’ll figure that out somehow, the more we experiment and play.
“I’m going to come inside you, Tina,” Jay says. It’s always sexy to hear it, but I know his body so well that the words are unnecessary.
Brendan takes the cue, though, and both men start to come as though synchronized. Between them, I take everything they have to give, full beyond my wildest dreams, surrounded by their love.
Five months later
Trying to get pregnant at forty is a completely different experience than accidentally getting pregnant at eighteen. I learn more than I ever wanted to know about menstrual cycles and fertility, and after having no success for several months, I started charting my temperature each morning, sticking a thermometer into my vagina before I get out of bed, trying to find the perfect time for optimum luck.
Since we have sex every day — multiple times a day — you wouldn’t think it would be this difficult.
Today, after taking my temperature, I get up and unwrap a stick from one of the many boxes under the bathroom sink. I have a good feeling this morning, but I’ve had the same feeling before, only to have my period come a few hours later.
At first, peeing on a stick felt strange, but now it’s as familiar as washing my face or getting dressed. Today, I set the activated test on the counter and say a little prayer. I used to sit and stare at the test sticks, waiting for the results, but now I know better.
Instead, I get in the shower, and take my time, enjoying the fragrant scent of the soap and humming a happy tune as I wash up. I almost forget about the test for a couple of minutes, but as soon as I open the curtain, I reach for it.
Then I wipe the towel over my eyes and look again.
Maybe a small part of me had started to give up hope. The doctor had warned me that it might not happen, but here it is, two bold, pink lines as evidence that there is still hope — that, after all these years, I’m going to have a second chance to be a mom.
I cry for a good, long minute — tears of joy, shock, worry, and gratitude. Then, I dry my eyes and go out to find my men and share the big news.