Under the Stars and Stripes (Under Him)

Laying down flat, I opened my legs, planting my feet on the edge of the bed, like we’d done on the bus. Accepting my invitation, Theo ran his tongue down my belly and between my thighs, where put it to work on my aching pussy.

He lapped at my tender lips until I moaned, beginning to shudder with sweet orgasm.

Recovering quickly, I took his cock in both hands, feeling the gentle throb through the material of his pants. Working around my hands, Theo got his pants off, joining mine on the floor.

I pounced on his cock, half swallowing it in my fiery passion. I’d never taken a guy that deeply before, but I’d already started and wanted to finish.

Easing back a bit to a more comfortable depth, I gave him everything I had, pumping his thick shaft with both hands as I eagerly gulped on his cock. It didn’t take long for Theo to give up his sweet gift. A massive torrent of cum filled my waiting mouth.

As though reading my mind, Theo readjusted my position, putting my legs up over his elbows, and stroked the head of his cock against my lips, preparing to give me what I needed.

“Fuck,” I moaned, as he eased in me inch by inch.

Getting about half of his full length comfortably inside me, he started to move. Our bodies came together at the same time as our souls. As we were meant to be.

Without warning, or much upset, we came together, me against him and he inside me.

“I have something to tell you,” I said, as we lay together in the hazy warm afterglow.

“What’s that?”

“It’ll come as a surprise, but I thought you should know, and I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, love.”

“I’m going to have our baby. It’s still in the early days, but the tests are all in agreement. I’m definitely pregnant and it is most definitely yours.”

“Fuck yeah,” he said, looking shocked but happy. “I’m going to be a father.”

Epilogue – Becca

We named him Wolfgang.

Wolfgang Varg Adams-Vermeer.

He was born on an unseasonably warm day in late February, a bit early but absolutely fine. He just couldn’t wait to say hello to the world. That was a trait he’d inherited from his dad.

It was a belated honeymoon, both Varg and I had been preoccupied with other matters. Getting married, having our child, getting Theo residency so he could stay with me and never leave again.

Then, of course, there were our jobs. One of the advantages to being married to another creative-type person was the understanding what it required. Theo took care of Wolfgang at home as I started work at the Pops.

Most of the time, I could bring Wolfie with me. The only slight hiccup were actual live performances, when I needed all my faculties about me. In such situations, there was Theo, or my parents, or Ashe, Stephanie or Holly Jones down at the Suspicious Activity offices. That was officially Theo’s employer since his spectacular performance at the 4th of July event.

Less of a business, Suspicious Activity struck me more as a found family and haven for those who loved music. It was clear early on that Wolfie was going to have more family than he would know what to do with.

There was one branch however that he had yet to explore, an injustice that could not be allowed to stand. So, the following July, Theo’s debut album having gone through post-production and with the Pops on a break for the month, we flew to Amsterdam to introduce Wolfie to the other side of his family.

“Welcome,” Mrs. Vermeer greeted at the door.

We all hugged our hellos, the grandparents fawning over their new grandson before heading in from the heat.

“English,” Theo said, admonishing his sister for saying something in Dutch.

“Sorry,” Petra said.

“It’s fine,” I said, not wanting to be rude.

I generally liked to know what was going on but didn’t expect them to always speak English around me. I was in the Netherlands, after all. I should expect to hear some Dutch.

The last thing I wanted was to be one of those obnoxious American stereotypes. The closest I ever got was when I discovered that Tarantino was right and that they did, in fact, put mayo on french fries in Amsterdam.

Much as with Flemish painting and Warren Zevon, I found I actually quite liked them after I actually gave it a try.

Hearts warm and bellies full, we left Wolfie with his Dutch relations and went to the honeymoon suite he’d booked for us at a snazzy hotel. We checked in at lightning speed and nearly racing each other up the stairs.

A bit of a traditionalist, at least in some ways, Theo insisted on carrying me across the threshold, when all I really wanted him to do was go through a different entrance. It was crazy how my sex-drive had kicked into high gear. Years of nothing and then bang, I couldn’t get enough. Maybe I really did just need to meet the right guy and was making up for lost time.