Let’s Make a Baby (L)

(L) – This story contains strong language. 

This is the story of how we made a baby.

Well, actually God made the baby and we just went along for the ride. In some respects it seems like a long time ago and in another sense like it was yesterday.

A lot of changes had taken place, and there were more on the horizon. My husband and I had just tied the knot the month before, and I was anxious to try for a baby. I was 42 and I wasn’t getting any younger. My husband, on the other hand, is younger than I am. I guess that makes me a cougar. We had actually known each other for some time, but it was during COVID that we had gotten close. We got married in the summer of 2021.

We had both agreed that we wanted to try for a baby as soon as possible. My mother was older when she had me and my sister, so I figured maybe I could do something similar. I had also found out that it isn’t particularly uncommon anymore for women in their 40s to have a baby—or in my case, another baby. (I have a son by my first husband.)

The plan was simple: I would track my ovulation, and we would bang like rabbits when the time came.

Then I started overthinking, which is what I usually do when I have too much time to think about something. I was in a somewhat unique situation: here I am, an older woman with a very healthy younger husband (or lover as I sometimes prefer to think of him), with what I hoped was an astronomically high sperm count.

My husband is a good man, and I believed that he would make a good father. I was absolutely determined to get pregnant, and I found the idea of carrying my younger husband’s baby to be thrilling.

As we discussed it, we decided to make a “me and him party” out of our baby’s hopeful conception. According to my calculations, my next ovulation should be on or around September 11, which, since this was 2021, would be on a Saturday. Perfect! I would have him all to myself that day, and I decided that I wanted the maximum amount of sperm out of him. (If you’re wondering, I’m an engineer.)

I recalled that men tend to be visual, so I decided to appeal to that base instinct in my husband. I had already worn my honeymoon lingerie for him several times. This time I wanted something different—something that would tell him I really wanted to fuck—something that would really drive him wild!

I had discovered that I enjoy being dominated during sex. Not in the BDSM sense, but that I got really off on him taking charge of the situation and my body.

Then I remembered something he had said: “Red and black is sexy.” Okay, I agree. The contrast can be striking. Then it occurred to me: instead of getting a single piece or two, why not get an ensemble? Something where a piece or two could possibly be worn in public when we go on a date.

So I went internet shopping and I came up with something. In the end, though, I wouldn’t wear any of this in public.

We decided that there would be some rules for our little “me and him party”. The rules would be simple. We would have basically “free use” for a 24 hour period, maybe more and maybe less. We could have sex anywhere in the house on demand. The area would have to be safe—for example, no sharp or heavy objects nearby. Oral could be used as foreplay, but there would be no cumming in my mouth, and no anal sex. After all, I couldn’t get pregnant if his jizz was either going down my throat or up my ass. And either of us could say stop for physical or emotional reasons.

The game would begin on the morning of September 11. Dressing sexy was my little surprise for him, and he wasn’t expecting it. I have to admit that I’ve never done anything like this before.

On the evening of Friday, September 10, we went out for some drinks and hung out with a few new friends we had made. My husband went to the bar to get our drinks, and I noticed that the barmaid was flirting with him a little. I remember thinking to myself, “Listen, honey, his ass is mine, and I don’t share.”

I was a little tipsy that evening when we got home, and I was determined to rebuff any of his advances, but he didn’t make any.

When he wasn’t looking, I double checked my outfit for the next morning, which was stashed in my dresser drawer. He promised to make sausage, gravy and biscuits for breakfast, and I was glad about that—not only is that a favorite, but it would keep him busy while I got ready for the day’s festivities.

When we climbed into bed, I was still feeling a little tipsy. The alcohol had lowered my inhibitions, and I was in a playful and frisky mood. We had our usual good night kiss, except I didn’t stop. I kept kissing him—passionately. Before I knew it, my t-shirt and panties were coming off and I was rubbing my naked body against him.

I honestly don’t remember the details, but my husband said that I had my hand down his shorts and that I was fondling him, which sounds like something I would do. I remember his shorts coming off and somehow a towel got underneath us. It takes very little effort to get him hard, and I took full advantage of it.

He started playing with my nipples and I pulled him on top of me and spread my legs. He slipped into me easily since I was already pretty moist down there. I just wanted him right then and there, and I wrapped my legs around him. I remember him moaning as he came, and I managed to have a decent but smaller than usual orgasm by using my fingers. It didn’t matter to me. I had wanted him and that was that.

We adjusted our position to just cuddle, and I wrapped the towel around my waist and between my legs to absorb any of his cum that drained out of my pussy.

“So much for waiting until tomorrow morning,” he quipped.

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

“You know if you didn’t kiss so good…” I started, but trailed off.

We both giggled and drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

The next morning we woke up as usual, lounged in bed for a little bit, and cuddled, still naked from the previous night. He looked at me and said that he had better start getting breakfast ready. I agreed and told him I wanted to take a shower. We kissed, and he was on his way.

Once he was out of the bedroom, I grabbed my attire and headed to our bathroom. After my shower, I looked at the mound of clothing that was waiting for me as I dried off and brushed out my hair. I hung up my towels, then grabbed the stockings and began pulling them on—black fishnets. Then my panties—black lace with a crotch opening. I had also gotten a thin gold chain to go around my middle and through my belly button ring. Then my top—black lace tank top. Now the mini skirt—red spandex. Then a tank top over the black lace one—a rib jersey knit red. I went to the closet and got my high heels which I had forgotten to bring with me—black. I could smell the coffee brewing and the aroma of cooked sausage in the kitchen as I looked at myself in the mirror.

Oh shit, I thought at the sight in the mirror. What if I’ve overdone it? It’s one thing to think about something, and quite another to actually do it. My husband had always thought of me as a lady, even when I had invited him to penetrate my ass on our honeymoon. Now I looked like an absolute slut. I just hoped this wouldn’t completely backfire on me. I thought it was too late to back out now, so I let out a big sigh and decided to just go with it. “Here goes nothing,” I muttered to myself.

I grabbed a small towel and sashayed to the kitchen. As I arrived, I asked my husband, “How can I help?”

The made-from-scratch baking powder biscuits were cooling on counter and he was busy finishing the sausage and gravy.

Without turning around he said, “Can you check the table and make sure everything’s there?”

We needed orange juice, so I got some glasses and poured some for both of us. I was about to place them on the breakfast nook table when I saw him staring at me, expressionless. He had heard the clicking of my high heels on the tile floor.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, while doing my best to stifle a laugh and look innocent.

“Looks like you’re all hot to trot this morning,” he replied with a wry smile.

Okay, that was better than him asking, “What happened to you?”

He gave the gravy a quick stir and came over to give me a hug. He wrapped his arms around me and ran his hands down my back and all the way to my butt. It was his way of exploring my body and determining what exactly I was wearing underneath, if anything.

“I thought we’d celebrate a little,” I said.

“I guess so. That looks like more than just a little.”

I smiled at him and broke away from his embrace. I gave him an impish glance over my shoulder and grabbed the orange juice glasses. I placed them on the breakfast nook table, making sure to walk with a sexy stride while performing this little chore.

“What else do we need?” I asked.

He laughed a little. “Food. It looks like we’ll need our energy today. I think we have everything else.” He winked at me, which made me smile.

He started to break open some biscuits and ladled some of the creamy gravy over them. I took my plate and made sure he got a good view of me walking to the breakfast nook table. We sat facing each other and held hands as we called upon the Holy Trinity to bless us and our food. This is one of my absolute favorite breakfasts, and my husband, who frequently cooks on the weekends, does a fantastic job at it. As we ate, we talked and flirted.

When we were both done, I insisted on taking our plates to the sink and getting our coffee, making sure he was getting a good view. I set his cup in front of him and my cup a little off to the side, and proceeded to straddle his lap facing him. I stretched a little in a flirty way and put my arms around is neck and kissed him deeply. He ran his hands over my body and I could feel his hardness beginning to push into my crotch. I leaned back and we each took a drink of our coffee. As we sat there, we kept kissing and playfully touching each other. When we had drained our cups, he gave me a pat on the rear and commanded me to get up.

I stood up and lifted my leg over him, and he got up and led me to the end of the kitchen island. He kissed me passionately and gave my ass cheeks a playful squeeze. He spun me around and bent me over the counter top, and I instinctively began to pull my miniskirt up as he opened his shorts. This would be our first mating of the day. He started fumbling with my panties, until I told him that they were crotchless. He quickly figured out how to part them and tried to push himself into my fertile pussy. He had a little trouble angling himself for penetration, so I got him lined up.

“Come on baby, push it in!” I begged.

His cock glided into my already-wet pussy, and he began to gently thrust. He bent over on top of me and whispered in my ear, “You’re such a naughty girl.”

I giggled as he described my body and sexuality in vulgar terms, which only turned me on more. (I love dirty talk.) I adjusted my position so I could reach down and play with myself, and I was able to slide my finger into my pussy while he pumped me. I felt so fucking naughty.

I was certain that I was ovulating, and I wanted a good load of his cum in me. We whispered something about knocking me up when he came. I was able to make myself climax just as he was finishing.

When we were both done, he withdrew his now limp and wet penis from my gooey pussy. I asked him for the towel and I wiped between my legs, then straightened out my panties and pulled my skirt down. My husband wiped his penis off and pulled up his shorts. I looked him in the eye and thanked him, then kissed him passionately.

I’m a total nerd, and I was having fleeting thoughts about the biochemical reproductive processes that were hopefully either taking place, or would soon be taking place in my uterus.

We kissed passionately again, and then cleaned up from breakfast. We had no other plans for the day other than being together and trying to make a baby. We played together and with each other several more times that day. I even put on some music and stripped for him that afternoon.

In the end, I guess we were successful! I gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby boy in June 2022.