The Baby Maker's Club

By: Penny Wylder

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and I wonder if he’s instructed to say things like that or if he actually means it. I try not to dwell on it. If he’s actually attracted to me, I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

As he rubs my shoulders, I put my hand on top of his and start to caress his fingers to let him know I’m ready for more. He takes my hand and kisses the top of it like a true gentleman. I find it endearing and old fashioned. And a little funny considering what we’re about to do. I bet they didn’t have baby-making clubs back in the day. I guess they didn’t really have too many single mothers then either. Times have changed.

He reaches around to unbutton my shirt. Goosebumps scatter across my body, my heart races, and my breathing changes when his fingertips touch my bare skin. Oh shit, I can’t believe this is happening.

Once my shirt is off, he moves his hands down my arms. He’s so gentle with me, though I know with the size of those hands, he could bend me to his will with little effort. I’m happy with the gentle touching, but when I think about him having his way with me, taking charge, I get turned on.

I turn to face him, and when I do, his eyes search my face, and then land on my breasts. I wore a black lacy bra and panties. I guess it was the right choice because he lets out a deep sound of approval. He touches the sides of my face and moves toward me until our lips touch. It’s the slightest kiss, but it sends a ripple of excitement through me. I pull back a bit, slightly confused.

“Are we allowed to kiss?” I ask him, feeling self-conscious, almost like a child on her first day at school. He laughs again and increases the pressure of his hand on the side of my face.

“There’s no way someone could stop me from kissing a woman like you.” His lips are on me again, and his tongue, as it glides gently against mine, tastes faintly of lemon and something minty. His taste and scent are like a drug for me, and I find myself latching onto him, my hands curled in his thick hair, unable to get enough.

The man knows how to kiss. He’s barely touching me with his fingertips while he’s doing it, but I can feel his touch everywhere. I could spend every waking moment of my life just kissing him, but eventually we have to come up for air.

I stare at his face, and I can’t help but think of how beautiful our child will be. Will he or she have this stranger’s deep-set eyes or his perfect nose? Will they have his olive complexion instead of my pale one? It’s thrilling to think of the possibilities. I couldn’t have chosen a better man for myself. Everything about him does it for me.

He reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra. I slide it off my shoulders and toss it to the side.

His breath hisses through his teeth when he sees me braless. “You aren’t anything like I was expecting,” he says.

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I just … you don’t seem like someone who needs a baby-making club to have a child.” There’s a pause. “That sounds horrible, doesn’t it? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to assume, or be offensive.”

I laugh. “No, it’s fine. I’ve never met anyone I’ve felt comfortable having a child with, so I figured this is my best option.”

He smiles wickedly. “I guess that makes me a lucky man that you chose this option.”

He—I wish I knew what to call him—leans in again to kiss me. He takes both of my breasts in his hands and kneads them, pinching my nipples between his fingers and sending bolts of lightning through my center. When he’s done thoroughly fondling my breasts, it’s his mouth’s turn to explore. He sucks at my nipple, gently using his teeth until I moan. Then his hand moves between my legs and rubs over my pants.

It feels amazing. I haven’t been touched like this in so long, and I don’t know if it’s ever felt this good before. He seems to know exactly the spots that will drive me crazy, and he hasn’t even gotten beyond my panties yet. I know once all our clothes come off, my time with this gorgeous stranger is going to be epic.

He lays me down and unbuttons my jeans. Shrugging them off of me, he tosses those aside with my shirt and bra. When he reaches for my panties, I hold my breath. He looks at me while he does this, an intense look of lust and desperation in his expression. When I’m completely naked, he takes me in with his eyes, caressing every inch of my skin with his fingertips except for the parts that ache to be touched the most.

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