Too Good To Be True

As Jim entered me, with my calves on his shoulders, I had one of the most serene feelings of my life. I expected him to be my life partner, I expected to fully enjoy myself, and I was well aware that this could lead to me becoming pregnant. Jim had agreed to me going off birth control. He’d all but begged me to marry him, and was even more excited than normal to shove his cock into my restless pussy. Jim grunted and I screamed in pleasure, as he ejaculated deep inside me; I just knew that a new life was being created. 

In some cases two out of three ain’t bad. This wasn’t one of them.

That was more than four months ago. It was a good fuck, and I did get pregnant. However, my life had changed dramatically for the worse. Tears were in my eyes, as I lugged a heavier suitcase than a pregnant woman should handle, down two flights of stairs to my Subaru Outback.

My supposed ‘life partner,’ Jim, had become a controlling, obnoxious, complete asshole, who couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t have an abortion just because he changed his mind about wanting a kid. He also seemed to have no use for me once morning sickness kicked in and my belly started to enlarge. I was really feeling sorry for myself when I arrived at the second floor landing.

Suddenly the door to apartment 2A opened up. Through my misty eyes a guy who almost filled the doorway came flying out. 

“Sorry,” he said, stopping just short of knocking me over. “Can I help you with that?”

He was really big, probably 6’5” or 6’6” and over 200 pounds. He had a cute face and a seemingly cheerful disposition.

“I think I can manage,” I said, as I saw his blue eyes fixate on my belly. Belly fixation was a common occurrence when I meet new guys these days. Normally it causes them to turn tail but he didn’t.

“No, I insist. That looks too heavy for an expectant mother to carry. I have a weak mind, but a strong back and carrying stuff is one of the few things in life that I’m good at. Please let me help.”

Before I could really respond the suitcase was out of my hands, and he was carrying it down the last flight of stairs like it weighed nothing. When we got outside I got a better look at him.

He had flowing blond hair, almost the same color as mine. I always notice hair color because I’m very proud of my long naturally golden locks. He also had no facial hair or glasses, big shoulders, and big arms. “Where should I put it?” he inquired.

“Oh,… the suitcase,” I stammered. What the hell else did you think he meant you dirty-minded little twit? I thought to myself. Since the third month of pregnancy it seemed that my libido had taken control of my brain. That, combined with Jim not only becoming a bastard but also no longer interested in having sex with me, was screwing up my mind. “In the Subaru, three cars to the right,” I finally responded.

After placing my bag in my car the friendly leviathan held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Blake, and you are?”

“Hi, I’m Kate,” I replied, trying to avoid his piercing eyes without seeming rude and trying to give a firm handshake, so that I didn’t appear to be a wimp. “Thanks.”

“Is there something else you need carried?” he asked.

“Well there are a few more things, but…”

“Let me help. Where are they?” he continued, with a big smile.

“Uh, well, my ex-fiancé is in his apartment and he probably would object to you helping me.”

“I’ll convince him that it’s OK.” he confidently responded, gently grabbing my elbow and steering me back to the apartment building.

As we walked I was apprehensive but also curious. “I saw you coming out of 2A,” I said. “Do you know Denise?”

Denise, the resident of 2A, is what my ex and the other guys in the building called the ‘talking wet dream!’.Why? Because of her big boobs, beautiful face, round ass, and other ‘noticeable’ features.

“I met her a few days ago and she said that she had a legal problem. However, I think it was just a ruse to get me to visit her,” he complained. “I won’t likely be meeting with her again.”

‘He must be gay’ immediately crossed my mind, since I couldn’t imagine a straight guy complaining that Denise had invited him to her apartment on a Saturday afternoon, no matter what the circumstances.

When we got to my former apartment Jim was in his normal, as of late, bad mood. “You’re not taking this fucking Bose Music System with you.” he barked, as he looked at one of the boxes I had packed.

“I paid for it,” I replied, but in a voice hoping to defuse the situation.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, with a snarl when he saw Blake.

“I’m the guy who’s helping your ex-fiancé move her belongings to her car, something that I guess you’re too weak to do yourself. Or perhaps you’re just a prick?!” Blake replied, in a totally no-nonsense voice, his smile gone.

“Get the fuck out,” Jim yapped.

Blake got in his face, and said something to him that I didn’t hear. Since Blake was a good eight inches and sixty pounds bigger than Jim, I think that Jim got the idea that he shouldn’t mess with him, turned red, and exited the room.

With his smile back Blake handed me the Bose box since it was light and then picked up the last two, large, suitcases that I pointed out to him. We left and I slammed the door behind me while singing the Hallelujah Chorus, to myself. When everything was loaded into my car I thanked Blake again.

“No problem,” he replied, “Where are you off to?”

“This move was sudden. My asshole ex kicked me out, and I wasn’t on the lease, so I couldn’t legally object. I’m going to stay in a hotel for a few days until I can find something else. I have a storage facility with furniture and other stuff from my old apartment in it, and I’ll put most of this there too.” I sheepishly replied.

“We may be able to help each other out,” Blake chuckled. “My boarder moved out at the beginning of the month and I need a new one. Care to look at my place?”

‘Maybe he’s not gay, maybe he’s a rapist?’ , flashed through my mind. Seeing the obvious apprehension on my face he continued. “Follow me to the local precinct. I’ll give them my driver’s license and social security card, and they can do a background check on me, for you, within a couple of minutes.”

“What?” I blurted out.

“I want you to feel comfortable that I’m not a criminal, and am just looking for a boarder to share my condo. Follow me. I have the blue Honda Insight two cars in back of you.”

I didn’t know what else to do, so I followed him to the police station. He knew the cop at the desk. An office worker behind the cop ran a background check on Blake, at the desk cop’s request, and Blake handed me the printout. Clean!

“Will you at least look at my apartment?” Blake asked, with a pleading tone.

“What do I have to lose,” I replied, “Although, it’s hard to believe that you’d room with a pregnant woman.” He just laughed.

When we got to his building I found out that it was a luxury condo. The doorman knew Blake by name. As we rode up to the top floor in the elevator I was awed. “There is no way that I can afford this place. I work as a paralegal, not a hedge fund manager.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking,” he laughed.

It was one of the nicest condo apartments that I had ever seen, certainly in Charlotte. It had a great view of the city. It had two spacious furnished bedrooms each with its own bathroom, a completely glass wall in the living area with expensive and tasteful furniture, and a modern kitchen. I’m sure that I was gap jawed. “How much?” I asked.

“Well I was going to ask 500 dollars a month, but since you’re a paralegal and I’m an attorney, maybe you can do some legal research for me on weekends. I’ll give you the smaller of the bedrooms for 400 dollars a month.”

“That’s less than half market!” I said, flabbergasted.

“That’s the deal, take it or leave it; it’s not worth my time to look around for someone else,” he nonchalantly replied.

Blake moved all of my stuff up within an hour and gave me a tour of the kitchen, showing me how all the appliances worked. By then it was about 6:30 p.m. “How about some dinner,” he asked, rubbing his tummy “I don’t feel like cooking tonight, so let’s go out, my treat.”

“Only if I treat you.” I said, still unable to wrap my mind around my good luck.

In a two hour meal we found out lots about each other, and I confirmed some more things that I had tried not to be too obvious about before.

At dinner I found that we had lots of things in common. We both were adopted and never knew our birth parents. He loves the same types of food that I do; we even ordered the same entree and salad at the restaurant. He has the same optimistic outlook on life that I do. He has a cute nose, almost as cute as mine, another feature that I’m proud of. Also we both work in the legal profession and have a strong sense of justice.

We also have lots of differences. He is two and a half years older. He has different eye color, and differently shaped ears. We grew up in a different parts of the country. He hates country music (except Kellie Pickler’s videos) which is all that I listen to, and he is almost a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than I am.

Our first work week living as roommates exposed virtually no “issues.” I really liked his company and he seemed to enjoy mine. He gave me space when I needed it, and chatted when I was in the mood. As a bonus that I didn’t expect he made dinner every weeknight. I wondered how things might change on the weekend.

He had a number of athletic events both weekend days, but didn’t go out on dates any weekend night. He watched a pay per view movie with me on Saturday night, and Sunday night asked me to go bowling with him, and two of his male buddies. I was horrible, but the ribbing I got was completely good natured.

I had some real questions in my mind, though. I felt comfortable enough talking with him, to be straight forward about them, as we ate dinner together in the condo Monday night.

“Blake, it seems that you only have pro bono clients,” I said between mouthfuls of lasagna.

“Mostly pro bono cases, but also some court appointed cases that the public defender’s office can’t handle,” he casually replied.

“How do you make any money, let alone enough to afford this place?”

“That’s pretty personal, isn’t it?” he laughed.

“So,” I said, “I’m curious. You can either answer or tell me to mind my own business. Of course since I’ve got all sorts of preggo hormones flowing through me, if you tell me to bug off I’ll probably start weeping uncontrollably,” I retorted, with a devilish smile.

“Damn, I knew it was a mistake rooming with you,” he said with a fake sneer. “OK, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Deal,” I replied, before shoving a forkful of salad into my mouth.

“I’m independently wealthy, unfortunately my adopted parents died in a private plane crash when I was twenty two, and left me boatloads of money. That means that I do what I want, which is helping people who can’t help themselves,” he replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

“So am I one of your charity cases?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he grinned, and then laughed.

“Since you’re so forthcoming I have another sensitive question. Are you gay?”

He laughed again then with a snicker said, “So, because I haven’t made a pass at you, you think that I’m gay?”

“No, I’m just a sexless, chubby, creature. However, by all appearances, you turned down a liaison with walking-wet-dream Denise – which would make you gay.” I said, also with a snicker.

“Maybe she’s not my type. Maybe my type is 5’6”, blond women with a cute nose, big eyes, flawless complexions, long slender legs, and big bellies,” he said, staring at me with dancing eyes. “Oh wait,” he said mockingly, “that must be you.” Then he laughed.

“If I’m you’re type, then why haven’t you made a pass at me?” I asked, trying to act flippant, but inwardly starting to get serious.

“Maybe I need encouragement,” he laughed. Then he changed the subject.

Even though we both wanted our dinner conversation on Monday to be light, it apparently hadn’t really turned out like either of us expected. Things were a little awkward on Tuesday. Wednesday things changed.

When I got home from work on Wednesday my feet were killing me. I had worn the wrong shoes for someone now five months pregnant. Blake came in from work a few minutes after I did, and saw me rubbing my feet.

“What’s up, Kate?” he cheerfully asked.

“My feet are killing my poor preggo body today.” I groaned.

“Let me help.” he chirped. Not giving me a chance to respond or react he sat on the couch next to me, grabbed my feet, put them in his lap, and started rubbing them.

“Oh, that feels so damn good.” I moaned, after just thirty seconds of his attention. After two or three minutes two things happened. One, his cock got really hard, as my feet on his lap confirmed, although he appeared to try to hide his reaction from me. Two, my libido – which I had been trying to suppress for months, but which seemed to get stronger every day – started to get the best of me. My pussy started leaking I was getting so hot.

I was embarrassed by my reaction, and I knew that my face got flushed. I pulled my feet away. As I got up I said “Thanks so much, Blake.” Then I scurried into my bathroom and within seconds fingered myself to an orgasm. I recovered by the time that we ate dinner.

I wasn’t too worthwhile at work on Thursday, since I spent most of the day wondering if Blake wanted to fuck me. I started to believe that he did when he rubbed my feet again on Thursday night. I had to go get myself off again soon afterward. I decided that I’d find out for sure on Friday.

Before Blake got home on Friday I shaved any stubble on my crotch, changed into a short skirt, and returned to the living room panty-less. I was again rubbing my feet when he walked in. I was brazen. “Blake, I have no right to ask you because you’ve been so wonderful, but my feet are killing even more than last night. Can you rub them just for two minutes?”

“Sure, just let me change,” he replied, smiling, “I was in court today, and had to wear this suit, I need to get into casual clothes.’

My libido worked over my mind the entire time that he was gone. I was lying with my eyes closed when he lifted up my feet, and put them on his lap. I opened my eyes as he started to knead my feet and saw that he had only gym shorts and a T-shirt on. While he worked away, I stealthily moved up my skirt and spread my legs, exposing my naked shaved pussy.

I had my eyes closed, but apparently he didn’t. Suddenly, his hands were no longer on my feet, but on my thighs. I opened my eyes in time to see the wide-eyed look on his face, as it dove toward my pussy.

While it was what I wanted, I was still shocked by the intensity of his desire. His tongue, lips, and all ten fingers were furiously working on my pussy and pucker hole at the same time. Even if it hadn’t been what I had hoped for there is no way that I could have stopped him, especially after my first orgasm; it hit in about two minutes flat.

As my clit, anus, G-spot and labia were all being energized, at the same time, all that I could do was moan and pull his hair. By the time that he had brought me through three orgasms I was on the verge of an out-of-body experience. That’s when he turned me onto my hands and knees while we were still on the couch.

I buried my head in a couch pillow, as he flipped the bottom of my skirt onto my back. I didn’t even know that he had pulled out his cock, yet it suddenly was deep inside me. As he pumped in and out he stuck a thumb in my pucker hole, and with the other hand stroked my big belly. When his cum grenades exploded in my vagina it did result in an out-of-body experience. That allowed me to hallucinate that I was looking down on myself getting fucked more zealously than I ever had been before.

The next thing that I remember I was lying in Blake’s bed. Both of us were naked. He was tenderly stroking the side of my face with one hand, and caressing one of my pregnancy enhanced breasts with the other. A big smile came across his face when I opened my eyes, followed by a look of concern.

“I hope I wasn’t too forceful,” he said softly. “When I saw your bare pussy I went out-of-control. I guess you have figured out that I have had the hots for you since I first saw you.”

“Wow, do you need help,” I giggled. “Turn down a piece of ass like Denise, and instead get attracted to a preggo?”

“I would have been attracted to you whether you were pregnant or not. The fact that you were pregnant was just an added bonus.” he said with a serious tone.

“You like pregnant sex?” I giggled, still not believing it.

“Hell yes. The best sexual experiences of my life have been with pregnant women. By the way, in case you’re wondering, the session with you was number one!” he exclaimed.

I smiled, but didn’t say anything, a little too dumbfounded to speak.

“I hope that you’re ready for round two.” he then said, his look changing from serious to devious. He started kissing me, gently at first, then passionately, while at the same time he fingered my clit. I found his cock. It was already almost completely hard. I stroked it to a steel pole within a few seconds. My pussy started leaking, as he effortlessly picked me up and placed my slit just above his upright cock. I impaled myself on him, his cock slowly, inch-by-inch, disappearing into my impatient pussy. I groaned when he was fully ensconced, his signal to get to work.

In sharp contrast to the spirited pounding my pussy received the first time, this fuck was slow and gentle. Actually, given his tender manipulation of my boobs, and his slow upward movement of his pelvis when I moved mine down, it was love making. That didn’t make my orgasm any less intense. When it hit it was like a tsunami. Then he pulled me as close to him as my big belly would allow.

Eventually we had to eat something since my big body required sustenance. However, as soon as we were done we took a bath together in the over-sized tub in his bathroom. While naked, watched a movie, most of the time with my head on his shoulder. Then we went back to his bed where he doggy-fucked me senseless. After that I immediately fell asleep.

I woke up before Blake did the next morning with him in a spoon position next to me, one hand on my stomach, and the other my neck. After going to relieve myself, I returned to find him on his back still not really awake. I grabbed his half-hard cock. I slurped it into my mouth. I diligently sucked and licked it until he awoke with a start, shortly followed by a big smile.

Before I could suck him off completely he insisted on a sixty-nine with me on top. He licked my clit and fingered my asshole. About the same time as he ejaculated into my mouth I started to climax. I made sure that I got every drop, however, before screaming in orgasm myself.

The rest of the weekend was spent naked, fucking, and sucking. We stopped occasionally to eat, shower, or bathe together. By Sunday night my tits were red, my pussy was aching, my asshole was burning, and every muscle was sore. We fell asleep without a Sunday climax since we were both wiped out.

The Monday morning alarm came all too quickly. I would have loved to just stay in bed in Blake’s arms, but we both had to get back to the real world. Now that our impromptu fuck-fest was over, I needed some clarity on what the future might hold. As we rode down the elevator together I got on my tippy-toes. I kissed Blake on the lips and then said “We need to talk tonight.”

“Yes we do,” he smiled. “As well as some other things.”

“Bastard,” I laughed as I gently squeezed his balls, and then exited the elevator into the parking garage. However I didn’t exit quickly enough to avoid a slap on my ass.

It was really hard to concentrate at work. At four and a half months pregnant I was sans both an apartment and fiancé, and I was devastated. I went from that to euphoric at five and a quarter months pregnant; I lived in a penthouse-like condo with a hunk whose a libido as high as mine. Do I, pregnant with another man’s baby, really have a future with him? was the main question on my mind.

When I got home from an inefficient day at work, which required me to stay an hour later than normal, dinner was almost on the table. As usual I was starved, and scarfed down my dinner with the dignity of a truck driver as Blake and I exchanged information about our days. After I helped him clean up and load the dishwasher he said “Now let’s have that talk.”

“The talk” consisted primarily of me listening while as he held my hands he delivered a well thought out speech, occasionally checking written notes.

“Kate, I fell in love with you after knowing you for ten minutes,” was how it started out – just what a previously homeless pregnant woman would love to hear from a big, good-looking, rich guy. The speech stayed at that level throughout.

Some of the highlights were that our male and female parts were the most compatible of any in his experience, that our libidos were in sync, that it was his best sex ever, that we had lots in common besides sex, that he loved my body in every way, that he loved my mind and personality “almost” as much as my body (he got a poke in the ribs for that), and that he could see our relationship quickly going to “fully committed.”

Half way through his “speech,” I realized that I felt the same way about him as he did about me. However, I was having trouble wrapping my brain around the suddenness of the situation, even though I felt like I had known him my entire life.

When he was done, he said, “Was I too direct? Did I scare you or turn you off?”

“One question,” I said. “Were you really looking for a replacement boarder when you met me?

He got a guilty look on his face and replied “I plead my fifth amendment right against self-incrimination.”

I smiled devilishly, gave him a kiss on the lips, and then said “I’m too horny to think right now. Why don’t you fuck me, then I might be able to respond to your questions.”

He lifted me off the couch, turned me toward the nearest wall causing me to place my hands on it, lifted up my skirt, pulled down my panties, and fucked the living shit out of me. Be careful what you ask for, I chuckled to myself as my boobs pressed against the wall just before a massive orgasm hit.

Over the next three months he told me a dozen times that he loved me, and I believed it. I loved him so much it hurt. This was too good to be true. Fairy tales don’t happen in the real world..

The sex was incredible. We fucked virtually every day, each orgasm producing stick-of-dynamite intensity. We also usually made love once every day too. The gentle penetration of his love-making, combined with the fireworks of our fucking, brought me to a level of happiness that I didn’t know was possible.

When I tried to give him my rent check he would pretend to be a gigolo. In a horrible French or Spanish accent he would make gross comments. Then he would tongue and suck my clit until I begged him to stop. Then he would tie my hands to the headboard and fuck me doggy until I told him that it was the best sex that I had ever paid for; the bastard. He never cashed my rent checks.

We went to natural childbirth classes together. Everyone assumed that the baby was his and he never did anything to suggest otherwise. He supported me in every way, including catering to some really bizarre cravings, although he did insist on getting his cock sucked for some of the more outrageous ones.

Despite my increased belly size due to all the exercise I was getting, especially being fucked in every position possible for a pregnant woman, only my belly and boobs were big. The rest of me remained the same as before I was pregnant, except for a slight increase in the muscularity of my thigh, back, and arms.

When I was a couple days past eight months pregnant on a Saturday we outdid ourselves and fucked twice and made love once. When we returned from a play that night I was really tired. Seeing my obvious fatigue Blake sat me down on the couch and said “Now that you’re tired and vulnerable I have a question to ask you.”

“Please can it wait until tomorrow, Blake?” I groaned, not sure that I could even drag my ass to bed.

“No, it can’t,” with that he got down on one knee, pulled an enormous diamond engagement ring out of his pocket and said, “Kate Dee, I love you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me and listing me as the father on your baby’s birth certificate?”

I was dumbfounded. I wasn’t sure that this was the smartest move for him, but I would have been moronic to turn him down. With tears in my eyes, I said, “I love you with all my heart. Yes, but…”

He cut me off, “Let’s get married before the baby is born. We’ll get the license and take the blood test next week and get married the weekend after next.”

Despite my combined fatigue, joy and confusion, my paralegal-trained mind was clear enough to make one correction. “No blood test is required to get married in North Carolina, you know.”

“Yes I do,” he smiled. “I don’t mean a government test. I mean a complete blood test, including DNA workup. Since we were both adopted we need to know if we have any genetic conditions that could cause problems if we have children together. I badly want to have children with you but if there are problems we’ll adopt.”

“Can you get a DNA test and complete blood workup by the time we want to get married?” I asked, knowing from my paralegal work that in the real world that it is difficult to get test results with TV crime drama speed.

“I work almost weekly with a private lab. They’ll do anything I want; speed is not a problem,” he said smiling. Then he gently kissed me.

“OK,” was all that I could respond through my tears. He lifted me up, carried me to bed, took off my clothes, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I was now euphoric. I shamelessly flashed my gaudy engagement ring around, felt that I was walking on air despite my excess twenty two pounds, and knew that I had never been happier in my life. As promised he and I went for a marriage license and blood test the Monday after he popped the question. The blood for our test was drawn in a doctor’s office, not the lab. I asked him why.

“I don’t want the lab to know whose blood it is. It’s not going into any data base but still who’s workup it is is irrelevant to what they are going to do. I’m going to tell them that it is for a couple of clients who are thinking of marriage. I’ll tell them to release the results only to me or you — my secretary,” he said while grinning widely.

“You plan on fucking your secretary?” I giggled.

He swatted my ass with an even bigger grin on his face.

I took the day off work on Friday to makes plans for the short-notice wedding, including completing a list of the few people that we would invite, when I was interrupted by a ringing phone.

Hello, Kate Dee here,” I answered in my now constantly happy sing-song voice.

“Hello, this is Sue Stevens, the Director of Mecklenburg County Lab-Tech. Could you please tell Mr. Break that the blood and DNA tests for his clients are ready to be picked up.”

“Certainly, Ms. Stevens. I know that when I talk to him that he will want to know the results, so can you summarize them for me? You should have the information that I’m his secretary,” I excitedly replied.

“Let’s see,” Sue said. “Yes, I see that you’re authorized to receive the results. There are no genetic problems whatsoever; both individuals are clear of any genetically transmittable conditions. There is something odd, though.”

“What’s that?” I apprehensively asked.

“Well, Mr. Break said that the people being tested might be getting married?” Sue continued.

Yes, that’s right,” I replied now even more apprehensive.

“I don’t think so, because the DNA tests indicate that they’re brother and sister!”

A cold chill came over me and the phone dropped from my hand.

Thanks to that luscious lushie KissLoveKatie for being my muse!