3 Coins in the Fountain

Hi folks, this story was edited with great skill by Baney-R. Any goof ups probably happened when I went back over it and changed a few things. This is a longer story so those of you who like that sort thing can relax with a beer and enjoy it. Those of you who don't can get off of the bus now. But you don't get to whine about it later because you have been warned and have chosen to continue. Please note again, this is a longer story. So if you write in the comments below that it was too long you'll only make yourself look stupid. SS06

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The ads. We see them in a million places at all times of the day. They urge us to be more than we are. They urge us to be brave. They urge us to go beyond our ordinary existence and shoot for the stars. They urge us to go for our dreams.

"Just do it," they say. "No Fear!" "YOLO!" "Be all you can be!"

That bullshit is what got all of this started. My name is Madelyne Richards and this is my story. It's a really fucked up story so far but I'm still working my way towards the happy ending. A lot of the shit that happened to me is pure bullshit. I'm 100% sure you'll see it my way when this tale is done.

This all started about six years ago when I was thirty. I was happily married to the man of my dreams. My husband Reid is a chemical engineer and a very successful one. He has his own consulting firm. They do all kinds of work that most people never think about.

They do product testing for sports drinks, make-up products, automotive solutions and almost anything that needs to be proven safe for human use or consumption.

We had a lifestyle that was beyond comfortable but not quite rich. But at thirty, it was about to happen. I was about to give up my cushy lifestyle. I was about to begin twenty years or so of hard labor and poverty. I was about to lose most of my husband's love because of something I had no fucking control over.

My mother loved Reid. And believe it or not his mother loves me. I guess that's why they started putting so much pressure on us and wanted to make us leave our easy, carefree lifestyle and enter into the prison of being parents. They wanted to see my body transformed into something that more closely resembled ... Theirs. They wanted to hear the annoying pitter patter of tiny baby feet.

And God knows I wanted to hear it too. I just wasn't ready for it then. I mean on paper, I liked the idea of having a cute little baby. I also loved all of the extra attention I would get. And I looooooooovvvvvedddd the idea of Reid spoiling me even more than he usually did.

I could see myself bravely enduring the morning sickness and sending Reid on all kinds of errands to get me things that I just had to have. I could see the humor in sending him out in the middle of the night for some hard to find food only to find me asleep when he got back with it. I could also see humor in me deciding that I didn't want it, once I saw it, or barfing at the first taste of it.

But what I hated most was the thought of what it would do to my body. I had always been "the hot one," and I didn't want to give that up. I had no desire to become "the invisible woman. I didn't want to just be referred to as Reid Richards' wife. I didn't want that suburban mom body.

Sure there were a few very lucky women who were able to retain their shape and some who actually snapped right back after a pregnancy. But they were mostly super rich Hollywood types who had their own nutritionists and personal trainers and body sculpting surgeons on call. I hated those bitches with a passion.

And even worse than them I hated those track bitches. My husband Reid is an avid runner. He ran track in college and loves to watch those TV track meets that the rest of the world forgets about until the Olympics. There's always some bitch in those meets that took a year off to spit out a perfect baby and then runs her skinny ass back into shape and sets a world record.

Every time I see that shit it makes me want to chase her skinny but muscular ass around that track and beat the shit out of her.

And that was where this story started. My mom had just left after another afternoon of veiled hints and outright whining about not having any God damned grandkids.

I was really pissed. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd told my mother to get fucked, but Reid took her side.

"You're right, Mom," he said. "It's time."

I was speechless. I stood there watching her hug him, while I, the designated brood mare, tried to find words to describe their outright audacity at their decision to turn MY body into an incubator or baby factory for children that I wasn't sure I was ready for.

"You get right on that, Reid," gushed my mother. I hated that bitch at that moment.

"Yes Ma'am," he said, right back to her. "I'll get right on it." Even as he said it, he reached over and smacked my ass, while my mom looked on with glee.

She walked out the door a few minutes later, grinning like a demented Cheshire cat.

As soon as the door closed behind her I slapped Reid on the head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked. "When did WE decide that it was time for us to start our family? My mother does not get to decide what happens with MY body. I mean, I know that you've been sucking her dick to stay on her good side, and I love you for that. But this is something that WE have to be ready for. We can't just start spitting out kids because my mother wants us to have kids now, so she can be a hot grandma."

"Here's my logic," he began. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My husband's logic is not logical. He's the same guy who decided that since that price of superchargers seemed to increase with every generation, he should invest six thousand dollars and buy one for his Mustang, because in a few years it would cost even more. That was three years ago. And it didn't quite work out that way.

While the superchargers for the newer Mustangs WERE, in fact, more expensive, the ones for his Mustang had actually stayed the same and with available discounts were actually much cheaper.

Now this is where his logic fails. Reid saw this as a wash. Sure he could have saved a few bucks, but it would have meant waiting a year or two for the supercharger. In his mind it wasn't worth it.

But in the real world, why the hell did he need a supercharger anyway? What roads were there where four hundred plus horsepower just wasn't enough? I can't think of a single situation where he just had to have over six hundred horsepower.

Maybe it was some kind of guy thing. Because whenever someone came over to visit us Reid inevitably showed them his Mustang. The women always went, "Oh ... It's a car," end of conversation. But the guys always asked, "How much horsepower?"

I have no idea why he didn't just tell them it had six million horsepower and be done with it. I mean there was no way to prove it. He always opened the hood and showed them all of those shiny pulleys and wires. And they always nodded their heads up and down. They leaned over for a closer look and pretended they understood it all.

I asked my dad about it once and he finally admitted to me that he had no idea what all of that shit did. He just nodded and smiled because he didn't want anybody to think that he didn't know what it was for. But I had to go and marry the one idiot who really understood that shit and craved it.

So anyway, when Reid started trying to explain his logic about us having a kid or kids, I got scared.

"Since we know we're going to eventually do it anyway," he said. "Why not just go ahead and do it? Let's just knock one or two things off of the B4K list and then knock 'em all out at the same time. In five or six years it will all be over with."

"Okay Reid what the hell is a befork list?" I asked. "And when did we have one? What the hell do you mean knock 'em all out at the same time? And last time I heard your kids are with you for at least eighteen years not five or six."

He sat me down at the kitchen table like I was an idiot and he had to slow things down enough for me to understand him. The B4K list included all of the things that we'd dreamed of doing that would be curtailed or at least hindered by having kids.

The crazy thing was that Reid was not just pulling things out of his ass. He'd included almost every stupid thing that I wanted to try and his things too.

He'd remembered things that we'd talked about when we first met. I was surprised that he'd remembered that I wanted to learn to surf in Hawaii or that I wanted to learn to ski in Colorado. Hearing him talking about things that I had dreamed of doing when I was younger as if they were really important almost made me cry.

It made me realized exactly how much the idiot loved me.

"So let's go to Europe first," he said.

I vaguely remembered one of his Indiana Jones like fantasies about exploring old castles and new racetracks around Europe. I also realized that I had promised to accompany him. But those had been the promises of a very young woman who was madly in love with the man of her dreams.

The key word here is "MADLY." In other words, I was fucking crazy. My love for Reid was so intense that I'd spent nearly every waking moment, thinking about him. As we spoke in those early days, I wanted him to know me and love me. I wanted him to know everything about me and love me more. But my fear of being ridiculed or rejected caused me to hold back just one secret.

Come on don't be so shocked. We all have our secrets. I have one. You have one too. Don't pretend that you don't. I know about that hidden file folder on your hard drive buddy.

My secret is a small one. It's a phobia really. Hodo-phobia is the fear of travel. There is no fucking way Reid is going to get me on a plane, train or ship. Shit, I Pat Benatar 4, every time I get into a car.

Anyway, somehow I never got around to ever mentioning this to him ... Or to anyone else.

"Uhm ... Reid, Honey, this might not be the best time to go to Europe. You know they've been having all of those terror attacks ..." I said, nervously.

"Okay, so we won't go to France," he smiled. "And I had no plans on going to Belgium anyway. I mean seriously ... Missing France would be tragic, but outside of the chocolate factory and the Jean Claude Van Damme museum what is there to see in ..."

"It's not just France and Belgium," I yelled. "This is just not the time to go to Europe. It's just not safe."

"So ... When will it be a good time?" he asked.

"We don't have the money," I said trying to change the subject."

"Yeah we do," he said. "I opened an account just for this trip more than three years ago. A part of our taxes each year, every bonus I've gotten and a lot of my overtime money has been funneled into it. We have more than enough. I've also been putting money away for another Mustang, but I can hold off for a few years. I'm not really in love with the new body style. So if I throw that money in with the Europe money then we can ..."

"We could have redecorated the house when I wanted to last year," I screamed. "And we could have bought that fucking Gazebo I wanted for the yard ..." I just walked away from him in mock anger.

But I knew it wasn't going to be the end of things. He actually came to me later and apologized for saving money for our trip. He'd told me that he'd wanted to surprise me with the trip when he thought we had enough money. He also told me that when it came to Mustangs, he was like those people on hoarders. He would probably never have enough of them. Then he kissed me and I just lost focus.

I have no idea how Reid does it to me, but Europe was no longer even a blip on my radar. I wrapped my arms around him and my legs around his waist. His hands grabbed my ass to hold me against him, while he tried to suck my soul out of my body. His tongue was so far in my mouth it was almost down my throat.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. We had too much in our way, so our clothes began to vanish.

In record time, Reid had me flat on my back, with my legs in the air. When he entered me, it was pure bliss. We fit together like a hand in a custom made glove.

My pelvis rose involuntarily to meet his every thrust. Meanwhile, our mouths continued to merge. I love his taste. I swear our tongues become one when we kiss.

His hands tweaked my boobs with just the right amount of pressure. He tugged on my nipples while caressing the body of each breast as if they were the most important things in the world. My tits weren't big, but they fit my frame and Reid seemed to like them.

His hands rubbed down my sides and finally grabbed my ass. He pulled my ass cheeks apart and began to slam himself inside of me even further. The added penetration sent chills throughout my body.

A stirring deep inside me told me what was coming. It felt as if a portal to my soul was opening just for him. I began to sweat and my nipples felt as if they were enlarging.

My pussy started to ripple, but there was something else going on. I was experiencing feelings that I never had before.

Normally when I'm about to cum, my mind shuts down and all I can do is feel. The ability to think leaves me. But this time was so different. I had a vision. I saw images of myself with a blown up belly.

I saw Reid, rubbing my tummy and talking to our child in the womb. That was when the first orgasm hit me. It was the most intense feeling that I had ever experienced.

I knew then that Reid and my mom were right. It was time for me to put being a girl away. My body was ready to make a baby. I had to get off of the pill and start picking out names.

We fell asleep on each other's arms and sometime during the night, I woke him up and told him the truth.

Reid then did a completely Reid thing. He told me that going to Europe really didn't mean that much to him. But knowing him the way I do, I knew that he was lying.

"Honey, why don't YOU go," I said. At that moment, more than my vagina was gaping open. My heart was so full of love for Reid at that moment that I felt like that love struck 22 year old again.

It just seemed unfair for him to have to give up his dream because I was afraid to fly or to get on a ship.

Besides, I didn't want there to be any resentment between us in later years. When we hit our fifties and could barely stand each other, I didn't want to hear him telling everyone we knew how he didn't get to go to Europe because I was afraid.

So barely three weeks later, I was kissing him goodbye at the local airport. I gave him one of those kisses that everyone in the area becomes jealous of. It was the kind of kiss that let everyone watching us know that being away from each other was probably going to kill us.

Older women in the area remembered when they were like me. Younger women in the area couldn't wait to be me. And every man who saw us wanted me.

I'm not the most beautiful woman in the world, but I'm okay. It's not my looks that made me desirable. It's the way I plastered myself to Reid. As we kissed I molded myself against him so tightly that not even the tiniest micro organism could get between us.

My boobs flattened against his chest. Our bellies rubbed against each other and our lower abdomens meshed. It was the type of hug that only people who are intimate and have been so for a long time can do.

It's a funny thing because men and women view things differently. Women who saw us got the idea that we loved each other very much. Men who saw us were sure that I was giving him pussy on a very regular basis.

The drive home from the airport was almost more than I could stand. I texted him at least five times before I got home.

I spent a lonely night in front of the TV and went to bed but couldn't sleep until he answered my texts. It was awful. I had never been so lonely in my entire life. I felt as if a part of me was missing.

The morning brought no relief. In fact I felt worse. I was going crazy. My best friend, Nancy came over. And as we sat in the sun on my rear deck, I told her about my problem.

"I miss him too much Nance," I said. "I wish I'd gone with him."

"Then go," she said rolling her eyes. "Just go where he is. Surprise him!" She got an evil look on her eyes as she said it.

"I can't," I said after a few moments of consideration. "I must be Mr. T's long lost white daughter." She started laughing then.

"Why would you think that?" she asked.

"Cuz, I ain't gettin on no plane, Hannibal," I said, making my voice sound deeper and rougher.

"Well, he'll be back in less than three weeks, Honey," she said. "And a few days after he gets back, he can tell you all about it. He can tell you about the museums, and the art, and the clothes, and just how it felt to be in Europe. You know I've always wondered if Europe was kind of like the US. You know how every state has its own unique flavor, but all in all, no matter where you go, it just feels like America."

Sometimes without meaning to or trying to, Nancy said some of the smartest God damned things. There were times when she sounded so smart that I forgot how stupid she really is.

"Wait ..." I said. "What do you mean a few days after he gets back?"

"Well, for the first few days you two will be too busy fucking each other's brains out to talk about anything," she laughed.

"Will not," I said, turning a bright shade of red.

"Bullshit," she spat. "I've heard the two of you going at it. Just the other night, you were yowling like a fucking AlleyKat."

I quickly changed the subject just as I heard the screen door next door slam.

"I can't wait to hear about all of the art," I said. "I hope he remembers to take pictures. Reid really isn't big on photos. When I text him, I'll have to remind him."

"Yeah, I'm sure old Reid will be lookin' at a lot of ... ART," laughed a male voice from over the fence.

"See, that's what I was thinking," said Nancy. "You just heard it from his best God damned friend. Great minds think alike, right Kyle?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked. I knew that Nancy had been trying to get with Kyle since she first met him.

"You heard Kyle, Dummy," she said. "Your husband, without you being there has turned this trip into some kind of European pussy hunt. He's gonna be fucking everything that ain't nailed down in several different countries. I told you that you should have taken your ass over there.

You could have just taken a sleeping pill just before you got on the plane and slept through it. Now you're gonna have to deal with him bringing you back all kinds of deadly European VD.

I've heard they have shit over there that not only resists antibiotics but gets stronger from them. It comes from the fact that they don't shave their legs and their pits."

Nancy was off on one of her rants. But the things she said had affected me. As she geared up to start again, I heard Kyle laughing uncontrollably.

"So when he gets back, you have to confront him, and demand a bunch of jewelry and a new car," she said. "Make that motherfucker kiss your ass for a while. Make him eat your pussy whenever you feel like it."

"I already have all of the jewelry I need," I said. "And he just bought me a new car. Right before he got his new Mustang. And ... It's kind of none of your business, but he already does eat my ... You know ...whenever I want him to. But if he does what you think he's doing, we'd be talking about a divorce."

Kyle continued to laugh even harder and Nancy looked at me like I was stupid. "I don't understand," she said. "You love him. You love him a lot. Why would you want a divorce?"

"Because he's over there cheating on me with a bunch of sleazy European whores," I said.

"Are you crazy?" she said. "All he's doing is trying out some different women. It's nothing serious, it's only sex. He's gonna pick up some new techniques and bring them back here to try them out on you, Dummy. It will spice up your marriage and make it fresh. He won't love you an ounce less. It's only sex. He'd be stupid not to do it."