Surface Tension Ch. 01

A prospect formed in her now very confused, excited mind: could she stay married to Tony, and spread her legs for Edgar? Was she capable of that much excitement and passion? She tried to convince herself that she could never do that; that it wasn't fair to her husband. She had made vows to him. But she wasn't convincing herself and in her excitement she visualized it. Very vividly. It was giving her the excuse to freely imagine lovingly giving her sex to Edgar without hurting Tony.

Tony had let her go, even for a time. Other girls have pleasure with other men while separated from their husbands. Many don't wait to separate. Could she be like those girls? Would her conscience allow that?

Could she really give in to physical need? Could she stop it? Did she want to? Could she allow herself to believe that she and Tony would not get back together? Could she believe it just long enough to do something desperate? Was it fair to her to have to sit there—by Tony's choice—being tortured with passionate desire and burning need with no hope of relief? He had made vows to her, too. And where was he when she was in such agonizing need?

Then again, would Edgar accept her this way—only half of her?

She then wondered if she could do that while leaving anything left for Tony. If she shared her body with Edgar, he might have her soul as well. He had her passion and excitement. Did he already have her soul? Did she even want Tony back? Reminding herself that all this was fantasy gave her the willpower to allow herself to imagine it, and she edged inexorably closer to a breathtaking orgasm. Shocking herself, she pulled her fingers out of her puffy wet lips and slid off her wedding ring. It was her symbolic fantasy gesture of giving herself to Edgar.

As the sounds upstairs got more intense, she could hear the woman cry out, "Please. I'm fertile, you need to pull out. Cum on my tummy, honey."

Edgar's deep, commanding voice said, "God, I want to cum in you..."

Their movements resumed for a minute until the woman gasped, "Please! I can't have a baby!"

Between thrusts he grunted, "Love to give you a child my sweet—." Again, it sounded like he had called the girl 'Gina.'

"Doris," the girl again agitatedly corrected him.

It was the first time in her life that Gina genuinely wanted a man to get her pregnant. She had never even completely considered the concept before; it had always been an abstraction for the future. She sincerely wished it were her up there spread for Edgar, willingly taking him inside her. She wanted him to give her a baby. Imagining herself in Edgar's bed—ovulating for him, open, lovingly accepting his seed deep into her—Gina could control herself no longer and thrashed wildly, squirting all over the carpet in frenzied burst of orgasm. The beautiful notion of him impregnating her had come out of nowhere and run over her like a train. It had triggered the orgasm of her life and left her immobile, breathless.

She realized that her release had been so violent that she had cried out in her ecstasy. She struggled to control her gasping; realizing that all noise in the suite above had stopped. As it gradually occurred to her that in her passion she had breathlessly cried out his name—"Edgar"—she started to panic. Her heart was pounding even harder—now in fear.

As the desperate yearning to be inseminated by Edgar that had consumed her yielded to shocked worry and mortified embarrassment, she was gripped with the horror that it had gone too far; that her passion for her fantasy lover was out of control. Not only had she been consumed by this obsession with him—far from being a harmless fantasy anymore—but she was now sure that Edgar knew how she felt and almost certain that he felt the same way.

Shaking, she cleaned things up in a panic and quickly got dressed and hurried out to go for a walk. She was nearly in tears with crippling terror, fading excitement, mounting frustration, and deepening sorrow.

She was utterly shocked that she had been so completely consumed with the blissful craving to be inseminated by Edgar. She nearly collapsed realizing that if she had been with him earlier, she might have completely lost control of both her senses and conscience and willingly allowed him—almost a complete stranger—to impregnate her. She knew she would never have been able to do what the other girl did and insist that he pull out.

Well clear of the apartment building she struggled to get to a bench by the library, which she fell onto and broke into tears. She couldn't control her trembling. As she realized that she would still do it if he wanted to, she was terrified.

If anything happened between her and Edgar, she knew that she would beg him to impregnate her. Knowing what he had said with the girl in his suite, she knew that he would lovingly oblige her. She gasped in horror that she might fantasize about their mating from now on, uncontrollably. She could easily believe that whenever she was aroused from now on, she would be imagining it—the moment of conceiving Edgar's child. It was the most intense pleasure she had felt, imagining him seeding her. Could they already be in love with each other, just from that first meeting and catching a few glimpses of each other and exchanged smiles? Could she really want to have his baby? She had a clear thought: if Edgar held her and whispered in her ear that he wanted to get her pregnant, she would beg him take her, to mount her, to fertilize her egg and make a baby with her. How did she get like this?

It must be pure lust. She didn't really love Edgar, did she? He was warm and sincere, yet devastatingly charming. He was attractive and very sexy, and his powerful presence suggested virility; robust vitality; commanding procreant vigour. The impressive lump she had seen in the crotch of his trousers had burned into her mind after all. She had never really noticed an attraction to black men before, and he had commanded her attention. There was certainly dangerously uncontrollable desire. But did she love him?

Sitting there trying to stop shaking, she thought that maybe she really did. She loved everything about him and she was convincing herself that he loved her, but he wasn't her husband. She had to accept that what physically felt more right than anything could morally be so terribly wrong. She had to stay away from Edgar until she could feel Tony's arms around her; could feel him take her back and reaffirm their love and keep her safe from her perilous weakness.

She knew that she missed Tony even more than she had at first believed. She had a need to share passion and pleasure with her man. After collecting herself and getting up, she walked again for a long while. At length she stopped and pulled out her phone, hands still shaking.

There was certainly more to this than lust, but maybe the larger part of it was her need to have a baby. Her hormones didn't care whether the father was Tony or Edgar; it was time to make a baby. It suddenly seemed such a likely explanation for the awakening of her passion out of the awkward doldrums of her adolescence and the mediocrity of her and Tony's tepid marital couplings

She knew that she would be ovulating in 2 days, and needed to be with Tony. She needed to make a child with him and give him everything; to give him back her body and soul; to convince him that the time was right to make a family with her. It was what she needed and felt so strongly that it was what they both needed—to be a family.

It occurred to her that her fantasy for Edgar had likely only been dangerously misplaced desperation to be inseminated by her husband. While far from reassured that she could make her new mission work, she bravely resolved to try her best. She dare not imagine the consequences of failure as she dialed.

Continued...