The Martyr Option

"John, dear – I was reading that doing it doggy style is the most effective way to get pregnant. Maybe we should start practicing that way."

John normally liked missionary, but that was the most disgusting way for me to do him. If he was reaming me from the rear I could most easily visualize that it was Brian and thereby minimize the adverse effects of my martyrdom.

"Really?" he asked. "OK, let's do it."

I was able to think solely of Brian while we fucked doggy, and I actually had an orgasm – the first time that I hadn't had to fake one with John in a year.

John brought a contract home the next night; I made one small change to it and then we both got in the car with Nancy and drove to an all-night drugstore that had a Notary. We signed in front of the Notary, and when we got back home I make a big production of throwing out my birth control pills. John wanted to fuck once more – the first time for two nights in a row in three years – so we did it doggy again, and I was actually able to climax once more thinking of Brian.

I had a regular period so it was easy to calculate when my fertile days were, and to be sure that John and I never fucked those days (or if I had to I thoroughly douched afterwards), and during my fertile days Brian and I fucked at least twice in the best position for getting pregnant (which was not doggy, but face-to-face with my ankles on his shoulders) and I stayed in that position for a few minutes after he withdrew.

I have to say, making a baby with Brian was the most fun of my life. We were both so enthusiastic before and after, and so passionate during, that our endorphin levels increased exponentially. I had never believed that the expression "made my toes curl" was based upon fact, but with Brian it was real. Also, I never believed that someone could be fucked comatose, but that happened with Brian half a dozen times in the first two months that we were baby-making.

I think I know the day that I got pregnant. It was a Monday, right in the middle of my most fertile period. Because we almost never could get together on the weekends and we had conflicting schedules the previous Friday, Brian and I hadn't fucked in four days. Also, I hadn't fucked John and Brian hadn't fucked his wife in that time period either.

That Monday was one of the few times that we actually got a motel room since we could leave the kids for three hours instead of the normal two. The first fuck was so wild and passionate that I actually flipped off the bed – fortunately the pillows and comforter had long before preceded me onto the floor so I landed on them and not the bare carpet. Brian was actually above me, and his cock was deeper than it had ever been when he ejaculated a monster gravity-aided load into my pussy. After Brian withdrew I stayed in that position – with both of us giggling (that is Brian was giggling when he wasn't sucking on one of my tits) for a good fifteen minutes before I moved.

"Brian – I have a premonition that that one did it. I'm so sure that maybe we shouldn't fuck again today."

"Oh, Amy, baby – but I'm so horny."

An idea popped into my head. "Have you ever tried anal?"

An evil smile came over his face. "Nooo...you dirty little devil. Have you?"

"Nooo," I chuckled, "but now's the time."

We found some nice body lotion in the bathroom, he lubed his fingers up good and poked me with one, two, then three, and reamed me with them for a few minutes. Then he lubed up his cock and slowly penetrated me. There was a "pop" when he passed my sphincter – up until then I was in a little discomfort, but after that I was fine. While it certainly wasn't as good as vaginal, I did have a small climax, and he happily deposited a full load.

After he washed off his cock, as we lay cuddling and fondling each other I asked, "So what did you think of anal?"

"It was nice – but I much prefer vaginal if that is available. How about you?" he replied.

"Ditto," I smiled. Then I noticed his dick twitching. "You know, I'm not very experienced with blow jobs," I snickered, "but we don't want to waste our extra hour of time together and I want my baby-daddy to be happy, so let me try and resurrect that thing," I continued, nodding toward his cock.

He smiled.

I gave him the best blow job that I could while simultaneously kneading his balls. While I was working on him he fondled my tits or flicked my clit depending how I was positioned at various points of time. He was very grateful when I swallowed. It wasn't the best experience for me, but he was very happy – so that meant that I was.

My premonition was correct. That wild fuck at the motel did it. I did a home pregnancy test immediately after I missed my next period to confirm it and made sure that John fucked me that night and the next so that he would think that the timing was right for his little swimmers to hit pay dirt. In my next visit to my OB/GYN she confirmed my state, and I gleefully told John.

Four things happened with my pregnancy. The first was that I only had morning sickness for a couple of days, much less time than with Nancy.

The second was that Nancy seemed to calm down slightly – but perceptively – and was fascinated with my pregnancy (which I told her about as soon as I told John) and constantly wanted to stroke – not hit, which was her normal M. O. – my tummy.

The third was that I was as horny as a cow that had consumed a hundred pounds of female Viagra with fifty bulls to service her; in other words, truly hot-to-trot. Brian and I were finding ways to fuck almost every day, and I was even coming on to John (as long as he understood that it would be doggy style) even on days when I had fucked Brian two or three times. The pregnancy orgasms that I had with Brian were, impossibly, even more powerful than the pre-pregnancy ones; I was losing consciousness for a few seconds almost every time.

The fourth was that I never felt physically or emotionally better, or happier, in my life!

Brian came with me to my natural childbirth classes – but obviously was not in the delivery room. John was less than worthless in the delivery room, but fortunately I had an easy labor.

When my little boy Carl was born I was almost sad – except that he was so adorable – because my libido went back to normal and my pregnancy glow disappeared. Most importantly, however, Carl was normal in every way; no trace of any emotional disorder. John proudly boasted that he looked just like John's father – which I nodded my head to. In actuality, by the time that Carl was two he looked just like Brian, but I made sure that John never met Brian.

Shortly after Carl's birth a number of things happened – not precipitously, but gradually.

The first was that both Brian and I realized that our sexual attraction had morphed into true love. It was the first time that I had ever been in love, and Brian said it was a first for true love for him too. Even though having baby Carl around put some damper on things, Brian and I were able to get together about twice a week – we no longer fucked, we made love. It was lucky that my mammary glands were efficient because after we made love Brian wanted to compete with Carl for my milk. He couldn't suck as well as Carl could, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Although John hit a temporary happy and stable period immediately after Carl's birth, within six months he lapsed into depression. By accident I found some heavy duty pills that he had discarded in the trash. When I looked them up on the Internet I found out that they were for severe bipolar disorder, and that it was likely that he had been taking them the entire time that I knew him. What wasn't clear was why he tossed them.

John's condition deteriorated so much that a year after Carl's birth his partners kicked him out of his business – although the monetary settlement was large enough so that there would be no financial problems the rest of our lives. John started getting paranoid and had security cameras installed all over our house. With John around the house and off his meds my Martyr Option was becoming unbearable, even with twice weekly romps with Brian. Fortunately, John had lost all interest in sex because I now definitely found him repulsive.

I finally decided that regardless of the consequences, I was divorcing John. I talked with Brian about it and knew that I could count on him to provide whatever help that he could – given his limitations. I also consulted with and hired an attorney that I trusted; she advised me that especially with the large cash settlement that John had recently gotten that there was no problem with providing for Nancy if we divorced and that there was no way he could stop me from getting my fair share of our assets.

With the kids put to bed for what I hoped would be the entire night, on a Monday I told John my plans.

"John, since you've stopped working and gone off your meds, life with you has become unbearable. I'm filing for divorce later this week and will be looking for another place to live with the kids unless you move out."

"Why you ungrateful bitch – what about 'until death do us part?'"

"John, you're constantly mentally abusive, Nancy is afraid of you, and you haven't paid more than passing attention to Carl – the baby boy that you just had to have – for months. You're not anywhere close to the man that I married. I just can't take it anymore."

"Why you fucking whore," he yelled, then slapped me. I screamed, and moved away from him. He pursued me around the island in our kitchen but he was in horrible physical shape and I was in great shape, so he had no hope of catching me. His yelling woke up Nancy however and when she came into the room he slapped her too. I ran over, picked my crying daughter off of the floor, and pushed John away. He grabbed a kitchen knife and came at me.

Shell-shocked Nancy and I moved around the island a few times and when in proper position I told her to run outside and bang on a neighbor's door. John made a move toward her and I knew that I had to act so I tackled him and was able to grab the hand with the knife in it with both of mine.

I was stronger than John at that point in our lives. Although I never admitted to it afterward I knew what I was doing when I moved his hand with the knife toward his chest and buried it in him. As blood gushed from his wound I immediately got up and called 911. He died on the way to the hospital, the knife still sticking out of him from the single blow to his chest.

With only John's prints on the knife, Nancy's story, my statement, and – of course – cinched by the video from one of the paranoia-induced cameras that John had installed, I never spent even a second in jail, and no charges were ever filed.

As soon as the maelstrom surrounding John's death simmered down, Brian filed for divorce and he and Emily moved in with me. In exchange for a favorable monetary settlement his wife didn't even contest him getting full custody of Emily – his wife never was, especially considering her own emotional problems, able to handle Emily anyway.

The first day that Brian moved in was the first time that we were ever able to spend the night together. I thought that the sex prior to that was fantastic – but even better was getting fucked in the middle of the night. Yeah, at that point we normally made love, but when he woke me up about 3 a. m. by licking my cunt it wasn't love making; it was raw jungle animal passion as we pumped, bucked, bit, swore, and squeezed. It was so awesome that we had to do it again the second night, and the third, and the fourth...

Things really started to go our way. Not only did Brian's divorce come through quickly, but shortly after it did a new medication came on the market that really helped Emily – it essentially made her normal with no real adverse side effects. Unfortunately it didn't help Nancy's condition, but Nancy had also improved significantly from behavior modification counselling alone.

As soon as Brian and I got married – about a month after his divorce was final – we started on the glorious quest of making another baby. I was pregnant within two months and thankfully this time my libido did not ramp up – it remained normal. If it had ramped up like the last time I probably would have fucked poor Brian to death.

It is now four years after little Jackson was born, so we have two girls and two boys. Nancy is as well-adjusted as can be expected given her condition, and Emily and the boys are living happy normal lives. Brian and I are more in love than ever and our already fabulous sex life continues to be enhanced by our middle of the night romps at least once a week.

I'm no longer a martyr!