Where Shopping is a Pleasure

At no time did Beulah ever get jealous or complain of her role in our triangle. We knew the unbelievable passion that now drove me and my daughter. In the hospital before the fifth baby, Beulah was there. As my lovely daughter Ellen was being wheeled out of her private room, I stopped the nurse. Kissing my baby daughter, I caressed her milk-filled breasts. As Beulah stood by smiling, the nurse was shocked as I frantically suckled her warm, sweet milk and kissed her again. Finally, the impatient nurse had to 'peel me off' Ellen in order to get her to the delivery room. For the first few birth events, I was right there in the delivery OR. It got to be too emotional for me and I instead would sneak into the observation glass deck above the OR. I'm very ashamed to say that even seeing the delivery of our baby was exciting. From the moment of labor to the smack on the behind of that precious bundle of joy, I was not only rock hard but going off like an open fire hydrant. I had to wear the largest condom they sold. By the time the physician handed that new child to the nurse, I sat down, almost fainting. The first time I did all of this, including the condom, I was shocked to see that the condom was the size of a beach ball, filled to overflowing. I would then discard that thing in the trash and rush down to the recovery room to see Ellen...and our new baby.

That's what would happen for babies four through ten. That is except for that time after baby seven was brought into this world. I was huffing and puffing, catching my breath. As usual, I had that huge overfilled condom to dispose of. I removed it, made the usual knot in the long plastic leading to the bowl section, and started to put it in the waste basket. At that moment, a 50-ish nurse I recognized from the corridors took the condom from me.

As I looked into her eyes surrounded by lines, she told me that her husband had tried to start a family with her for years, to no avail. It was a long shot, she said, but she would dump the contents of my balloon there into her still barely fertile insides, in a forlorn hope.

Her shift allowed her to go home at 3pm. She was there before her husband came home at 5:35pm. With a modicum of excitement and change from her humdrum existence, she got this big cake frosting applicator. She carefully opened the condom and poured that precious seed into that cake froster. Handling it like it was filled with nitro, she brought it into the master bedroom. She propped it up while she disrobed. Holding it upright, she carefully fell back, lifting up her still lovely legs. She finally inserted that applicator into her depths, with its opening near her own opening. She squeezed and squeezed and squeezed on the bulb that would send all of that valuable liquid into her unprotected and oh-so-very-receptive womb. She carefully then lay still for two hours with legs raised. That was the moment when her husband came home. She resolutely refused to have any sex with him out of fear that that inferior male would somehow disrupt or dislodge the seed of the superior male (i.e. me). It was all academic the next morning, anyway. That middle-aged nurse's time had just about passed. Thankfully, during the night she had conceived.

Six weeks later, when I was back at the hospital clearing up some billing, who should I run into but that middle-aged nurse. She came up to me and kissed me...right on the lips. She whispered that I had done it, though she told her husband that it was his. He could now feel pride in 'getting it done', but she wanted me to know that it was my potent seed that had knocked her up.

Years later, with Ellen and her hired girl taking care of the herd of infants, I decided to take a long vacation with just myself and a new and much slimmer Beulah. We weren't sure where we should go, but it being spring and all, we flew to Fort Lauderdale, just for fun.