Fisherman's friend. Ch.8

I wake up predictably sore the next morning, both upstairs and down, headache, fanny ache. Incredibly I also wake up to Tom spooning me... with morning wood.

Jules gave up his double bed for us while he slept on his son's old bed in the spare room, the others crashing where they could, all exhausted.

I let Tom gently penetrate me from behind but quickly realise that my poor fanny is too tender so he has to pull out, but I promise to give him a blow after I've showered and had breakfast.

After getting clean for the second time in hours and having some painkillers, then a simple breakfast of sweet tea, toast, I begin to feel a little more human. During this time the others have started to wake up and go about their morning routines, all rising with an appetite, and not just for breakfast for it soon becomes clear that Tom is not the only one nursing morning wood, all my boys 'suffering' the same condition.

As I'm too sore to accommodate anyone downstairs this morning I cure their stiffness with my mouth instead. Sitting on the two seater sofa where all this began the other night, I'm gathered around and blow each man in turn starting with Jules, ending with Tom.

It doesn't take long, all the guys climaxing pretty quickly, indeed, afterwards I bring up a question, as I've often encountered this with Anthony before, are men more 'randy' early in a morning?

My enquiry draws familiarity from all of the boys, each agreeing that they do tend to get more easily aroused in the morning, the reason for this being unclear.

What the guys are sure about however, is just how amusing my semen induced hiccups are, all finding my predicament, which lasts almost a half hour, very amusing.

With my oral duties finished we gather our things together and Jules, who's eager to get us all out the cabin and begin cleaning up before his wife returns, leads us back through the woods to the nature reserve car park and from there we bid each other a good weekend. As we all need a rest it's agreed that I'm having today off from my normal fishing club routine.

It has been a truly amazing experience for me, simply the best sex I've ever had, everything that I imagined it would be and so much more.

My journey from shy, timid wallflower to confident, cock hungry slut is now complete. I'm so far away, at least privately, from my former self that I hardly remember that naive young woman anymore.

However, as much growing up as I think I might have done... I'm about to have my world turned upside down.

**

I have had late periods before, so don't think about it too much at first, my main focus is upon enjoying this incredible sex life, to revel in being desired.

The gangbang was out of this world, a new level of utmost pleasure, little old me, Sarah taylor, surrounded by eager dirty old men, their cocks standing to attention all ready for my affections.

All I could think about in the days and week that followed was doing it again, I needed that badly.

I still had Tom and Jules in the little shack, and the second saturday after our group session, because of the eagerness I expressed to Tom in wanting them all together again, he arranged with Jules for one of our other friends to discreetly join us in that shack.

The first time being with Roy, then it was planned that each following saturday it would alternate to one of the others, at least that way I'd have three to myself while arrangements could me made for all of us to be together once more, and this time I was determined to have Jezza join us no matter how shy he is, he'd be alright once he'd had a drink, at least, that's how I saw it anyway.

**

Now mid september and an unprecedented nine days overdue I was getting very worried. Pushing to the back of my mind anxious thoughts of, 'what if?' wasn't a solution, although blissful ignorance is the easy option I had to do something so purchased a pregnancy test and carried out the procedure... which turned out to be positive.

Annoyed, upset, and now extremely worried I went out as soon as I could and bought another test, this one being more expensive and more accurate... positive again.

Panic filled my mind, 'I'm on the pill I can't be!' A poor innocent voice inside my head protested, to be met by the cruel, cold, logical voice of reason, 'Yes you can... the pill isn't a complete guarantee you won't conceive... and besides... you're having so much sex now you are a slut to all those dirty old men... that little pill didn't stand a chance.'

After the initial panic had worn off a little I started to focus on what needed to be done, first I had to make an appointment at my local doctor's surgery.

Once that had been done I had to tell someone, oh boy, was I in trouble.

**

"Pregnant!" Tom blurts the word out so loudly that an old couple sitting a few tables away suddenly glances toward us, their bemused expressions causing Tom to quietly curse under his breath, we are after all, trying not to attract too much attention.

It's just after seven on wednesday night and our midweek 'date' in a restaurant we've visited a couple times before, far away from our homes. We don't always meet up during the week now that I'm seeing Tom every saturday but if the chance arises then we take it.

I've just informed Tom of my big piece of news, as carefully as I could.

With the couple's focus back on their meals and each other, Tom continues in hushed voice, elbows on table, head close to mine as I copy his pose leaning in toward one another.

"How can you be pregnant you're on the pill... aren't you?"

There's doubt and a little suspicion in Tom's tone, before I put him in the picture using very similar words to what my own voice of reason had delivered to me a week earlier.

"The pill is not a hundred percent effective... it's close but I can still conceive... especially with the amount I've been taking from you lot."

My tone must have contained a degree of blame, probably in retaliation to his suspicion, but I don't mean it. He's quick to point out that it takes two to tango, which is correct of course and I don't try to defend that, instead jokingly pointing out that it's more like eight to tango in our case.

This brings a grin to both our faces, a brief, light hearted interlude to the start of a conversation that's serious. Tom is the first one I've told so far, I'm intending to tell Anthony next, which is going to be way more difficult than this.

Anthony doesn't want children because they mean responsibility, he's told me that himself when we discussed having kids a while back. It was me who brought the subject up as I've always wanted to have children, but he doesn't so that was that.

Our grins soon fade away and we both take a drink before continuing to discuss the situation, Tom asking questions, one of them being, do I want to keep it?

I tell him that I do. When first realising I was pregnant my initial reaction was to panic, which is probably what around half of women in the same situation do. However, when this had subsided I concentrated on what needed to be done, seeing a doctor for a start, this being an example of a less anxious and more organised state of mind.

During this time I was aware of another emotion in the background, slowly taking the place of anxiety... contentment. Deep down I was happy about my 'predicament'.

We continue discussing what this means to our relationship, both with Tom and his friends. It's agreed that initially nothing would be affected, I still wanted to see him and the others, I wouldn't be 'showing' for a while yet so we had options, they could be informed right away or some time in the near future, it really didn't matter.

The plan is to carry on doing what we normally do, then when the baby is born Anthony will naturally accept it as his, which there's a one in seven chance it could be. My secret life with Tom and his friends can continue while boyfriend is blissfully unaware.

There is one slight problem however. I'd learnt over these past months that none of Tom's friends has had a vasectomy, I'd known for most of the time I'd been seeing him that Tom hadn't received the snip either, this meant that any one of them could be daddy... any one of them.

Anthony was the youngest and therefore the most likely to be the father as he produces younger, fitter sperms.

But, considering all of the others there was one who stood out... Lewis.

If Lewis turns out to be the father then I really am going to be in trouble, as Anthony would know immediately upon seeing the infant that I'd cheated on him.

There was nothing we could do about this so I tried to put it to the back of my mind, changing the subject and focusing my attention on Tom and our night out together instead.

After an excellent meal and several more drinks, some chatting, we leave the restaurant. Tom drives us out into the countryside down dark and winding roads, getting more narrow and secluded as we go.

Then, when the perfect spot is found he parks up and we embrace, leaning across the center console passionate kissing ensues, heavy nasal breathing, car windows steaming up.

Soon I have his cock out his trousers, sucking and licking it to a full, throbbing erection.

Once ready for me, we relocate to a spacious back seat where I'm roughly taken from behind while still mostly dressed, knickers pulled down to my knees, skirt pulled over my back.

The secret kinky word I have for Tom now has another meaning, for as I fervently whisper while heading for a big climax, "Oh daddy yes... yes... yes... yes... daddy please... yes... give me it... please daddy please..." It's at the back of my mind as I'm sure it is Tom's, that he could easily be the daddy for real, of my unborn child.

It's this thought, plus everything else, the sleazy nature of the backseat and possibility of being seen, how hard I'm being fucked, Tom's breathless cursing as he grips me so tightly... that pushes me over the edge.

We both come at the same time, car's gentle rocking motion suddenly ceased... Sarah and Tom locked together in ecstasy.

Another night of cheating brought to a perfect conclusion.

**

It was decided on our way back after the passionate country lane session, that Tom could inform his friends that week, about their little tart's condition.

This he did, and when the following saturday came around I encountered a different, more 'serious' atmosphere down at whisper lake, at least initially. It was fascinating to observe each man's reaction to the news that he could be a father again.

The first of Tom's friends I visit is Roy, who's immediately apologetic for the 'problems' that he may have caused me.

I defuse his guilt with humour, saying that I'm hoping it's just one problem I'm having rather than twins or triplets.

It works well and we soon leave the matter behind us, smooching passionately in his fishing shelter, Roy's guilt quickly swallowed up by lust.

Next up is Jezza, who asks for details about what will happen when the baby is born, then suggests maybe a paternity test at some point in the future to find out who the real father is.

Tom and I had discussed doing such a test after the birth, out of curiosity, just to see which one of them is daddy, unless of course it's Lewis, then no test will be needed.

Jezza seems concerned about the possibility of becoming a father again and I get the impression that if he is the father then he'll somehow want to be a part of the child's life, however small a part that may be.

This earns him much endearment in my eyes, and after a reassuring chat with him we move quickly on, Jezza's concern melting away like Roy's guilt... it's amazing just how distracting my bare boobs are to a guy.

Next up is Lewis, the big man is aware of what will happen to me if the child is his, my relationship with Anthony will most probably be over. He shows concern at this but it doesn't feel genuine, it's like he's pretending.

While we chat I'm getting the impression that he's secretly hoping to be the father, putting this down to a kinky aspect of Lewis I've encountered before. While spanking me during doggy sex he does get very excited, masterful and carried away in the moment.

It's during these intense encounters, usually when he's just about to come that he says vulgar, sleazy things like, 'Gunna knock you up bitch.' Or, 'Gunna breed you now bitch.' Amongst others.

He has mentioned an interracial breeding fantasy before during our intimate conversations, in which he gets a white woman pregnant.

Lewis's favourite porn to jerk off to, apart from those featuring submissive ladies, are the cuckold variety or breeding videos featuring black men and white women. During our chat he alludes to this, making sure that I know it's just a fantasy and he didn't mean for it to now potentially be real... again... I think he's fibbing.

If he is the father then he's ticked off both his cukolding and breeding fantasies together.

All this talk of breeding inevitably leads to a long smouldering embrace with lot's of passionate kissing, and it's not long before I'm laid down underneath Lewis on my back with legs splayed, sweating, panting, quietly moaning... begging Mr Williams for his cum.

After I've recovered from a good 'seeing to' by Lewis, Lee is next, who I find is indifferent and a little cold about the possibility of being a father again. His attitude is, 'Well I'm still getting what I want so who cares?'

Also I get a strong impression that Lee believes he's not the father.

He loses his cum in my mouth while I'm on all fours, him kneeling in front, reaching back with his hand, a finger in my bottom.

Although mostly starting out with serious reactions, the guys quickly accept what's happened and just as rapidly get down and dirty with me. After all it must be a very popular, older, red blooded male's fantasy, to 'knock up' a much younger woman... prove he's still got it.

That morning's session ends up as usual, with me rather sticky.

**

"Pregnant!" In a repeat of Tom's previous reaction, Anthony almost shouts the word into my face before abruptly standing up off the sofa where we'd been sitting side by side, looking back down at me like I'm some kind of leper

'Perhaps he thinks it's contagious.' A small, mocking voice in my mind comments.

I had meant to inform Anthony after Tom but I'd been putting it off, afraid of his reaction, so in fact he's the last of my lovers to know.

Apparently my fears are now being justified as he goes off on a rant... angry... cursing... incredulity.

"How can you be fuckin pregnant?!"

I'm about to reply but he quickly follows it up with a cursing repeat of the first question, "You're on the pill for fucks sake!... how?... how can this fuckin be!" Here he turns away taking a few steps into the room, arms wide out and fingers splayed in dramatic pose.

I calmly try and explain, telling him that the pill isn't a hundred percent effective and that I can still conceive, which is pretty much what I told Tom last week.

For Anthony though, he just can't take the news that he's going to be a father, well, probably.

So, there's a few more heated words from him before announcing he's going out, slams the lounge door, then a minute later bang goes our front door as he goes off in the 'daddy' of all sulks... yeah I know... cheesy... but I couldn't help myself.

I'm left feeling alone and very down at his behaviour, it crosses my mind that I'd be feeling a whole lot worse if I hadn't cheated on Anthony and could be sure this new life inside me really was his, being made to feel terrible like this by him, like I've done something hideously wrong.

But, I've grown up a lot in these past months and certainly in the previous few weeks, matured, is the word.

So, I deal with the situation.

It is to take my boyfriend a long time to catch up. In the days following my big news there's confrontation from Anthony, he thinks I've secretly come off the pill, not told him because I'm 'selfish' and I want a child wether he wants one or not.

There's not much I can do to convince him otherwise, even showing him that the contraception pills I have left on the blister pack correspond to how many I've had to date, which he accurately points out means nothing, as I could just be removing them from the blister and throwing away.

It's kind of a good thing really, that Anthony believes I've tricked him with the pill, I'd rather have him barking up the wrong tree than suspecting what I'd really done.

It lingers on like this, arguing, tension, distrust, private guilt from me. Those first couple months it seems like we're heading for a split up, those first months... are horrible.

At least at home.

Elsewhere, namely my secret life down at the fishing club with Tom and his buddies, things are perfect. Although feeling a little rough I fortunately don't suffer morning sickness in those first two or three months. My boobs are another matter however, the nips feeling particularly sensitive and sometimes sore after just a little attention on them.

As my love life with Anthony has been suspended, I get what I need from the boys who are more than willing to satisfy their much younger mistress.

The onset of winter means that my saturdays down at the club are disrupted by weather conditions. Tom, ever resourceful, comes up with a solution to this in the form of an old van he owns but rarely now uses.

Putting it back into service by sprucing up, giving it a good clean and equipping with a single mattress in the back...

This proves very popular with us all, we can fit Tom, myself and one of Tom's friends up front in his van, the rest follow us in one of their cars. Once we find a nice quiet country lane one of them stays in the car to keep watch and rest join me in back of Tom's van, where pent up lust is unleashed. After they're through with me I then take care of the lookout's needs.

As my body begins to change, a noticeable 'bump' forming, my mood begins to change too. I feel so alive and healthy, and subsequently... more horny.

I've heard that pregnant women 'glow' which is a figure of speech of course, but I do feel like I'm glowing from within. I simply can't get enough, the guys don't know what's hit them, I'm described as being like something possessed or more crudely a 'bitch in heat' by Lee and Lewis.

Jezza, who had been a little shy about performing in front of his friends, soon gets in on the action with us, his desire for me overcoming nerves.

My bosoms, now full of milk, become a source of great excitement and interest, as well as nourishment for all the boys, some of whom, because their wives in the past during their pregnancies thought it distasteful, have never tasted breast milk before.

It is at this time too, when my baby bump becomes noticeable, that Anthony starts to come around, realising what an arse he's been.

Finally accepting fatherhood he apologises for his 'appalling behaviour', Anthony's words. He makes it up to me with dinner at a posh restaurant, afterwards, and once back at home I'm reintroduced to our love life, something which despite all the attention I've been getting I welcome wholeheartedly.

Apart from my craving for sex I also develop a taste for peanut butter, marmite on toast and bizzarely... a cigarette.

The latter being very odd because I've never smoked, I'm certainly not about to take up the habit especially while expecting, but I have to fight hard against the urge for a cig.

As time goes by and I get bigger it becomes more difficult to do our little excursions in the van, to quiet, secluded country lanes. Also I find my appetite for sex waning somewhat as the due date steadily approaches.

By spring of the new year my activities with the boys have been reduced to the occasional blowjob session down our favourite country lane, I'm too delicate for the fishing club.

Then, in may, and a month early, I go into labour.

**

Baby Archie is born on the ninth of may, premature and a little underweight at just four pounds. Anthony was there at the birth and although I was exhausted plus high as a kite on gas and air at the time, it did register that upon seeing 'his' child, my boyfriend didn't react with shocked surprise then aim a cruel, accusing stare at me.

Upon setting eyes on my son for the first time I do notice how tiny he is, a fragile looking pink thing, who just happens to now be the most important person in my world.

Oh, and the second most notable thing about baby Archie, is the small amount of bright ginger hair on his tiny head...

**

Motherhood is a shock to the system but one I rapidly get used to and learn to love. Fortunately there's no post natal depression, apart from feeling constantly tired for that first month I'm fine, I have always wanted to be a mum and now it's finally happened I'm over the moon.

Anthony too, is loving his new role as father. He does mention our baby's ginger hair, but doesn't make reference to the possibility of his girl cheating on him, either jokingly or otherwise.

You see, he thinks that his dark hair and my blonde added together in the gene pool makes a ginger, but I know different.

It doesn't work like that, it's to do with a red haired gene, but I don't bore Anthony with such trivial information.

He's happy where he is... wallowing in blissful ignorance.

The end.

Epilogue.

In the coming months after giving birth I'm on cloud nine, a very proud mum. Baby Archie flourishes within our family unit, he grows quickly, putting on weight, suckling seemingly constantly.

In those first few months I don't really think about sex much at all, which is odd for the 'new me'.

My focus is on my son and little else.

I don't even worry that childbirth has somehow affected my libido, reduced it to almost nothing.

Tom still keeps in touch, by phone only, at least at first. He knows that I'm busy with Archie, he understands. The boys are asking about me, when will they see me again, they know, as does Tom, about Archie's appearance and who I strongly suspect the father to be.

They're all comfortable with this, although I suspect that Lewis will be secretly cursing Jules under his breath.

Jules, the little guy who started out by giving me the creeps but who I soon accepted and finally became intimate with.

It was obvious to me when I first saw Archie, who his dad could be. It wasn't just the ginger hair and how small he is, or the fact he was premature and underweight... it was in my genes.

The red hair gene I made mention of earlier, the chances of a couple having a ginger haired baby are significantly higher if both parents have it, either directly in themselves or indirectly through their own parents, grandparents.

I'm a natural blonde and Anthony has dark hair, as does his direct relatives.

My mum is strawberry blonde but her mum, my granny, used to have fiery red hair when younger, so I have the ginger gene. And of course, Jules is ginger... both parents.

My strong suspicion is later confirmed with a swab paternity test, the result making Jules very proud, happy, and several hundred pounds richer, as the guys couldn't help themselves having a little bet on who's daddy.

Around mid august during the long hot summer holidays, my libido, which had been long absent begins to return, and by early september I'm back at the fishing club entertaining all the boys who are shall we say, very pleased to see me.

We do try using condoms initially but neither my lovers nor myself like the bloody things. So, a decision is made to stop using them, after all, what are the chances of the pill not working a second time?

And in any case, what is life without risk? It's risk that adds the spice.