Darcy and I had been married a few years. We had one child and had talked about having at least one more, but finances were an obstacle. So we kept putting it off.
It was December, and we were having a Christmas party at our house. Darcy had had a couple of drinks and for some reason we hadn't had sex for a couple of days. There were a dozen or so people in the house and the music was playing; our daughter was at Grandma's for the night. Darcy leaned over to me and whispered, "You want to go upstairs?" I could immediately feel my cock harden and I whispered "Yes!" And without making a big show of it, but not particularly being secretive either, we held hands and went upstairs. We locked the door of our bedroom and stripped naked in near-record time.
Darcy put a couple fingers in her pussy and inspected what she found. "Hmm, I'm very fertile. You'll have to wear a rubber," she said. Darcy wasn't on birth control, but we used a combination of condoms and withdrawal to keep from making baby #2. "I don't want to," I said. "I hate condoms." Sometimes Darcy would make an issue out of this and I'd put on the rubber, but this night she just shrugged. "Do me doggy?" She asked. Darcy loves doggy-style; my balls banging on her clit bring her to climax every time. She rolled over on all fours and pointed her pussy at me. She was very wet.
I slid my naked cock in her and she gasped. She began her first orgasm almost immediately. Her Kegel muscles contracted as she came, and I fought back the urge to spurt myself. In a moment I was pounding her again, my balls slapping her love button into another climax.
Darcy was not working her way to her third orgasm and I was starting to time when and where I'd pull out. Darcy started to pant again and I suddenly realized that I was about to go off like Vesuvius. "I'm cumming," I said. "Don't . . . cum . . . in me . . ." Darcy groaned, between pants. "Pull . . . out . . . I'll . . . get . . . preg . . ." But instead of trying to disengage, she actually pushed back so my shaft was as deep as it could possibly be and her clit was grinding into my pubic bone. Nor did I even try to pull out; I pushed in as deep as I could and started to spurt with the best orgasm I've ever had in my life. As the first spurt of semen hit her cervix Darcy's Kegel muscles contracted in a blinding orgasm, and she milked my penis for seven or eight more squirts. Finally she collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"For what?" she asked.
"For cumming in you. I probably got you pregnant." "So?" she said, rolling over. "That's what sex is for. Don't apologize for the best orgasm I've ever had. Here, help me, put this pillow under my butt," she said, putting her knees up in the air and elevating her bottom.
"What are you doing?" I asked?
"Making sure it doesn't run out," she replied. "We're getting a baby out of this one." She was right. Eight and a half months later, our second daughter was born, two weeks premature. We'd already decided to throw out the condoms and never use birth control again; I pull out when I can but if we're having really really good sex we take our chances.
Because, after all, every time we see Daughter #2, we each think, "There is the best orgasm I ever had."
