The Surrogate #6
Troublesome Thoughts
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I slept soundly and alone until around midnight. I wasn’t sure if the thunderstorm woke me or if it was a gradual intensifying of my subconscious thoughts that provoked me from slumber.
I slipped into my secret corridor, stopping halfway along to watch lightning strikes hitting enormous rods projecting upward from New York’s tallest buildings.
Rain lashed my window, beading quickly and running down the glass like rivulets of icy cold, but although I shivered, wearing only a pink with gold lace silk negligee, I knew it was warm outside.
In my study room, I pulled a few books from the shelf and began reading case law about surrogacy. I needed to brush up and understand where my life was headed regarding potential pitfalls.
A heavy knock at my study room door startled me, and I lifted my head from a book, seeing drool that had dribbled onto the wooden desk surface while I slept.
It was 7 a.m., and I’d fallen asleep.
I shuffled to the door, still half asleep, opened it, and was surprised by the beaming woman on the other side, wearing her gym attire.
“Hi, Amy. I worried you didn’t show up at the gym this morning. Is everything okay?”
“Hannah… yeah, sorry, hi. I feel drowsy. Can you give me an hour, please?”
“Make it two because I need to finish my session. Maybe I’ll see you in the kitchen later for coffee.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Fuck, why did I agree to meet?
I had University lectures starting mid-morning and needed time to revise beforehand, so I quickly showered and groomed, availing myself of the beautiful study gift and getting up to speed on a lecture about indigenous people’s rights.
Wearing my signature jeans with a pink t-shirt and sneakers, I got to the kitchen a few minutes after Hannah had, considering the wisdom of that choice, as soon as I saw her looking a little sad.
“Late studying last night, Amy?”
“Yeah, and I have to revise again now, so I have about half an hour before I leave for lectures.”
“I missed you this morning at the gym.”
“After one meeting?”
“Sorry, yeah… it’s kinda lonely here, and I felt we connected.”
I can’t connect with you.
“Do you have any friends, Hannah?”
“Only athletes, so the conversation usually revolves around cadence, calorific intake, and which coaches hit on you the most.”
“Sounds awful. Do coaches hit on you a lot?”
“Yep. They see the body, like the face, enjoy the engagement in personal matters like my menstrual cycle and hormone levels, and then dive right in feeling that I must need comforting and support.”
“I’m sure yoga pants have prompted many pregnancies.”
“Yeah. Maybe you should wear them all day.”
She giggled nervously, and I followed suit politely, but I strictly applied my prime directive, steering clear of any discussion that probed deep into her business or mine.
Don’t become friends, Amy.
“Could we become friends, Amy?”
Oh fuck!
“Umm, Hannah… it’s not that I wouldn’t like to. You’re an iconic sportswoman I greatly admire, but surely you must see a conflict of interest.”
“In what way?”
“Okay, let’s try honesty. You want to become my friend because you’re lonely but also to bring you closer to Victor.”
“That’s true in the first part, not so much in the second.”
I admired her honesty and that Hannah’s body language and expression showed no defensiveness or hostility. I wasn’t calling her out, but being forthright was the only way to survive in this eclectic, almost bizarre household.
“It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, although I know Victor would prefer me to leave.”
“And there you have it, Hannah… it’s none of my business, and what you just said is completely innocent girl talk, but it’s kryptonite for me.”
“Isn’t that a tad dramatic?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Can you spell it out for me, Amy, because it just feels hurtful.”
I sipped my coffee, thinking of the best analogy to make my point. Hannah was a lovely person I didn’t want to hurt, but it increasingly occurred that I was the only one in the household fully considering my child’s needs.
“When I leave here, Victor and I will stay in touch. If my child ever has a medical emergency and doctors need to understand my history or, god forbid, an organ donor is required, I can step up.”
“What does that have to do with befriending me?”
“That’s the only contact I want to have with my child.”
“I still don’t see the connection with my problem that you won’t become a friend.”
“If my child wants to know me when they reach adulthood, there are provisions in Victor’s contract with me to provide for that. It will be their choice.”
“Okay, and you’re worried a friendship between you and me might prompt that?”
“Exactly. You and I become friends for the next year, and then twenty years after that, you’re sitting here with my child, spinning yarns about my pregnancy, telling them how wonderful I am.”
“Prompting her to track you down?”
“Her?”
“You’ll have a daughter, Amy. I’m certain of it.”
“I doubt I’m even pregnant yet.”
“You’re ovulating, though. Through my sport, I’m an expert in women’s menstrual cycles, so I can tell. When is your next period?”
“Thirteen days from now.”
“You’re at the height of fertility.”
Exactly the conversation I didn’t want to have.
“Forgive me; I must leave now, Hannah.”
“I want you to know I’m weaning myself off Victor.”
“Okay, but It’s none of my business sweetie.”
I almost sprinted away from Hannah, careful neither to befriend or offend. When Greg pulled the car out front, and I slipped in, the early morning rush hour gave me time to think.
I need to manage sex with Victor and my cycle a lot better.
This month is probably a washout, but I should try harder and fuck him more frequently.
That’s why he wants me to control our sexual contact.
How could I be so obtuse? He made the point over and over.
I cursed my lack of preparedness, resolving to figure out a copulation calendar to discuss with Victor. At school, I went directly to the empty lecture hall assigned, took up residence in the middle, and began revising a few final points of law.
The class discussed First Nation rights using Australia, rather than our own country, as a case example. Professor Henderson was a favorite scholar of mine and pointed at me, always keen to drag his students into the debate.
“Why am I using Australia for this study example, Amy?”
“We are mostly Americans and have formed opinions around our specific cultural challenges regarding indigenous rights.”
“Absolutely correct. Anything else?”
“The situation in Australia is very different, which adds complexities, frictions, and possible litigious aspects we don’t have here.”
“Profoundly correct, my dear. Well done.”
Our lecture went well, and his cheerleading squad surrounded Professor Henderson at the end as I gathered my things to leave. He raised a hand, waving at me, shouting across the hall.
“Amy, could you meet me in my study, please?”
I nodded and left by the side entrance, walking an extended access corridor to his sanctuary amid a row of academic and small study library dens. I let myself in, as was his standing instruction to all students.
His study was a disaster zone, with papers strewn across every desk, dozens of books open at specific reference pages, and piles more on the floor.
He arrived after ten minutes, shook my hand, and sat behind his desk, looking studiously at me.
Please don’t.
“Don’t breastfeed this baby. Doing that will make it impossible for you to let go.”
Oh dear, you did it… here we go.
“I’m not taking advice or opening myself to discussion on the matter, Professor.”
“That’s why I said it before you rebuffed me.”
“Objection, your honor.”
“Sustained Amy, however, the jury can’t unhear what I said.”
“It’s true. Can we move on now?”
“Yes, of course. I want you to know that I am available for any online tutorials you need when pregnancy happens. It’s free of charge.”
“Do you mean if I can’t make it into class?”
“Yes. You are my finest student ever. I want to help you any way I can.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“You can call me Simon when we’re alone. If you ever need help out of hours, please message me first; my husband and I have a pretty hectic social calendar.”
“Oh. I had no idea you were gay.”
“I don’t tell anyone, and the only reason for disclosing that to you now is so you don’t worry that my offer is an attempt to hit on you.”
“I didn-.”
“Amy, you’d be a poor lawyer if you didn’t consider it possible.”
“Well, okay. Is that all for today?”
“Yes, we’re done. Good luck, Amy.”
Before I could shut down the discussion, he’d used a classic lawyer trick to make his point. Breastfeeding was an issue; I knew that perfectly well, and the dilemma between giving our child the best start possible with mother’s milk or walking away to avoid attachment was occupying some of my thinking time.
Greg hung around near the parking lot at an old Citroen van converted into a coffee shop. He was reading when I slipped in beside him with a small cup of espresso.
“Are you having coffee, Amy?”
“No, but we have plenty of time, so please enjoy yours.”
“Thank you.”
“What are you reading, Greg?”
“Another biography about Picasso. I study fine art at night school.”
“Ahh, a hidden benefit of working for Victor?”
“Yes. He pays my fees and books.”
I was getting a vibe that Victor was a philanthropist at heart, both close to home and from a much broader perspective through his foundation doing good work for the homeless that I’d read about.
“I like Picasso’s sculptures more than the paintings.”
His eyes lit up, and I knew instantly Greg was an art fanatic.
“Most people don’t know Picasso was also a fantastic sculptor.”
“The University is putting on a show at the Wallach gallery in a few months. Should I get you a VIP ticket?”
“Wow, Amy, that would be so kind.”
“Consider it done.”
As a prominent student, most faculty heads knew who I was. I occasionally snuck into other faculty lectures, picking up basic knowledge to expand my broad education base.
“How do you know so much, Amy?”
“Knowledge is power, Greg.”
“Indeed it is.”
On our way home, I messaged Victor.
I’m at my peak ovulation. Could you move back into your old bedroom until a day or two after ovulation ends, please?
Are you sure?
I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.
Yes, of course.
What is your refractory period, Victor?
About half an hour, why?
We should try to fuck at least six times a day while I ovulate.
Fucking hell, Amy. We should definitely both delete these messages when you get home.
I felt aroused, giggled, caught Greg’s curious look in the rearview mirror, and stifled my laugh. I wanted Victor to fuck me, and thinking about that dampened my pussy, making life inside my knickers and jeans a little warmer than was optimally comfortable.
At home, I skipped through the front door, sprinted upstairs, avoiding the elevator, and arrived at my room door with a couple of holdalls sitting outside and Victor lingering.
“I thought you could access my room.”
“I can, but I never shall without your permission.”
“Oh. I hadn’t considered that.”
“It’s not my sanctuary, Amy.”
“For the next few days, you have an open invitation to come and go as you please.”
“We’ll have to get another key card authorized.”
“Are you serious? You don’t already have one?”
“Yeah. If I use my emergency access code to break into your room, an alarm goes off in housekeeping, and they come running.”
“Jesus Victor. I didn’t realize you were so serious.”
“About you and our baby, I’m deadly serious.”
“So I see.”
He seemed sincere, and that calmed me. Victor’s family and Professor Henderson had proven that my life was not private, and no matter how much I wanted it to be, there would be occasions when people felt they had a right to interfere or express an opinion.
I set down a blue, overarm satchel full of books inside my room and turned around, shocked to see the most gorgeous sight.
“You are naked. That was quick.”
“You invited me for the sake of our child. I am here, ready, willing and able.”
“Your cock is already hard.”
“Yes, it is. Thinking about you stimulates me.”
I stepped closer to him and caught the light scent of his musky pre-cum. I imagined Victor had salivated since our message exchange a few minutes before my arrival, which prompted his creamy arousal.
He held me close, and I felt his heart thumping hard against my breasts. His lips had a strawberry flavor when we kissed, and I chuckled inside that my baby’s daddy wore balm. His lips were sticky, and our kiss felt heady.
The tongue flickering in my mouth was passion-filled, vibrating lightly. Victor pressed a thumb into my spine, running it slowly upwards to the top of my neck, spreading his fingers wide, gently cupping my head.
“Wow. What the fuck, Victor?”
“You felt that?”
“Wow, wow, wow. I’m so fucking turned on.”
His kiss, the palm gently holding my head, a massive stiff cock poking my stomach, and a spare hand clenching my ass cheeks, clawing through the denim fabric, sent me wild, and my knees gave way.
“Was that nice?”
“Yes, bu-.”
“No but’s please, Amy. Let’s create our child from a place of mutual admiration and joy.”
“Yes, Victor. You’re right.”
I can do mutual admiration and joy six times a day.
While cradled in his arms, I unfurled an elastic from a wrist and carefully tied back my flowing hair into a tight ponytail.
“Why are you doing that, Amy?”
“I want to suck your cock before you fuck me. Is that enough joy?”
“Plenty for me.”
“I enjoy sucking cock, Victor, although I’ve never dislocated my jaw and relaxed my throat for one this wide or long.”
“I shall not force you.”
“I know you won’t.”
He made me feel confident about my safety. The fact Victor never interfered with how I dealt with his family suggested he had evolved beyond tribalism, and he held me in high regard.
My submissive slutty girl emerged when I crouched, sliding both hands down Victor’s back, enjoying his uncontrollable trembling arch backward. When I slipped my fingers between his ass cheeks, my baby daddy gasped and stared down.
“I showered as soon as you messaged, Amy.”
“And then you got aroused and filled your foreskin with a salty treat for me?”
“Yes, sorry.”
“Oh, please don’t apologize. I shall enjoy cleaning underneath your foreskin.”
“Jesus, fuck, Amy. You are such an incredibly sensual creature.”
“Only since I arrived here, lover.”
Lover? What the fuck was that? Get a grip, Amy.
I got carried away, drifting on a hedonistic cloud of lust that fired my libido, shattering the stoic facade I had created as a barrier to Hannah, Simon, and the risks of falling in love. It was a temporary state, hormone-induced and not real, but it felt nice to enjoy Victor, enjoying me.
I’m just feeling turned on.
When I gripped his cock with both hands, its stiffness felt remarkable. I saw translucent gel-like pre-cum pooling at the end of his wrinkly foreskin, growing heavier, threatening to drip into a teardrop and fall onto the floor.
Victor flinched when I slid my tongue into the small hole around which his skin pillowed at the end of his cock. A salty taste and burning sensation spread quickly through the soft tissues of my mouth, exploding every taboo synapse in my head. I spread my feet wider, avoiding the wobbliness I felt arising from an overwhelming intoxication.
He tiptoed, whimpering delightfully, and in my submission, I felt his power transfer to me. Victor rifled his fingers through my hair gently, making no attempt to force his cock inside my mouth.
Which one of us is dominating the other?
Why am I so fucking obsessed?
I’m enjoying this for what it is.
I peeled back his foreskin, sucking the glans fully to its rim, licking every drop of salty veneer coating his tight, swollen flesh. My mind swarmed with overpowering emotions that I fought off, but a descent into a profound desire for Victor inevitably defeated me.
I relaxed my jaw, which had become sore, almost locking up. Victor’s cock was immensely more filling than Justin’s. It also tasted and felt better, not being forced down my throat. I enjoyed running my lips up and down his shaft, flicking the banjo string with my stiff tongue, clenching hard until compressing his bloated urethra while his cock throbbed.
Victor moaned lasciviously when I increased my pace, sucking his solid, gnarly flesh harder with the vim and vigor of a slut driven insane for cock. I cupped his balls and squeezed gently, massaging the tiny, smooth stones inside like they were a much-vaulted prize.
When I slid a finger onto Victor’s perineum, rubbing hard, he moaned noisily while I slurped up and down two-thirds of his ten-inch cock. I choked gently, loving the feeling that I was giving as he had done with his tongue on my creamy slit for me.
I want to service your cock.
My god, it is immense.
Victor hopped from one foot to the other while I steadily wanked his shaft with one hand, activated his prostate gland with the forefinger of another, and sucked more than six inches of a ten-inch shaft that somehow managed to cram deep inside my throat.
I drooled onto the carpet and felt the dimple on my chin fill with saliva as I choked, retched, and spat while desperately devouring his cock.
He tapped my head gently, a sign of his impending orgasm, but I didn’t care, ignoring the warning, throwing caution to the wind, and being damned by the outcome.
“Amy, I’m going to cum soon.”
“Amy, please.”
“Oh god, Amy.”
The first hot rope of semen coated the back of my throat, choking me. I sucked harder, wanking his cock with a twist, massaging his prostate, and taking his baby-making seed in the wrong hole without caring.
I need this.
I fucking want to taste his semen.
Fuck! That tastes and feels so good.
Having Victor cum inside my mouth felt life-affirming because I fed on the most private part of him and the essence of the man that would father my baby.
I sucked longingly, massaging and masturbating every drop of his seed, holding on to his cock for dear life, fearing the moment I would have to explain why I had drained his semen into my mouth.
When his cock jerked uncontrollably, Victor’s body trembled like a frightened baby doe in a thunderstorm. I stopped, gazed up, and blew tiny cum bubbles on my lips, savoring the last few drops, swilling them around my mouth before swallowing.
“Nobody ever did that, Amy.”
“You’ve never had your cock sucked?”
“Yes, but no girl ever wanted me that entirely.”
“I was repaying your excellent tongue from yesterday.”
Lying bitch. You wanted him badly.
“I feel so happy right now, Amy.”
“Will you join me in bed? We can relax for an hour until you recover, then we can fuck.”
“I received your calendar proposal.”
“Do you agree with the schedule?”
“Yes, of course.”
I slipped under my duvet, snuggling close into him, enjoying that the taste of semen didn’t deter Victor from kissing me. He felt warm, and his clean cock was already at half mast, but I wanted more, no, all of it to pound my hole, filling me entirely.
“Hannah left our house.”
“Pardon, what?”
“She packed and left before lunchtime. I had her things despatched this afternoon.”
“Why? What happened?”
“She visited me midmorning and asked if there was any way she and I would become a couple again.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her we would not and that my support to her as a sponsor and friend would be lifelong. Hannah cried, then decided to leave.”
“Jesus Christ, Victor. It’s all my fault.”
“That’s not true. Hannah specifically mentioned you and said she was unusually drawn to friendship, quoting your honesty. She left a note.”
“Where is it?”
“On your dressing table.”
I leaped out of bed, feeling sick and upset by the situation. A sealed envelope had my name on it, so I tore it open.
Dear Amy,
I know my loving relationship with Victor is over. It has been for some time, but I never wanted to look over the edge of a precipice until you gently took me there.
I’m thankful to you for being kind when no burden of my emotions were ever yours to carry, and I’m sorry if I pushed too hard for friendship.
I have made peace with Victor, who has been very generous and promises to continue supporting my cycling. We shall remain friends, something that should have happened long ago.
I hope everything turns out great for you, Victor, and your baby.
All my love, Hannah.
I sat upright in the bed while Victor shunted pillows behind for my comfort. I felt emotional, and tears welled in my eyes because nobody had ever pursued an innocent friendship so enthusiastically with me before.
“I feel I lost something.”
“If it’s any consolation, Hannah seemed happier than I’ve seen her in months.”
“Will she still train here?”
“No. I have provided a home with almost equal facilities, and her coach is moving in. She has a chef, housekeeper, and maids.”
“Can I see her?”
“She asked that I respect her privacy and not hand you details of her new address.”
“Oh fuck, Victor. I chased her away.”
“That’s not true. She said the less pressure on you over the coming year meant a happier pregnancy, and Hannah was adamant she wouldn’t become a friction for you.”
“Oh my, I feel like I was cruel.”
“Hannah is a gentle soul, only ever savage and single-minded for her pursuit of victory in the arena. She and I were friends first, then lovers, and now we are friends again.”
“Bu-.”
“It is a good outcome for everyone.”
I stared at Victor with tears rolling down my cheeks. I hadn’t expected this conclusion, but Hannah knew it was the best one for me. I rued an opportunity for friendship, rolling through an emotional tsunami in a tiny lifeboat that suddenly felt alone.
Victor spooned tightly into me, holding my midriff with two palms, almost like he was protecting the embryo inside that, right now, hopefully, would be negotiating life with his sperm.
For the first time since applying to be Victor’s surrogate, one thought permeated my soul, gripping every thought and emotion.
Can I really do this?
Next Chapter:
Hi Kate, Amy is still coming to grips with her new situation. Mother to be, lawyer to be and friend to how many and where? So many relationships can impact other relationships and then how could they impact her relationship with her "baby-daddy". For having been so organized, her life has become somewhat disheleved. So far she is doing a great job and is continuing to work out what the impact will be, she hopes. With all that is going on, you are taking us along with every detail. We'll done and adding to the excitement.
KATE could you please email me the answer.