How Meghan Mccain Got Pregnant

Author's note: This is a work of pure fiction. While we all have our differences with the celebrities who appear here, the deserve our respect. This fantasy is one I've had for a long time, and is my way of honoring two of the most beautiful women to host what the New York Times called "the most important political TV show in America."

This chapter does not feature a man having sex. I've learned that lesbian sex angers some people on this site. As the title implies, later chapters will feature a man because Meghan McCain will get pregnant. So if lesbian sex angers you, watch for Chapter 2.

I left The View in 2020 as rumors swirled that I had been feuding with my longtime friend Meghan McCain. Yes, I'm Abby Huntsman. As we've said publicly, those rumors were from people taking a normal argument between friends and blowing everything out of proportion. Nor did that fight lead to me quitting The View. In fact, our makeup led to Meghan getting pregnant - and quite an awakening for me.

Everything started the morning after Meghan and I had said our sorries. She came into my dressing room before the show and kicked out my stylist. She was ready, her lips perfectly painted a soft shade of red, her tight dress barely able to contain her breasts. I'd have to finish my makeup myself, never good for TV, I thought, as I admired the soft curl that Meghan had in her hair that morning. With the door closed she said "We need to do a girls weekend."

"Why, what's up?" I asked.

"I just think it'll be nice. Seeing each other at work every day has changed our friendship too much. We need to bond more so we don't fight again."

"Don't you want to spend that time with Ben?" We lived in New York but Meghan's husband lived in DC, so she flew down there every weekend.

"Fuck him," Meghan said. "I have to argue on national TV five days a week, then on the weekend that cuck tries to make me his supplicant wife while acting manly. I'm getting away with you and from him."

I paused for a moment. Why would she call him a cuck? We weren't that kind of Republican. "Are things OK with you guys?" I asked.

Meghan put some calm into her voice. "Nothing new. Just want to get away together. Just a bonus that I won't have to deal with his small dick for a weekend."

That insult wasn't new. Meghan had complained before that her husband was small, rarely made her orgasm, and couldn't keep up with her even when he pretended to be so virile. "Alright, sounds fun," I said. "What are we going to do?"

"Well I heard about this town upstate. Show's on soon, I'll text you the details."

We got up to the cabin Meghan had booked late that Friday evening. I was exhausted from a week of work and a three hour drive up to the Catskills, but Meghan insisted that we go out to dinner, claiming we couldn't get the food or the experience if we called in. She seemed unusually full of energy. She spoke with the chatter of a typewriter while I just tried to be present. Her eyes darted around the greasy spoon like a teenager trying to soak in the sights of her first time in a bar. A few times, I was sure that I saw her make eyes at a handsome younger guy who was making his way around the diner. I finally called her on the eye-flirting and she said "Well I checked out a few people but I'm not flirting with anyone." Funny, I thought, I would have said that I was married.

At some point shortly before we finished, she got up to go to the bathroom. "I'll come with," I said as I started to stand.

She put a hand out. "No, I'm, uh, I'm not feeling good. I kind of want to be alone in there."

I sat back down but internally did not accept her answer. There was no way she wasn't feeling well. I knew I was visibly exhausted, she was practically bouncing out of her seat. But she did seem to take a while in there. People can be strange, even best friends.

When we got back to the cabin, I noticed that there was only one bed and the couch was quite small. After I had brushed my teeth and removed my makeup, I asked Meghan what we were going to do. "Come on," she said, "haven't you ever done a girl's weekend right?" I just looked at her. "We'll share, it'll be fun," she concluded, stepping into the bathroom to change.

Maybe because of my Mormon upbringing, I was still a little uncomfortable sharing a bed, especially given what I usually wore to bed. Nonetheless, I decided to proceed as normal. I dutifully stripped completely naked, then pulled on my tiny forest green silk shorts and the matching silk top. The cabin was warm enough that my nipples wouldn't poke out.

As I sat on the edge of the bed to shut down my phone, Meghan came back in from the bathroom. I looked up to see her in the most gorgeous nightgown I could imagine. The long black skirt flowed around her, hiding her legs but but giving glimpses through the lace patterns. The bodice perfectly cupped her massive chest and highlighted the cleavage Meghan so often kept hidden. Her makeup was still on, but the red lipstick had been replaced by a natural colored gloss. I felt dumbstruck but somehow, as if from another body, found myself saying "That nightgown looks amazing on you."

"Thank you," she responded as she floated around the bed to slip under the covers. "Ben gets a little too enthusiastic if I dress like this, and in public, well, you know if I look halfway sexy in public the shaming cascades. But I bet Jeff likes those long legs in those short shorts," she smiled at me as I got under the covers and snapped off my light. She left hers on.

"He does," I said, becoming myself again. "But mostly it's just so comfortable."

Meghan and I were on our sides facing each other. She gazed into my eyes and I admired the soft blue of hers. "Your nipples seemed straining to get out though," she said with a sultry smile.

I felt my face flush. "Sorry, I thought it was warm enough."

"You know I don't mind. I'm just so relieved to have you back and have this weekend."

We talked for what was probably hours about the stress of the show, her trying to get pregnant while tired of sex with her husband, and how glad we were to have ended our fight. The movement of Meghan's lips lulled me into her aura, merging us to what felt closer than ever. We had always admired the other's lips, she wishing to have my "natural lip injections" and I wishing to have that ideal shape that couldn't have been painted better. Our conversation turned when Meghan said "Honestly, I miss my life in L.A."

"Why's that?"

"The sex," she said without hesitation. I was floored; my Mormon upbringing was telling me to run.

"I mean," I think I was stuttering, "there must be something deeper."

She laughed. "Maybe, but I don't think you understand how big a part of my life it was. I found someone new three, four times a week. Most of them were pretty darn good, but if one wasn't, I had about ten guys in my phone to call and make it better."

"On the same night?"

"Yeah. Once you've fucked two guys in one night, it's hard to stop."

She had had sex with more men in one night than I had in my life. I knew she used to party, but I had no idea the extent. "You're breathing heavy," she said softly to me.

I was. My body was confused. My head was trying to judge her, but my kitty was betraying my arousal. The idea of Meghan taking two men was fiercely erotic, the baser parts of my mind were even running to myself taking two men in one night. "It's just hard for me to imagine," came my breathy reply.

Meghan's voice lowered. "Do you like imagining it?"

"Yes," I whispered.

Meghan rose and put a hand on my shoulder to lay me on my back. "Sometimes I would take women home."

I felt the mass of her breasts press into me. I looked into the blue of her eyes, which now seemed to pierce me into submission. Her lips pressed into mine and she took me into her possession. I wrapped my arms around her to try to make myself a part of her. I ran my foot along her leg where the nightgown had risen. Her tongue against mine matched the movements of my foot on her leg until she broke from my lips to kiss my neck, turning my heavy breathing into soft whimpers. Her thumb grazed across my nipple and I began to moan. She kissed down my chest and down my top to suck my tit into her mouth. I cried out her name and arched my back. I felt so wet that any touch to my clit would have sent me to a blinding orgasm.

I pulled Meghan off my breast and whispered "I need to see yours."

I had never thought myself sexually attracted to a woman, but somehow I felt incomplete if I couldn't see Meghan's bare chest. She sat up and pulled down the straps of her gown. "Tell me you want to suck my titties," she directed.

"I want to suck you tits," I said. I had never thought of sucking a woman's nipples, but as the words came out of my mouth, I knew that I had always wanted to suck Meghan's tits.

She leaned forward and I grabbed one breast with both hands and hungrily sucked the nipple into my mouth. "Easy," she warned me. "It's not a cock, take it slow but a little teeth is OK."

I slowed down and moved a hand to her other breast. I was a complete novice, but I tried to mimic what Meghan had done to me. I felt the nipple in my mouth harden, then as Meghan let out a long, loud moan felt the one in my hand harden as well. She continued to moan, sustained, full notes as beautiful as a siren filling the cabin and perhaps the land around. Then she forcefully pushed me down and announced "I need to you eat my pussy."

I could only nod in obedience. There was no other person than her, I had no allegiance but to her desires. She pulled of the rest of her nightgown and told me "Strip." I hurriedly complied.

As I flung my silk shorts across the room, Meghan moved over my head and spread her legs across my face. She lowered herself ever so slowly, causing such an ache in my loins that I had to begin masturbating. I moaned as much at the touch on my clit as at the anticipation of tasting Meghan's honey pot. An eternity passed and my lips met with her labia. She moved my hand and brought her own mouth to my sex. I released a satisfied scream into her clitoris and continued to hungrily lap at my first pussy. My body was jolting at Meghan's electric touch, what little strength I controlled went into eating her as expertly as she ate me. I was in a continuous state of orgasm, but nothing stopped Meghan's assault on my womanhood until she lifted her head and screamed "Yes Abby, right there, Abby keep going, don't stop, oh my God, Abby, ABBY!" and she collapsed on top of me with a conclusive scream.

Meghan rolled off and climbed up beside me. I nuzzled into her chest. Though much taller than her, I needed to be held. But I began to come to my senses and whispered to her "I can't believe we did that."

"I'm glad we did."

"I don't feel as bad as I should about cheating."

"I've needed you for so long, Abby. I think you felt the same way."

"So you planned this?"

"No, but I hoped for it. And prepared."

"Prepared?"

Meghan got up and took a bag out of her suitcase. She dumped the contents beside me. An array of sex toys poured out. I picked up a vibrator, just a bit larger than my husband. "This might be fun," I said, both in hope for more and in fear of something too large.

Meghan picked up a large strap-on. "I was thinking something more like this."