Arthur sat at Cynthia's side gripping her hand tightly. Across from them sat Mable, Cynthia's mother and his own mother, Ruth. The two women regarded the nervous pair seriously. Ruth spoke first.
"I suppose you know why Mable and I invited you two over, don't you?"
"Because it's our anniversary?" Arthur offered, glancing shyly as his beautiful young wife.
"Well, yes, that is the occasion, darling, but not the real reason," Ruth smiled encouragingly. "We thought by now you two might have something you wanted to ... tell us." Both women leaned forward slightly. Mable was not smiling.
"Er, 'tell you,' mother?" Arthur asked.
"Of course, dear," she replied kindly. "You don't have to be shy with us. It's very normal for a young couple, especially this long after the honeymoon. We wanted to be the first to know."
"Know, uh ... what?" Arthur asked, glancing over at Cynthia who was biting her lip and clasping and unclasping her hands.
"She means have you knocked my daughter up yet, twerp!" Mable burst out in exasperation. "It was bad enough that you didn't give her a nice bulging tummy for the wedding ceremony, though that was partly her fault," the scowling woman admitted. "But now twelve MONTHS have gone by, boy. Any normal man would have had a little sex pot her nursing one baby and working in a second one for us by now!"
"Mother, please!" Cynthia interjected in defense of her cringing husband. "This is a very private matter between the two of us."
"Of course getting a baby fucked into you is private! I didn't ask to WATCH him putting the first bun put in that cute little belly, Cynthia, although that would be sexy," her mother leered. "I'm just interested in results. You're eighteen, young lady. This is your most fertile time of life. You should be popping out grandchildren for me once a year. Remember what happened to your older sister. She didn't start until she was almost twenty and now and is going almost two or more years between babies. At this rate, she'll barely reach a dozen and SHE has both her husband's brothers helping her.
"Excuse me, mother Dunn, but Cynthia is right. When and how many children we have is none of your business."
"Now Arthur, you can't really mean that. I'm just as eager to see dozens of grandchildren as Mable," Ruth interjected, "Although I might have expressed it a little more delicately," she said, looking over at her friend. "I naturally want you to keep Cynthia constantly pregnant for the next twenty years of so as much as Mable does."
"Yeah, what's wrong with you, anyway, shrimp? Are you shooting blanks?" Mable demanded. "I know she had the absurd idea of not having sex before the marriage, but what kind of boyfriend were you to take that shit? If all else failed, you should have gotten the silly filly drunk one night and slipped a baby in her. I swear, I can't figure out youngsters nowadays!"
"Arthur! Is that true?" Ruth asked. "You asked a girl to marry you without at least having fucked her stupid for a few months? Suppose you are inadequate? I made that mistake with your father, letting him marry me without trying him out first. I'd certainly hate to think that my son could do that to another woman!"
Arthur was stunned to see his soft-spoken mother so animated. Mable continued.
"Well, that's water over the dam, but what about now?" Mable demanded. "You've been fucking my daughter for a year. A little minx like her, I guess she wants it, what, three times a day, more on weekend, I guess? You fill her hot little cunt, say, twice each session...." Mable was lost in her mental calculation. "Load for an average man is three ounces." She cast a disparaging glance at her son-in-law. "Say, one-half ounce for YOU ... makes ...
... over eight gallons of spunk you've pumped into my little girl! That's enough to give her a swollen belly right there."
"Mother," Cynthia exclaimed. "You've got it all wrong. We don't 'do it' that often."
"What? The bastard fucks you fewer than three times a day? What kind of undersexed wimp did you marry, anyway, Cynthia?"
"Well, it's not all Arthur's fault. I don't think it is proper to, you know, just RUT it all the time like animals."
"Shit, girl. I knew I should never have let you hang out with that crazy church crowd. And you?"
Mable turned on Arthur with fire in her eyes "You put up with that kind of frigidity? What kind of man doesn't fuck a wife just because she says she doesn't want to? A real man would take her and paw her until the little bitch was crying for it. You ought to be fucking the shit out of my girl several times a day. After a few times, she'd have begged you for it. That's what Leroy did to me."
"Don't feel bad, Cynthia, dear," Ruth interjected, trying to be sympathetic to the distraught young woman. "I felt the same way before I met Jethro. But once you get a taste of hard nasty sex, you just can't get enough.
"Jethro?" Arthur asked.
Ruth looked a little pained. "He's the little brother of Mable's, er, friend, Leroy."
"Leroy?" Cynthia asked.
"Don't play games, Cynthia! You know I've had a big black stud screwing my brains out every night even before your father passed on."
"Since before you FUCKED him to death, you mean," the daughter replied bitterly. "You should have known not to make daddy have sex with you as soon as he got home from a triple bypass, especially a half-hour doggie fuck!"
"He died a happy man, Cynthia. The undertaker couldn't get the grin off his face. And you've never complained about the millions in insurance money he left us. Besides, I was only doing what I had to do. Lord, girl, your father had been in and out of the hospital for weeks! If I hadn't found Leroy working as an orderly in the intensive care unit, I don't know what I'd have done. He gave ME the intensive care I needed! Leroy," Mable sighed and smiled for the first time. "Now there's a man! I'll guarantee you, Leroy would have you knocked up higher than a kite by now."
"I'm not a shameless hussy like you, Mother, bearing a little black 'posthumous' child eight moths after Daddy died! How can you even think about me being unfaithful to my darling Arthur."
"Don't tell me you DON'T!"
"Of course I don't!" Cynthia protested.
"Then what ARE you thinking about when you have this buried in your twat, you horny little bitch?" her mother asked triumphantly, brandishing out a huge black dildo.
"Where did you find ... er, what do you mean, Mother?"
"I took it from the second drawer of your night stand, the same drawer you've kept your toys since you were 11, Cynthia. That was the reason I was never too worried about you running around with those religious nuts, promising to remain a virgin and all that nonsense. I knew that every night you were sneaking back into your room fucking yourself silly with Junior here. I could hear you writhing in ecstasy and moaning 'Fuck me, you big black bastard, fuck me pregnant.'"
"Cynthia!" Albert exclaimed in shock. "You were ... touching yourself, even when we were dating?"
"Of course she was, dear," Ruth put in. "All women have to masturbate. Don't think badly of her, or of yourself. Very few men can give women all the hard-pounding sex we require. Even if you did her several times a day, a healthy young woman like Cynthia would still need lots of time with sex toys to keep her mental equilibrium. Without six or seven good gut-wrenching orgasms a day, we girls become bitchy and hysterical. I certainly was, even though I was spending several hours a day coming with my vibrator. I was nearly a wreck, until Mable introduced me to Jethro, that is." Ruth smiled gratefully at her friend.
"Hell, no, I don't blame her," Mable added. "Especially since this wimp isn't exercising his marital rights. I just blame her for settling for an artificial fuck stick that can no more put a baby in that belly than her useless husband. Lemme see your equipment, boy!"
"What are you talking about, Mother Dunn"
"Your baby-making tool, dammit! Your dick, your cock, your prick, your Johnson, you twerp!"
"She means we want to examine your penis, darling," Ruth tried to explain.
"Mother! You expect me to expose my private parts in front of all three of you? Why I insist on lights out to spare even Cynthia the trauma of having to look at a man's ... you know.
"What crap!" Mable exploded. "A real man shows off is dong every time he gets a chance, 'cause he knows seeing a big one turns a woman into a mush of rutting woman-flesh. So, fish it out and lets see it, buster."
"Do as she says, dear," Ruth said, reaching over to unbutton Arthur's pants.
"My god! Jockey shorts and I don't see no bulge," Mable exclaimed as Arthur's pants dropped around his ankles.
"Go ahead. Pull down your shorts, honey" Ruth said. Mortified, Arthur complied.
Mable gasped. "I don't believe it! It's even smaller than my late husband's. How do you expect to get a girl pregnant with that thing? Why that's not a cock, it's a weenie!"
Mable glared at Arthur, daring him to answer. Cynthia was too embarrassed to say anything. Mable regarded Ruth with more affection. "Don't mean no harm, Ruth, Honey, but you've got to admit, we've given him a fair chance. I think it's time we follow through on what we agreed with Cynthia before the wedding."
"Cynthia? Mother Dunn? What are you talking about?" Arthur asked nervously pulling his pants back on.
