My wife and I share a passion for politics, but I was surprised one night when she told me she wanted "An Obama baby."
I had a hunch about where she was going, so I tried to change the subject.
"I'm excited, too. Amy! I really think he's going to be our next president!"
We're both latte liberals excited about the possibility of our country electing Barack Obama, our first mulatto president.
Amy, though, had family planning on the brain.
She looked up from her laptop. We were at a coffee shop where we liked to surf the liberal blogs.
Amy was impatient with me. I had failed to give her what she wanted. Now I was pretending not to listen.
"I'm not talking about the presidential race, Darren. I want a baby by a black man. I want a light chocolate baby," she said, extending her tongue over her lips.
"I am so white our baby will have the complexion of the Chai Latte I'm drinking."
She was Minnesotan Scandinavian, a very pale blonde used to wearing woolly sweaters in the winter. When it snowed, she almost turned into a ghost. It was that hard to separate her from the winter mist.
Always resourceful, Amy thought had stumbled upon the ultimate solution to our little problem.
Amy had not gotten pregnant after we stopped using birth control two years ago. She had been hinting around at trying other methods of conception, but neither us like the idea of expensive and invasive treatments. As tree huggers, we preferred more organic methods.
I didn't really know if Amy was kidding about having an affair or not. "You're such a weirdo," I said, adding a nervous laugh.
"You'll see,'' she said mischievously.
Over the next couple of weeks, Amy really got serious about waking up early enough to go jogging before work. She stretched and sweated in a hot yoga class before coming home from work. She had a new vitality about her.
"Got to look good for my baby daddy," is what Amy always said after a workout. Her teasing always made me hard and sexually aggressive.
One morning after a bicycle trip to the farmers market, Amy was unpacking her canvas bags in the kitchen. She held up an overgrown zucchini. "This is what I imagine my baby daddy's cock to be like," she jested.
"So, so big. God how I am going to get it inside of me? Especially after years of trying to get myself off on your tiny radish? I think that's what I am going to call it from now on. The stumpy radish."
I was feeling so bad about underperforming sperm, now she was tweaking my pride and joy, too? Shit, I had an angry hard on, especially from looking at a sweaty Amy in her bicycle gear. Her ass looked so cute in the form fitting black shorts.
I pushed her over the kitchen island.
"Ooh," she said in startled joy. "Come and get me! Just to try to last for more than 15 seconds."
I pulled down her shorts. She leaned over the table and spread her legs to give me better access. Amy looked back at me.
"I'll give you a baby, I will get one on you before some other guy does," I promised.
"Yeah, right,'' Amy responded sarcastically. I slapped her ass to show her who's boss all the while, thinking 'Come on, sperm, do your thing. Knock this bitch up. One of you has got to be an Olympic swimmer."
Her pussy gripped me so tight I could not handle it. I launched almost immediately. My thrusting came to a sudden stop.
It's funny how a cum shot can change the mood. Amy was no longer the teasing temptress. She was all business like as she straightened up and cupped her hand over her vagina. She did not want to lose any sperm. Amy laid on the floor and lifted her legs up to expedite the flow to her womb.
"I don't mean to hurt your feelings," Amy apologized. "I just really want to have a kid. I know the teasing gets you really worked up. It must be a primal thing. It brings out your inner cave man."
I carried her upstairs for another round of baby making.
Her teasing worked wonders for our sex life. One Sunday afternoon, I "discovered" her in bed, wanking off to a magazine advertisement for men's underwear briefs featuring a black model with a cheese grater stomach. I dove on top of her, pinning her arms to the bed and thrusting hard.
I came home from work to find her posing in front of the of the bedroom mirror. At first, I thought she was naked before I realized she was wearing a black string bikini.
"God, I am going to get so much black cock with this string bikini," she said lustfully, thrusting her hips back. Her ass was bare except for a small black triangle at the top of her crack.
I threw her to the bed, pushing aside her crotch string to penetrate her.
After a month of hot sex, we had nothing to show for it, but at least I had prepared a response after she finished peeing on a pregnancy test stick and saw no blue line.
"What's this," Amy said when I handed her an envelope while she was still on the toilet.
""They're airline tickets to Jamaica," I said. "I picked a week when you'll be ovulating. I want you to have your Obama baby."
She rose from the toilet seat and hugged me. "You're the best hubby ever. You may not be my impregnator, but you'll always be the father of my children."
I offered not to go so as to avoid any awkwardness, but Amy insisted I be around for the conception of our baby. Besides, she enjoyed driving me mad. That was half the fun. I had to admit that I couldn't wait to see her play the slut.
Little things always made me hot in preparation for our trip. Amy, for instance, began taking prenatal vitamins to get ready for pregnancy. She was serious about cheating on me and that was driving me crazy with lust.
Our vacation could not come soon enough. I booked a week-long vacation at a beach side resort known for a swinger clientele and a hunky wait staff.
Amy really was a different woman in Jamaica. Always the responsible one at home, she left me to the details like unpacking the bags and hanging up the clothes while she ran to the beach. At the night club, Amy danced and flirted with other guys in front of me. I spent every night alone in the hotel room, jerking off to thoughts of her going down on some stranger. I could have pursued opportunities too but we agreed it wouldn't be right for me to play around while she was trying to have our baby.
On the second day, I was sitting by the pool reading a paperback thriller about a serial killer stalking the streets of South Florida when Amy approached with a black couple.
Amy's wide net-stitch bra cradled her breasts like they were melons. Her cute butt was visible through her gauzy wrap around and thong. She was holding the hand of bald black man with a rippled chest. The bulky veins on his arms were like knots tied around an anchor. His skimpy swimsuit was nothing more than a velvet sling for his cock. He wore a gold chain and wrap around shades.
On his other side, he held the hand of his wife who was dressed in a very conservative one piece bathing suit. It was a competitive swimmer style suit that I imagined her swimming laps in at the neighborhood Y. Her arms and legs were so tone. She had sexy biceps. Her hair was cropped so short it stood up.
Her tasteful bathing suit accentuated the sluttiness of my wife's string bikini. Amy gave them both a quick peck on the cheek before she introduced her friends.
"This is Anthony and Theodora. They're both lawyers from Macon, Georgia. They came here to conceive a baby too! Isn't that a coincidence?"
We laughed.
"You got quite a wife there," said Anthony as he extended his hand.
"I'm just grateful Theodora was willing to share Anthony," said Amy as gazed up at Anthony's sunglasses.
"Oh, I make sure he screws me first, but there's plenty of cum to go around, believe me," said Theodora as she squeezed her husband's balls.
"Plus, I like being the No. 1 wife and throwing this nice little white tramp the sloppy seconds! This repressed black woman feels like the liberated one for a change!"
Anthony roared as he slapped both girls on the ass. Amy blushed bright red as Theodora needled her a little more.
"Besides, my jaw gets tired of sucking on that thing, but she can't seem to get enough. Amy must have swallowed three loads last night. Dayum. Her mouth was like a glazed donut."
I grabbed a beach pillow to cover my growing erection.
"We're going down to the nude beach, you want to come?" Anthony said.
"Sure," I said, trying to act like my hard on was no big deal. No one seemed to be paying me much attention as we walked across the nude beach. After we laid out a bed sheet on the sand, I watched an elaborate strip tease unfold.
Both women rolled down his briefs from either side. Together they held the Speedo at his knees so he could step out of them. I instantly regretted taking off my trunks. His dick was a mean-looking snake. I swore I heard it hiss.
Both girls giggled as they squirted and rubbed sun block all over his body, but became reverent when they applied it to his cock.
"We got to be careful with our baby maker," Theodora said.
At that point, I was pretty much oblivious as I watched the girls fondle his balls.
Anthony playfully flexed his biceps and posed like a body builder as Amy was stepping out of her thong. Wow, she had shaved off her bush. I saw Anthony lick his lips in anticipation.
