Liz

My name is Elizabeth Martin, but my friends call me Liz. My 6-month-old baby is sleeping peacefully in the nursery room. I've been married to my husband, Darrell, for 14 years, but the baby isn't his.

I should explain, but, oh, where to start? I've known Darrell since high school. We ran in the same circle of friends, and eventually we started going out. We weren't the popular kids or jocks or nerds. I don't think we were invisible, but we were average. Myself, I'm not tall or short, not skinny or fat. I'm about 5'4". Back then I weighed around 125. I've gained a good 15 pounds in the years since. I always kept my light brown hair about shoulder length, and usually tied up in a ponytail. Darrell was about 5'9" and 165 pounds.

I didn't play any sports or do band or anything like that. Neither did Darrell. Both of us came from working class families. Extracurricular activities were a luxury we couldn't afford. By the time we started dating in senior year, both of us were 18 and had jobs to pay for cars and gas. Working retail and fast food provided an early intro to the world of assholes that exist in the world, but it bought us a little bit of freedom on the nights we were lucky to be off.

I remember the first time we made love during senior year. Neither of us really knew what we were doing. We fumbled around in the back of his car in an empty dimly lit empty parking lot. Looking back, we were both young and stupid. I fell in love, even if the first time was more like a misfire and nothing like the passionate lust fueled scenes in books or movies.

Still, practice makes perfect, they say. The next thing you know, we were practicing every chance we got. It's funny when you're still living at home, you end up having to steal moments for making love. It made for much more daring adventures. Any time his parents were out, I'd rush over to his house (or vice versa), although I remember one time they came home MUCH earlier than expected, and we scrambled to get dressed before getting caught. At the time I thought we were lucky to get away with it. Looking back now, our parents knew what we were up to.

We made love in the school once after-hours when no one except the janitor and security guard were in the building. I had my dress hiked up and was laid out on our teacher's desk. I tried to muffle my screams, but the thrill of sex in one of our classrooms turned me on so much, my screams echoed down the corridor. The door was locked, and I remember us scrambling to get dressed as heavy footsteps clambered down the hall. We squeezed out the window to the safety of the dark night as we heard keys fumble in the lock to break up the ruckus.

High school graduation came, and we had to figure out what to do with our lives. Darrell went into trade school to get certified to work on HVAC, while I went to community college to get an associate's degree.

Pretty soon, we were done with our school and cast off into the real world. After Darrell and I both got real jobs, we saved up enough money to move into our own place. It's funny to think back now how exciting it was to have a place of our own. To finally be out from under our parents' rule, to finally have the freedom to live our own lives. I could barely cook, and we were paycheck to paycheck, but we were happy.

Having our own place also solved our biggest issue, which was having someplace to have sex whenever we wanted. We no longer had to sneak around when our parents were out of the house or steal away to remote or abandoned locations.

After high school, we kept up with our close circle of friends, although there was one couple we became closer with, Kelvin and Kendra. Kelvin pursued his HVAC certification like Darrell did, and they were both big Steelers fans, so they always spent Sundays together cheering on the black and gold. Kendra and I grew up on the same street and had been friends since elementary school.

Our circle of friends went through the usual relationship cycles. Some of them took the leap into marriage, while others split apart. Those that split apart, they seemed to drift away. They either constantly felt like a third wheel, or else they fell into relationships outside our circle, and they rarely made their way back in.

Darrell and I got engaged when we were 22 and got married at 23. I don't know that it changed much, although it was strange to change my name to Liz Martin after I had been Liz Rogers my whole life.

It's funny how relationships and friendships evolve over time. Folks just reach different points in their lives at different times, and suddenly, you don't have as much in common with someone else as before. At first, it was either you're in a committed relationship, or you weren't. Then it became either you're married, or you weren't. Then it became either you had kids, or you didn't.

I guess that's where Darrell and I fell out of the circle ourselves. I've wondered if at some point maybe there's no one left in the circle. Anyway, Kelvin and Kendra fell out of the circle at that point, too, so maybe it wasn't us falling out of the circle so much as it was forming our own. Kendra swore to never have kids, while Darrell and I wanted to enjoy a few more years of freedom before taking the plunge into parenthood.

So, we enjoyed those years. We could go out to clubs and bars whenever we wanted to unwind. We bought new cars. We took vacations. And we had lots of sex. One of the things I love most about Darrell is he makes me feel sexy. I know I'm not a supermodel. I get reminded of that every time I go out shopping, and I see all the other women that are everything I'm not. Maybe it's a prettier face, longer legs, slimmer belly, bigger breasts, or more exotic features.

But when Darrell makes love to me, he makes me feel like I'm the sexiest woman. It's like he's always wearing beer goggles when he looks at me. But it's a turn-on to be desired like that, and, in turn, it made me happy to reciprocate. Darrell would go down on me, and I'd go down on him. Or we'd engage in a 69 race to see who could make the other cum first. Sex was a daily activity. I used to joke around that I'd make sure to milk him dry so he wouldn't have anything left and couldn't cheat on me.

But even good sex can become routine, so we learned how to mix it up. There was a secluded spot out near Deep Valley Lake we frequented. Down off the beaten path, we had a spot secluded from the hikers and the fishermen.

Other times, we'd go out, and I'd wear a remote-controlled vibrator. Darrell would activate the vibrator at the most inopportune times. We might be having dinner at a restaurant. I remember looking across the table and sheepishly smiling while the vibrator throbbed inside my pussy. Or we'd be shopping in a store, and the buzzing would audibly emanate from my crotch, as other shoppers would question the strange noise. If the feelings became too intense, I'd stop and kneel down, pretending to get something from a bottom shelf, but, in reality, my legs were like jelly and I needed time to collect myself. Darrell loved to tease me and watch me have orgasms while out in public, unbeknownst to those around.

In those years, while Darrell and Kelvin would watch football games, Kendra and I would go out for shopping and restaurants. Kendra and I became closer, and we shared all the details about our lives. She had an active and healthy sex life, also. In some ways, I think we almost competed to see who could have more wild adventures. At first, it was just how often we had sex the previous week, but then it turned to more exhibitionist and extreme dares.

As a result, both of us frequently went out without bras or panties. If nothing else, it was a good way to get rid of panty lines on tight pants or dresses. At first, I was self-conscious of my nipples protruding through my top, but I guess I got used to it, although, I definitely noticed it garnered attention from a lot of men. Kendra had much larger breasts than I did (D cups vs my B cups), and her breasts swayed a lot under her top when she went braless, which attracted its share of curious onlookers, as well.

I remember one time I even let my husband go ass to mouth on me as a dare. Let's just say, that was the only time I ever let him do that. It turns out I had my limits, but generally speaking, I was adventurous.

I know that Kendra and Kelvin eventually became swingers. At first it was threesomes... sometimes it was a guy, sometimes it was a girl. Then they got into full couple swaps, based on what Kendra told me.

That was a step too far for me. Relationships are complicated enough. Introducing another person into that level of intimacy can quickly descend into trouble, and someone is bound to feel left out. Kendra and Kelvin tried to lure us into group sex with them, and I'll admit it was tempting in a lot of ways. Then again, the pros didn't outweigh the cons in my head, so we never gave in to that temptation.

After a few years, Darrell and I were settled in our careers and bought a small house out in the suburbs. Nothing fancy, but it was in a decent neighborhood, and we were ready to start a family. Well, I knew we were good at that. So, I quit the pill, and we tried and tried. We were having sex almost daily, although we always enjoyed a variety of sexual experiences to mix it up.

We'd go through phases. For a few days, we might take turns going down on each other. Then we'd do a lot of doggy style for a few days. Then mix in some anal.

Oftentimes I'd let him dominate me. I love seeing his body hulking over me as I lie naked on my back, legs spread as his erect cock hung menacingly, threatening to enter me. And then he would, and I'd wrap my legs around him as he thrust into me. I'd tell him to treat me like a sex doll. I enjoy surrendering control and letting him have his way with me. I enjoy being his private slut. I'll sometimes ask him to make me his bitch. He knows that means I want to be bent over and take it in the backdoor. Not surprisingly, he's always willing to oblige.

But, as in anything else in life, there are limits. And Darrell understands that. After letting him take the lead for some time, I'll feel like I need to reclaim some control in our relationship, so then I'll take on a more dominant role myself. If I submit to him all the time, I'll end up questioning if I'm sacrificing my own self respect after a while, but if I just reassert myself a little, I feel better. They say everyone has a sub and dom type of personality; it's just a question of the balance between the two. For me, I'm probably 75% sub, 25% dom.

There are three main things I'll do to Darrell to assert myself. One is to make him eat me out. That one is dangerous because I usually end up so turned on that he'll slip his cock inside after my defenses are worn down, although, to be honest, I really don't mind.

Alternately, I'll sit on his face. I find it amusing because it seems rude to just shove my pussy in his face like that while he's lying down face up, but he seems to enjoy it, too, And when I've got him pinned down like that, he can't sneak his cock into me. The more I get turned on, the harder I grind my pussy into his face, and the more he's pinned down.

Lastly, we have toys we play with. Most are dildoes and vibrators that either I or Darrell will use on me. But I also have a strap on, and I'll peg him. I'll make Darrell my bitch, the same way he makes me his bitch. Having him bent over and completely at my mercy is empowering. I don't get an orgasm out of it, per se, but the sight of my strong husband bent over and taking it up the ass in front of me is a power aphrodisiac.

I don't do ass to mouth myself, but I'll make him lick the strap on after I pull it out of him. Having him on his knees serving me tells me that he's mine, and I swear it helps keep our relationship strong. It sounds silly, but it's reassuring to have him submit himself to me on occasion. By him ceding control and returning the favor, that allows me to enjoy the rest of the time when I'm submissive to him since it quells any doubt if our relationship is emotionally abusive. I am his, and he is mine.

We had a lot of fun trying to make a baby. I stopped taking contraceptive pills, and we just continued on with our active sex life. We were not in a rush, so we just figured, the baby would come in due course. The first few years when I didn't become pregnant, it didn't trigger any concern. I know that some couples take a long time to become pregnant. But by the time we both turned 30, we started to question if there were some other issues in play.

We eventually both were medically examined. The tests indicated I was perfectly fertile and capable of carrying a baby, but Darrell, had such a low count, it was exceedingly unlikely we would ever produce a child. We were both devastated. I love my husband, and I wanted to carry his child. I wanted to be a mother to a new life brought into the world.

We had gone through so much of life together. From high school to the real world, then marriage and buying a house. Raising a baby was just the next logical step in the life progression. Darrell felt depressed for a long time, feeling like he let me down somehow. I can't deny my own disappointment, but life comes with challenges. Without the lows, how else can you appreciate the highs?

Still, I love my husband, and this didn't change anything. In sickness and in health, I made my vow. But Darrell was visibly saddened for over a year. He somehow felt like less of a man, even though I tried to reassure him that was not the case. Our sex life even suffered for a bit. Whereas before we made love, it's like the passion dissipated, and sex felt rote and mechanical.

Eventually, Darrell started to come around though. The only way to face a problem is headfirst, and moping around wasn't doing anything to solve our situation. I was glad to have my Darrell back, and the passion in our marriage also reignited.

He was grateful I stood by him, and somehow our love became stronger for it. Eventually, we consulted with some fertility clinics on options. The price tags associated with their proposed treatments were enough to pay for a new car. The problem was both of us had fairly new cars still being paid for, and when their office invited us to talk with their finance department, it just turned us off. Between our home, cars, and all the other bills, that just didn't seem like a viable option. Let alone, the thought of paying so much for something that naturally should come for free didn't sit well with us. So, we declined.

But where did that leave us? We looked into the foster care system and adoption. The foster care system was filled with older kids from bad situations, and, as first-time parents, I don't know we were equipped to handle that. Both of us wanted a baby, so, at first, adoption seemed like a good fit, but when we found out the involved costs, it was almost as much as going through the fertility clinics.

It was my turn to become depressed at this point. At some point, having a child of our own became an obsession for me. After Darrell recovered from his depression, and we started to explore other options, all I wanted was for us to have a child of our own to raise. I wanted to have that for Darrell any way possible, so after going through all the options and arriving at dead ends, it was like my own dreams were crushed.

Whereas before, I nursed Darrell through his depression, now it was his turn to support me through mine. I stared ahead at a life without kids, imagining us in our old age, and no one there. Darrell and I were both only children. What if there was no one to look after or check in with us in our old age. It portended more of a rusted as opposed to golden years, leaving me in desolation.

Darrell whisked us away on a getaway to Vegas to stir me from my doldrums. I'll admit I needed the chance to hit reset on everything. Darrell spent the long weekend doting on me. Originally, we planned on spending a lot of time at the tables and checking out shows, but we spent most of our time reconnecting in our hotel room.

I was 33 by that point, about to turn 34, and starting to feel old. Without kids, what was left in life but growing old and dying? But Darrell reminded me of all I did have and had taken for granted.

Most of all, I had a husband who adored me. All our old friends from high school had kind of splintered off in different directions. At first it was the married friends vs single friends. Then some of the married friends had kids. Some of the single friends had kids. Then some of the married friends got divorced and became single again.

Even Kendra and Kelvin weren't immune from this wheel of fortune. They recently split, which complicated our relationship with them since we couldn't all go out together like before. They cited irreconcilable differences, which is usually just another name for growing apart. Immediately after they separated, Kendra took up with another man from their swinging circle, and Kelvin was left alone. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

But Darrell and I still had each other. And, in that moment, we had Vegas. It's funny, when you're younger, lovemaking is all lust and a naughty, excitable thrill. After over a decade a marriage, our lovemaking became familiar but self-assured. We grew closer than ever before with all our shared experiences and emotions through the years. Our love was reinvigorated, and we were no less adventurous than before. I let him use me like a rag doll, secure in the secrets we shared. I belonged to him body and soul. And he belonged to me.

It seemed that both of our missions were to make the other person cum, and that was a win-win scenario. Any fantasy he had, I let him do to me. We turned off the lights in our room, then opened the blinds while Darrel fucked me in the ass in front of the balcony glass doors with the Vegas lights illuminating the whole Strip. I felt every inch of him sliding in and out of me as people walked on the sidewalk far below.

By the end of our long weekend, I think I had pumped Darrell dry. The better to keep him from cheating on me, I told him. The last time I sucked him off, there was only a few drops of cum left to squirt into my mouth and swallow.

On our last night, Darrell sprung a surprise proposal, though.

"Liz, we both want a baby, and, I've been thinking, maybe there's another way."

"What other way? We've looked into all the options. We've talked about this every which way," I said.

"Just listen to me. The problem is me. We know that. There's nothing wrong with you."

"So, what are you saying?"

"That you can have a baby?"

"But artificial insemination costs too much, and it's not even guaranteed."

"'I'm not talking about artificial insemination. I'm talking about real insemination. "

"What are you saying?"

"What if we got someone? I don't know, maybe Kelvin."

I was floored. Moments earlier I had never felt closer to Darrell, and now he almost felt foreign to me.

"Look, I'm not trying to make you do anything," he continued, "but I've been thinking about this recently, and maybe... I mean, this could be our best bet. You don't need to decide now, but just think it over."

I went to bed that night confused, my mind churning with thoughts the whole night. How could Darrell propose such a thing? I couldn't seriously entertain the proposal, could I? Was this actually our best bet to have a baby?

On the flight home, we were mostly silent. I remember leaning my head into his chest while he slept on the plane. Kelvin had just become divorced, mostly due to he and Kendra letting other people into their relationship. Wouldn't this risk the same fate for Darrell and myself? Even if I did want to do it, how would Kelvin look at me afterward? How would it affect Darrell's friendship with Kelvin? How would this affect my friendship with Kendra? None of the answers seemed obvious.