Friends With Benefits 15

I wasn't a regular at the club where my insurance company bought me a membership. In fact I'd only been there twice before in nearly a year. I only joined because it was free and because they had a lap pool and hot tub that I could use. I have been classified as disabled for a few years.

That's bad enough, and I'd had spinal surgery already. The surgeon was good and made most of the pain disappear.

My years of inactivity, however, had taken their toll on my body. I'd put on some fat - mostly around my middle - and my muscle tone was slipping. So I took advantage of the 24 hour club membership and began trying to get back into some sort of acceptable shape for a fifty-nine year old man. I'd do some time on a treadmill or something like one before going into the pool, followed by a nice relaxing session in the hot tub.

I'd been on the treadmill for five minutes or so and was just about to switch to my trunks and begin my cool down in the pool. Then I got a surprise. "Hey mister, can you give me a hand?

The voice was soft and I knew I was alone in the club with the pregnant woman. I always get up early, around 4:30 or 5:00, so I, in turn, try to go in early. I can't stand the 'health club drones' that, in my opinion, were just posing or cruising, despite their good physical shape. I knew that once in a while there might be one or two others there, but I so far had had the club to myself.

"What do you need?" I asked, clicking off the treadmill and approaching the alcove where the weight equipment was kept.

"Shit, I just need a spotter," she said, sitting on a weight bench. I didn't say anything about what I thought of a pregnant woman lifting weights. I just moved across the floor to where she lay. She was younger than my own daughters. But she was damned cute and in need of help. How could I say no? She said her name was Melody.

"So when are you due?" I asked her as I settled down astride her bench.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'm still months away from my delivery date." She settled down, her head coming to rest between my thighs. Her bright blue eyes showed amusement as she grasped the bar above her head.

She was in decent shape (something she had over me) and she really didn't seem to need a spotter. But I dutifully sat as she worked through her reps with the bar and then sat up.

"I'm gonna jump into the pool," I told her.

"You're in great shape."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll see you there." I gave her a hand as she stood from the bench. I caught a slight whiff of perspiration and turned away before I embarrassed myself.

The scent of a woman is a complex thing (as is, I'm told, the scent of a male -- pheromones, I guess). It isn't just the scent of her crotch when she's excited. But the scent of a woman who has been exercising is almost as intoxicating as that to me. I'm not talking about the dirty sweat smell of a girl who hasn't showered for a while; just the aroma of clean exertion. Melody was cleanly sweating at the club that day.

I went to the locker room, showered and came out to the pool. A few minutes later she joined me. She wore a striped bikini, above the bottoms her belly stuck out quite a bit, but not obscenely. I thought she looked damn good with her distended belly button turned inside out. After she stepped down to the warm water she sighed and closed her eyes.

"I'm supposed to deliver in August," she said. "But I'm fucking tired of it already." Her words sort of shocked me -- not because I'd never heard a woman use them, but because we had only just met.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. My wife was the same way when she was carrying my daughters."

"Oh...you're married?" she asked.

"Not any more. My daughters are nearly your age these days. One of them is about to graduate with a degree in psychology." I'd divorced the mother of the girls when they were too young to know about their mother's infidelity. Unfortunately, I couldn't prove anything so I was only able to get mutual custody. After I explained all this to her, Melody returned the favor by telling me her story.

She was single. Her pregnancy had been the result of a drunk and stoned party her girlfriend had taken her to. The father, she confessed sheepishly, was one of the two guys she'd fucked that night. Before I asked, she said (reading my mind), "It was a foursome (my first and only) that I hadn't intended to participate in, but I was just too trashed to resist. I was so trashed that I didn't realize at first that the guys had changed partners. If they'd been closer in...size, I probably still wouldn't have known."

I have to tell you that her story had gotten my own juices cooking. Just the fact that she was sharing it with me -- really a total stranger -- also added to the kink of it. My dick was rock hard under the water.

She swam to the other end of the pool and I side-stroked my way across it and returned. We arrived back where we started about the same time. That shows about the way our shape compared. As I said, I'd been disabled for several years and hadn't been exercising at all. It was only when the scale topped 200 pounds that I decided to do something about it.

She tipped her head back and let the water wash her brown locks off her forehead as she came up. We were in the shallow end and she stood up. I was leaning my head against the round edge of the concrete, just letting my arms and legs drift. I opened my eyes when she bumped against my side. I found myself gazing up at the underside of her big belly, coincidentally only inches from her crotch. Her bikini bottoms had pulled up enough to give her a pronounced 'camel toe'.

She was smiling. "So, can I buy you breakfast, or do you think I'm too trashy to be seen with?" she asked. I assured her that her story made no difference to me. I confessed that I'd made some stupid decisions when assisted by some artificial chemical stimulus. Thirty years ago I used to get high, but when the kids came along I curtailed that activity. I couldn't help raise them from prison. These days I stuck to beer mostly, but I sometimes missed the soft, relaxing feeling of a good joint or pipe.

"Well, I was planning on sitting in the hot tub a while, but if you're ready to go, I'd love it," I told her.

"OH! Well that sounds good," she said. "We can do that first."

"I didn't think it was good for pregnant ladies to sit in the hot tub," I said.

"Oh, my doctor said it isn't bad as long as I don't spend all day in there," she laughed. "What are you...my dad?"

"Not hardly," I responded. I watched her ass as she climbed out of the pool and tugged at my trunks to conceal my thickening dick. I followed behind as she crossed the distance between the pool and the tub.

I lowered my bulk into the bubbles and heat of the hot tub. It felt great. It always felt great, but that day it felt so much better because of the company. My mind was already sweeping through fantasies of myself with this young woman, in spite of her pregnancy and even though we had only just met. We had, so far, begun to form a friendship, but my mind had already started to cruise into some sort of sexy scene. So shoot me, I'm a man.

I assumed my usual pose, my head leaning back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and now feeling the new sensation of the bubbles tickling me all over. Melody took a spot about three feet away and a quarter of the way around the tub's circumference.

A minute later I felt a touch on my leg. Opening my eyes I saw her grinning at me. She pushed her foot higher on my leg and asked me to massage her calf. My hands went to the limb and I began to knead the tight muscles in the hot water. I turned a bit to the left and centered her foot on my left hip to support her leg.

It was a dream to run my hands up and down from knee to ankle as I massaged her. After a while she switched legs and I treated the other leg with the same tender attention. This was her left leg. Her foot rested on my right hip as I rubbed. Sitting across from each other made a good situation for conversation. We talked as I rubbed her. A lot of barriers were crossed as we sat there.

An eternity later, I felt her weight shift. The foot on my hip slid past and she closed the distance between us. Then she was sitting on my lap, her legs splayed to each side and her crotch pressed against my belly.

"I know we just met, Ben," she said," but I think you're an honest man. How about that breakfast?"

I wrapped my hands around her slender back, pulling her against my thickening dick, knowing she could feel it, but not yet ready to let her have it.

"I'd be delighted," I replied. She giggled, seeming to pick up on the anticipation game I was playing. She scooted off me.

"I'll see you on the other side of the showers," she said, and scrambled out of the tub. We were still alone in the club and I considered asking her to shower with me, but it was almost 6:00 and people would start drifting in soon.

We went to a nearby cafe and ordered breakfast. The day was sunny, as usual in Vegas, and we had a great time. It was fun for me, at least, relating some things about my life -- things she could never remember because she was too young. It gave me a kind of 'sneaky' feeling because she was young as my daughters, but she was also broadcasting some sexual signals too.

After we ate she hugged me outside the cafe. "I'm so glad we met, Ben," she said. "I usually go to the club a few times a week. Maybe we can meet there again?"

"Sure," I replied. "You're really the first friend I've made at the club or even here in town." I watched her drive off and spent the trip home thinking about her.

I waited another day before going back. She wasn't there. I went the next day and swam a few laps, soaked a while in the hot tub, but she still didn't show up. I castigated myself for feeling the way I did about a woman so young -- I might as well have been lusting after my daughter (except she WASN'T my daughter!). And, I reminded myself, she was very attractive. Neither of us was married and it wasn't my pressure that had brought her into my orbit. She was the one who called out to me.

The next morning I rose, drank my coffee and considered going to the club. Then I thought better of it. What was the point? I'm way too old for her. She, no doubt, had found some young guy to squire her from place to place, who didn't mind she was pregnant, etc. Instead, I just dressed and drove to the cafe where we'd had breakfast. I was reading my book and waiting for my bacon and eggs when I heard a voice.

"So where have you been, Ben?" She giggled over the phonetic joke. I looked up into those unbelievable eyes. She was radiant. Her belly seemed to have bulged to twice its size in the few days since we'd seen each other.

I stood up and helped her into a chair at the table. I beckoned the waitress and listened to her incredible breakfast order -- French toast, bacon, sausage, toast and tea. 'Breakfast for two,' as they say, but I was willing to pay for it if she could eat it and sit with me.

"I'm sorry I haven't been to the club," she said. I told her I didn't go every day either, but told her I'd missed her.

"It's just that I didn't want you to think anything...wrong," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm really not interested in anything...long term, or least of all permanent."

"Melody, I have enjoyed the time we've had together and I confess I've looked forward to seeing you again. But I don't want to marry you, and I never want to make you think I want anything different. We met, we made friends, and...if anything else develops we'll deal with it. But you are your own person and I don't want you to think I have anything to do with that."

I reached across the table and took her hand. "I just like you...a lot. And I've missed you the last few days."

She looked at me and I saw something in her eyes change. She gripped my hand and she teared up. I resisted the impulse to rush around the table and gather her into my arms. I just used my other hand to grab a clutch of paper napkins and waited until she was finished. She had a tough road ahead and I wasn't about to become a cushion for her to rely on. At least not long term, as she herself had said.

She was more composed by the time our breakfast arrived. We ate. She told me more about herself and I gave up a few more details about my life to her. When we finished, she said, "Ben, would you come and look at my kitchen sink? It seems to be draining too slow."

I told her I could do that, maybe see what the problem was, but that my back was probably too bad to crawl under it to fix it. "Call somebody -- look on 'craig's list'," I said. She seemed a bit disappointed, but brightened soon enough. Nothing more was said about it. I felt like I'd let her down, but it was simply the truth.

We met a few more times after that at the club. Her belly swelled between each time and she began bringing a bottle of olive oil, asking me to rub it on her belly and thighs. I was happy to oblige. We drew some stares from the few other members we encountered those early mornings, but neither of us cared. They could think I was her father, older husband, uncle, or whatever. As far as I was concerned, we were friends -- even though my mind held other thoughts. I don't know what she thought, except she sent out some other signals from time to time.

I was sitting at home one night when the phone rang. "Mister Sands?" Ben Sands?" the voice sounded stressed.

"Yes," I answered.

"Please, sir, she's asking for you. Can you come to St. Rose hospital as quickly as possible?"

"What? Who's asking?"

"Miss Melody," came the voice. I knew then. The nurse told me where to find her in the hospital.

"I'll be right there," I said, not waiting for a reply. I threw on a pair of shorts, a shirt and sandals. I dashed out the door and into the truck. Melody was close to delivery by the time I arrived in the labor room.

I held her hand and dredged up the Lamaze exercises from when my kids were born. I did the breathing thing and let her scream and squeeze my hand in those strong hands of hers. Watching the delivery filled me with nostalgia and the same outright wonder that watching my daughters enter the world had done.

My hand ached. The tiny hands flexed and the little brown eyes blinked -- as clear as any eyes have ever been -- as the little girl peered up at me. I was surprised at her skin tone. It just hadn't occurred to me that the father might be other than Caucasian, but the girl was either half black or darkly Hispanic. Melody was half conscious even though she'd refused drugs. She was merely exhausted.

My hand hurt from her gripping it during delivery. I laughed to myself thinking that I'd gotten a look at her holy-of-holies, not through the wonder of sex, but through the wonder of birth.

Melody's eyes opened. "Ben..." she said, and she was out again. I wondered about the father of the beautiful little girl and cast the thought out of my head. He probably didn't even know he was a father, so he didn't deserve the grace of seeing his daughter. Fuck him.

After she came around again and I congratulated her on the beauty of the human being she had produced, I left and went back the next morning just in time for feeding. Melody was foxy about flashing her bare tit at me. My mouth watered at the sight of her huge and leaking nipple. "Want a drink?" she asked with a grin.

"If I did it would starve your girl. I think she'd have a struggle getting it back from me if I tried. But maybe later..." I laughed.

"Later for sure!" she said, with a forcefulness I hadn't expected. She grabbed my hand and we watched as little Tina suckled, drawing more of the first and the dearest nourishment she'd ever get. Melody pulled me down and gave me the sweetest kiss I'd ever had. "And there's so much more for you, Ben." Her eyes filled with tears and I tried to hold back my own emotions. It may have just been post-partum stuff on her part, but I hoped not. We'd have to wait and see.

Melody had gotten a better job than the cocktail waitress job she'd had before her pregnancy forced a medical leave. But at least the casino had an insurance program that paid for most of her delivery. After she recovered from the birth Melody proved to be as good as her promise. We spent a lot of time in my bed making love and watching the naked little girl nursing at her mom's swollen nipples. I did get that offered taste and for some reason it made me hard as I sucked. The fluid had a pasty but sweet taste that pleased me.

About the time Tina was four months old, Melody brought her over and we played with her a while before putting the baby down in my spare bedroom, safely tucked between two rolled up beach towels. When those little eyes drifted closed, Mel took my hand and led me to my bed.

Our lovemaking was intense that day, more driven than it had ever been. We fucked twice in quick succession, Mel going down on me as soon as I'd come in her the first time. In almost no time she sucked me hard again and mounted me, leaning to me to suck her (sadly dry of milk by then) tits and bite her nipples as she urged me on. She came with a gasp and a scream, releasing copious juices all over us both.

Falling to her side, Melody was almost immediately asleep. I pushed the hair from her eyes and studied her face. She had gone from being attractive to me to being really beautiful in my eyes. Not for the first time I considered making things closer between us. If she moved in she could save the expense of supporting her little studio apartment. I could save some money if she contributed to the joint coffers. And she'd always be there. I decided to bring the subject up when she woke up.

I slipped from the bed and went to check on the baby. Tina was sleeping still. Her tiny lips pursed and relaxed, as if she was sucking a nipple -- real or rubber.

It was late afternoon so I got a beer and doused the 'dry's' our exertion had caused in my throat. I watched TV and dozed a while before the sound of the shower awoke me. I again checked on Tina before going to the bathroom and stepping into the spray behind Melody. We didn't speak. She leaned against me and I gently lathered her breasts and belly. When my hands slid down between her thighs she obligingly opened them so I could wash away all our fluids. My cock swelled, but this wasn't sexual, so I ignored it.

When we were clean and dry we went to the kitchen table. I got another beer for myself and a glass of juice for Melody -- she'd sworn off drinking, but she did bring over a joint whenever she came to my house. Melody wasn't nursing any more and it was nice to feel stoned again. Though I cautioned her about the chance she was taking, still using it in spite of the risk to her and her daughter, she maintained she wasn't taking any chances. Weirdly, I had to agree when she told me she got her stash from her neighbor -- a pastor at one of the local churches.

We lit up and sat smoking for a few minutes. I had already noticed that she was quieter than usual. That and the intensity of our sex told me something was up. I knew her well enough to know that she would tell me whenever she wanted me to know what it was.

Finally we let the joint go out when it was about two thirds done. She took a gulp of juice and started. "Ben, this is really hard for me to tell you," she said. I just waited, but my heart had dropped deep in my chest. This was not going to be something I liked.

"I got a call last week. It was one of the guys I fucked that night last year -- the black one. My girlfriend told him Tina looked a lot like him." Besides, she said, he was the only black guy she'd ever screwed. Tina had to be his daughter. "We met and had coffee. He is really a nice guy and he told me he had no idea I'd gotten pregnant. He swore that if he'd known he would have been there for me...for us...all along."