Not that I mind still being the town pariah. The right people always migrate to you. The pumpkin patch and corn maze have grown and attracted people from all over the state. Every year I have at least one pumpkin place in the top ten in the national pumpkin growing contest. It takes a while to build up the right soil and get just the right seeds and environment to grow the big 1,000-pounders.
And as for Carl, Sarah’s biological dad, he agreed to visitations regularly as a non-custodial parent. He maintains friendly contact with Sarah, and we’ve explained to Sarah who he is. She seems to understand and doesn’t mind the visits. Carl eventually apologized for the way he treated Jane, and he’s got his own family now. We’ll never be great friends with him, and I think everyone understands that’s for the best.
We barely give him a thought these days because both of us are so busy with our growing family and expanding projects around town. I’d like to think I paid the community back by expanding the pumpkin patch enough to include a huge playground and free produce whenever I have a bumper crop. Not only that, but the gift shop now sells locally made gifts and baked goods, and I’m thinking of starting a farmer’s market next year.
I give most of the credit to our success to my wife and her amazing brain.
She takes her drink out to the back porch and stretches out on the patio sofa. I automatically tug her feet into my lap and rub them while she sips her drink and continues to chatter.
She sighs, finally relaxing into the massage and coming down from her stimulating day at work. When I hear her sigh, I press the pad of my thumb gently into the special spot on her foot that I’ve come to know makes her a little horny.
“Henry,” she chides. I pretend to concentrate on her feet, but I peek over and see her resting her head to the side, against the couch cushion.
I do the same to the other foot, making her switch from contented sighs to a delighted hum.
“Am I pushing your buttons, sweetheart?”
“I’m not a microwave oven, babe. I’m not gonna heat up just because you pressed a button.”
“In that case,” I say, running my hands up her calves, squeezing all her tense muscles, eliciting another sigh.
“God, that feels good. My legs are aching.”
My hands find their way to her thighs and I rumble, “Let me tell you what else is aching.”
“Henry,” she says, her eyes closing. “You’re making me wet.”
“So?”
She laughs. “So? Our kids can see us through the sliding glass door.”
I put my hand to my ear and gesture for her to be quiet. “Do you hear that? The sitters are here.”
Jane lifts her head. “What? No, you didn’t. On a Tuesday?”
It’s true. Jet and Rocket have seen how busy we’ve been lately, so they offered to take the girls to their house for a sleepover with their family. All of our kids love each other, so it’s never a problem. It’s just not very common on a weeknight.
My bestie is such a good friend that she doesn’t even peek outside to check on us before they leave. Through the open windows, we hear them packing up all the kids’ gear, then leaving to pile them into the car.
As soon as they’re gone, I disappear my wife’s goddamn yoga pants and granny panties. No soft and teasing this time; she’s had a long day at work. My need to taste and devour her is urgent. God, she tastes even better when she’s pregnant. I kiss her and stroke her, sucking her clit into my mouth. I massage the tight little button with my tongue while I suck on it, and when her orgasm hits her, she drops the plastic tumbler onto the deck.
I kiss up her thighs while I make quick work of getting rid of my sweatpants.
“Get up here, woman.” I help her ease herself onto me, her back to my front. I love this position when her beautiful belly is round with my babies. I love kissing her tired back, stroking her ass, and reaching around to gently hold on to her full, tender breasts.
The best part of taking my wife this way is hitting her spot at just the right angle. I don’t want to make her do any of the work; I simply let her stay put, loving the feeling of filling her up, of her surrounding me with her wet heat.
“I hope I’m not making you more tired by doing this, sweetheart,” I say, pressing kisses all over her back.
She laughs, squeezing me with her inner muscles, and says, “No. In fact, I have a really good view of the pumpkin patch, and I have some ideas.”
I hate to spank a pregnant woman, but I also enjoy the delicious squeak she makes when I go ahead and do it. So delicious that I’m almost unable to hold it together long enough to bring her all the way.
“I have an idea. How about we don’t talk business while I’m inside you.”
She laughs some more, which combines with her moans as I gently move inside her. “But why, though? We have sex at work—why can’t we talk about work while we’re having sex?”
I smirk and keep up my movements, feeling the tingle at the base of my spine. “One more word and I’m gonna take you down and bend you over Big Daddy the Fifth.”
“You’re my big daddy. Oh my god! Henry! Yes!”
We come together so loudly I’m glad we still live out here in the boonies. We’re not big on
