Heather pants as John pounds his dick into her pussy. He groans, "You feel so good, babe." They both woke up this morning and started making love. They have been doing it every morning this week before work. Heather isn't sure why, but they have always been morning lovers. John wakes up hard often enough, it just made sense to do it then. They have been married for 10 years and she's proud of the fact they haven't lost their sex life as so many of her female friends had described happening to them.
John looks down at her, his face strained, his eyes loving her. "I could make love to you all morning. I'm the luckiest man alive." He pushes into her again, finding the magic spot he knows so well and let's his dick rub against it. Before long, Heather is cumming noisily, gyrating under his thrusting body. "Fuck," he murmurs, feeling her cunt spasm around him. He's not going to last much longer. While her eyes are closed, he steals a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed. He's got five minutes to wrap this up, so he gives in to the urgency of his dick and thrusts harder. Three minutes later, he's spraying his wife's exposed, unprotected cunt with his semen. He pushes a few more times into her, filling her body with his seed.
Collapsing on top of her lush body, he lets himself rest inside her another minute, keeping his cum locked inside her. Heather and John have been trying to have a baby for nearly a year. He's not sure what they are doing wrong, but it's not for lack of trying. No one in his family had this problem. He came from a family of eight kids.
He kisses his wife. He still can't believe how beautiful she is. She's always been the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. They dated for 5 years before they got married, after meeting in college. Fifteen years together and he's still infatuated with her and loves her body, her face, everything. Heather is 5'4" tall with dark, long brown hair. He loves her long hair and has campaigned for years to keep her from cutting it. She has brilliant green eyes that fascinate him, nicely rounded breasts that are just right for his hands and she keeps her pussy neat, with a cute little landing strip after he asked her to trim it up years ago.
John is 5'11" tall, with dark hair and brown eyes. He has a smattering of freckles over his nose and a mole on his shoulder. He got the dark coloring from his Italian father, but the freckles from his Irish American mother. Other than his brother Ted, most of the rest of his siblings have strawberry blond hair they inherited from their mother. Only his freckles prove that his mother lurks in his gene pool at all.
His parents, being diehard Democrats, had named most of their kids after various Kennedy's. He wasn't sure what they were thinking, but there was a Ted, a John, a Robert, a Joseph, a Rosemary, a Kathleen, etc. Fortunately, not too many people had picked up on it. He refused to name any child of his after one of the Kennedy's. It was too dark of a legacy to live up to.
Heather's family was completely different. She had been an only child. Holiday dinners at her family's home were a quiet affair. They had money, old money. Gifts were tasteful, expensive and exquisitely wrapped. His own family had a grab bag of gag gifts with a spending limit. No such animal existed in her world. Yet she fit seamlessly into his life. His entire family adored her and had from the moment he had first brought her home.
A couple of weeks went by, then Heather called him. She had gotten her period. He could tell she was struggling not to cry. She had been tested and she was fertile. He came from a family of so many kids with no history of problems, the doctors were stumped. After hanging up with Heather, he fished the business card of the fertility specialist they had been seeing and called for a private appointment.
Several embarrassing tests later, including jacking off in the clinic bathroom while someone took a shit in the next stall, John had his answer. His sperm count was non-existent. The fertility specialist was kind, but he would never get his wife pregnant. He sat there, stunned. He asked the doctor to repeat everything twice. Then he quietly thanked him and went out to his car. He turned on the radio station to some classic rock and cried as Robert Plant sang about a "Stairway to Heaven." How had this happened? He came from an enormous clan. Italian and Irish. Huge Catholic families as far as the eye could see. Tears poured down his face as he cried for the children he would never father. He would never throw a ball around with his son. He would never walk a daughter down the aisle on her wedding day.
Most importantly, he would never give Heather the large family she had always dreamed of after being raised as an only child.
His mind went through the options that had just been outlined by the specialist. They could use a sperm donor. They could adopt. John had asked about in vitro fertilization, but he didn't even have enough sperm for that to be an option. His nuts might as well be chopped off for all the good they did him. John had never felt less of a man. As he sobbed, his mind whirled with panic. Losing Heather simply wasn't an option. He would do anything for that woman. Anything, there was so sacrifice he wouldn't make.
He stilled. No sacrifice. He turned on the ignition to his car, put it in drive and peeled out of the driveway of the clinic.
Heather finished dinner, tasting the curry she had been working on. She had been experimenting with different spices, trying to figure out how it always tasted so amazing at the local restaurant that she and John loved. She was close, she knew it. Maybe more coconut milk? She added as splash and tasted it again. She was even closer.
Heather had changed out of her scrubs and into shorts and a tank. Her feet were bare. She was raised in wealth, where people dressed up for dinner, so it was a fiendish pleasure to just dress down and relax. She loved her life, the simplicity of John's family and their way of doing things. Heather was a nurse practitioner for a local hospital. She loved nursing, she made good money and had gotten a PhD, allowing her to treat patients and prescribe medications. Heather had specialized in psychiatric nursing and prided herself on her ability to look beyond a set of symptoms and help people rather than just throwing a pill at them. She believed in psychiatric medications, but she was wholistic in her approach. She was very much in demand at the hospital, seeing as many patients as most psychiatrists, if not more.
She heard the garage door open and her husband walked in. He was still in his suit and tie, strange for this time of night. "Hey John, where have you been?"
He smiled and gave her a quick kiss. "I stopped by to visit my brother on the way home. He called me with some sort of tax problem." John was an accountant. She got asked the medical questions, he sorted the family's finances.
She tasted her curry again. "Which one of the Kennedy's needed help this time?" There was a pause and she looked over her shoulder. John was looking at her strangely. She stuck out her tongue at him. "Is it a secret?"
John shook his head and laughed. "Sorry, I'm kind of tired. No, Joe was considering refiling, but I think I've talked him out of it. He's fairly solid on his position, there's no reason at giving Uncle Sam another bite at the apple."
Heather paused, then wrapped her arms around her handsome husband. She stood on her tiptoes, kissing his nose. She loved his freckles, they never ceased to amuse her, even after 15 years together. "Go on up and take a shower. You've got time." She looked over her shoulder at him as he started up the stairs. "And by time, I mean 15 minutes. Not an hour?"
Exactly 14 minutes later, John returned to the kitchen. "Wow, that was some kind of record. Is something wrong with the shower?"
John blinked at her. "No, why? You said 15 minutes?"
Heather looked at him in amazement. "Okay, babe, whatever you say." She laughed. Her husband's love of his after-work shower was a long-time joke between them, so he must really be hungry. She served up the rice and curry, along with a bottle of wine. John poured them each a glass and they ate companionably, Heather talking about her patients. When dinner was over, John filled the dishwasher while she put the food away and cleaned up the table and stove.
