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" "Uhhggg, make that thirty three. Your wife gave birth tonight." Grabbing my ass and lower back, he rose up and bent me over the arm of the couch. "I already counted that one as thirty one. The one we make tonight will make thirty two... baby girl." I could feel his full weight on me as he drove me into the arm of the couch. He started kissing my neck in an oddly tender way. "Can you feel it swelling?" He whispered in my ear. "I'm getting ready to shoot. That's a baby in ya any way you look at it. I'll pull out if you want. You might not caught yet. It'll cost you, but I'm not unreasonable. Better still just groan and thrust back on little Larry Senior down there and he'll fill ya full of what you need." I could feel him swelling and opening me further than I ever had been before. I thrust back as hard as I could given my limited maneuverability, and I moaned because I was so close. Even if I didn't want a baby, I don't think I could have stopped him or myself, even if I had. I could tell that something was bothering Mummy when Sam and I got home, but I didn’t have a chance to ask her about it, what with Timothy carrying on about Sam and I using our pool instead of hers. Even Sam was getting on my nerves with her constant stories about what possibly could have happened. Her explanations were getting more and more preposterous as time went on. First she insisted that the body was that of a jilted lover who had committed suicide and, rather than risk the scandal and disgrace, his family had secreted his body in the septic tank and told their friends that he had entered a monastery to devote his life to good works in darkest Africa. From there had become a spy drama involving the Secret Service using the septic tank to dispose of a Russian agent caught spying. She kept prattling on non-stop for so long that I couldn’t even get a word in edgeways. She really was becoming tiresome and if it hadn’t been for the fact that her mother had been ‘entertaining’ a.
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