Every Friday night, aperitif at Michel and Madeleine’s. Their apartment door creaks open in the hallway. Dim light spills from under the living room door. We sip wine. Talk turns intimate. Madeleine’s eyes lock on mine. ‘Michel can’t give me kids,’ she whispers. Low sperm count. Tried everything. No anonymous donor. Then it hits: me, father of five. ‘You’ll do it?’ Her voice husky. Michel nods, awkward. My cock twitches. She’s stacked—big firm tits, perfect ass curve screaming to be fucked. I’ve jerked to her for years. Wife won’t know. ‘Perfect timing,’ Madeleine breathes. We slip into the hallway. Parquet groans underfoot. Her hand brushes mine. Door to bedroom clicks shut. Heart hammers. Neighbors’ lights flicker through thin blinds.
Inside, clothes rip off. Missionary first. Her pussy’s soaked, tight. I slide in raw. She gasps, bites lip. Bed creaks softly. Thrusts build—wet slaps muffled by pillows. ‘Shh,’ she hisses. Michel’s in the dining room, feet away. Wall thin as paper. Her walls clench. I pump deep, flood her with cum. She cums hard, thighs quake. Doggy next. Ass up, I rail her. Parquet cracks faintly. Light seeps under door—shadows shift? Someone walking hall? Fear spikes thrill. Cum again, thick ropes inside. Cowgirl last. She rides slow, grinding. Tits bounce silent. Orgasms rip her. We collapse, her legs up, cum plugged in.
The Contact
Back to dining room. Door whispers open. Michel waits, tense. ‘Good load?’ he asks. She grins. ‘He’ll knock me up.’ Two weeks later, period. Fuck. Next fertile window: full afternoon. Hallway again, rushed steps. Bedroom door seals us. Four rounds. Every position. She’s dripping my first load when I plunge back. ‘Better than him,’ she moans low. Longer, wilder. No blowjobs, no ass—vaginal only. ‘For baby,’ she pants. But she cums like a slut each time. Legs elevated post-fuck, pussy leaking nothing. Michel praises me later. No jealousy.
The Indiscretion
Still no pregnancy. Plan: week of breeding. Three days before, three after. Heaven. Kama Sutra twists—legs over shoulders, her folded double. Pussy devours me. ‘Never this with him,’ she confesses. Mixes my cum with his nightly fucks. ‘Helps conception.’ Moans stifled, bedframe taps wall rhythmic. Parquet squeaks betray us? Neighbor’s TV hums next door. Risk electric.
Disaster nearly: she chats my wife. ‘Lucky with five kids. More coming?’ Wife: ‘Jacques vasectomized.’ Slap stings my cheek next meet. Then laughter. ‘Dirty pig.’ Straight to bed. Finally—blowjob tease, her mouth hot. Ass? No. But raw possession. She births a year later—my buddy’s seed. Michel thinks mine. We fuck regular now. Hallway glances spark it. Door shuts. Thrusts hushed. Cum floods. Secret pulses.