Page 11 of Knock Me Up

“Like what?”

“Maybe we’re completely incompatible in the bedroom.”

I giggle. “I don’t think we’re going to be that different.”

“I don’t know. What if I open that door over there and introduce you to all of my toys? Various phallic objects with spikes all over them, tables with straps hanging off them, and enough restraints to hold down an army?”

My eyebrow rises. “If you did have that, I think I’d at least entertain trying some of it. I’m pretty open-minded.”

“Well, too bad that behind that wall is just my bedroom. My boring old bedroom with just a bed. A TV. Some dressers and closets.”

“And absolutely no handcuffs, huh?”

“If you want me to start keeping a pair of handcuffs, I totally will.”

We break out into laughter and he pulls me close, holding me tight.

“I think we need to slow it down, lover boy.”

“After rushing into getting married?”

“No, no, I mean regarding how extreme we get in the exploration of our sexuality. Handcuffs are an eventual thing, not something you break out on what’s practically our first date.”

He smirks. “This is kind of our first date, isn’t it? You got any objections to doing certain things on the first date?”

“Yep. Getting married on the first date? Absolutely fine. But sex? No. Gotta wait until at least the fifth date for that.”

More cackling. We look into one another’s eyes. It’s pretty clear I’m just joking as he leans in for another kiss. It’s tender, but grows more passionate as our tongues meet. The way you kiss your lover in private is way different than how you do it in front of your family.

His hands slide down my body, squeezing my asscheeks.

“You know what I want, Luke?” I say, my tone now more serious.

“What do you want?”

“I want to go through with what we both said we desired. I want to get started on that family. And I want it badly. If you want to know my equivalent of handcuffs, as far as fetishes go? It’s that.”

He purrs. “I wouldn’t call that much of a fetish. It’s just a basic biological instinct.”

“It feels like a fetish when so many people do so much to avoid it, and not wanting kids is becoming more and more common.”

“You want something real, Piper. Something that’ll stick with you for a lifetime. Not a fling for some pleasure.”

“I want it bad, Luke. Real bad. I dream about it. A real man coming in, taking me. Fucking me bare, and filling me to the fucking brim. That’s the thing that makes me come when I touch myself, Luke.”

“Oh ho,” he nods along, liking what he’s hearing.

“I imagine myself taking all of it, again and again, until I’m swelling up, well on the road to motherhood. There’s nothing more womanly than becoming a mother. To have a man’s seed inside you, having life grow within you. It’s a bit dirty, it’s a bit cute, and it’s a desire that’s been with me for so long, Luke.”

It’s a bit of a relief to finally confess a long-standing fantasy of mine. I know it’s weird to a lot of people. And it feels positively vanilla in today’s world of people fucking in fursuits and on medieval torture devices.

But it’s what I want.

It’s what I’ve always wanted.

And Luke may just be the man to make those dreams come true.

He simply chuckles. “That all sounds hot as hell to me and I want to be a part of it. I want to fill you to the brim. I want to watch you swell with my child, I want to be there for you when you’re horny as hell from all the hormones, ready to fuck you until the orgasms overpower any discomfort from all those changes. And I’d love to do it again and again, as many times as you let me.”

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