An erotic fan fiction based upon characters from the film Cabin Fever.
(Medium-long story; 14.3k words total.)

Synopsis:
Paul has spent many infuriating years trapped in the friend zone with his long-time crush, Karen. Then, in the space of a few minutes, his entire world is turned upside down when his friend Marcy steals him away for an unexpected round of hot, casual sex.

Thus begins a turbulent journey of self-discovery for Paul, as he struggles to reconcile his longstanding affection for Karen with his newfound lustful attraction to Marcy. But before he gets the chance to resolve his true feelings, he receives some shocking news: Marcy is pregnant. The situation is further complicated by Marcy's dubious claim that the baby belongs to her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Jeff, whom she had broken up with shortly before sleeping with Paul.

Amid a confusing playfield of relationship politics, carefree sex, broken hearts, deception and responsibility, Paul ultimately comes to discover and embrace his greatest desire of all: to procreate.

---

The scene was already divine. The bright, mid-morning sun shone down upon her, illuminating and glorifying all of her majestic curves.

Then the soft spring breeze tugged at the slim tendrils of hair that had managed to slip free from her hair tie. They shimmered as they danced in the air, as if to torment Paul even further. He marveled at how the sunlight turned them from chestnut brown to gold.

Despite the clear, sunny weather, the air was still quite brisk. Marcy looked right at home in her tight, burgundy sweater and dark blue sweatpants.

Paul's coffee was getting cold as he gazed at her from all the way across the quad. He couldn't have cared less.

Something had made Marcy hesitate; made her stay in place for just a moment, giving him a clear, unobstructed view. Until that moment passed, Paul had no time for anything else.

He couldn't have been more wide awake; but his heartbeat was as calm and measured as a man fast asleep. That was normal. His heart was always peaceful when he caught a glimpse of her these days.

It had been very different in the beginning. In the weeks when Paul first became so wrapped up in her, the mere thought of Marcy used to make his heart race like crazy. Now, he only felt peace.

For Paul, there was no mystery about where all that boisterous spirit had gone. He was looking at it, right now: across the quad, sealed away inside that perfect swell in Marcy's belly.

He had given it to her in a fit of careless ecstasy, a little more than seven months ago. His energy, his strength, his flair - all the qualities that define a 20-year-old male striving to assert himself in the world - had exploded out of him in a desperate bid to reach her splendid womb. Even now, Paul could vividly recall how slow and weak his heartbeat had been immediately after it had happened; how he had realized almost immediately that his fiery male vigor had abandoned him.

Marcy, with all her feminine grace, had nurtured that power and grown it in to a magnificent baby bump.

Looking over at it now, so large and proud on Marcy's frame, he was pleased. His precious life energy was precisely where it was supposed to be. It was a truth he was certain of, on an instinctive level.

Paul wasn't oblivious to the complications of 'getting a girl in trouble'. Those concerns had caused him plenty of sleepless nights over the past few weeks. But all that anxiety went away whenever he saw Marcy; especially recently, with her belly growing ever bigger. Seeing her made all the first-world drama and sexual politics fade away; leaving only the memory of that amazing, primal act through which that bundle of complications was conceived.

Try as he might, Paul couldn't bring himself to regret such a perfect experience. At times, he couldn't understand how or why, but even after seven months and the benefit of hindsight, he was still thoroughly delighted that he and Marcy had sex.

It had forever changed him. It had changed her even more. In his mind, Paul was aware that they were bittersweet changes, at the very best. But in his heart, all he felt was satisfaction.

For a brief instant, he took his eyes off Marcy to take note of the trees lining the quad. High above her was a lush green canopy of spring regrowth. It reminded him of the brown, fallen leaves that had blanketed the ground that evening, many months ago; how they had decorated the sidewalks he had traveled on his way to that fateful encounter.

He smirked as he realized how the rolling of the seasons was not unlike the many timely changes that had occurred between Marcy and himself over that period. Fall had been a season of change for both of them, as the simplicity of their relationship, and the presumptions they both had about their futures gradually wilted away. Winter began with an abrupt and sobering chill, but quickly settled into a period of dormant numbness. Now, with the dawning of spring, came hints of a new beginning and bright, new opportunities. Once again, Paul felt that things were changing; though to what end, he couldn't say.

He mused that Mother Nature probably had a separate schedule for everyone and everything; trees, critters... even a couple of foolish young college kids. In a vaguely reassuring way, it felt as if the numerous changes that had occurred between himself and Marcy over these past months had all been running to some elegant, natural timetable. Yet it was hard to reconcile that idea with the fact that nothing about the past seven months had been planned.

Even the very beginning, the moment that had upended his entire life, had come without any warning. Nobody could've predicted what was about to happen, even a mere fifteen minutes beforehand.

By all accounts, it should've been a relatively uneventful evening. Dan had invited ten friends over to his house for a cordial gathering; ten grounded, sensible people he could count on to not turn the evening into a shambolic, beer-drenched frat party.

Paul had been surprised to discover that Marcy was there, but her boyfriend, Jeff, wasn't. Dan whispered in Paul's ear that Marcy and Jeff had broken up.

Jeff and Marcy were well known for their fierce quarrels. It was a routine spectacle on campus to see them storming off in opposite directions with scowls on their faces. But they would always get back together and make up, usually very loudly.

But apparently, their latest fight had been a real doozy, and it seemed like they had really broken up for good this time.

It hadn't surprised Paul that their volatile relationship had finally fallen apart. But he was amazed by how at ease Marcy appeared to be, so soon after her breakup.

A conversation brewed up in the house's spacious living room. Various people joined in and left as time passed. Eventually, it dwindled down to just Paul and Marcy.

Ever since that night, he was able to picture her with crystal clarity, sitting on that L-shaped sofa, a good, respectable two or three body widths apart from him. He could picture the long, dark brown hair with the slightest hint of frizz, cascading over her shoulders. He could picture the sensuous movement of her full, pink lips as she spoke, and the glimmer where her feminine hazel eyes reflected the ceiling lights. He could picture her simple-yet-stylish black sweater, and the coarse, rich blue denim of her figure-fitting jeans.

But for the life of him, Paul could not recall a single word of the conversation they had shared on that sofa.

He had tried so hard, in the intervening months, to remember what had been said between them; as if remembering the conversation would somehow help him to make sense of everything else that followed. But no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to recall even the general subject of their discussion.

All he could remember was that, at some point, Marcy began flaunting her sexuality. Very gently - perhaps even accidentally, at first; but soon enough, with skillful potency.

He suddenly became very aware of the way her large breasts filled out her sweater. He had known Marcy for years, and she had never been shy about her voluptuous bust. But he had never looked at her body with such fixation before.

He remembered believing that they were simply playing a foolish game with one another, with all their subconscious signals and coy comments; a game more frustrating than fun, as far as he was concerned. Until the corner of Marcy's mouth twitched briefly into an odd smirk. In retrospect, Paul concluded that must've been the moment she'd decided, "What the hell?"

She turned to him with a smile and said, "Hey, why don't you come with me? I wanna show you something!"

He realized right then and there that they hadn't been playing a silly little game at all; they had been negotiating for actual sex! Yet despite this stunning turn of events, Paul agreed without hesitation. In fact, he never gave what he was about to do a second thought.

He got up and followed her, in a nonchalant procession to the second floor.

Back in those days, Paul was still deeply caught up in his longstanding, unrequited crush upon his high school dreamboat, Karen. Normally, he was constantly tormented by the fact that Karen didn't return his feelings for her. But as he made that journey with Marcy, up to an implied round of casual sex, Karen never once entered his mind. It was as if she had never existed.

When they reached the door of the master bedroom, Marcy quickly checked both ends of the hallway to ensure they wouldn't be seen. The entire floor seemed quiet; it felt like they were the only two up there. Nonetheless, Paul's heart was racing with apprehension.

"Okay," Marcy quietly signaled as she opened the door and smoothly slipped inside.

With a deep, nervous sigh, Paul followed. He rushed through the tight gap in the doorway, into the stylish, well-kept modern bedroom on the other side. He immediately spun around to close the door behind him. He tried to do it with perfect silence, as Marcy had managed when she entered the room. But his hand was trembling with nerves and he rattled the door against its frame as he brought it home. The noise was only soft - almost certainly inaudible to the rest of the household, but it still put a lump in Paul's throat.

He sighed again, a little shallower than before, as he stared at the well-finished wood grain of the door four inches from his face. He hesitated a moment before he turned back around, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of what was about to happen next. Of course, he knew there was going to be sex; but with nothing more than that vague assumption to guide him, Paul felt as if he was heading in to a situation he was totally unprepared for.

He turned. But he didn't even get a chance to take stock of his surroundings before Marcy's lips lunged upon his own. Her brazen advance would have banged his head against the door, if not for the hand she had slipped behind it, which cushioned the impact.

The austere silence of the room amplified the soft sounds of their foreplay; the moist smacking sounds of their lips working against one another, and the increasingly heavy breath rushing through their nostrils. Almost immediately, Marcy began dry-humping him through their jeans, with unambiguous, rhythmic thrusts of her hips.

Paul's arms were frozen, well away from Marcy's body, as if he were trying to grapple with some nonexistent sumo wrestler. Eventually, his shock began to subside and instinct began to take over. One hand closed around her upper torso to secure her hot body firmly against his own. The other began to fumble its way around her back, until Paul suddenly realized it was resting upon her ass. For a split second, he was actually embarrassed. But then he realized that they were well past the point where feeling up her ass was acceptable; in fact, it was now practically obligatory.

He sank his fingers hard into the yielding form of her buttock. Holding her like that, literally in the palm of his hand, was a sobering reality check. That was the moment when it truly sank in that he was about to screw this horny and exceptionally sexy coed.

He began to reciprocate Marcy's passion in his kisses, and soon began to overshadow her, as he finally accepted that she was in that room with him for him to enjoy. She was a feast of seductive sensations: soft, yet stimulating kisses; a firm, fit, youthful body; and an immodest warmth radiating from her belly, which seemed to be growing ever hotter. But what he relished most of all was the anticipation of the pleasures yet to come.

His reverie was broken when he felt her coarse woolen sweater rising up between them, in a harsh, wrenching motion. It interrupted their kiss, but only for a split second. The next thing he knew, his jacket was being pulled from around his shoulders.

They continued hastily undressing. Paul caught a brief glimpse of her crimson bra, and noticed how taut its straps appeared under the weight of her sizable bust. By the time their next kiss was finished, the bra was gone.

Amid the hectic juggle between their stripping and foreplay, Paul had only a limited opportunity to pause and admire Marcy's bare breasts. But in that fleeting second, he observed every little detail, burning the image of Marcy topless into his memory like a Polaroid.

Her tits were even more magnificent than he ever could've imagined. With the removal of her clothes, the rest of her frame had become more petite, but her bulging tits appeared as large as ever. Their shape was utter perfection; two voluptuous shields perched majestically upon her ribs, with such youthful lift. Her peach-colored areolae were beautifully small for such large breasts, with subtle nipples that barely seemed to protrude at all. Paul marveled at the way Marcy's boobs jiggled and changed shape in response to her frantic movements, in a shameless demonstration of their suppleness.

The spectacle woke a sleeping dragon in his trousers. Though his cock had begun to size up during their make-out session, the sight of Marcy's incredible tits roused it to its full size in just a few seconds. Paul felt as if his nether regions were about to burst out of his clothing, like The Incredible Hulk.

Paul pounced upon Marcy for another kiss, as she peeled her jeans away from her ankles. He seized the opportunity to lay his hand upon one of her breasts and firmly fondle it. The smoothness of her skin was only surpassed by the heavenly softness of the flesh beneath it.

He melted into their kiss as warm rush of desire suddenly overwhelmed him. He suddenly felt light as a feather, without a care or thought in the world - save one: he wanted this woman.

No. He needed her!

He needed to taste her within his mouth, needed to test her blessed softness with the erogenous tip of his organ. He needed to be inside of her, to be completely surrounded by her hot, tender flesh. He needed to give himself to her, completely; give her absolutely everything he could possibly offer.

It became his sole purpose; the very essence of what defined him. There was nobody else, nothing else that mattered in the world. His entire life revolved around what he was about to do with this woman.

He felt impatient fingers tugging at the beltline of his jeans and efficiently releasing their buttons. Paul assisted her in peeling the trousers from his legs, but before he could finish, she had already carefully released his throbbing cock from his briefs. He felt those same frisky fingers wrapping around his shaft. Marcy gently stroked him back and forth a single time with her expert grasp. She definitely knew how to handle a man.

"Mmm... I guess this means you're ready," she playfully purred. Paul was lost for words.

With her hand wrapped around his penis, she pulled him over to the side of the bed. His briefs were still only halfway down his thighs. She pressed him down to sit on the edge of the bed. Paul hadn't realized that she'd already removed her panties until he found himself with a thick, brown landing strip of pubic hair right in front of his face.

Marcy gave him just enough time to completely remove his briefs and reorient himself to the foot of the bed before she climbed on to his lap.

A twinge of discomfort suddenly fell upon Paul; not strong enough to make him stop, but enough to curb his enthusiasm as he embraced her. He was surprised how swiftly they had gotten to this point. It was abundantly clear that they were about to start fucking very soon. Paul had assumed that a girl as 'socially active' as Marcy would always carry protection with her, "just in case". Yet here he was, cradling her naked body against his own, and still not wearing a condom.

They kissed some more, but their need for air prevented them from keeping their lips locked for long.

Paul buried his face into her left breast and took as much of its supple mass into his mouth as he could fit. He'd ached to know what her breasts tasted like since he first laid eyes on them. They were delicious beyond his wildest dreams. Marcy combed her fingers roughly through his hair as she held him tightly against her chest. She turned her head towards the ceiling and growled at it with lusty, throaty breaths, as Paul suckled hungrily on her nipple.

Then, grasping his head firmly between her hands, she lifted his face and kissed him passionately two more times. Then she pushed him forcefully down on to the mattress, his head bouncing into the pillow, before she shifted her hips and mounted him.

Immediately, that bothersome little doubt in the back of his mind turned to serious concern.

"You don't use condoms?" he gasped in surprise. Even as he said the words, the point seemed moot. His naked penis was already deep inside the slick reaches of her sex. Bodily fluids had already passed between them. The thought stirred an unsettling chill in his gut.

"Don't worry," Marcy panted, already riding him in earnest, "I'm healthy."

Paul was too conflicted to know how to respond. Months later, he would spend a great deal of time reflecting on the war that raged within him at that time, and especially how it was won.

"This is really stupid!"

"But she's cool with it. That makes it okay, right?"

"What about STDs?"

"She said she's healthy. Besides, I'm already inside her - there's no point in worrying about it anymore."

"But if I cum inside her, she might get pregnant."

"She's not worried about getting pregnant, is she? As a matter of fact... She's not worried about anything at all right now, is she? Jesus, look at her! She's way too damn horny to give a shit about anything! She just wants to fuck! And damn, does she need it bad! Holy shit, that's really hot!"

"Hot... yeah, she's hot...But, we really should be using protection."

"But if she had a condom, she would've made me put it on before we got this far, wouldn't she? I don't have a condom! So what am I supposed to do? Make her stop?"

"No, no. I don't want to stop. But..."

"Holy shit, her pussy is amazing! Feel that! It's so smooth and tight! And the way it keeps moving... It's like heaven in there!"

"Yeah, it's wonderful! She's so hot and wet! My dick's in her wet pussy without a condom. Her juice is all over my urethra. What if she isn't healthy?"

"My cockhead is rubbing directly up against the soft insides of her pussy! I am actually feeling the most private bullseye of this 5-star babe with my horny cock! Nothing in-between us; I'm getting the 100% authentic experience here! This is the opportunity of a lifetime! Would I really be happier wondering what she felt like from behind a sheet of rubber?"

"...No."

"It's better without the condom."

"It's better without the condom."

His reluctance had been quashed within a matter of seconds. He emerged from his short-lived internal debate to discover he was grasping Marcy firmly by the waist, guiding and encouraging her spirited thrusting. He wanted her -needed her beyond any possibility of compromise. Every single part of him was determined to continue with what they were doing.

He was still aware that this was unsafe sex, but that no longer deterred him. The risks were all "tomorrow" problems. Tonight, nothing was more important than having the best sex he could possibly have with this gorgeous woman: the pure experience - pussy against cock; Marcy uncensored. The consequences, whatever they would be, were justified, a hundred times over.

As he watched Marcy, Paul could see that she felt exactly the same way. She needed this to happen, exactly the way it was. The flushed, dizzy expression of arousal upon her face, and the ferocious enthusiasm with which she rode his shaft said it all. Marcy had let her inner wild woman roam free for an evening, to live and fuck as a wild woman does.

Paul was convinced that she truly relished the madness of it all; how reckless and naughty it was to go all the way with a random guy, without protection. For Marcy, it was all part of the thrill.

As the inevitable finale neared, Paul realized that he had never wanted anything so badly as he wanted to cum inside Marcy right now. It felt as if it was his sole purpose in life.

Marcy was perfect. Between her sumptuous body, and her lusty body language, everything about her shamelessly advertised that she was a fit woman in her sexual prime. Nature had bred her to receive a man's virile load, just as it had bred Paul to give himself to such a woman.

Intuition assured him that she was the ideal partner, and this was the ideal moment.

The bed began to squeak as Marcy's motions became less regular. Her graceful muscles were beginning to shiver with exhaustion and anticipation. Subtle hints of moaning began to seep in to her ragged breath. Yet even as she neared collapsing, she still managed to hold Paul virtually immobilized beneath her: her hands pinning his upper arms to the mattress with the full weight of her body.

Paul felt a veritable powder keg brewing within his loins. He could already tell that this was going to be the most powerful climax he'd ever had. The only question was how many seconds he could hold out.

A surge of electricity shot up his spine. Then it happened.

He would never be able to recall what it felt like, aside from the knowledge that it was an instant of utter perfection; the most wonderful experience he had ever had, or ever would have.

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the blackness of night in the bedroom window, partially eclipsed by the reflection of the ceiling light. As he acclimatized to the eerie silence, he became aware of the bassline of the music playing on the stereo on the lower floor, and soon after, the irregular, incoherent murmurs and laughter of party guests.

Marcy was lying on top of him, motionless, aside from her heavy breathing. It took Paul a few seconds to realize he was embracing her tightly; holding her close, and in no hurry to let her go. His right arm was wrapped around her back. His left hand was clenched firmly upon her ass cheek, anchoring her hips against his own.

Then he realized he was still inside of her. He was flaccid, completely spent - but his cock was still nestled within her hot, welcoming grotto.

He let his fingers course slowly through the yielding flesh of her buttock. It proved to be yet another striking reminder of what a superb example of womanhood Marcy was. Even from behind, her hips possessed more seductive wonder than any man deserved.

Then he remembered that he had just cum inside her. The broiling fire of his lust was now cupped within those same joyful hips he had just been admiring. It was an immensely satisfying thought.

Paul had given her everything, and done so happily. He himself now felt somewhat like a ghost, or shadow; numb and lost, yet serene and completely fulfilled.

The best of himself was gone. His strength, his will, his passion, heart and intelligence had been released into this ravishing naked woman lying on top of him. He had even surrendered his past and very identity - for it felt as if his entire life had only been lived to lead him to that essential moment.

Marcy was panting heavily and Paul could feel her heart pounding wildly beneath her soft breasts. Curiously, he noticed that his own breath was shallow and his heartbeat was quite relaxed. Even the excitement that had burned in his blood a mere minute ago had been given away to his lover.

And yet, despite his immense loss, he didn't feel poorer for what had just occurred; not by a long shot. He was no longer the man who lived to deliver himself into this beautiful woman; he was now the laureate who  had given himself to her. That legacy, that memory of what he had done would be his enduring reward.

It had nothing to do with bragging rights; Paul had no notions of being indiscreet about having slept with Marcy. It was about his own pride in having shared in something exceptionally wonderful with her.

After some time, Marcy began to stir. Paul felt her weight shifting. He would've loved to have held on to her for another minute, another hour, another lifetime. But eventually he resigned himself to the fact that she wanted to roll off of him and released his grasp upon her. With a hard, nasal sigh, she flopped over on to the empty mattress beside him.

She laid there, upright; her eyes closed as if in some private meditation. Her superb breasts continued to rise and fall, as she fought to catch her breath. Paul admired the way her horizontal posture changed their shape; how it streamlined her normally-voluptuous bust without compromising any of its femininity. The vision of her nipple rising and falling was mesmerizing. Flushed to a rich, dark shade of pink and noticeably constricted to the size of a quarter, it betrayed how Marcy's entire body was still tingling with the thrill of arousal.

"Oh baby!" she cooed breathlessly, " That was just what I needed!"

Paul was still speechless.

It delighted him to see that Marcy had shared in that perfect moment; that she, too, had been powerfully affected by it. In her body language, Paul could read her wild satisfaction with what she had just done. Her desire had been natural and earnest and had burned with far more clarity than her messy personal life. She was meant to ride a thick, hard cock to orgasm tonight; it was her birthright as an athletic heterosexual woman.

The afterglow of that mutual experience connected them in a way that made pillow talk unnecessary. For Paul, it was enough to simply lay there in silence and gaze at the flawless, naked, pink body he had just been joined with, and, in a figurative sense, would be joined with for the rest of his days.

After some time, Marcy propped herself up. The move immediately caused her breasts to fill out to their full, natural shape and bulge conspicuously upon her chest. The distinct fold at their base sat atop two or three similar creases that formed across her lithe belly as she bent upwards. Somehow, her tits seemed even bigger now than they did before.

She turned to face him with sedate, yet warm expression. Paul could feel her gaze tracing over his naked body; his shoulders & biceps, his hairy chest, his gut. They were the stern, focused eyes of a seasoned evaluator conducting a formal exam. She was grading him; deciding how he rated as her latest conquest.

When her gaze reached his flaccid dick, her mouth curled up into a wry smirk. She had clearly enjoyed riding it. For a few seconds, Paul could see that she was trying to gauge whether or not his member had any residual strength to go another round, and if so, how soon it might be ready to perform again.

But the post-coital haze was already waning. Reality and pragmatism began to envelop Marcy once again and snuffed out her playful musings like a strict school teacher silencing the giggles of her students. She huffed softly in disappointment.

"We should probably get back before we're missed," she told him in a dainty whisper.

Paul responded with an indistinct murmur. He'd only half heard her, and what he had heard hadn't registered as a demand for immediate action. The entire situation felt like a vivid dream.

The serene smile upon his face never changed as he watched the sumptuous curves of her body reshape themselves and gently jiggle as she slid over and lifted herself from the mattress. There was poetry in every single motion she made, from the dynamic reactions of her pert breasts, to the graceful pivots of her hips, and the strides of her long, flawless legs. Marcy was a perfect woman and he would remember her perfection forever.

Marcy wasted no time in getting dressed. As she turned her back to him and bent over, Paul got his first proper look at her ass. It was just as gorgeous as every other aspect of her anatomy: petite, toned and deliciously curved. The sight of it brought on a renewed rush of fulfillment. Knowing that he had cum deep inside those wonderful hips was the most satisfying thought he would ever have.

Even after her seductive crack disappeared behind the veil of her swiftly-applied panties, Paul continued to admire her lovely figure.

"C'mon, Paul! Move your ass!" she gently chided him in her underwear, tossing his briefs directly on to his cock.

Paul knew Marcy well enough to know that her next expression of impatience would be much less cordial. As tempted as he was to remain on the bed, savoring his post-coital exhaustion, he decided it would be better if the encounter wasn't ultimately spoiled by an angry outburst. With a grunt of disappointment, he sat up and reluctantly put on his briefs.

They continued getting dressed in silence, even taking special care to step around the floor as gently as possible, so as to not alert any of the other partygoers to their presence in the bedroom. When Marcy was fully dressed, she examined herself carefully in front of the mirror atop the dresser, obsessively preening away any and every flaw that may have even hinted that she had just had sex.

By the time Paul finished tying his shoes, Marcy was already ready to leave. She stood at the door and cautiously opened it ever so slightly - just wide enough to give her line of sight to the end of the hallway. Then she opened it just wide enough to stick her head out and check back in the opposite direction.

Reading the tension in Marcy's body as he stood behind her, Paul was suddenly struck by sobering question: "What  would happen if they were discovered?" Was he prepared to be recognized as one of Marcy's one-time lovers? Was he prepared for that to become part of his identity? How would it affect his relationships with his friends? With Jeff? With Karen? With Marcy?

He was oddly numb to the disturbing implications of those questions; still coasting on the lingering euphoria of his orgasm. Nonetheless, for the first time since entering this bedroom with Marcy, Paul was becoming keenly aware that making love to her tonight was going to have enduring and significant consequences. Things would be different from now on. Things would be more complicated.

"Okay, the coast is clear!" Marcy whispered, before turning to make eye contact with him. "I'll go first. You should wait a minute or so, then come back down. It's better if we go back separately."

She hesitated a moment, running her eye briskly over his upper body in one last-minute appraisal of her newest lover. When she was done, the sparkle in her wide, hazel eyes told Paul that she was pleased with what she saw. In fact, he could see that she was very tempted to drag him back to that bed and enjoy him all over again. But unlike their whirlwind flight up to the bedroom, Marcy's common sense was now decisively stronger than her libido.

She tilted forward a fraction of an inch, unconsciously pursing her lips ever so slightly as she did so. It seemed like she was wrestling with an urge to farewell him with a final kiss, but ultimately decided against it. Perhaps she figured it was smarter to end their hasty tryst with a clean break, rather than dragging things out. Or perhaps she didn't want there to be any confusion about whether romance had played a role in what had just happened.

Without another word, Marcy turned and slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

The lonely silence she had left Paul in quickly became eerie and disorienting. Suddenly, he was all alone with his thoughts.

Paul had had so much to think about now; he didn't know where to begin. He had just fucked Marcy! How on earth had that happened? What did it mean? Was he going to begin pursuing her now and forget about Karen? Was this going to be the first of several no-strings-attached encounters for them, or would it be the only time? Was he going to give away the long-term romance game for a life of wild, casual sex?

Paul was lost. He didn't know what to think, even about who he was now. The only thing he knew for certain was that his life had changed, in a major way.

He lost all track of time after Marcy left the bedroom. He may have lingered there for ten seconds, or ten minutes. By the time he returned to the party downstairs, he was in a daze. Several of his friends noticed how distant he had become. Paul mumbled quick assurances to them without even really paying attention to what he was saying.

Marcy was down there, working the crowd, with fresh color in her cheeks and a perky swagger in her steps. Paul let her be. Neither one of them wanted to tip off any of their friends that they had been intimate. But even without the risk of social complications, Paul probably wouldn't have approached her. He needed time to work through his immense confusion over what they had just done, and his feeling towards her.

As the party wound down and people started getting ready to leave, Marcy bid all her friends farewell with an innocent kiss on the cheek. Paul was no exception.

"Lovely to see you again, as always," she said politely, offering the others no clue as to what they had gotten up to earlier. Yet hidden within Marcy's eyes, Paul could see a feisty glimmer; a covert "thank you" for the moment they had shared together.

Paul wanted to be coy, but words failed him. He could only respond with a dumbfounded look upon his face.

He didn't get to sleep until well after 3 a.m. that night. His mind was racing, trapped in an endless cycle of disconnected erotic flashbacks of Marcy's naked body, and an overwhelming sense of bewilderment. He had hundreds of important questions, and not a single answer.

The following days were eerily benign. Oddly enough, in those first few days he barely thought about sleeping with Marcy. In fact, he didn't really think about anything at all. He simply went about his daily routine on autopilot, feeling as if he wasn't really himself.

But as time went on, Paul found himself increasingly haunted by his moment of passion with Marcy. Often without any provocation or warning, he would suddenly be consumed by some random, fragmented memory of what had happened. Sometimes it was the site of her petite, peach-colored nipples heaving gracefully before him. Sometimes it was the feeling of her ass cheek melting into the grasp of his right hand. Sometimes it was the flawless skin of her hourglass waist.

One day he had been in a convenience store. Another customer took a packet of batteries off a hook and incidentally bumped a packet on the adjacent hook in the process, causing it to swing from side to side, for no longer than a couple seconds. Paul was instantly entranced by a recollection of Marcy's long hair, swinging pendulously to and fro as she rode him.

He stood there, staring senselessly at the battery rack until the short, greying cashier woman came up and prompted him with a concerned, "You need help finding something, hon?"

After three weeks, it felt like he was starting to lose his mind. The memories were so intoxicating, he began to wonder if they were actually real, or if his mind was embellishing them. Were her tits really that large? Was her ass really that supple? Had she really been that energetic?

There were even moments when he began to wonder whether or not he had made the whole thing up; perhaps gotten a particularly vivid wet dream confused with reality.

Encounters with Marcy quickly became overwhelming. His heart raced like crazy whenever she was in sight. During such times, his friends always had to repeat themselves to get any sort of response out of him - sometimes two or three times - and even then, all he was able to offer them were the simplest appropriate responses.

Strangely enough, he never found himself lost in one of his vivid flashbacks when he was actually in Marcy's presence. However, the instant she wandered out of sight, Paul would be struck with a barrage of erotic visions and sounds; as if a porn video were being fast-forwarded in his brain. Before he could begin to savor one particular image, he was already thinking about another.

As bad as the persistent distractions were, the frequent, random erections were even worse. Paul couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd been forced to remain seated somewhere, or nonchalantly stand against a wall waiting for things to calm down in his pants.

It took several weeks, but eventually, Paul admitted to himself that he was wrestling with more than just shock and confusion in the wake of his tryst with Marcy. He was wrestling with desire. Marcy had given him the most powerful moment of pleasure he had ever experienced; and he wanted to fuck her again.

Tragically, it seemed like his maddening desire would never be satisfied. Marcy's spat with Jeff had been short-lived and she had gone back to him shortly after she had slept with Paul.

Nonetheless, Paul began to dwell on the fact that Marcy and Jeff's relationship was turbulent, to put it kindly; and Marcy was a very hot-headed, impulsive woman. If she and Jeff had another bad day, and Paul just happened to be in the right place at the right time... well, who knows what might happen?

That's when he started trying to suck up the nerve to approach and talk to her. If he could build up his friendship stock with her, he figured it would make her much more inclined to think of him as a 'therapeutic companion', whenever she and Jeff weren't getting along.

By that stage, Paul hadn't really spoken to Marcy at all since they'd slept together. The idea of that first conversation had always seemed so daunting to him. What was he supposed to say to this friend who was now suddenly a former sex partner? Even his newfound desire to get closer to her couldn't give him the courage to make that leap. Every time he decided to make a move, he would chicken out before he got close to her.

On one occasion, he actually sucked up the nerve to get within a few feet of her. He caught a whiff of her perfume. It was the exact same scent she had been wearing the night it had happened. It paralyzed him.

More often than not, Paul hated himself for the feelings he was having. Chasing after a friend's girlfriend? Trying to weasel his way into Marcy's good graces? Hoping for her and Jeff to have a fight? All just so that he could get some cheap, meaningless sex? He felt like a slime. But every time he challenged himself to abandon his shallow ambitions and leave Marcy be, he would be confronted with a vivid memory of full breasts heaving in front of his face, or a thick brown bush combing through his own. His need to relive that magnificent evening would reassert itself as strong as ever. In those moments, Paul began to realize that there were few lines of decency he would not be willing to cross for a chance at screwing Marcy again.

By Thanksgiving, Paul no longer felt like himself at all. He often wondered what the hell Marcy had done to him to cause such a radical personality change. Though his desire to sleep with her again never, ever cooled, there were times he cursed her for turning his world upside down.

But fall still had one final card to deal.

Paul noticed that Jeff was extremely bitter one morning, and his mood didn't improve over the following days. It was abundantly clear that there was trouble between him and Marcy.

For a brief moment, Paul felt that his chance may be at hand. The climate was ripe for him and Marcy to get together for another carefree indiscretion.

But then a few days later, he was sharing a meal at the cafeteria with Karen. In the middle of their mostly one-sided conversation, Karen leaned over and with a devilish grin of guilty delight, whispered that she knew a secret:

Marcy was pregnant.

Paul's heart, which had begun racing at the mere mention of Marcy's name, fell deathly still.

Karen chuckled at his catatonic shock.

"What? Don't tell me you're surprised?" she teased him. "I mean, you must've figured it was bound to happen sooner or later. You know what they're like...", she remarked, referring to Jeff and Marcy, who were typically pounding away like rabbits whenever they weren't screaming obscenities at each other.

Paul felt numb as he eventually left the table. Numb, cold and lost.

It had not even occurred to him that he might be the father. At the time, he simply accepted the story at face value: Jeff had gotten Marcy pregnant. As Karen noted, they had sex so often, the alternative barely warranted any consideration.

All of Paul's wild ambitions for another sexual encounter with Marcy abandoned him, like the last dead leaves being stripped from trees by the end-of-fall winds. Having a cheap affair with her behind Jeff's back was one thing; but now that Marcy was a mother, he felt like she was untouchable, morally speaking. Even his obsessive, burning lust for her couldn't drive Paul to risk driving a wedge between two parents-to-be.

But after the initial shock subsided, Paul was surprised to discover that he wasn't really disappointed that he wasn't going to sleep with Marcy ever again. If anything, he found it relaxing to suddenly be free of his obsession. The flashbacks of his sexual encounter with her stopped completely.

It was several days before the thought occurred to him that there was a chance, however slim, that the baby Marcy was carrying might've been his. He immediately brushed it off as a stupid thought. He had only fucked Marcy once and she and Jeff were prolific, to put it mildly. The odds of their little tryst being responsible must've been a thousand to one.

Besides, he didn't even know how far along Marcy was. She may have only been one or two months pregnant, which would rule him out completely.

Nonetheless, the thought began to gnaw at him, and soon became anxiety. In fact, it made him anxious enough to finally overcome his awkwardness and actually talk to Marcy for the first time since they had sex.

He spotted her going in to the campus library one afternoon and decided to 'bump into her' while she was doing some photocopying.

"Hey! Marcy!" he greeted her, trying to sound as if he was surprised to see her.

"Oh! Hey, Paul," Marcy replied. Her expression and tone were gentle, but Paul got the impression that she was a little frustrated that he was bothering her.

"How ya been?" he asked, regardless, hiding his racing nerves behind a broad, friendly smile.

"Good. Good," she nodded.

"Yeah? That's good," Paul reflexively responded.

"I heard a rumor that you were... uh..." he prompted, while making a timid, two-handed gesture towards her belly. By this stage, half the college was aware of Marcy's condition, so Paul knew he could safely broach the subject without betraying Karen's confidence.

Marcy stared at him with a raised eyebrow, giving him the same look of scathing pity that Karen used to give him in junior high, whenever he started acting like an awkward geek around her. Thankfully, it only took her a split second to understand what was going on.

"Oh!" she responded knowingly, "Right!

"Yeah, that's right. *Jeff* and I are going to have a baby." she calmly informed him. Paul received the message loud and clear. Yet Marcy's delivery was so brilliantly subtle, had anybody overheard her, they wouldn't have thought anything of the emphasis she put on Jeff's name.

"Great!" Paul gushed in delighted relief, "That's great! Well, I mean... It's not great, but, well... maybe it is? I don't know...

"How... how do you feel about it?" he asked, eventually reining his confused, awkward babbling into a coherent question.

Marcy sighed.

"Well, it's uh... It takes some time to get used to," she answered frankly. "I guess we're still adjusting to it.

"But we're doing okay," she concluded with a reassuring smile.

"Great," Paul grinned, mirroring her positivity.

"Well, look, if there's ever anything you guys need, just give me a call," he told her, only half-thinking about what he was saying. He was still reeling with his immense relief that he definitely wasn't the father. His brain was on autopilot, seeking the quickest polite route to the end of this awkward conversation.

"We will," Marcy cordially nodded. "Thanks."

They said their goodbyes and Paul cut a brisk pace straight back to his dorm room, where he whispered a prayer of thanks for the good news.

That was the last Paul thought of Marcy for a good long while. With her personal confirmation that the baby she was carrying wasn't his, it seemed like he was finally free to forget about her. Marcy's future was now firmly entwined with Jeff's, and whatever it might be, it did not involve Paul. As delicious as his memories of their careless, passionate evening together may have been, it was an experience he would never get to relive. So why dwell on it?

He went home for Christmas and enjoyed the peace of mind that the season brought. Some strange looks from some of his extended family made him wonder at times if he was laying the good cheer on too thick. But Paul couldn't help but be happy.

Paul returned to college to find that Marcy had developed a distinct baby bump over the holiday break.

The moment he laid eyes upon that subtle curve, he knew.

He knew that it was his.

To hell with Marcy's unflinching assurance, and the hard, indifferent laws of probability! Paul knew! He could feel it in his bones; in the depths of his gut and beyond, that he had gotten Marcy pregnant.

And just like that, Paul once again found himself overcome with a vision of their impulsive tryst.

Except this vision was different from the ones that had tormented him throughout much of the fall. This vision was calm, clear and coherent.

The bustling sights and sounds of the college morning faded into nothingness. The sight of the gentle bulge in Marcy's belly segued seamlessly into a vivid memory of Marcy straddling him. She arched her head back, as his manly vigor thundered up into her tender womb. He could hear her hot, wanton breath panting. He could see her face, flushed with orgasmic exhaustion, as she tipped her head forward once more. Her eyes were closed. Her soft, pink lips were parted as she gasped for breath. He watched as her long, dark brown hair tumbled over her right shoulder and on to her naked breast.

He knew, beyond all doubt, that in that absolutely perfect moment, Marcy's baby had been conceived.

For weeks, his recollection of his casual fuck with Marcy had been fragmented and confused, almost like a corrupted video file. He had begun to doubt everything he thought he remembered about that night.

But seeing Marcy's pregnancy with his own eyes had finally made it all real for Paul. He really had cum inside her! The proof was right in front of him! Now, there were no more gaps in the memory; no more confusion. Every facet of detail; every sight, sound, smell and sensation was present and authentic.

In his stupor, his books slipped out of his hand and clattered to the pavement.

His body was hot with excitement. Yet unlike his previous flashbacks, this time he didn't get an involuntary erection. In fact, he didn't really feel horny at all; he felt blessed. He felt exactly the same as he had in those minutes immediately after he and Marcy had finished having sex. It was that same sense of profound contentment; that same innate pride in having done what he, as a man, was born to do.

By the time Paul finally snapped out of his musings, Marcy was long gone. He wasn't too disappointed. He would be seeing her again.

He gathered up his books and leisurely strolled back to his dormitory. He had a class that morning, but he decided to skip it. Instead, he was going to climb back into bed and jerk off.

He pleasured himself patiently and enthusiastically, as he relived that steamy evening with Marcy. He saw her large breasts heaving majestically. He saw her long, beautiful hair swaying to and fro as she bucked with such determination. He felt the hot embrace of her sweet pussy massaging his erogenous shaft.

Of course, when he eventually came into his clenched fist, it was a poor substitute for the real thing. Nonetheless, it was by far the most satisfying climax he'd had since being with Marcy.

It would not be the last time he pleasured himself to that memory, either.

The heavy responsibility of having accidentally fathered a child had not escaped him, though. Once he had cleaned up the mess he'd made in bed, Paul practically had a panic attack while he began to consider the long term implications of Marcy's pregnancy.

He didn't know what to think.

As much as the thought of being a dad and having to care for a baby terrified him, he found the idea of shirking his responsibility to Marcy and his child even less palatable.

But on the other hand, Marcy had given him a very clear signal that she didn't want him to get involved. She seemed thoroughly committed to the lie that Jeff was the baby's father. Hell, maybe she wasn't even willing to admit to herself that she had gotten pregnant from a careless, one-time affair.

Paul could hardly blame her. Having a baby with her long term boyfriend made for a much less scandalous story than the truth. She was already deeply involved with Jeff; he was there to support her, from the very beginning. Not to mention that Jeff's family was quite well off. The kid was better off being born into a family like that, rather than to a middle-class college kid like himself, who hadn't even broken into the job market yet.

Part of him desperately wanted to talk to Marcy about what was happening. But in the end, he decided it was probably less selfish to simply leave her be. Marcy had apparently settled into a comfortable arrangement. If Paul started interfering with that, he could end up causing her a great deal of trouble and perhaps even set his child up for a difficult start in life. He didn't want to risk causing that sort of pain for either of them.

The weeks rolled on. Every time Paul saw Marcy, her belly was more magnificent than the time before. He began to relish catching sight of her around the campus. He would stare into that fruitful bulge and always be drawn back into the memory of the precise moment it was seeded.

Marcy had grown into a perfect living monument to that wonderful moment. Every curve of her changing body was a testament to that hurricane of hot, natural passion they had both been swept into. Paul could hardly stop thinking about her.

He began amusing himself with an outlandish fantasy of actually marrying Marcy and spending the remainder of his life having a family with her and their lovechild. He often envisioned himself standing at the front of a bright, cream-toned chapel, facing her. Her elegant wedding gown did justice to her breathtaking natural beauty. The sphere of her immense belly was covered with its intricate, lacy embroidery. The neckline was almost exhibitionistic, showing off a canyon of cleavage between her enlarged pregnancy breasts, for all to see.

She wore an expression that was patient and humorless. Much like himself, his shotgun bride was accepting of this unintended new course in her life, though she was hardly thrilled by it. Her firm, yet demure hazel eyes stared right into his soul, shimmering just has they had when she seduced him all those months ago. Their gaze was so characteristic of Marcy: captivating, yet intimidating in its intensity. It gave him a silent ultimatum: "I will hold you to the promise you make here."

On occasion, Paul would envision the scene when they were middle-aged. He pictured them groaning wearily as they roused from their messy double bed for yet another dreary day at the rat races, to feed their expanded brood of two, three, or four children.

Even in his fantasies, Paul knew there would never be any love between he and Marcy; no giddy tingles of romance. Yet he could easily imagine himself watching the mother of his children lumber drowsily around their bed, her hair a mess, her practical nightwear wrinkled, and being pleased with what he saw.

They would be partners, not sweethearts; cooperating amicably in their common responsibility to raise their children healthy. Of course, they would also tend to each other's sexual needs.

Six months earlier, the prospect of such a humdrum, ordinary future would've made Paul's stomach sink.

But after getting Marcy pregnant, he suddenly found the idea more than a little tempting.

Cumming inside her had been the most perfect experience of his entire life. So perfect, in fact, that he could genuinely see himself building the remainder of his life in its echo, without any regrets. That one blissful memory of what it was to be an uninhibited, virile male could sustain him for a lifetime, if he surrounded himself with reminders of it.

But of course, they were just idle fantasies. Marcy was going to raise their baby with Jeff. They'd probably get married soon enough, too.

Paul mightn't have been foolhardy enough to get down on one knee in front of Marcy and pop the question, but as her baby bump grew, he became more and more restless with being completely cut out of the situation. He wasn't certain what he needed, exactly. But he knew he had to talk to Marcy about what was going on.

Perhaps more than anything else, he needed to hear her admit that he was the father.

He pursued her across the small quad one chilly afternoon and cornered her in the entrance hall of the campus' East Building. He had to call out her name three times before she finally stopped.

"Hey, Paul! How's it going?" she greeted with a smile. The mask of good cheer she tried to wear could not conceal the frazzled nerves beneath.

"Hey..." Paul timidly replied. "Marcy, do you, uh..."

He stalled for a moment and quickly came to regret not having a plan for what he wanted to say to her. Marcy feigned patience, but Paul could see the apprehension in her eyes.

"Do you remember that conversation we had in the library, just before Christmas? We were talking about... new arrivals? And, like... how one of the classes might be getting a new teacher?" he phrased his question discreetly. "Do you...

"Do you think it could be mine?" his voice cracked.

Marcy sighed and flexed her lips. She stared at him with serious, yet sympathetic eyes and began to shake her head while she figured out how she would respond. But after a couple seconds, the gesture weakened and soon stopped, as if she was too tired to keep it up any longer.

"Maybe," she acknowledged quietly.

Oddly enough, her response actually calmed Paul's tense heartrate. He was elated to hear the admission from her own mouth.

"Okay," he nodded absently in response.

The multitude of complications that came with Marcy acknowledging he could be father, and the immense impact those complications would likely have upon his future, had not escaped him. He filed them all away in an archive box in the back of his mind. He would definitely freak out about them, and give each and every one of them the consideration they deserved, in the near future.

But for now, Paul didn't feel weighed down by any of those problems. His normally overactive mind went unusually quiet, and a reassuring sense of peace came over him.

This was the closest he had been to Marcy since the holiday break. It felt good to be so close to her; it felt right. He and Marcy meant to be here, right now, standing before one another, having this conversation. From the moment they chose to sleep together all those months ago, they had been destined to end up here.

"So..." Paul continued, after a brief silence. He had no idea what to say to Marcy next, but they obviously had things they needed to talk about.

"Say, are you any good with cars?" Marcy suddenly interrupted.

"Uh... cars?" Paul repeated in confusion. "Uh, a little, I guess. But not..."

"I've been having a lot of trouble starting mine the past couple days," she interrupted again. "Could you maybe come out and take a look at it? It won't take long," she promised. She had composed herself remarkably well. The other people weaving here and there around them would've been utterly oblivious to the tension surging between her and Paul.

"Oh! Um, yeah, sure! I'll do what I can!" Paul agreed, having taken the hint.

He followed Marcy out into the parking lot and over to her well-kept second-hand Chevy. He instinctively headed over towards the passenger door, but Marcy beckoned him over to the driver's side.

"How are you going to check the engine from there?" she cleverly pointed out.

"Right," Paul sheepishly agreed. "Sorry. Force of habit."

They traded places; Marcy got in the passenger seat, Paul, the driver's. They closed their doors almost simultaneously.

Neither of them looked at the other. They both stared straight ahead.

Paul said nothing. He waited for Marcy to take the lead.

"Look, Paul..." she began with a sigh, "Maybe you should just forget about it.

"I want you to forget about it," she insisted.

Paul looked over at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. He didn't know how to feel about her request. He struggled to take it seriously. It wasn't so much that he felt like her suggestion was unreasonable; more like it was impossible.

"Look, we made a stupid mistake. It happens," she shrugged. "But even if that was how I got pregnant - and that's a big 'if'! It probably wasn't!"

Paul could tell that she was lying. Marcy believed that the baby was most likely his. She'd done a perfect job of hiding that suspicion from him when he confronted her in the library, before Christmas. But somehow, this time she just wasn't able to sell the charade, even though she tried very hard to do so.

"...What's done is done," she continued.

"The past is in the past. All that really matters is what's happening now.

"I'm having a baby. With Jeff. And if things were more complicated than that..." she trailed off, just as a quiver of apprehension began to trickle into her voice. "Well, I guess that's the point isn't it? Why make things complicated when they don't need to be?"

Paul didn't respond. He still had no idea what to say, or even what he wanted to say. He completely sympathized with Marcy's dilemma. But he doubted that he was capable of pretending that he wasn't the father of their baby, for the rest of his life, as Marcy was proposing. That child, and the intimate act that had created it, would define him from now on. He struggled to imagine how he could spend his future pretending that none of it had ever happened.

Marcy turned to face him for the first time since they'd gotten in the car. She was probably concerned about the growing silence.

This time, it was Paul who failed to meet her gaze.

"I don't hold you responsible," she told him earnestly, as she placed her hand upon his and gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. "You don't have anything to prove.

"It's sweet that you care, it really is. But everything's fine. It doesn't make any sense to turn your life upside down, just because of one silly little mistake.

"You've got a great life ahead of you," she continued after a brief pause. "I hear you've got some great career opportunities opening up for you. And Karen... I hear there might be some sparks going on there?"

It seemed like a lifetime ago, but Paul had once doted on Karen like crazy. Always wanting to date her, but never being able to pluck up the nerve to ask. However, ever since he had slept with Marcy, Karen had barely been in his thoughts at all.

"It can be that simple," Marcy promised. All he had to do was walk away and pretend like that evening in the bedroom had never happened.

Her hand was so warm on his skin. It made him feel like some euphoric drug was flowing into his bloodstream. This was the first physical contact they'd had since they slept together; since he discovered that she was carrying his child.

It reminded him of how it had felt having her entire naked body draped over his own, after they had climaxed: warm, soft, and sublimely comfortable. Skin against skin; her tender womb filled with the white vigor she had so passionately teased out of him with her beauty and guile.

Paul turned his head and looked at her womb now: big, beautiful, bountiful; still filled with his vigor. How could he ever be expected to pretend that moment had never happened, when life itself had seen fit to build such a magnificent monument to it?

"Do... do you know what it is?" he asked softly.

"Uh, no," Marcy replied. "My OBGYN keeps asking if I want to know. I keep telling her I want to be surprised.

"Why break with tradition, y'know?" Marcy chuckled nervously. Paul offered a weak smile, hoping it would make the situation a little less awkward. It didn't.

After another lengthy, and increasingly uncomfortable pause, Marcy turned to face Paul once again. This time, he couldn't avoid meeting her concerned gaze.

"Let it go, Paul," she told him in a quiet, determined voice. "It's the best thing, for everyone."

Paul didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer.

"Well, look, I gotta get to class," she suddenly snapped back to a very straightforward manner. "I guess you need some time to think. Just... lock up when you're done, okay?"

Paul mumbled something in response.

Marcy left as briskly as her sizable belly allowed. Ordinarily, Paul probably would've felt compelled to race around the car and give her a hand to get out. But he was too lost in thought to be chivalrous. If Marcy minded, she didn't let on.

He stayed in the driver's seat for probably another twenty minutes before he finally decided to move. His legs felt weak and unsteady as he left the car. He was still reeling from Marcy's official confirmation that he was the father - or, at least, what Paul had taken to be an official confirmation.

He drifted around campus for the rest of the day, completing most of his daily obligations in a sort of fugue state. Beyond his superficial movements, he spent the entire remainder of the day thinking about the future and what Marcy had said to him.

It saddened him greatly when he reflected on how Marcy had described their tryst as "a mistake." He wondered if that was how she really felt about it.

Of course, mentally, it made perfect sense to describe the incident that way. But in his heart, Paul himself had never been able to regret what they had done, even in light of its heavy consequences. His thoughts agreed that it had been a mistake; but his overwhelming feelings held the exact opposite position.

Paul wondered if Marcy's true feelings about the act were likewise at war with her measured words. She had tried very hard to conceal her natural intuition that Paul was the baby's father; of that, he was certain. She wanted to con herself into genuinely believing that Jeff was the father, for it would've been so much more convenient for her if he was.

Was she likewise being deceptive when she implied that she regretted the affair?

He recalled, in striking detail, the expression that had been on Marcy's face when he came inside her. It was a look of utterly spent euphoria, earnest and uncomplicated. He realized that in that moment, her experience mirrored his own. She was delighted, in the basest level of her being. Her intrinsic humanity - her intrinsic womanhood, was delighted that she had fucked a virile male, with a nice hard cock, to the heights of orgasm.

Paul knew from his own experience that such a profound sense of accomplishment never truly leaves someone. No matter how much your mind might second guess you, how much your common sense might chastise you, deep down, you're always glad that you did what you did.

He reflected on how she had subconsciously coddled her baby bump while they talked in her car; almost as if she wanted to assure it that she didn't really mean what she was saying about its conception being a mistake. Marcy cherished her fruitful belly and the baby within. So she must've likewise cherished the outburst of passion it represented. Her belly, her baby and the sensual act that had created them were all one and the same; merely different facets of the same beautiful phenomenon.

By the end of the day, Paul had successfully convinced himself that Marcy, too, was ultimately glad that she'd had unprotected sex with him all those months ago. Even with all the hardships of pregnancy, and the inevitable worries that must've weighed on her mind, Marcy instinctively savored her memories of that night they had been together.

Since he would never know for certain what was really going on in Marcy's head, he chose to believe that she felt that way. It pleased him to think so.

However, he still had a big decision to make. Should he turn his back on his lovechild and just walk away, as Marcy had requested? Could he turn his back on them?

Or did his rights and responsibilities as the baby's natural father override all the pain and disruption he would cause if he owned up to his role in the situation?

Paul's urge to ask Marcy to marry him was stronger than ever, now that she had basically admitted the baby was his. His blood yearned for that oft-pondered vision of his future, where he and Marcy made a family together, with their kids. As dreary and uninspired as that mental picture seemed, it nonetheless felt complete.

But, in this one matter, Paul's brain won out over his heart. He realized there was more selfishness than nobility behind his yearning to insert himself into Marcy and their baby's future, and ultimately decided that Marcy's wishes had to be respected.

He continued to watch Marcy from afar over the following weeks, delighting in how her belly kept growing ever grander.

It was about this time when he began to notice that Jeff was becoming increasingly bitter while hanging out with his friends. Humorless jibes about his girlfriend being a ball and chain, or a natural disaster began to punctuate his speech. It got to the point where several old friends couldn't stand to hang around with him anymore, just to watch him mope. Paul himself found Jeff's company torturous during this phase. But he endured it nonetheless, for the scant tidbits of information he was able to pick up about Marcy and her pregnancy.

At the same time, he also began to notice a change in Marcy as well. The ever-charismatic, unflappable bombshell had become unusually reserved. He could see it in her body language; in the evasive way she had begun to move. Her posture sank, not from the weight of a second-trimester baby, but from the weight of worry and sorrow. Paul could tell that the quiet, genial smiles she often flashed to passers-by took a lot of effort.

As Paul anticipated, it was not much longer before she and Jeff broke up.

Jeff celebrated his newfound freedom with a series of increasingly reckless benders.

Paul reluctantly joined him and some other guys for one of them. He somehow managed to keep his composure when a half-drunk Jeff began to ramble about how he didn't even believe that the kid was his; how, "the fucking randy bitch has probably been banging dudes all over town, whenever I turned my back!"

The guys publicly supported him, as bros do. But really, they all thought he was just making up an excuse to justify leaving Marcy in the lurch. Paul suspected that even Jeff didn't really believe his own words.

A veil of sadness descended over Marcy immediately following the breakup. Even from afar, Paul could notice flickers of anxiety in her eyes. Yet at the same time, Paul noticed a surge of energy in her step which he hadn't seen for several weeks. It was as if suddenly finding herself single, with a baby on the way, had allowed her to tap in to some reserve of resilience that she didn't even know she had.

Paul, naturally, felt obliged to do something. He sucked up the courage to approach her, not really knowing what he was going to say. But when she noticed him approaching, the anxiety in her eyes surged exponentially. Paul understood that she still didn't want him involved in her life; at least, not so soon after her breakup. So he nonchalantly crossed the quad to avoid her.

Her girlfriends had been quick to rally around her. Soon enough, Marcy could scarcely be seen apart from her bubbly little clique. To the casual observer, they lifted Marcy's spirits to no end and Paul was delighted to see Marcy smiling and even laughing quite frequently.

However, on the rare occasions when he spotted Marcy out and about by herself, he thought she look tired; like her spirits were broken. Despite the superficial cheerfulness that her friends had brought out in her, Paul surmised that Marcy had been worn down by longstanding worries that her friends simply couldn't help her with.

On some subliminal level, Paul hoped that Marcy might've opened up to the idea of taking on a more appropriate father figure for her child, now that Jeff was out of the picture. But unfortunately, he still got the impression that he wasn't welcome in Marcy's life. Though what it was about Marcy's behavior that gave him that impression, he had no idea.

Then, as the frozen ground began to give way to the stirrings of spring, a peculiar thing happened.

Paul accidentally bumped into Marcy's group while running some errands in the town. He politely greeted them all, including Karen and Marcy. His voice cracked a little as he directed a curt, "Hi!" to the woman carrying his secret lovechild.

Despite her flawless, cheery smile, Marcy's, "Hey, Paul!" likewise faltered, with a subtle whimper of apprehension.

If the other girls noticed the tension between them, they didn't let on.

Paul briefly exchanged pleasantries with the group, before excusing himself. About five seconds after they'd parted ways, Paul overheard the ladies erupting in a fit of giggles. At first, he worried that he might've somehow blown his cover. But then, after reminding himself what girls were like, he realized that they could've been laughing about anything.

The mere fact that he was just an awkward dork was probably hilarious to them. It seemed silly to think they'd drawn some deeper conclusions about his relationship with Marcy.

Aside from relishing the rare pleasure of being so close to Marcy for a brief moment, Paul didn't give the encounter another thought. Until a couple days later, when Marcy greeted him with a gentle, "Hi, Paul," as they passed each other by in one of the college hallways.

Paul was so surprised, he nearly forgot to respond.

They hadn't really been on speaking terms since having sex. Aside from the two serious conversations that Paul had to force himself to initiate, that is. They had passed each other countless times in the intervening months, and largely ignored one another every single time.

That one encounter turned out to be the beginning of a new chapter. They spoke to one another every time they met after that. Never anything more than inconsequential greetings, and the atmosphere was always tense. But they were speaking.

For Paul, that was like manna from heaven; a rich new connection to the gorgeous woman who had completely redefined his life.

Winter was finally over. A new season was beginning, for both of them; bringing with it a new energy and new possibilities.

A pleasant warmth surged within Paul's body as his reflection upon the dramatic past few months brought him right back to his present situation: gazing blissfully across the grassy quad, at the woman carrying his child.

Her belly was enormous now! He stared at it obsessively, and was vividly reminded of the act of perfect insanity through which it had been conceived. He listened to Marcy's wanton, breathy moans. He saw her large, pert breasts heaving to and fro; her petite, peach-pink nipples dancing across their malleable flesh. He felt the flesh of her thighs yielding within his amorous grasp. He felt the indescribable tingling of anticipation across his testicles.

Every facet of the experience was as crystal clear to him today as it had been in the moment it had occurred.

The only part that he was unable to relive - which he had  never been able to relive - was what it felt like to cum inside her. Unlike all the other memories, that miracle had never stayed with him. He had given it completely to Marcy and, as the whole world could plainly see, she had made magnificent use of it. All that chaotic passion, uncompromising maleness and exquisite pleasure was locked securely away in his lover's fruitful womb.

Right where it belonged.

In recent weeks, Paul had been plagued by yet another consuming urge: he wanted to feel that belly. He ached to be able to place his hands on either side of it and feel for himself just how large it was. He wanted to feel the strength and the fullness that had grown from his sperm. And he most certainly didn't want to do it through a sweater, or a blouse. He wanted the authentic experience. He wanted to feel the naked skin of Marcy's belly against his palms.

Of course, when he allowed his mind to wander, he fantasized about going much further than simply fondling her naked belly. Paul yearned to explore Marcy's entire naked body one more time.

He dreamed of latching his fingers on to the yielding buttocks he had squeezed as the last of his semen had bubbled into her sweet womb. He dreamed of plunging his nose into her long, brown hair and intoxicating himself with the aroma of her shampoo. He ached to nuzzle her enlarged, motherly breasts and worship them with a thousand kisses. He wished to slither a hand around her hip, down across her mons, and on to her tender pussy, and then listen to the noises she made as her played with her down there. Finally, he yearned to push his rock-hard member into her hole and make hot, careless love to her until, once more, she relieved him of his manly load.

But above all else, what Paul wanted most of all was to feel that captivating belly for himself.

He thought about the new life growing within that belly right now, and wondered what sort of person had been created from their mad lust. Would their son be an unruly handful? A force of nature running on pure impulse, with no affinity for common sense? Would their daughter be an irresistible seductress? A woman who could overcome even the most straight-laced person's sense of reason and make them servile to her every whim?

It amused him, attempting to personify his and Marcy's sexual encounter. But it scared him a little, too. He was starting to feel like he wasn't ready for the willful offspring he was imagining. Nor, for that matter, was the rest of the world.

He wondered about how much his son or daughter would come to know about their origins. What would Marcy tell them, once they had grown old enough to appreciate that a man must've somehow been involved in their conception? Would she still be invested in the lie that Jeff had gotten her pregnant, and then abandoned her, even all those years after the fact? Or would she tell their child the truth?

If so, Paul wondered, how would their child feel about it; knowing that they were born from a careless one-night-stand?

He envisioned their bright-eyed youngster asking, "Mommy, how did you and daddy fall in love?" Only for the wonder in their eyes to dwindle into jaded disappointment as mommy gently explained that they were born from a tawdry lapse in judgement, not an endearing love story.

It dampened Paul's spirits a little to think that his offspring might not share his sense of joy regarding their origin. He wished he could counsel that future-child; explain to them how their creation was nothing to be disappointed about.

They were created by a moment that was honest, simple, pure and joyful. It was a moment that had no need for prelude, or familiarity, and was not remotely spoiled by the absence of either. It was a moment when two people came together and blessed each other with the most exquisite joy imaginable. The only rationale they needed was that it felt right. Every fiber of their being told them it was right.

It was remarkable. It was wonderful. It was as perfect a moment as there had ever been or ever would be.

It occurred to Paul that, as kids, people so often get caught up in the Disney romantic fairytale, when trying to understand how their parents got together, and by extension, where they themselves come from. Everyone needs to believe that mom and dad were Cinderella and Prince Charming, falling hopelessly in love as they danced across an elegant ballroom floor.

But they get so hung up on the backstory, they almost always overlook the simple truth of their own beginnings: that most of them came into existence due to a single moment of pure, uninhibited ecstasy, shared between two naked people. When you strip away the cumbersome veneer of context, almost everybody comes from something wonderful.

Paul and Marcy may never have been in love. But they truly loved the intimacy they shared. Even if they weren't prepared to admit it, they would  always love that experience. Paul was reminded of that fact every time he laid eyes on Marcy's perfect bulge.

He hoped that, one day, his son or daughter would understand that, and find that knowledge just as pleasing as the "happy family" origin stories that many of his or her friends would have.

Paul was drawn out of his blissful musings as Marcy began moving once more. He watched her, intently as ever, as she followed the path along the edge of the quad, until she eventually passed behind a building and out of view.

Paul sighed. It always disappointed him when she disappeared.

He suddenly remembered his coffee and took a big swig. He didn't care for the lukewarm temperature, but it was still worth finishing.

He turned his gaze back to the bright, green quad as he waited for that last mouthful to settle in his stomach. It was still a picturesque scene, but it seemed so banal without Marcy's captivating figure adorning it.

He reflected upon the expression that was on her face. It seemed like every time he saw her, she seemed more overwhelmed, more anxious and more lonely. Marcy had always presented a tough, indomitable exterior; even more so since she became pregnant. But Paul knew that beneath the surface, she was just as vulnerable as anyone.

She tried hard to hide it, but she was terrified of the unavoidable future that was barreling down upon her like a runaway train. Though she was far too proud to ever publicly admit it, she hated having to face parenthood all alone.

When Jeff had been around to give her a sturdy sense of support, Marcy had always seemed secure with her pregnancy. Tense, perhaps, but secure.

But since he left, Marcy had been visibly riddled with uncertainty and self-doubt. She didn't know if she had what it took to care for a child all by herself. Paul sensed that, deep down, Marcy would've given anything for someone to share that load with her; someone who would not only share the responsibilities with her, but also offer her some much-needed reassurance and stable companionship during those stressful times.

Of course, she didn't have to face parenthood alone.

Paul had decided, many weeks earlier that, if it were ever in the cards, he would gladly commit to a life with Marcy and their lovechild.

But he suspected that he would still face strong resistance to any suggestions of taking an active role in his child's life, much less becoming Marcy's live-in companion or boyfriend. Just because Marcy was feeling desperate inside didn't mean she was going to let down her tough exterior. If anything, it would probably make her even more stubborn.

Things between them had been weird ever since she'd slept with him. Marcy's response had been to maintain a measure of distance between them, especially after it turned out that their one night stand had gotten her pregnant.

Even though their estranged relationship had begun to thaw in recent weeks, they were still a long ways from being close friends.

Paul knew that the idea of him becoming involved in her life would be uncomfortable for her. But he also knew that she was desperate to have someone by her side during the numerous daunting trials ahead. Nobody could commit to that role more dependably than he. Nobody had a greater incentive.

The only question was whether or not he would be able to push past Marcy's resistance, and convince her that they would be much stronger, facing the future together than they would be apart.

Paul suspected that, deep down, Marcy actually wanted to open up a relationship with him. Otherwise, why would she have suddenly started saying, "Hello," to him, around the campus?

Paul guzzled the last of his tepid coffee, chucked the cup in the trash and, with a snort of determination, marched off to start his day.

"That's it! I'm gonna do it!" he decided. "I'm gonna talk to her!"

He and Marcy both had classes in the morning. But that afternoon, he would find her and have a real discussion with her about his role in her and the baby's lives. He would be firm, yet respectful; honest, yet considerate.

No sooner had he made the decision when pins and needles began to dance across his thighs, and a knot of apprehension settled in his gut. The prospect of having a frank discussion with Marcy about their situation had always been scary. Paul tried to soothe his nerves by reminding himself that, no matter how the conversation went, he had nothing to lose.

His dearest wish, of course, was that Marcy would consent to starting a formal relationship with him, and that they could begin their journey as parents as a common-law man and wife. But he wouldn't push her any further than she was willing to go.

He would meet with her. They would talk. Then, he would just see where things went from there.

The End