It's not okay.

John’s voice trembled as he spoke, each word laden with both regret and defiance. "Melissa, I would be lucky to be married to a woman like you, but I'm not. I am married to your daughter and going around letting other people think I'm married to anyone else. It's just wrong!" His words, whispered with a raw, quivering sincerity, filled the space between them with a palpable tension.

Melissa’s cheeks flamed with a sincere blush as she whispered softly back, “And she’s very lucky to have you as a husband!” Her delicate tone was buoyed by a graceful smile as she subtly summoned the attention of a nearby waiter. “Excuse me, sir,”she began in a voice that was both gentle and resolute, “we’re close family friends, and my last name is [Melissa’sLastName].”

At her precise articulation, the waiter’s eyes widened in a dawning moment of realization. “Oh dear me, there must have been some miscommunication,” he stuttered, his voice quickly shifting to one of hurried apology. “I’ll have this sorted immediately, and I’ll ensure the hotel staff brings the second bed up to your room.” With brisk efficiency, he scurried away, returning moments later with freshly inked menus—each correct name artfully penned—and even a hidden $300 gift certificate tucked neatly inside, a tangible symbol of his earnest attempt to mend the error.

After dinner, they ambled toward the in-house movie theater, an intimate space bathed in soft, ambient light. Their seats, the best in the entire house, were arranged only inches apart. Yet, with a quiet, deliberate effort, they maintained a respectful distance from one another—a silent pact to avoid any hint of impropriety under the watchful eyes of fellow patrons.

After the film ended, they slowly made their way to their private suite, leaving behind the fading glow of the theater. As they stepped into the room, their eyes were immediately drawn to a second bed that stood meticulously arranged, its linens so exquisitely fine they seemed to murmur promises of comfort and indulgence. Melissa gripped her bag a little tighter, as if anchoring herself to the moment, and softly said, “Will, let me go freshen up; then, are we going to work on my gift?”

It was a sincere question from Melissa because after his display about not wanting other to think they were married; she honestly didn’t know John would sleep with her outside of the house. However,

John thought she was joking because it never crossed his mind that they wouldn't be doing that, as it was one of the reasons that his wife and he came down here, so he laughed. "Of course, I would never go back on my word, you know that!"

Unbeknownst to him, behind Melissa’s question lay a quiet fear, because after his display about not wanting other to think they were married, she was truly worried that he wouldn’t have sex with her outside of her home. As a result, she had braced herself for a night spent in loneliness on that spare, carefully made bed.

When his reassurance reached her ears, her heart fluttered with the promise of intimacy and secret delight. Fueled by a surge of joy mixed with relief, she hurried into the bathroom to transform herself into something she hoped would leave him breathless, quickly exchanging her casual attire for alluring lingerie.

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She came out of the bathroom wearing a black polka dot bra that was so shear that John could clearly make each of her hard nipples, and a grater belt with two straps running down to her stalking’s. But what was most shocking was that instead of wearing it, her right hand twirl a black lace thong in the ear, leaving her meeting trim pussy open for John to stare at. “Yo…your not wanting that?”

Melissa sinuously glides towards him, her hips swaying like a hypnotic pendulum, her voice a sultry purr as she whispers, "Of course not..." She teasingly brushes the hand that holds her lace thong against his cheek, her eyes locked onto his, "How could you possibly breed my tight, eager..." She slowly trails that same hand down her body, lingering over her curves before coming to rest between her thighs, "...pussy with this in the way?" Their breaths intermingle, hearts pounding in sync as couldn’t get into the bed fast enough, as they both wanted nothing more than to pump her pussy full of cum to breed her.

They both only came twice that night before Jennifer fell asleep in John's arms, but that was all they needed to do to be satisfied. After all, this weekend was less about sex and more about just having a good time.

The next day, a luxurious limo took them on a leisurely tour of the nearby natural wonders. The limo's crisp, comfortable interior contrasted sharply with the rugged beauty of the landscape, where every turn revealed stunning scenes of untouched nature. Always careful to ensure John's desires were met, Melissa intentionally disrupted the tidy arrangement of the spare bed and sprayed a heavy perfume in the room to mask the lingering thick scent of their last night sex, ensuring no one would suspect their nighttime activities. Their day in the limo unfolded slowly until they returned to the hotel restaurant for another complimentary meal, eventually retiring to their suite for the night. And yes, they had worked on Melissa's gift along into the night before drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

The following morning, both felt surprisingly guilty for never using the spare bed and making the hotel staff fix it twice, so they had a quickie on it before showering together and checking out of the hotel.

When John and William reconvened at the familiar drop-off point where the weekend’s escapades had begun, a subtle change was almost palpable in the air. This time, Melissa, who was properly dressed in a summer dress which she had put on after their quickly, emerged from John’s car with a serene calm that contrasted sharply with the frantic energy of Jennifer, who, clad only in a towel, had to sprint to his car to avoid passer byes seeing her naked well fucked body. As she ran, which was closer to a stumbled as her week knees could barely hold her up, John’s eyes caught the unsettling sight of a used condoms falling from between his legs, if that an image wasn’t enough to extinguished what little sexual drive he had left the fact that he could still smell at least five different colognes raiding for her or the fact that her well stretched lower holes where actively leaking other men’s cum onto his sheets sure was.

For the next two weeks, the pattern repeated itself without deviation. John would drop off Jennifer and pick up Melissa at the same predetermined stop before embarking on an all-expenses-paid stay at the hotel. The mysterious, shadowy events at William’s house remained outside John’s grasp, and he preferred it that way.

Yet on the third weekend, a strange tension seemed to grip Melissa. During dinner, when John gently probed about her unease, she only replied in a hushed tone, "Don't worry about it."

Later that evening, once they reached their room and Melissa excused herself to freshen up, she disappeared into the bathroom with her bag in hand, like every time before. However this time John’s gaze fell upon the bed, he noticed a neatly placed letter resting there. With a puzzled curiosity, he called out, "Ah Melissa, there is a letter on the bed. Do you know anything about it?"

Her voice, cool and detached, floated from the bathroom: "I don't know, why don't you read it?" With that, John picked up the note, his pulse quickening as he prepared to uncover the secrets inked on its page.

Dear John,

In case you have figured it out, this letter is from me, Melissa, and by now, I have locked myself in the bathroom. This is me saying thank you for being such a wonderful man for my daughter and such a wonderful man to me these past few weeks. But most of all, thank you for the wonderful gift that I am now carrying inside my womb ;).

But now is the hard part for me: you have kept your word, and now I can expect nothing else. I have asked my daughter if it would be okay with her if I continue sleeping with you, and she said it is fine because she wishes and fully intends to keep sleeping with the father of her next child.

However, I would understand if you do see something wrong with us continuing to sleep together. If that is the case, I will think nothing less of you. To be honest, I might even think more of you. But still, if that's the case, tuck yourself in, and I'll be out in ten minutes to sleep in the other bed.

However, if that's not the case, please knock on the bathroom door three times so I know that it's okay for me to spend the night in the arms of the father of my next child.

Sincerely with all my heart. The mother of your unborn child

Melissa

John's hands trembled as he read the letter once, twice, three times, the words blurring before his eyes. His heart thundered in his chest, a wild, erratic rhythm that seemed to echo in the silent room. The weight of what he'd just learned pressed down on him like a physical ****.

A child. His child. Growing inside Melissa.

He stood frozen, the letter clutched in his white-knuckled grip, as a kaleidoscope of emotions churned within him. Pride, fear, confusion, and an unexpected surge of joy all battled for dominance. The realization hit him with startling clarity – he had fulfilled his agreement, by his own internal guide he should quietly take his place on the spare bed and leave the mother of his unborn child alone. But does he?