Home Birth Pleasures

The first contraction hit at three in the morning. I woke to a deep ache in my lower back, a pressure that built and released. The bed was empty—Grandpa had fallen asleep in the armchair, Mr. Dewitt was reading in the study.

I sat up slowly. My belly was a hard dome beneath the sheet, the skin stretched tight. Eight months. Maybe nine. The due date was a guess at best.

The second contraction came five minutes later. Stronger.

I called out. "Grandpa. Mr. Dewitt."

They appeared in the doorway almost simultaneously. Grandpa's eyes found my face, then dropped to my belly, which had gone rigid again. He crossed the room in three strides, took my hand.

"Stacy-girl. Is it time?"

"I think so."

Mr. Dewitt moved to the foot of the bed, his pale blue eyes calm, assessing. "How far apart?"

"Five minutes. Maybe less."

He nodded. "I'll prepare the towels. Hot water. The kit." He disappeared into the bathroom, his movements efficient, unhurried.

Grandpa stroked my hair. "You're going to be fine. We're here."

The contraction peaked. I gripped his hand, felt his fingers squeeze back. When it released, I fell against him, breathing hard.

Mr. Dewitt returned with an armful of towels, a bowl of warm water, a small kit of supplies. He spread the towels over the black sheet, arranged everything on the nightstand.

"Frank," he said, "help her onto her side. That position is better for the pelvis."

Grandpa guided me over. I lay on my left side, my belly resting on the mattress, a pillow between my knees. The next contraction built slowly, a wave rising.

"I need something," I said, my voice thin. "For the pain."

Mr. Dewitt moved to the head of the bed. "I can give you something else." He lowered his head between my thighs. His tongue found my clit, pressing gently. The sensation cut through the contraction, a bright counterpoint to the pressure.

The contraction peaked. I gasped, my hips tilting into his mouth. He licked with steady, unhurried strokes, his tongue circling the sensitive nub. The pain receded, replaced by something else—a warmth, a distraction.

The contraction released. He pulled back, his lips glistening.

Grandpa moved into position. "My turn."

He lowered his head, his beard rough against my inner thigh. His tongue found the same spot, lapping with a different rhythm—slower, more deliberate. The next contraction rose, and he pressed harder, his tongue working through it.

I lost track of time. The contractions came in waves, and between them, the men traded places. Grandpa's tongue, then Mr. Dewitt's. Each session brought me closer to the edge, the pleasure building alongside the pressure.

Hours passed. The morning light crept through the curtains.

"Stacy," Mr. Dewitt said, his voice calm. "You're fully dilated. It's time to push."

I gripped Grandpa's hand. The next contraction rose, overwhelming. I bore down, the pressure immense, the need to push undeniable.

"That's it," Mr. Dewitt said. "Again."

I pushed. The pain was a white-hot ring, a burning stretch. Grandpa's mouth found mine, his kiss distracting me through the peak. When it released, I collapsed against the pillows.

"Progress," Mr. Dewitt said. "I can see the head."

The next contraction came faster. I pushed again, screaming through it. Mr. Dewitt's voice was steady, guiding. "Good. Good. The head is crowning."

Grandpa lowered his head between my thighs. His tongue pressed against my clit, working through the contraction. The dual sensation—the burning stretch of birth, the bright pleasure of his mouth—merged into something overwhelming.

I came. A sharp, sudden orgasm that ripped through my body, my inner walls clenching around the emerging head. The contraction surged, and I pushed with everything I had.

The head emerged. Then the shoulders. Then a rush of heat and wetness.

A cry. Sharp. Insistent.

Mr. Dewitt lifted her, a small, slippery form, her skin pink and glistening. He placed her on my chest, her tiny mouth open, her eyes squeezed shut.

"She's beautiful," Grandpa said, his voice thick.

I looked at her. At the dark hair plastered to her scalp. At the tiny fingers curling against my skin. She was perfect. She was ours.

Mr. Dewitt cut the cord. Grandpa wrapped a towel around her, his hands trembling. I held her against my breast, felt her warmth, her weight.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Both of you."

Mr. Dewitt's hand found my shoulder. "We named her yet?"

I looked at her, at the small face nuzzling against me. "Mary. After my grandmother."

Grandpa's eyes filled with tears.

---

The weeks passed. Mary grew. She slept in a bassinet beside my bed, her tiny face peaceful in the lamplight. Grandpa took care of her during the day, his broad hands cradling her as if she was made of glass. Mr. Dewitt took the night shifts, walking the floor with her when she cried, his voice low and steady.

They kept their word. Rent was never mentioned. Groceries appeared in my kitchen. A crib materialized one afternoon, assembled by quiet hands.

I watched them with her. Grandpa, bouncing her on his knee, his white beard brushing her cheek. Mr. Dewitt, reading aloud from old books, his voice a lullaby. Two old men, transformed by a small girl.

---

Mary turned one in the spring. We had a small party in Mr. Dewitt's apartment—cake, balloons, a single candle. She smashed the frosting with her tiny fists, laughing.

I watched her, my hand resting on my stomach.

The thought had been growing for months. A seed planted during those long nights of nursing, of watching Mary sleep. The house was full of love. Full of them. Full of me.

I wanted more.

That night, after Mary was asleep, I sat between them on the couch. Took their hands.

"I want another one."

Grandpa's eyebrow rose. "Another baby?"

"Yes."

Mr. Dewitt's fingers tightened around mine. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

Grandpa pulled me against his chest. "Then we'll give you one."

Mr. Dewitt stood, offered his hand. "Come. We'll start tonight."

I rose. Looked between them.

"Together?"

"Together," Grandpa said.

They led me to the bedroom. The black sheets were fresh. The ropes were coiled. But they didn't use them tonight.

They laid me on my back. Grandpa positioned himself at my head, his cock pressing against my lips. Mr. Dewitt moved between my thighs, his hard length finding my entrance.

"Ready?" Mr. Dewitt asked.

I opened my mouth. Grandpa slid inside.

Mr. Dewitt pushed into my pussy at the same moment. The fullness was immediate—Grandpa's cock in my mouth, Mr. Dewitt's in my depths. I closed my eyes, tasted salt, felt the stretch.

They moved together. Slow at first, finding a rhythm. Mr. Dewitt thrust into me while Grandpa matched the pace in my mouth. The double sensation built fast, familiar, welcome.

Mr. Dewitt's hand found my clit. "We're going to fill you. Both of us. Until you're ready to carry again."

I came around his cock, my body clenching. He thrust deeper, held, and I felt the first pulse. Hot. Thick. His seed flooded me.

Grandpa withdrew from my mouth. "My turn."

He moved behind me, lifted my hips. His cock pressed against my ass, slick with lubricant. He pushed in, filling that channel, while Mr. Dewitt stayed between my thighs, hard again.

"Together," Grandpa said.

They thrust in unison. Two cocks, two holes, one rhythm. I was pinned between them, filled completely, every space claimed.

The second orgasm rose from somewhere deeper. I came with a sob, my body convulsing around both of them.

Grandpa thrust deeper. Held. I felt his pulse—hot in my ass, wave after wave. Mr. Dewitt followed, his seed adding to the pool in my pussy.

They stayed inside, breathing hard.

One of us.

Two of us.

The room settled into stillness.

They withdrew slowly, their seed leaking from me onto the black sheet. I felt the warmth pooling, mixing.

A hand pressed against my stomach. Grandpa's voice was rough. "We'll do this every night until you're full enough."

Mr. Dewitt's hand joined his. "Every night until you carry again."

I looked between them. At the two old men who had claimed me, filled me, given me Mary.

And I smiled.