Impregnation Anonymous

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

*this story is not about outright sex. It is true and it is recent. If you’re looking for a sex story, please go elsewhere to save yourself the aggravation. Thank you, and I hope one day I find Wade once more*

We met on one of those websites that sets you up with a stranger. We shared one particular interest, impregnation. I was there, logged onto this popular site, because I was unabashedly horny and in search of some quick stimulation. Already I’d gone through stranger after stranger — some too old some too young, some too quick and some too awkward. Then came him.

He started our chat first, stating that he was not looking for sex but instead conversation. As on edge as I was, I was not beyond normal chatting, and something about this message felt normal. I gave him my age, told him I was female — all the normal stuff to start an anonymous chat. He told me he was 34, and to my surprise he was married with children. He then asked if I would be able to discuss impregnation aside of sex, and lucky for him I can.

After being with my partner for some six years, and knowing we’d wed eventually, we agreed to try for a baby. The sex was wonderful, going between sweet and loving or rough and passionate. Yet, with all the creampies, I never came up pregnant. We argued often, blaming one another and throwing harsh insults. We crossed paths with a nurse at a fertility clinic and she advised we come by and get counseling. So he and I went, putting on our best for the doctor and divulging the secrets of our sex life. Of course we seemed healthy, we were holding back the biggest part of our relationship in that we have both become rather verbally abusive.

Yet in our mind which I visualize as a ven diagram, on separate sides but coming together in the center, we just wanted a baby. This had to be a test, a test of our love and strength together. So we proceeded with testing sperm and egg counts; and guess who lost. Yup, my egg count was so low, she compared it to a woman entering menopause. I was only twenty one, Ankara escort how was my egg count at less than one thousand? The results cemented that it was indeed my fault I wasn’t getting pregnant, and further testing showed it was my hormones to blame.

Through injections and regualr testing, there was amped up insults thrown at me. I no longer had the courrage to spit vile tongues at my partner, not while causing so much trouble.

The treatments went on, but nothing changed except for what did. I gained weight in my thighs and hips. My libido was thrown off and I became quite self conscious. That was enough for my partner, he could see past the challenge of my fertility and it must have looked better somewhere else because that spring he left me. While he could have left in secret or even civilly, he screamed and threw things. So angry that years and years of his early teen and adult life and been spent — no, wasted — with someone who couldn’t do the simplest most normal of tasks as become pregnant.

Suddenly for the first time in so long, I was alone. It felt like a messy divorce to be apart from someone who’s very personality and presence built the framework for who I was as a person — as a woman. But, one thing did not change. The one thing he couldn’t pack up and take was my desire to be a mother. Maybe it’s the hormones, but being alone only made the need stronger. So I continued going to the fertility clinic, even still to this very day. But, most men my age aren’t very excited when you tell them you’re trying to have a baby while single, essentially asking for their donation to your pot.

There have been a few random hookups here and there, some false pregnancies and some lost. But still I wait for success. This long-winded story was explaned to my anonymous pen pal, though not in so many words.

He apologized for my suffering, acknowledging his heartbreak for me. He also thanked me for sharing what, to him, was such an intimate part of me. Now it was his turn, his Ankara escort bayan message surprised me.

He told me that he and his wife had a lovely family, three kids I believe. But, unbeknownst to his wife, he longged for more children. Unfortunately, that’s no longer possible for them. It’s not often you hear of men suffering this feeling, baby fever. But, according to his messages, he feels it so strongly. We both related to feeling jealousy toward anyone with newborns in their arms.

Our conversation continued with humor and honesty. One point he was sure to make, he was faithful. Even through a declining sex life and a need that could not be satiated, he loved his wife and would not step out even virtually. This made my heart jump, somehow making me feel more for him but maybe that was the goal. We pushed forward with long messages back to back. He mentioned needing to jack off multiple times a day, quickly apologizing for being so crude. I laughed and felt my own blush forming, imagining him being flustered over a keyboard.

I told my new friend that it was no problem, that I understood the deep aching need that just isn’t fufilled. Then, we disconnected. My smile fell. I’d gone too far, he was disgusted with me. He’d set boundaries and I’d crossed them. So, I hit search to try and find someone new for a quickie. Again, impregnation was the match.

“Lilly…?” They asked.

“Omg, yes!” I knew it was him. He’d fat-fingered the new chat button, but we were not lost. We found each other again. It felt… like it meant something. We both resent our last messages, his read, “I have a personal question, don’t answer if you’re uncomfortable.” The next read, “Are you turned on right now?” My heart thumped heavy. How did he know?

I answered with a simple yes. He told me that he knew it, that he felt the same way. Again he apologized, reminding me that he was indeed in love with his wife with no intention of cheating. But he couldn’t deny that we did have a connection. Escort Ankara There was a shift in the conversation. For every kind message, there was one with sexual undertones. Soon we were just politely telling each other how badly we wanted to make love.

I was now apologizing for being rude and disrespecting his wife. And I meant it. He told me not to apologize, ever. He even encouraged me to be more blunt, to really say what I meant rather than use innuendo. This got me. He wanted to hear me say how badly I wanted him, how I neede him inside of me. When I did tell him what I wanted, he told me that he felt it too.

Then, it happened. He told me that he would have to log off soon, he was too turned on. He described thrusting his hips at my messages about what his cum would feel like in me. I rushed to type my next message unsure if I was racing his cock for who could shoot first. I asked for a sliver of what, if unmarried, we would do. Would we lay in bed slowly undressing, exploring our bodies until we have sex in missionary? Or would I straddle him and hump away until we both reached orgasm?

It was a long shot that did not pay off. He denied, knowing what it would mean if he indulged me. He would be indulging himself, and in so, he’d be cheating. He told me I was wonderful, so open and honest. As I started a new message, he was gone. My stranger had disconnected. My heart sank. It could have been anyone that night, calling themselves Wade and acting like a faithful husband. Or, as he told me, he really could be Wade — the same in all spaces including that virtual one.

Since that night, I’ve thought about him. Its silly because my generation was taught not to believe the stranger on the screen. But I can’t erase his talented conversation from my mind. At night I try and go onto that popular website and type in our names, and impregnation in hopes that just maybe he’s there and hoping that I’ll be there too. Though I doubt he’s going to show up again, not when he loves his wife so much and is most likely, not who I believe him to be. Wade, 34, married with children but desperate for more: if you some way some how get your eyes on this, please please I would love to talk – just talk. Here’s a long winded story about a silly interweb interaction that had more of an impact than it should have.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32