How I've Spent the Last Six Months Part Nine

As it turned out, Hubby’s fantasies took an immediate place on the backburner for two reasons.

First off, he had to move to Paris. His job started pretty much immediately.

We discussed it over dinner and agreed that I would continue working at my job and he’d work at him just while we got settled and money saved up. This was a pretty big decision – especially since I’d just revealed my infidelity to him. During the week, Hubby would stay in a hotel in Paris (on the company, thank goodness) and then come back to me via Eurostar at the weekends. It was an expensive proposition (even with our two combined salaries) but we figured that a couple of months would be enough to put us firmly in the black and let us decide what happened next.

The question of what happened next was especially valid when it came to problem number two.

For about four days, when Hubby had revealed his new job, we’d been fucking like rabbits. I’d figured it was a safe time of the month and therefore we hadn’t used any contraception. In fact – especially after revealing my dalliance with Darren – Hubby had been so turned on with his wife sharing fantasies that he’d blown his load inside me every opportunity he had. I think he was pretending that it was other men coming deep inside my pulsating pussy when he orgasmed. I’d never seen him so aggressive and domineering – and I’d never been so full of cum in my life.

Anyway. Four days and about fourteen creamy cum injections proved problematic when ‘that time of the month’ arrived. Because it didn’t.

No period.

Now this put a kybosh on all sorts of things, not least of which Hubby’s fantasies. Was I pregnant? It was the worst possible time, with Hubby about to leave the country and my career in the height of it’s upward spiral. Not to mention our marriage certainly hadn’t got back on track and I didn’t want to tell my kid in twelve years time that he or she was the product of an angry/horny daddy and a slutty/shameful mummy having dirty, irresponsible, unprotected sex in a desperate attempt to save their doomed relationship.

When I told Hubby about it, he didn’t exactly jump onto the enthusiasm bandwagon. If there is an entry for ‘Oh, Shit’ in the Encyclopedia, it had a picture of my Hubby’s face next to it. I could tell he was thinking the same things as me. Was this marriage going to work? Did he still love me? Was I just some unfaithful whore? Was this kid even his? I mean, OF COURSE it was but he didn’t know that for sure, did he?

I peed on one of the pregnancy tests and it revealed what we’d both been dreading. I had a bun in the oven.