The Bryants utilized their headlamps to help them cover as many miles as possible for the rest of the day. Five miles in, they located an old campsite and set up for the night; the wet wood made a fire out of the question, but the tiny portable stove had no such restrictions. Two freeze-dried meals later, Nick was climbing into the tiny tent to meet his naked wife.
The inside of the tent absolutely reeked of sex. With no way to shower, Tina had continued to leak sexual fluids all afternoon and evening. She had pouted a bit earlier in the day about how her backup leggings were still quite wet – Nick had at first thought that she meant the garment hadn’t fully dried over the stove until she grabbed his hand and shoved it inside her pants to her still-liquid crotch - then walked away before he could do anything about his stiffening penis.
As Nick crawled up to Tina lying on top of the sleeping bag, her face was urgent. “Take this thing out, now… then I need you inside of me, baby,” she exclaimed. “I need to feel you!”
Nick smirked up at her need as he lowered his face into her sloppy vagina. “Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’m going to fuck you, baby. But first, I think that you need to cum one more time with his semen still inside of you.” He grinned wickedly. “After all, you wanted his baby… let’s give you every chance to have it. Another orgasm to pull more of his sperm into your cervix sounds like just the thing, doesn’t it?”
Her eyes rolled back in her head at her husband’s perverted imagination. “Oh God…” she moaned.
Nick found Tina’s clit to already be swollen and protruding from its hood before his tongue even touched her. As always, he insisted on tasting his wife’s vagina before focusing on her clit, though it was not lost on him that a vast amount of the fluids he was tasting consisted of the old black man’s semen.
It took almost no time to get her to orgasm, and as she clenched and cried out, Nick’s cock ached with the knowledge that he was helping move more of the black man’s sperm into her cervix in search of her egg. Surely it was academic at this point, but what if she somehow wasn’t already pregnant, what if this orgasm was what ensured her fertilization?
This time, Nick heeded his wife’s desperate pleas and hooked a finger beneath the Diva Cup. Once the seal was broken, he was able to grab the stem and pull the device from her vagina, though the slickness covering the thing both inside and out added some challenge. He found that he could not resist driving his tongue inside of his wife once more, despite the undeniable fact that the taste of semen was now much stronger.
Soon, though, it was time to seat his own concrete hard erection inside of Tina with one single push. God, her pussy clung to him, massaging him, trying to extract his own seed. And that warm, special slickness, that feeling that only came from fucking a woman full of another man’s semen… it was enough to take his breath away.
All too soon, his own orgasm was approaching. Tina recognized that and began to torment him. “That’s it, baby,” she encouraged. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for me. Are you going to give it to me? Are you going to cum inside me? Zeke has probably already given me his baby, you know that, but maybe you can have a chance…”
With a grunt, Nick drove his cock as deeply into Tina’s pussy as he could and held it there, though even as he did so, it occurred to him that he would never reach the places inside of his wife that Zeke had. Tina’s eyes went wide as she believed that Nick was, in fact, going to inseminate her, but at the last possible instant, he ripped his dick out and began spraying his load across her stomach while locking eye contact with her. Unspoken communication passed between the two of them; if she was going to be pregnant, the baby was going to be black… the thought echoed through her head and her eyes rolled back as her own orgasm swept across her in utter surprise.
That night, Nick drifted off to sleep with his hand on his wife’s belly, thinking of how it would once again be swelling with another man’s child inside. Once again, Tina was going to deliver a black baby.
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It took two and a half days for the Bryants to reach their car. They might have made better time, but sex in the tent at night didn’t seem to be nearly enough to satisfy them; they had to stop several times to pull hungrily at one another’s bodies. They teased the idea again and again of Nick inseminating Tina, of him trying some desperate attempt to perhaps provide that she might have his baby instead of the old black man’s, but both of them knew that it was dirty talk only; neither of them had any real doubt that Tina wasn’t already carrying another mixed-race bastard inside her womb. Even so, Nick always pulled out to either have his wife eagerly swallow his seed, or instead he would paint her tummy and that little patch of pubic hair with his semen.
They stopped for soft drinks and chips at the first gas station they came upon; it was always amazing how much tastier junk food was after a few days of hard hiking while carrying everything on your back. Running water was also an incredible luxury after a few days in the backcountry; a visit to a proper toilet and the ability to actually wash one’s hands were always at the top of the list of things to do as soon as possible after leaving the wilderness.
While Tina finished up inside of the gas station, Nick took the opportunity to transfer their bagged trash to the station’s garbage can. Both of the Bryants were firm believers in “leave no trace”, so not only did they carry their empty freeze-dried meal wrappers, but their sanitary wipes also had to be packed out – and even though the soiled wipes were kept in sealed ziplock bags to contain any smell, it just felt cleaner to dispose of them at the first opportunity.
As Tina climbed into the blue Nissan’s passenger seat, Nick turned from the trash can and walked back to the car with a grin. From her position in the vehicle, Tina couldn’t have seen the laminated piece of lilac-colored cardboard still bearing an unopened blister pack being gathered into the backpacking trash that her husband had dropped into the can – not even had she known to look for it.
“Ready to head home?” Nick asked as he slid behind the wheel. Tina smiled in response, and soon, the Blue Ridge Mountains fell away into the rear view mirror.
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“I’s a comin’!” the deep voice protested against the loud banging against the cabin door. “Gimme a minute!”
Spring had arrived in the mountains, and while there was still a chill in the air at night, the late March days had grown pleasant. A tall, thin black man stood in the sun, enjoying the pleasant breeze and the intensifying greens visible in every direction.
As the door opened, he held up the bundle to his older brother. “Ya gots a little mail,” Jeremiah declared needlessly.
“So I does,” Ezekiel observed as he took the items. Two pieces of junk; it was astounding that companies would waste their money sending advertisements to someone who lived as far away from commercial ventures as Zeke did. Those would go directly into the burn box, as there was no point reading them. The third item, however, caught his eye.
It was a manila envelope with “Ezekiel Brown” and his post office box number written in a neat, flowing script. Zeke turned the envelope over, but there was no return address to be found. A frown creased his flat face as he opened the end.
A smile spread across his features as he pulled out several eight by ten photos of an absolutely beautiful mocha-skinned toddler. Her piercing green eyes seemed to bore into his very soul; no one could doubt that the little girl had her mother’s eyes.
Jeremiah frowned at the photos. “Who on earth be sendin’ ya pictures o’ their little girl?” he asked.
Zeke ignored his brother entirely, instead focusing entirely on each photo, drinking in every aspect, every texture, every angle of the child. Then came the last picture.
At first, the old hermit frowned in confusion. It was not one image, but two pictures pasted together onto one sheet of photo paper. Each image had a black background with a strange grayscale “window” in a cone shape that contained… something. The top image displayed the profile of what looked like a head, a bulbous body with visible ribs, an arm, perhaps legs? The bottom image was even stranger - sort of a thick, rounded V-shape with a pronounced nodule visible between the branches. A set of strange alphanumerical codes occupied parts of both photos, though each did bear what looked like a date stamp from earlier in the month.
“Why in da hell is somebody sendin’ ya photos of a little kid an’ some a’ dose ultrasound pictures?” Jeremiah asked.
“Ultrasound?” Zeke questioned.
Jeremiah laughed at his brother’s confusion. “Yeah! Ya know, like da ones dey use ta look at babies while dey still inside dey momma! Ya don’ know what ultrasound pictures is?”
For a moment, Zeke was truly confused. Then, the significance of the date stamp hit him. As he scanned the two images again, his eye trailed down to the bottom of the page. There, recorded in the white margin in bright purple ink was a simple caption written in a neat, yet decorative hand that only a woman would use - complete with an exclamation point dotted with a hollow circle. The message was short, but when he read it, the old black man’s face stretched into an impossibly wide grin.
“It’s a boy!”
