Beres Behesh (The Baby Maker)

Wrapped in the old man's arms and covered by his large aubergine colored robe, he walked me to the large chair and helped me sit. Exhausted, I closed my eyes and thought I'd doze for a bit before leaving for home. As I drifted off, I again wondered who the man had been. I couldn't shake the feeling that it had been Frank standing in the doorway watching the old man have sex with me.

*****

Perhaps a week later, I went to the shop to be with Baba. Baba, who was behind the counter, looked up and smiled when he saw me. I was surprised because Baba was not the most demonstrative person and actually didn't smile or laugh out loud very often.

Motioning me to come around to the other side of the counter, Baba pulled me to the floor and onto my back. Removing my panties, he straddled me, freed himself, and began to enter me. Not surprisingly, I was already wet for him and opened my legs wider, inviting him, welcoming him. Baba positioned himself comfortably on top of me and began slow, leisurely stroking . . . he had never taken me in this position before. In and out, in and out, hard, deep thrusts that eventually left me begging him to make me cum.

"Not yet, sweet one . . . not yet."

Baba pulled out and immediately moved between my legs with his mouth, finally giving me the release that I had begged for. As I lay under him, my orgasm had barely subsided when he withdrew his mouth. Getting to his knees, he lifted my legs so that my calves rested on his shoulders.

"Baba . . . Baba," I whispered as he plunged inside me, burying himself balls deep in my grasping, eager pussy. Baba fucked me hard and deep and then slow and lovingly for a long time before he finally came with a hoarse, guttural exclamation of sensual completeness and satisfaction.

We lay there for what seemed like a long time, his head resting on my breasts before Baba kissed me on the mouth. He had never kissed me like this. I parted my lips and enjoyed the feel of his tongue, exploring the warm contours of my mouth. I felt myself becoming aroused again and excited at the feel of his cock once again becoming hard inside me. The old man felt it too, and breaking our kiss, withdrew his cock from the velvety sheath he knew so well.

"There's no need for us to meet again," he said.

His statement left me surprised and saddened.

"But Baba, why? Have I upset you? Have I said something to offend you?" I asked him.

Baba caressed my cheek with long, thin craggy fingers, and replied, "My sweet one, there is no need. You are already carrying my child."

I lay looking up at him, and I began to cry before I was even aware that I was going to cry.

"How do you know? What makes you think I'm pregnant, Baba?"

The old man took a deep breath and explained that he had impregnated me weeks earlier. He said he knew the moment it had happened.

"Sweet One, he began, I could tell, at the moment of conception, the look on your face changed, and your eyes grew large and bright. Most telling was how your pussy tightened around my cock as if to hold it inside you forever. The way you began to milk my cock when I pumped my load of semen into your hot womb. That's how I knew, Sweet One."

I knew he was telling me the truth. "Oh my God, Baba . . . thank you . . . thank you."

The old man rolled off me and adjusted his clothes. "Goodbye, my sweet one," he softly said as he turned and went into the back room.

*****

I gave birth to Michael Franklin Parsons almost eight months later, which means the old man had most likely impregnated me soon after we had sex the first time.

I never found out if it had been Frank who had come into the shop and seen me and the old man fucking. I never asked, and he never said. Just as Peggy's fortune-teller had foreseen, Frank and I did go through a difficult period after discovering I was pregnant, but also, as the fortune-teller had said, we worked through it. Frank has always treated and considered Michael to be his son. They have a very close, loving father/son relationship, and as strange as it sounds, people are always commenting that Mikey is the spitting image of Frank.

*****

Mikey is approaching his second birthday, and Frank and I have begun discussing having another baby.

Last night for the first time since I began to feel the desire for a second child . . . I dreamed of Baba, the old man.